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Son of Root

Cyrus stepped to the edge of the cliff, and stared out at the expanding forest of pines far below. Their swaying tips towered high above the ground, reminding him of an emerald sea. Overhead, a flock of flametail sparrows flitted through the sky, their bright golden feathers catching the light of the sun. He counted fifteen in total before they dove into the canopy of needles, disappearing from his view. He frowned, and eyed the remainder of the woodland valley until his gaze fell upon a column of smoke, rising in rhythmic puffs in the distance. He tensed, his eyes widening in disbelief. Half a year. For half a year, he had traversed this god forsaken land, with no memories of his past, and only a strange amulet to his name. Not once during that time had he crossed paths with another person. Yet there they were, waiting at the bottom of the cliff. A slight breeze carried the scent of cooked meat to his nose. His mouth watered. 'Food. They must have food down there!' Quick on his feet, the young man leapt over the edge, his frayed cloak billowing around him as he hurtled towards the ground. Below, the pine trees rushed to meet him, their outstretched branches intertwining to form a bed of needles. Cyrus grinned, his heart racing. The familiar warmth of his magic flowed through his veins, accompanied by the soft whisper of the forest. Ten meters remained... Then five... One... … Son of Root is a story about a young man whose lost his memories, and possess nothing more than a strange amulet from his past. It will follow his journey across the lands of Arkendol, where the practice of magic is forbidden and those who wield it are feared. From the shadowy depths of this land, a deadly illness rises, brought forth by those who wish to see the downfall of its inhabitants. Who are these strange beings, and why do they seem to know Cyrus. The one they call Treeborn.

Osyras_Glass_4402 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
26 Chs

Crew

"Here it is. My father-in-law's home," Lewn said. He pulled back the curtain of the carriage, revealing a dark stone manor, three stories high, set along the edge of the kingdom. The road stretched past it, down to the harbor, which bustled with merchant ships and barges.

The carriage creaked to a stop, and the driver hopped down, opening the door with a bow. Neatly trimmed cypress trees lined the stone pathway leading to the doors, with hedges placed evenly along the sides, creating a welcoming aura.

"Shall I remain here, master Lewn?" Wilhos asked. 

Lewn nodded. "Yes. I doubt we'll take to long. This should just be a meeting so the Lord can meet Cyrus and Sylven."

"I understand," Wilhos said. He climbed back onto the carriage, and snapped the reins, guiding the horses towards a shaded spot, beneath a willow tree. 

"Should we act a certain way?" Cyrus asked. His chest tightened as Sylven shrugged.

The walkway led them to a set of stairs, which sat beneath a circular glass window. A large man stood behind the clear pane glass. His keen eyes narrowed as he rubbed his black beard, before turning away. 

"You don't need to worry," Lewn said. "Lord Vilcrest may be an intimidating man, but you can trust him. Although he doesn't promote magic, he won't turn on you for possessing it. Not to mention, he too, dislikes the Dilthane Order, and its presence in the kingdom."

They were met at the door by a middle aged man, with thinning brown hair, and an angular face. He stood taller than both Lewn and Sylven, though his wiry body revealed itself as he bowed.

"Master Lewn. It's a pleasure to see you again. Lord Silcrest is waiting for you in his office upstairs."

"Thank you, Quill. I know the way," Lewn said.

Quill bowed once more as they stepped inside, but eyed Cyrus and Sylven with a sharp glance. Then, he shut the door, and Lewn led them to a set of stairs leading to the second floor. As they passed through the foyer, Cyrus noted how clean it appeared, without a speck of dust to be seen on the redwood railing, or the dark oak ledges. 

Overhead, a beautiful glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, twice as large as the one in Lewn's house. The light reflecting from its crystals reflected off the chiseled stone walls, and pedestals of armor.

"Lord Silcrest has always been a bit… materialistic," Lewn whispered as they made their way upstairs. "You'll see what I mean once we reach his office."

At the top of the stairs, Lewn led the two down a short corridor lit by lanterns, to a large oaken door. After two knocks, a deep voice reverberated through the wood.

"You may enter."

Lewn pushed open the door, revealing a spacious room, with high arched walls, and sleek redwood shelves. The skeleton of a sea beast hung from the ceiling, at least six meters long, with a snake-like body, and two tusks jutting from its maw. 

Cyrus' eyes widened as he took in the rest of the room. More strange objects lined the shelves, from unique animal skulls, to gems and crystals. His gaze swept over the wooden carvings, silver artifacts, and glazed sculptures, until they reached the man seated against the desk.

His thick arms were crossed over his chest, and he watched them with a grin. His eyes glinted as Cyrus quickly shut his mouth, and straightened his back. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his tunic as he stood.

"Lewn. You've kept me waiting quite a while."

"My apologies, Lord Silcrest. Cyrus only awoke a few hours ago, and I had a bit of work left to do."

"Yes, yes. Your alchemy. I know. I'd ask you about it, but I know that's not why you're here," Lord Silcrest said. He motioned towards a set of couches beside a fireplace. "Please, have a seat."

As they sat, Lord Silcrest shifted his gaze to Cyrus and Sylven. "Lewn has explained the situation to me. He says the two of you are looking for a ship to the Cilthrin Shores, is that right?"

Cyrus nodded. "It is."

"I see," Lord Silcrest said. He leaned forward, and rested his arms on his knees. "I know of a few ships headed in that direction, but I doubt any of the captains would be too keen to take on passengers. Especially during these times."

Cyrus frowned. "Do you mean the stone curse?"

Lord Silcrest sat back, and arched his brow. "So you've heard about it? Indeed, all my ships are being cautious right now, as a few have already been wiped out. There's nowhere for people to escape when surrounded by leagues of open sea."

"Similar to what happened in the village we passed through," Sylven said. "A few of the people were affected, and they've closed their village to outsiders."

"Yes, I received that report, and sent out a group of the kingdom knights to investigate. If it's true, I'll have to send word to Galeden, now that the mountain pass has been cleared."

"The mountain pass is already cleared?" Cyrus asked. "When did that happen?"

"I believe it was a week ago. Although a few of the larger boulders remain, it is at least traversable now," Lord Silcrest said. "Either way, you can understand why so few captains would be willing to transport passengers right now."

"I see…" Cyrus said, frowning. "Is there another way?"

Lord Silcrest grinned. "I'm glad you asked. I do have one ship, who'd be willing to take you, if you're willing to work, that is. Captain Erdmun, a friend of mine, is a bit short of his crew this year, and needs a few more hands. What do you think? Would you be willing to work for your passage?"

Cyrus glanced at Sylven, who shrugged, then turned back to Lord Silcrest. "I don't see why not."

Lord Silcrest clapped his hands. "Good. If you want, we can meet the captain right now. He sets sail in a week, so it'd be best if you could become acquainted beforehand."

The old man rose back to his feet, and Cyrus, Sylven, and Lewn followed him back downstairs. From there, they made their way through the house, to a door in the right wing. Upon opening it, they were met by a path that led to the harbor, which only took five minutes to traverse. 

As they neared the bottom, the sound of waves overtook the sound of the kingdom, accompanied by the shouts of sturdy men as they called to one another. To Cyrus's surprise, anyone they approached quickly moved to the side, and bowed their heads to Lord Silcrest.

Everywhere Cyrus looked, the men gazed on with looks of respect and admiration, a few even murmuring amongst themselves in hushed tones. Lord Silcrest kept his gaze on the dock ahead, and his back straight, though he nodded to a few of the older men they passed.

Eventually, they reached a storehouse, brimming with men transporting crates, and chests. Leather tarps were draped over the boxes near the back, protecting them from leaks in the roof, or prying eyes, while a short balding man with a hooked nose watched the men like a hawk. 

"Afternoon, Valmen. How's the preparation for departure going?" Lord Silcrest asked.

The bald man whirled around, his serious expression breaking into a smile. "Lord Silcrest! It goes well. As long as we keep up this pace, we should be able to allow the men a day off before setting sail."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lord Silcrest said. He glanced around the storehouse, and frowned. "Is Erdmun around? I'd like to introduce him to these two young men."

Valmen eyed Cyrus and Sylven, then motioned towards a door at the back of the building. "He's in there. Spent the morning going over the route, and supplies list. Would you like me to get him?"

"No, that's quite alright," Lord Silcrest said. "We'll go see him."

As Lord Silcrest led the way through the storehouse, several of the men stopped and glanced over, studying Cyrus and Sylven. Sylven appeared unaffected by their looks, but Cyrus lowered his head, hoping to avoid notice.

Upon reaching the door, Lord Silcrest knocked three times, then flung the door open. There was a shriek, followed by the fluttering of pages as they flew into the air, and a clamoring for clothes. 

A moment later, a young woman scurried past the group, her face bright red, and her arms clutching her dress. A wave of boisterous laughter followed her outside as she nearly sprinted down the docks.

Lord Silcrest watched her leave with a brow raised, then poked his head in the door. On the other side, Cyrus spotted a young man standing in the middle of a lavish office, chest bare, and breeches around his knees.