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VOICES FILLED MY EARS, the same ones I’d heard the night before. The chorus hums with the gentle beating of drums and the whistling of pan flutes. I opened my eyes, finding myself face down on the earth. Tiny sprouts circled my hands, with the remnant of dancing fireflies at my fingertips. I rolled onto my back, wincing as I moved, my whole body ached. I looked up, a canopy of trees towered over me with little sunlight poking through the cracks. A familiar scent in the air caught my attention, the sweetness of fresh blooms yet it was tainted with sea salt.
If I’m not home, where am I?
When we’d entered the other two trial gates, we were taking to the homelands of both Mitztail and Tarasque. Yet this was not the scent of my homeland. The protection charms that guarded my tribe and warred even me away had to be preventing my return. Unless, each of these trials were just replicas of our homelands, not the real thing.
But why would Ser Raexius make the effort to do such a thing?
Who knew of the grand sorcerer’s true reasonings, from what we’d witnessed, nothing made sense. The only thing similar to the two trials, where they represented a different member of the Ashen Order, and I’d bet any coin this trial would be no different.
‘So you finally decided to wake up, did you, child?’ the voice that plagued my dreams returned, mocking me. ‘You’re now in my domain, let’s see if you can find me. If you do, perhaps I shall reward you.’
I grit my teeth, there was no way I was going to back down again. I’d spent too many nights lying paralysed in fear of its memory. I got onto my hooves, dusty down the dirt from my clothes. The vine that snared me must have dragged me quite a distance, I saw no sign of the arched gateway, or any of my comrades.
Hope they made it through okay. May Melora watch over them in my absence.
There was very little of anything in the clearing I stood, just trees, earth and foliage as far as my eyes could reach. I walked over the closest tree, the one that had mushrooms gathered around the trunk. I picked up a single shroom, turning it over in my hand. I tested its scent, nothing appeared off, it was only when I took a bite from the cap I realised this realm was entirely different from my own. Its texture was more grainy than those I was accustomed to. I pocketed the mushroom inside my satchel, I wasn’t going to let good resources go to waste.
I made my way through the forest, the scent of salty air riding on the breeze. I kept reminding myself this wasn’t home, this was not my realm. The similarities ended the second I left the clearing and began my trek. The earth felt colder, denser almost, nothing like the softness beneath my hooves like I was accustomed too. Something felt off, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Birds flew overhead and insects scuttered about the ground, their chirping ringing in my ears. I could hear it all, every voice stretching for miles. The voice of the land, yet it didn’t utter my name like it had done last night. The chorus of hums continued, the volume increasing with every step I took deeper into the forest. No footsteps followed me and my comrades were nowhere in sight. I was alone once more, just as I’d been after my banishment. My only hope for them was that I would find them first.
As I approached the edge of the forest, I found myself overlooking the ocean. Salty air filled my nose, a nauseating feeling washed over me. I didn’t mind water, but gazing at it from this distance reminded me of my mortality, and how easily it would be to fall to my death. I stepped back, nothing sat beyond the horizon, where I stood seemed to be the only land around. Not even the voices seemed welcome here. Which meant only one thing, I would have to navigate my way through the forest to find the source of the voices. They were my only hope at finding my friends.
I walked back into the forest and hunted around the base of the trees in search of an insect. I wasn’t particular about the type, I only needed a single specimen to question. I plucked a grazing butterfly from a nearby daisy and held it within my hands.
‘Speak to me, oh little one, tell me what you have seen,’ I chanted. My hands pulsed with light, the butterfly flapped its wings, its antenna wiggling.
‘Please don’t hurt me, please,’ it begged.
I made a face then pushed my question once more, ‘I would never harm a little one, I only wish for you to tell me what you’ve seen. Have any adventurers passed by here?’
The butterfly took half steps in my hands, stretching its shimmering wings. ‘Adventurers you say?’ it asked, ‘Aye, I’ve seen some. A weird looking cat, dressed in purple finery, a blue-skinned scholar and someone with fiery tresses.’
My comrades had made it safely into the realm, that was a relief.
‘But they were accompanied by the tribe who owns these woodlands,’ it added.
‘Then how do I find them?’ I asked.
The butterfly twitched his antenna and said, ‘Try the heart of the Niverson’s Grove.’ As it spoke the words it escaped my grasp, disappearing far up into the company.
‘Thanks for your help,’ I said with a sigh.
Still a good deed such as that deserved compensation.
I plucked a single bloom from my flower crown, and planted it beside the daisy. It looked happily being reunited with the earth more so than it did acting as decoration. I knelt before the tree trunk, placing my hands on the ground. The chorus of hums started once more, but they were distant, much like they’d been on the cliffside. My only option was to venture deeper into the forest. I got back onto my hooves and placed both my hands upon the tree trunk, little sprouts covered the bark and while it might look pleasing to the eye, it was a reminder to myself of where I’d ventured.
The forest might not have been my home, but I wondered if it had similar magical enchantments that protected the Wynduff Woodlands. Any tribe would be a fool not to have something like that in place, unless they weren’t magic users at all. I pondered numerous possibilities while I trekked through the forest, careful with my steps not to disturb the earth.
Small woodland creatures scattered when alerted to my presence, and part of the way I followed them, hopeful they might lead me to my destination. Every step I took deeper into the forest, the louder the chorus of hums and tapping on drums seemed to be.
A ritual of some sort, no. A celebration, perhaps.
My mind ran wild with possibilities but nothing prepared me for what I found at the heart of the forest. A wooden sign clearly labelled, Niverson’s Grove, told me I was in the correct place. A sigh of relief at the thought of finally being able to rest my hooves after all that walking.
I swept away the ivy canopy and entered the grove. I didn’t quite know what I was expecting when the butterfly had told me its name, but I wasn’t expecting a full civilisation hiding in the forest.
Treehouses suspended in the canopy above, with lanterns hanging between the structures. Bridges built from wooden slacks and rope connected the huts, and in the distance I saw a member of what I believed were the tribe, yet I couldn’t make out their features. My gaze lowered, following the winding structures centred around a grand willow tree. Several figures darted about the bridges, running recklessly as if it wouldn’t collapse any minute. Just watching them had my stomach in knots. On the ground sat several structures, seeming to be more like a community hut and craft houses, similar to that of my own tribe. Dotted around the open space were fields of tilted lands and several hands tending to the newly sprouting seeds. On the opposite side, cattle grazed happily, seemingly well kept and cared for.
I shuffled further into the Niverson’s Grove, I looked for a distinct marking that would label a hut of the chieftain, convinced he must have my comrades in custody. But yet as I gazed up at each of the community huts I couldn’t find a mark. All I saw were beings that looked similar to me but different too. Their bodies were slender and towering, long limbs and goat-like horns and hooves.
Firbolgs.
I watched a group weaving baskets, feeling strangely at ease in their presence. It felt like I was back home again, watching the Elders with their crafting. But I had to remind myself this was not my home, this was not my tribe, I was here for only two reasons. To find my comrades, and to complete my trial gate. I backed out of the community hut and closed my eyes to listen to the land. The gentle humming and beating of drums still present, the loudest it had been since I entered this realm. They had to be close by.
One hut stood at the centre of the grove, broader built and stained with a darker varnish. A symbol I didn’t quite recognise decorated the curtains, repeated in a pattern. I listened carefully, the drums pounded in my ears, this had to be the place. The chieftains hut.
I walked in, unannounced, aware I was breaking every law if the tribe was similar to my own. No one, no manner their status could enter the Chieftains hut without proper introduction by that of the hunting party. As I entered, I saw no firbolgs in armour. No one so much as glanced at me.
But there before me, were three similar faces, bounded in leafy vines and kneeling before a stoic firbolg. He was stout with a wild mane, littered with braids tied in cord string and feathers.
‘Today we put these three on trial,’ he bellowed. His audience watched him intently. ‘They dared trespass into our realm, claiming they were here for a relic.’
‘But it’s the-’ Barcius tried to explain but was cut off.
‘Silence,’ the chieftain bellowed. ‘Do not speak unless spoken to. As you all know our tribe Seer, my daughter, Ghiaso, was taken from us by the fiend who has claimed our temple as its own. I do not think for a moment that these heretics are here by mistake. They have been sent by the fiend to capture more of our children.’
The audience muttered amongst themselves, hatred laced in their words. This whole trial was barbaric, yet I understood the tribe must have been scared. A young girl was missing. The Seer, the statue of hope for the people, was gone.
I stood at the back of the crowd and drew my crook. I drove the end into the floor, tapping it until the audience were silent. One by one they turned their heads, their faces full of shock that I dared to interrupt them. I stood holding my position, a false confidence powering my resolve.
My comrades were last to look at me. Mitztail shook his head, and he and Barcius shared an expression as if to ask if I’m crazy. Tarasque didn’t seem too impressed. But there was little the three of them could do when they were the ones bound in rope.
‘What is this?’ the Chieftain bellowed. ‘Who dares interrupt my hearing? A child?’
A surge of anger rushed through my body. I wanted to scream at him, using the bottled annoyance I’d spent years saving for my own father. But I took a breath and reminded myself, this firbolg was not that man. He was just a ruler of a tribe that was vaguely similar to my own.
‘I am Saria Clovercress, of the Windcaller Tribe,’ I called, my voice echoing throughout the hut. ‘I am no mere child, I am the Seer of my tribe.’
Not one firbolg in the crowd uttered a sound. I felt a swell of pride in myself, even though I knew it was all an act to save my friends.
‘I’ve never heard of you,’ the Chieftain scoffed.
A grin appeared on my lips, ‘Exactly. Although it’s not important as to who I am but more why I am here,’ I said, bridging the gap between us until I stood inches away from my comrades. ‘I see you have found my comrades, I trust they weren’t too much trouble for you. I’ll remove them from your care and if there is nothing you require our assistance with we will leave.’
I flicked my wrist, the rope binding their wrists snapped and dropped to the floor. My comrades got to their feet, and moved to position themselves by my side. The four of us turned on our heels, with Tarasque leading the back towards the exit.
‘Wait,’ the Chieftain called out. ‘Are you truly a Seer?’
I narrowed my brows and said, ‘Do you doubt me, or do you require proof of my power?’ I gave him a minute to reply, yet it never came. I tapped my crook on the ground, three single taps. A vine sprouted from the earth, coiling itself around my weapon and up my arm.
The chieftain recoiled in his chair, ‘Then it is true,’ he replied, almost gasping for breath. ‘Ghiaso said you would come. A Seer outcast from her own tribe is said to enter our realm and deliver us from the evil within.’
Whispers erupted amongst the crowd.
I nodded and said, ‘I believe I know this presence you speak of. Tell us the location and we shall slay the fiend and return your daughter.’
‘That’s just the thing, Ghiaso wasn’t the only girl stolen.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow?’ I queried.
‘The darkling took them all.’
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