The villagers are a hardy group, but they are frightened. Rumors have spread among them of the coming Southern Darkness. A child’s tale, but one that has taken root with them. I pleaded with the elder to lead the people, to succor their fears, but he has given in to defeat.
It has fallen to me to find the answers to the signs.
The shepherd’s son saw one when the linden was struck. He was driving the herd in early because the wind had shifted from the west to the south. He knew a storm was coming. He tells the tale that the bolt was shaped like a sword, that it drove straight to the heart of the tree. No one else saw this, but he is a trustworthy lad and no one questioned him.
We have tales of the Nature spirits making themselves known in this manner. Sword shaped lightning, shield-walls of water forming in the eastern lands, fiery hands reaching down from mountain tops - in such ways the spirits make their presence felt.
Many believe we have somehow angered the spirits. That the lightning sword was sent to punish us for growing away from the old ways. They say that we must begin the sacrifices again.
I disagree. I too, have seen signs that need answers.
The wound in the linden revealed a rot in the tree’s core. The tree had been dying already before the spirits sent their sword. The heart of the tree was black and stank of death. Elder Jared took this to mean our doom. He said that the tree had abandoned us long ago and that the Sky Spirit was just finishing the job.
Again, I disagree.
The wound in the tree revealed something more. Something no one else saw but me and it is why I left the village yesterday.
Deep within the wound, buried in foul rot, I saw a glint of blue. Reaching in, I pulled out a stone of clear blue the size of the nail on my small finger. It was warm and I could feel it pulse like a heart. This, I knew, was the heart of the tree and it still lived for it spoke to me. Not in words but it showed me a vision of a linden tree so big, so alive and so ancient I knew that I was seeing a Nature Spirit in its true form.
And so, I left the village yesterday. I told no one about the stone or what it showed me, only that I was seeking help from some of the larger settlements further north.
I mean to find the Tree Spirit and get answers. I believe it can help.
And if the rumors of the Southern Darkness are true, I may not have much time.
I am traveling light. Anything I need I can find on my way. I have my staff, bone knife, a fire stone, some dried venison and my herb pouch. Rabbit pelts hang at my waist and the wolf my father brought down when I was young and turned into a blanket, I have draped over my shoulders. In this way I have started my journey.
The first few days were easy going. The spirits were kind, offering good traveling weather. I was able to find enough roots and berries to satisfy my hunger on the first day. On the second, I caught a hare and had fresh meat that night. All was well.
The silence of the forest can lead one to contemplation. I was never a hunter like my father. My lameness kept me close to the village. I was looked down upon by my peers when I was young and the other elders struggled to find a useful place for me in the village. I believe that Elder Jared took pity on me and suggested I learn the healing arts. The other elders balked at the idea of a boy learning women’s work, but somehow, Elder Jared convinced them.
At first, my new situation led to an increase in the jeers and taunting from the other boys, but after I helped one of them set a broken arm, promising not to tell that the accident happened while they were at the forbidden cave, I earned a slight amount of respect from them.
As I grew and learned more about herbs and potions, curing fevers and the Red Death, I surpassed the teachings of the Wisewoman. I continued my education alone, often trying new herbs and remedies on myself - sometimes with ill effects. Soon, I was the village Healer and people from neighboring villages came to seek my care.
I worry what will happen to the people of my home while I am gone. Their lives are in my care.
Saving the linden will save my people.
The third day’s journey had been as easy as the others. The forest was green with life, moss clinging to the huge trees while the filtered sunlight danced green at my feet. I was following a meandering brook in a northward direction. The summer sun was warm, but the canopy of green kept me cool, as did frequent jaunts into the brook.
That evening as I sat before my meager fire, listening to the babble of the brook, I stared into the linden stone. The firelight danced on the blue facets and once again, I could feel the stone pulse much like my own heart. I could feel a warm breeze touch me, though the fire remained unwavering. It smelled of spring and warmth. I could hear the light rustling of the heart-shaped linden leaves. Like a hammer, my nose was assailed by the cloyingly sweet smell of a linden and my mind could then see my tree, in full bloom, full of health and life.
The tree grew in my vision, as if I approach it or it was moving towards me. Neither stopped and I slammed into the tree, it’s bark enveloping me in a woody embrace. I sank deep into the tree and could feel it’s life as if it was my own. My arms and fingers were it’s branches, rising to the sun, pulsing with life-giving sap. My feet stretched down into the earth, seeking water, supporting my majestic body.
I could feel through the earth all the others. Every linden tree in the world. All connected, all sharing in the life of earth. I could feel also the Darkness. It was there, out on the edges, slowing eating away at the trees.
They were dying!
They were all dying!
I jerked awake. I had been dozing. My fire had burned to cinders and the night was complete.
It was a sound that woke me. A snapping of a twig.
There! Leaves rustled!
It was upon me in half a heartbeat. A large, foul-smelling beast with breath that ranked of rotted meat. It grappled with me, pinned me down.
It had me instantly, but it didn’t go for the kill. Rearing back, I could see it was a man - one taken by the forest. I had heard of his type, a wilder.
It was said that wilders are those who the forest spirits touch too hard. So much so, that they forsake the village life and live among the spirits.
This one must have been taken when no more than a child. He was more beast than man. Naked but hairy, he stank of being unwashed. He was thin, almost bones, but as strong as a mountain. I could not move.
He began pawing at me as if searching for something. He found my herb pouch and tearing it from me, spilled the contents on the ground.
“No!” I shouted while renewing my efforts at freedom.
The wilder clamped his legs against my sides harder and continued to search me despite my efforts.
When he found my dried venison, he got up and attacked it with vigor. I immediately tried to salvage my herbs, but they were too scattered. I would have to harvest more.
“What have you done?” I said to the creature. “My herbs are gone!”
The wilder looked at me and swallowed. He smiled slowly, revealing only black and rotted teeth.
“You will need not your herbs, Healer,” the wilder spoke. “The spirits will provide for you as they did for me,” and he held up my venison as proof while still smiling.
