Secrets of the Ancient Grove

By J. Silverpine and Cyan Zweig

Petal is a lukka girl living in an ancient forest on her native planet, Tynea. When she witnesses the stunning metamorphosis of a tree she often sings to, Petal and her tree-friend plunge into a secret world of enchantment, culminating in a thrilling, perilous journey. Secrets of the Ancient Grove is a story for all ages, a masterfully-interwoven mixture of fantasy and science fiction, filled with mystery, adventure, and magic!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483590387

Book preview

Chapter One

Forest Friend

One-thousand-nine-hundred-seventy-one years ago, near the end of the 7th Achaia Echo…

Tynea’s eldest Tree had been resting below a treasure for several thousand years before he had realized what lay above him. He prided himself a little too much for being intuitive, but she had tapped out of the Rootplexus, and that is what allowed her to escape his detection for so long. As gently as he could possibly manage, he reached up to make contact with Dharhala.

The eldest Tree had to be immeasurably precise when their rootlets converged; for, from experience, he knew a communication wave sent by him either too wakened or too suddenly might end the other’s life.

Dharhala was enjoying the lovely spring day… her bark still fairly clean from winter rains and the coming parasites of summer, an eakon scoring the air above her canopy, breaking wind speeds of all other fliers. For the last twenty-some-odd thousand years she had drifted closer to the

Lower Hold

(which is what the Achaias call the afterlife), beyond the age of fearing her death. And with this drifting came increasing peace as well as a lowered desire to converse with her species. She mostly stood less-boundaried now, tuning into more of the subtle exchanges of wooden things. But also of insects near her, flowers and ferns beneath her umbrella… even the wind seemed now to carry messages. Laziness and growth and warmth, with nothing unusual, it whispered today…

Except, there was this low-pitched racking, still, that had caused her some pain in her roots for several months. It was intensifying today, with more dramatic pressure-pulses like the pounding of your heart through an injured area. Dharhala guessed this was the thing that would end her life and had, as such, chosen to ignore it as long as possible. She wanted to savor one more spring. And to teach the current Zenith a few more things she’d learned about being a good leader.

But today was not Dharhala’s day to die. It was the day she found out a secret only one other on Tynea knew. And that other was the one sending the message.

Dharhala opened her root to let the pulsing in. To investigate.

If I am going to die today or someday soon after, I may as well get to it, thought she.

She was immediately filled with images of Chocoa Trees, their weighty branches protruding in more complex patterns than hers in their search for light. Breathy voices reverberating underground. The bite of a signal from one of the elder Trees.

Wait…Dharhala thought, here it is again—the eldest Chocoa… is HERE. What? How can that be?

You are hundreds of clicks away. I must be getting demented…

"No, Achaia. I am really here."

The reply was unlike any Tree communication she had ever heard. And she had heard them all in her 221,000 years. Dharhala had been tapped into Global Confluences—the meetings between multitudes of Trees on Tynea—nine or ten times in her life, but she had never sensed a Tree the way she was sensing this ancient. Powerful shocks zapped her rootlets, partially searing them every time he spoke. Yet, his communication felt much less direct than that of other Trees, as if a bubble surrounded each of his words. These two extreme, contradictory sensations puzzled the Achaia.

The oldest one tapped communication globules lightly onto Dharhala’s deepest root seven hundred feet below ground.

Am I hurting you?

Suddenly, Dharhala comprehended who he was. She straightened more quickly than she had in many years, causing a patch of bark the size of a small car to burst like the seeds of a pomegranate when opened.

A bit… But I’m okay.

This is as gentle as I can get.

"What… on Tynea are you doing here? And… How are you here? I can feel your root—"

Very perceptive. I wasn’t actually going to tell you that. But, yes, I am here in the flesh. Where your rootlets burn I am touching you.

"With… a root?! Your trunk must be nearly a thousand clicks away!"

The Chocoa did not answer her question, but moved on to more pressing matters.

I understand you used to be Zenith of your species.

Yes, answered Dharhala, a little uncertainly. But that was more than forty-thousand years ago.

And taking the oath of Zenith you agreed to forever after keep confidence of any Tree in your charge?

Yes…

Will you extend this confidence to a Tree of another species, Achaia? For that I wish to converse with you I wish to remain, for the time being, just between us.

Dharhala could hardly refuse out of pure curiosity, for Trees are, contrary to common earthly knowledge, more curious even than house cats. Though, she knew afterward she would regret not being able to tell anyone about the encounter.

I will of course extend you my confidence.

Good. There’s a matter I would like to discuss with you. Dharhala moved a fresh, uncharred root near the Chocoa and nursed her wound. The elder Tree tapped into her new root without hesitation. Dharhala squawked. He ignored the sound. As you must be aware, I have been around for a very, very long time. I don’t remember much about my sapling years except that I only had one friend for—it must have been—thousands of years. He was someone who would often visit me. Somehow he knew how to give me exactly what I needed. Often he brought me water, and sometimes minerals. I actually thought of him as a father back then, the way an animal must bond with a parent. Funny, isn’t it? A Tree taking to an individual instead of a whole grove of elders…

The Chocoa laughed (issuing piercing, painful energy packets), at which Dharhala withdrew her root. But he soon took her back in his hold.

It is about this friend of mine I wish to speak to you. He is a flier. And he has recently been coming round again… Would you like to hear how we met?

Of course, encouraged the Achaia. But please do warn me if you are going to laugh again.

In the recent past…

Twelve eyes surreptitiously appeared above a giant twig nest built in the elbow of an old Achaia Tree. There they hung silently on the movements and sounds of the forest below, diligently scanning north and then slowly south over their entire domain. Searching. For some meaningful sign. But they seemed unimpressed with any regular goings-on of the gray, drippy day, and after some moments they abruptly popped below the nest rim. The wind picked up for a moment, bringing down the few remaining dead, jointed leaves from the upper canopy. One of them landed scratchily on the lukka girl’s leg, which Petal usually took as a sign of good fortune. She brushed this one off hastily.

Pleeeeeease, Mama? begged Petal in the quietest whisper a child in the Matilea family could muster (which was not actually so quiet). I’ll only be gone fer a minute and I won’t be late for school! Petal’s eyes widened, her breath fogged the air in front of her.

Her mother sat making breakfast on the nest rim. "All right, Petal. You can go for two minutes. But remind me first—why is it so important to go into the forest right now?"

"Because I filled my basket with water last night and I wanna see if there is any Aerials dancing in it. They only come out at night, and they might still be in my basket!" Petal frowned hard at her mother, who was not looking at her.

Right, Rubia remembered vaguely, nodding. And what do these Aerials look like again? She kneaded a yellowish mush in a basket, wiped her hands on some moss in her lap, and carefully sprinkled fresh Orangines, cut into quarters, on top. (Orangines are a little bigger than kumquats from your planet, and they taste just as sour.)

Petal shook her head and pushed the basket away. She got up on her feet and took her mother by the shoulders.

"You know, Mommy! Grandma told us about them like a thousand times! Don’t you remember the sparklyfluffy Aerials that swim through the sky? They don’t even make any sound when they fly cuz they are so fluffy they glide through the air instead of the air gliding over them. Don’t you remember this?!"

Right… The mother lukka wiped away a smile. Petal noticed, and the frown lines on her face deepened. But remind me why Aerials might be in your basket?

"Mommy! Grandma told us!" Petal whined.

But her mother lowered her chin and pierced her eyes at Petal, and the lukka girl knew, just as you would, that her mother had grown impatient with Petal’s disrespectful tone. So Petal did what she knew would appease her mother instantly, promptly sitting back on her heels, taking a few quick bites of the nearly-inedible, sour, fruity porridge. She swallowed hard and pursed her lips to show Mommy she really should find more tasteful fruits for breakfast.

"They like to collect water from tiny pools for their… for their… I can’t remember what for! But my basket is a tiny pool of water! I can’t talk anymore. I’m wasting Aerial-time!"

Petal flung down the basket, bulleted out the nest, scored down fifteen feet of Achaia trunk with the billhooks on her inner shins, flopped over the big rocks like a clumsy fish, skipped into the clearing, and scampered down the center forest path. She ran as fast as a seven-year-old lukka can run half a click (which is not very fast compared to a human child). Petal knew full well she hadn’t been polite before bolting from the nest. And yes, she knew there would be a consequence for that. But right now she didn’t care.

The lukka girl came to the poison-diversilo patch and stopped running. Woodland silence compressed her eardrums and intentions. The air here smelled deeply musty, smelled of creatures mysteriously craggled and old. And being in it always quieted Petal’s heart.

Cautiously, the lukka crept up to the Achaian triangle—a massive protrusion of three red-barked, blue-leaved, fir-like Trees nearly connected at their bases. You call this a fairy ring on Earth, and to be in the middle of one is to be seeking the world of fairies. To lukkas, this magical space is known as an aeriangle—a place where Aerials are known to appear sometimes to the most fortunate of lukka children. And the young lukka inspected the center of this aeriangle, where she had left her small, watertight basket.

She felt the pang of disappointment stab her throat when she saw the basket was empty. As she looked closer, however, Petal noticed some bubbling near the edge closest to her. Peering soundlessly down, she watched a tiny, sparkly, smooth, purplish creature extending and contracting its web-like limbs in the pool. Its puff-ball feet kicked surface water in fizzy bursts while it hummed a cheerful melody.

The splashing stopped. Petal heard her own breath as it might sound to a small creature: in and out she heaved like an earthly elephant. Suddenly the top of a tiny, wet, purple head and voluminous green eyes appeared over the edge of the basket. The two beings stared at each other for a split second. Petal opened her mouth to tell the Aerial her name. At the same moment the Aerial opened her mouth and gave a short, high-pitched shout, after which she hoisted herself out of the water and, with very wet wings, cumbersomely sped away through the air, leaving a sparkly purple trail. The whole sight was so extraordinary and auspicious that Petal laughed aloud. She dashed into the aeriangle, waving her hand through the glitter track. As soon as she caught them the sparkles disappeared into her skin; they left behind a tingly sensation, which Petal decided must be the way magic feels.

She giggled once more over those wide, green eyes and wet head. Then she heard someone else laugh. A quiet, shy sort of laugh.

Is that you, Aerial? asked Petal cautiously.

No answer. Nothing purple was to be seen in the air from her vantage point. And, as far as she could tell, nothing purple had landed anywhere within the aeriangle.

I didn’t want to scare you, answered a soft voice.

You didn’t, assured Petal, don’t worry… She looked more carefully for the Aerial. Have you turned invisible?

No, laughed the voice, I just didn’t want to frighten you so I’ve been hiding. It was the softest voice she had ever heard.

Aerials must have soft voices when they speak Lukkan, thought Petal.

You can come out, Aerial, coaxed the lukka. I am not frightened of you.

But I am not an Aerial, Petal.

There was a long silence. Petal shifted uneasily, looking behind her, thinking, I really should be going to school now.

But something froze her. She had to know who it was. Even though she was scared.

The voice spoke again. I have been watching you for so long, from high up sometimes, wanting to play with you, it said.

It was a girl’s voice, Petal gathered, one from a girl about her age. Could it be there was a lukka village girl living in the forest? One she had never met? It seemed impossible, yet she did not at all recognize the voice.

Petal watched as a lukka girl slowly emerged from behind the aeriangle Tree opposite her.

Who are you?

The newly-met lukka girl looked around at the Trees with darting eyes and then settled her gaze on Petal. She moved forward, out of the protection of the Achaia trunk, into the softly-subsiding floor amid the aeriangle.

Are you one of the Pruxton cousins? Petal wondered aloud. Her brows came close together as she thought. Petal knew the Pruxton kids had several relatives living in faraway places—cousins she had never met.

No…? the girl replied, her voice rising in pitch at the end as if her answer were a question of its own.

One of the Flaviorn’s grandchildren? Petal had an affectionate, tasty relationship with the Flaviorns (who always had a loaf of bread to share at visits), whose grandchildren were numerous but visited infrequently.

The girl shook her head. She moved closer. Petal noticed a tynean smell about the girl. It reminded her of jeets—red vegetables, one of the roots lukkas were fond of for their nutritious mineral content and loamy (dirt-like) flavor. Petal liked the smell but hated the taste.

Petal looked down and kicked the ground in thought. I know, she continued, straightening up proudly, you’re one of the new adopted Jor’athrun girls! Petal smiled at her insight.

No, returned the girl softly again, shaking her head. She was a few inches taller than Petal, who had stepped back against an Achaia trunk.

The girl closed in until she was about a foot from Petal and stood staring tenderly into her eyes. She reached up cautiously to touch Petal’s velvety, brown face, moving her long fingers ticklingly over the fuzz. Petal laughed.

I give up, declared Petal with finality, slapping her hands against her sides. Unless you’re one of the Pliliads who hardly ever come out of their nest. But I would’ve seen you before now because I know everyone in the Pliliad family even though they don’t talk much. She stared at the new girl and sniffed.

"Who are you?! Petal bounced in anticipation of the answer. Are you from another village?!"

The girl blinked all of her eyes at once, the way baby lukkas do before they learn how to blink separately. Petal giggled; this looks very funny to any lukka older than a toddler.

You could say I am from another village, yes… Although I don’t live far from here. The girl’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, after which she swallowed hard and stepped even closer to Petal. There was no space between the girls now. Two brown fuzzy noses touching. Petal held her breath. They stared, absolutely face-to-face, and Petal laughed. But she didn’t move away.

After some moments Petal whispered, Why are you standing so close?

"This is how Trees grow when they can’t find a patch of sunlight of their own. Do lukkas not ever grow—I mean stand—this close together?"

Petal laughed heartily. No, not at all. The girl took a small step backwards and continued to stare into Petal’s eyes.

"You are definitely not from around here."

The other girl’s expression was unmoved, but she tilted her head slightly and surveyed Petal’s face.

"Where are you from? Who are you?"

The new girl’s voice grew faint:

"I am an Achaia Tree."

Wind rustled as it does in late, chilly autumn through the Treetops. The girl blinked her eyes synchronously. Petal would have giggled again if she had not been so perplexed.

Then there was a treeish sound several feet behind Petal—a deliberate creak. Her eyes instinctively glanced toward the sound but returned instantly to her new friend.

Treegirl’s eyes widened. My mother says I should Transpose because there is another lukka in our grove now.

Bewildered and intrigued, Petal followed with her eyes as the girl walked toward the squeaking sound.

Rubia had waited as long as possible at the nest for her daughter. She weaved a few stray grasses back into the mesh of twigs. She put into the nest basket (much like your pantries) the leftover breakfast of kosh roots for a later meal. Then she packed her daughter a lunch full of winter bulbs that had developed early this year—yellow curved linis, light brown, bulbous blagorts, and one red jeet because it was so healthful. She looked up at the sky.

Now, being a lukka, Rubia did not need a clock or even a sundial to tell the time. Lukkas on Planet Tynea utilize an ancient telepathic-time-telling system that lies dormant inside most humans today. All you need to know about this system, for now, is that it allows you to know exactly where someone is at any given moment. It also helps you know the exact amount of sunlight that has reached Tynea on the current day, as well as how much sunlight there is left to shine before nightfall. This time-telling system is referred to by lukkas as Tracing, and you will hear much more about its other attributes later.

Rubia Traced for Petal and saw in her mind’s eye:

Petal, in the forest, standing still.

It was time for school. But Rubia, shaking her head, knew that Petal was not coming back for it unless she went to fetch the girl.

The mother lukka left the nest and scuttled into the forest, stomping loudly. Increasingly often, Petal had asked to stay home from the village school to wander and sing in the

Crimson Achaia.

Rubia felt more and more frustrated with this behavior, since she considered school to be very important for a variety of reasons. Rubia also had important work she did for the nest colony—healing work. There were several visits scheduled today already, not to mention the ones that always popped up to make her day very full. First, there was old Mrs. Flaviorn, who had been feeling so achy now that the weather had turned. Then there was the second Jor’athrun daughter to check on, who was having a baby any day now. And she needed several hours to crush and dry medicinal herbs that were near to molding. She felt angrier at chasing after her daughter with each step she took.

Soon Rubia reached the aeriangle. She was just about to insist that Petal accompany her to the village for school, scolding her along the way for her lax attitude. But as she caught her breath Rubia noticed Petal’s gaze fixed intently before and above her. Rubia turned to look toward the strange stretching, creaking sound in the heart of the forest.

Fifty feet to the right of the aeriangle the Treegirl’s lukkan face was still visible, rising higher each moment.

Slowly each eye grew dark and ascended, until it was only recognizable as a small red knot.

The Treegirl’s arms stretched through the air, straightening, strengthening, branching again and again.

Each branch grew many branchlets with blue tips.

Each tip broadened, multiplying into hundreds and thousands of jointed, flexible needles.

Treegirl’s belly and legs swelled slowly, growing thick, reddish skin that separated into vertical lines of hardened fibers. Gradually they resembled a Tree trunk.

Her lukkan toes wiggled their way into the tynea; where each toe penetrated ground it extended itself thinly above and heavily below in support of her woody frame.

Her petite, bonny face disappeared completely into a knotted growing tip at the very top of what had become an Achaia Tree about one hundred feet in height.

The ground continued to shake.

With several deep, low raspings that rumbled the ground Rubia and her daughter stood on, Treegirl spread her cerulean branches to their fullest width.

Then all was silent.

Rubia and Petal stared at the Treegirl until Petal’s mother breathed in deeply. Still scrutinizing the full height of this boughed being, who had—defying all logic—just metamorphosed from a lukka into an Achaia sapling, Petal’s mother whispered slowly:

"This is… much more… important than school."

Petal’s attention left her new friend momentarily to smile at her mother.

Oh! she whined, I didn’t even get to find out her name!

Chapter Two

The Changeling

Petal eyed her new friend, for the first time examining a Tree as carefully as you would a new baby sister. Treegirl’s bark was thick, cut in upside-down V-shapes, with small hairs standing out from the surface. It looked as if someone had gently passed a vegetable grater from your planet over the bark, loosening the tight skin. Her branches hung like so many arms; flat, thin, blue needle-leaves forked many times, spreading like sectioned fingers out to patches of pink sunlight. This Achaia was not much older than a sapling compared to the giants that stood beside her. Flexible boughs pointed ever-downward, spiraling wildly on gusts of impending winter. Like all Achaias, the Tree was pointed at her apex, with broadening canopy toward her lower half.

Petal stepped closer, running a thoughtful hand up the Treegirl’s trunk. She petted the underside of an extended branch. As her fingers reached the terminus, the branch twined around her hand loosely. They stood peacefully, hand in branch.

Petal felt the tynea quiver as her friend slowly swayed and shrunk. The change was set in motion. Instead of extending, Treegirl flowed inward—curling, folding, thickening. Smaller and finer facial features formed in her descending vertex. Petal felt the pliant, spiny leaves in her hand turn harder and stronger until they clutched like human fingers.

Rubia moved closer. How is this possible? she whispered to no one in particular.

"I have been practicing for two whole years!" the Treegirl replied emphatically. "And I just figured out how to Transpose yesterday!"

"But how is it possible?" Rubia repeated.

Let’s go play! shouted an excited Petal, and she ran toward the aeriangle. Treegirl quickly caught up. Rubia stood, mouth agape, staring after them. She shook her head vigorously, trying to recover her former beliefs.

She yelled. "Petal it is time for school… Petal!"

That tone of voice demanded attention, so Petal stopped but did not turn to face her mother. Rubia opened her mouth several times to say something, but each time she opened it a comprehensible thought could not be formed. Finally she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Petal knew her mother only did this when she was trying not to yell.

Petal, said Rubia gently, I need to… work. My work is very important to me and I can’t do it unless you are in school. Rubia frowned at Petal. But when their eyes locked Rubia threw her hands up in surrender.

What am I talking about? She sighed. Petal waited. I really need to go work, she said more doubtfully. "How are… Who are… What… How did that happen?" Rubia asked the Treegirl, resting her chin in her hand.

I learned finally how to sing the Egress Note, marinate in the underground, wiggle my feelers, and Transpose! I’ve been trying for a really long time because I kept seeing Petal and I wanted to play with her. Mama says it happens every so often that some Trees just don’t want to only be Trees but they want to be other things.

Rubia, peering from Tree to Tree, felt an eerie consciousness about each life in the forest.

Who is your mother?

Her name is Yich-Liiiiuuwahhlliiiiuhwwulliaaahh. Treegirl made a horrible grunting sound to accompany the name that was so loud and guttural she hunched her shoulders in surprise. I guess I can’t make the same kind of sounds when I’m a lukka. Thunderous laughter followed.

"Where is your mother?" Rubia asked.

The girl pointed directly behind Rubia, who found herself dwarfed by a massive fire scar of one of the more enormous Achaias in this part of the wood. Her height could have easily been five hundred feet. In girth, she was wider than every nest in the lukka village—some thirty-five nests—set end to end.

An ear-splitting creak resounded from Treegirl’s mother. To Rubia and Petal it sounded like a horrible tyneaquake or a landslide. They cringed, covered their ears, and waited for it to stop. Treegirl shook her head.

Mama says, ‘Good Morning.’ I’ll have to tell her later that younger lukkas aren’t as hard of hearing as the old ones.

She scratched her soft cheek. I guess Mama’s name in Lukkan would be… Quiet-Lightening-Ancient-Deep-Magic-Powerful-Mountain-Enchantment-History-Knower.

That’s long, noted Petal. And I don’t think she’s very quiet.

Petal and the Treegirl exchanged a laugh.

Rubia took her hands warily off her ears. Tell your mother I… Good Morning.

She can hear you.

She knows our language?

Of course. Lukkas are the Tree-guardians. All the big Trees know Lukkan. Mother says it’s just you who have forgotten root language. She turned to Petal. Can we go play now?

Petal looked sullenly at her mother. Insipidly, she ventured, Mommy, can I please play with my new Tree friend?

Rubia examined Treegirl’s mother, furrowing her brow, throwing her hands up, resting her chin in her hand. I have to work, she thought. It is not questionable. But… were all my mother’s stories about speaking to Trees true?

A softer, lower creak issued from the boughs above them, followed by slow pulses and flowing groans.

Mother says she will be happy to watch Petal for you today.

Rubia stood stunned, gazing from giant Achaia to its sapling-girl. She was thinking of all the reasons why Petal shouldn’t be alone in the forest. But every time she thought she had come up with a good one it was combated by the fact that Petal would be under supervision. Just not by a lukka. Eventually she had to answer, but somehow she thought it might be very insulting to distrust the care of a Tree.

She turned to Treegirl’s mother to converse with her, but realized they still had no name in Lukkan by which to address her. Nor did they know the daughter’s name.

Can’t you just call her Quiet-Lightening-Ancient-Deep-Magic-Powerful-Mountain-Enchantment-History-Knower? As Treegirl said it she realized how outlandish it sounded in Lukkan, and both girls shook their heads with a firm No!

Petal raised a finger. Say her name in Tree grunts again.

Yich-Liiiiuuwahhlliiiiuhwwulliaaahh.

Petal nodded decidedly, "I am going to call her Lilia. Does she like that name?"

Oh, I think she’ll like it very much.

And what should we call you, little one? asked Rubia.

Treegirl placed her hands on the middle of her chest. "I am the only Achaia who was given a Lukkan name at birth.

I am Kaia.

Her hands extended outward from her breast in the lukkan gesture, Masana-Mayeh.

I am Rubia. The woman repeated the gesture, echoing Masana Mayeh (which would translate into English as my heart opens to you). But I suppose you know that already. And I am very pleased to meet you, Kaia. She smiled.

Petal beamed at her new friend, also repeating the lukkan gesture of greeting. Masana-Mayeh, Kaia.

Rubia turned around to face the fire-scar hollow. Hello Lilia. She also, rather uneasily, repeated the lukka greeting gesture. Rubia didn’t know where to rest her gaze or direct her voice. The Tree had no eyes, no face. "I am Rubia, daughter of Saluna and Marmnun, and she added, …my mother—‘Jihalia the Peacekeeper,’ she said the Trees referred to her as…"

After she said it she immediately felt embarrassed and averted her eyes; she had always assumed Jihalia the Peacekeeper was a made-up name for fanciful storytelling to lukka children. She scanned deliberately up the bulky trunk.

I… well, I don’t know exactly how to ask this… But, if I let Petal play in the forest today, how exactly is it that you will be able to watch her, exactly…? Her cheeks flushed, though it could not be seen under her fur.

There was a rustling in the branches far above. A strange rustling—not at all the same kind of rustling you hear when the wind causes it. The swishing briefly grew loud and conspicuous when a large mother-Tree limb bent, swiftly scooping up Petal. Lilia held Rubia’s very surprised daughter only a few feet off the ground in a gentle, secure embrace. There was another rustling in the Trees, accompanied by a short groan from Lilia.

Kaia ran toward and then past the aeriangle, shouting back, Mother says I am to run away so you can see what the Trees can do!

Treegirl ran on all fours, toddler-style, almost out of sight. She stopped and turned to look back. Without delay a large bough from the nearest giant clutched Kaia. It threw her airborne to another Tree, whose branch caught Kaia so gently it looked like she had landed in velvet moss. This Tree in turn flung the girl (whose exuberant facial expression indicated the ride was not a bit as horrifying as it looked) higher up, where another Achaia caught and pitched her to Lilia. The mother-Tree clasped the two girls light as a feather, strong as wood. She placed them tenderly on the ground in front of Rubia.

Petal’s mother stood with her hands covering her open mouth. While terrified by the tossing of children, Rubia also had a deep feeling of trust for these Trees. This may have been the first time she was speaking to them, but she had lived in or near these woods her entire life, collecting nuts from many of them. Any reservation Rubia may have had in leaving her daughter ‘unsupervised’ in the forest was now gone. An unsettled feeling took its place. Yet, this feeling was not entirely new to Rubia, who, every so often in parenting Petal, was forced to relinquish a bit more control than she previously had over her daughter’s life. She looked, daunted and speechless, at the soft ground mottled with roots.

Petal knew by the look on her mother’s face that she had won the playdate. Jumping again, she ventured, When do I have to be home Mommy? She hoped and hoped that it would work.

Rubia tried to assure herself that Petal would be safe, still unable to vocalize permission. Lilia’s branch moved slowly down to wrap and carry her…

In the Tree’s grasp, the mother lukka felt the cold wind bite her skin under her furred cheeks as she was lifted, like an elevator ride, past seven or eight of Lilia’s thickest basal boughs. When she came to an imperceptible stop one hundred feet off the ground, she caught her breath; the green riverbed of the River Squall stood in stark contrast to the bare white branches of the To’ukra. The river’s winter flow trenched over immense boulders. Rubia often saw the Squall from this vantage point during Autumn Climb, when lukkas gathered Achaiakorns. But the river was fuller now with the rains that had pelted the Eyry Mountains for the past few weeks. At one click away, beyond the Crimson Achaia, beyond the riparian pebbles and sand beneath the To’ukra Trees, the river crashed and spit its cold vapors up into the sky. Rubia involuntarily relaxed in the embrace of something far stronger than herself. Lilia groaned delicately.

Kaia shouted up, Mother says you are right to remember your mother’s relationship with the Ancient Grove. And she wants you to know that Petal is safer here than at school. My mama loves her and knows her just as well as I do because Petal is always singing to us.

Petal danced ecstatically. She let out a high-pitched squeak.

Rubia felt tingly, barely conscious memories stir in her of myths about forest magic. But the comparison to school safety, while possibly true, disturbed her. More groans came from the old Tree.

Kaia listened politely. Okay. How do I say this in Lukkan? My mother is saying something like ‘I am your relative.’ Petal is hers too. She is glad you are not afraid anymore.

Afraid? Suddenly Rubia remembered herself as a child, fearful of the darkness of the winter grove, fearful of the creaking woods at night.

Lilia’s woody grasp loosened and Rubia found herself standing on solid ground. Her feet tingled with the aliveness of the soil beneath her, but her head shook unconsciously in confusion. She wished she could refuse.

Be home by suppertime. Rubia, smiling in spite of herself, gave Petal a kiss on the cheek.

Thank you Mommy! Petal hugged her mother so dramatically it threw Rubia off balance, and she laughed as she stumbled sideways. Petal turned to her new playmate.

Say your mommy’s name again in Tree! she commanded, bouncing.

Yich-Liiiiuuwahhlliiiiuhwwulliaaahh!!! This time a squeal accompanied the grunt, which sent Petal into a fit of laughter. Kaia, encouraged by Petal’s amusement, repeated her mother’s name in ever-increasing cascades of screeches, howls, and grunts. Petal eventually fell to the ground writhing with delight.

A Tree as a babysitter? Rubia continued to shake her head as she walked, frowning, back to the nesting grounds. No one was going to believe this. Or would the Wisdom Council?

Chapter Three

A Wish Spoken

Five years in the future of our story…

Seyala the Krystalgnome watched the last of the Wixards chat and exit the kitchen, one of them throwing a wet rag back on a counter to dry. The sound of laughter died away as they made their way toward Artisan Hall. Seyala counted spoons to pretend she was working if any of the Keepers appeared suddenly searching for a last-minute snack.

It was not in her nature to be this secretive. At least, not until she had been inducted last year into the Wixards’ Mystery School—a society of women secret even to Krystalgnomes who were not members. The school had passed down ancient forms of Wixardry and language for thousands of years, and its leader had asked Seyala to investigate a rudimentary, repeating sound that had been heard by members of the Mystery School as they met in the outmost northeast room of the Second Clan’s territory.

For a full year Seyala had studied with the leader, Nashi, developing a cipher to understand the message being tapped from far away. Although there were many parts of the message they could not understand (including some that were in Tree language, known as Growm), the secret society had put together enough sounds and letters in Gnomish to believe someone, somewhere needed their assistance.

Among the words the Wixards’ Mystery School had been able to decode were:

Anyone

Crimson Achaia

Seyala

Help

But the words and phrases in-between were still unintelligible to Seyala and the other Wixards, despite months of listening.

So, with Nashi’s help, Seyala had come up with a plan to figure out more of the message. Nashi had the ingenious idea to enlist the help of the fungi, as their runners extended far beyond the reach of Tree roots (at least laterally, just beneath the surface of the tynea). And everyone knows fungi can keep secrets. The marble-eye patch confirmed that they could digest a piece of paper and reconstitute it anywhere the Krystalgnomes liked. But, they added, it might take some time to grow into places they weren’t yet present.

The Mystery School then asked the bats living in the Meningian Dank to echolocate the tapping sound. As far as the bats could tell, the signal initiated smack-dab in the middle of the Triad Volcano Lavabeds, where there were no known forests or Krystalgnome clans. As far as Seyala’s people knew, nothing lived or grew in the lava beds because Triad was an active volcano, spewing fresh lava every year or two.

She sat at the table in the corner and extracted the letter she had written on To’ukra parchment. One more read-through and she might be satisfied with it enough to let it go.

To whoever is sendin’ the followin’ message:

‘…Anyone…Crimson Achaia…Seyala…Help…’

We’ve heard part of yer message but cannot make out any other words than those listed above. Please send a written message back through the marble-eye runners or tap a message, in Gnomish exclusively, much louder than what ya’ve been tappin. Include, please, how it is thatcha know my name, and who ya are. We would send help now ‘cept that we b’lieve you’s very far from any gnome clans er tunnels. Please advise how someone might findja.

Seyala the Wixard, Second Clan ‘neath Achaia

It was not a flowery letter, but then, she was not a flowery woman.

The Krystalgnome made her way up to the surface, where the marble-eye mushrooms had agreed to help. Without a sound, she extracted the note and placed it on the ground. Making sure no one was watching, she bent and covered the note with tynea. As she stepped back she could hear mushroom tendrils crumpling the paper.

How long until it is reconstructed at the sound’s source?

Seyala felt the vague vibrations of mushroom language under her feet.

At least three months.

She looked around anxiously again before returning to the kitchen, feeling quite guilty at not consulting the Queen of the Achaias about the tapped message. But, she had been forbidden by oaths of the Mystery School from sharing information with anyone outside it unless the whole school agreed. And, as yet, they were of mixed opinion on the subject of the strange tapping.

Well, perhaps the Rootplexus has picked it up too, she consoled herself.

Back to the recent past…

On an icy, sunny morning, Petal chanted while she and Kaia dug for blagorts under the dappled winter shade of bare To’ukra branches.

"Fixed is my grip in the ground

Twist, pinch, all way ‘round

Tendril below is the blood of the river

Leave it alive where it starts to quiver

Blagort black as the night

Life-bringing winter light"

Petal produced a fresh blagort from the ground for Kaia’s viewing.

You have to twist and pinch the blagort before you pull it, reiterated Petal. Or else you get the whole root and that would kill the plant. If we just take the bulb and not the far-downest root it can grow a new bulb.

"Achaias call blagorts ‘Resrection Root,’" replied Kaia.

What does rezrecshun mean?

I think it means like tricking everyone that you’re dead and then popping up and scaring everyone ‘cuz you’re really still alive. Kaia cautiously bit into a blagort she had loosened from the ground. There was a crisp, wet munching noise.

Petal gnawed on her blagort with the molars on the side of her mouth. Her lips frowned instinctively at the bitter taste. It’s a lot more fun eating these when you’re around, she concluded.

"It’s fun digging your own food as an animal. I dig for my own food all the time with my roots, but I never get anything this big. It’s like finding a treasure!"

Let’s dig for more treasure! schemed Petal. We’ll pretend we’re digging for… winter stars!

"No! Let’s call them night stars and pretend they light up the whole sky—everything around them—and you have to use them wherever you go for finding everything because your whole planet is night all the time."

Yeah, coaxed Petal, and the stars only glow for a little while so we have to keep finding new night stars to help us see the path home!

The girls found many new patches of blagorts, each time twisting and pinching just as the rhyme taught, to leave the blagort tendril alive. Rubia was presented with two armfuls of blagorts—a weekly supply for the whole village. She thanked them for finding so much food, and then asked them to please suspend their night-star collecting until all of these were eaten.

Petal’s duties on winter mornings were to:

Fluff-up her moss bed

Help her mother tousle the nest after it had been worn flat by nightly sleepers

Brush the skin oils into her fur while standing outside the nest (her mother was very particular about not having stray fur all over their lair).

Eat her three-root breakfast of blagorts, linis, and koshes

Help her mother put leftovers away

Breakfast is the only meal lukkas eat in single-family nests, due to the fact that cold mornings are best spent snuggle-eating under flahi moss. Petal usually enjoyed this part of her routine. But since she had met Kaia, Petal was spending less and less time in the nesting grounds. Her chores seemed extra-laborious now, for all she wanted to do was play with the Tree. She cruised through her tasks, doing a careless job on morning hygiene, and stood ready to be released for play.

Rubia sighed. Petal, you have unpreened patches on your face and you forgot to eat.

Unpreened patches are fine. Why do I have to be perfectly preened when I’m just going to get more ruffled during the day? Nobody sees me who cares about that stuff in the forest.

You are going to school today before you play with Kaia.

Whining filled Petal’s heart. Mamaaaa! She stomped.

Petal, if you would like to play in the forest today you must first go to school.

Rubia sang the Winter Song of the Morning as the young lukka reluctantly repeated her chores. Rubia’s voice was joined by other parents rousing their little ones in nests throughout the Trees.

Three suns ascend

Illuminating the heavens

Children rise

Illuminating the world

The Pollinate of winter

Raindrops of lifeblood

Nestled in our Achaias

Sapbeads of Treeblood

Waning Sunlight

Shine through me

In all that I do:

This is where each family speaks their own chores. Rubia continued, Oiling fur.

Petal added, Fluffing moss. She always did her chores more cheerily when the song was sung.

After school, Petal ran to Kaia’s spot beneath Lilia and waited. She knew it wouldn’t take long for Kaia to

Transpose.

First there was the rasping sound exchanged between the little Tree and big Tree, then there was a rumbling underground, then Kaia transformed. While the change happened Petal wiped the mud from her heel suction cups.

My mother says we shouldn’t play that long today because lukkas need a lot of rest in the winter and we’ve been playing a lot into the evening.

Petal pouted out her lip. She approached Lilia and spread her arms about the bark, scratching unconsciously at a piece of charcoaled rind until it popped off. Looking up, the lukkaling protested, Please oh please let us play for a really long time. Until dark.

Kaia sighed and slapped a hand to her forehead. Lilia reached down to pet Petal’s head with a branch tip. A low groan told Petal she must obey. The young lukka had been listening now for several weeks and could understand the few most basic of Lilia’s modulations. Kaia noticed Petal wasn’t asking for a translation.

Did you understand my mother?

Yes, griped Petal, she said no and something like ‘begging won’t change the answer.’

That’s pretty good, complimented Kaia. You can understand root language now!

Petal worked with a stick in the dirt. I don’t understand it all, but I do understand some things, like when she says yes and no. I like it when she pats me. Or picks me up.

Something brightened Petal’s mood, and then she slumped again. Why does your mother let you be a lukka all the time and my mommy won’t let me even play with a Tree hardly ever? It’s not fair.

Kaia felt sorry for her friend, although they had been together virtually every day since they met. In Kaia’s mind Rubia was extremely permissive and generous with Petal’s time, since they played always in the forest and not in the village.

Maybe she misses you… My mother is always here watching wherever we’re playing.

A large bough reached down to cradle them, transferring them by successive rungs of branches to Lilia’s apex. Petal found herself as high as she climbed on early spring days before migration to get to young edible shoots—higher than most of the Trees in the forest. The view from there expanded staggeringly far; Petal thought she might have spied the Q Ocean below a drift of fog hundreds of clicks away to the north. Scores of Trees spanning the horizon were devoid of foliage. Evergreens dotted up from the deciduous layer, and snow decorated the Eyry Mountains to the northeast.

Kaia felt electrified. "I love being up here! I can’t wait until I grow so high I can see everything like this!"

"But how can you see anything when you’re a Tree? Do you really see from your growing tip?"

No, acknowledged Kaia thoughtfully, "I guess it’s not really like seeing. It’s kind-of like your air-feelers know where there’s space and where there’s not. They can tell how close the Trees are, or even animals, and you always know who is around you and what they’re thinking. I wish you could be a Tree for a while and then you would know what it’s like."

Hey, that’s kinda like Tracing! Lukkas can always tell where people are if we Trace for them!

Yeah, I guess it’s kinda like that. She rested her fuzzy chin in her hands.

Petal’s dozen eyes looked distantly to the north, west, and east at the same time. Her breathing became inaudible.

I wish I could be a Tree too so I could learn root language even better. Then we could always play no matter where we were and if anyone were looking for us they’d never find us cuz we could turn into Trees and hide.

Yeah, built Kaia, "we could become Trees right next to your nest and your mom would be calling, ‘Petal! Petal!’ and we would be right in front of her and she wouldn’t even know!"

Petal giggled and added, "Wherever we went we could turn into that kind of Tree. Like if lukkas were collecting To’ukra fluff we could turn into To’ukra Trees. We could even make fluff and when one of my friends picked it we’d go ‘Ow!’ and totally surprise them."