Will McDermott - Judgment

It was the third patrol he'd seen heading south in the past two days. Kamahl knew his pursuers had entered the forest, that Laquatas was coming for him and for the Mirari. But Kamahl knew how to avoid the nantuko, and he knew that the mer was no match for the forest warriors. For the first time since he'd laid eyes on the Mirari, Kamahl was not worried about Laquatas.

Kamahl remained motionless on his limb well after the nantuko patrol passed by, waiting for the other animals to return. Their senses were still far keener than his, and he had learned from experience over the last two days that it was not necessarily safe to move until the other animals returned.

Twice, nantuko raiding parties had double-backed and spotted him when he moved. The second time he had remained motionless for an hour. His patience and his muscle control had grown immeasurably during the past few days.

And yet, they had waited just as long. When the barbarian released his hold on the branch and fell to the forest floor, the raiders were on him in an instant, slashing at him with their razor-edged forearms and cutting him off as he tried to retreat. In that battle, Kamahl had been forced to disable two nantuko, breaking all four legs on one beast with a vicious leg sweep and dislocating the shoulders of another when the nantuko warrior struggled against the vines Kamahl had summoned to entangle the creature.

After that battle, Kamahl realized he could not sense danger as well as small prey could. Each time the nantuko attacked, the barbarian now realized, the forest went quiet, and it was not until he was completely out of danger that he would begin to notice life returning around him-the chittering of squirrels, the buzzing of insects, the songs of birds. He then decided to wait until the sounds of the forest awoke before continuing his quest.

And so Kamahl waited, crouched in the tree, barefoot and covered in mud, twigs, and leaves. He waited for the forest to revive, for danger to pass. Finally, a brown form moved through the leaves. The barbarian slowly raised his upper body until his back was up against the trunk of the tree, keeping his legs bent beneath him.

It was only a squirrel on its way to look for nuts or on its way back home after foraging. Either way, it meant that the danger had passed. The forest, in its own way, was telling the barbarian it was time to move along. Confident that the patrol was gone, Kamahl moved off from his perch in the crook of the tree, running along the limb and springing as the branch began to bend under his weight. For a moment he floated through the air, his arms spread wide, feeling the rush of wind the squirrel must have felt as it glided through the trees.

But the barbarian couldn't fly or glide and had to rely on his arms, legs, and magic to navigate the treetops. His perfectly timed jump sent him past a lower branch on the nearest tree, which Kamahl grabbed with both hands, allowing the momentum of his legs to swing him around and up to a handstand. Bending at the waist, the barbarian lowered himself onto the branch.

Springing up to grab the next branch, Kamahl swung up onto that limb and then sprinted down its length and launched back into the air. As he began to fall, Kamahl shot his arm out and called forth a vine. The barbarian swung past the next tree and twenty feet higher into a tree beyond.

After several hours of moving from tree to tree through the upper reaches of Krosan, Kamahl began to notice a subtle change in the forest. No longer did he have to spend so much time jumping directly from tree to tree. He could move greater and greater distances on the vines, for the trees were now growing farther and farther apart, leaving much more open space up in the bows.

In fact, in many instances he had no choice but to swing from one tree to another. Where once the leaves from different trees intermingled at the ends of their branches, now it was rare that the barbarian could even make it safely from one tree to another without the help of magic.

Kamahl leaned against the trunk of an oak and surveyed the forest, scanning his surroundings with both his eyes and his ears. Looking left and right, he noticed the trees nearly lined up like rows of wheat in the fields he and Balthor had ridden through on their trek to the forest. Were these trees planted long ago by the guardian? Did Thriss have some control over the plants as well as the animals? Kamahl did not know, but he was certain that this was not a natural occurrence. It looked more like a garden-a very large garden.

The barbarian also noticed that it was much brighter than it had been in the outer parts of the forest. The conclusion was obvious-with fewer leaves, more light was getting through.

Listening to the sounds of the forest, Kamahl noticed one final change. Where the denser, darker parts of the forest had, out of necessity, been governed by silence most of the time- for most of the larger predators hunted as much by sound as by scent-this lighter area was much more alive with the chittering of squirrels, the songs of birds, and the constant rustle of leaves as the small inhabitants moved freely in and around the trees, unconcerned about predators.

Kamahl made a decision. It was time to leave the trees and make the last leg of his journey on foot. He had, over the last few days, turned into a wild animal. With no one to talk to and the constant danger from nantuko and other large predators, the barbarian had become something feral-less human. Now he must regain his humanity and leave the trappings of the wild behind.

Kamahl scrambled down the trunk of the large' oak tree, quickly descending the hundred feet between him and the floor of the forest. Kamahl slowly stood up to his full height, flexed his arms up over his head, and stretched out the muscles in his back. He then pulled off the vines he'd tied around his body and dropped them to the ground. Covered with mud and sweat, his feet and hands red and callused from days spent in the trees, and his hair disheveled and full of twigs, Kamahl knew he was still a sight to behold, a wild man from the deep woods.

Looking down at the vines he dropped, Kamahl noticed that even the ground here was different from the wild portions of the forest. Moss and bushes had given way to ivy, flowers, and even grass. In the middle of the row of trees, the barbarian noticed something else-a well-traveled path heading straight north.

For the first hour on the path, Kamahl remained tense, expecting an attack from behind every tree. But as every tree passed and another ambush didn't take place, he began to relax, to stretch out his tense muscles, to walk straighter and taller again.

As Kamahl's tension eased, he began to enjoy the walk and spent more and more time gazing at the tamed wilderness around him. There were patterns in the ivy on the trees. The vines and leaves wove in and around each other to form loops, lines, and swirls that all worked together to create some intricate design the barbarian could not figure out.

Even the flowers seemed to be placed in precise positions. Kamahl could see a panoply of colors lining the path in an intricate, alternating pattern of reds, blues, yellows, and purples. The patterns must mean something to someone, but Kamahl could not decipher what, perhaps because he could only see this one, small section. The meaning might become evident only if he could see the whole forest. Kamahl was now certain that the entire forest had been created by a gardener, albeit one who worked with trees as easily as flowers.

Traveling down the path, wondering at the enormity of the work required to tend this garden, Kamahl suddenly came upon the heart of Krosan, never seeing the end of the path until it was upon him. He hadn't known what to expect when he started on this journey, and even Seton's reverence for the place hadn't prepared him for what he saw as he left the woods and entered the heart. Kamahl stepped into a huge clearing larger than all of Cabal City. That entire city, from the docks outside the east gate to the gently rolling hills rising up from the west gate would fit inside the heart of Krosan.