Chương 32: Chapter Thirty-Two: The Benefactor

Hollis could tell that the tree was manipulating the sunlight. Not only was much of the garden cast in suspicious shadows that could not be the product of natural forces, but the golden glow that made it through the limbs of the Great Bee Gum didn't shoot down in straight rays. Instead, it seemed to fall like water, straight down through the cracks in the canopy, in organic, geometric patterns. They were streams of light, globs of it, that flowed out and away from the tree, not sharing their light very far.

As he watched, he saw the tree limbs above blowing in the wind, seeming to weave the light and send it cascading down to this plant or that, as if the great tree were doling out a blessing upon its garden. In his time in Periapt, Hollis had seen many things he would call otherworldly, but none matched this. Not yet. There was a part of his mind that wished he had found this area while playing the game, if it was there at all, so that he could explore it with a buffer between himself and the great tree.

He felt quite insignificant, and while the tree had been friendly so far, a fear rose up in him of how easily he could be dispatched. Deadly aromas and deadlier stingers could waft through the air at a moment's notice. He had never been afraid of bees before, but then, he had never seen this many at once. Perhaps that fear grew more pronounced when he glanced to the far left of the tree and saw the remains of an iron rod fence that encircled a graveyard, long overgrown and glowing in a purple haze.

This is the final resting place for the tall gardener's family, the Great Bee Gum said, matter-of-factly.

"Who was the tall gardener?" Hollis asked, his curiosity just strong enough to overcome the lump in his throat. The tree took a moment to answer. Was it thinking, or having trouble remembering, or did it simply have no need to hurry at all? The gardener who crafted me, the tree said. The light around the base of the great tree intensified, drawing attention to what was once a handmade collection of beehives formed from logs.

It had swelled to the size of a house now, but the original craftsmanship was still visible. He used to live in that house over there, the tree said. Before the storm came and stomped it down. And before he fled. When there were more humans about, and many houses and gardens and farms. It has been a long while. The tall gardener was obviously a man who had lived in the mansion out front, who had walked under that giant chandelier hundreds of years ago.

Hollis thought about how he might transition to the interrogation he so desired. Was small talk necessary with a tree?

"You're talking about the cataclysm, or apocalypse, whatever it was, that happened three hundred years ago. Is that when the tall gardener fled?" he asked. The tree thought for a moment, and Hollis heard a creaking sound as the wind blew one of its trunks from side to side, which he assumed was tantamount to the great creature tilting its head as it remembered. The world ended, the tree said. The tall gardener spoke of its happening at length, though he expected the winged woman to arrive and prevent it.

One of the tree's branches moved. Whether it was by the power of the wind or some other means, Hollis didn't know, but the branch pointed back down the path toward the statue of Olivia Gordon. Did she come? Did the winged woman arrive and save the world? the tree asked. I was hoping to meet her. The tall gardener would read me her stories, about how she fought the mountain with the crystal heart, and held back the ocean when it came to claim the land. He told me so many stories.

Even back when I was young and I could not understand them, I still remembered. Trees do not always understand, but we do always remember. Humans do not always understand, and they do not always remember. There seemed to be one story about Olivia Gordon for every single NPC in the game. Some told silly fairy-tale-type stories, fables, while others regaled the player with epics about how the original Kazier had somehow defied incredible odds and saved the world time after time.

"I'm guessing she didn't show up," Hollis said. How much did the tree know? Did it know what the Cat's Eye was? Did it know about the Kaziers?

"I'm from the same world that she was," he said.

"I don't know if she was even real." The wind shifted again, carrying the tree's voice with it. The tall gardener believed she was, it said. He would sit and collect honey from my trunks while he spoke of her. His mother had told him stories, and her mother before her. He told me that he wished I would become a great tree one day, and that we could meet again as friends. I do await his return.

It was hard for Hollis to imagine a person being equal to a magical tree, but then he remembered that in Periapt such things were quite possible, if the legends were true.

"His return?" Hollis asked.

"Wouldn't he be dead by now?" Well, I imagine he would, the tree said. Humans do not live very long, but they are quite clever. After all, why would he have hoped to speak with me once I grew into a great tree if such a thing were not possible? I still wait to see. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. It was hard to argue with that logic.

"Were you here alone for three hundred years?" Hollis asked. For as big a disaster as the abandonment of the continent must have been, there was very little reporting on what actually happened, and more importantly, what happened to all the people who didn't make it to the outer islands. Yes. This part of the world has become very lonely, it said.

"Do you know what happened?" Hollis asked. The world ended, the tree said, as if it was the most obvious answer. He tried to clarify this a bit more, but the tree didn't seem to know anything more. If he understood correctly, the great tree was not exactly intelligent three hundred years ago, even if it could remember those years. So he decided to ask about something much more recent.

"Are you aware of the fog that comes in the night and devours everything it touches?" he asked. My bees fear it, the tree said. They do not understand it. They no longer visit the flowers in the fog's path. Such a shame.

"Do you know what caused it?" Hollis asked, feeling like he was moving his way down a dialogue tree in the old game. I do not, the tree said. There was never a fog before, as far back as I can remember.

"I've been investigating it," Hollis said, "trying to figure out how it can be undone. I think it has something to do with the old lighthouse. Do you know anything about that? It used to be really bright. I imagine you could probably—" He stopped for a moment as he considered whether the tree saw light, or felt light, or maybe consumed it the way a person breathes in air.

"You could probably sense the light from it. It would shine all night long." Oh, yes. I remember, the tree said. Light not from fire, but from life itself. I grew strong under it for hundreds of years. If not for its nourishing glow, I imagine I never would have become a great tree, but there is no way to know.

"I think that the light kept the fog away," Hollis said.

"The timeline doesn't work perfectly, because the lighthouse stopped working over a decade ago and the fog didn't show up until years later, but I still think there's a connection." He pulled out a small pouch containing campfire moss.

"I found this moss in a forest to the north. It has a really bright orange glow, and nothing in that forest was touched by the fog," he said.

"Is it possible that the lighthouse was somehow doing the same thing, but on a larger scale?" The Great Bee Gum waited for a moment before answering. I do not sense any light coming from the north. May I see it? From the tree's perspective, the burning forest lay behind several hills. Hollis was truly perplexed at how he was going to somehow let the tree perceive it, so he opened up the pouch and took out some of the dried moss.

He thought about asking what the tree wanted him to do with it, but then he realized he could show the tree what the campfire moss did. He took a few dried flakes on the end of his finger and gave them Breath, and they lit up in a brilliant flame, which Willo immediately imitated, engulfing his glowing tail in orange fire. Unfortunately, this managed to distract the tree. I remember the glowbugs, the tree said. They glowed so bright they nourished my leaves.

They were brighter than the stars, and all my plants grew strong under them. Hollis had nearly forgotten. The tree would have remembered back when the glowbugs filled the sky, dancing in the light of the lighthouse. I know this light, the bee gum said. I have felt it before, long, long ago, when I was young. I stood for a hundred years before I was cut and brought to this garden. That light is the gift of the dragon that chases the sun. The dragon gave many gifts to the plants of the earth, but it is gone now...

The moss... I shall grow it in my garden, and then one day I might barter to share in that gift. Please find my old friend at the back of the plot there. He has not lived as long as I. He will be a suitable host, I am certain. The tree didn't point this time, but Hollis eventually figured out what it wanted. There was a large broken gazebo at the back of the clearing that had collapsed, possibly centuries beforehand. Still, the wood seemed alive.

It had ingrained itself in the ground, and perhaps connected to the root network the bee gum controlled. Hollis took out a few shavings of the campfire moss and put them on one of the broken gazebo's columns. He expected to need to give the moss Breath, but that wasn't the case. The Great Bee Gum seemed plenty capable. Wind blew from behind him, and the moss came to life and began to grow, from a few flakes to a small patch. Yes. I will have to study this, the Great Bee Gum Tree said.

Hollis was fascinated, but he couldn't lose focus.

"I'm going to the lighthouse," he said, as he walked back toward the large tree.

"I'm going to find out what happened to the light, and if that's what caused the fog. I'm going to relight it." That would be quite the journey, the tree said. The lighthouse is far away, and there are many dangers. The farmer boy who visited me would tell me of the monsters in the woods. Do you really wish to venture forth?

"That's what I came here for," Hollis said.

"I'll do whatever I need to." The tree, somehow, seemed pleased. I would like very much for my scion to be planted at the lighthouse, the bee gum said, and along the coast, so that I can feel the waves. Perhaps, if you ever make it north to the great Iron Mountain where the spider queen is said to rule the darkness, I might ask that you plant my scion there too, just as you have in the canyon.

And if you could plant it in the gardens just to the west, inside the canyon where my bees go to find pollen, that would be most suitable. Perhaps you would be willing to barter. I have much to give.

"What are you offering?" Hollis asked. The Great Bee Gum got excited. Its voice, which wasn't really a voice, picked up and bombarded Hollis. Will you journey to the far reaches of the world and spread my scion, so that I may see further? Will you find the other great trees, so that I may know my own kind after lifetimes alone? Will you protect the bees and flowers under your domain and under mine? If you will, then, Man Below, I will offer my aid in whatever way I am able.

As you spread my scion, I will imbue you with the gifts of my grand experiments, of poisons, of potions, of wind, and of light. I will permit you to use my scion as your very own weapon, and I will journey with you in that way as you set about your adventure to the Great Pass. Do you agree to my proposal? The wind picked up, bending the tree's branches like the tentacles of a sea monster. Hollis' skin was taut with goosebumps as he stared up at the land-bound behemoth.

He had not known that the tree would attempt to enlist him in a far-ranging journey, but as he was already on such a journey, the choice was easy. He suspected that spreading the Great Bee Gum's scion would not be the most difficult thing he would have to do for power in this world.

"I do," Hollis said. He couldn't have said no if he wanted to. Any help he could get would be welcome. Besides. He didn't exactly have a counter-proposal in mind. Then go, grow my branches, bury my roots. Find the old places and the new, and spread myself around this world. I seek adventure. It was official. Even Hollis' inspector confirmed it. You've successfully bartered with the Great Bee Gum.

As you spread its clones around the abandoned continent, it will reward you with grafted abilities from its vast stores of power.