by L. Itram and Ben Yackley Main * Story * Setting * Cast * Illustrations * About * Comment

Spirits of Hluluwe by Kevin Young (2003)

The afternoon sun bore on the continent of Hluluwe with all the vengeance one would expect of summertime in the tropics. But the seaside humidity and stagnating air currents always seemed to leave the port town of Quarrington particularly vulnerable to the heat. For its fur-bearing residents, the combination made the place virtually unlivable over half of the year. Even with the chroma-powered cooling towers scattered throughout.

"But today must be special," Aaron thought to himself, "to have all of that PLUS a plaza filled with flaring tempers." His tail twitched in disgust as the impassioned speaker on stage once again came to a crescendo, further riling the assembled crowd. He, on the other hand, looked on from a distance, leaning against the shady side of a nearby building. A large, pointed tarp had been raised to offer similar protection to the townspeople meeting in the square, but Aaron swore he could still see heat trails swirling above their heads.

"These demands are intolerable!" the speaker was shouting now. "Who do you think you are, waltzing in here like you own the place and telling us what we can and cannot do?! What gives you the right to put these...outrageous restrictions on our humble community?!" The wolf-like gentleman standing in the center of the small stage needed no magic to make his booming challenges heard throughout the city. Challenges he backed up with a tall, muscular frame and a set of teeth he made no attempt to hide.

But even he was dwarfed by the three Cockatrice chieftains standing off to the right. Though not quite as bulky, each one stood a solid foot taller than their Levendish counterpart; a characteristic that did much to explain their expressions of rational confidence. They’d been through this song and dance before; sometimes individually, sometimes together, sometimes even at random in remote locations of the jungle. Over the years they'd grown quite used to hearing the mayor's tirades whenever the subject of trade and border negotiations came up. Even the simplest matters usually wound up taking hours to work through, resulting in little actual progress.

For the life of them the chieftains could never understand what the constant fuss was about. Though infrequent, their dealings with the foreign settlers had always been cordial; their trades fair. In the end, both sides got what they wanted and walked away on friendly terms. So why did this Levendish have to be so…dramatic about it?

"These are not demands," the lead chieftain said calmly, translation amulet dangling from his red-feathered neck. "These are simple requests meant to benefit us both. Requests not unlike those you have made of us in the past."

"Preposterous! Our colony has never required such an enormous sacrifice from the Cockatrice clans. On the contrary, we've always respected your boundaries and treated you as equals. But from the moment we arrived on Kyria..."

"Hluluwe," a blue and purple colored chieftain interjected.

"...We've received nothing in return but constant harassment and calls for concession. From the moment we arrived you Cockatrices have done everything possible to keep us contained in our little box. And now, when you sense a momentary weakness in our resolve, you go in for the kill. Trying to cut us off from the very source of our livelihood. Trying to starve us off our land!"

The red chieftain sighed. "Mayor Ardensen, we desire nothing of the sort. But if this land is to continue nourishing your people as it has nourished ours for generations, steps must taken to ensure it remains vibrant and pure. If your practices continue as they have, you will only drive yourselves to ruin."

"But we need those trees!" the Levendish snarled.

"…And there are more than enough to meet your needs in the northeast," the final chieftain said, the green feathers on his head clearly ruffled. "We're not asking you to abandon your way of life, only to direct it in a more positive direction."

"More positive for you, perhaps," the mayor grumbled. "We've been over this already. Further logging to the northeast is impossible. We don’t have the time or the resources to drag timber that far. It's always been that way." He raised an arm and pointed in the opposite direction. "But the river to the west allows us to move and process our wares quickly and cheaply. The only way this community can survive is by continuing to log along that river."

"And as we have explained to you," the blue chieftain said, "there are no more places along the Ilmeeree River left to harvest."

"Bull. There are plenty of trees further north."

"Our homes are also to the north, and we have our own need for the surrounding resources."

"Fine, then we'll go west and log along the opposite side of the river."

"You cannot go to the west," the cockatrice stated firmly. "That ground is sacred. The spirits of Hluluwe dwell there."

"Unbelievable! You'll come up with any excuse to make us leave. Are you trying to force us all off the continent? That's it, isn't it!" This generated sympathetic shouts from several members in the crowd, though most still seemed willing to listen.

"Zandal, please, our intentions are purely honorable. We ask no more from your people than we do from our own," the green chieftain responded.

"And what gives you the right to force these concessions out of us whenever you please? These demands are intolerable!"

Aaron had heard enough. They'd been over this part several times already, and it had gotten them nowhere. With a final, disdainful snort, he turned and walked out of the town square, taking his sack of groceries with him. "Why do they even bother?" he thought to himself, kicking at a loose cobblestone in the road. "I mean, is this place really worth the trouble?" He glanced around at some of the surrounding buildings as he passed. Large, oddly shaped structures that looked as if their builders had started with a traditional Levendish design, only to switch to something more locally practical halfway through. Despite some residents' best efforts at salvage, all had fallen into various states of disrepair. The worst structures were the easiest to recognize, as they were also completely abandoned. The young Levendish sighed and stared back at the ground again. Whether or not logging continued along the riverbank made no real difference in the long run. Quarrington was dying.

It hadn't always been this way. The town was founded by a collection of strong, starry-eyed settlers determined to stake their claim on the mysterious new continent and return to Levend fabulously wealthy. Zephyrite, and the growing demand for it worldwide, attracted an equally growing number of prospectors looking to strike it rich. But the Levendish founders of Quarrington were easily the most organized, most experienced, and best prepared bunch of the lot. And why not? Where others fought amongst themselves for individual, short-term glory, they had come together to establish a lasting colony. And when it came to establishing colonies, no one beat the Levendish.

Of course, no one bothered to tell the natives of Hluluwe about their plans beforehand, nor did anyone stop to consider that the Cockatrices might have had their own plans for the strange floating mineral. So when the colonists loaded their ships and set sail, they were surprised to find all the best sites for mining large quantities of Zephyrite had already been claimed by the continent's dominant clans. They hugged the coastline in search of other potential sites, but discovered nothing not already controlled by a lesser clan. Finally, the settlers stumbled upon a remote area of land abundant with natural resources and largely devoid of people. They found and tethered several small deposits of the precious ore and a town quickly sprang up along the beach. Quarrington earned its name from the promise of riches supposedly orbiting around it.

Those riches came, but they didn't last long. Within a couple years the Zephyrite reserves were gone, and the presence of several lower Cockatrice clans had made the stones floating further inland inaccessible. The few colonists who'd already made their fortunes quickly abandoned the town, leaving the rest with the difficult task of reinventing their entire economy. It was a process made even more difficult by their total lack of preparation. These were miners who'd filled their ships with tools for capturing, holding, and digging into the odd, levitating boulders that circled Hluluwe. Their dreams for the future didn't include a contingency plan.

Quarrington barely managed to stay on the map after that. Its ocean-side location allowed residents to sell whatever surplus goods they farmed or gathered from the jungle, but they soon realized it was more profitable to just sell the jungle itself. Like its stony counterpart, Hluluwean trees were softer and lighter than those found elsewhere on Delyria. This made them terrible for large, durable products like ships and houses (though the colonists had little choice when it came to their own homes), but perfect for smaller items like decorative furniture and ornate carvings. Mages even sailed in on occasion looking for custom-made staves to cast their spells.

The business was hardly lucrative, but it did bring in money. Even so, the town hadn't been seen as a place to settle down in for a long time. It was common practice for colonists to stay just long enough to buy passage off the continent for themselves and their families. The poorer, more adventurous souls would often try stowing away on passing merchant vessels, or setting off on long expeditions for small amounts of Zephyrite. Whatever method they used, it was clear that people wanted out of Quarrington. And once they were gone, they were rarely heard from again.

Aaron knew that situation all too well. His own father had left for Almanaque one year earlier in search of better job opportunities. He hadn't seen him since, but supposed he must have been doing all right for himself. Every couple of months he would receive a letter from him along with a small amount of money. Combined with the earnings from his own job at the mill, the plan was to eventually earn enough to book his own passage to Almanaque, as well as that of his little sister. Since their mother died, Aaron had taken on an ever greater role in her upbringing. And when dad left, that job turned full-time.

He turned onto the dusty path leading to his home, quickly shaking his mind back into the present. Like the rest of the town's structures, his looked to be in serious need of renovation. Missing shingles, peeling paint, and cracked windows made the modest, two-story building fit right in amongst its neighbors. The region's all-to-frequent tropical storms accounted for much of the damage, along with no small amount of homeowner apathy. That's not to say Aaron didn't take steps to protect his home from the weather, only that his idea of fixing the damage afterwards was to simply leave the protective boards nailed in place. He unhinged one such brace now as he stepped through the beaten doorway.

"Yo, Peanut! I'm home!" he shouted, tossing his work gloves into a corner of the entryway. There was no answer. "Probably out in the east meadow picking flowers with her friends," he thought to himself. "Ah well, she'll get hungry eventually." He took the grocery bag into the kitchen and dumped its contents. A surprisingly wide variety of items rolled onto the counter, including a fresh loaf of bread, some fruit, a small cut of ham, a few eggs, and a cheese wheel. Still, the actual amount of food wasn't very large; enough, perhaps, to keep the two of them fed through tomorrow. They could afford more, but in Quarrington it was never a good idea to buy things in bulk. There was no easy way to keep it fresh.

Aaron looked the assortment over, trying to figure out what was missing. "Vegetables..." The young Levendish made his way out the back door and through a gate leading to a small garden. After a short search he found a pair of ripe tomatoes and a radish that looked 'ripe enough.' The place wasn't much of a food source, but his sister took great pride in keeping it sustained. He smiled to himself as he recalled the way she talked to her plants whenever she watered them. During his days off work, he would often watch through the window as she carried on the most intricate conversations with her vegetables. They'd all been given names, of course, as well as their own histories and personalities. Every night at dinner she'd give him an hour-long summary of the day's events. About how she'd resolved the feud between the beets and the squashes, complimented the pea pods on their beautiful children, and plotted with Mrs. Cucumber on how they were going to introduce Aaron to that cute girl who worked at the bakery.

Aaron derived great amusement from his sibling's active imagination. He'd given her the nickname as a way of teasing her, but he secretly admired his little sister for having such an uncanny affinity for plant life. She seemed to know more about the local vegetation than anyone in town, and spent no small amount of time searching for blossoms to decorate the house with. He often wondered if her role play was simply a way of coping with their mother's death, and voiced his concerns that she needed to spend more time with her friends from school. He was pleased that she seemed to have taken his advice today.

Food in hand, he went back to the kitchen to prepare supper, grateful that his sister's fantasy world allowed for actual consumption of the garden's bounty. He'd barely begun slicing the loaf of bread when there was a panicked knocking at the door.

"Gently, gently! I'll be there in a second," he shouted, putting the carving knife back and grumbling his way to the front entrance. "Door's barely attached as it is. If it's that floppy eared co-worker wanting me to pull his shift for him again I swear I'm gonna..."

He stopped when he recognized the short, gray-furred Levendish boy standing on the porch. Like most of the children in Quarrington his cotton shirt and denim overalls were covered in grass stains and patches of dirt, but on this occasion he also wore a terrified expression on his face. And from the way he was breathing, it was obvious he'd been running for a while.

"Justin?" Aaron knelt down to meet him at eye level. "What's the matter?"

"sniff Oh, Mr. Taleson, I'm so sorry! We didn't mean for anything to happen! We just...and everything happened so fast and...and I didn't know what to do and... gasp"

"Whoa, easy. Just calm down, take a deep breath, and tell me again slowly," he said, gently holding the boy’s shoulders. "Now, what's going on? And start from the beginning this time."

Justin gave off another sniffle, then inhaled deeply. "Well, a group of us all went out to the eastern meadow to play. Me and Kodis wanted to catch some wrestling bugs and watch 'em fight, but the girls just wanted to talk and put flowers in their hair and stuff..."

Though Aaron continued listening, his attention drifted toward some commotion by the road. He peered over Justin's shoulder to watch a small group of children running past, same terrified looks on their faces. Kodis was among them, along with several girls that his sister regularly hung out with. "Wait a minute..." he said with growing concern. He turned back to face Justin. "Where's Rosalyn?"

"...We told them that talking was boring, and that flowers were for sissies, but they just called us 'immature' and stuck their tongues out at us..."

"Never mind that! Skip to the part where you tell me about Rosalyn! And tell me quickly!"

"She was kidnapped! She was taken into the jungle!"

"What?! By whom?! One of the Cockatrices?"

"No! It was...it looked like......well, to be honest I didn't get a very good look at it. But it wasn't a Cockatrice! I know what they look like!"

"Well if it wasn't one of the clans, then who? Surely you must have seen something!"

"I don't know what it was! When she screamed I barely looked up in time to see some.…thing dragging her through the trees. I didn't see it that good! Honest!" Justin's eyes began welling with tears again.

"Alright, it's alright, I believe you," Aaron said, toning his voice down several notches. "Where did this happen? And how long ago?"

"sniff….Just a few minutes. We were playing by the river when it happened. Kodis said both the bugs and flowers were better over by the riverbank, so we followed it upstream into the jungle and..."

"Hold on, you kids were actually in the jungle when this happened?! You know better than to wander into the trees without supervision!"

Justin tilted his gaze toward his shuffling feet. "I know, but..."

"Never mind, you can tell me on the way there." Aaron stood and took the boy by the hand, leading him down the front path. They barely made it past the porch before he stopped and turned around again. "No...wait here a minute. I'll be right back."

He flew into the house, taking the stairs to his room three at a time. He unburied the old, oak storage chest sitting at the bottom of his closet and quickly dragged it into the middle of the floor, popping the brass latches and raising the lid as he went.

"C'mon, c'mon, I distinctly remember putting it in here," he muttered, scattering clothes and assorted items about the room. Finally he found what he was after; a large leather scabbard with a handle poking out at one end. "Ah, here we go." Aaron pulled on the handle, revealing the full length of the machete housed inside. It appeared to be in good condition; no sign of chips or rust. He brushed a finger against the blade, an action that rewarded him with a painful cut. "Still sharp, too," he said with a wince.

That was good enough for him. He ran back down the stairs, resheathing the large knife and stuffing a handful of other items into a small daypack. Within moments he was on the porch again, practically carrying Justin along as he rushed past.

"Now, I want you to show me where this happened," he said. The boy responded with a nod and began leading him toward the north end of town. Aaron glanced down the main road at the crowd still gathered in the plaza. The children he'd seen earlier were there now, bouncing agitatedly around the mayor. He was too far away to hear any voices, but he had a pretty good idea what they were saying.

"WHAT!?" Zandal Ardensen's booming voice echoed around the buildings like a thunderclap, very nearly making the windows rattle. Aaron quickened his pace.

"...And I think we'd better hurry."

* * *

During the colony's early settlement days, the land surrounding its northern border was shrouded in a dense tangle of trees and vines. But as Quarrington grew, the tree line receded inland, leaving behind a vast open field on all sides. Stumps and underbrush were cleared away and the acres of ground beneath were plowed into usable farmland. Enough to support the town’s quickly burgeoning population.

Years of decline, however, had taken their toll on community and countryside alike. As people began moving out, the demand for produce dwindled. Many farms were simply abandoned to the weeds and wild grasses that clouded the spring sky with fluffy seeds. Of course, Quarrington's changing fortunes in no way stopped the jungle's destruction; only the development of its remains. The few farms that did survive were all gathered in the northwest, closely positioned to both the Ilmeeree river and the town itself. But to the north and eastern areas beyond large tracts of land had simply been logged clear and left.

The two would-be rescuers were now trudging their way across this rough expanse as they headed for the jungle's edge. Justin led the way with Aaron following close behind, tripping over roots and long-dead branches as he went. Granted, it was the most direct path to the scene of the abduction, but the older Levendish found his progress hampered by all the debris; at least until he mimicked Justin's technique of hopping from stump to stump.

As they neared the jungle's looming boundary, the sound of rushing water also became more apparent. They only had to travel a short distance before the muddy, rapidly flowing currents of the Ilmeeree came into view. As far as rivers go this one wasn't exceptionally wide or deep, but it was enough to float newly cut timbers to the mills with ease. Aaron and Justin stepped cautiously around the large saws and harnesses that littered the abandoned work camp. The town meeting had kept everyone away since late that morning, and the two weren't sure how many trees had been left half cut and ready to fall.

Suddenly, an entirely new set of noises could be heard echoing in the distance. The two Levendish stopped and listened, trying to identify the source.

"Sounds like voices. Lots of them," Justin said, nervously breaking the long silence.

"And they're coming closer," said Aaron. "I figured it wouldn't take the mayor long to get a mob together and investigate. I'm glad we got here first."

"You mean you don't want them to find Rosalyn?"

Aaron shook his head. "If Zandal's convinced that the Cockatrices are behind her disappearance, as I'm sure he is, he'll be out looking for them, not her. We've gotta get Rosalyn back before they do something stupid."

Justin nodded in agreement. "This way," he said, running towards the narrow shoreline.

Aaron chased after. "Wait, where are you going? I thought you said you were in the jungle when this happened?"

"That's where she was taken to. Not where she was taken from." The young Levendish pointed towards the opposite shore. "Whatever grabbed her must have come out of the water when she was picking riverkelp. It carried her off over there."

"The western jungle..." Aaron's stomach sank as he stared off into the impenetrable mass of greenery. Few had ever explored very far beyond the natural boundary of the river, and the handful that had were never heard from again. He drew the machete from its sheath, holding it in his right hand. If his sister was in there, she was in a lot of danger, but there was no sense wasting time worrying about what kind of danger.

"Alright," he said at last. "So how do we get over there?"

"I'll show ya."

Upon reaching the riverbank, the two followed the edge upstream. The work camp hadn't even disappeared from view when Justin turned and pointed at a mass of rocks linking the two sides.

"I noticed them on my way back. We can just hop across like we did with the stumps."

"Hold on. Let me go first and make sure it's safe."

Aaron carefully plotted his way across the river, pointing out loose stones for Justin to avoid and bypassing any gaps that were too far to jump. Upon reaching the other side, they followed the shore upstream until they reached the area where Rosalyn was last seen. Aaron quickly set about hacking a path through the undergrowth. If she was in there, he was determined to find her.

* * *

Hours later, the sounds of shouting and severing vines still carried across the jungle’s heart, mingling amongst the screeches of the local wildlife.

"Rosalyn! Roz, where are you?!"

"Aaaaruuun, can't we take a break? I'm tired. And hot!"

"We just had a break an hour ago," Aaron replied, hacking his way through another tree limb. "Besides, she's close now. I know it."

"That's what you said three hours ago," Justin whined. "Do you even know where we're going?"

"We're going in the direction you told me back at the river. Do you have a better place to look?"

"Maybe the mayor and the others found her? Or maybe she escaped and got back on her own?"

Aaron sliced through another dense patch of leaves, a little harder than he had to. "You wanna go home? Fine! The river's back..." Aaron paused to check his compass, "...that way!"

"...I don't wanna get lost..." came Justin's meek reply, punctuated with a soft sniffle. Aaron stopped his machete’s assault and turned to regard the young boy, a sudden pang of guilt making him forget about his aching arm. He had hoped that their speedy arrival would translate into an equally speedy rescue for Rosalyn. That the three of them would be out of the jungle and headed for home in an hour, tops. But even when that hour turned into several hours without any answer to his calls, he was no less determined to find her.

And now, that determination had led them here. Far deeper into the heart of the Hluluwean jungle than he'd ever dreamed of delving, and with no clue as to where they were actually going. Aaron had no regrets about the tremendous amount of risk he was placing on himself, but he greatly regretted dragging Justin along to share it with him. So consumed was he with finding Rosalyn that he never really thought about Justin’s safety. At least he'd had the presence of mind to come prepared. Along with the knife he'd also packed enough food and water for an extended journey. A fact for which Justin was extremely grateful.

By now the sun was starting to set, but the older Levendish didn't seem to share his companion's concerns about getting lost. He didn't know where they were, but to get back they had only to follow their compass east until they hit the river. If they hurried, they could make it back well before dark, and knowing this gave Aaron enough boldness to continue the search a bit longer.

"Just hang in there for a few more minutes," he said, tossing a half-empty water bottle in Justin's direction. "If we still don't find anything, I promise we'll go straight back and get some help."

"sniff ...Okay..."

Aaron gave him a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the dense foliage. He let out a soft grunt as his arm reminded him how sore it was. "Strange that even after being at this for several hours, I’ve only been having problems within the last 30 minutes," he thought to himself. "Then again, this area of the jungle is...different somehow from the other parts we've been through." He winced as he hacked at another set of leaves. The changes were subtle, but there was no question that the undergrowth was getting thicker, both in its quantity and toughness. It was taking quite a bit more work to cut a path through here than it had anywhere else. And it only took a few minutes of trying before he was completely exhausted.

"huff....pant....What the heck is this stuff?!" He looked back at Justin. "huff….Lemme see that bottle for a sec."

"Sure...Here ya go, Mr. Taleson."

Aaron uncorked the cap and took several long gulps. The water inside was warm, but he didn't seem to notice. Quarrington rarely had it any other way.

"Thanks," he said, wiping his muzzle as he held the bottle back absently. He didn't get a reply.

"Something about these plants...is strange." He leaned over to examine the shredded foliage more closely. "Not only are they incredibly tough to cut, but they also seem...greener somehow. More perfectly sha......" His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as his eyes finally noticed the unbelievable sight taking place before them. A sight that literally made Aaron’s jaw fall open.

A leaf he'd only partially cut, one easily as wide as himself, was slowly pulling itself back together. As he stared, he could just make out a faint, greenish glow, reknitting the severed edges like a zipper as it traveled up the length of the tear. Behind it, no trace of damage remained.

"Justin! C'mere, you gotta take a look at this," he shouted, no small amount of excitement in his voice. Again, he got no response.

"Justin...?"

Aaron dropped the bottle in his left hand even as his grip tightened around the machete in his right. Justin was lying on the ground, arms, legs, and muzzle tightly bound by vines stretching out from various parts of the jungle. The boy's bulging eyes expressed only one emotion. Fear. Aaron swiveled to try and free him, but tripped over sideways as something wrapped itself around his ankle. By the time he looked down to see another vine, something else had grabbed his wrist, bending it forward until the machete fell out. He opened his mouth to scream for help, only to have it quickly clamped shut. Within seconds he was completely immobilized; helpless as the odd plants lifted both him and his companion off the ground and shuffled them forward through the jungle. Directly ahead, grass, bushes, and even entire trees bent aside; clearing a path for the conveyor of vines to transport their Levendish cargo.

* * *

"Aaron! Justin! Did Elma invite you for tea too?"

After a short and surprisingly speedy trip through the jungle, the vines set the weary rescuers down at the edge of a small clearing. Though enclosed on all sides by a mass of vegetation, the field itself was empty, save for a thick carpet of green grass. Its boundaries seemed to rise straight through the jungle canopy, allowing a wide column of sunlight to break through and illuminate the ground. Aaron had to squint against it to see who was speaking to him, but he had no problem recognizing the voice.

"Rosalyn!" No sooner had the vines let go than he was up and running toward the tan-furred Levendish girl sitting in the middle of the clearing. She wore a simple pink and white dress over her small body, and a happy, yet slightly worried expression on her face. She sensed a certain amount of anxiety on the part of her brother, who was now hugging her like an anaconda.

"I was so worried about you, Peanut. Where have you been? What happened? Are you all right?"

Rosalyn found the emotional barrage of questions difficult to answer, but she did her best to hit all the highlights. "I'm okay, big brother. I was a little scared at first, but the trees here are really nice once you get to know them. I've been here the whole time talking with them." A few tense seconds went by before she spoke again. "Am I in trouble for going into the jungle without a grownup?"

Aaron laughed. "No......yes......well maybe. We'll worry about that after we get home." He released his little sister and looked her over. She didn't appear to be injured, physically or otherwise. He heaved a sigh of relief, then turned and waved his companion over. "Justin said someone grabbed you. He said you were screaming. You're sure you're okay?"

"Hee hee, I'm fine, silly!"

"Can you tell me who it was? What did he look like? Where did he go?"

"The trees took me, but it's alright. It was all just a simple misunderstanding and I made them promise to never ever do it again without asking first. They just wanted to meet someone who could talk to them, that's all."

"What do you mean the trees took you? Are you talking about those vines?" Aaron turned to the boy by his side. "Is that what you saw, Justin?"

"Could be," he replied. "I didn't think I could see it through the foliage, but...maybe I just didn't know what I was looking at."

"The vines are how they touch and move things," Rosalyn broke in. "They're like their hands!"

"Wait, this doesn't make any sense," said Aaron. "Plants don't just move on their own. There's gotta be a mage or something making them do this. Maybe the Cockatrices are behind this, after all?"

"No! I'm telling you it was the trees! Why don't you ever believe me?!" Rosalyn said, on the verge of tears.

"Honey, I know that's what you saw. But trees can't really take people. They're not...well they're not smart like we are."

A faint rustling seemed to come from all around them, as though the leaves and branches of the surrounding plants were swaying against each other in unison. It was subtle, but hard to miss, especially since there was no breeze blowing.

"They are too smart! Especially Elma! She's been here since forever! She knows everything!" Rosalyn protested.

"Elma?" Aaron looked to where his sister was pointing, dumbfounded that he didn't notice it earlier. Standing before him at the far end of the glade was not simply more of the same, dense collection of trees he'd seen so often, but rather one, very large tree. Its surface was a deceiving mixture of troughs and ridges, appearing as though several hundred trunks had been twisted together like fibers of a rope. However, by looking closely Aaron could tell it was definitely a single organism. The sides extended well beyond the narrow scope of the clearing, and its branches towered up and out over what must have been nearly a square mile. Or more. It was easily the biggest thing he'd ever seen still attached to the Hluluwean landscape. Oddly enough, the massive tree didn't seem to be any taller than its neighbors. Did it somehow know it would only draw attention to itself that way?

Aaron shook himself back to his senses. "That's...that's very impressive, Peanut. But even large trees can't kidnap people on their own. They're just plants, sweetie."

"But Elma is an imaginary tree! All the plants here are, really, but she takes care of the others 'cause she's the biggest and the smartest. They're not just plants! They're special plants! They can move stuff around if they want to. They brought you here, didn't they?!" Rosalyn stopped to consider what she’d just said, as though something had just occurred to her. She turned toward the large tree, placing her hands on her hips in a scolding manner. "...And that was very bad of you!" she yelled at the wide trunk. "You promised you wouldn't take anyone else!"

The rustling noise returned, and again seemed to come from all directions. This time, however, Aaron was paying more attention, and could actually see the branches swaying in rhythmic patterns. The sound was different from before. Calmer and more subdued, he thought. After a few seconds of this, Rosalyn turned back towards her brother.

"Is that true, Aaron? Did you really try to hurt them?"

Aaron was too stunned to say anything at first. Was she talking about the way he’d slashed a path through the jungle? Surely the plants couldn't have told her that. But he no longer had his machete with him. How else could she have known?

"I never intended to harm anyone," he replied at last, choosing his words with care. "But I came looking for you because I was very worried. The jungle is no place for little girls."

Rosalyn's hands went straight back to her hips. "I am not a little girl!" she said indignantly. "I'm eight! I can take care of myself!"

"Yeah, right. C'mon, we're going home. Say goodbye to your new make-believe friends so we can get outta here before anything else happens."

"They're not make-believe! And I’m not going home until Elma and I are done talking!"

Aaron took his little sister firmly by the wrist, and began pulling her towards the edge of the clearing. "You'll just have to invite her over to our place some other time. Now come on, we're leaving!"

"Nonono!"

The jungle reacted with another series of rustles, far more violent than before. Stray leaves fluttered down from above, shaken loose by the intense vibrations. Aaron got the distinct impression that it didn't take too kindly to his actions. That it wasn't ready to let him go just yet.

His suspicions were confirmed when he felt Justin tugging on his sleeve. "Uh...Aaron?" He looked to where the boy was pointing and stopped dead in his tracks. The jungle that seemed to spread apart upon their arrival was now closing up again. Tight. Tree trunks, limbs, leaves, and vines wound together like a ball of snakes; weaving in and out as though they were being knit. Their only escape had been cut off, and Aaron doubted they could have made it through even if he hadn’t dropped his machete.

The ghostly, booming voice sent an icy shock racing down the boys’ spines, paralyzing them with fear. Aaron, in particular, could feel his heart beat faster even as the rest of him went numb. This was no mage. Something ethereal was behind them, and it was close. Aaron’s body did as it was told, loosening its grip on Rosalyn’s arm while he and Justin turned to face the source of their terror. Neither was truly relieved to find the same, empty field staring back at them.

"What…? What was that? Who’s there?!" Aaron asked, his voice trembling. He could feel Justin latching onto him even as Rosalyn slipped away, running directly toward the large tree.

"It’s okay. Please don’t be mad, Elma. They don’t want to hurt me, they just don’t understand you like I do," she told it.

A rustle of leaves preceded the eerie reply. "Wish they to shelter as we shelter? Desire they not to harm as before?"

Aaron’s eyes went wide as his ears told him what couldn’t be true. The voice wasn’t coming from inside the jungle, but rather from the jungle itself. From this one, gigantic tree that dominated everything around it down to the smallest blade of grass. The evidence was undeniable, and yet the idea it presented was so absurd that Aaron continued to do just that.

"You’re…the tree?!" he asked it, too shocked to manage anything else.

He still didn’t believe it. "No…no this is stupid. Trees don’t talk." And yet this one was talking. Its wavy, genderless voice seemed to flow from the massive trunk in all directions, echoing as it went. Aaron saw nothing along its textured bark that resembled a mouth, but as he listened, he thought he could discern small lines of orange and green light coursing around the tree’s surface. Lines that grew brighter as it spoke, charging the air with energy.

"I told you. The plants here are imaginary. They can do lots of things!" Rosalyn explained.

"But…this isn’t like your garden, Roz. This is real!"

"Wait," Justin broke in. "Do you mean to say they’re Maginaria?"

"Isn’t that what I said?"

"Of course," Aaron exclaimed softly, realization suddenly dawning. Forgetting his fear, the Levendish took several steps forward and addressed Elma directly. "You’re not actually the tree at all, are you? You’re one of them…you’re from the Maginary Plane."

Aaron’s mind began churning as he desperately tried to recall his limited knowledge on the subject. "And you instilled yourself……with a tree?!"

A moment of silence. "…Why?"

"You mean chroma. But I don’t understand, why a tree? I thought only living things like animals and…and people could produce chroma. How is it possible to instill a plant?

"Aaron! Plants are living things, silly," Rosalyn chided from behind. "And all living things produce at least a little chroma."

"Well…sure…but that still doesn’t answer my question," Aaron replied. "Why a tree? Wouldn’t…I mean wouldn’t you be better off with some kind of animal?"

"What do you mean? How can a simple plant give you what some other creature couldn’t?"

"Aaron, look around you," Rosalyn said again. "Can’t you feel it? This whole place is teeming with life. If every tree, every bush, every blade of grass growing here has a little bit of green chroma, can you imagine how much something like that has? Is it any wonder why a…Ma-gi-nar-i-a…as big as Elma would want to join with it? Is it any wonder why so many smaller Maginaria would gather around her for protection?"

Aaron found that he couldn’t argue with his sister’s logic, though he did wonder how she got to be so smart. "Alright, Peanut. I’ll buy that. Now answer me this, why did Elma kidnap you in the first place?"

"Well, usually Elma just ignores people like us. She thinks we’re boring and that we don’t pay any attention to her. But when I was by the river…I guess some of her friends heard me talking to them. No one’s ever spoken to Elma, or tried to listen to her before. I guess…maybe she was lonely and wanted a friend. Someone who could understand her."

"So she really didn’t want to hurt you, then?" Justin said, still a little nervous.

Rosalyn shook her head. "Once I found out how nice she was, we started talking. She told me how old she was and about all the different things that happen beneath her branches. In return, I told her about you, and the town, and about all the plants in our garden. I even came up with her name. From the trees that grow in Levend."

"I remember," Aaron said seriously. "So what you’re saying is that she knows everything about us. About what we do for a living."

Rosalyn sighed. "Yeah. But…when I asked how she felt about all those trees being cut down, she said it didn’t bother her."

"You’re kidding."

"No, really. She said the area beyond the river wasn’t her domain. That the trees over there weren’t ‘maginary like her and the others."

"And did you tell her that what’s happening over there is very likely going to occur on this side of the river as well?" Aaron asked. The comment sent a strong shudder through the surrounding vegetation, shaking leaves and branches violently. He took that as a ‘no.’

"What?! What are you talking about?!" Rosalyn asked, panic-stricken.

"C’mon, Peanut. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard people talking about the lumber shortage problem. Did you really think it would be long before we started cutting on the Ilmeeree’s west side?"

"But…the Cockatrices…"

"…Aren’t going to deter a man like Zandal Ardensen from getting what he wants. They may not like it, but it’s unlikely they’d go to war over it."

A horrified expression crept over Rosalyn’s face, while the trees continued their furious rattling. "No…Aaron, no. We can’t let them cut over here. We just can’t!"

"I’m sorry, Roz. What do you want me to do? The mayor’s got the whole town behind him, and the community needs this lumber to survive. They’re not just going to ignore it without a good reason."

"You don’t understand! Aaron, the reason why Elma doesn’t care much about the trees on our side of the river is because they’re just ordinary plants. But if the townsfolk start logging where the Maginaria live…then Elma will have no choice but to defend herself."

"What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that Quarrington’s in danger! Elma may be nice, but she’s very protective of the creatures in her domain. If people try cutting over here, they’re going to get killed! We have to warn them!" she said, tears streaming from her eyes.

Aaron sighed, trying to keep his sister calm by speaking in a low voice. "Alright, Roz, alright. We’ll make sure no one gets hurt. But first we have to get you home. Zandal’s got a search party out looking for you, and I think he means to tear apart every Cockatrice village in his path until he succeeds. Even then he may not stop."

Rosalyn sniffled, then nodded her head in understanding. Taking her and Justin by the hand, Aaron turned back towards the large tree. "Elma…we have to go now. We have to tell the others about you and make sure they don’t try to harm you. Please…let us pass."

For a long moment nothing happened. But once Rosalyn gave a silent okay, the vines parted, clearing a path behind them. In its center, Aaron’s knife lay waiting. The elder Levendish smiled in approval, then nodded to the tree one last time. "Thank you, Elma, for keeping my sister safe. I know you did all this because you wanted to talk to her, however…it might be a while before you see each other again."

The branches above rustled again, this time with a much softer rhythm. If Aaron didn’t know better, he’d say they had an odd sense of humor.

* * *

"Unbelievable! After everything those beasts, those demons put us through, how can you even suggest that we simply let them go? For crying out loud, they kidnapped your own sister!"

The mayor’s reaction, and his volume, hardly surprised anyone anymore. Aaron least of all. He, Rosalyn, and Justin returned to Quarrington just two hours after their encounter with Elma, and quickly set about finding someone to retrieve Zandal and his mob. They weren’t difficult to find. As Aaron suspected, the Cockatrices had automatically been fingered as the prime suspects in Roz’s disappearance, and the mayor had led his ‘rescue’ party on a direct path to their village. Dusk had fallen by the time everyone got back to town, and the square was buzzing with even more activity than before. Somehow, the townspeople knew their lives were about to change. No one dared retire before finding out how.

"How? Because for starters they won’t hurt us unless we do something to hurt them first," Aaron replied, addressing the crowd as much as the mayor. "Rosalyn’s safe and speedy return is proof of that. Keep in mind that these Maginaria have been living here far longer than we have. If they really wanted to harm us, they would have done so long before now."

"And yet they still sent you back here with the same demands as these despots," Zandal blasted back, pointing at the three Cockatrice chieftains standing off to the side. "The same insufferable logging restrictions that will spell the death of this town and everyone in it!" He punctuated this last remark with a wide, sweeping motion of his arms, catching a handful of supportive nods from the crowd. Most, however, were content to hear out both parties in silence, Rosalyn and Justin among them. The jubilation following their return was short lived before the enormity of their news was revealed. Now, a decision had to be made.

"Are you kidding me? Take a look around and tell me this place isn’t already dead. Logging on the river’s west side isn’t going to stop what you all know is inevitable. At best, it will only slow it down." Aaron paused for a moment before continuing. "I understand that this is a bitter potion for Quarrington to swallow, but the truth is we have no choice. The Maginaria are protecting their home the same way we would protect ours. The reason they’ve never revealed themselves before is because we’ve never been a threat to them before." He turned to look Zandal in the eyes. "If we persist in cutting down the trees they use for shelter, they will interpret it as an attack and defend themselves. And believe me, we’re not dealing with timid little creatures, here. The Maginaria we met with was huge, and very powerful. If it chose to retaliate, we would lose everything."

Zandal scoffed. "So you say. And I suppose your new friends have an alternative solution in mind? Or you, perhaps. Surely you don’t expect us to just sit here and slowly starve to death."

Aaron shook his head. "I…I don’t know. I don’t have any easy answers. But this town’s rebuilt itself from scratch before…perhaps it can be done again. In the short term we can log the area to the northeast. It’ll be hard work, but we can manage."

"And then what? You know we can’t manually haul lumber over that great a distance for long! I say we find this ‘Elma’ and negotiate with it directly. And if it won’t listen to reason, we fight its magic with a little magic of our own!"

From the mayor’s posturing, it seemed he was expecting a chorus of cheers at that point. What he got instead was some half-hearted applause and a lot of murmuring as the crowd talked amongst itself. Though no one actually stood up and said so, most people seemed to agree that Zandal’s proposal was too risky. That a little extra work was preferable to open combat with strange, plant-like monsters. Sensing a distinct lack of support, and little hope of swaying opinion back to his side, Zandal slowly edged his way out of the square, allowing the whispers around him to gradually build into open, chaotic discourse. Once clear of the courtyard, he stormed a path back to his manor, flashing a series of hand signals to a rough looking pair of Levendish, indicating for them to follow.

"Waz da matta, boss?" One of them asked, having been pulled by the collar into a darkened corner.

"Shut up and listen," Zandal snapped, still peering back at the assembled crowd. "I need you two to get a group of your people together. People you can trust. I need you to do it quickly, but quietly."

"No problem," the other Levendish replied. "But…what’s this all about?"

"Tell everyone to meet me at the manor house at midnight. I’ll explain the details on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"Into the jungle. We have work to do."

* * *

For his part, Aaron was also content to let the impromptu meeting conclude on its own. He wandered back toward the children, bidding Justin to return home with his parents and Rosalyn to wait while he took care of some final details. The Cockatrice chieftains stood a short distance away, looking as though they were waiting for him.

"I…suppose you’ll be heading back now," he said, feeling a little awkward about his comparatively short stature. "I mean, you got what you wanted, right? Nothing’s set in stone, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about our operations anymore. The issue…is a lot more complicated now."

The red-feathered chieftain tilted his head and blinked. "Indeed. Our people have long held legends about a powerful group of spirits dwelling within that part of the jungle. About extraordinary plants that think and move of their own accord. We call them ‘Dryads,’ and while we’ve always believed they existed, we never really knew for sure until today." The green Cockatrice nodded. "Legends say these spirits guide and protect those who are lost, and that it is our sacred duty to protect them in return. That duty must become more than superstition, now. It must become our mission. Our responsibility." The blue chieftain peered down at Aaron, a genuine look of gratitude forming along his features. "Though it was not your intent, we owe you a debt of thanks for your help. Were it not for your sibling’s perceptiveness, we might have been the ones to endanger the spirits’ domain; inadvertently dooming us all. She has…a special gift. And as her guardian, it falls on you to nurture that gift."

With that, he and his green colored companion spread their leathery wings and took to the air, on a course back to their village. As the last one was about to follow, he stopped and turned to Aaron again. "We will return in a few days to continue our negotiations. Despite what you may think, we’re not unsympathetic to your colony’s plight. In light of these events, we may consider expanding our trade. It is time we became more involved with the outside world, and this town’s seaside location makes such an arrangement…ideal." A moment and a whoosh of air later, the Cockatrice was gone. Soaring after his friends to the north.

Aaron watched as the trio disappeared into the crimson sky, then slowly walked back to where his sister was standing and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "C’mon, Roz. Let’s go home."

"Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"I’m sorry for causing so much trouble."

Aaron gave his sister a sidelong hug as they left the square. "It’s not your fault, Peanut. Sooner or later this would have happened anyway. And if not for you…things could have been a lot worse." He chuckled to himself and smiled down at her. "I’m sorry, I suppose I really shouldn’t call you that anymore. I know I’ve teased you a lot about all the time you spend tending your garden. But now…I think I finally understand what you’ve just always seemed to know."

"So…you’re really not mad at me?" Rosalyn asked, her voice picking up again. Aaron gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"No, sweetie, of course I’m not mad at you. In fact, I’m extremely impressed with the way you handled yourself back there. I can’t think of anyone better suited for talking to a Maginaria than you. I’m so proud of you." Aaron gave her a light kiss on the forehead, the chieftain’s words echoing in his mind. He always knew that Rosalyn had an affinity for plants, but after today it was clear she possessed something much more than that. The Cockatrice was right; she did have a gift. A special power to understand and relate to the world of growing things. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew that an ability like that must be nurtured and developed. Wasn’t there a school somewhere that dealt with things like that? Ah well, that wouldn’t be an issue for a few more years yet. He looked at her again with the faintest hint of a grin. "But if you ever run off without permission again…"

"Hee hee, I wont." Rosalyn giggled. A long moment of silence passed before either of them spoke again. "Aaron? Do you think…do you think mom would have liked to meet Elma?"

Aaron gave her another hug. "Yeah. I think she would have enjoyed that very much."

* * *

Long after the blazing sun had dipped below the horizon, the western regions of the jungle once again found themselves under assault from a man wielding a large knife. This time, however, the darkness served as no deterrent. And the damage was far more brutal.

The glow of a dozen torches lit up the area where Zandal Ardensen worked, moving alongside as he traveled. It was a glow accentuated with every swing of his chroma-enhanced sword, the light bouncing off his determined face in sinister patterns. The dense undergrowth was no match for the magical flames dancing along the length of the blade. Gigantic bushes and leaves fell easily before him, collecting into piles of charred, smoldering ash. Every so often, the mayor thought he could hear the faint sound of screaming, as though the jungle itself was crying out in pain. This brought a smile to his lips. It meant they were getting close.

"Sir, are you sure about this? What if those kids were right about those things?" came a voice from behind.

"Yeah," echoed another. "Deez ain’t no ordinary trees we’s up against. S’pose dey come after us wit dose vine things we wuz warned about? I ain’t never fought a magiwhatsit b’fore."

"Calm down, you fools. Those monsters wouldn’t dare attack us as long as we have these torches, so stay close and make certain they don’t go out." Zandal stopped to glance at the odd looking compass he carried, waving it around a little to make sure its reading was accurate. "Besides, it’s not the trees I’m interested in, or those things living inside them."

"It’s not? You mean…you really don’t want to sell them as some kind of magic lumber?"

"Of course not. I’ve got something far more valuable in mind. And if my hunch is correct, the only trees we’ll ever have to look at again will be swaying on the beaches of Maglatan." He looked up. "It’s this way, hurry. Bring the cart."

"Are you sure?" a third voice asked. "Maybe we should double-back and get our bearings. Or just wait till morning."

"Don’t be stupid. Trust me, we’re very close now," Zandal replied, continuing to torch a wide path with his fire sword.

"But…I dun get it. Close ta what? If we’s not after dat big tree, den why’re we out here?"

"Oh for cryin’ out…don’t you dolts know anything about the way magic works?" The ensuing silence was all the answer he needed. "Maginaria are attracted to the chroma produced by all living things," he explained, still slashing his way through the jungle. "Normally they just feed on whatever’s given off, but if the source is large and constant enough, they can merge or ‘instill’ themselves with the creature producing it. In doing so, they assure themselves a steady supply of food." The compass needle suddenly started vibrating, pointing through the trees as though something beyond were tugging it. The mayor quickened his pace. "But a Maginaria the size of the one that Taleson boy described wouldn’t be attracted to anything that wasn’t giving off massive amounts of chroma. The fact that it and hordes of other, smaller Maginaria have all gathered in the vicinity of that tree proves that it’s the focal point of a very large concentration of the stuff." He smiled as he brought his sword back for another swing. "And do you know what happens in places with large concentrations of chroma?" In a flash of fire and light, Zandal burned his way through the last twisted branches blocking his path, revealing precisely what he’d hoped to find. "Boys, we’re gonna be rich!"

Just beyond the opening lay a small clearing; smaller, even, than the one Aaron and the others had stumbled upon earlier. And in the center of this clearing, surrounded by a field of neatly arranged white flowers, stood a towering crystal spire of deep, luminescent green. Its shimmering, heptagonal structure rose from the ground like an elongated pyramid, only to split and branch out into many smaller crystalline structures about halfway up. Somehow, the object took on a decidedly tree-like appearance, in spite of its straight angles and smooth, glassy sides.

"It’s even bigger than I imagined," the mayor gawked, his voice filled with awe. He stepped into the clearing, smashing flowers in the dirt as he walked toward the towering monolith. "Probably extends deep underground, too. We’ll have to dig it out. Grab the shovels."

The others did as they were told, hesitantly following their leader into the open field. "I dunno. I dun like being out in the open like this."

"Stop whining and start shoveling. We’ll have to hurry if we want to catch the merchant ship scheduled to arrive tomorrow," Zandal shot back. He grabbed a tool from the back of the cart for himself, then went back to shouting orders. "You two get the ropes out and start setting those pulleys. The rest of us will fan out and dig the crystal up from all sides."

"Hey, where’s Svenson?" one of the men asked.

"I thought he was with you," said another.

"Maybe he got lost?"

"Then he’ll just have to catch up later," Zandal shouted. "C’mon, get to work."

"Wha… now Korin’s gone."

The mayor turned away, stabbing his shovel into the ground and scooping out the first load of earth. "Never mind them. The cowards probably ran off. Now, are the rest of you going to help me with this, or would you rather spend the rest of your lives rotting in that miserable hole of a town?" Again, the silence that followed seemed to be all the answer he needed. "That’s what I thought."

Zandal began digging in earnest, his thick arms and powerful back heaved the mossy soil away with ease. It took him only half a minute to form a rather sizable crater, but his efforts ceased when he realized no one was helping.

"Didn’t you hear me?! I said…" The Levendish cut himself off the moment he spied the abandoned cart. He looked left, then right, peering as deep into the surrounding wilderness as he could to no avail. They were gone. His entire crew, all personally handpicked from the local workforce, had vanished without a trace. Zandal stepped away from the crystal, calling out to them. This time, their lack of a response was less encouraging.

When he finally stopped shouting, The mayor noticed just how chillingly silent the clearing had become. The irregular pounding of wheels and footsteps that had become so familiar along the way was now gone. Even the disturbed screeches of the local wildlife had disappeared. All that remained was the sound of rustling treetops swaying gently in the wind. Only there was no wind. Zandal tried to ignore his rapidly beating heart, rationalizing that he couldn’t do the job alone, and therefore had no reason to stay. He quickly retreated back to the wide path he had blazed through the jungle, only to watch in horror as it began closing up again. Limbs, vines, and leaves stretched and intertwined, sealing the wide-eyed Levendish behind an impenetrable wall of vegetation.

"No……No!"

The rustling grew louder, and seemed to come from all directions. Through some unseen force the torches dropped by the mayor’s men began winking out, slowly shrouding the area in darkness. Zandal hastily reached for his magic sword, igniting the blade with chroma and surrounding himself with light. The rustling transformed into a hideous roar the trees danced violently around him. He sensed danger.

"Where are you? Show yourself!" He shook his head, trying to negate the sudden sense of vertigo. Was the clearing actually closing in on him, or did it just seem that way? He took a few shaky steps back, waving his sword at the jungle threateningly before bumping into something behind him, something large and organic. Zandal whirled and gasped, eyes bulging in terror as he stared into the face of a creature more than three times his height. It stood upon four, evenly spaced legs, and looked as though it had been torn from the jungle itself. The monster’s head and body were one in the same; a bulbous, sunflower-like tangle of weeds split in half by a gaping mouth that stretched from one side to the other.

Zandal raised his sword in panic, but it was already too late. The creature lashed out with several arm vines, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the blade fell to the ground. The chunk of red chroma lodged in the weapon’s side popped free, squelching the flames and plunging the field into darkness once more. The last thing Mayor Zandal Ardensen ever saw was the creature’s massive grin, revealing its many rows of sharp teeth, and the dark pit that was its gullet.