17-2
As he made his way into the forest village, he grew more and more humble from the stature of the buildings. He always felt small around natively born forest people, but when around their villages he felt positively puny. The earlier and older homes towards the centre grew taller and sturdier over time.
The growth of the roots raised the floors of the structures off the ground, while the branches that made up the floors themselves thickened. Steps were required to enter the mature homes. The more ambitious of the forest people would sometimes coax a second story out of these grand dwellings. This created oddly-shaped structures as the builders worked with the natural bends of the branches.
Towards the centre of the village, the tree houses changed from stately and impressive abodes to truly mammoth creations. These oldest structures grew so thick the openings of their first level were closed shut and stairs were built to wind up to doors on the second level. The base of these homes appeared outwardly as an enormous square tree trunk but hidden within were often secret stores and labs. Only members of his Order with the proper knowledge of magic could access these arboreal lairs.
At the heart of the village was an out-of-place mud-brick building sitting in the middle of the surreal village. The heavy thatch hanging over the edge of its roof made the building look even more squat among the giant tree structures.
It was Vantaiga’s childhood home. When their forest spread and people began to settle in the area, Syffox had raised it out of the sand as a gift for her. Although she appreciated his effort, she didn’t spend much time in it. So Syffox used it for his own followers who wished to learn the ways of his lost people. It was also where he could find his oldest apprentice and friend.
Syffox knocked on the door and almost immediately, it opened to Mackyntal’s glowing face, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway. “Master! The trees told me you were coming. Come in! Come in!”
Syffox stepped through the door and hugged the large man. “It’s been a long time. You’re looking well.”
Mackyntal ushered him in as he took his quiver and bow. “I’ve been practising your longevity techniques.”
The fox that still accompanied Syffox stepped through the door but then stopped. It sniffed the air nervously and then turned and trotted back into the forest. Syffox tried to question the fox, but it only replied that it couldn’t stay as it disappeared into the blackness. Disappointed, Syffox watched it leave before turning back to Mackyntal.
Mackyntal directed Syffox to a chair made of polished, curved twigs and branches with an animal fur thrown over for comfort. The chair sat at the end of a heavy table made of split tree trunks and decorated with carvings of people and animals and plants of all kinds. The room had been much improved upon since Vantaiga’s childhood. Glowing magic spheres dotted the corners, bathing the two men in a welcoming light.
Wooden shelves and compartments lined the walls and displayed curious artefacts, both magical and mundane. Among them were carved statues and tablets of stone and wood depicting notable events and people of the forest. Syffox’s eyes came across a new addition to Mackyntal’s collection of curiosities. It was a set of eleven wooden figures, Vantaiga and the ten devoted followers who had offered themselves to become the Goddess. A sadness clutched Syffox’s chest as he noted a gap where there should have been a twelfth figure.
Stolen story; please report.
He returned his attention to Mackyntal, who was crossing the room towards a barrel mounted on the home’s original clay counters. “So how has the forest been keeping since I left?”
With his head almost grazing the ceiling, the large forest dweller did not fit well in a home built by Vantaiga’s desert parents. “It is recovering well from Vantaiga’s absence. We have been dealing with an outburst of biting insects that the two of you brought back. It would seem our bug-free days in the forest are over.” Mackyntal withdrew a wooden cup from a compartment and unstopped the keg of ale. The foaming brown liquid tumbled into the vessel.
Syffox sighed as he waited in anticipation for the creamy froth to rise to the top of the mug. “It’s a gift of Festor’s to the forest, I’m afraid. I really wish I hadn’t brought that upon you.”
Mackyntal laughed him off. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just have Vantaiga whip up something that can eat them.”
His cheerfulness didn’t work, and Syffox fixed his gaze on him. “Seriously, I wish I hadn’t brought them upon you.”
Mackyntal peered at him in concern. “I could imagine.” He placed a filled mug in front of Syffox.
Syffox took a sip of the foam and savoured it as Mackyntal poured his own. “Mmm, I missed your brews, Mackyntal.” He put the mug down, looking at it with a hint of sadness. “But I think I need something stronger today.”
Mid-sip, Mackyntal paused. He set his mug down. “Yes, Master.” He retrieved a ceramic flask and two small glasses from another compartment. He sat at the table and filled the two glasses with a clear amber liquid. Syffox took one while Mackyntal took the other. They raised their glasses as Syffox toasted, “To your potions!” He threw back his glass and swallowed it in a gulp. He shuddered while putting the glass down on the table.
Mackyntal’s look became even more concerned as he took a sip of his own glass. Syffox ignored the look and reached forward to take Mackyntal’s glass from him. “How is your apprentice coming along these days?”
Mackyntal sat back in his chair with a knowing smile, but his shoulders dropped in disappointment. “He’s doing well. He’s quite skilled. Shall I get him?”
Syffox nodded. “Yes, please.” He raised his glass and slammed back a second gulp. Once his shuddering stopped, he added, “And your tools as well.”
Mackyntal rose from the chair with a nod. “Yes, of course. One moment.”
Syffox poured himself a third glass as Mackyntal left the room. This time he only sipped the harsh liquid as the warmth of the previous two drinks spread throughout his limbs. By the time the old priest returned with a younger one, the warmth had reached Syffox’s face. His vision wobbled, and it took him a moment to realise that only two people entered the room.
Mackyntal gestured to the younger man to sit next to Syffox. “This is my apprentice, Drael.”
The young man briskly sat down next to Syffox. “I’m honoured to finally meet you, Your Highness.” He was a thin man with light brown hair and the fine features of youth. He wasn’t as tall as Mackyntal, which Syffox thought was fortunate, otherwise he would be bumping his head on the ceiling.
Syffox chuckled. “Not high anymore. Mackyntal is the head of the Order now. I’m just a wandering priest. But I am glad to meet you as well. I’ll have you know Mackyntal is an excellent teacher. I hope you pay close attention to him.”
“Of course, my lord. I do. And you—I would love to learn from you as well.”
Syffox waved his hand. “No, I’m not a good teacher. It’s a testament to Mackyntal’s patience he was able to learn anything from me.” Syffox filled a glass and passed it to the younger apprentice while Mackyntal unravelled a leather roll on the table. Drael took the glass but cast a questioning look to his mentor before taking a sip. Mackyntal gave a consenting nod as he finished unfurling his roll of tools. Displayed before them was an array of small knives, saws, chisels, hammers, and a few leather straps. He lifted the straps and offered them to Syffox.
Syffox shook his head and downed his glass of distilled spirits. After the stinging faded from his throat and the warmth settled in his stomach, he looked mischievously at Drael. “Have you done many rituals before?”
Drael nodded. “I have done a few small ones—potions and bindings mostly.”
“You’re in for a treat, then.”
Mackyntal interrupted him. “And what treat is that, Master?”
