“I heard your fellow Groveham citizens crying out for help as their homes were damaged and set ablaze . . . and I see you sitting there, complicit in the deacon’s arrogant stupidity, compounding the damages hour by hour of a situation already out of your combined control.” He flicked his gaze over the gaping guardsman, then over at his equally slack-mouthed companion. “Tell the good deacon that when he is ready to admit he cannot handle the Grove, I will step in and bring it back into line.
“But tell him to hurry. The longer the Grove runs unchecked, the harder it will be even for a powerful mage-priest such as myself, or even the Keeper, to contain what he has let loose upon this town . . . and the surrounding countryside . . . and its neighboring lands, and their neighbors.”
Returning to his cot, Aradin stretched out on it, wondering how much more of Shanno’s madness the people of Groveham could take, and trying to let go of his mounting anger over the whole mess.
(I swear, if I didn’t trust Orana to bring back the true word of the local Goddess in this matter, I’d be doing a lot more than just “ride the wave to save the trees.”)
(Actually, it’s “ride the wave to calm the trees,”) Teral corrected him. (But if the little snot does get his head out of his rectum, you and I had best be prepared to counter all the madness out there.)
(It shouldn’t be too difficult for most of it,) Aradin sighed, thinking of the things he and Teral and Saleria had learned over the last few weeks. About the magic of the Grove, how it had gone wild, how it affected the denizens of the Sacred Garden, and how that magic was still tied to the three distinct resonances of each locus-tree’s rift. (Between you and me, we should be able to control two thirds of anything that comes of there.)
(Unless it’s one of the two-rift mutations, or an exceptionally rare one-rift variety. If it’s one of Saleria’s, we’ll have half or little chance at controlling it via our attunement to its rift-energies.)
(Oh, thank you. You’re such a warm and shiny ray of positive thinking,) Aradin mocked.
(I’m dead. I’m allowed to be gloomy from time to time. Though I prefer the term “pragmatic,”) Teral replied. (Besides, normally you mock me for being optimistic.)
(True.)
* * *
The people of Groveham didn’t wait for the next day. Within an hour of the treeman’s badly thwarted rampage, they flocked to the entrances of the guard hall and shouted for answers, for assistance, and for Aradin’s release. Finally, the captain of the guard, the same mage-warrior who had silenced Aradin’s voice, stalked into the basement and snatched the keys from one of the two men on duty.
“Damned citizens . . . damned deacon . . . Damned Department of Temples,” he muttered, approaching the door. “Get out here, foreigner. You’re being given one shot at proving you can tame the Grove. Nobody else in this town is strong enough as a mage, not even me.”
Aradin uncurled himself from the cell cot, grateful he had chosen to use the facilities a few moments ago and didn’t have to stop for that now. The not even me made him look closer at the other man. Soot smeared his armor, and blood stained his tabard, a slightly fancier version than the other guards’ covering. Some of it seemed to be the captain’s own, for he had a fresh pink scar on his chin, the kind that said someone had applied some Healer’s magic to seal it, though not quite enough to render it completely smooth. Another session or two might heal it scarlessly, if he had the time to spare for that.
“I’ve also heard how you broke my silencing spell somehow, so you’re bound to be incredibly powerful. If you are what you say you are, then you will put that power to work protecting Groveham and restoring the Grove to a contained menace rather than a rampant one,” the captain added, unlocking the door. He didn’t swing the barred grille open yet, though, choosing to instead fix Aradin with a hard look. “Fail, and I will kill you myself. I can kill men far easier than those giant walking trees.”
“I am the Gods-appointed assistant to Her Holiness Saleria, Keeper of the Sacred Grove. I am everything I have said, and more,” Aradin said calmly.
The guard swung the door open. “Hold out your hands, so I can remove the anti-magic cuffs.”
Aradin stepped through, then reached into one deep sleeve and pulled out the pink silk bag Josai had given him, unwinding the cords wrapped around its neck.
“I have stayed a guest of that cell for only one reason. I respect the word passed to me by Kata Herself that Deacon Shanno has needed a lesson in humility. If you have a problem with the disasters that have plagued Groveham, blame him for his arrogant choices, and the consequences therein. It was his choice to interrupt my solemn duties, weakening and ruining the protections woven by the Keepers of the Grove for the last two centuries . . . and your choice to assist him in making all of this happen.”