Interlude 13 (1): The Blood Thorn (1) |
Caelera clung onto Blood-Root as the gigantic tree-folk smashed one huge fist into the face of the titan. The titan staggered. His adamantine helmet dented beneath the force of the blow, but he would have died then and there if not for the helmet's protection. Teeth more than three times the height of an elf flew from the mile-tall giant's mouth and thudded into the smouldering ground. Around them, the titan's lesser kin were locked in battle with countless tree-folk, nymphs, elves, dryads, and other denizens of the great woods.
There was a flash of light, and the battlefield was riven by another blast of stellar magic wielded by the Fourth Awakening dragon who had positioned herself over the centre of the struggle. The titan spat a river of blood from his mouth and steadied himself. He held a hammer covered in sap in one hand and a mangled shield in the other. That sap belonged to the other tree-folk the titan had faced. But none of those tree-folk had been as large or as experienced as Blood-Root, nor had any of them marched into battle with a true partner at their side.
"I will need your aid for this battle," Blood-Root rumbled. "This titan is strong. Given his size and might... I am tempted to think him one of the few who refused the call to arms against the Broken God, but he is no coward. He must have had his own reasons to avoid that battle."
The titan bristled at his words. "I heeded the call to arms, tree-folk, and I was wounded almost to my death. Luck alone saved me, and even then, I would have perished if not for the aid of my kin." He spat more blood from his mouth, along with teeth. "Stand aside, tree-folk. I have no enmity with you."
"You stand against Mother Tree," Blood-Root replied. "And so there must be enmity between us." He readied himself again, the wounds upon his body closing as new bark, wood, and vines crawled over his gargantuan form. "Caelera..."
"I know," the elf replied. "I will use my break-song."
The titan's broken jaw clenched, and then he sprang forward, hammer raised. "I will strike you both down before you can use it!"
The hammer thudded into Blood-Root's upraised arm. Bark harder than any metal threatened to give way, and the tree-folk's root-feet sank deep into the smouldering ground. It was a fine blow, but Blood-Root was strong. His arm held firm, and then he lashed out with a blow of his own. His other hand turned from a fist into a claw of jagged wood and splintering bark. Sparks flew as the strike skittered off the titan's breastplate. The metal sang, a high-discordant note, and a great gash was torn into it. But the breastplate had served its purpose. Another killing blow had been reduced to a mere wound, and so the titan struck again, hammer and shield working together to drive Blood-Root back.
And all the while Caelera sang, her voice rising and falling in sharp, piercing notes heavier and weightier than any smith's hammer. This was song magic of the highest level, a gift bestowed upon the elves by the gods themselves. Where others needed entire choirs to achieve such powerful effects, she alone possessed sufficient strength to go into battle alongside one of Mother Tree's mightiest champions. The titan's hammer began to glow, and the runes etched upon its surface trembled. Then, with a sound like a mountain splitting, the hammer broke.
The massive body dropped to its knees and then flopped onto its side. Blood-Root raised the head high and roared, long and loud. He was answered by his fellow tree-folk, and the lines of Mother Tree's followers surged forward in response. But their advance was short lived. The giants refused to break, and they were supported by countless ranks of stalwart dwarves. And then the sky overhead darkened, the day momentarily giving way to deepest night. Above them, stars began to twinkle.
"No," Blood-Root rumbled. "Not stars... magic."
The dragon rose higher, revelling in the magic she was working. Looking at her was like looking at a starlit sky: scales of deep black, lit, here and there, by scales of vivid colour whose twinkling in the fires that littered the battlefield was all too reminiscent of stars. Her magic - an intricate matrix of runes and ordered magic - snapped into place, and stars began to fall from the sky. And where they fell, death followed. Mother Tree's followers were driven back as the dragon's magic devastated the battlefield.
"That dragon must fall," Blood-Root growled. Stars were falling upon him as well, but he was a tree-folk born in the First Age. He had known the gods themselves, and they had bestowed his name upon him. Blood-Root, the gods had called him, for his roots had always grown red instead of brown. His bark was thick and his wood was strong. Stars born of a dragon's magic could not kill him, not unless they were called into being by one of the great dragons of the First Age, but all those dragons were dead, and only their children and grandchildren remained. "I will need your song again."
"You will have it." Caelera sang again as a great spear of wood grew from Blood-Root's body and settled into his hand. Her song this time was not a break-song but a death-song, a killing-song, a slaying-song. It filled the air, cold and cruel and pitiless, and it settled upon the blood-red spear in Blood-Root's hand the same way that fog settled upon a still lake.
"She is far," Blood-Root said. "My aim will be clumsy at this range."
Caelera did not bother to reply. Instead, her song shifted. She wove a song of true-flight and true-striking upon the spear as well. Let Blood-Root throw the spear. Her song would ensure it hit its mark. Blood trickled from her nose and the corners of her mouth. Songs of this kind could not be sung freely, and the battle against Mother Tree's enemies had already raged for weeks. Rather than pause her singing to drink a potion, she instead cut her wrist and let sacred sap from Mother Tree flow into her veins from a gourd. Fire bloomed in her body and soul. There would be a steep price to pay, but she would gladly pay it once Mother Tree was victorious.
Blood-Root took a moment to measure the distance and gauge his aim, and then he took three huge steps and flung the spear. There was thunder as it flew, for he had thrown the spear with such force that the air split in its path. But in its wake, trailing like the tail of a comet, were Caelera's songs. The dragon saw the spear coming and tried to dodge - but the spear's path bent to match her. With dodging impossible, she tried to defend herself with magic, but Caelera's songs were not so easily defeated - nor was the strength of Blood-Root's throw to be underestimated.
Four barriers shattered like glass, their gleaming remnants scattered in the wind of the spear's passage, and then the dragon fell, pierced through by the spear. She fell from the summit of the sky, not a single sound leaving her lips as the death-song woven into the spear slew her before she could even truly register the pain of being struck. A roar of hate and fury filled the air shortly afterward. It came from another dragon, one drawn to the battle from the west. He was younger than the dragon they'd slain, younger and weaker and so very foolish.
"Starwind!" the dragon howled, only to be swarmed by the wyverns, drakes, and great birds that served Mother Tree. "No!"
The dragon's fall turned the tide of battle. Mother Tree's forces pressed onward. With the Fourth Awakening dragon dead, there was no one left who could break through the shield-songs woven by the choirs who marched into battle beside the nymphs and tree-folk. The giants and dwarves were pushed back, and Caelera dared to hope that they could win this battle swiftly and then turn northward to aid their allies who were still under siege. Alas, her hopes were in vain.
"Enough!"
The shout crackled across the battlefield. It carried none of the subtlety and beauty of elven song magic, but there was power behind it, as well as the wisdom of one who had learned the intricacies of song magic - and how to break it. The choirs of song-mages reeled back, blood spewing from their mouths and noses as the smoke drifting up from the battlefield toward the sky was pushed aside.
A dragon with scales of crimson and sapphire. Caelera's eyes narrowed in hate. Doomwing. Once, Mother Tree had loved him as a son. He had been the most favoured of all dragons, save perhaps Regal Flame. And yet he had turned on Mother Tree. No. It was worse. He was one of the leaders of the coalition against her.
Another spear began to grow in Blood-Root's hand.
"Have you enough strength for more songs?" Blood-Root growled.
Caelera wiped the blood from her face and readied another gourd. "I will find the strength."
But Doomwing was not Starwind. He did not seek to unleash a single devastating spell against them. Instead, he struck with runes and ordered magic. Blood-Root was forced back, and Caelera had no choice but to weave shield-songs to help deflect the barrage bearing down on them. At the same time, Doomwing was joined by lesser dragons who took advantage of the broken shield-song of the choirs to pour fire, lightning, and frost upon the battlefield.
"Blood-Root," Caelera cried. "We have to stop him!"
Blood-Root shook, and sap flew from the countless wounds that had been gouged upon his body despite their efforts. "Set aside your shield-song. I can weather the pain. I need death-song and songs of true-striking and true-flight. As we slew Starwind, so can we slay Doomwing!"
It was a gamble. Without focusing entirely on defence, Blood-Root would be grievously wounded. But if she could complete her song and if he could throw his spear... then perhaps they could still win.
"Very well. I will -"
Blood-Root jerked back as a torrent of lava rained down on them. It clung onto his upraised arm, and he gave a deep, ponderous groan, as more of it splash upon his chest and legs. The lava was voracious, eating away at his bark and wood, and the ground shook as the largest dragon still living landed before them. It was Ashheart.
"Go," Ashheart roared, his words addressed not to them but to Doomwing. "This battle is mine. You must deal with Mother Tree."
Blood-Root roared back. "Do you think we will simply let him go?"
"If you wish to strike him down, then you must first slay me." Ashheart spewed more lava, and Caelera hissed and climbed higher up Blood-Root's body to escape the tide of molten rock. "I am Ashheart! While I live, this battlefield belongs to me!"
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"Then you will die," Blood-Root replied. "As Starwind died."
"I saw her fall," Ashheart rumbled. "That spear you threw was deadly indeed, but the one you carry now has no songs of death upon it, nor shall I allow the elf upon you to sing any. And I am Ashheart. I have no need to burn you from afar or to fight from the skies. I will tear you limb from limb with tooth and claw."
"You will try," Blood-Root replied. "But no dragon has faced me and lived."
"Then I will be the first." Ashheart's smile was toothy. "And your body will join the ashes of all my other foes."
Ashheart's eyes blazed, and the baleful volcanic light that gleamed from within his body grew brighter until it was like staring into the molten heart of the world. The heat pouring off him had turned the landscape around them into a volcanic nightmare. Those elves unfortunate enough to be caught in it were incinerated instantly, and the tree-folk and nymphs who dared to approach were turned to ashes soon after. Only Blood-Root remained undaunted, and his strength served as a shield for Caelera as well. But she could sense her old friend's unease. Of all the dragons they could have encountered, perhaps only Regal Flame would have been worse.
The two titans stared at each other, each of them measuring the distance and imaging how the battle might go. And then they moved, the gap between them vanishing in an instant. Blows that would have cracked mountains were exchanged, and Caelera's voice rang out, songs of discord, blinding, paralysis, and weakening rising high over the magmatic rumble of Ashheart and the chthonic groan of Blood-Root. She would have preferred to sing mightier songs, but those were the only ones she could weave while the battle raged, for Ashheart was not so foolish as to focus only on Blood-Root. Instead, his attacks were also aimed to disrupt her magic, to force her to evade or flee when lava, teeth, or claws threatened to slay her.
Blood-Root's spear struck down, but it dug only shallowly into Ashheart's body before it broke. The tectonic dragon laughed, loud and pleased, and his tackle sent Blood-Root sprawling as the landscape melted and burned beneath them.
"A fine blow!" Ashheart roared. "Allow me to return it!"
He slammed into Blood-Root again, and the tree-folk's trunk threatened to split beneath the weight of the blow. Before Blood-Root could recover, Ashheart was attacking again with his teeth and claws. Bark flew, and chunks of wood as large as hills went flying, as the dragon ripped and tore. Blood-Root was not idle. He lashed out as well, tearing gouges in Ashheart's flanks and ripping great patches of scales from his body. Molten blood spewed from the wounds, but Ashsheart only laughed louder, driving his shoulder into Blood-Root and pressing him back and back, far away from the rest of the battle.
A cloud of ash began to form around them, a whirling, burning, searing hurricane that tore relentlessly at Blood-Root and swallowed whatever words Caelera tried to form. Her skin was burning - her hair had already burnt away - and she could barely see. Each breath was like inhaling cinders, and Blood-Root could only strike at Ashheart vainly, blows that would have felled lesser dragons simply clattering off the dragon's back.
"You must leave," Blood-Root said. He staggered back. A great eagle swooped down at his command. Simply entering the typhoon of ash threatened to slay it, but the bird pressed on regardless. It swept Caelera up in its claws. "You will die if you stay any longer. Return to Mother Tree. Seek me out once you are well."
"Blood-Root -" Caelera tried to say more, but the ash stuck in her mouth and blocked her throat. "Blood-"
The heat that had been building inside Ashheart throughout the fight reached a crescendo. The great dragon roared and flared his wings. Runes crackled into existence, and the ground split and tore as the molten blood of the world spewed upward.
"Volcanic Cataclysm!"
There was another flash of light, and then a cloud of lava and ash exploded outward. Caelera screamed, and the great eagle gave a terrified squawk of alarm as the explosion overtook them.
Caelera was amazed to wake up. Perhaps the great eagle had spent the last of its power to protect her, or perhaps the sap of Mother Tree had granted her some unknown blessing. Or perhaps she had simply been lucky.
She swallowed thickly and then rolled onto her side to cough and spit up the ash that filled her mouth and threatened to clog her throat. Her storage pouch was still intact - if only just - and she drew forth whatever healing and restorative items she still possessed. There were few. She had used almost all of them during the battle. But there were enough left to heal the worst of her wounds.
When she was done, she could walk again, albeit it slowly. Burns covered much of her body, and all of her hair was gone, burnt away by the explosion. Her clothes - master works of elf tailoring with every possible protective enchantment woven into them - had barely survived, but they were in tatters. Without them, though, she likely would have perished. Her sight, normally so keen that only a dragon's could have rivalled it, must have been deceiving her, for there was nothing around her except a vast, seemingly endless expanse of slowly cooling molten rock.
There was no sign of Blood-Root, no sign of the battle, only a volcanic nightmare and a sky filled with ashes and... no. Her eyes widened. For as long as she could remember, there had always been a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that belonged to the oldest of all dryads, to Mother Tree. Now, it was gone.
But... that was impossible.
That couldn't be.
She was bound to Mother Tree. The only way she could have been cut off was if... if Mother Tree had fallen.
Staggering, she forced herself to move in what she thought might be the direction of Mother Tree. She had to be mistaken. Perhaps Mother Tree had been wounded. That was certainly possible, perhaps even likely, given the forces they faced, but Mother Tree must simply be recuperating. Her voice might have fallen silent because she needed to focus on healing her wounds. She would surely be fine once the last of the traitors were dealt with. She couldn't have been defeated.
As she walked, feet burning from the heat that still radiated from the scorched earth, she stumbled to a stop and then dropped to her knees. There, before her, was the broken, burnt-out body of her friend. Blood-Root had fallen.
She rushed to his side, ignoring the sharp, glass-like protrusions that littered the ground and spoke of the heat of the blow that must have felled him. Fire smouldered upon the ruins of his body, and she scrambled up to where his chest had been. Tree-folk were not like elves. It did not matter if their limbs were burnt or broken. As long as enough of their heart-wood remained, they could be healed. She had recovered a bit of her magic. She was no tree-shepherd, but she knew enough of the healing arts to help. Blood-Root was strong. If he could just hold on, then they could call for aid. There had to be nymphs nearby or tree-shepherds, or...
She stared into the hollow that had been his chest. His heart-wood had been torn from his body. Only... only the barest sliver remained, not nearly enough to allow healing.
"You survived..." the voice was faint, a mere whisper compared to the thunder that normally accompanied his words. That he could speak at all was almost a miracle, given how little of his heart-wood remained. "Caelera..."
"Blood-Root." She half-fell, half-crawled to where the sliver of heart-wood, shorter than she was and far thinner, remained. "I... I can get help."
"We both know that I am beyond saving. I only lingered because I wished to see you one last time." The voice came from the wood around them, but it grew fainter with each word. "I lost... and Mother Tree has fallen."
"No!" Caelera cried. "That cannot be! Mother Tree -"
"You know I speak the truth." Blood-Root's body trembled. The fire eating away at his limbs grew stronger as his dwindling power faded further. "The world belongs to the dragons now, my friend. I know not what they intend for those who stood with Mother Tree. I would help you if I could... but there is only one thing I can do for you now."
"But..."
"Take my heart-wood, what little of it is left," Blood-Root said. "There is power in it still, power that will remain even after my death. What you do with it is up to you. But... it is the last gift I can give you, the only gift I can give you."
Caelera trembled. "I..." She wiped tears from her cheeks. "I will avenge you and Mother Tree."
"No." Blood-Root's voice was barely audible. "If you try, you will simply be going to your death, and you must live, my friend. You must live."
"I don't know what to do... if I can't avenge you... then what am I supposed to do?"
"Mother Tree dreamed of a world united... perhaps... that dreams is beyond her reach now. But you still live. Perhaps it is not yet beyond yours."
Caelera nodded slowly. "I... I will try."
"Good." Blood-Root's broken body shuddered and then grew still, and the faint green glow emanating from the heart-wood vanished. "Farewell, my friend."
Caelera would have stayed there for hours if not for the fires closing in. Instead, she forced herself to take up the shard of heart-wood. It was harder than any metal, and there was indeed power in it that had not vanished with her friend's death. It was... it was almost like a spear. She hurried out of her friend's body and began to walk. Where, she did not know, but she could not afford to linger. Whether the dragons would seek to wipe out all of Mother Tree's followers, she could not know, but she did not wish to find out if that was the choice they made.
And so Caelera wandered... and her wandering would take her far away from the lands that had once belonged to Mother Tree. And when the oceans rose and sought to swallow the world, she would keep wandering. At last, at the beginning of the Fourth Age, as the first strands of white appeared in her hair and the seas receded, she would meet someone who made her believe that Mother Tree's dream might still be possible.
He had been human... once. Now, he was a vampire, but unlike his progenitor or the four others that his progenitor had turned, he dreamed of a better world, a world where vampires and humans could live alongside one another, and beyond that a world where all people could live alongside each other, a world not so different from the one Mother Tree had envisioned. But she knew better than anyone that the creation of such a world would require more than high ideals or sweet words. It would require weapons.
Her old friend had been named Blood-Root, and he had fought for the world Mother Tree had envisioned.
It would be fitting then if a spear made of his heart-wood continued the battle.
But rather than Blood-Root, let it bear another name: Blood-Thorn.
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