Book 13: Chapter 66: Hope and Power

Path of Dragons

The first year was the most difficult, for the refugees as well as for Elijah. His mood oscillated between gratitude for the end to his solitary existence and the anxiety that came from being close to so many people. To combat it, he focused on the outer ring that stretched across most of the continent.

The sheer size of it was daunting, and even though he’d completed more than half of the work before the refugees’ arrival, he still had a long way to go. Still, he found himself taking advantage of the relative freedom provided by his ability to travel rapidly, and often visited the site of the intended settlement.

In less than a month, they’d laid the foundations, and according to Zek, they would be both more extensive and better built than Dravkein’s. Many of the features – like the rings or the meat-cleansing slaughter yard – were unnecessary, but the builders were determined to match the city with the setting. The result was a collection of minimally invasive stone buildings that built up, rather than out.

Even with the anxiety that came with being around people, Elijah stepped in to ensure that each structure was incorporated into the overall setting. He grew plants and vines, surrounding the settlement with enough greenery that it looked like a park. Even the roofs were dedicated to gardens, many of which were meant to supplement the residents’ diets with fresh produce.

Elijah also worked with Benedict to create runic structures that would enhance the surrounding vitality without disrupting the overall flow. Of course, while Druhmor and its surroundings had once depended on the runic circles surrounding and built into the growth pattern of the vegetation, much of that burden now rested on Treebie’s root system. As such, it didn’t really matter what they did on the surface. It would have been extremely difficult for them to fully disrupt the tree’s work.

Still, they were better off safe than sorry, and Elijah hadn’t worked as long as he had to leave things up to chance.

That meant that he spent a lot more time in and around the budding city than he’d originally planned. As a result, his efforts with the outer ring languished, incomplete and somewhat ignored.

It was one thing to maintain his grueling schedule when he didn’t have any distractions. But with people around? And with other work to do? Elijah found it extremely difficult to focus on the project.

Not that that was surprising. For years, he’d used it to distract him from his own loneliness. The terraforming project was all he had, especially once Treebie had taken his growth into his own hands. Or branches. But now that his solitude had concluded, his attitude had changed.

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t still work on it. He did, just at a much slower pace that would see the project completed in more than thrice the time.

By the end of the first year, the new settlement – named M’yakein – was complete. At last census, the population had grown to more than two hundred thousand, largely due to a baby boom right after the refugees had realized that they were safe. The increased vitality of the region probably helped with that, too.

In any case, the city only covered about twenty square miles – approximately the size of Manhattan before Earth’s transformation. It could easily accommodate a much larger population, especially with the verticality of the city, and each building was covered in greenery. Vines draped across every wall, and each individual domicile featured a balcony garden.

The avenues between the buildings were more like paths through a park. Perfect for pedestrians, but too narrow to allow for any vehicles other than handcarts. In short, it felt like a mixture of a small village and a large city, with the ideals of both displayed side by side.

Elijah spent very little time there.

Instead, when he wasn’t tending to his project, he remained by Treebie’s side. Separate, but close enough that he almost felt like part of the community. It took him a while to recognize the pattern of his existence as wholly similar to the arrangement he’d shared with Ironshore.

That thought brought to mind Earth’s fate. Or rather, his ignorance as to what had happened to his home planet.

“This one is supposed to be Sadie, isn’t it?” asked Benedict. The Warlock was his most frequent visitor, largely because most of everyone else remained too afraid to venture too close. Apparently, the leaders had been quite forceful in their insistence that no one visited Druhmor without permission, which had fostered a degree of fear amongst the populace.

That was familiar, too.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“It’s not a very good sculpture, Elijah.”

“Ouch.”

“And this one is obviously Escobar, right?” he asked, kneeling next to one of Elijah’s newest clay statues. He’d long since completed his sculpture of Oscar, but it hadn’t seemed incomplete without the pack.

“Do you know any other chihuahuas?”

“It looks more like a dachshund.”

“And you look like someone who wants to lose Treebie privileges,” Elijah muttered.

Benedict held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I won’t point out how terrible your statues are. It’s the thought that counts.”

Elijah held up his own hand, his thumb and forefinger only an inch apart. “You’re this close, man. This close.”

“Okay, then. Change of subject,” Benedict announced. “Well, two things, really. The first is a question – how long do you think it’ll be before the Branch is completely functional?”

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“Decades at least. Centuries, probably. And that’s if it even happens,” Elijah admitted. He could feel that thin, barely-there thread stretching off into the distance, though he knew it connected to nothing. What’s more, its existence was less than an echo of reality. As if it truly dwelled in an entirely different dimension. What Elijah sensed was like a shadow, barely perceptible and not completely real. “The fact is that I just don’t know. I’m just playing this by ear.”

The reality of it was that Elijah’s plan had never been more than a long shot, and now, he was in completely new and entirely unfamiliar territory.

“Fair enough,” Benedict said. “But that just brings me to the next one. The kids.”

“What about them?” Elijah asked.

“The council thinks it would be beneficial for them to visit the tree,” he answered. “And I agree. There is value in creating that connection, to them learning about it.”

“They can learn from afar.”

“Elijah, think about this for a second. What is your end goal here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you don’t intend to stay here, right?” he asked. “One day – maybe even soon – you’re going to try to leave. If you could do it right now, you would.”

“I need to get back to Earth, if only to discover its fate.”

“That’s my point,” Benedict persisted. “I’m not arguing with you, either. I think it’s a noble goal. But what happens when you leave? Don’t you need someone to take care of the tree?”

“He has a name. Treebie.”

“That is a ridiculous name.”

Elijah shrugged. “Doesn’t change that that’s what he’s called,” he insisted.

“Trees don’t have gender.”

“This one does.”

“Elijah…”

He sighed. “Fine. I get what you’re saying, okay? I’m not going to be here indefinitely, and letting the kids visit gives us a chance to find the ones with the right attunement to become caretakers, right? It’s the same as with my grove.”

“And you’ll allow it?”

“I said it was fine,” Elijah answered. “But I don’t want any adults here unless I’m around. I don’t trust them.”

“They’re good people, Elijah.”

“They’re people, and I’m sure they run the gamut of good and bad. Just because they’ve had a rough go of it doesn’t mean they’re automatically virtuous,” Elijah stated. “I don’t think any of them have the power to hurt Treebie, but I’d rather be safe than wrong.”

In the end, Benedict agreed with Elijah’s restrictions. Not because he approved, but because he didn’t have much of a choice. So it happened that, a few weeks later, the first group of children arrived.

The trek across Druhmor was a matter of minutes for Elijah, but for mortal children, it was a grueling, fifty-mile journey. Or it could have been if they hadn’t so clearly been enamored with their surroundings. Even the adults, led by Zek, were awestruck. Pointedly, Benedict remained behind.

Elijah greeted them with a set of rules meant to protect Treebie’s delicate environment.

Seeing those eager faces broke something within Elijah, and soon enough, he found himself slipping into the same attitude he’d adopted with the young members of his grove. Before he knew it, he was telling them a story about how Treebie had come to be.

“He’s younger than some of you,” Elijah went on.

“But he’s so big!” one of the little girls exclaimed, her arms stretched across Treebie’s trunk like she was hugging him. The other children had reacted similarly, without even a hint of animosity or guile. Such was the nature of the young. They wouldn’t learn those things for years yet.

But at least some of them would succumb to that pull. Innocence could only last for so long, but for now, it infused the children so completely that Elijah couldn’t help but smile.

“You want to hear something really crazy?” Elijah asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper. They all did. “His roots go down to the center of the planet. Thousands of miles. And he’s working toward cleansing the whole world of corruption.”

That brought forth a chorus of admiration from the children. Even the adults present – presumably their parents – were suitably impressed.

“Can he cleanse people, too?” asked a little boy, his face marked by rubbery black skin that extended from one temple all the way to his jaw. His hair had been arranged to conceal it, though it was only marginally successful in that endeavor.

“Maybe,” Elijah allowed. “Given enough time.”

Though Elijah wasn’t so certain as his tone implied. From what he’d been able to tell, the mutations brought forth by the corrupted atmosphere were a part of the affected people. Removing them was more like curing cancer than cleansing the atmosphere.

But then again, Elijah knew from experience curing cancer was possible.

Without thinking, he stepped toward the boy and laid his hand on the child’s face. The birthmark was rough, and it felt more like a combination of sharkskin and old tires than actual human flesh. Someone said something, but Elijah didn’t listen. Instead, he extended his Mantle of Authority through his hand.

The concentrated ethera lashed out, clashing with the corrupted flesh. The child gasped, but he did not scream in pain. Elijah pushed harder. Someone grasped his arm, but he ignored them.

After all, he was a demi-god possessing a silver-tier body. They couldn’t move him even if they all worked together.

The spores in his mind whirled as the leaves rustled, flashing with power as he bent the entirety of his concentration onto the boy’s corrupted flesh. He could feel it, and not just with his fingers. Like an island amidst healthy skin stood a mass of blackness, its tendrils arcing out to claim more territory. It went deep, too. Down to the bone.

The boy’s own vitality fought against it, but it was a losing battle. One day, it would claim him. Elijah knew that as surely as he knew anything else in all the world.

It was an unspoken truth that the mutations were just the first signs of corruption. Like an infection, it would spread, slowly consuming everything until, at last, they succumbed. The only solution was to advance. Mortals would fall prey after only fifty years. Ascendents took significantly longer to fall, and demi-gods were thought to be immune to all but cosmetic effects.

Until recently, Elijah couldn’t sense just how insidious the spread could be.

But now, he saw it. He felt it. And he was driven to eradicate it. His bestial instincts merged with the rationality of the human and the indomitability of the dragon within. In that way, the three aspects of his being were in total agreement.

They flexed, and a terrible wind swept across his mindscape. It swirled as every facet of his mind worked toward the singular goal of directing his Mantle of Authority.

It cut through the corruption like a surgeon’s scalpel.

As he worked, everything else faded away. He would brook no distractions. He would acknowledge nothing about his environment. Instead, he fought a tiny war against the corruption.

And he won.

It only lasted for a few hours, but when the battle was done, he couldn’t help but sag in relief. Only then did he see the consequences of his actions.

A man with tentacles sprouting from his shoulders stood nearby. Tears wet his cheeks as he clutched his arms across his chest. Others comforted him.

The children were gone.

All except one.

The boy was unconscious, though his breathing was deep and regular. Elijah knew instantly that he was entirely healthy.

And miraculously, the rubbery mark of corruption that had once stood so prominently on his face was now gone. In its place was healthy skin, a little redder than the rest, but still entirely free of corruption.

Elijah stood and let out a deep breath.

He just nodded at the man he presumed to be the boy’s father, then walked away. The man rushed forward to kneel beside his child. The boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he stirred, only to be swallowed in a hug.

That was all Elijah permitted himself to see before he disappeared around the curve of Treebie’s trunk.