The Magicoskeletal System
By Eric Kao
Estimated read time: 58 minutes
Tiricah nestled himself in the crevice of the guardian tree between a stout branch and the trunk, his usual spot. Maybe one day, he’d walk along the branches as nimbly as Kelyan. He glanced at the ground, only ten feet away, and his head swam. No, no, no, screw that. Sweat sapped into the leather glove he wore on his left hand at all times and he jerked his head back up. Damn trees, may the bones take them all!
He was coming into his sixteenth summer—and as far back as he could remember, every one of the previous fifteen summers had been filled with a fear of heights and righteous indignation that his people all loved climbing trees so much. What was so great about them anyway?
“Cursing trees again, are we?” Kelyan hopped onto the mid-section of the branch Tiricah sat on, causing panic-inducing bobbing. Kelyan’s arms windmilled as he balanced himself with a delighted laugh. What he found so delightful about possibly falling to his death, Tiricah would never understand.
“No, just thinking.” Tiricah forced a smile as Kelyan scurried closer. He always felt a little more at ease when Kelyan was nearby. Envy bubbled up in Tiricah at how easy Kelyan’s movements looked. Despite his lanky frame, Kelyan practically loped through the branches. His long blonde hair proved no hindrance, though a few leaves were tangled in it in a way that made Tiricah’s fingers itch. One day… one day, he’d walk along the branches, too. Tiricah clenched his left hand, the leather glove drawing taut around the back of his hand. These trees—damnable as they were—held something great for him. He could feel it. He’d bind his will to the guardian trees like no one ever had before.
Kelyan gracefully leaped up and caught an overhanging branch. He fluttered his feet, luxuriating in the stretch. Just watching him dangle made Tiricah’s pulse accelerate. Kelyan laughed at Tiricah’s sick expression and released his right hand. He held on with only his left hand and his sleeve fell back, exposing his arm in its entirety. Kelyan’s entire left arm was skeletal, completely bare of muscle, sinew, or flesh. The finger bones curled powerfully around the branch and he waved at Tiricah with his flesh hand. “Oh, come on! Try, for skull’s sake.” He dropped back to the branch and nodded to Tiricah’s glove. “Not everyone is born with the magicoskeletal system.”
Tiricah brushed his left thumb over his middle finger, feeling the familiar contours of his bones under the glove. Kelyan was right, of course. But his power was much cooler—and physically intuitive. Tiricah’s was entirely intellectual. And it wasn’t like anyone was walking around telling him how to use it. Still…
He pushed to his feet, carefully avoiding looking down, and pulled his glove off with his teeth. No flesh covered his middle finger, leaving it to clean—white bone exposed to the air. It was the seat of his power, his skeletal key. If he wanted to stand high above, he’d have to master his power. Or at the very least, not suck so bad at it. “O-okay. Um, here goes.”
He trained his attention on the leather glove, fighting the urge to notice the ground below. He was only ten feet up, but the mere thought of falling made his palms sweat.
Kelyan cheered, pumping his arms overhead and causing the branch to bounce, sending ripples of anxiety from the branch and straight down Tiricah’s spine.
Tiricah’s left hand flew back and touched the trunk. “Hey, do you mind?!” He shook the leather glove at Kelyan in mock indignation, doing his best to keep his tone playful and not let any tremor enter his voice.
Kelyan grinned again and winked at Tiricah. He walked over—arms stretched out for balance and his sleeves flapping in the light breeze—with hardly a wobble. His balance was admirable, though watching him return still made Tiricah’s heart pound. Kelyan neared and flopped down to straddle the branch in front of Tiricah. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to noodle your doodle.” He cackled and flung his arms wide, making him wobble, much to his own delight.
Tiricah shot an exaggerated scowl at him. Kelyan leaned forward and planted a playful kiss on Tiricah’s nose. Tiricah snorted and his scowl cracked into a rueful smile. It was impossible to be mad at Kelyan, much less stay mad at him. Tiricah tapped the glove with his forefinger. “I’ve gotta get perspective—my perspective, you know?”
With a burst of inspiration, he touched his fleshless middle finger to the leather and concentrated. With a careful stroke, he traced a near-perfect circle, willing magic into the inscription. The circle glowed with a faint blue light, though ‘blue’ wasn’t quite the right word. True, it looked blue, but it didn’t feel blue. It felt more like a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. A sense of encompassing pressure. A reassuring safety.
The circle wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was good enough. It would contain the magic without much warping. With his barrier glyph in place, Tiricah drew a line with slight curves along its length—an approximation of the tree limb. That part wasn’t so important, overall, but he concentrated deeply all the same. No point in practicing if he was going to be sloppy about it.
He sketched out a lanky stick figure at the far end of the branch, arms splayed wide.
Kelyan craned over and clicked his tongue. “Hey! I’m not that gangly.”
Tiricah smothered a smile, smoothing his face into an innocent expression. “I draw ‘em like I see ‘em.” He turned back to the leather and layered in more detail into Kelyan’s long hair. The stick figure didn’t approximate real life much—he wasn’t that good yet—but it was more about essence anyway. About feeling. Tiricah’s fingers buzzed at the thought of running through Kelyan’s hair. At the memory from last week of Kelyan playfully batting him in the face with it until Tiricah finally laughed after he’d twisted his ankle.
Kelyan settled his weight back and nodded in approval at the drawing. “Now that’s more like it.”
Tiricah grinned as he took a moment of rest. Even just setting up this small glyph was draining. He smirked at Kelyan. “It’s based on a guy I know.”
Kelyan stroked his chin. “Looks like a good looking guy.”
Tiricah snorted and touched his middle finger back to the leather. “Not a bad kisser, either.”
Kelyan bobbed his head. “I’d tap that.”
Tiricah burst out laughing and waved a hand at Kelyan. “I bet you would. Now, quiet. I’ve gotta concentrate.” He placed his finger in the center of the stick figure’s head. What did it feel like? Confident, maybe. Or even… sticky?
He drew a line through its body and into the branch, pouring his energy into the glyph. As soon as he lifted his finger, a wave of fatigue rushed through him, as if he’d run a mile. Apprehension washed through him as he caught his breath. Had it worked? It felt like it had worked. The final stroke glowed red. It had felt heavy—a sensation he still felt. Like a weight was tied around his neck. But instead of pulling him directly toward the ground, it pulled toward the tree, primarily the trunk.
Kelyan cocked his head to the side. “You don’t look like a squirrel.”
“That wasn’t, I wasn’t trying to… never mind.” He’d just have to show him.
Tiricah apprehensively tensed his legs. It felt like he was connected to the branch—his intention—though there was a stronger pull toward the trunk. Oh well. “Only one way to find out.”
A blip of excitement shot through him and he shifted to the side. The pull shifted in the opposite direction, like a cord tethering him toward the branch. He shakily scooted forward. The ground swirled beneath him sending nausea clawing up his stomach.
Kelyan touched his arm, concern in his eyes, but an encouraging smile on his lips.
Tiricah nodded to him. “I-I’m okay.” He licked his lips, looking to the branch past Kelyan.
Kelyan let out a whoop and jumped from their branch to a nearby one. He spun as soon as he landed and clapped his hands. “Go on! You can do it, it’s fun!”
Tiricah’s hands flew back to the trunk behind him as the branch wobbled from the force of Kelyan’s jump. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Y-you can’t die from falling just ten feet, right?”
Kelyan slashed a hand through the air. “No way, man! Probably just break your legs.”
“Break your…?!”
Kelyan tapped his chin. “Though I suppose if you landed just right—or wrong, rather—you could snap your… You know what, no, never mind. Don’t worry about it, just go!”
Tiricah groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. This was so dumb. He’d just get down. Maybe he could try the same glyph while on something lower, like a table or bench. He’d be an idiot to even— “Aaaagghh!! HERE I GO!”
Tiricah’s eyes jolted open at the same time he pushed himself away from the trunk of the tree. His foot immediately caught a knot and he pitched off-balance.
Kelyan’s hand shot out and snatched Tiricah’s arm. He tried to jerk Tiricah back onto the branch. Tiricah shouted, his arms flailing and he slipped, pulling Kelyan forward. Tiricah’s weight fell back, but the pull of the spell toward the branch flipped him upside down. His legs caught the limb, and he spiraled around the branch. Kelyan plummeted with an indignant squawk and landed in the soft grass with an oomph!
Tiricah’s arms flung out to grab the branch, but his legs lost purchase and he fell—sideways toward the trunk. The world spun as gravity pulled at his senses, firmly telling him that down was down, while the spell pulled him toward the trunk wreaked havoc on his equilibrium. His side slammed into the tree. With a gasp, he severed the spell and the pull snapped from his senses. Before he could recover, he rebounded lightly and fell straight down to the ground.
Kelyan let out an explosive croak as Tiricah crashed down on top of him.
Tiricah groaned and rolled off of Kelyan. The intense disorientation of falling sideways faded, leaving him with the blissful companionship of ordinary pain from his now-bruised side.
Beside him, Kelyan’s body shook as a barely contained chuckle escaped his lips. He clapped his hands to his face and howled with laughter, kicking his feet against the ground.
Tiricah pushed to his hands and knees, glaring at Kelyan. It wasn’t that funny. Kelyan clutched his stomach and rolled side-to-side in sadistic glee. Despite himself, Tiricah grinned. Ok, it was kinda funny. He chortled and collapsed back to the grass, his head on Kelyan’s stomach. They both laughed until tears streamed down their faces.
Tiricah shook his fist at the offending branch. “I will NEVER do that again.”
“Nonsense!” Kelyan scooted out from under Tiricah and jumped to his feet. “You must. You just went barking up the wrong tree.” He grinned and crossed to the base of the tree. “We’ll mark it so you remember.”
Tiricah sat up and rested his cheek on a fist. “I doubt I’ll forget which tree I fell out of. Besides, there really aren’t that many trees around anyway.” The strange infection had taken care of that. Not that many years ago, the forest around their city had been lush. Now, healthy trees only peppered the landscape, most of the remnants of the forest being rotted stumps. Thankfully, the guardians trees that filled the courtyard around the castle were still thriving.
Tiricah poked his bruised ribs and winced. Guess he should be grateful—bruised as they were, his bones protected the vital organs. Without them, it’d have been much worse. He pushed to his feet and held a hand out. “Wait.” Kelyan glanced back at him. Tiricah joined him by the base of the tree. “Magic is all about relationships—I think I understand even better now.” He smiled at Kelyan. “And none is more important than ours so…” He pointed his skeletal finger at the tree. “Go ahead and mark it.” Kelyan brightened, but Tiricah raised his hand until he pointed to a spot on the trunk between two branches just thick enough to support their weight. “Up there.”
Kelyan craned his head up, then cocked an eyebrow at Tiricah. “You sure about that?”
“Don’t worry about me—I’ll get up there.” Tiricah’s palms sweat just thinking about climbing up there. “It’ll be safe up there. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Tiricah laid a hand on his chest, the thump of his heart light against his palm. “I’ll add the final protection—like a beating heart safe in a rib cage.”
Kelyan clapped Tiricah on the shoulder. “No idea what you’re talking about, but okay!” He jumped and caught a sturdy tree limb. In only half a minute, he’d scurried up through the branches to the spot. He rolled up his left sleeve, revealing his skeletal arm. His flesh stopped at the shoulder, with the entirety of his arm, all the way down to his hand, being just bone. He clasped his own hand, flesh fingers wrapping around bony ones, and pulled. His hand dislocated at the wrist. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and shoved his bones back in place. “Okay, come on now.” He scrunched up his face, causing cute wrinkles to bunch around his eyes and forehead. After a moment of concentration, he pulled on his hand again. This time, the thicker of his two forearm bones cracked with a long V-shaped cut separating the two halves. He pulled his arm free, now holding his own hand connected to the wrist and forearm bone. His forearm ended in a razor-sharp bone blade. The rest of the arm bone dangled from the shoulder socket, a notch taken out of forearm.
“Aha!” Kelyan shook his own hand in congratulations. “And now… bone sword!” He whipped his bones downward and they locked into a straight line, ending with the blade—his favorite configuration.
Tiricah clapped politely. Kelyan had been working hard on detaching more of his arm and configuring the end into a blade. It was only recently that he’d been able to draw more than his hand and wrist away. With enough practice, maybe one day he’d be able to detach his entire arm.
Kelyan’s magic was definitely well-suited to him, being mostly physical. In that respect, his power was much different than Tiricah’s. However, Kelyan’s power was not only configuring his bones, but also his ability to physically use them. Sword fighting, primarily. Something he was working on. Kelyan cackled and waved his bone sword overhead.
Well, something he theoretically worked on. Tiricah rolled his eyes, but grinned. Kelyan wasn’t too much for practice and discipline. Which made it that much more unfair that he was so naturally talented. Even with sporadic practice, he was already shaping up to be one of the more skilled fighters in the city.
Tiricah chewed his cheek, absently stroking the bones of his middle finger. Plenty of people would have killed to have his power. It was relatively rare, to be able to carve glyphs into the world—the potential to be a mage. But it wasn’t easy. He rubbed his ribs ruefully. He had a long way to go.
Kelyan stood on the branch to the left of the trunk, his right hand digging the point of his bone sword into the tree, and he carved some clumsy letters into the tree. Tiricah took his time inching up the tree, one steady and well-tested branch at a time. By the time he made it up, Kelyan was finishing his etching. If it was anything like Kelyan’s normal penmanship, it’d be illegible.
Kelyan stepped back, letting the sword drop to his side, and he proudly waved to his handiwork. Tiricah pulled himself up to branch on the right of the trunk, his tunic soaked with nervous sweat. He clung to the trunk with his right hand and touched the freshly etched letters with his left. KT + TL.
Kelyan tapped him with the blunt end of his sword. “Whaddya think?”
Tiricah stroked the letters and a few flecks of bark fluttered to the grass. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?!”
Tiricah arched an eyebrow at Kelyan. “Well, you do know that ‘Elivan’ starts with an ‘E’?” He chuckled and tapped the incorrect initials. “Clearly not!”
“Shit.” Kelyan pounced back to the trunk and Tiricah flinched out of the way of his sword with a laugh. Kelyan furiously etched two extra notches into the ‘L’, turning it into an ‘E’. He slapped the corrected letters with a nod. “There. Now it’s perfect.”
“Almost.” Tiricah shooed Kelyan to the side. He raised his bony middle finger to the bark.
“What? There’s no way I messed up my initials. Wait, did I?” Kelyan leaned in again.
Tiricah laughed and pushed Kelyan back. “No, you goof. It needs a binding circle—for protection.”
Kelyan snapped his arm back into place and jumped to Tiricah’s branch. “Oh, make it heart!” He formed a heart with his fingers—half-flesh and half-bone—and batted his eyelashes.
Tiricah scoffed. “No way. That’s limp noodle, man.”
“Do it, do it, do it.” Kelyan grabbed his hair and lightly whipped Tiricah in the face repeatedly with the ends. “Heartheartheartheart.”
“Fine!” Tiricah shielded his face with an arm as he chuckled. “Weirdo.” He raised his finger back to the initials as Kelyan let out a triumphant whoop. Kelyan hopped up and grabbed a branch. He scurried back along the tree, while Tiricah set to work.
A heart. Pfft, that softie. How’s this for a heart?
Tiricah spent the next hour meticulously etching a detailed human heart onto the tree. He made sure it extended some extra distance past the bottom of his initials. The glyph hummed with the power of the partially completed protection enchantment. It’d only be sealed when everyone touched it. As he drew in a vein to snake past the letters, a melodic voice startled him from below.
“Defacing a tree—really?”
Tiricah jolted and whipped his head down to the ground. Demir grinned, an eyebrow arched at him and arms folded. Her dark hair was braided into a circlet on her head as it always was. With her anatomy—and subsequent power—it had to be. She stood just an inch shorter than him and wore a blue tunic with tan pants. Even with her facing him, he knew the tunic was backless. Fae-human hybrids’ bone-like wings, while in a similar location to humans’ shoulder blades, were far larger and external to their body. And the royal bloodline was still rich in fae blood. Her wings reached as low as her waist and as high as the nape of her neck—the reason her hair had to be up. Couldn’t risk getting caught with the fluttering motion should her wings fan out. She hopped into the tree and deftly wove through the branches, as adept at climbing as Kelyan, until she hunched beside Tiricah on the branch.
Tiricah rubbed the back of his neck with a guilty smile. “It’s not vandalism, it’s art!”
“Art, huh?” She squinted at the heart, clasping his hand. After a moment, she let out a grunt of grudging admiration. “Wow, you’ve really improved.” She kissed him on the cheek, but then wagged a finger in his face. “But you shouldn’t be practicing on trees. They wouldn’t deface you, you know.”
Kelyan swung down and dropped next to Demir. “Ah, my faeby!” He swept her into a grand dip and she giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed, while Tiricah snuck in one last stroke on the heart.
Demir broke off the kiss and tutted. “I saw that.” She faced the initials, intertwining fingers with Kelyan on one side and Tiricah on the other. Her face scrunched into a pout. “Oh, come on, guys. You couldn’t add my initials?”
Kelyan snatched the bones of his hand. “I’ll fix it!”
“NO.” Tiricah lurched protectively in front of the etching he’d labored so long over. Demir frowned at him and he raised his hand, tapping his middle finger. “Let me.” He pointed to the space he’d left below his initials. “You belong here.” Demir’s face lit up and she pulled Kelyan back a step to give Tiricah room. He applied his finger to the space he’d saved for her. Like any glyph, intention was important. Letters, while not visually descriptive like a portrait, could still be imbued with a person’s essence. He closed his eyes and attuned himself with memories of Demir. It wasn’t hard. She, Kelyan, and he had been in a relationship for several years. She was heiress to the throne, her life full of royal duties, but that had never gotten in the way of being together.
KT + TL + DB
Demir wrapped a hand around Tiricah’s waist. “Now it’s perfect.”
He smiled. “Almost. It needs to be sealed.” He turned to both of them. “We each need to touch it.” He scooted over, touching the left side of the heart.
Kelyan tilted his head. “How’s that gonna work? There’s only enough room for you here. And”—he jumped onto the branch on the other side and slapped his hand onto the right side of the heart—“only room for one person here.”
Demir perked up. “Oh! I see.” Her bone wings fanned out from her back and fluttered into motion. She stepped off the branch and wobbled in mid-air as her wings struggled to balance her. “Here I go!” She windmilled her arms as she struggled to get into position in front of the heart. One of her hands whipped out, but missed the heart. She flung her arms wide again as she threatened to tip.
Tiricah pumped a fist at her. “You can do it!” The fact that she could fly at all was a testament to her unusual power. It had been two generations since a fae-human had been born with wings large enough to accommodate flight. As such, even with access to all manner of tutors, there was no one living who could guide her on the lost art. She’d been diligently working on it on her own, but he knew that even hovering in place was exhausting right now. She batted a hand at the heart again and missed, tipping her weight backward.
Tiricah caught her ankle and jerked her toward the tree. Her toe touched the heart.
Kelyan cheered as Demir somersaulted in air before starting to fall. He leaped from his branch, catching her, and landing smoothly on Tiricah’s branch. “That counts!” Kelyan lowered Demir down and glanced at Tiricah. “Right? That counts, doesn’t it?”
Tiricah stared intently at the glyph. “I, uh, don’t know.” Kelyan and Demir huddled close behind him, craning to see what happened. “I’m not sure—”
“Look!” Demir pointed at the initials. Each set glowed with light. Shimmer blue like a flowing river for Tiricah. Flickering orange like a dancing flame for Kelyan. Molten gold like the sun behind closed eyes for Demir. The colors spread through the heart like liquid running through a groove until they blended together into a deep red. The heart pulsed with power, then the light seeped into the tree itself. Bark grew from the trunk, filling in over the glyph until a knot had formed on top, protecting it.
Demir squeezed Tiricah’s arm in excitement. “Whoa.”
He grinned and Kelyan whistled appreciatively. Tiricah tapped the newly formed knot. “There. We’re sealed together.” He met the other two’s eyes. “Now, can we please get down??”
They burst out laughing and climbed down. Once back on the skull-blessed ground, Demir sank down to catch her breath and Tiricah fiddled with his glove. The protective glyph had been cool, but Demir had been forced to really struggle for it. If he’d gotten his tree-binding right, maybe he could have been the one to climb out and not her.
She glanced at his glove. “What’s that?”
He flushed and shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Just a binding, but, uh, it didn’t work.”
She took the glove, studying the etching. “Hmm.” She traced Kelyan’s stick figure. “You were orienting externally.”
Tiricah’s eyebrows shot up and he knelt next to her. “Yeah, exactly.” He sometimes forgot that, even though she couldn’t create enchantments like him, she did have a royal education—including studying glyphs. “I wanted to reorient the world’s pull to the tree, but it just made me fall toward the trunk.”
She laughed and patted his cheek with the glove. “Well, that’s your problem!” She returned the glove to him. “The directionality was wrong.”
“Directionality?”
“You tried to change the tree and its relation to the world. Instead, you should have changed yourself and your relation to the tree.”
His eyes widened. “Of course.” Directionality! He rubbed a thumb over the glyphs etched into the leather. He’d been working from the outside in, imposing an external order. “Inside out.” He stroked a finger along the interior of the glove, feeling the light grooves.
“Enough of that!” Kelyan eagerly hauled them both to their feet. “What’re we doing today?” He wrapped his arms around both of them in a crushing bearhug.
Demir giggled and tried to pry his skeletal arm away. “Ah, easy! You’re digging into me.”
Kelyan bounced his eyebrows at her. “Oh, I dig you.” He heaved them back, tipping both of their weight onto their heels. “I dig both of you.”
Tiricah stumbled, trying to regain his balance. “Leggo, we’re gonna—”
“WAHOO!” Kelyan flung his weight back and they all collapsed in a heap on top of him.
They dissolved into gales of laughter until Tiricah’s bruised side throbbed.
Their initials in the tree glowed with amber light from behind the knot, but that wasn’t what it felt like.
It felt like a beating flame—safe within the woody protection of the tree.
It felt warm.
***
Five years later
Tiricah hunched over the leather tunic, his brow furrowed in concentration. His head pounded from the long hours of strain, but defeating death itself was no easy feat.
The tunic was inside out, allowing him to etch the enchantment to face outward. The candles in the room had burnt low, casting long shadows up the walls. He’d lost track of how long he’d labored over the glyph. The drain on his bones told him it had been longer than he thought. But this was it—he could feel it.
The protection circle nearly encompassed the entire chest of the tunic, but was barely visible under all the detail he had painstakingly etched in. A great tree covered the tunic, every gnarl, every knob, every leaf in vivid detail. The roots extended to the bottom of the shirt—when someone wore it, they would be touching the person’s skin, as was necessary for the spell. Across the top was the most important part. The glyphs that he had labored so long on—visible even from the exterior of the tunic. In the low lighting, they glowed red. Not quite like blood, more like tree resin. And they’re feeling, yes…
The glyph felt like the mighty oak, unbowed by a storm’s assault.
It was time.
He jumped to his feet, tunic in hand. There was only one way to test if death indeed could be defied. His eyes strayed to the leather glove on the table. To the untrained eye, it appeared like any other glove, unadorned with any special markings. But the power within it pulsed like a drum against his senses.
He’d take it—just in case.
He snatched the glove and pulled it onto his left hand. The intricate etching on the interior tickled the back of his hand. The tunic would work—it had to. But weathering death’s assault didn’t mean he couldn’t also outrun it, if need be, did it?
***
“Are you sure I should kill you?” Kelyan leveled his bone sword at Tiricah. “I’d feel pretty bad if I actually succeeded. You do make the best pies, after all.”
Tiricah rubbed his hands together nervously and forced a chuckle. He appreciated his husband trying to lighten the mood, though his heart still hammered, all the same. The tunic felt heavy on his body, almost like a full plate of armor. Indeed it was. He adjusted his stance—barefoot in the grass to feel the reassuring touch of the tree’s roots. Behind him, one of the remaining trees of the blight—their tree—loomed mightily. He swallowed hard and nodded to Kelyan. “Y-yeah. I mean, you won’t kill me, but it’s time to try.”
The tunic had passed all the other tests, where the other tunics he’d made had failed and failed. He’d run out of tests now. It was time for the real thing.
Kelyan swirled the tip of his sword at the glyphs on the tunic. “And you’re sure, really sure, that those will protect you?” He smiled ruefully. “I only ask because I know a lady, a very powerful lady, who would not be so amused if I sent you to the catacombs. Here, of all places.” He waved the sword at the tree’s knot where the heart with their initials still glowed as prominently as the day Tiricah had carved the glyph.
Tiricah glared at Kelyan. “Yes, I’m well aware what our wife would do to you if you killed me. I’ve made my peace with that possibility.” He bit his lip and shot an apologetic look at Kelyan. “Sorry. Just, nerves, you know.” Kelyan was only trying to put him at ease. Though he had a point. If their wife, the queen, found out that Tiricah was personally running the final testing? With Kelyan, no less, and on the very spot that they all had gotten married.
She’d probably have both their heads.
So maybe if he died, he’d be better off anyway?
His gallows humor earned an anxious titter from him and he shook his head. No. It would succeed. And he really shouldn’t think such things. Nothing in the world would make him want to leave Demir and Kelyan. Guess he’d just have to live.
Tiricah took a deep breath. “Oh shit. Okay, okay, okay. Just do it. Do it on ‘three’. One…”
“HYAAAAAH!!!” Kelyan slashed his bone blade at Tiricah’s side.
“OH FU—” Tiricah cringed away, covering his head. The blade bounced off the tunic without leaving so much as an indent. A crack resonated from behind them as the tree itself absorbed the strike.
Kelyan panted, staring wide-eyed at Tiricah. “Are you…? I didn’t kill you, right?”
Tiricah lowered his arms from around his head. His shaking legs made his entire body tremble like a leaf. He tentatively lowered a hand to his ribs where the blade had hit the tunic. Only smooth leather met his fingers. “It worked.” He wheezed, an almost panicked exhilaration flooding his body. “IT WORK—”
Kelyan loosed another battlecry and lopped at Tiricah several times. His sword bounced harmlessly off the tunic, then he directed the blows to Tiricah’s bare arms. The blade continued to glance off with no result, except the cracking of the tree behind them.
Tiricah scurried away, under the barrage. “Okay, you can stop—agh!” Kelyan’s strikes resulted in no pain or injury, but they were unnerving. Tiricah tightened his left fist, bringing the glyph etched on the interior of the glove firmly against the back of his hand. He raced to the tree and leaped. His feet landed on the trunk, his body reorienting perfectly to the tree. Without pause, he sprinted up in spirals around the trunk until he got to the familiar knot. Only then did he stop, flopping onto one of the branches as he panted.
Kelyan stood at the base of the tree, bent over as he caught his breath. “Ah… that seems… to have gone well…” He snapped his arm back into place, smoothed back his hair, and laced his fingers behind his head.
Tiricah patted himself down, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. No cuts, no pain, nothing except explosive indignation. “ARE YOU INSANE??”
Kelyan fanned himself with his flesh hand. “Oh, don’t be silly. I knew it would work. I trust your magic.” He patted his cheek and nodded. “Hm, all this hacking has got me thirsty. Are you thirsty? Or is that just for who does the hacking?” He clicked his tongue. “I bet it’s just a hacking thing.”
Tiricah groaned and covered his face with his hands. With his pulse recovering, the elation of his success swept through him. He walked back down the trunk until his feet touched solid ground. Kelyan pulled him into an embrace. Tiricah leaned his head against Kelyan’s shoulder as he grinned.
He’d done it. Finally, he’d done it. Demir would be so relieved. They’d be able to protect their city—and not a moment too soon. The invaders were closing in, according to the scout’s latest reports. Only a day or two away. But now, they had a way to fight. To defend themselves even though their numbers were a quarter of the invaders.
But if every one of their fighters could invoke the protection of the guardian trees, then they’d be worth ten fighters.
Kelyan ran his bone fingers through Tiricah’s hair, lightly stroking his head. Tiricah pulled back and cupped Kelyan’s face. “Thank you. For believing in me.” He pulled Kelyan down and their lips met.
Kelyan’s mouth twisted into a grin and he broke the kiss off. “For chopping at you? Oh, don’t mention it, I’ve been wanting to do that for years!”
Tiricah snorted and rolled his eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
“No, really! It’s great that tunic protected you. I thought you were dead meat for a moment there, but I’d already committed, you know. No sense in stopping half-done.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.” Tiricah grabbed Kelyan’s hand and pulled him back toward the city. “We’ve got to get back and tell Demir. There’s not a moment to lose.”
***
Demir was not happy with his methods. As she put it, he almost got her second-favorite husband killed. But he couldn’t stop grinning the whole time she berated him, so she finally gave up. The tension that had coiled around her shoulders dropped away a fraction—the first time he’d seen her relax, even a little bit, in weeks.
That was all the praise he needed. The last few weeks, he and Kelyan had been working day and night to prepare for the invaders. He, by toiling over the binding spell to harness the power of the guardian trees. Kelyan, as a lieutenant of their army, by training by day and helping with fortifications at night. Sleep often only came as an involuntary response to exhaustion and was short, at that. But neither of them could ease Demir’s burden as queen. She, alone, shouldered the welfare of the people—and the coming fear of destruction as the invaders marched closer every day.
She held a council with the few mages the city had and Tiricah held up the tunic for them to furiously scribble notes on. With the invaders a day from the castle’s gates, there was no time to waste. Tiricah saw more than a few hands trembling at the nearing blasts of the war horns.
This was it.
Their last resort. Their only chance.
In the flickering light of the room, the mages spelled themselves to the point of exhaustion, enchanting tunic after tunic. Tiricah only had time to check the first one from each mage, making sure they etched it on the inside, before sending them off to show it to their team to reproduce as many as possible.
His eyes blurred as he poured his energy into another tunic. Each one might be the difference between life and death for their people. Just one more.
The world swirled around him as his breathing turned labored. Despite the nearby candle, his vision dimmed. He labored to complete the protection circle.
Just one more…
***
All through the room, the handful of mages struggled to replicate the intricate glyph. At the head table, Tiricah collapsed, his body lapsing into unconsciousness.
A woman stood in concern, but wobbled on her feet as her own exhaustion weighed on her. A replacement mage hurried forward and touched her elbow. “Let him rest. He’s earned it.” The man peered at her and nudged her toward the back. “And you as well. Regain your strength—we’ll need every morsel when the invaders arrive.” She blurrily nodded and stumbled back to a cot.
The mage sat at her station and raised a hand. “Tunics.” One of the suppliers ran up to him and laid a stack of tunics, dyed black with the essence of the night flower, on his table. The mage nodded his thanks and spread out one of the woman’s finished tunics. He gathered his strength and pressed the tip of his right forefinger knuckle—bare of flesh—to the tunic. With great care, he copied the glyph onto the outside of the tunic, replicating it perfectly.
***
A distant crash jolted Tiricah awake. “SHIT ON A SKULL!” He sat upright, a partially-finished tunic sticking lightly to his cheek. Wh-where was he?
He blinked the fatigue from his eyes and looked around. Mages poured over tunics, etching glyphs into the interior. A moment later, the door banged open. Demir—her hair disheveled, her armor blood-stained—rushed in. “They’ve cracked the main gate! They’ll be inside the courtyard soon.” She locked eyes with Tiricah. “Are they ready?”
He leaped to his feet, the tunic he hadn’t finished clutched in his hand. “Enough are. We’ll have to make do.” He scooped up his pile of finished tunics. How many had they made in all? A few dozen?
But if every one of them made each of their soldiers worth ten fighters, surely that would do, right? Enough to take on a few hundred of the invaders. And they would keep working. It would work.
It had to.
Tiricah rushed along the left side of the room, gathering the tunics each team of mages thrust into his hands. Most were brown leather, though a few came in a variety of colors. A mage handed him a stack of five black tunics and Tiricah added them to his armload. The power emanating from them felt slightly strange, almost like a single instrument a tad off-key in an orchestra. He glanced at the shirts as he walked to the next table.
No—the glyph was correct, no major detail off. Every mage’s magic had a different signature. Perhaps this one just felt slightly foreign to him. Shouting rang from outside the room and Tiricah picked up the pace. The glyph was correct, he didn’t have time to wonder about the philosophy of individual magical quirks.
Another mage raced along the right side, gathering tunics as she stumbled to the front. They met, both of their arms full, and Demir spun. She led them at a run to the ramparts that oversaw the courtyard where their forces were gathered.
Behind the pile of tunics, Tiricah eyed the gate. A long crack ran through it and an iron bar had been placed across it for reinforcement. From beyond it, a drum beat a steady tempo. After a four-count, a battering ram smashed into the door with a crash. The iron bar groaned, the strike causing it to bend a bit further. It would only last a few more strikes.
Demir rushed to the wall. Upon seeing her, the soldiers—as one—clapped, then thumped their left fist to their chest in the military salute. Demir barked orders and Tiricah and the other mage tossed down tunics to the soldiers below. The soldiers donned the tunics frantically, some of them barely covering their armor. They shouldn’t have worn the armor, Demir surely told them it wasn’t necessary.
The battering ram smashed into the door again and Tiricah winced. How could he blame the soldiers for wearing their armor? They must be scared senseless. And the only reassurance was maybe, maybe, a team of mages squirreled away in the safety of the castle had worked on magic shirts for them. If anyone had told him to go to battle with nothing but a flimsy tunic on, he’d have told them to shove it up their ass.
But here they were, dutifully pulling the tunics on. Scared as they were—eyes as big as saucers—they were trusting him that this would work.
No. Trusting Demir, their queen.
And she had put her faith in him.
Tiricah steeled himself, refusing to flinch as the bar rattled on the gate.
Something pounded into Tiricah’s back and he jumped. “AH! FUCK MY FEMUR!”
Kelyan burst out laughing and thumped Tiricah again. “Jumpy, are we?”
Tiricah clutched his chest as his heart threatened to burst. “Can you PLEASE not do that, right now?” Despite himself, he grinned wanly. Having Kelyan and Demir near always set him slightly at ease—even now.
Kelyan shrugged noncommittally with an impish smile. His eyes had dark circles under them, his normally thin face, haggard. Despite his light expression, there was a barely contained panic hidden in the lines of his face.
The last of the tunics were donned by soldiers and Demir flung her arms wide. “GO! To the guardian trees.”
Kelyan shook his bone arm at them. “And hurry up about it—uh oh.” He scooped up a helmet. “Excuse me. Will the owner of a red iron helmet come to the front?” He waved the helmet overhead as soldiers scurried away to the stumps of the remaining guardian trees that had been said to always watch over the city. “Okay, but if anyone is looking for this, I’m going to put it in the lost-and-found barrel in the barracks.”
Tiricah groaned, but the glimmer of strange magic pulled at his senses. His eyes followed the black tunics as the soldiers wearing them dispersed to their assigned trees. One was given to a soldier near the main gates, another two to soldiers on the right, and the final two to soldiers on the left. One of the soldiers on the left walked to the far end of the courtyard to the church grounds and took up their station at the large guardian tree. Tiricah’s gaze fell back to the rest of the courtyard where soldiers spread out to the remaining guardian trees. Once the courtyard had been filled with greenery and great posterity. That was before the blight, of course. Now, many of the trees were withered, barely alive. Had that been a sign of things to come? The people’s fate, though they’d never wanted to face it?
Demir clasped his hand and Kelyan grabbed his other. Tiricah swallowed and nodded. The outer bark, the smaller branches, they may have been withered, but the core of the trees, the roots, they were still strong.
They would survive.
The gate exploded, the bar popping free. It landed in the courtyard as fragments of wood burst outward. The end of the battering ram withdrew, followed by a thud as it was dropped. Shouts rang out as the invaders rushed through the splintered gate.
Tiricah’s heart hammered as he fought the urge to flee. The invaders came upon the first of their soldiers who stood their ground in the radius of each guardian tree’s roots. Two men bearing axes charged a female soldier at the front. She sliced her sword through the first man’s neck, but the second man knocked her sword aside. Two more invaders—women armed with spears—fell upon her. As if one, they jabbed as their comrade brought his axe down on the soldier. She screamed, desperately slashing her sword toward them.
All three weapons bounced off the woman with resounding cracks! from the trunk of the tree behind her. Her sword bit into one of the other woman’s arms and blood erupted. The invaders shouted in shock as the woman matched their shout with a victorious battlecry. Before they recovered, she cut down the man and ran the other woman through.
All around, similar scenes were playing out. Tiricah watched in awe from above as their defenders shrugged off fatal hits and cut down the disbelieving invaders.
Disbelief turned to fear as many of the invaders at the front fell back.
A battleshout chorus erupted from the soldiers as many voices screamed as one. The soldiers further from the gate—who hadn’t fought yet—let out jubilant cheers, smashing their swords against shields.
Kelyan howled in glee and bearhugged Tiricah, lifting him off his feet. “You squirrely, crazed, artist-assed, beautiful GENIUS!!!”
Tiricah burst out laughing and pounded Kelyan on the back. “Let me down, let me down!” He wiggled free, exchanging a hopeful glance with Demir, and leaned on the ramparts wall. This was just the start, there were still invaders out there. But it was working.
IT WAS WORKING!
Despite some of the frontline falling back, invaders continued to pour through the gates. Enough of them now to engage soldiers further in the courtyard. The soldiers, with renewed courage, held their ground and fought off the tirade.
A scream pierced the cacophony, coming from the left. The pitch was so pained, invaders and soldiers alike turned toward the source. A soldier stood, a spear rammed through his shoulder, his head tipped back to loose the feral howl. Tiricah craned forward in horror. The soldier had been stabbed—had his tunic failed?
No. Even from the ramparts, Tiricah could see the black tunic. It glowed with an earthy brown hue—but it felt… wrong. One of the other mages had made it. They had made a mistake, though he couldn’t see anything wrong with the—
The man’s entire body contorted, then withered. His arms, legs, and face wrinkled as if all the moisture were rapidly drained. Then his body hardened, taking on a woodlike quality. Within moments, it was almost as if he were a twisted tree, garishly dressed with human clothes.
The invader who had stabbed the man fell back in shock. A vinelike tendril shot from the petrified soldier’s mouth—still craned open in a soundless scream—and stabbed directly into the invader, burrowing into his chest. The tendril wrenched him off his feet and pulled him to the soldier’s twisted body.
His death happened much faster than the soldier’s. The invader withered away, drained so completely that his husk collapsed to mere whisps that hung like moss from the soldier’s branch-like arms. With a series of cracks, the soldier’s wooden body expanded as new layers of bark erupted. The soldier’s outline thickened to approximate a tree’s trunk with new limbs branching from the top. The new layer covered the tunic, gnarls formed over the outline of the enchantment.
Kelyan tapped Tiricah’s shoulder. “Uhh… quick question, nothing too urgent. But is that supposed to happen?”
Tiricah’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times like a fish before he found his voice. “N-no!”
“Oh, okay, just curious. Hey, do you know anyone missing a red helmet?”
Stunned silence turned to panic as invaders rushed away from the carnivorous tree. Another tendril whipped out, catching a man who hadn’t fled fast enough. It latched to his head, ripping his face off, before darting forward and plunging through his neck. As the tree drained this man, it swelled in size once again.
Demir grabbed Tiricah, her eyes wide. “Wh-what’s happening?”
Kelyan stroked his chin. “It appears we may have been wrong about something very important.” Demir and Tiricah both looked at him. “Sometimes, trees can deface humans, and not the other way around.”
Tiricah whipped back to Demir. “I don’t know what’s going on. One of the mages messed up the glyph. We have to—”
A new tendril erupted and flicked toward the neighboring tree. The woman assigned to that guardian tree stood frozen in horror. The tendril smashed into her chest and she shouted as she fell back. Bark chipped from her tree as it absorbed the impact. The carnivorous tree finished draining the man and both tendrils smashed into the woman at the same time. She screamed as her tree groaned. The tendrils drew back and slammed into her with the force of a battering ram. Her tunic’s glyphs burned bright with magic. The tendrils tore into the tunic itself. They lifted the woman from her feet, feasting on the lifeforce of her guardian tree.
The tree behind her began to collapse inward as its trunk, branches, and roots were drained. Branches sloughed off as they thinned beyond capacity. The ground bucked as the roots weakened under the weight of the trunk. With a heave, the tree toppled, dirt flung free as the roots ripped from the soil. As the tree struck the ground, it shattered, already hollowed from the inside. With the tree drained, the tendrils finally pierced the tunic and stabbed into the woman. She screamed for a moment before her body dissolved away.
New bark erupted in heavy sheets from the carnivorous tree as it grew at a rapid rate. What once was the solider’s body expanded into the size of sapling, then touched its own guardian tree. As the tree continued to grow, it merged with the guardian tree, new layers now extending all through the tree’s branches.
Kelyan turned to Tiricah. “Uh… respectfully: what in the skeletal fuck is happening?”
Tiricah extended his middle finger out, his senses questing toward the tree’s enchantment. It was all correct. This shouldn’t have been happening—
Oh, shit on a spinal column.
No.
The blood drained from his face.
Demir grabbed his arm. “What is it?”
“They didn’t flip it.” He jerked his head to meet Demir’s eyes. “O-one of the mages. They must not have turned the tunic inside out.”
“Inside out?” She looked back at the tree, now writhing with half a dozen tendrils that stretched out for more food. Two of them caught soldiers and started hailing down attacks on them to break through the enchantment. Demir spun Tiricah to face her. “What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “They wrote it on the outside of the tunic—th-the directionality, it’s… the enchantment is being directed the wrong direction.” A new scream cut through the air, sending shivers down Tiricah’s spine. From another section of the courtyard, where invaders had fled to, one of the soldiers stood rooted in place, her head craned back. Her body underwent a similar transformation—withering, then hardening, then feasting on nearby invaders. Even as that carnivorous tree grew, another two screams rose from different areas in the courtyard.
Tiricah cursed, his mind whirling furiously. How many? How many tunics had that incompetent mage enchanted? Assuming it was the black tunics, then there’d be five. Four soldiers had turned already. He spun back to Demir and Kelyan. “We have to go down there! I-I can reverse it. I think.”
Kelyan innocently patted his cheek. “Oh, ok. Good.”
Demir shot him a sour look. “Good?”
Kelyan swept his skeletal arm over the chaos. “Now, no need for pessimism. Technically, this is staving off the invaders. Honestly, better than we would have done without the tunics.” Demir’s mouth opened, but Kelyan hastily held up his hand. “I’ll admit, it’s not ideal, but, well, you know.” He nodded to the expanding carnivorous trees. “You always said you wanted more trees.”
Demir groaned and turned back to Tiricah. “You and Kel run down. NOW.”
He nodded, taking a step toward the door, then jerked back. “Where are you going?”
Demir jumped onto the ramparts themselves, her bone wings fanning out. “Pruning.”
“No!” Tiricah flung out an arm for her, but she hopped off the wall. Her wings flurried into motion and she darted toward the nearest tree. As she neared, a tendril shot out at her. She spun in air and her wings sliced through the tendril with perfect timing. Ichor erupted from the severed tendril as it flailed away, but Demir didn’t pause. She ducked down, swooping just beneath a tendril that held one of the soldiers. Her wings cut through the vine, freeing the man.
Kelyan pulled Tiricah by the elbow away from the ramparts. “Come on! She can handle a little tree by herself.”
“Little tree?!”
Despite his concern, Tiricah peeled away and sprinted with Kelyan to the door. They raced through the interior and down the steps. The sound of screams was strangely muffled from within the castle. As they burst into the courtyard, the cacophony assaulted their senses anew.
Demir stood directly in front of the large tree, the ground around her already littered with severed tendrils. A crack! rang out and one of the tree’s limbs broke. The brunt of the branch crashed to the ground, then a mass of tendrils emerged from the new opening. Demir cooly reached back over her head. Her wings detached and she held one in each hand like fans, her feet spreading into a fighting stance.
Tiricah and Kelyan sprinted toward her. Before they arrived, the mass of tendrils plunged at her. She leaped to the side, her hands moving so fast her blade-like wings blurred. Spurts of ichor rained down as she held her own against the barrage.
Tiricah arrived from the side and Kelyan shoved him toward the trunk. “GO! I’ll cover you.” A tendril arced down at Tiricah’s head. A white blade whistled over him and cut through the tendril. Tiricah glanced back, eyes wide. Kelyan held his own skeletal arm detached up to the elbow and configured into a blade. His flesh hand clasped his bone hand and he nodded.
Tiricah wove to the trunk of the tree and slapped a hand over the knot that covered the enchantment. His finger tapped the mass of protective bark and he attempted to etch into it. His enchantment cut into the wood, but failed to go through to the deep layer where the tunic had been covered. He swore and spun. “Demir!”
Ichor covered her in streaks, but she stood triumphant in a circle of severed tendrils. Several cracks! resounded from the tree and three more large limbs split. Tiricah eyed them. Tendrils would emerge from them in just a moment, no doubt. They had only seconds. He nodded to the knot covering the enchantment and Demir’s eyes widened.
The limbs crashed down, shaking the ground and tendrils snaked out of each of the new openings. Demir spun in a circle and slung a wing like a discus toward Tiricah. He dove out of the way and the wing arced past him. It sliced cleanly through the knot and looped back toward Demir. She caught it and immediately spun, her wings blurring once again as she fended off tendrils. Her coordinated defense was pushed to its limits as tendrils from a limb on the other side of the tree assaulted her from behind as well.
Tiricah tore his gaze back to the trunk. Couldn’t help her. Only altering the enchantment would save her. The knot had fallen to the ground, leaving the enchantment exposed with a thin layer of bark still covering it. He pushed his bone finger over it and etched through. His magic cut through the bark all the way to the tunic. The enchantment glowed the same color as the ichor. And it felt… hungry.
He wracked his mind. It’d take too long to completely reverse the enchantment.
Intent—that’s what he needed. A flaying away of the spell’s distortion.
He etched straight into the center of the enchantment, praying that this would work. His alteration cut through the binding circle, opening up a singular pathway. Hope. Something had to still be there, walled off deep within the enchantment just like the tunic had been in the bark. All he could do was etch an opening and trust.
Something grabbed his other wrist and jerked him away. He shouted, wrenching his body back and straining his left hand to the trunk. The tendril snaked up his right arm and wrapped around his chest, strengthening its pull. He strained his hand to the tree and his finger barely touched the enchantment. Just a little more.
The tendril twisted up to his neck and tightened, cutting off his air. It strangled off his grunt, his right hand unable to pry at the vine. Black spots dotted his vision as he rigorously cut the final line through the enchantment. The tendril pulled him fully away and the tip forced its way to his lips. He caught it with his left hand as it writhed, threatening to wriggle free and plunge into his throat to feast on his life.
In his peripherals, Demir had fallen back, blood now mixed with the ichor that covered her. She fended off the tendrils with exhausted swipes of her wings, her once sharp movements turned clumsy. On the other side, Kelyan hacked at tendrils as he desperately tried to join Demir. A vine snatched his ankle and jerked him from his feet.
The tendril on Tiricah’s face forced his head away, back toward the trunk. The enchantment, with his alteration, glowed amber.
In the center, a blue light emerged and wound outward.
It felt—
The tendril forced its way through Tiricah’s fingers and past his lips. Air cut off as it blocked the back of his throat.
The tendril abruptly stopped. A moment later, it retracted from his mouth and loosened around his neck, his chest, his arm. Tiricah fell to his knees, gagging and wheezing as he clutched his bruised throat. Kelyan yelped as the tendril holding him upside down dropped him. Demir cautiously lowered her wings, her shoulders heaving. She spared a glance at Tiricah that asked what he wondered himself. Had it worked?
He struggled to his feet and surveyed the tree. The masses of tendrils hung motionless, outstretched toward each of them. A few of them occasionally twitched. He backed up as Kelyan crossed to Demir. They joined her, uncertain of what the calm meant. Was the tree truly subdued? Or was it merely a pause in the violence while it reasserted control?
There was only one way to know.
Tiricah touched Demir’s shoulder. “Talk to it. As the queen.”
Her brow furrowed, but she drew herself up. “Soldier—stand down.”
The tree remained motionless, the tendrils pointed at them as if coiled. At a moment’s notice, they could dart forward and resume the onslaught.
Demir’s eyes narrowed and her tone turned iron. “This is your QUEEN. Now, stand down.”
The vines burst into motion, gathering into two groups, one collected on the left and the other on the right. Demir sprang back, her razor-edged wings bared toward the tendrils on the right. Kelyan raised his bone sword at the tendrils on the left. Dread pounded through Tiricah and he tensed his legs, ready to sprint back to the enchantment at the trunk.
The tendrils plunged forward—each section arced toward the other. The masses of tendrils met in a colossal clap, then the left section rebounded off and slapped to the trunk, rattling the entire tree.
Tiricah’s mouth dropped open. “D-did it just…?”
Kelyan let out a whoop and reattached his bone sword to his arm. “You betcha ass, it did!” He clapped his hands then thumped his left fist to his chest, echoing the salute.
Demir’s shoulders relaxed and she relocated her wing bones in her back. She touched Tiricah’s arm. “You did it.”
Relief flooded through Tiricah, though as his awareness widened back to the rest of the courtyard, the screams from the other carnivorous trees brought him back to their situation. He shoved the despair aside. They had hope.
Kelyan swiped a finger through the ichor running down Demir’s arm and he popped his finger in his mouth.
Tiricah gagged. “Are you serious?”
Kelyan pulled his finger out and held it up. “Mm, not bad.” He nodded appreciatively back to the tree. “I’d tap that.”
Demir sighed and faced the rest of the courtyard. The four remaining carnivorous trees had grown to a similar size as the first one. “We need to hurry. The more those feed, the deeper the enchantment is hidden.”
Tiricah eyed the next tree. It had snatched several invaders’ dead bodies and was draining them. He clenched his left fist. So it could take energy even from the dead? That didn’t bode well for them. Something nagged at the back of his mind and his eyes strayed toward the church grounds where one of the carnivorous trees was.
Kelyan patted Tiricah on the shoulder. “Technically, you did create an army for Demir.”
“Don’t say it.”
“An infantree.” Kelyan delightedly glanced back and forth between Tiricah and Demir.
Tiricah groaned and slapped his face. “Let’s go. We have work to do.”
“Oh, come on, that was good.”
Demir led the way to the next tree on the right. “You can alter it? If we get to the trunk, you can do it?”
Tiricah nodded and raised his left hand. “Yes. I’m confident. The hard part is getting to the trunk, then we’ll have to expose the enchantment. But we can do it.”
***
The guardian tree on the church grounds swelled as it consumed the lifeforce of the soldier. Its roots burrowed into the ground, questing for more sustenance. Only a few feet downward, they encountered the coffins. The roots wriggled through the rotting wood and slipped through the bones of the dead. The embers of life, faded but not gone, hummed within the marrow. The tree feasted on the dead, sipping life from corpse after corpse. New layers of bark erupted from the trunk as it swelled and branches burst into life with thickened tendrils snaking from the tips.
The roots tunneled through the ground until the worm-like ends broke into the cavernous space deep beneath the church. The presence of many faded lives filled the stale air, not unlike a stench. More and more roots emerged into the catacombs where hundreds of the dead had long been buried.
***
Tiricah scanned the courtyard. Four trees had turned carnivorous in total. Two on the right end and two on the left. The ones of the right were unfortunately close to each other. It’d be hard to get to one while the other attacked from behind. And they were continuing to expand as they fed on soldiers and invaders alike. The only glimmer of hope was that the food source was being exhausted. As everyone fled from them, their access to life forces was dwindling. Though the trees had expanded quite a bit and were now near each other.
Very close in fact.
Tiricah clenched his hair. “Crush my coccyx…” He threw out an arm to each side, halting Demir and Kelyan.
Demir removed his hand. “What is—oh, suck my sternum, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding.”
A mass of vines from each of the trees shot like arrows toward the other tree. The two carnivorous trees, now each massive, formed a mass of wriggling tendrils between them as they attacked each other.
Kelyan tapped his chin. “So, just curious. They couldn’t… you know?” His bone hand mimicked a chewing mouth and closed over his flesh fist. “Nom nom nom. Could they?”
One of the large limbs of the tree on the left split. The other tree’s tendrils darted forward, taking advantage of the weakening. In rapid sequence, the tide turned and the tree on the right overwhelmed the other tree. Its tendrils burrowed all along the tree’s trunk. More cracks! rang out as the tree was drained and hollowed out. It crumbled in on itself, wood splintering and snapping like it had been dead and dry for ages. The victorious tree exploded with growth as layer after layer of bark burst from the trunk and thickened its limbs.
The knot overlaying, and betraying, the location of the enchantment was scarred over with new growth. The glow of the enchantment completely disappeared from sight as the trunk expanded to almost double its previous size. Finally, the growth slowed, leaving the tree now massive. And with no indication of where the enchantment was buried.
Kelyan pointed to the tree. “So… is that going to be a problem?”
Tiricah’s mouth went completely devoid of moisture. “Umm, yes. Yes, that, uh, complicates things.”
Demir crossed her arms. “Great. Is there anything else that would like to go wrong?”
Tiricah tore his eyes away from the huge tree and looked to the other side of the courtyard. “At least the other two trees can’t combine. They’re too far away.” He pointed to each of them. One of them was closer to the castle and there was a guardian tree just within its reach. It’d cannibalize that tree, unfortunately, and keep expanding, possibly enough to jump to the next tree and next after that. The other carnivorous tree, planted on the church grounds, wasn’t close enough to other trees to reach them. Its tendrils licked outward, but came up short. Interestingly, it was still growing, though he couldn’t see any people that it was currently draining.
Demir snorted through her nose and nodded to the tree. “Well, thank the bones, that our ancestors planted the Sentinel Tree by itself.”
Kelyan patted her on the back. “Yeah, see? It’s not that bad.”
Tiricah eyed the lone tree. The Sentinel Tree—planted to watch over their dead. Only the royal family was buried there, though of course, the catacombs were beneath that where everyone else… “Ohhhh no. Oh, fuck my fibula…”
Demir spun to Tiricah. “WHAT?” She snatched his arm. “What is it?”
He weakly pointed to the carnivorous tree on the right that was draining a collection of lifeless bodies. “They, uh, it seems they can drain the dead.”
“So?” Demir’s eyes darted to the Sentinel Tree and the blood drained from her face. “SHIT—”
The Sentinel Tree exploded upward, the ground writhing as its roots plunged through the graveyard. The tree rapidly expanded as it tapped into the bodies of the royal family.
Kelyan tutted. “Well, that’s not ideal. But it’s still not big enough to get to the other tree.”
Tiricah sighed. “The catacombs.”
“The cata—oh. Oh, that is bad. Shatter my, uh… Hey, how do you all the names of so many bones?”
The entire church grounds shuddered as the expanding Sentinel Tree weighed over the hollowed—and hallowed—ground. The graveyard caved inward, causing the tree to pitch down into the catacombs. Only the tips of its branches, with writhing tendrils, were visible. Rumbling turned to a roar. The Sentinel Tree burst upward, the base hidden within the dead-rich tunnels. It grew at a rate that exceeded even when one tree had cannibalized the other. Within a minute, it had actually grown around the church itself and continued to grow. Its massive branches now hung far enough that tendrils lashed out and tore the neighboring guardian trees apart. It reached the other carnivorous tree on that side and consumed it within moments. The bulk of its trunk continued to grow and great boughs hung over the outer wall of the courtyard itself. Tendrils darted down, out of sight, only to return with dozens of the invaders struggling in their grip.
Kelyan stroked his chin and tapped a finger toward where the graveyard had once been. “See, this is exactly why I plan on being cremated.”
Tiricah flung a hand out toward the tree. “THIS??? This is why? Exactly why?”
Kelyan sniffed. “Well, maybe not exactly why. But something like this.”
Soldiers, their tunics long discarded, and invaders alike rushed toward the castle. Demir’s wings blurred into motion and she flew to the top of the ramparts. “Open the doors!” The large doors creaked open and people streamed into the castle. Demir darted back down to Tiricah and Kelyan. She landed next to Tiricah and took his hand. “Is it possible…?”
His legs trembled at the thought of going anywhere near the tree. But it had to be stopped. And only he could do it. “Is the tunnel between the castle and church still there?”
Her eyes widened and she nodded. “Some sections are caved in, and it’s a bit of a maze down there, but yes. Yes—assuming the whole thing hasn’t collapsed—it should still be there.”
Tiricah licked his lips. Travel through the tunnel, emerge within the church which was now wrapped within the tree itself. It’d take them close to the center of the tree. From there, they’d have to find the actual enchantment. And who knew what the interior of the tree was like? All wood—or were those tendrils inside as well?
Kelyan put a hand on his shoulder. “We believe in you, love. We can do it.”
Tiricah touched Kelyan’s hand gratefully and offered a small smile to Demir. “It’ll be dangerous, but… I’m ready”—he glanced back at Kelyan—“to go out on a limb.”
“Oho!” Kelyan let out a delighted laugh.
Demir groaned. “I’ve married a pair of idiots.”
Tiricah chuckled and faced the tree. Even now, it continued to expand as it picked off invaders from over the wall. The trunk had exceeded the size of any natural tree. It had to be as thick as the castle itself at this point.
Kelyan straightened his entire skeletal arm and grasped his bone wrist. With a jerk, his arm dislocated all the way up to the upper arm bone, configured into a blade. The elbow and wrist held rigid and he raised the bone sword up with a maniacal grin. Demir reached behind her back and dislocated her wings. The outer edges were hard as iron and as sharp as an ax.
Tiricah stepped up, his left hand raised. The tip of the bones of his middle finger glowed with magic, ready to etch his way through whatever horrors they encountered.
His power shined with blood-red light.
And it felt like the seethe of hope.
