On Death and Locals

With the sun’s first rays, the early birds’ songs, the morning dew Lucy awoke. It’s been three weeks since Leshii helped her rid this world of the horrible menace that was the evil necromancer, and two weeks she had lived in what she could only believe was the spirit’s home. It was a hole in the ground underneath a great oak tree, but it did not lack furniture, for the forest spirit knew humanity’s customs. There was a lonely bed, a small table, a single chair, and in the middle was a fireplace with a cauldron suspended above it. In it was an everlasting bubbling concoction smelling of stew. She did not dare ask the ancient being of what was boiling below the murky surface in fear of learning what it was.

Leshii, as Lucy found for herself, was a creature of tradition. It was millenia old and in its own twisted way it grew accustomed to the races all around the continent of Drevzold and tried to fit them the best it could. It would appear rarely to whoever visited the forest, it would be both sly and generous, it would speak the language common to the person it showed itself to, instead of speaking the ancient language of the plants and animals. Leshii thought itself kind and just, the creature required to keep the balance of nature in check, the protector of all things living from the tiniest of grass blades and mice to the tallest pine trees and largest bears. Not a single person under the watchful eye of Leshii, who dared to come into the forest with any but good intentions, would suffer his wrath. And yet, the spirit was not all-powerful. It could not do its bidding all alone, for only its physical form could take on the challenges of protecting the living creatures of its domain, and such form has limitations just as any other animal. And so, inspired by the stories of races all across Drevzold, Leshii many centuries ago began a new tradition. From time to time, as the forest grew, and people died, the spirit would kidnap a soul it deemed worthy of keeping the forest safe. It would lavish the person in gifts, give them a home to stay, and most importantly the task of a life time: to keep the forest safe, love all things living, and keep those who wished the forest harm out. But all of this responsibility came at a price, that the person would never leave or ever try to speak with those deemed unworthy of Leshii’s task.

Lucy became one of those people. A simple moment of kindness towards another living creature has sealed her fate and made her prisoner of the forest. Most vile of all, Leshii was fond of her and others of her station. It promised her that it would give her powers to keep watch over the forest, but it could only be done through by dedicating one’s life towards another. Lucy was not sure what it meant, but deep inside she knew that she was not yet ready for such a decision, but Leshii would not take no for an answer. The spirit did not force her to take on this vow just yet, but it told her of others, who were tasked the same as her. Some of them took years to come around, and all accepted its deal, devoting their lives towards the being and the protection of the forest. It knew that sooner or later, Lucy would give in, but for now it shall leave her be, to get comfortable in her new home and get to know the forest closely, so she would find solace in her situation. Then it left, and for the past week Lucy was left alone.

Her time here wasn’t full of hardships as she expected. She had met and made friends with a couple of hares and bunnies, shared what vegetables she could find with them. She listened to birds’ songs, the whistling of the forest breeze, the creaking of ancient trees. There were small rivers, a green pond with fish, toads, and flies, beautiful flowers, apple trees, birches. Lucy had nothing to complain about and could only be thankful for her quaint quiet life, and yet she wasn’t. Something deep inside her was tearing her soul apart, nagging that this was wrong, unsatisfying, cruel. She missed her village, she missed what little friends she had, she missed the kids running amok, she missed the farmhands, the cattle, and most of all she missed her family. She even missed the elder, Wallace, who warned her not to go with the adventurers, to leave them be, to leave her family unavenged. She even considered that Wallace was at least partially correct, for the revenge on the necromancer was not as satisfying as she hoped for, perhaps, as she thought, because she did not witness the downfall of the wizard herself. She was only certain of the death and hardships she had to go through to achieve this goal were far too great for her to bear alone, and there was Leshii providing an opportunity to forget these horrors and find a new meaning in life, even if it was to be her last.

Young Lucy felt every hour turn to day, and every day turn into a week. She ate her fill, helped the animals around, made sure that the damaged trees could grow back to their previous strength by patching the axe cuts and unused woodpecker nests with what she could only assume was moss. Her time here grew monotonous very quickly, and just as quickly she tried to find solace in this newfound life. Leshii was away and she felt relieved that she did not need to accommodate its every need and, most disturbingly, wish. It was maybe a week and a half since anything exciting happened to her, as she saw a large dark cloud somewhere far to the south, too far for her to get there in time. From what she remembered, there was a bog in the same direction, but no one from her village ever ventured there in fear of drowning. On the next day the cloud was gone. Lucy suspected it was Leshii’s doing, but she could not be sure of it.

Today, however, was a different day. It started just like any other: she woke up with the rays of the sunrise, ate her breakfast from the stew pot, and left the safety of the house to look for animals to help. A hare here, a squirrel there, she helped them as much as she could. Along the path Lucy also picked some berries and mushrooms to add to the pot, as well as a bucket of water, which Leshii told her was brought into these lands by a long-dead dwarf. Back then, the spirit told her, it was skeptical of any unnatural invention, those born of fire and steel, and not of time and growth. The dwarf made itself a home in the very same stump and started the very same stew that was now everboiling in the middle of the living quarters. Leshii carefully watched the strange character, who seemed to live a solitary life, unlike the humans not so far from here. However, be it time, or the dwarf’s solidarity towards nature, or even both, the spirit showed itself to him, and made the dwarf the first guardian of the local forest. Leshii could not tell Lucy how much time has passed since, as it did not care for the world’s customs of keeping time, but it did say that besides Lucy and this dwarf there were five more people, who resided here: two elves and three humans. They were chosen personally by Leshii and each brought their own view of what the forest should be, of which the spirit approved of. The young lady was confused, as for her the forest has always been the same: the trees grew densely together, leaving barely any space for groves and roads, full of mushrooms and berry bushes, with the ground loose enough for the animals to dig homes for themselves. And the ancient being said that it was all true, but each element was introduced by these guardians. The dwarf brought the mushrooms, the elves brought the dense trees, the humans introduced roads and groves. The only reason why Lucy knew only one forest in her life was probably that she was born long after the previous human who lived here died.

The young lady, or druid, as she started calling herself, continued the search for a project to work on. It’s been a week since she decided to find such a hobby, but she had no luck with that. All she could think of doing, building a small house, a fence, starting a garden, or anything else of the sort would disturb the delicate balance of the local nature, and Lucy was too afraid of angering the forest spirit, who specifically told her not to do so. Fishing and hunting was out of the question, as that was the predators’ prerogative. Perhaps, she could walk around spreading what seeds she could find, including pine, birch, and apple trees, berry bushes and a variety of flowers, but as not to disturb the local plants too much by carefully planting them, she simply went through the forest and threw them in every which direction. Overall, this was not so much a hobby, as a mind numbing task that only caused Lucy to become even more agitated.

Finally, she came across a dirt path in the middle of the trees. There was nothing special about it, but for an occasional fallen branch or leaf that littered the floor. However, Lucy hesitated and stopped right before it. This was something she had been thinking of every single day, when Leshii first gave her a place to live. She had been thinking of leaving this place, leaving Leshii and its pointless task, going back to her village, being celebrated for her victory over evil, mourning the loss of two great men, going back to her old way of life. At the same time, she was afraid of what the forest spirit would do to her, her friends, her village. Would it destroy them all? Would it leave them be? Something in between? These questions had too many unknowns for her mind to think about, to consider what wrath could be brought down upon them, for the ancient beings were cruel in their punishment. And so far, she could not bring herself to do so. She was too scared, too afraid of the possible consequences, and she hated herself for that. However, today was a different day. Perhaps, it wouldn’t be too bad if she just came by her village without going inside to greet them. Perhaps, she could view her old life from the outside, see what everyone was up to: if the children who ran amok were running with a bit more pep in their step, if the adults bore smiles on their faces instead of those grim expressions she got used to, perhaps even Wallace would look grateful for what she accomplished. Without the necromancer, there was no reason to be afraid, sad, anxious. Today Lucy decided to step on this dirt path and head back home, even if just to take a glimpse of what she could have had, if it was not for Leshii.

The druid took a deep breath and headed east. She knew the direction, thanks in part to her village neighbors who taught her that moss always grew on the northern side of tree trunks. She walked on the path for hours, but she knew that it would take her days to reach her old home. As if in trance she continued spreading the seeds from her pockets all over the path and beyond it. She was getting tired, but determination kept her up as well as her pace. Finally, when the sun hid behind the jagged treetops, Lucy decided that she would need to rest for the night. Opting not to anger Leshii even more by starting a fire in the middle of the forest, she found a hole, where she could take shelter and sleep. And in the middle of the night, she heard two voices, as they were approaching from the same direction she did.

At first, they were faint, hard to hear the words said, but with every moment they got closer. Lucy did not leave her hole in fear of being seen, and so she listened carefully, trying to drink in every spoken word, getting drunk on social interaction she was forbidden to have. But as the strangers got closer, she realized what poison she was presented with, as the words became intelligible.

“You sure Chardy’s gonna be there?” asked one voice. It was gruff, accented of a dwarven variety, but lacked the vocabulary of the stone-dwelling peoples.

“For all you know, she can! So stop complaining!” This was a much shriller voice, as if the speaker was always trying to complain about the unfairness of life. At the same time, it was full and grandiose. Overall, this person must have been selfish and full of themselves.

“I aint complaining, ya undead bastard! We’ve been walking there for a week straight, and all there is are trees and buggering animals! I just wanna know if all this is worth the fecking effort, or if I should chop your head off on the spot?”

Undead? What did that mean? Lucy was getting confused and concerned. Who were these people? What were they trying to achieve here? Each question was only followed by more, and they kept piling up on top of one another. She wanted… No, she needed answers to those questions, and in order to satisfy her curiosity she slowly crept outside of the hole she was sleeping in, and headed towards the nearby road. There she saw the view that horrified her to the very bottom of her soul. Right there, walking no farther than fifty feet away from her were four figures. One was small and thin, covered in a dark cloak, and from under the hood two red eyes were watching the second person. That person was also on the shorter side, but his physique could rival that of a dwarf in their prime years of mining. He bore an axe strapped to his back, and was wearing what she could only assume were leather pants. But these two were nothing more than little fear appetizers before the grand meal. Following them was a hulking muscular figure, tall, broad, strong and next to him a frail little skeleton was trying to keep up with it. The larger creature was wearing a helmet and a loincloth, but Lucy recognized the figure immediately. It was Grognark. The very same Grognark whom she saw be cut in half, and whom she let be taken by the undead horde of the necromancer. The same necromancer, whom she was sure was killed! Whose layer Leshii has destroyed! And if Grognark was still here, it could only mean that the necromancer was still around. And the only candidate for such a diabolical figure, the one who would dare hold raids against her village, the one who was responsible for killing her parents and her friends, was the cloaked person, leading the party.

Lucy felt sick. She wanted to throw up, but she had nothing to do so with, nor did she want to alert the group passing by. She stood still, holding her breath for longer than she ever did, and she listened, and did so carefully.

“It matters not if this endeavor is worth it or not! Not for you, you sniveling mongrel! No matter if it brings you closer to that backstabbing snake Chardra, this expedition is garner back the strength of my army! And we wouldn’t need to attempt it, if you did not make that lizard creature stronger than ever before!”

The small man stayed silent for a moment, thinking of his next words. “I swear to the Gods and the Devils, if ye call Chardra a snake or me a mongrel, your head will be lying at the bottom of a ditch, before we even reach that village.”

And Lucy’s heart dropped to the bottom of her feet.