Hey dudes, Ed was unfortunately too busy to edit for me this time, so I had to do it myself like I used to. As such, you might see some more errors than usual. Enjoy!
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Sam woke with a start. "Wha? What was that?" He muttered, rubbing his forehead.
'Was that just a dream...?' He wondered. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the fog from his mind. 'No, that was more than just a dream. It felt far too vivid. I can remember every word, every sensation clearly. It was something real for sure.' He took a deep breath. 'The messenger. They called me the Hanged Man. I know I've heard that somewhere before, but when was it? And... queenkiller. That sounds ominous. Well, I suppose both of them do...'
He leaned forward, resting his forehead in his hands. It didn't register at the time, but he was surprisingly limber compared to the soreness of a couple hours before. 'All that stuff he said, it's kinda unbelievable. I shouldn't really take it too seriously right...?' His eyes stared sightlessly at his feet. '...It's as if I can't
not
believe it somehow. My fate. What does all this mean?'
Sam leaned back, taking a slow breath. Dettella was still asleep across from him, but the handmaiden, Giela, was no longer in the carriage. Theodore snored softly beside him. He'd been looking considerably less pale since the young elf worked on him, but his cheeks were still sunken and his eyes were ringed with a muted purple. Looking out the window, he realized it was still quite dark out. Apparently, he hadn't slept for very long.
'I need to clear my head a bit.' He thought and pulled his cloak over his shoulders as he pushed open the door. In the back of his mind, he felt Samson stirring, but he didn't approach, seemingly sensing that Sam wanted to be alone.
As he stepped out into the cool air of night, he saw a similar campfire to the night before. This time, Giela was sat next to a disgruntled looking Fenella. The captive elves glanced back at the huge furry form that circled the perimeter of the clearing several times as Sam watched. Letta's glossy black eyes reflected the flickering flame as she glanced at him. Apparently sensing the same thing Samson had, she didn't speak to him.
Darrel was leaned against a tree with his eyes closed and arms crossed. Sam wondered if he was sleeping. As far as he knew, the guard didn't sleep at all, but perhaps he'd caught him at one of the few moments he did. One eye flicked open as Sam walked past. 'Guess not.' As he left the dancing circle of light, he heard some of the elves starting to argue softly. He was curious about what they were arguing about, but not enough to stay and find out.
'I'll just take a short walk.' The forest was so black that his eyes couldn't adjust to it no matter how he strained. It felt... well, dark. In order to be able to find his way back, he began leaving small binds to the crusty bark of the trees as he walked. As he did so, he tried to control the amount of magic in his body.
It was difficult at first, especially with the demented happiness nagging at his mind, but after a little while he was able to keep the light of his forms at a soft glow. 'I need to practice this sort of thing more often. If I can't control my own magic I'll just keep having those episodes of lunacy.'
'I can't let myself do that. I'll end up hurting someone. Like what already happened with Vielchena...' He shook his head. 'I think I really messed up her mind somehow. Was it that bad? Dettella still hasn't really elaborated on what happened. I probably scarred her permanently. All because I couldn't control myself. I don't know what's worse, that I did it in the first place, or that I don't really feel guilty about it anymore. To be fair, she did attack us...'
Sam watched his booted feet scuff softly along the needle-ridden ground as he walked. His left hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword. 'What am I gonna do...' He found himself at the roots to the most immense tree he'd ever seen. Which was saying something, considering the smallest trees in the forest was at least as big around as a hot tub.
"Ho-ly shiiit..." He whispered as he tracked the tree from the base upward. There wasn't a top. Or rather, he couldn't see the top of it. It grew steadily darker the further up he looked until it just looked like a starless sky. Logically, what he was about to do was absurd, but next to that tree that defied all of that, absurdity and logic didn't really mean much. With that idea in mind, he began to crawl up the roots towards the bottom of the trunk.
'Now, this would be an ideal place for an elven city.' He thought as he pressed his hand to the tree's thick bark. He bound his hand to the tree. Then, his left foot, right foot, left hand, and he began to ascend. At first it was slow going as he had to consciously had to release and reattach each bind as he went, but after a time he began to do it almost automatically.
It became a subconscious thing, his climbing. He didn't think, didn't even respond when Samson asked him what he was doing. It was as if he fell into a trance where all he knew how to do was climb, so he that is what he did. He didn't even take breaks to regain his strength, he didn't even register the exhaustion. Not until he reached the first branch, that is.
"Hah... Hah... Whoa! Hah... How did I get up here so quick?!" Sam said, each breath he took burned his lungs. He didn't have the strength to sit up from his prone position on the broad branch. The spongey, black moss depressed beneath his weight, offering surprisingly good comfort. "Man... I'm tired..."
Drowsiness seemed to sweep his feet from under him, overtaking even the exhaustion of the climb. He was asleep in seconds.
Sam woke a few seconds later and sat up. The black moss was squishy in that fun to touch sort of way. Glowing purple plants crept along the wide branch, illuminating the doorway into the tree. The opening was lying horizontally on the branch, which he thought was odd, but walked into it just the same. Gravity shifted as he stepped into the doorway. It led to a grand hall made entirely of wood. More vine-like plants of white lit the room.
The multicolored swirling grain was beautiful, and the intricate carvings only added to that. Distantly, Sam felt the hall's existence was illogical. How could a room so huge fit into the much smaller branch, no matter how big it was relative to the average tree branch. That thought quickly sank into the 'low priority' section of his brain as he gazed around at the carvings. 'Amazing.' He thought.
The entire left wall depicted a desolate wasteland, where only a single man stood with his back to Sam. His dark brown hair fell in disheveled tangles, and his thick beard was unkempt. Small, square shaped scars ringed his neck, their pale color standing out on his tanned skin. More scars lined his bare back, they looked like those gained from a lashing. A white crow sat perched on the man's right shoulder, it's black beak opened in a screech, blue eye looking intently toward Sam.
The man wore only a pair of blue pants, black boots and a single black leather glove on his right hand. A navy colored coat, a plain white T-shirt, and the matching glove were in a crumpled pile at his feet. Sam just stared at the figure of the man for a minute. Everything about the carving seemed so real, it was as if the man would start moving any second now. Even the sickly yellowish dirt beneath his boots seemed so detailed, almost as if Sam could just go over and scoop some up.
Clearly whoever had carved this piece was a genius. No stone left unturned in the work. If there hadn't been the subtle lines of wood grain, it would have easily been mistaken for real. He was reluctant, but finally he turned away from the carving. His gaze strayed toward the carving on the right wall, but his eyes did not reach it.
Standing straight ahead was a young girl. 'When...?' He thought. The girl just looked calmly at him with caramel brown eyes that gleamed with an intelligence far beyond her appearance.
"You're not a girl," He said.
"Excuse me?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I mean, like, you're not a child." Sam corrected.
She just looked at him silently for a moment, her red hair shimmering as she tilted her head. "A strange greeting, but yes, you are correct. I am older than I appear."
"Who are you?" He asked. Somewhere in his mind he was surprised at his frankness.
"I am the tree."
"I don't understand."
"Hm. I do not know how to explain." Her head tilted left and she got a quizzical look on her face. "I am... the spirit of the tree? The soul? I suppose that would be the closest description though it still is not exactly right. I am only a small part of the tree. A part that lives at a fast pace."
"...I still don't get it." Sam replied, looking at the girl blankly. "Whatever. Doesn't really matter much. Did you make these carvings?"
"In a way, yes." The tree answered.
"What does that mean?"
"I did not create them on my own. I only did the carving. I saw the images in a 'vision' of sorts."
"I see..." Sam said, frowning slightly. "If you're the tree, then why would you carve into yourself?"
"Tattoos." The tree replied, smiling faintly. "It is the same concept."
"Hm... That makes sense." Sam muttered, still frowning. "Who is the man, do you know?"
The girl hesitated, looking at him. "No, I don't really know. When I carve, I go into a trance-like state. I am not sure of many details of any of my carvings, they sort of just... happen. The names of the pieces themselves are at the bottom. I'm not certain what they mean either."
Sam glanced over to the bottom of the carving. The name was
Horizon
. 'I see. It's because he's looking to the horizon perhaps?' Then, he looked to the right side of the room and let out a soft gasp. The carving was as stunning in quality as the one on the right, despite the completely different image.
It was focused on a young girl, around 10, he thought. She had dazzling icy blue eyes and golden blonde hair. Her face was clean, and her expression was full of excitement and curiosity. She wore a small red coat, and on her back she carried a matching satchel of dyed red leather. Below, she wore brown traveling pants with small black boots. Everything about her appeared clean and unused. As if she was just leaving on a journey.
Adding to that effect, far behind her stood a family waving after her. They were too far to really make out their faces, but they all appeared to have blonde hair. The apparent father leaned on a cane, and the mother had a hand on his shoulder. Three other children stood about them, one was clearly several years older than the other two, who appeared to be younger than five. They stood in front of a small building of two stories made of a combination of wood and brick. A sign was placed on the building, but it was unreadable from the acute angle.
The image was shown with the girl mid-stride, walking on a cobbled road. Other buildings surrounded the road. They were somewhat similar in appearance to the one the family stood before in that they were all well kept, well made, and mostly of polished wood rather than painted. It seemed quite a cheerful sight in comparison to the bleak setting of the other carving. Just below it,
Daughter
was scrawled.
"Do these have any sort of meaning to them?" Sam asked.
"Mm. Perhaps, but if they do, I do not know the meaning." She replied, looking thoughtful. "My people call me an oracle though I find it to be a misnomer. What I carve is only a possibility among many. Only a few of them ever happen."
"Are you saying that these are possibilities for my future or others?"
