Chương 47: Chapter 31: The Offer - Part I

Sometime during the night, exhaustion finally claims me. The last thing I remember is sitting beneath the Silverwood with Vael's staff resting across my knees and the echoes of ancient groves lingering within my thoughts. The next thing I know, sunlight filters through silver leaves overhead while a cool breeze brushes across my face. Apparently, I fell asleep against the Silverwood itself. The tree seems entirely unconcerned by the arrangement.

For a few moments after waking, I remain where I am, staring upward through the gaps between silver leaves overhead. Sunlight filters through the branches in shifting patterns while a cool breeze carries the scent of damp earth and growing things across the grove. Somewhere nearby, birds have already begun arguing over matters known only to themselves. The vision lingers. Not with the sharp clarity of a fresh memory, but with the quiet persistence of something too significant to simply fade away.

Heartwoods stretching beyond the horizon. Generations of Keepers carrying staffs beneath their branches. Vael standing among them. I had spent so long viewing the grove through the lens of survival that I had never truly considered what came after. Elarion had burned. The Silverwood sapling had survived. We planted it here because roots needed soil to grow. Everything that followed had grown from necessity. Now, I find myself wondering what the grove might become.

The thought follows me as I rise and begin my morning walk. The district is already awake. Several residents are tending garden plots while others move between homes carrying tools, baskets or supplies needed for the day ahead. The eastern district still bears little resemblance to the neglected quarter it once was. The roads remain modest. The homes remain practical. Yet life flourishes here now in a way that feels difficult to ignore. My steps eventually bring me back toward the center of the grove.

The Silverwood stands exactly where it always has. The tree is larger than it has any right to be. When I first carried the sapling from Elarion, it had barely sprouted. Now its silver canopy dominates the center of the district while the Heartwoods surrounding it continue spreading their own branches outward. Together, they create the illusion of immense age. A stranger arriving in the grove for the first time might easily believe these trees had stood here for centuries. The truth is considerably stranger.

The Silverwood itself is an ancient species. The Heartwoods even older. Yet these particular trees are young. They simply grow with a vitality that belongs to another age. Beneath their canopy, life continues as normal. Several beds rest beneath the shelter of the trees. The grove had created the first for Havlar and then me. Since then, additional beds had appeared one by one as the grove welcomed new residents beneath its branches.

At some point over the past several days, the arrangement had become so natural that I scarcely noticed it happening. Ciara, Aibell, Eammon, Aine and Merrow have all abandoned their previous accommodations entirely. The homes and rooms they once occupied elsewhere in the district now sit largely unused while they sleep beneath the canopy alongside everyone else. This morning, most of the beds are empty. Aine remains stubbornly asleep despite the increasingly obvious fact that morning has arrived.

Eammon appears determined to remedy this situation.

"You're supposed to be awake." His sister ignores him completely, "You've been asleep forever." Still nothing. Eammon glances around before noticing me, "Kaelen.

"Good morning." He points toward Aine, "She's malfunctioning." I study the sleeping child, "That appears serious."

"It is." Aine responds by pulling her blanket higher. Eammon looks deeply offended. The exchange earns a quiet laugh from Merrow, who is seated nearby sorting medicinal herbs into neat bundles.

"The patient is recovering normally," she informs him.

"I don't think she's even trying."

"A fortunate side effect of being four." The healer looks up as I approach. For a moment, her expression sharpens.

"You look rested."

"Is that unusual?"

"Considering recent events? Yes." Fair. The nightmares had become common enough that a full night's sleep qualifies as noteworthy. Merrow returns her attention to the herbs.

"Anyways, it is good." Nearby, Aibell is preparing breakfast over the cooking fire while Merrow sorts herbs beside her. Their conversation drifts softly through the morning air, occasionally interrupted by Aibell reaching for another ingredient or Merrow shaking her head at something that was presumably said. Not far away, Ciara sits beneath the canopy with Aine curled against her side while Eammon occupies himself investigating something of great importance hidden somewhere in the grass.

I wisely continue walking before becoming involved. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The vision from the previous night remains with me. The grove is no longer a collection of survivors trying to rebuild their lives. It has become something larger, a community and a responsibility. Perhaps that is what Vael had been trying to teach me all along. Not only how to preserve what remained but also how to build what comes next.

The thought stays with me as I leave the district and make my way toward the city proper. The streets grow busier with every step. Merchants begin opening storefronts while workers prepare for another day. Life moves with the familiar rhythm of a city beginning its morning. My destination remains uncertain. At least until I spot a familiar figure near the eastern gate. Garrick stands beside the wall speaking with one of the guards.

A travel pack rests against his shoulder while his sword hangs comfortably at his side. Whatever business occupies his day appears likely to take him beyond the city. The timing feels almost suspiciously convenient. When the conversation with the guard ends, Garrick notices me approaching.

"Kaelen."

"Garrick." His gaze drifts briefly toward the city behind me, "You look like you're about to ask for something." I stop several paces away, "That's a remarkably specific greeting."

"It comes from experience." Unfortunately, I cannot argue with that. Garrick folds his arms.

"What do you need?" I consider the question. Then decide honesty is probably the simplest approach, "Some company." That appears to catch him off guard, "Company?"

"Just for a while." The guard captain studies me for several moments. Whatever he sees seems sufficient because eventually, he nods, "I suppose I can spare some time." The road beyond Fallowspire remains quiet at this hour. Farmers are already at work in the surrounding fields while the occasional wagon travels toward the city gates carrying produce, lumber or supplies destined for the markets.

Garrick and I leave the main road after a time, following a narrower trail that winds through gently rolling grasslands overlooking the eastern forests. Neither of us feels any particular urgency to fill the silence. Years ago, I might have found the quiet, uncomfortable. Not anymore. Some people require conversation to enjoy another person's company. Garrick has always been content with simply sharing the road. Eventually, he glances sideways.

"How far are we walking?"

"I haven't decided."

"That's reassuring."

"I think so as well." The corner of his mouth twitches briefly before the expression disappears. For a while, we continue in silence. The city gradually shrinks behind us. When I finally speak again, it is not about the weather, the road or any other convenient distraction.

"I accepted a guild contract yesterday." That earns his attention immediately, "Let me guess. The Tuskers?" I nod.

"Havlar mentioned hearing about problems in the orchards," he says.

"The contract was supposed to be about Briarthorn Tuskers."

"Supposed to be?" I spend the next several minutes recounting the events of the previous day. The damaged orchards. The separated herd. The piglets. The larger herd hidden deeper within the forest. Garrick listens without interruption. When I reach the Duskrenders, however, his expression changes.

"Six of them?"

"Six."

"Hunting together?"

"Apparently." The Guard Captain frowns.

"I've never heard of Duskrenders doing that."

"Neither had Darran." That answer seems to concern him more than the attack itself. I continue to the fight; the corruption and finally the beaststones. The further the story progresses, the more thoughtful Garrick becomes. By the time I finish describing the six corrupted beaststones resting inside the guild lockbox, we have reached the crest of a low hill overlooking the surrounding countryside. Garrick stops walking.

"So let me make sure I understand this correctly." His tone suggests he already understands perfectly well, "Go ahead."

"The beasts damaging the orchards weren't the problem."

"No."

"The predators hunting them were corrupted."

"Yes."

"All six carried corrupted beaststones."

"Yes."

"And nobody knows why." I nod, "That about sums it up." Garrick exhales slowly. The wind stirs through the grass around us. In the distance, I can just make out the forests where the Tuskers had disappeared less than a day earlier.

"The water beneath the city." The statement is so abrupt that it takes me a moment to follow his train of thought, "What about it?"

"The corruption started there first." I study him, "You're wondering whether it's connected."

"I'm wondering whether all of this is connected." Fair. The same question has occupied much of my own attention since returning from the orchards.

"The corruption beneath the city affected water, the Duskrenders were affected, the beaststones were affected." Neither of us particularly likes where that line of reasoning leads. For several moments, Garrick says nothing. Then he folds his arms.

"What did Darran think?"

"He was concerned."

"That bad?"

"He planned to inform the council immediately." That finally earns a grim look. The Guard Captain knows Darran well enough to understand what that means. The guildmaster is not prone to alarm. If he considered the matter urgent enough to bring directly before the council, then he views it as a threat worth taking seriously.

"The city can handle one corrupted river," Garrick says quietly.

"A handful of beasts, too." I remain silent. He looks toward the distant forests.

"But if something is causing this..." He doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to. The implication is obvious. Corruption that spreads beyond isolated incidents eventually stops being an incident altogether. It leaves an uncomfortable weight between us. A flock of birds passes overhead. Somewhere below, a farmer shouts at an escaped goat. The ordinary sounds feel strangely reassuring. The world continues moving forward regardless of whatever dangers may be gathering beyond sight.

Eventually, Garrick resumes walking.

"So." I glance toward him, "So?"

"You didn't drag me halfway across the countryside merely to discuss guild reports." A fair observation. I smile despite myself, "No."

"I didn't think so." His gaze remains fixed on the path ahead, "Whatever this is, you've been thinking about it for a while." The vision beneath the Silverwood returns unbidden. I find myself tightening my grip slightly upon the staff resting against my shoulder, "You're right and wrong." Garrick nods once, "Then I suppose you should tell me what you've actually brought me out here to discuss." The trail continues ahead of us, winding toward a stand of trees overlooking the valley below.

For a few moments, I watch the path in silence. Gathering my thoughts. Trying to find the right place to begin. Because the conversation I came here to have has very little to do with guild contracts.