A vast forest stood before him, not as dense as his home but forest nonetheless. The trees, mostly ash and pine with some oak and spruce, at forty feet, stunted compared to the Mushtran trees, which were at least a hundred and seventy. Being used to the forest and feeling oppressed by the vast nothingness he had traversed he was glad for the shade. He rested against the first tree, looking back at the rocky incline he had just climbed. After that were the undulating and shifting sands of the desert, where he had spent the last four and a half days wandering. It had been his own fault really, angry and hurt by his grandmother's unfair treatment he had not been paying attention to what he was doing. Instead of going up the rocks and to the forest, he had gone into the desert, not even sensing the presence of the forest. When he had finally thought to find a specific place to go he had walked for most of the day and it had been dusk already. Whilst his journey into the desert had been easy, enough he could not find the path he had taken and his sense of direction had led him up and down countless sand dunes that had looked the same, to his despair. Subsequently it had taken him three more days to reach the forest edge.
Unlike any other Mushtran Ferik needed growing things about him to thrive, the relentless sun brutally pounding into him had repeatedly reminded him. Unlike his brother Adner, he could not automatically regulate the heat about him or his body temperature. He had tried, his second day, but the energy for constantly maintaining the regulation, the sun and depressing landscape had sapped. As a forest guardian too much sun was debilitating and the desert sun had been merciless. He had not felt like eating as he had walked the desert but as the feel of the forest washed over him, he felt his appetite renewed. In his heart he asked Ariantha for food and was amazed at the different feel of her from when he had been in the forest, she seemed present; that she was alive was further pronounced, as was her pain. He ate slowly, keeping in contact with the world, something he had never been able to do, trying to understand what the pain was. Beneath the pain, he sensed deep sadness, a sense of profound and ancient loss he could not fathom and a certainty of wrongness he could not comprehend. Their world was bleeding, with a wound that had endured for ages and been deepened with each passing of the grains of time. He understood that as if the wound had been in him, unfelt until that moment. It tore him apart even as he had the strength to withstand and go on, had gone on for these ages. Yet, the end was almost there; soon the wound would be too deep to endure, too much to live with that so much would be lost. Much more than Ferik could imagine and had yet to know. It seemed, to his overwhelmed senses, that there was no hope of anything else. If there had been someone who could have known and done something. Yet he knew that he had to heal that pain that it was his responsibility to heal the pain, profound as it was.
He got up and turned to go into the forest, letting the intense pain fade to the background where it was even as it let him be. It might be forest, and he was glad to be in it instead of the desert, but it had none of what he was accustomed to as the feel of the forest. The air, though cooler than the desert, was not much better. It was dry, with none of the quirin in it, the ground did not resound with it and the trees... Something was wrong with the trees, not all of them but most. Not the same wrongness as was in Ariantha but different even it was a part of it.
He had been going further into the forest and looking back, he saw that the edge of the forest was much denser than inward so that he could not see outside it. He stopped to listen, trying to find out what about the forest was not right. The trees talked, but the language was off, he could not understand it. His language gave him the ability to understand all languages, and being a guardian, he understood the languages of all trees on any world, but he could not understand this. Their leaves moved in the still air as if a gust of strong wind assailed them, the wave rippling from one tree to another as if they were passing on a message that they repeated every few minutes. Ferik got the feeling that they were reporting his progress so he resumed walking, faster, wanting to see where the message was going. Even though the sense of wrongness still pervaded the air Ferik sensed it was no threat to him and the forest guardian in him wanted to ease the pain of the trees. In some way, he would be easing Ariantha and he thought he had to start somewhere.
He walked on, faster and faster the trees seeming to applaud him, something that had never happened to him before.
Suddenly he stopped. He could have kicked himself; instead of walking, he could have simply willed the forest to move beneath him. He'd wasted a good half hour on what could have been an instant, the forest here was not like the Mushtran forest where to want to be somewhere was as good as being there, the only other consideration being how far you were willing to walk. Gathering about him the power of the forest he felt the quirin in it but it was weak, and the whole forest power had a dark benign force that underlay it. Painstakingly he excluded the dark power knowing it would hinder him but he felt it gather about him and become malignant, slowly he let go of what he had gathered and it went back to being benign.
The trees were now still, as if watching to see what he would do, a rustling ripple moved away from him every few moments, now muted. They seemed breathless with anticipation though of what Ferik could not guess, what did trees yearn for?
He sat down on the leaf covered forest floor his fingers digging into the moist leaves underneath. There was a trace of the darkness in the dead leaves but an insignificant bit, more an expectance of new growth and the nourishment of decaying nature with the power that held. The ground beneath was all earth power, more than he'd ever touched in the quirin rich Mushtran forest and it was closer to the ground surface. With his fingertips on the ground it burned rapidly into him, as if he were an unexpected conduit and it was eager for him. He knew he only touched a small part of it, vast as it seemed, and he understood his brother Aegan's reluctance to utilize the force he was somehow a part. As a forest guardian, he could utilize it to a degree so he called upon it and made his request, instantly he saw the reddish-brown power rise, touch him briefly and reside. He had never had the need to call upon the earthpower so he was unprepared for what it felt like. Foresthym, or forest power, was a gentle, nurturing, life-giving force that sustained all but this was nothing close to being like that. It was fire and yet unlike, molten rock and still not, consuming even as it was comforting, unlimited even as the foresthym was but in a more blatant way. His body tingled, burned luxuriantly and with the speed of light, the trees whipped past him as he whisked by them. He felt neither wind nor his own motion, just a peaceful existence as if he was merely sitting in the sun on a pleasant day. Had it been natural, the speed would have crashed his bones in seconds but natural forces were alien to the Mushtrans so he was unaware of this despite knowing the concept.
As soon as it had begun, his journey was over, he now sat in a cobbled courtyard with tuffets of grass between the stones, and a short wall circled it a large arced gateway leading into it from the south and another out to the steps of a palace. Moss covered the wall and beyond it was a remnant of what had been a beautiful garden, full of exotic trees artfully interspaced with delicately shaped fountains and statuary. Though overgrown and weed-chocked, the garden was still pleasing, a breath of cool air wafted through its stone paved pathways to the sound of a trickling stream that meandered about. The fountains still poured out water though their ponds were leaf chocked and green with algae. Climbing vines claimed the statues of long gone heroes and mythical beings but the marble was still smooth.
Reddish-gold leaves carpeted everything, even the impressive porch at the front of the palace. It was six storied, covered almost a hectare with multiple balconies styled to be individual in pattern and still managed to be a whole. Wide glass doors led from them and for the most part the walls were of glass so that many of the rooms had a view of the forest. The framework of sparse walls holding the glass together had vines, as did the pillars that the palace looked homey and almost rustic even with its daunting size. The house reflected the forest about it and the sun shone upon it as if embracing it.
Ferik noted that the trees were now unnaturally still, not a single leaf rustled even in the slight breeze he could feel. A breathless pause as they waited to see what he would do. He looked about him; the courtyard had beautifully arrayed fragrant shrubs once shaped. Though overgrown like the other, the shrubs had none of the wildness. Just inside the north gate were two oaks that did not look as if they were. If Ferik had not been adept at recognizing trees, he would have been at a loss to know them. They were twisted as if a childish and deformed hand had shaped them and hence deformed them. The branches cruelly and painfully contorted the stunted trees had bulbourous leprous contusions. They seemed to be the centre of the pain and agony underlying the forest as tree sap flowed from them as if from sores. He had no doubt that the trees were really in pain, as he focused on them, he felt their acute agony, a pulsing torment of wrongness that nauseated him. Reluctant, wavering he walked towards them noting that they had grown into one tree because of their proximity; he also noted the lovely, tall and graceful ash growing besides them as if to balance their ugliness. Reaching them, he hesitated, wanting to touch the ash but knowing he had to touch the oaks in order to understand. Breathing in deeply he laid his hand on the conjoined trees.
Instant darkness surrounded him, swirling dank and chocking darkness, the kind that was so insidious it overwhelmed the senses to fill all with confusion. Nothing could possibly live here, could possibly survive. His heart pounded furiously as fear, something he had never known, settled like a heavy mantle over him. He felt nothing, neither cold nor warmth, sight was impossible as was hearing, nor was he aware of his own body seeming to be a disembodied being. He tried to retreat but the almost viscous darkness sucked him back, the insubstantial being that was his awareness had no choice but to move forward.
For what could have been a minute or a lifetime he walked, his natural mental state reasserted itself to drive away the unnatural fear. Though he was aware that he was moving there was no physical awareness of motion that he might as well have been standing. As the darkness about him lessened, somewhat, he saw that he was in a long corridor with black oozing scabrous walls, the floor filled with the slime he could still not feel. At the end of the corridor was a door made of the same material, as the walls and it had no discernible door handle. Again, he placed his hand to it. His hand sank in and this time he felt everything, more acutely than normal sensation. A chill raced to his heart, sharp and instant. He would have been killed had his nature not burned in his blood at the same moment. Again, he could not retreat so he stepped into the viscous door, like a hot rod hissing into surrounding water he thrust himself into the numbing cold.
