We're about a mile from the settlement, that is at least, if Triden's directions were still accurate. Its taken a few days to get from the Sepulcher to the Vrythe settlement. Though The Arator was kind enough to lend us a wagon, saving me precious time. Rhys and Durin gladly took the leads while Ivar and I have our brains shaken against our skulls for several hours at a time.
We sit silent on the benches of the uncovered wagon, the racket of the wooden wheels against dirt and stone drowning out any attempt at conversation. I draw the new blade and admire the dwarven craftsmanship. The damascus flame-blade glistens in the pale light of Novus moon. Intricate patterns of thorns and vines wrap themselves around each curve. The weight of it in my hand feels natural, as if has always been an extension of myself. The pleasant aroma of the freshly wound leather grip drifts through the air. I inhale deep, taking in the scent. It reminds me of home. My father handing me my first sword. Teaching me how to wield it. I frown at the memory, if only I could've been there. I could have saved him.
"Woah there girl! Woah!" Rhys's shouting takes my attention.
"What's wrong?" I ask. Rhys points to the fallen tree in front of us.
"Road block. It's probably the Vrythe..." He pauses for a moment. "Probably. You have the sack of reagents yes?"
"And the seal, yes."
"Good." He stands and cups his hands around his mouth. "We've been sent by the Mortus Rose to aide you! We mean you no harm!" We wait silently, listening for any faint sound of steps in the dirt or the rustling of branches.
"What are we yelling at?" A small creature covered in green fur has appeared on the bench in between Rhys and Durin. They yelp at the sudden appearance of it. It's high pitch giggle signals the dozen other Vrythe to emerge from their hiding places. "It's been a long time Rhys." The Vrythe jumps to its feet and stares up at Rhys, an excited grin on its face.
"Was this really necessary Pix?" He motions to the fallen log.
"We caught sight of you a while back. I recognized you right away! But the rest of you look very suspicious." He squints his golden eyes at each of us. Strange. No pupils. Rhys shakes his head at Pix.
"We've brought a gift from The Arator." He motions for me to retrieve the reagent bag. The stench of it makes me whip my head violently away from it. I had forgotten why I had tied it to the bottom of the wagon. A sign of respect my uncle told me. He also told me not to look inside it, the smell of it has made sure I've followed his instructions. Pix's eyes widen and a large grin overtakes his face. He snatches it quickly from my hands and raises it high above his head. He's met with the high pitched cheers of the Vrythe surrounding out cart.
"Excellent!" He inhales the noxious fumes rising from the bag. Exhaling as if it were the sweetest flower. I force back a gag and shake away the disgust. Pix hops down from the cart and gives a command in their native dialect to two of The Vrythe dressed in leafy robes. The two make their way to opposite ends of the log and begin waving their staves around above their heads. Incense basins attached to them draw wispy trails of smoke in the air. The two begin chanting and the tree begins to shake. Cracking wood echos like thunder as the base of it splits apart and forms legs. More cracks form arms and hands. The creature rolls to its belly and rises to its feet, meandering a short distance off the road.
The two Vrythe sages stop their chanting and the sentient tree falls to the ground, motionless.
"What is that thing?" I ask Pix.
"It's a tree?"
"But it just grew arms and legs!"
"How else are you supposed to move a tree?" Pix's expression is one of pity and confusion. He glances at Rhys concerned about his new company.
"Let's get moving shall we?" Rhys says. We wind our way through the thick forest. It's beautiful here. A breeze rustles branches in which songbirds sing their tranquil melodies. Everything in sight is full of color. Vibrant green leaves and crystal streams filled with multi colored pebbles and stones decorate the wonderous woods. It feels easy to breathe here, the fresh air filling my lungs more fully. The histories say most of the world looked like this, before The Shroud. Now this may very well be the last oasis in Nox. The roads are quieter here, the crashing of wheels against stone has quieted. Replaced by a soothing rumble.
Pix has joined us on the wagon, sitting between Rhys and Durin, filling them in on all the happenings in his village since he last saw Rhys. Most is mundane day to day gossip, and some is far too detailed. I look over at Ivar who's gaze is captivated by the life around us.
"It's beautiful here." I say. He nods, not meeting my gaze. His expression seems mournful, as if grief has found him despite the beauty around us. "Are you alright?" His eyes drop from the canopy to mine. They glisten in the short pockets of light that quickly pass over us. He gives me a sad smile.
"She would have loved it here." My heart aches for him, everyone has lost someone in Nox. It's just the way things are. But that doesn't make the reality of it any easier to handle. He has not spoken about his wife in a long time, part of me feared that he never would. She's been gone two years now, and it's one of the reasons he so willingly joined my expedition in the first place. It was an outlet for his rage and sorrow. A place he did not have to remember her. I offer him no words, he doesn't need them. I move to sit beside him and wait. If he does not wish to share his thoughts, I will not push him to do so.
"My people believe that the dead watch over us. That they see our actions... I have spilled enough blood to fill a hundred seas... Do you think she has forsaken me?" A gentle tear finds its way over his eyelid, trailing down and dripping off his chin. I watch the tear fall and I feel my own eyes begin to water. I'm reminded of my own losses, memories of time spent. And the deep yearning to regain time lost. Grief wracks my heart, a sharp heavy pain as if it were being squeezed by a thousand needles. I rest my hand on my friends shoulder and meet his heart retching gaze.
"My dear friend, Sarah loved you with all of her heart. I'm sure her soul loves you just as much." His lips quiver into a sad smile, he turns his gaze quickly back to the wilds around us. I move back to the other side of the wagon, giving him the space he needs. She was a beautiful and kind woman, I'd never seen Ivar so happy as the day he met her. And so devastated as the day he lost her. I do not know if she truly watches him from the stars, but I hope will all of my being that she does.
