Albionic Authority: Activated

  The roots of the earth sprung up as Ethan flexed his new claws, wrapping Tara up like a kitten being swaddled by her lonely owner on a winter’s evening after a hard day at the office. She tumbled, writhed against the thick roots that now bound her, and pouted up at Ethan.

  “Well, unless you’ve got any funny ideas, I think it’s safe to say we can stop with the training today, eh?”

  Ethan chuckled and flexed his claw, releasing her.

  That skill was an interesting one for sure – with it, the very earth itself became his weapon:

  Albionic Authority: Grade C

  You command any plant life directly connected to the earth to fight for you for 30 seconds. Effects differ based on plant life affected

  Spirit Cores Required to Upgrade further: 950

  He stared up at the great Albion tree that loomed above the Grove itself. For a moment he wondered what would happen if he tried this skill on it. Around them was nothing but the solid foundations of the earth itself, as well as the Drytchlings who pitter-pottered around the tree without a care in the world. Would they really obey him just because he wore the body of their champion?

  Something he’d try another day.

  Instead, he unshackled Tara and helped her up.

  “You ready for another fight?” she asked his glowing eyes. “Because you know that this time, you’ll probably have to fight against humans again. And not Greycloaks.”

  Ethan considered this, watching the Drytchling infants as they paddled in the Albion pond with their ‘parents’ (if the tree-creatures could be considered parents in the traditional sense at all).

  “We focus on the Doctor’s minions like we planned,” he told her. “If humans try and get in our way, we push through them. But you know my rule on that.”

  The Minxit gave a heavy sigh. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Disable but don’t kill. They’re slaves, that’s all.’”

  Ethan smirked. “Now you’re getting it.”

  They watched the bark-skinned creatures continue their paddling, their throats croaking in joy as the human druids came among them to join in.

  “One thing’s for certain,” Tara said. “This world just gets weirder and weirder.”

  She seemed transfixed by the creatures – as though something was suddenly amiss. But Ethan was far more preoccupied with going over the battle plan in his head. Malak and he had devised a strategy that would allow them to break through the defenses of Sentinel and the control the Doctor had on the port town’s population. The old druid wasn’t helping them for nothing – he wanted to give the humans of the town the opportunity to join his Order rather than suffer under the yolk of their Blood Mage master.

  The plan was simple – Ethan would slip passed the Doctor’s Flesh Golem troops using his Root March ability. He’d throw the city gates open and then his team would secure the town center. After that, they simply had to do one more thing – something which Malak had assured them would win them the town in a matter of seconds.

  “Plant this in the town’s fountain,” he had said – offering Ethan a small, seemingly insignificant acorn from the bark of the great Albion tree. “And the beauty of the Grove shall be brought back to the land. Then shall we have safe passage to the castle of the Griffon. We shall assault it together, Archon, and the world shall know that you have returned.”

  Ethan grimaced. “I’d settle for just taking the Doctor guy down. Let the world say whatever it wants, but that old bastard’s gotta die.”

  He and the team had agreed to the plan, even as Fauna and Lamphrey had locked eyes and displayed the same hints of animosity Ethan had seen between them before. He’d have to ask Fauna about that sometime. There was something going on between those two…

  “…no way.”

  Ethan turned, catching Tara whispering to herself.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  The Minxit was fascinated by the Drytchlings – particularly the way the little ones were calling out to their parents in the pond, and the way those same parents lowered their bark-skinned arms, stroked the twig-like hair of the infants, and smiled down at them with joy in their otherwise hollow eyes.

  “…n-nothing,” she said, forcing herself to turn away. “How about another bout?”

  …

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Klax hummed a tuneless rhythm as he meditated alone at the apex of the Albion tree.

  He’d spoken with the brothers and sisters of Malak’s Order, and they’d explained the serenity that the surface of the Albion offered them. It was no exaggeration – just sitting here, touching the bark of the great tree with his paws, made him feel like he was connected to the earth. Almost more than that – he was connected to the life that flowed through all things.

  He breathed deep, inhaling the clear, pure air, and tried to banish the thoughts of that devil Haylock from his mind. What tortures he must have unleashed on Jun’Ei…what she must have endured for countless years while he was too much of a coward to seek her out…that thought was both a weight, and a compulsion to action. He’d find her, save her, and crush that ‘Doctor’ beneath his heel.

  Such thoughts were almost soothing to him now. He’d expected that, the closer he got to her, the more he’d fly into panic mode. But ever since the City of Illusions, where he’d almost seen his life and those of the only family he’d ever had ended in a flash, he’d been strangely calm.

  So, when he heard the shuffling of feet beside him, and the sound of old bones creaking as they bid their master crouch beside him, he barely even moved a muscle. There was nothing to fear from this place. He was convinced of it.

  The voice belonged to who he expected it would.

  “For me, it is the knees,” Malak said. “Yourself?”

  “Teeth,” Klax smiled. “At my age, my canines just aren’t as sharp as they used to be.”

  Both men chuckled.

  “It is a beautiful night,” Malak said.

  “It is indeed, Druid Malak. But your Grove is by far the most beautiful sight I’ve seen on the surface of Argwyll.”

  The old man gave a small, goodhearted chuckle.

  “It is home,” he said. “It has always been my home, and fort that I am grateful. But soon I will no longer be able to sit quietly as I once did – as you do now. Change is coming to this world, and we of the Order shall be its vanguard.”

  Klax opened his eyes, seeing the lines of age in the old man’s face. Humans rarely lived as long as Hybrids did, and at that their bodies tended to fail them as the years went on. Many humans of Argwyll had written extensively of their mortality – lamenting that their frail deeds would mean nothing against the constantly wheel of time.

  But most old men made peace with this notion when they got to Malak’s age. Klax saw no such peace in the old human’s eyes.

  “You understand this, don’t you?” Malak asked him suddenly, his hands petting the bark of the Albion beneath him affectionately, like it were some kind of domesticated pet. “Out of all your companions, even the Archon Himself, you seem the most attuned to your spirit, Klax. You led your people in the last great battle against the Greycloaks. You know that this world is in a dire state of decay, and in need of correction.”

  Klax nodded, cautious.

  “As long as such correction is right, and just,” he replied.

  Malak smiled at him. “Our cause is just. Of that, there is no doubt. We will bring the peace of the Grove to the world, and destroy those who would seek to control our destinies.”

  “I am…surprised that there are humans who oppose Kaedmon’s Law,” Klax admitted. “As I understand it, you are his “Chosen People’.

  Malak winced at the word, and then gestured to his old, wrinkled chest.

  “We are born into this world shackled,” he said. “Chained. For me, I was chained to the earth. When I first drew breath, before I even saw my mother’s face, I was shown my class: [Druid]. The large, bold letters traced themselves over my eyes and then burned their meaning into my skull. I felt…branded. And when I then looked into my mother’s eyes, I saw pain.”

  Klax nodded. “She was not of the Druid class.”

  “No,” Malak replied. “She was a [Baker]. Someone destined to live in the walled settlements of civilization. She knew, upon her appraisal of me, that she could not hide me from the enforcers of Kaedmon. And so she sent me here, to discover my destiny for myself.”

  The Albion tree shook suddenly, and Klax almost felt as though the thing were…alive. Listening to Malak’s words as though it had a heard that beat to the same tune as his.

  “I sought to understand what my purpose was,” the Druid whispered. “’One who is devoted to the protection of nature’. The words had no meaning for me. Those of the old Druid Order before we became the Fifth Pillar believed that protecting nature meant planting pretty flowers in gardens, ignoring the world outside the Grove. They were men who had blindly accepted their role. But I could not do it, Klax. Inside me was the will for something more.”

  The old man then turned back to Klax with the same fiery eyes he’d had before, only this time they seemed more focused. Present.

  Klax knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “You defined your role for yourself,” he said slowly. “You sought to defend nature through fighting, not gardening.”

  Malak nodded, “Precisely. And thus, a Bounty was placed on my head and has been ever since I took command of the Grove. But the old Order is gone now, Klax. We have made this place our salvation. And you have come to help us spread this idea to the rest of the world – that we can be whatever we want!”

  Klax shifted uncomfortably.

  This man may be old, but he has the spirit of youth still about him. The spirit of righteous anger.

  The Lycae let out a long sigh.

  “I have felt as you do, Malak,” he said. “But such anger never served me, and it is not why I’m here now. Love is. And it is stronger.”

  Malak blinked and then gave a little cough, backing away slightly.

  “…sometimes it is not as simple as that,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Love,” the old man said. “Love can blind us when we need to see the most. I loved once, Klax, but I did not see how it impeded my progress, and the progress of the Grove.”

  The old man stood suddenly, apparently concluding whatever he’d come here to do. Klax looked up at him, sensing some sudden impulse to flee the scene. Whatever was going on in the old druid’s head was far more pressing than what was happening in Klax’s.

  “If we are going to replace Kaedmon’s Law,” the Lycae said. “We will need to replace it with something more than just fury. Love, not hate, will bring the world peace. As a Druid, you must…”

  Malak turned suddenly and looked away, deep into the darkest tunnels of his home.

  “I have tried, Klax,” he said with a sad smile. “But some men do not require love. They forfeit that luxury when they assume the mantle of leadership – when they become more than just pawns in someone else’s game. They learn to let love go, so that their ideals can flourish, and so that evil can be banished from the realm. Men like me. And men like you.”

  The wolf met the eyes of the human with a sense of primal fear. His words were not those spoken by the aged, and the decrepit. They were words spoken by a very different kind of man. And when the Druid bid Klax goodnight, it was with this same, chilling voice:

  “Goodnight, good wolf,” he said. “When the dawn comes, we shall change this world. For the better.”