Troy Denning - The Verdant Passage

In the center of the meadow, a mound rose high into the air. Sadira squinted at the structure and, despite her blurred vision, saw that it had been built entirely from large blocks of gray rock. A steep stairway ran up the center, but otherwise the structure was perfectly smooth, with only tiny seams where the blocks met.

Atop the mound sat a small house of white marble, with a smoking copper brazier outside the door. Next to the brazier lay the weapons and satchels that Sadira and her friends had brought into the forest. In front of the pile stood Anezka and a wild-looking halfling male. He was covered with green paint, and a crown of woven fronds ringed his tangled mass of hair. In his small hands, the man held Ktandeo’s cane.

Sadira’s heart sank. After using the cane at Agis’s estate, she had realized that it was far more dangerous than she had suspected. Still, the sorceress did not like seeing it in the hands of a forest-dwelling savage. She and her companions would need it to battle Kalak.

Looking to the bottom of the mound, she saw that a single oak tree grew there. The majestic oak looked oddly misplaced in a meadow surrounded by dancing conifers and frond trees, but its isolation had not prevented it from growing up straight and strong.

Scattered around the oak’s trunk were dozens of halfling men and women, all holding wooden bowls. Some had adorned their arms or legs with brightly colored feathers, but otherwise none of them wore anything except loincloths. They all watched the top of the mound with an air of anticipation.

“You’re awake.” The voice came from Sadira’s left.

“I feel like I’m dead,” Sadira answered shakily, turning her aching head toward Agis.

A few feet away, the noble hung on a stone slab that had been planted upright in the ground. His hands and feet were lashed into place with leather ropes running through a set of special holes. At the bottom of the slab was a large, semicircular catch basin, stained brown with old blood.

“What happened?” Sadira asked. Her head had finally cleared, and she realized that she hung on a similar stone. The pain in her wrists was caused by her bindings.

Agis told her about their capture. When he explained how she had stumbled into the tripwire as he tried to save her from the poisoned arrow, he added, “I’m sorry about your head.”

“She’s alive and conscious,” said a woman voice. “There’s nothing to be sorry about in that.”

Sadira turned her throbbing head to the right and saw that Rikus and Neeva were also hanging from stone slabs.

“It was Anezka who led us into the ambush, not Agis,” agreed Rikus. “Maybe she did it because of that business with the spider-”

“And maybe not,” interrupted Neeva. “I doubt we’ll ever know, but now isn’t the time to worry about it.” She tilted her chin toward the granite mound. “I think we’re finally about to meet our captor.”

Sadira looked in the direction Neeva indicated. The green-painted halfling stepped off the mound into midair. Instead of falling, he slowly drifted down toward the sorceress and her friends. He carried Ktandeo’s cane in both hands, like a full-sized man would carry a fighting cudgel.

Behind him, Anezka climbed down the steep stairs. When she reached the bottom, a half-dozen halflings with feathered armbands joined her. One of them handed her a wooden bowl, then they walked toward Sadira and the others.

As the floating halfling settled to the ground in front of Sadira, the slave girl saw that a large ring of gold hung in his hawkish nose. Bands of hammered silver ringed his ears, and a large ball of obsidian dangled from a chain around his neck.

The halfling looked at Sadira with an air of indignation. “Where did you get this staff?” he asked.

“Who wants to know?” Sadira responded.

The halfling stared at her menacingly, obviously shocked at her challange to his authority. When Sadira met his gaze evenly, he said, “I am World Tree, whose roots bring forth fruit so that my people may eat. I am Rain Bird, whose wings shower the land with water so that my people may drink. I am Time Serpent, whose tail is the past and whose head is the future, so that my people will live forever. I am Nok, the forest.”

Nok raised the cane. “Now, tell me how you came by this staff.”

“A man named Ktandeo gave it to me.”

Nok narrowed his eyes. “I made this for Ktandeo. He would not have given it to an impudent young woman.”

“It was his dying act,” Sadira said, regarding the halfling in a new light. Anyone who could make such an item was no ordinary savage. “He gave me the cane so you would know we came in his name.”

The halfling’s posture grew less menacing, and he closed his eyes. “Now I know why the moons have been weeping. Ktandeo was a worthy friend of the forest,” he said, touching one hand to the gold ring in his nose and the other to a silver ear-band. “He brought many fine offerings.”

Anzeka arrived with six halflings wearing feathered armbands. They stood behind Nok, patiently holding their bowls in both hands. Rikus and Neeva fixed angry glares on Anezka, but said nothing. Agis also remained silent, studying Nok with a thoughtful expression.

“Ktandeo sent us for his magical spear,” Sadira said.

“I have been growing a spear,” replied the halfling, meeting Sadira’s gaze with warmer eyes. “I cannot give it to you.”

“Why not?” the sorceress asked. “Isn’t it ready?”

Nok glanced over his shoulder at the oak tree. “It’s ready … but you are not worthy of it.”

Assuming he meant she was not strong enough to throw it, Sadira pointed her chin at Rikus. “He’s the one who will use the spear. Not me.”

Nok regarded the mul with an appraising eye, but shook his head. “There is more than strength to throwing a spear,” he said. “The aim must be accurate, the heart true. Without Ktandeo to guide his hand, the hairless one will fail.”

“What do you mean?” Rikus bristled. “The spear hasn’t been made that I can’t handle.”

“You cannot wield this one!” Nok snapped.

“You haven’t seen him fight. How is it that you know this?” Sadira asked.

“Because you hang on the Feast Stones,” the halfling replied, tapping the cane against the basin at Sadira’s feet. “If you were worthy of the Heartwood Spear, you would not be there. Your blood would never yearn to fill these basins.”

“Feast Stones!” Rikus exclaimed, tugging at his bindings.

“We came as friends!” Agis objected.

“You’ll become part of the forest. What could be a greater gift for one’s friends?” Nok asked, smiling sincerely.

“Anezka didn’t bring us here to be eaten!” Neeva growled.

“Of course she did,” Nok said. “You are her offering.”

“Offering!” Rikus cried, looking to Anezka. “That’s not why you brought us here, is it?”

Anezka nodded, giving the mul a reassuring smile.

“Nok, my friends and I would be honored to join your forest,” the sorceress lied. “Unfortunately, Ktandeo sent us for the spear because the need in Tyr is great.”

“What need?” the halfling asked.

“Kalak has a small pyramid made of obsidian,” Agis explained, his eyes fixed on the halfling’s pendant. “He also has many obsidian balls, and a tunnel lined with obsidian bricks. Do you know what this means?”

Nok’s eyes opened wide. “It is too soon,” he said, shaking his head sadly.

Agis went on to tell the halfling about the memory he had seen inside Tithian’s mind and about the king’s plans to seal the stadium during the gladiatorial games.

When the noble finished, Sadira asked, “Now will you give us the spear?”

Nok shook his head. “You couldn’t even reach me without being captured,” he said. “How can you hope to stop a dragon?”