Chapter Three The Shard Of Irionite -3

Every wizard dreams of learning from the Alka Alon. The Tree Folk are

unparalleled masters of magic, though their style is almost

incomprehensible to an Imperially-trained mage, even though it is based on

the non-human's system. It is written that to the Tree People, every song is

a spell and every spell is a song; considering how much they like to sing,

it's no wonder they enjoy this reputation.

It is also written that they knew everything there was to know about

witchstones, which is why I was very anxious to confer with them.

Their culture is elegantly primitive. They eschew the written word in

favor of memorization and oral history. Their mastery over and fascination

with trees is famous (hence, their name). They can do amazing things with

wood, growing a tree into whatever shape they desire.

Their poetry is magnificent, what little we know of it. They are adept

musicians, and though their style of music is utterly inhuman it is beautiful

beyond mortal invention. No human could sing as sweet. They have a fouroctave range, although it's on the upper end of the scale, and they can sing

for minutes at a time between breaths.

It is said that the Tree Folk have no separate word for music, story,

history, or record. It's all covered by a single word, kala, which just means

"song." They didn't seem to use writing until they learned it from us, and

then they only use it to humor us.

While generally peaceful, we know they war among themselves and

with other races, using stone knives and small bows with stone arrowheads

that look barely strong enough to prick the skin. Once they had a great

civilization, the ruins of which still dot the Duchies, but now they have

retreated to their treehouses and given up iron and steel. They don't really

need it. Their enclaves are nearly impossible to enter by force. If anyone

has ever done it – Archmage, god, or demon – I've never heard about it. No

sane person attacks a Tree Folk clan.

They use no gold or other precious metal – they abhor worked metal at

all, preferring to shape their tools out of wood and stone – so they have

nothing worth stealing. They use small bows and tiny arrows tipped with a

wide variety of poisons that can either make you go into a peaceful sleep

for a few hours or die horribly and painfully over days. Their skill at

archery is legendary. Thirdly, you probably won't get close enough for them

to use their bows anyway.

They are sneaky buggers, and they use magic like we use pots and pans.

They know you are coming long before you get there, and when you do

show up they can make you blind, throw up illusions to perplex you, cause

your horse to rear in confusion, make you lose direction, make you forget

you were looking for them, or infest you so badly with biting insects that

you would just rather go home.

They were once masters of this world, we suspect from their own sagas.

One legend says that they were overlords of the other races. They are still

held in respect, if not god-like awe, by most of them to this day. Long

before Man came to these shores from Perwyn they were overthrown (says

one theory) or secluded themselves voluntarily (says another), abandoning

high civilization and retreating to their forest fortresses.

No one really knows how, when or why the Tree Folk gave up their

once great civilization and went back to their trees, but speculation has been

rampant in academic circles for centuries. When asked directly they are

annoyingly silent on the topic. Whatever their mysterious past, they now

interfere little with the affairs of the world beyond their trees, though they

still can have an effect on it when they choose. When the Tree Folk appear

in our own legends and histories, it is usually in the role of wise observer,

divine avenger, or mysterious magical benefactor.

The Alka Alon and the gurvani had a roughly similar level of

technology. Both lived by primitive agriculture and hunting and gathering,

and both dealt in rudimentary trade with us and each other. Both used

magic, had laws (after a fashion) and practiced religion. The gurvani even

had a slightly higher level of technology than the Tree Folk, from our

perspective, as they used primitive metallurgy while the Alka Alon

abhorred using metal.

The goblins also wore clothes, after a fashion, while the Tree Folk ran

around wearing only the occasional belt or harness, for carrying tools and

pouches or a reed flute or whatever else they want to carry, and let their

privates exposed.

I met my first Tree Folk in the jungles of the Farisian peninsula, during

that bloody campaign. They were never treated well by the remnants of the

old Empire (my people saw them as semidivine, but then again we rarely

had congress with them up on the northern steppes), and they were

delighted to help my unit through the jungles, including providing us with

supplies and a dry place to sleep.

I was impressed by their hospitality. I was even more impressed by their

culture. Their babies are always happy, their elderly are respected and

admired, and their clans were models of both efficiency and aesthetics. If

there was ever a bad-tempered Tree Folk, I'd never heard about it.

The gurvani I had met on the campaign, by contrast, seemed to have a

more brutal culture by human standards. After a short infancy, children are

expected to viciously compete for resources, and the weak and sickly are

given no favoritism: if they die, then the tribe is stronger for it. Tribal

leaders rule by strength of arms and come to power in individual duels.

Shamans are forged by cruel trials that are both physically punishing and

mentally challenging, and many do not live through the ordeal. Those who

do are extremely powerful and often serve as tribal leaders.

The gurvani written language, if you can call it that, is a hieroglyphic

system that contains only around sixty symbols. To their credit, it is their

own invention, developed long before humans came to this part of the

world. You can still see gurvani hieroglyphic inscriptions on stones in

Boval and far out into central Alshar. Locals usually call the Goblin Stones.

They have an elaborate pecking order that is held together by the brute

force of the leadership. While not overly warlike (despite folklore to the

contrary and recent events, the gurvani rarely attack human settlements)

they do have an elite warrior society, quasi-religious in nature, whose job it

is to defend the tribe. Their favorite weapons are the javelin and the club

(either wooden or iron), although tribes who live closer to humans have

picked up the bow and sword, and use them quite effectively.

In short, the gurvani are a lot more like us than the Tree Folk are.

Perhaps that's why we dislike and fear them so. And vice versa.

The Alka Alon, not the gurvani, are the undisputed masters of magic on

Callidore. It is said that even the gods seek their help when it comes to the

Art. Their spell signature is so distinct as to be unmistakable, and so

efficient that some fairly minor Tree Folk charms have lasted well over a

thousand years.

Their enclaves are found in rugged, inaccessible places remote from

dense human populations – places like Boval Vale. Ranging from small

settlements of a few hundred to living cities of thousands, they are content

to sing and grow wood and wander aimlessly through their own lands,

unmolested by the outside world. The local settlement at the northern end of

the valley was reportedly a large one, and while I hadn't visited there yet,

this seemed as good a time as any.

The Tree Folk were sure to know something about the gurvani raid.

Whether or not I could get them to tell me was another matter.