Chapter 1 – A walk through the woods

“Puck! Puck! Where have you vanished to, you stupid boy?!” Mayhew shouted, turning around in the wooded trail, looking for his son. “I swear to god, I turn my back for one moment and he vanishes every bloody time” He mumbles to himself as he searches around the well-lit path.

He was not too worried about his son though. It was a hot bright day, and they were on a partially wooded trail in a safe, well-travelled area. Mostly though because Puck vanished all the time. His mother and father described him as having the attention span of a magpie, attracted to shiny things. As soon as he was able to walk, whether it was a rabbit, flowers, a babbling brook or some quirky bird song, the boy would barrel towards it with interest. At first his parents and sisters used to be beside themselves with worry trying to find the little guy. But always after barely a minute or two of searching they would find the boy cheerfully clapping or giggling at some spectacle in the forest.

Puck’s mother was the local schoolteacher for the village and his father Mayhew the woodsman who supplied felled timber to the village and other outlying regions. The pair were keenly aware of how dangerous some parts of the forest they lived beside could be. Poisonous insects, toxic fruit, even the odd beast that could wander lost into their area. They were terrified that Puck might disturb any of these dangerous oddities while their backs were momentarily turned. However, he never did, every time they lost and found him, he was by something innocuous.

As he grew older no amount of scolding or strong words would dissuade Puck from adventuring around the woods. His mother was terribly busy in the village. As the local schoolteacher her days were filled with teaching and caring for the children of the village. With that responsibility she had little time to keep an eye on Puck. The child minders in the village quickly rescinded early offers of babysitting the boy when they came to understand how impossibly tiring it was. With seemingly endless energy he would run them all ragged.

With how much Puck disliked classroom work and his love of nature, it was taken as a certainty that he would be following in his fathers’ footsteps and become a woodsman. So even though it was considered young, he began his apprenticeship under his father at the age seven.

His father taught him all he knew about the forest and Puck absorbed it like a sponge. Teaching him his letters and numbers had been an uphill battle for his mother, his mind would wander, he would get distracted. It was the opposite learning from his father. Anything related to the outside he would strive to learn and remember with laser focus. Whether it was the different mushrooms in the area, which were edible and poisonous. Tracking animals and recognising them from their droppings. Bird sounds. Using moss or vegetation to discern north. Recognising herbs of worth and how to extract them without damage. If it had some sort of relation to nature and the outside Puck wanted to learn it.

Puck now eight years old had spent the last year shadowing his father on the less dangerous of his trips into the outside. There were still places and trips that his father refused to take him due to the dangers, but these were few and far between. So even though the eight-year-old Puck had run off and was currently out of sight of his father, his father was not worried.

“Damn boy…” he grumbles under his breath before laughing lightly. He was proud of his son, proud of how well he was doing under his tutelage. With his memory and love for the outside Mayhew was sure that his son was going to be a fantastic woodsman. He smiles openly as he thinks about his family. A beautiful wife he loves, two daughters both apprenticed under tradesman in the village, both eagerly pursued by the various young men of the village, and lastly his son. He was proud of all his family, and if today went well he would have the money to give them all the help they needed in setting out on their own. He would have enough to pay generous dowries for both his girls and help buy them any tools they needed, for after they had finished their apprenticeships. He would have enough to help buy a plot of land and help build a house for his son. There should be enough to buy his lovely wife a gift. ‘As long as everything goes well…’ he thinks to himself looking around again. ‘Puck…’ a nervous energy fills Mayhew as he thinks about his son.

He had been very reticent to bring Puck along. After all they were going to be dealing with cultivators. Cultivators from a benign sect, but still cultivators all the same. ‘Puck has grown up and shown more maturity in the last year, but he’s still a child of eight…’ Mayhew worries. In fact, Mayhew had been against bringing Puck along. It was only after Pucks incessant pleading and promises of good behaviour did he start to consider it. Then only when his wife made the argument that Puck himself might have to do that work in the future and that it was important that Mayhew show Puck the ropes, just like Mayhew’s father had taught him. That was the final bit of reasoning that wore him down. If anything happened to Mayhew it was important that Puck have the contacts of this exceptionally lucrative, all be it very rare opportunity to work for the Radiant sect.

“Da! I’m up here!” Mayhew’s thoughts are interrupted by the cheerful shout of his son. Turning towards the noise he sees a large tree in the middle of a grassy clearing which neighbours the path he was travelling on.

On this beautiful early sunny morning, the clearing looks bright with colour. The long grass sways gently in the mild breeze, the sun highlighting the various colourful wildflowers that swim sporadically in the sea of green. Mayhew’s eyes fail to see anything in the clearing and move to the tree in the middle. It looks old but healthy, the brown trunk climbs high with no reachable branches for the good first two or so metres. Then the branches become abundant. Strong boughs reaching out like arteries from the main body. Narrowing down into twigs, carrying the life of the tree shown manifest by the carpet of healthy green leaves that appear in their thousands, obscuring the top half of the tree.

Various movements disturb some of the leaves near the top of the tree. The shaking intensifies as whatever is inside the blanket of leaves pushes out. A child’s hand bursts through the leaves clutching two round golden objects. Quickly follows a mop of brown hair and then grinning face of Puck. “Da! Look what I found! Two golden apples! They must be the last of the season!” he exclaims delighted. The gap in his teeth where the baby ones had been knocked out, prominent in the sun as he beams with prideful joy at his father from up high.

“Get down you stupid boy!” Mayhew yells in mock anger. ‘Golden apples… They must indeed be the last of the season, what a find!”. Mayhew points to the ground next to him “Get down here now, you promised me you wouldn’t run off during this trip, remember? I’ll turn right around and take you home if you don’t!” Mayhew threatens emptily.

“Ehh!” panic appearing on Puck’s face at his dad’s threat. “No! I’m coming da!”

In a flash of movement, the small hand and mop of brown hair has once again vanished under the carpet of leaves. Mayhew tracks the boys’ movements down the tree by following the passage of disturbed branches. In almost no time at all he sees a pair of legs slowly lower themselves down. Puck’s small form becomes completely visible as he shimmies on to the lowest branch. Wearing his best work sandals, brown woollen trousers and red linen shirt. Mayhew can see a red bulge visible around the chest of his son where he had obviously rolled up his fruity gains in his red linen shirt. ‘Kid better not have gotten his clothes dirty…’ he sighs internally as he watches Puck descend to the last few metres. Then like a cat, he grasps the hard bark of the tree and nimbly climbs down its sheer face. Mayhew shakes his head with amusement as he watches the boy descend, ‘hells that boy is part monkey…’.

Puck drops down the last few feet and lands gracefully at the bottom of the tree. One arm goes to steady the bulge in his shirt as he keeps his balance, making sure his cargo remains safe. He then turns and bounds through the long grass to his father, grinning.

As soon as he’s in arms reach Mayhew cups his son over the head in admonishment. “Silly boy! Would did I say before we left?”

“Oww!” Puck keeps one of his hands on the fruit under his shirt and raises his spare to massage the area Mayhew had just clapped. “You said, not to leave your side when we visit the cultivators…” grumbles Puck sheepishly still massaging his head.

“Exactly” nods Mayhew, “and what did you do?”

“Left your side…” Puck kicks the soil at his feet and lowers his eyes.

“Yes!” Mayhew nods more enthusiastically, happy that Puck is acting apologetic and admitting fault. “Then why after my instruction did you disobey me?” Mayhew puts on his most serious fatherly voice.

“Well… You said not to leave your side while we’re with the cultivators.” Mayhew nods. “We’re in the forest dad… I don’t see any cultivators around.” Puck raises his head and looks around their vicinity to confirm his point.

A bolt of annoyance hits Mayhew and a frown flashes on his face. “Damn brat!” He goes to cup Puck around the head again, but Puck, used to this response dodges out of the way. Both just stare at each other unmoving. Puck tries to keep the mirth from his eyes. The mirth that a child gets when they know they’ve outsmarted their parent on a technicality. Mayhew glares at the boy, keeping up his act of indignant father. The only sound audible, the birds and insects around them as the pause hangs between the pair. Puck cracks first, a small smile tugs at his lips, then a giggle escape’s. His father starts chuckling silently. Then both are openly laughing together. “Ha, alright come on then show me what you found.”

Puck reaches into his shirt and pulls out two pristine golden apples. Small things, only about the size of a plum. Sweet and delicious, they were prized by all creatures, human, animal and insects. They were considered a rare delicacy by mortals just because getting to them before the denizens of the forest was quite rare. Pride all over Puck’s face as he presents them to his father to look at.

“Ho ho, they are golden apples indeed.” Mayhew confirms. “How did you spot them son?” he asks curiously.

Puck shrugs “When we were walking down the trail, I spotted something shiny in the tree, so I thought I’d check it out.”

Mayhew shakes his head from side to side and lets out an exasperated chuckle. After years of questioning Puck’s forest investigative skills, he was quite used to this kind of non-answer. Whether it was something Puck smelled that led him, or something he heard, or like today, spotting something shiny out of the corner of his eye. Puck made it sound so easy, but even as a seasoned woodsman Mayhew found himself never having the kind of luck that led to some of Puck’s discoveries.

Quick as a flash Mayhew grabs one of the golden apples from Puck’s open hand. “Hey! I found them, that’s mine!” Puck shouts before reaching up to try and snatch the apple back. Mayhew just laughs and raises his hand high in the air, out of Pucks reach. “Give it back!” he childishly shouts.

Mayhew starts chuckling. “Nope, this is father tax!” Moving his raised hand with the apple in, left and right, dodging Pucks jumping attempts to retrieve it.

Jumping up and down, one hand clasped around his remaining apple, the other trying to reach for the one stolen by his father. “Father tax? What’s that? You can’t just make things up!”

Mayhew openly chuckling at his sons attempts to retrieve it and the annoyance in his voice. “I would never make up such a thing. Father tax is for all the poor father’s who have to deal with terrible hyperactive little devil monkey children.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Puck stops his jumping. “I’m not a monkey!” He says and stamps his foot. Puck hated when his family called him a monkey.

Mayhew takes this stilled opportunity to reach down, and with his free hand grabs his son around the waist and hoist him up. “Ha, so you are a hyperactive little devil child?” Puck sticks his tongue out cheekily in response. Mayhew chuckles, and brings the apple to his mouth and takes a bite. “Hmm delicious. Thank you son.” He sets Puck back down.

Once settled on his own feet Puck brings his own apple and takes a bite. The sweet and sharp contrast of the fruit fills his mouth. A bead of juice runs escapes his mouth and runs down his chin and then onto the ground. “Hmm… Its so good da!” Looking back at his father grinning. He wasn’t upset at all with his father pinching one of his fruit, he was planning to share all along. Puck turns back to the tree and frowns “It’s a pity there was only two, if there was more, we could have brought some back for mum and the girls.”

Mayhew finishes eating the rest of his apple, stalk, pips and all. He wipes the juices from his hand on the tall grass around him. Then bringing his clean hand he ruffles the unruly brown hair of his son affectionately. “Tell you what. If today goes well, we can pop into the market tomorrow and pick them all up a present each, hey?”

Puck like his father swallows the apple down core and all. “Yea!” he starts to raise the arm of his red linen shirt to wipe the juice from his face. His father quickly grabs his arm to stop him with a frown.

“Your mother spent all day yesterday making sure your clothes look nice and clean. Use the grass, you silly boy.” Mayhew releases his arm.

Puck chuckles guiltily and reaches down to grab some grass like his dad did to clean his hands “ha, sorry da.” Puck then straightens up and starts making himself look presentable. Straightening his thin brown belt, making sure the buckle of his forest knife is secure. Dusting off his knees and elbows. After making sure all his clothes are straight and unmarked, he turns back to his father.

Mayhew walks up to his son and picks out a leaf from his hair that he missed. “Okay we’ve still got about an hour before we arrive. I want you to tell me again, what we’re going to do and what you’re defiantly not going to do.”

Puck groans. “But da… We’ve been over this hundred’s times! I know what we’re going do!”

“Good then you won’t have any problem telling me again while we keep on walking.” He smacks his son gently on the back and moves toward the path they had originally been on.

Following his father Puck sighs. “We’re heading to the members of the Radiant sect who are leaving a pocket world. When we get there, we’re gonna help round up all their spiritual sheep and help shepherd them out into the real world. Just like your father, his father, and his father’s fathers’ father…”

“Ha, it was your great grandfather you silly boy.” The pair now back on the travelled path. “So, when we get there what do you do?”

“I stay close to you, I don’t talk to anyone, especially cultivators.”

“Good, but if any of the cultivators address you make sure you reply politely. Make sure you show them respect. Bow your head and keep your eyes lowered, do you understand son?” Mayhew adds seriously

“Yes da. I understand, for the hundredth time!” Puck puts his hands in the air and sighs out in childlike exasperation.

Mayhew turns around stopping Puck, he kneels on one leg and puts both hands on his son’s shoulders. “No, I need you to really understand Puck. I know I’ve told you, but I need you to really listen. There’s a big line between us mortals and cultivators, a line that spans many differences, from length of life, wealth, but most importantly power. To higher level cultivators our lives… mean nothing to them. Us mortals are as numerous and as mundane as the ants on the floor.” He pauses and takes on a softer tone “there exists all manner of cultivators from evil and dark, to the good and benevolent. The Radiant sect which we are on our way to is a benevolent sect, they practise high morals, but that does not mean that you should still not be anything but respectful. Do you understand” Puck nods solemnly. “Good, what I’m going to say now is what my father told me and his him.” Mayhew takes a breath and meets Pucks eyes. “Even a lower member of the sect could wipe out our whole family, our whole village and no-one would care.”

Pucks eyes widen in shock. “Wha-, but! They couldn’t do that. The village guards would stop them!? They’d get in trouble?!”

Shaking his head Mayhew keeps his eyes still locked on Pucks. “No son. That’s the difference, in this world power rules everything. Cultivators can unleash blasts of fire from their hands, they can use their powers to cure the sick, they can level mountains! They can craft amazing artifacts, medical pills and even fly!” Mayhew pats his sons’ shoulder reassuringly “We are only mortals I’m afraid son, as such we have to always keep our eyes down on the earth, while they have theirs in the sky.” Mayhew notices his sons troubled expression. It was hard to hear, he had been the same when his father hold told him. Luckily, he had been a lot older than Puck when he had first heard it. Moreover, he had heard fragments of information from travellers about various cultivators, so his father’s words had less of an impact. Even so, to hear as a mortal what little worth you have in the grand scheme of things was still a heavy depressing blow.

Puck’s eyes form a resolute stare as he meets his father’s gaze, he lifts his hand making a fist. “Da I’ve decided… I’m going to be… A Cultivator!” Puck finishes the last word loudly and silence hangs. His father just stares at him blankly, even the birds and insects seemed shocked as the whole forest becomes momentarily quiet.

Staring at his son words fail Mayhew. An angry vein in his head throbs as he process’s Puck’s words. ‘I’ve just told him that if he gets on the wrong side of a sect member they could kill me, his mum, his sisters and the whole village… and the first thing he says is he wants to BECOME ONE! Stupid boy!’. “Stupid boy!” Mayhew cups his son over head again. “Do you not understand how serious this is! Have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying!” Shaking his son gently by the shoulders to stress how important it is.

“Of course I do da! I must be on my best behaviour and be polite and respectful to everyone I meet! Also, I must make sure my eyes are… on the earth? Not in the sky…?” Puck trails off a little confused at the meaning of the last part.

“Good” Mayhew releases his son and nods, his previous annoyance abating.

“But da! I still want to be a cultivator!” Puck starts again enthusiastically.

“Aww Puck! I thought you were finally taking this seriously!” his annoyance resurging.

“I am da! Could you imagine though! How great it would be to fly! I could get us golden apples all the time! Anytime we wanted, we could go to town and get gifts for mama and the girls! If I could do medicine, I could fix the village chief’s leg! If I could shoot fire, no bandits would ever try and steal our food again…” Puck continues to keep listing off the various things he could do if he was a cultivator. Mayhew couldn’t help but smile as he listened to all the deeds his son would do, all the people in the village he would help and all the ways he would try and improve life for his family and the villagers.

‘He really is a good boy’ Mayhew thinks as he notices that not once has his son listed any purely selfish goals. He stands up and puts his hand softly on the boy’s head and ruffles his hair affectionately causing Puck to stop. “I’m afraid that kind of existence isn’t in the cards for us simple folk Puck.”

The revelry in Puck’s eyes vanish with his father’s words. “What do you mean da? You and mum said we could be anything?”

Mayhew lets out a soft bark of laughter. “Ha, well you can be son, but you’re aiming for the stars there.” He looks down at him patiently. “Your great grandfather, he used to work for the Radiant sect a very long time ago. He worked as one of the mortals in the stable, that’s how we have this opportunity to work for the sect, because of your great grandfather. Now your great grandfather once explained to my grandfather and my father what it takes to make a cultivator. Are you ready to hear as well?” Puck nods enthusiastically. “Well apparently it takes three things to become a cultivator.” Mayhew raises his hand and lifts a finger to illustrate the first. “The first thing a person needs is talent. All the rich nobles and wealthy merchants pick their children’s wives and husband based on the talents of their family, so they’re babies inherent they’re talent, do you understand.” Puck nods his head fascinated. Mayhew tries to keep the language simple to allow Puck to understand. He raises a second finger “The next thing you need is a cultivation art. Now I’m not entirely sure what a cultivation art is, but your great grandfather supposedly said they are really difficult to get hold of if you’re not in a sect.” He raises his third finger. “The last thing you need is money. To make a cultivator you require medical plants and pills…” Mayhew takes a breath. “Even if you time’s the entire wealth of everyone in our village by a hundred, it still wouldn’t be enough.” Puck gasps in shock.

“But but Elder Michael has thirty sheep! Uncle Saxon has the biggest barn in the area! The village chief has a working toilet!” Pucks mind spins trying to equate the most lavish things his village has and multiplying them numerous times.

The forest rings as Mayhew bursts out laughing. “Ha, son… You must understand we’re from a small village, even the nearest town we go to pales in comparison to some of the bigger market towns or a small city. These large places have giant schools, libraries, hospitals, different kinds of restaurants and.” Mayhew chuckles again to himself “working toilets for all to use.”

Puck gasps “Have you even been to a city before da?”

“A couple of times in my younger days. Places like cities are heaven for those who have money. With enough coin you can seek the finest craftsman, eat the tastiest meals and live-in luxury. But for those without money they are a dirty place, where thievery and violence are you only means of survival.” Mayhew looks over at his son kindly. “And, even if you were to get all the rich people in city together. It would only be a tiny amount of them, the super-rich, who could afford to raise up a cultivator. Do you understand how much it costs now son?” Mayhew finishes softly. His son nods sadly. The twinkle in his eye that had been there imagining flight and shooting fire now extinguished. Mayhew sighs, he did not enjoy dousing his son’s excitement, but it was necessary. Necessary for him to understand that the world was not fair, all people were not born equal. People could strive for the best but there was always a ceiling and sometimes you had to find happiness and peace in what was in reach.

“Da?” Puck looks up to his dad, the disappointment slightly faded from his eyes.

“Yes son?”

“Could you take me to the city one day?” Puck asks hopefully

Mayhew inwardly cheers at his son’s quick mental recovery “of course son! If today goes well, we might even have enough coin to go on a little trip to the city with mum and the girls? What do you say?” Clapping his son on the back.

The excitement again shines in the eight-year-old eyes. “Really!?”

Mayhew claps his hand to his chest confidently. “Of course! In fact, I remember the first time I was there with this girl I was se-.” Mayhew quickly coughs, catching himself just in time. “I mean this friend of mine took me to a bakery where they had all these different kinds of colourful cakes!” Mayhew gets enjoyment seeing his sons’ eyes gleam brighter, and relief that his promiscuous slip went un-noticed. “Strawberry, raspberry, blackberry and even chocolate! Would something like that be of interest to you?” Puck nods excitedly. “Ha, good. Well just make sure you work hard today then, then you and I can treat the family!” ‘This is it son… Our lives will never be wealth, longevity and power. That doesn’t mean you can’t strive to enjoy all that’s within your ability too. Even if it’s just a visit to a city for a colourful cake or a working toilet.’ He muses inwardly in a bittersweet melancholic fashion.

Puck mimics his father’s earlier action and claps his hand over his chest. “I promise da! I’ll work super hard, and I’ll listen to everything you say! I’ll make enough money to buy a cake for the whole village!”

Mayhew nods at his son proudly. “Good boy! You’re really growing up.”

Puck instantly straightens up at his dad’s praise. “Of course dad! I’m going to be nine soon! I’m pretty much an adult already!”

Again, the sound of loud laugher permeates through the forest as Mayhew listens to his son. “Ha, you certainly are son! In fact, I think it’s time we started thinking properly about finding you a woman to marry.”

Pucks face pales at his father’s word. “What?! No! All the girls are so annoying. They never want to go play in the woods and they’re scared of getting dirty!”

“Oh really? You said you we’re almost grown up. If you think you’re almost grown up then its time to find you a wife.” He says keeping a straight face. He raises his hand to his face and start stroking his chin in contemplation. “In fact, the miller’s daughter Abbie is about your age…yes. Yes!” He nods his head and brings his hand down in a fist into his open palm in conclusion. “It’s decided, when we return, I will approach the miller Dan about asking for his daughters’ hand in marriage for you!”

Pucks pale face has morphed into open mouthed shocked horror. “No da! No! Not Abbie! She’s the worst! All the boys call her the ginger monster! She once chased Steve into the woods with a stick because he threw a snowball at her last Christmas!”

He nods his head approvingly. “That’s what you need son! Always best to have a confident strong-willed woman at your side! Also, if anything is to go by Abbie’s mother your gonna have a buxom red headed beauty on your hands in a few years.”

“No da! Please! Actually I don’t think I’m near an adult yet! In fact, I’m still miles away!” Puck spreads his hands apart in demonstration.

Mayhew laughs and claps his hand on the back of his son shoulders. “Ha, I’m just joking boy. There’s no need to rush to grow up.”

Puck lets out of a sigh of relief, then he remembers something his dad said and gasps. “You think Abbie mum is a beauty! I’m telling mum when we get home!” pointing at his dad accusingly.

His face drops at Pucks words. “No I didn’t!”

Puck laughs seeing his dad caught out. “Ha, yea you did. You called her a buxom red headed beauty.” Puck looks at his father confused. “Da, what does buxom mean?”

Mayhew’s face goes red. “Damn brat don’t you say a word! Your mum is the only woman for me.” He goes to grab Puck, but Puck dodges out of the way and takes off running down the path giggling. “Come back here you damn brat!” Chasing after him. “When I get my hands on you.” The only reply, the laughter of his son as they run down the path to the pocket world.