Chapter 7 – A New Home
“Are you all right?” Mura asked, placing her hand on Kasparian’s shoulder.
He looked away from the crystal up at the young red-haired woman. She’d stood by him through it all, and he mustered up a smile. “I will be. Find us a place to stay. I will soon understand its secrets.”
Mura bent down and stared into the crystal. “It’s beautiful and ominous. It looks like… Like a wraith dancing in fire.”
A wraith? Kasparian scratched his chin. A wraith wasn’t exactly a creature of light, but neither was the power he felt from the crystal. Had the onyx’s dark energy corrupted it? The assassins used the black gems’ illusionary powers to cause fear and gain the upper hand in combat, but had he been too greedy in wanting to control all three kinds of energy? “We’ll understand more in a few months. By then, we will be ready to return to Kanthos and show them why all of this was necessary. When we cure the sick and heal the wounded, everything will be forgiven,” he said, reassuring himself as much as Mura.
Mura raised her eyebrow as she helped him up but said nothing. She did pause to study his burned hands, though. “We need to get them bandaged.”
Kasparian shook his head. “I deserve this. The pain will be a reminder of the price of power.”
Mura grabbed his arm. “If it gets infected, we have to take your hands.”
With a sigh, Kasparian nodded and let the young woman clean his wounds and wrap them in cloth. “Thank you,” he whispered afterwards, looking into her eyes.
Mura gave a simple nod. “Tell me it was all worth it?”
Kasparian smirked as he raised the crystal. “We have our price right here. It took more from us than I had hoped, but it was worth it, I promise.”
Mura sighed and helped him up on their horse. She nodded at the other disciples, sitting in silence with their heads low. “Faith is not forever. So far, that thing has cost us nothing but suffering and death – the exact opposite of why we chose to follow you.”
Kasparian looked around, only now realising how depressed and lost his disciples appeared. They were not fighters, yet many of them had died fighting for him and for what he believed. “My friends!” he called out. “I’ve asked for too much. We have lost too many, and we did things none of us is proud of.” He pressed his forehead against the crystal. “The power of this thing is immense. It is destined for greatness, and when I understand how to control it, we can return to our home.”
“It could take years. Where will we stay?” asked a slim man.
“We all deserve peace after everything that has happened. What we need is a place far from prying eyes. We will find those things in Melorn Forest,” Kasparian said.
“Melorn? That is dryad territory,” Mura reasoned.
“Dryads are kind and empathic beings. They will leave us alone. They don’t care much about the gods or bishops,” Kasparian explained.
A few moments later, they all rode north towards Miller’s Island. Two bridges connected the island with the north and south of Elonia, making it the fastest way for farmers to cross with their carriages. Merchants had realised this long ago and built several windmills on the island to mill the farmers’ grain.
Less than ten minutes before reaching the first bridge, Kasparian and his disciples met such a farmer, the sacks on his wagon all cut open, spilling his precious flour at every bump in the road. “Morons. Stupid metal fools!” he swore.
Kasparian patted Mura’s arm, wanting her to stop. “Excuse me, sir. What happened? Were you robbed?”
“Robbed? Was I robbed? This was much worse. Those Gjandir nutters think they can do whatever they want. Spilling a man’s bread and butter on the ground,” the farmer snorted, adding, “A stone has more brains than those freaks.”
“That’s something we can all agree on. They have the bridge blocked, then?” Kasparian asked.
The man grunted, whipping his horse to get it moving. “They are looking for smugglers or thieves, I’m guessing. But that doesn’t give them the right to throw away my hard-earned product.”
Kasparian exhaled, watching the farmer drive off. “We cannot cross here. We have to go to Larien. The dryads can get us across.”
“Why would they help?” asked one of his disciples.
“It is who they are. If we treat them with respect, they will do the same to us. I met several of their kind in Kanthos, trading dryad medicine and herbs for tools and food. They are kind and naive,” Kasparian replied.
Hours later, the group rode into the forest south of the large river that split the land of Elonia in two. Many tree stumps stood around them, the people of Kanthos responsible as they needed the timber. But the great forest still stood tall the farther north of Kanthos they got.
Sitting behind Mura, Kasparian only glanced at the great trees and thick vines, unable to keep his focus away from the crystal for long.
A few hundred metres into the forest, Mura clapped his leg and nodded at the trees on their right.
A slender, green-skinned man was studying them, pausing his work of plucking berries. But it wasn’t the dryad who’d caught Mura’s attention. Next to the man lay a long slender beast, a serpent of some sort but with four sturdy legs. It raised its scaled head and glared their way, flashing its many sharp teeth in a dreadful hiss.
“I thought you said these people were harmless?” Mura asked, passing the man and his pet.
“They are harmless but not defenceless. From what I have heard, they have some form of symbiosis with nature. The dryads can manipulate the forest and its beasts,” Kasparian explained. “As long as we treat them with respect, we will be safe.”
All eight riders nearly broke their necks from looking up and around as they entered the dryad city of Larien half an hour later. The trees were enormous. These people of the forest lived in them and in smaller huts underneath. The forest provided shelter, food and everything else they needed.
When three children ran across the road farther ahead, Kasparian frowned. Two of them were not dryads. They were humans, just like himself and his disciples. A closer look revealed that several of the men and women who now approached were also human.
They stopped the horses as an older woman stepped out from the group and raised her arms. “Welcome to Larien, travellers. We offer hot soup and shelter to those who come in peace – why are you here?” She had a powerful voice and spoke with a foreign but melodic accent.
Kasparian hid the crystal inside his cloak before he got himself down from the back of Mura’s horse. “We come in peace,” he said with a smile. “We are travelling north and seek passage across the river. We will pay.”
The woman studied them closely, obviously looking for weapons. Then she smirked. “Keep your coin – they are of no use out here. Let us take care of those magnificent animals so you can share your stories with us.”
Kasparian bowed and signalled for his disciples to hand over the horses.
When the woman led them under great trees as wide as a small house, she grinned at their expressions. “You have never visited the dryads before? Our city, Éira, in the north, is our pride.”
Kasparian stared at the thick vines growing up the trees, full of colourful flowers, and when they arrived at the city’s centre, his jaw dropped. Humans and dryads, men and women, sat together around the forest floor. Some baked bread or cooked soup; others spun cotton into thread or made clothes.
Children ran around, playing with each other or their animal companions. One had a serpent, smaller than the one they had seen outside the city but still large enough to be a threat. But the beast didn’t seem aggressive around the children.
Several other creatures shared the forest with the people living here, most of them foreign to Kasparian. Some had wings, some looked mostly like plants, while another resembled a green ape with long arms that it dragged along. Most had scaly green colours, but some had thick fur that seemed to change colour when it got near the children.
“You allow humans to stay with you?” Kasparian asked, surprised by how many there were.
The dryad woman signalled for them to sit at a small fireplace where three women prepared vegetables for soup. “The forest is for everyone who sees the beauty of nature and has love in their hearts.” She smiled and nodded at one of the women at the fireplace. “This is Arthana. Her father is a dryad, and her mother is human. She will make sure you are fed and find a place for you to sleep for the night.”
Kasparian reached his hand out. “Thank you. Are you the… matriarch?” he asked, not knowing the titles or hierarchies of the dryad society.
The older woman laughed. “We don’t have rulers. Everyone here has tasks to carry out, ensuring we are dressed and fed. Beyond that, they are free to do as they like.”
Kasparian raised his eyebrow. How could a city function with no one in charge? “These people look up to you. I can see the respect in their eyes.”
The woman smiled. “I’m a seer, responsible for communicating with the guardians and protecting the people until a new elder will be appointed.” She took Kasparian’s hand and studied the bandages. “I think we can do better. Arthana, fetch some kortan salve.”
The young woman nodded and sprinted off.
Later that night, Kasparian lay on his back next to the fireplace, studying his hands. They were grim to behold, and it was a miracle that he could even move a few of his fingers. The pain was gone, though, thanks to the dryad salve.
Beyond his hands, he found thousands of stars shining down on them. But why could he see the stars? Earlier, the trees had blocked out the sun and blue skies. This place was strange and magical, and for a moment, he forgot about the purple crystal.
Mura sat at his side, talking to the woman Arthana. “Why did your mother come here?”
“There was nothing left for her in Kanthos. The noise, the filth – it all just became too much. She met my father at a market. He traded dryad wares for tools, one of the few things humans possess that can make life easier out here,” the half-dryad replied.
“Why do you stay?” Mura’s forehead wrinkled. “You could leave and go back to Kanthos?”
“I could,” Arthana confirmed. “But why would I? I have everything I need right here, and everyone lives in unity. In Kanthos, I would be poor, perhaps even living alone on the street. The spirits take care of us here, and we will never be poor.”
Listening to their conversation, Kasparian sighed. In this place, he almost felt at peace. As if some magical power dampened the hatred in his heart. If more people knew about it, he was sure that many more from Kanthos would choose the way of the dryads.
Kasparian’s peace didn’t last long, though, as his mind wandered back to the crystal. His hands found it inside his cloak, and he turned his back to the two women, turning the gem as he studied every aspect of it.
A sudden shouting cracked the silence of the peaceful city. “Search everywhere! They are here. You saw the tracks.”
Kasparian sprung up, recognising the voice. It was Jillana, the captain of the holy warriors, but he could not see anyone in the darkness. All the small fireplaces burned low by now.
He heard the voice of the seer, then. “Do you come in peace or with ill intent?”
“Seer Irnuva, we come in peace. But if you are sheltering enemies of Kanthos and the followers of Gjandir, the punishment will be severe,” a deep male voice replied, one that Kasparian also recognised. It was Bishop Rongart.
He pulled Mura up, roused the others and ran through the city in the dark of night. He was confident the seer would sell them out. No one could be trusted – not even these people.
When they reached the sandy shore, Kasparian pulled a dryad from a small fireplace where he sat with two others. Placing his knife to the dryad’s throat, he pointed at the four rafts lying on the sand. “Get us to the other side. Now!”
The three dryads nodded and ran to the rafts, picking up their paddles.
“Burn the three others,” Kasparian commanded. He climbed on board the raft, watching Mura use her sceptre to fire arrows at the other vessels.
This night, there was almost no wind, but the three dryads still paddled furiously, afraid for their lives.
Kasparian, Mura, and the other disciples gazed back at the shore from the open water. A long row of holy warriors was lining up, the flames from the burning rafts reflected in their shiny armours.
“Will we ever be safe?” asked Mura, not taking her eyes from the company of plated warriors.
“They won’t be able to find us where we are going,” Kasparian said.
They all stared at the shoreline in silence. The number of warriors had doubled since their last encounter at the cave. The followers of Gjandir clearly intended to wipe them out. Perhaps they even wanted the crystal for themselves? Kasparian clenched it tightly.