Chapter 41: To the Ending Grove

Chapter 41: To the Ending Grove

Inside her newly acquired dimensional storage, Tala reached out and placed her right hand back on one wall and pushed power out, directing it straight from her gate into the surface just as she had with the first cargo wagon shed tried to empower.

The wall greedily drank in the magic, and there didnt seem to be any resistance due to her lack of a mental construct to shape the power.

Even more interesting. As she continued to feed the wall magic, she watched the hole overhead shift slightly to rest beside one wall and gray ladder rungs sprout from the wall, along with shelving around the opening itself.

Now, this is amazing. The changes shed described were complete, so she cut the flow of power and pulled her hand away. As she did so, she felt a staggering, whole body exhaustion set in. She felt nearly as bad as she had after creating her first Archon star. What was that?

As she thought back, she realized that the lack of resistance had caused her to dramatically underestimate the amount of power she was funneling into the artifact. Instead of just taking power directly from her gate, shed been pulling from the reserves around her keystone. She was used to draining water from a spout, and this had been like removing the top of the barrel and overturning it.

She groaned. No fair. Im trying to work with you, and you drain me?

There wasnt a response, per se, but the feeling of expectant waiting diminished to almost nothing.

Thats not an apology, but Ill take it. Tala, youre talking to your pouch She groaned, again, and pulled herself up the ladder and out of the hole. With stiff movements, she placed all her carefully arranged piles onto the shelves surrounding the hole, and drew the pouch closed, satisfied. She absently patted the side of the bag. Not too bad. Not helping. Sanity check, Tala.

She moved through some brief stretching to relieve the soreness, but she knew that her physical ache was just a manifestation of deep magical exhaustion.

She eyed the two items that shed left out, aside from her clothing for tomorrow.

The vial containing her blood Archon star and the artifact knife.

Tala, youre tired. Dont do anything foolish. She picked up the vial and opened the top, looking in on the drop of blood.

She held the knife in her other hand and looked back and forth between the two. Whats the worst that could happen?

Tala tipped the vial over, dripping the blood onto the pommel of the knife and directly into the small void in its magic.

As shed hoped, the magic of the knife accepted the Archon star with ease; the blood vanished as if she were confirming a contract.

She watched in fascination with her mage-sight as the artifacts magic subtly shifted to incorporate her Archon star. Physically, the knife darkened in color until the steel was an almost black grey. In the handle, more of the flecks took on a red tint, and those that were already red brightened in color.

Just as with the Archon star itself, Tala was now aware of exactly where the knife was, and its current condition: perfectly fine.

Then, she was struck with a hammer of weariness. She would have said it was soul deep, and that was more accurate than shed like to admit, even to herself.

She dropped the knife and crawled lethargically to her bed, before collapsing into blissful sleep.

* * *

Tala groaned into wakefulness, the room positively glowing around her.

She immediately felt her knife nearby, and fumbled around on the bed, trying to find where shed dropped it. Her hand met the hilt. There you are.

Lying there in her comfortable bed, she felt a flickering wave of tiredness threaten to pull her back into slumber, but she resisted. Nope! Time to get up, Tala.

She pushed herself upright, looking around the brightly lit room.

The artifact lights were still glowing, but their illumination was pale compared to the outside wall of her room, which positively radiated luminescence under the dawns light.

East facing room, indeed. She glanced down at the knife and quirked a smile, setting it on her bedside table. It was good to have a weapon, ready to hand. If Id had that under the wagon, Id not have needed the soldiers sword.

She hesitated at that. I had my camp knife. I did need a sword. Still, she felt like her new knife would have fit the bill, somehow. Strange.

She stood and arched backwards, first working out the kinks of a night spent in an unnatural position. After that, she moved through her morning stretches, looking within herself to verify that each was targeting the correct muscle groups. That done, she moved through her exercises, deciding to add a couple at the end when she noticed several sectors of muscle that werent worked well enough.

That done, she turned towards the bath, but hesitated. After a brief pause, she picked up her belt pouch, and her sheathed knife, taking them with her into the bathroom.

After a quick bath- she was running later than usual, after all -she refreshed her salve, guided by the magic detector. Both the salve and detector, she pulled from the pouch, and both were returned.

Finally dry and ready, she let out a long sigh. Last time I have to put these on. She pulled out her blood-stained clothing and pulled it on.

They werent precisely filthy, but they were far from clean. The seamstress should have something better, this afternoon. She needed to move quickly, if she was going to get to eat breakfast, swing by the blacksmith, and get to the ending grove that Trent had marked for her before noon. Thats what I get for sleeping late, I suppose.

Dressed, with her knife and pouch at her belt, she surveyed the room. There was nothing of hers remaining. Ill be back. Still, it didnt feel like her room, not permanently. Thats good; it isnt.

She left, heading back to the dining hall, where she was able to grab a quick, hearty, and portable breakfast, foregoing the huge spread in favor of a less awesome, but more grab-and-go meal. They would only let her have two cups of coffee, so she guzzled those before departing.

Cloth sack of food safely tucked in her pouch, she strode from the inn and towards the blacksmith.

It was a bright morning, and even after her routine tasks, it was still somewhat early. There were citizens walking about, but not nearly as many as there would be soon enough. She pulled one piece of her breakfast out after another, eating them with gusto to sate her all too familiar hunger.

I really need to get better about monitoring my expenditure of power Using magic didnt directly affect her hunger, but the mental and physical strain of such definitely contributed to her appetite.

The blacksmith was waiting for her when she arrived, and she paid him the additional silver for prompt delivery of her tools.

The pliers easily vanished into the bag, but she had a bit of a comical time maneuvering the fruit picker, on its 10-foot pole, into her pouch. She ended up having to angle it quite extremely to allow it to fit well enough for her to draw the bag closed.

Thank you, Pedrin. The poor man had watched with obviously subdued mirth at her struggles.

Our pleasure, Mistress. I hope that you return to us again, for any of your smithing needs.

I believe I just might. Good day.

Good day, Mistress.

Without further delay, she strode towards the eastern-most gate, as that was the one closest to the grove she sought. The streets were beginning to get busy, and the sky overhead was becoming a true, pale sky-blue as day took firm hold at last.

She grinned to herself, licking the last of her breakfast from her fingers. Today will be a good day.

There was a short line to exit the gate, and she waited patientlyfor the most part.

It took the better part of a quarter hour to reach the front of the line.

Name, reason for departing, and time of expected return?

Mage Tala, on a personal errand, and late afternoon.

The guard frowned. I dont see you on any jobs list for outside the city.

As I said, Ive a personal errand.N0v3lRealm was the platform where this chapter was initially revealed on N0v3l.B1n.

The bird stood upright, clearly perking up at the idea. It shifted back and forth, from foot to foot as it waited.

Tala fished out a big chunk of jerky and contemplated for a moment. Im not letting it get close to my hand even if it cant actually bite off my fingers. On a whim, she pulled back and tossed it off to the side.

A ripple of magic passed over the terror bird, and it shrunk to the size of a large cat. A second pulse caused it to vanish from where it had been and reappear alongside the still flying jerky, which it snapped from the air. A third pulse of magic took the bird and jerky from her sight altogether.

She didnt feel any other points of dimensional power, so it had moved out of her mage-sight range. The entire process, shrinking and transporting twice, had taken the bird less than an eyeblink.

That is a terrifying creatureI cant continue to call it bird. It needs a name. Something else to think on.

She sighed and turned to continue her trek through the lush wilds, towards the distant grove.

* * *

Almost an hour later, she had the distinct impression that the bird was back, even though she hadnt sensed any dimensional magic. Following a self-destructive whim, she fished out a second, large hunk of jerky and randomly flung it to the side.

Twenty feet from her, the jerky encountered a brief flicker of dimensional power and vanished.

She hadnt seen the bird at all.

You know, she called out, I cant just feed you for free. There has to be some give and take, here.

There wasnt a response, and she didnt have any way of knowing if the creature had heard her. It doesnt really matter. Im talking to a bird.

She crested a small rise, small enough to not have been depicted on Trents map, and she saw the grove of ending trees before her.

They were starkly beautiful in their loneliness. This used to be part of the farmland, around Alefast.

Unlike in other clusters of trees that shed passed, no other foliage grew near them, and every tree looked exactly the same. Well, not exactly the same. They were clearly all the same species, though.

I wonder why the one we passed on our way here was alone, but these seem to be living in harmony? They were often close enough for the branches to touch, and their unnatural swaying caused the limbs to click or rasp together, creating a constant undercurrent of fairly disturbing sound. So, thats what I was hearing. The sound had been growing louder, the portion of the trek.

Tala glanced down at herself. She was not fond of the state of her clothing, but she had no interest in having to trudge back to the city naked. Ive still got the shirt the terror bird ripped open, and the one with a hole in the chest from where Brand stabbed me.

Her pants were in a little better state, thankfully. The bloodstained shirt was her most intact shirt, but she could work with the cut and stabbed ones if necessary.

Her belt, however, that she wasnt willing to lose.

Toward that end, she decided to use her iron salve on the belt and belt pouch, both. She reasoned that the belt-pouchs magic, like her own, was below the surface, so it wouldnt be negatively affected by the salve. In addition, the opening would still be free to draw in magic, as it had continued to do throughout her trek.

That decided, she opened the pouch and found two surprises:

First, the fruit picker was clearly standing upright, instead of at the crazed angle shed finagled it into, in order to close it. When she peeked inside, it appeared as if a hole, just bigger than the handle, had opened up, going deep enough for the entire lower portion of the tool to fit in, allowing the basket and hooks at the top to rest comfortably within reach, while still being out of the way. Huh. Thats pretty neat.

Second, the items shed place on the upper shelf now each seemed to have somewhat customized resting places, allowing for more secure storage and easier access.

I think Im going to like you, bag. She decided that the storages ability to mold itself was likely directly connected to how much power it could draw in, so her being outside the city had allowed it to shift more easily. Seems that feeding you magic is going to be a wise decision. It cant possibly be a bad idea to give power to a semi-sapient, dimension-warping item. Not at all.

Changes noted, Tala got to work. She pulled out her small glue bottle and painted her palms with the flexible substance. As soon as the paste had dried on her palms and the inside faces of her fingers, Tala pulled out an iron salve bar, and working the salve into the leather of her belt, and the outside of the dimensional belt pouch. That done, she placed her knife into the pouch, and pulled out the fruit picker.

With deliberate care, she worked iron salve into the entirety of the ten-foot wooden handle of the tool. Patience in the present removes frustration in the future.

Her work finally complete, she stood, ready to approach the ending grove.

She wore her blood-stained shirt, and shed changed into the pants that were similarly speckled. Her belt held only the belt pouch, and her hands held only the fruit picker. Lets do this.

She walked forward and spotted the first bunch of ending-berries on the closest tree.

She carefully maneuvered her fruit picker up and used the hooks to pull the berries free.

As she did so, several of the nearby branches swayed to bump the wooden handle of the tool. Thankfully, the iron salve protected it just fine, and nothing came of the interactions save brief, impotent flashes of magical power.

She moved methodically around the edges of the grove, trying to stay out of reach of the moving branches. She had only gotten the fruit pickers basket about half full, when a tree moved much more than any previously had.

She had no warning as a branch descended and impacted her back.

There wasnt nearly enough force to harm her, or even knock her off balance, but the trees magic was still imparted.

A ripple of destructive, disintegrating power flowed across her skin, but couldnt penetrate her own application of iron salve.

Her shirt did not fare so well, and it puffed to dust, falling to the ground around her.

Tala groaned, looking down at herself. Thats just great.

She had a decision to make. Was she going to continue harvesting half naked, or would she risk another shirt?

The one the bird tore up wouldnt be too much of a loss.

She stepped away from the grove and pulled that shirt out, putting it on, quickly. There.

As she looked back towards the grove, she paused. Not worth it. She removed her belt, placing that within her pouch, and then tucked the pouch beside a very prominent rock. Much safer to leave it here.

Moving back to the edge of the tree line, she was even more careful as she continued to fill her basket, dodging the increasingly numerous, wildly moving limbs.

Finally, shed filled the little basket of her fruit picker, so she withdrew to a nearby boulder, which was poking out of a rather lush field.

She retrieved the dimensional pouch from the base of the rock and fished out one of the jugs, placing it securely between her legs on the rock. Then, with the pole leaning against the rock so the basket was in easy reach, she went to work.

In quick succession, she would take up an ending-berry, twist it apart, and drop the two halves into the open jug. The seed would go into her mouth, where she would suck off the juice, enjoying the building buzz of power. Then, she would take the seed and hurtle it back into the ending grove, where it would land among the roots of its ancestral kin.

To her surprise, the seeds of these ending-berries did not build towards destruction nearly as quickly as those of the lone tree in the wilds had. As a result, she had almost a minute to work with each berry, if she so chose, leaving it a far less dangerous process.

Maybe this is why there werent any other trees around that one? None of the seeds could get far enough away for the seedlings to establish It was an interesting thought. Though, the closeness of the trees in the grove before her made that an unlikely reason.

Shed considered keeping the ending seeds, as she had those from that singular tree, but in the end, she realized that she didnt want to be carrying around what amounted to a massive box of destruction.

Trent would approve of her decision, she assured herself, and that helped make the choice all the firmer.

Many of the ending-berries had retained their stems. For those, she used the iron pliers to help her remove the stems, before she processed the berries like the others. In the end, the single basket from the fruit picker allowed her to fill the jug somewhere between a quarter and a third full.

Alright. Now, were getting somewhere. And back to work she went.