Unable to orient himself, Chasm became more and more enmeshed in the tree limbs. Below, Idaria stretched her arms up in an attempt to keep the roots from seizing them as well.
Stefan hacked with his sword at those that wrapped themselves around him. The blade flashed silver each time it struck, and Idaria could only suppose that Kiri-Jolith had blessed it. The roots fell away from his determined blows.
But the sword was one weapon against a multitude. Stefan held up the medallion and muttered a prayer.
The medallion’s light grew so bright, it should have blinded Idaria, but instead she took comfort in the glow. The trees visibly recoiled, however, and both the branches and roots abandoned their harassment of the trio.
Chasm dropped to the ground next to the elf, using his body and wings to shield her from any root or limb that might attack again. Stefan revolved in a circle, making certain the area was safe.
“I had to do it,” he explained, “but it likely means that the Titans will detect us and know something is amiss here.”
No sooner had he spoken than a bolt of lightning blacker than the shadows struck the ground just beyond his feet. The force of the eruption hurled Stefan into Chasm, who caught the human effortlessly. The knight had been struck, however, and was unconscious. The medallion’s glow faded.
Idaria sensed the forest seeking to creep forward again. She rushed over to Stefan, trying to help him.
“You needn’t bother. He hasn’t very long to live.”
Chasm growled. Idaria turned to the source of the foul voice, already aware of just who it was.
The Titan grinned down at her as he raised his hands in spellcasting.
X
The elf felt helpless. Stefan had been the one who had guided them that far. He had had the patronage of a god to aid him. But it was left to her; for Chasm, too, whatever his great strength, had his hands full.
Had that been the forest of Silvanost, her home, she might have turned to Habbakuk and pleaded with the god. It amazed her that he did not feel the wrongness of the forest.
And even as Idaria pondered that, a transformation came over the vicinity. As if some great hand pulled back the shroud that had draped over the trees and ground, the taint receded. A fresh and wholesome green colored the leaves and bushes, and the scent of spring overwhelmed the dank odors of the accursed forest. The trees took on a fresh, vibrant life; all their wickedness, all the Titan perversion, abruptly was gone.
The Titan faltered in his spell. “What-?”
Before he could utter another sound, the transformed area turned on him. Branches fell before his gaze, blinding him. More whirled around as if blown by the wind, striking the gargantuan sorcerer like battering rams. The Titan tried to collect his wits but clearly could not concentrate well enough even to muster a vanishing spell.
The very trap that the Titans had created overcame the lone spellcaster. Roots burrowed out of the freshened soil and seized him. He slashed with his talons at them, only to have his savage nails break off.
Idaria watched in awe, aware that somehow she was in part responsible for what was happening but uncertain just how. The Titan was already on his knees, due to not only the roots that coiled around his torso, but the continual rain of blows by the branches.
The blue-skinned sorcerer’s knee sank into softening dirt. Both legs plunged under, as if some huge beast below the surface were burrowing a hole.
Despite his obvious panic, the Titan glared. He stretched forth a hand at Idaria. “I’ll take you with-”
The ground gave way. With a howl, the fifteen-foot-tall villain dropped from sight.
Tree roots immediately covered the area, churning the dirt like massive worms. In seconds, there was no trace of the Titan even having been in that spot save a slight settling of fresh ground.
Idaria felt her pulse pounding. For the first time, she also sensed a warmth in her palm. Glancing down at it, the elf discovered Stefan’s medallion.
“I know this was not your sphere, Kiri-Jolith,” she whispered to the air, “but thank you.”
“K-Kiri-Jolith,” Stefan muttered. His eyes slowly opened. “Kiri-Idaria?”
She gestured for Chasm to gently lower him. The knight balanced himself, found his legs sturdy enough, and nodded. The gargoyle gave a satisfied grunt but stayed nearby.
“This belongs to you,” Idaria said, handing him the medallion. “But I thanked your patron for his aid.”
Stefan frowned. “I don’t think that’s possible. At least, not the way you say it. I think that another heard your plea through the medallion, perhaps through my patron, and responded.”
She looked at the nearby forest, which was still revivified. There was a permanence about it, she noted, that the rest of the tainted realm would not be able to overcome. A place of respite had been created in a land of darkness.
“Praise be to Habbakuk.” Like many elves, Idaria had lost much of her faith in the gods who supposedly watched over her people. None of them had stopped the invasions-first that of Mina and the Nerakans, then the sweep of the minotaurs-or had kept the forests from harm.
Yet perhaps she and her kind had been too harsh. Perhaps the gods had had no choice.
“Very curious,” Stefan announced, eyeing the path ahead.
Thinking that some other fiend approached, the silver-haired slave followed his gaze. “What is it now?”
“Nothing … and that’s what’s so curious.”
Chasm grunted his obvious confusion. Idaria shrugged, unable to clarify what Stefan was referring to.
Stefan gestured at the forest. “Where’s the others? Why hasn’t anyone come to see what has happened to their comrade? Surely, the rest of the Titans from the sanctum should be confronting us!”
“What do you think it means?” she asked, half expecting more Titans to sprout from the trees.
A slight smile crossed his beaten face. “It could mean that your Golgren has them stirred up elsewhere, especially in the south, since it’s too soon for my people.” His smile abruptly faded. “Or it could mean that Safrag is already the slave of the Fire Rose, and that bodes great ill.”
“Is that so terrible? It will mean dissension among them! They may end up fighting one another for it-”
“And, in the process, destroy others.”
Idaria nodded grimly. “But it means something else, too, does it not? It means that my people may be less guarded than we imagined.”
The knight frowned slightly. “Yes, it does.”
“Then we must take that into consideration, above all.”
Stefan eyed her for a moment then turned and led the way. Idaria knew what he thought of her, knew that at that moment she reminded him of Golgren-Golgren, who would drive resolutely toward his ultimate goal even if others might be harmed or threatened. The elf shrugged to herself; she could do nothing about the Titans and the Fire Rose. That was Golgren’s problem to deal with. All that mattered was releasing her people.
Yes, I have become like him, Idaria admitted to herself. Very much like him.
And oddly, she found herself wondering if that were such a terrible a thing after all.
The morning saw the southern reaches of Golthuu-the area still called the “province” of Blode-aswarm with armored soldiers. The distinctive banners of the minotaur legions fluttered high and proud, even more so because the day found them led not by mere generals, but by the emperor himself.
The legionaries were spread over several miles of shrub-filled wilderness. Contact had already been made with those legions who had advanced after the defunct pact with the false warlord Atolgus. Those soldiers were already settled in and served as the advance guard for the new incursion.