The Troll King (The Bowl of Souls Book 9) (22 page)

Her magic had connected to the spirit of this Jharro tree and it was trying to show her the enormity of its history. Tarah had fractions of a second before the sheer weight of it destroyed her. She did the only thing she could. She opened herself up to it.

Centuries of information poured through her mind so fast that she couldn’t retain it all. She could only catch glimpses. Tarah saw the tree from its start as a seedling. It was planted by a man with a beard and kind eyes. Then it was a sapling and dark-skinned elves played around it. It became much larger and was cared for by elves. They moved in and out of its flesh and made small requests of it. Eventually it was fully grown. Its roots intertwined with the others, and it was mature enough to take part of the grove’s burden.

The tree’s voice then rose to join the others. The Jharro trees generated a chorus of magical energy, something Tarah couldn’t quite comprehend. But the song was beautiful and it shone forth like a beacon of sound and light and life that formed a barrier, keeping out something dark and horrible; a sickness of some kind that would overcome the known lands.

The trees remained so focused on their task that they were completely defenseless. They depended on the elves that cared for them and now the humans that helped the elves. There had been many wars over the years. Some of the trees had been destroyed and others had lost their voice. Currently, the song of the trees was barely strong enough to keep the barrier in place. There was hope, though, because a new orchard of saplings were growing to take their place.

The weight of the tree’s memories faded until Tarah’s thoughts once again floated in a soft pink haze. Then the tree spoke to her. It didn’t use words, but spoke more in emotion. It asked her a question. Would she join the ranks of the tree’s caretakers? Would she protect the tree so that it could continue to protect the world?

The question hung in Tarah’s mind, but she didn’t answer right away. Not because it was a difficult decision. Now that she understood the importance of the trees, there was no greater calling that she could think of. The reason she hesitated was because she had other tasks to complete. And what of Djeri? Would she have to stay in Malaroo if she said yes?

Tarah asked the tree these questions, but received no reply. The tree couldn’t comprehend such small and petty thoughts. Its gaze was eternal. It simply repeated the question and Tarah said,
Yes
.

There was a warm feeling of acceptance from the tree and its thoughts began to fade from Tarah’s mind. Suddenly there was a great lurch. The pink blinked away to black.

Tarah cried out in pain as her mind was forcibly torn from the tree. Her arm was wrenched to the side. Tarah opened her eyes and looked into a face that was all at once dark and beautiful and angry. It was a female elf. The lower half of her body was submerged in the wood of the tree and she had Tarah’s wrist clenched in one powerful hand.

“Intruder,” the dark-skinned elf said in an oddly accented voice. “Rapist!”

“R-rape?” Tarah was still sitting cross-legged on the root and tried to pull her hand out of the elf’s grip, but didn’t have the leverage. “I did nothing like that.”

“You brought evil into this grove.” The elf snarled and clicked a few words that Tarah didn’t understand and added, “You used filthy magic to touch the soul of my tree!”

“I didn’t use my magic on purpose,” Tarah replied. “It just happened.”

The elf slowly rose out of the wood until she was standing on top of the root, her body encased in living Jharro armor. She pulled Tarah to her knees and raised her other arm, pointing a staff at Tarah’s face. The end of the staff narrowed, forming a spear-like tip. “The penalty for such a violation is death!”

“Nope,” Tarah said. She twisted her body, yanking the elf forward. The elf’s weapon gouged her armor, but Tarah’s left fist caught the elf woman square in the nose.

The elf’s head snapped back. She gasped in surprise. Tarah tore her hand out of the elf’s grip and ran. She knew an escape was unlikely. The elf knew the grove and Tarah had seen that she could control the roots at will. Her only hope was that Esmine was still trying to protect her.

Tarah put all she had into the run, hoping that her longer legs would give her an advantage but she heard the elf woman click angrily close behind her. Blast, she was fast. Then Tarah felt the root pathway shift under her feet. Grimacing, she jumped off of the root, throwing herself over a wide gap towards the next closest root. Her arms were outstretched as she struck the root with her chest. She clutched at the smooth surface, hoping not to slide off.

Her hand sank into the wood and she realized that this root was from a different tree.

“No!” she cried, but it was too late. Everything fell away once more. She was floating in a pink haze, the weight of thousands of years of memories weighing on her. She had no choice but to open herself up to it once again, but this tree was not as gentle as the first.

The memories flooded through her in a torrent and Tarah feared that she might lose herself. This tree was older. It had been there in the beginning of the grove, before the trees had a purpose. Then the sickness had ravaged the world. The messenger had come and had shown the trees how to sing.

This tree had seen war and been damaged by it. This tree had lost many of its brethren. It was tired. Yet still it sang on, encouraged by the growth of new saplings. Sometime soon it would be able to rest.

The memories stopped, leaving Tarah’s mind battered and weak. Then it asked her the same question as the previous tree, though it asked in a slightly bored fashion. Would she, the human child, protect it from the ravages of mortal men and beasts so that it could continue its endless duty to protect the world?

Uh, I already said yes to the other tree
, Tarah replied.

It asked again. In these, the final days of its weary existence, would she use her puny powers to keep its roots free from the fires and axes of mortal kind?

Tarah didn’t understand the etiquette with making promises of this sort. She also didn’t particularly like this one’s attitude, but she supposed that after a life that long it deserved some concessions.
Yes
.

The tree accepted her promise and Tarah felt a warmth settle over her. Then, once again, she was torn free of her connection from the tree. This time it was caused by the foot of the furious elf woman as she kicked Tarah in the face, knocking her free from the root she was so desperately holding onto.

Tarah fell, disoriented as she rebounded off of two more roots before landing square on her back. The impact of the landing knocked the wind out of her. Several arrows, jarred loose from her quiver along the way, clattered around her.

She was lying on a long, but narrow pathway between two massive roots. The elf hadn’t waited. She was already jumping down after her.

Tarah rolled to her knees and tried to stand, but the combination of lack of air and mental fatigue slowed her down. The elf woman landed in front of her and sent a stiff kick into Tarah’s chest, launching her back to the ground.

“You defile another tree?” snarled the elf, looking all the more furious because of the blood that dripped from her nose. She drew back her staff preparing to launch it like a spear.

Tarah gasped, and raised her arms defensively, fairly sure that her armor wouldn’t stop a direct strike from that close. “No defiling! I just promised the tree I would-!”

The elf threw.

Tarah closed her eyes. She heard the meaty thud as the spear struck, but felt no pain. A moment went by and she opened one eye to see that a section of the root next to her had transformed, extending to form a protective shield over her body. The pointed tip of the Jharro weapon had pierced the wood, but had been stopped an inch from her chest.

The elf peered around the edge of the shield. “What is this? You corrupt even one of the eldest?”

Tarah realized that the root had belonged to the tree she had just finished talking to. “No!” she said, scrambling backwards. She climbed to her feet. “He did that on his own. I was trying to tell you before you just tried to kill me. I promised this cranky old tree I would protect him. I guess he was protecting me back.”

The elf wrenched her spear out of the wood. She shifted her grip to the bottom of the weapon and the length of the shaft thinned, forming a narrow blade. Her grip was strange, but she wielded it like a longsword. “You have no right.”

“
Stop, Tolynn
!”

The voice was male and carried a note of command so powerful that Tarah flinched. The elf woman bared her teeth and let out a series of clicks and whistles that Tarah did not understand, but she did not continue her attack. The wall of roots that surrounded them shifted, lifting up and forming a tunnel-like path. Tarah looked inside and saw a man approaching.

He didn’t look all that impressive. He had short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard and wore a set of worn traveler’s clothes. In his hands he carried Esmine’s staff.

Walking behind him was a beast that made Tarah’s jaw drop. It looked like an enormous house cat the size of a horse. It had tan and orange stripes in its fur and large blue eyes. As it came a bit closer it yawned, then laid down. It raised one of its rear legs to lick itself and Tarah took a step backwards. This was no house cat. It had six legs and curving up behind it was the long chitinous tail of a scorpion.

“Why do you stop me, John?” asked the elf woman. She was still holding that sword like she wanted to cut Tarah in two.

“Because it’s unseemly. That’s why,” he said with a fatherly tone. The man planted Esmine’s staff in front of him and leaned forward. “Murdering some innocent child just because she stumbled into your back yard? Tsk-tsk. Tolynn, that’s beneath you.”

The commotion had not gone unnoticed. Tarah saw dozens of the ancient dark-skinned elves looking down at them from roots all around. A few of them were watching the scene with humorous expressions, but most of them looked almost as dour as Tolynn.

“Innocent?” Tolynn replied. She let go of the sword handle with one hand to point at Tarah. “She brings a great evil into this place! Then she defiles the trees! A-and she struck me in the nose.”

“I didn’t defile anything,” Tarah protested, tearing her gaze away from the cat-thing so that she could face the elf. “Or at least, if I did, I didn’t know anything was being defiled. I was innocent, like he said. As for striking you in the face . . . well, you were gonna kill me. Your face kinda deserved it.”

“No innocent carries an evil like that!” Tolynn argued. “I can feel it. It makes my skin itch!”

“Esmine ain’t evil. Or at least, I don’t think so,” Tarah said. “She’s just a bit wild.”

She wondered why the rogue horse was being so quiet. There was no papa or Grampa Rolf standing around making snarky remarks. Tarah hadn’t seen so much as a hint of illusion from Esmine in a while.

“Perhaps some introductions would help smooth things over,” the man said. “Tarah Woodblade.” He approached her and lifted the staff in his hands. “This is the second time I’ve had to retrieve your staff for you. You should be more careful.”

Tarah’s eyes widened. “You’re the Prophet.”

Djeri had told her how the Prophet had retrieved her staff from the river the day she met Esmine. He didn’t look anything like the legendary figure she had expected. He was just so . . . plain.

“I am. But you can call me John,” he said. He gestured at the elf woman. “Tarah, this is Tolynn Yni. She has cared for the grove for centuries and is currently the elves main contact with the Roo-Tan.”

Tarah groaned inwardly. Of course she would have had to offend someone important. “I am honored.”

“Honored?” Tolynn turned her glare on the Prophet. “John, when did you decide to start changing elven law? This woman should be slain immediately.”

He received her wrath with bemusement. “Tolynn, your bloodthirst surprises me. Why are you so eager to take a life without understanding it first?”

“I have no need to understand someone who would carry such evil with her!” Tolynn insisted.

The Prophet sighed. “I am sorry, Tarah. Perhaps it is time to give that evil up.”

“Why do you keep insisting that Esmine is evil?” Tarah said in exasperation. “Sure, she’s wild and today she was acting very unlike herself but, I have seen the core of her and she has a pure soul!”

John held up a consoling hand. “She’s not talking about the rogue horse, Tarah. I believe the item in question is resting somewhere else on your person.” He cocked his head. “Perhaps in your quiver?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tarah said, pulling her bow and quiver over her head. “There’s just arrows in here. One of them might be a gorc arrow, but . . .” She swallowed at the glint of amber within. “What is that? . . . I had completely forgotten it was there.”

She reached in and grasped the hilt of the dark dagger inside. She felt an immediate wave of revulsion upon touching it and dropped the quiver, but the dagger stayed clenched in her hand. It was made of black iron and was cunningly made with amber jewels embedded in the hilt. The blade was a wicked thing, wide and twisted in a corkscrew pattern. A series of strange runes wound their way up the blade. It was stained a rusty red.

Tolynn and the surrounding elves recoiled at the sight of it. “See!” said Tolynn. “This woman brought that thing here to feed off of the life of the grove!”

“I didn’t even know I had it,” Tarah said. She tried to let go, but her fingers resisted her command. She had an urge to turn and stab it into the nearest Jharro root. She saw several elves fit arrows to Jharro bows and looked to the Prophet helplessly. “Don’t just stand there looking. Take it!”

“You wish to turn that dagger over to me?” John asked.

“Yes! Yes! Of course. Before they shoot me!” she gasped.

He raised a hand and the elves stayed their arrows. “What would you have me do with this thing?”

“Hell, I don’t know! Break it in half? Throw it into the sun? Whatever the Prophet does with something like this.” She lifted it towards him, but was unable to turn her wrist to hand it to him properly. “Just take it!”

He approached her, his voice calm. “Just to be clear, are you asking me to destroy it?”

“What did it sound like I said? Keep it on the mantle and polish it?” she said in exasperation. “Yes! Please destroy the damn thing!”

He reached out his hand and she felt the strange compulsion ease. She placed the hilt in his fingers and backed away from him, rubbing her hand on her thigh.

Now that the dagger was out of her possession, Tarah immediately felt better. It was as if a pressure she hadn’t even known was there had been eased from her mind. “I took it off a dark wizardess we killed a few weeks ago. I-I really have no idea why I had forgotten it was there. The stupid thing has to have been getting in the way of my arrows every time I drew one out.”

John lifted the dagger, a look of distaste on his face. “This is Malos, the amber dagger, one of six made for the high priests of the Dark Prophet. Its purpose is truly evil and Tolynn, you were right. Though Tarah did not know it, the dagger was feeding on the magic of this place. Sadly, the Dark Prophet just received a nice boost to his magic. We shall have to put a stop to that.”