Charomera

The 29th of Mounichion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

No one spoke much that day or the day after. Arche didn’t realize how accustomed he’d grown to Helwan’s songs and stories until he was forced to walk along in silence. There was little noise aside from Tess’s steady breathing next to him and the footfalls of their group as they trekked through the forest.

Meals were had on the go. None of them wanted to stay near the territory of the haemoak for longer than was absolutely necessary. Cora traveled on the side of the tree’s territory, keeping constant watch for any sign of creeping tendrils or undead thralls. They went a long way without issue, but two hours before sundown Cora let out a warning.

“Movement, headed our way.”

“Cora, retreat,” Tess called out. “Battle formation, everyone.”

Arche felt a different hand grab his arm and pull him away from Tess.

“This way, friend,” Helwan said. “I’ve got you. You stay right by me and they’ll have this mess sorted out nice and quick.”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a horse about to go wild, Helwan.”

“Oh, you think I’m talking like this for you? I’m the one that needs reassuring, here.”

Despite himself and the situation, Arche smiled.

“Fine. You stick right by me. We’ll have the best seats in the house to this whole mess. You can describe it to me.”

“Thralls!” Cora called out from somewhere to Arche’s left. “Closing fast!”

Something crashed through the underbrush ahead of him. Arche held the Tridory carefully, ready to use but trying not to accidentally stick any of his friends. Helwan’s hand on his shoulder helped ground him. He threw his consciousness toward the oncoming thralls, but the feedback was strange. Each had what felt like the same mind, scattered into different pieces. The consciousness was incredibly alien, moreso than anything Arche had ever felt, and it was exhibiting an emotion so strong that he didn’t have to make any intrusive effort to read it.

Absolute, unfettered terror.

“Something’s wrong,” Arche said.

A bowstring twanged and one of the sparks of collective consciousness winked out of existence. The thralls continued barreling toward them, tripping over the uneven ground and crawling in their mad dash.

“What are they?” Arche hissed at Helwan.

“Animals,” the satyr replied, nervous fear permeating his voice. “Dried animal husks animated by magic. Deer and wolves and more.”

Basil let out an angry shout and Arche heard the sound of steel on bone. The young Warrior had engaged with the enemy, but the thralls didn’t react. The others joined the fray. Tess launched her knives with deadly accuracy as Cora shot arrow after arrow into the crowd.

In seconds, the fighting was over and each thrall lay dead on the ground, their desiccated corpses lacking any blood to spill out over the loam.

“Something’s wrong,” Arche repeated. “They weren’t hunting, they were fleeing from something.”

“And you know this how?” Cora demanded.

Arche ignored her and addressed Tess.

“Listen to me. What would make a haemoak afraid?”

Tess took a moment to answer.

“Nothing that I know of. Fire, perhaps? But I don’t smell smoke and the only orange in the sky is from the sunset.”

“A haemoak doesn’t have predators,” Helwan said. “It sits at the apex of its ecosystem. It’s essentially just a big, bloody tree. Maybe, just maybe, it’s produced a bloodseed which it would be protective of, but that would only be valuable to the right people. Certainly not something any of the forest creatures would be interested in, I imagine.”

“I’m going to assume a bloodseed is how new haemoaks are made. Not important right now. Tess, this is your expedition, but if something can hunt a haemoak, it can probably hunt us.”

“You want to look into it? Go into its territory without knowing if it’s still hunting? It could be a trap. Some lure to guide us to the slaughter.”

“Maybe,” Arche hedged. “But I don’t think so.”

“This is ridiculous,” Cora interjected. “We should keep moving before another wave of thralls comes our way. There could be any number of reasons why those acted as they did.”

“Which is all the more reason why we should investigate,” Arche argued.

“Enough.” Tess let out a heavy breath. Even without his sight, he could picture her covering her face with one hand.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Arche could do nothing but stand there, waiting for Tess to make her decision. His Psychic awareness receded, having drained twenty percent of his lowered Mana pool from the effort of sustaining it.

“Cora, can you investigate safely?” Tess asked.

“This is a needless risk.”

“That’s not what I asked. Can you do this?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“Then do so, but above all, be careful. At the first sign of danger, return here. Understood?”

Cora didn’t respond, so Arche could only assume the woman had nodded. There were several moments of silence, only broken by the buzzing of insects and the occasional cawing of a random bird.

“So,” Arche said after a minute. “Has she left yet?”

“Yes,” Helwan replied.

“Huh,” Arche grunted, more to himself. “Elves are freaking quiet. Well, we should probably do something with the bodies, yeah?”

“What did you have in mind?” Helwan said. “Undead corpses are usually reclaimed by nature, in time.”

“Well, has anyone checked them for useful items?”

“What would undead animals have that would be useful?”

“Did you check?”

“I…” Helwan trailed off, clearly incredulous. “No, I didn’t check.”

“All right, if you don’t want to check them, that’s fine. At least lead me over so I can check them.”

Arche felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward one of the bodies. He nearly tripped over it, his foot striking its back, but Helwan’s grip helped keep him sturdy.

“Whoa, thanks.”

With an effort of will, Arche pulled up the creature’s inventory.

Desiccated Fox Thrall’s Inventory

Desiccated Fox Hide

Haemoak Twig

“Is a haemoak twig worth anything?” Arche asked.

Helwan made some thinking noises from next to him.

“Probably,” the satyr ended up saying. “I imagine it’s probably either a reagent or a crafting material, either of which would probably be valuable to the right people, considering how dangerous haemoaks tend to be. I wouldn’t touch it with your hands, though.”

“I’ll just stick it in my inventory for later, then. Maybe we can use it for something or make some money off of it. Lead me to the others.”

A few minutes and three bodies later, Arche collected three more haemoak twigs, bringing the total to four.

“Tell me more about haemoaks,” Arche said. “Why do they feed on blood? What do they look like?”

“I don’t know too much about them,” Helwan said. “Mostly just cautionary tales from my parents. ‘Don’t go running off by yourself in the forest or you’ll be swallowed up by a haemoak,’ they would tell me. I’ve never actually seen one before. I’ve seen pictures in books, though. They’re a real big oak with crimson bark. It’s said that any wound to the tree bleeds scarlet instead of sap, which is half of the way it gets its name. The other half is that it has some rudimentary intelligence and feasts on the blood of animals. It grows thick vines that can slither out along its territory and hunt for it. The older the tree, the longer the vines and the more territory it can claim.”

“Claiming territory seems to be a common theme in Tartarus,” Arche muttered.

“Many believe power and control to be a path to peace. I cannot say that they are wrong, but I have not yet seen them be right. For a creature like a haemoak, however, territory means food sources.”

“You keep saying that haemoaks drain animals of blood. How exactly do they do that?”

“The vines. Each one has serrations on it that cut into prey and funnel that blood back through the vines to the tree itself.”

“That’s better than a massive tree-mouth, which is what I was worried you were about to say.” Arche smiled.

“I can’t imagine that would be terribly efficient, considering all the nutrients that a tree needs to consume.”

“You’re probably right. It’s hard to believe it could get everything it needs just from hunting, though. I wonder if it feeds on other things, too.”

“It’s possible, though I don’t know enough about them to have an answer for that. It’s possible they can still feed like other trees, drinking in the light and the ambient Mana in an area.”

Arche started to nod, then froze.

“Wait, trees drink Mana?”

“Oh yes. And produce it.”

“Fucking huh?”

“Trees are a synthesizers of air and Mana. The Sylv is so dangerous, in part, because the large amount of ambient Mana filtered by the forest allows the creatures and monsters there to grow incredibly strong.”

“Does that mean there’s less ambient Mana in the city?”

“Ah, I see why you would think that, but no. Not in Ship’s Shape, at least. You’ll understand better when you get there, but the city’s design incorporates many techniques for amplifying ambient Mana in the area.”

“Wait a minute, what about our other discussion about ambient Mana? If trees make Mana, doesn’t that prove that Mana is made?”

“Not entirely. Just because trees make Mana doesn’t mean we do. Additionally, just because Mana regeneration can go more quickly in Mana-dense environments doesn’t mean that there is no production by us, as well. What it does mean is that tests to determine what is the case are difficult to pull off without interference. I did tell you there were complications to the experiments.”

“The more you say, the less I understand.”

Helwan chuckled.

“I’ll explain more later. Cora has returned.”

“What, really?” Arche turned around as though he would see her and nearly lost his footing in the process. “Damn, she’s quiet.”

Helwan grabbed his arm and led him toward where the group was huddling up.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Arche was right. Something was very wrong with the haemoak.”

Silence.

“Well? Don’t just keep us in suspense, what is it?” Arche asked, wishing he could roll his eyes.

“It’s dead.”

Arche cocked his head. There weren’t many things he knew of strong enough to kill a carnivorous tree that could attack someone well before they reached it. A kýklōps, probably. Something with strong enough magic could also probably do the job.

“How did it die?” Tess asked.

“Something drained its blood.”