20. Kami

20

Kami

T he next morning, the priest announces the commencement of the ceremony.

I'm put under a spell with the others, unable to move or speak, while a beautiful hymn in high fae is sung in honor of Beyrthnel the Bold.

The entire stadium of fae are singing, and my chest vibrates with the magic of prayer to a god long gone from this world, but still much loved.

A mystical vision unfolds before us. Magic unfurls to show a mighty elf in a foreign land. He's twice the size of Rilitar, fighting in a collage of changing battlefields.

His sword, spear, or lance are always dripping with blood.

Heads roll, body parts scatter, and demons and enemy fae are trampled as Beyrthnel the Bold rides them down on a black steed that breathes fire and has eyes like endless night.

The elf is fierce and wild, a whirling dervish of death as he plows through his enemies.

History unfolds before us until all that's left is a hill of bodies and blood. A banner with Beyrthnel's sigil—a five-headed hydra in white upon dark blue—sits atop that hill, waving in the wind.

A great cheer goes up, and the sound travels through me, awakening my limbs and voice once more.

"What the hell?" Ries snarls.

An image of the priest returns. "And now, my brothers and sisters, we welcome you to the Radiant Trials!"

The noise hurts my ears. When I can focus once more, I see that the guards have divided our group into two halves. Our side is guided toward a large portal that glows green. On the other side, the portal glows blue.

To me, green means grasses and trees, and blue means water.

I'm all for green.

Until a guard booms as we pass, "Survive the night and earn a weapon tomorrow for the games."

Large hands shove me through the portal.

I land, all alone, in a thickly treed forest that's unlike any I've ever visited.

No one is around me. None of the guys, at least, and I'm leery of calling out and attracting attention I don't need.

Is this the way it will be each time? For all our attempts at making a stand together, we keep being forced apart.

First with the nagas, and now here.

I try to commune with the nearest tree, interested in the odd leaves that look like none I've ever seen.

The bark of these trees is black, the leaves a deep, dark green with variegated shades of lime and sweet moss. Around me are other trees and bushes, all foreign to the typical pines and oaks I'm used to.

Here, the leaves are paddle-shaped or thin and spiky. Others are thick shapes of broad grass, while still others offer lush heart shapes and connected strings that make me think of spiders. There's pink and red mixed in with yellows and greens.

Everything is sharper, brighter, and somehow denser.

The humidity is high, and the forest is more like something I once read about in books.

A jungle, with vines and trees and thick greenery everywhere. The sounds of animals come as well, hoarse grunts, shrieks, and the predatory warning of hunting birds in the night sky. Wait, no.

A few beams of sunlight pierce the odd hole in the canopy high above, creating speckled swirls of light along the jungle floor.

Buried under lofty boughs with foliage blocking the sun, I'm in a forced darkness down here. Not so dark I can't see, but dark enough that it feels as if thunderclouds are thick and expectant with rain, throwing me in shade.

The air is sweet though, not rotten and coppery like in the naga den.

A breeze blows as well. Though it's humid and sticky, the warm air refreshes.

Odd that this forest of trees would be so warm considering it's still fairly cool out, our northern spring season never one for heat waves.

Footsteps approach, and I hurry into the shadow of a large tree and grow still, preparing to talk to it.

But the tree won't let me in.

I wish I was surprised.

They had to use magic to thwart a dryad in an environment like this, I suppose.

While trying to figure out what to do next, I spot a short, brawny fae pause by a tree across a small clearing.

He's leaning over and breathing hard, his skin a shade of brownish-gray, his ears pointed, his hands as thick as bricks. He reads like some kind of gnome to me.

That's not a plus because gnomes are super strong and can be super vicious.

"Fucking werewolves," he swears.

Ah, he must have escaped a small pack. But are those werewolves fellow prisoners or monsters working on behalf of the war god and these stupid games?

I figure I'm about to find out, because one such monster enters the scene.

The fae hasn't spotted him yet.

When he turns, he doesn't see a werewolf. He sees a small tree.

Wait. Where did the shifter go? I glanced away for just a few seconds.

How did that get there? I'm puzzled. Unless I, too, am seeing things.

The gnome looks around, studies the tree, and keeps moving.

Until the tree turns back into the werewolf and attacks the fae from behind.

I'm frozen, not sure what the hell to do. I should help. Maybe.

But that gnome looks like one of the fae who were eyeballing me earlier. I don't trust him.

Damn. I wish Oz and the guys were here.

So I wait and watch as the werewolf shoves the fae to the ground, belly-down. No easy feat since the gnome is putting up a fight, insanely strong.

He curses as the werewolf atop him changes once more, turning tree-like. In the shape of a man, yet with a wooden frame and growing leaves .

A tree man? What the heck? Its form is morphing, its ribs branching into a cage on either side of the gnome.

"Get off." The gnome bucks then screams when roots pierce his hands.

The tree man grows more vines that strip the fae of his clothing, the tearing loud in the silence broke only by the gnome's struggles.

He cries out in pain, cursing the tree man to a horrible fate.

I peer closer but can't be sure what I'm seeing.

But it looks like… It looks like…

I blink, horrified.

The tree man is on top of the gnome, its movements simulating sex, if I'm not mistaken.

And the gnome is far from willing if his screams are anything to go by.

I need to stop this. I have to.

Just as I scare up the energy to step up, the gnome's shrieks turn to sounds of pleasure, not pain. I'm really confused because he's bleeding into the ground, the tree man having ceased moving.

They're joined though, from what I can tell. Wooden dick to fleshy gnome.

Beyond bizarre and just…

The fae is grunting and making all the sounds that lead to climax.

Just as he shouts, the tree man lifts them both off the ground, directing the gnome's ejaculate.

Where he spills, flowers appear. Like a spigot watering fertile ground, the gnome's seed continues to sprout new growth. And all the while, the gnome is slowly consumed, absorbed by the tree man.

I have never seen anything like this, and I can't look away.

When they're finally one, the tree man morphs into the dead gnome, taking on his size and stature. The flowers on the ground tremble and move, coalescing into a brand-new sapling.

Beautiful and young, created from the death of its maker.

I'm a dryad. I know trees. I love trees.

But that is fucking horrifying.

How will I know if anyone I come across is real or one of these manufactured tree people?

The tree man/gnome smiles and walks away, disappearing once more into the shadows of the jungle.

I glance around, and seeing myself alone once more, tiptoe over to the monstrous sapling.

Reaching out with my mind, I try to get a feel for it.

I get nothing.

Damn.

I try harder. Still nothing, so I reach out to stroke a small bud with my fingers. The physical connection lets me in, and to my surprise, I find it welcoming.

A little too welcoming.

I pull back in haste and hop back before it can sink its creeping tendrils into my bare feet. I cast it a warning, from one tree bitch to another.

It tries to stick me with a growing vine filled with thorns.

Not cool.

I grab the vines and deliberately grip hard, bleeding onto it.

My turn, you little creep.

The baby tree is no match for my weird power and soon becomes what I want it to be—a Kami tree. One that can only subsist on blood and flesh.

A monster, but one I can call my own.

Now I just have to figure out how to steer clear of everyone so that I don't fall victim to any tree men .

Because if I have to be close enough to touch a guy to figure out who or what he is, I'll be that much closer to danger.

"Kami, hey."

I turn to see Oz.

He waves as he steps into the small clearing, all smiles.

Shoot. Time to figure out if he's a monster or my monster.

And fast, because I'm not strong enough to defeat this orc.

If it's a tree man and can take on the power of those it consumes, I am definitely in real trouble.

Right fucking now.