The Heart of the Wildlands

My 1st Wildlands one-shot is published! Check Out Mystery of Thorngage Manor

Written by George Sanders

The tin-like rattling whirled around my head. On each spiral, it paused to ring by my left ear. It was a spirit. An ancient spirit. I couldn't make out what it had to say because, in the background, it was joined by a cacophony of drums. The beating presence of each living creature in the forest. For now, putting one foot in front of the other would be a victory. Eventually, I will be able to hear what the spirit has to say.

 

Wherever I traveled, the noise of life was there. However, after splitting from my body, my tree, the confusion caused by that omnipresent noise all but crippled me. I recognized I had been pulled apart and imprisoned, but I did not need any cage. All I was became lost in a bubble that could not be pierced from the inside.

 

The street's stone that provided the path for my walk today offered a warm embrace. But they had nothing to say. The drums still beat, and the spirit rang, but not so franticly. I had learned to wield calm like a shield. Calm could slice and sort the noise like a blade. Each step, another victory.

 

Another rhythm tapped upon the stones, a harmony from the wildlands. Beside me walked one of my rescuers. His gait held calmness, too. It was he who had reached into my bubble and carried me to safety. He pierced the curse with ease. Perhaps his calm helped, but at the core of it, he believed he had found something special. He believed it unconditionally. I found a new purpose in my rescuers and embraced them in return wholeheartedly.

 

Today, he expressed some concern over this enthusiasm. That might of been his motivation for joining me on my walk. Learning how to work with everyone in this community has been a challenge. His counsel was needed.

 

"Lavani, I wanted to talk to you about the Arrows."

 

He was a good leader. Each of those in his charge received his attention. They were lifted up to excel in new ways. His feet shuffled to a new rhythm. It wasn't disappointment, not fear, more like the worry of the inevitable.

 

He continued speaking. "Last night , everyone in the town was in danger. You summoned the Arrows to the roofs. If things had decayed into a fight, some of them would have died."

 

He was the best kind of leader. "Ardelis, I won't let them die. This is my domain now. Glain holds no power here."

 

His unconditional faith came with something so amazing, but I don't think he could see it yet. As my presence expanded across the forest, he brought free will into my domain. His faith in me never waivered, even as he challenged and counseled me. I felt the tug of responsibility shaping the space around me, a powerful magic in its own right and worthy of our domain.

 

He wanted to be sure I heard him. "Death is a permanent thing. I'm not sure that was your experience before..."

 

I needed to reassure him. "It is true. Until I came here, I don't think I understood death. I hear what you are saying. I will be careful in what I ask of the community."

 

To be honest, he may be the one that doesn't understand. I will need to guide him step by step because, inside my bubble, death is not as permanent a thing as he expects. Each step will be a victory.


 

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Cover image: Forest During the Daytime by Tim Mossholder

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