To Save a World Ch. 05

"Oh please," She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "We both know that you're going to agree by the end of it, so why don't we just leave the palace intrigue and cut straight to the negotiations? Not everyone gets off on convoluted plots, you know."

This time, it was L'Asandre who huffed. "Funny - given the very recent fact that you've thrived over everyone's convolution. You of all people should know that the theatrics is all part of the game. I thought you were the one who wanted to have fun with this?"

Sarasswena spread her hands. "Indulge me, then."

"Nevertheless, I am curious about what you think of me. What makes you think that I would work with you? The Seven Talents already have an understanding to work together. My House's financial affairs are in a comfortable place. A place where I, frankly, do not need more money."

"Everyone can always make do with more money." The woman laughed. "We both know that that understanding is a farce. The stuck up High Rule bloodline ignores the rest of us on the best days, and walks all over us on the worst. You think they really see us as equals? They're just keeping us around to take care of the dirty work."

"Nevertheless, I still do not see the merit in potentially angering the First or the second. Not that you haven't already done exactly that with Domil."

"Pft." The Talent scoffed. "Entitled fool. He's the weakest link out of all of the House of Might, say what you may about his powers. He's a mad dog that would turn on everyone the first chance he gets. The only thing keeping him under control is the First's cock up his ass."

L'Asandre winced inside, "All the more reason not to draw their ire." He murmured.

"But that's exactly the reason why they'll leave us alone. The House of the First and the House of Might are too arrogant. They are too busy eyeballing each other, believing the other to be the only threat, believing us to be too divided to mount a significant opposition."

Despite himself, the young Tannian squirmed in his seat. He did not like the madness that this woman was implying. "We're still talking about gathering information, right?"

"Oh, yes. Might have gotten a bit caught up to the moment. Doesn't mean it's not true, though - the first and second houses are not going to see us as a threat. So we've cooperated, so what? Any half of them could wreck the both of us, if they didn't mind the absolute mayhem that would follow."

L'Asandre nodded slowly. "All right, you've convinced me that it wouldn't be risky. But I still do not see the merit. I suppose this is not just a simple bid for gold?"

"It is a bid for gold, but it's not just one. The real merit, dear Leaguewalker, is that I know something that you all still don't."

'There it is', L'Asandre thought to himself. 'Let's see your hand, then, Sarasswena of the Illusions.'

"Let's hear it then."

Sarasswena grinned, her perfectly white teeth had a predatory glean to them. She held up a finger and curled it to herself. L'Asandre, with not a little amount of trepidation, leaned all the way across the table until her breath tickled his ear.

"Tar sacrifice his life to cast a Greater Summoning in order to bring something into this world, in preparation for the Calamity."

Shivers ran down the Tannian's spine, not just from the woman's hot breath on her ear but also from the implications of the words that they whispered. "And you know this how?" He whispered just as quietly.

"He told me. Just before he went off to die. He came to find me, L'Asandre. I don't know why but he did, but he told me, and gave me something."

"Something?"

Sarasswena drew back to look at him in the eye. From gods know where, she set a thick leather-bound book on his expensive table with an ominous thud. It was ancient, with cracks in its cover, and shiny with use. But the gleam of its golden trims still shone in the light. "It's Tar's book." L'Asandre stated in wonder, "The one that he carries around but never opens. I wondered where it went."

"It's one of his most prized possession. From the Age of Harmony, supposedly from the Farseer before him, handed down through generations of elected House heads."

"What does it say? Is it a book of prophesy?"

Despite the oppressive tenseness of the situation, the young woman managed to smirk at him, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "On the contrary, it's a book of history. A detailed account of every notable thing that has happened since the Greatest Age up to now. It was given to him by his mentor, and by his mentor's mentor before him."

"By the gods."

"Open it."

He did. The pages were blank.

L'Asandre looked up at her, a storm cloud of a frown forming on his face, only to be met by yet another grin. Sarasswena produced a needle from out of nowhere, and pricked her index finger. She hurriedly wiped the dark bead of blood into the pages of the book.

The book hummed with magic, just for a single moment, and then in it's perfectly blank pages words seemed to write itself. 'Sarasswena of the Illusions, Trusted of Tar the Farseer to be bearer of the knowledge of him and all the others that came before him.'

"A Graemoria from the Age of Harmony." L'Asandre breathed, pure amazement written plainly on his face. Such a valuable artifact, and right under his nose all this time! Sarasswena thought it made him look more like his age - a young, fascinated boy. "Amazing. What does it say?"

And then Sarasswena closed the book on his face. "The Graemoria resets every time it closes, and cannot be opened again by anyone else except me. The Old Gods know why, but the old man entrusted it to me. It responds not only to my blood but also to the magic in it, so you would not be able to force it from me in any way. If you want to know the full extent of the knowledge that Tar the Farseer left me, you will need to agree to cooperate."

L'Asandre exhaled. So she has shown her hand - and what a play it was. She has baited him with just enough information so that it would be useless without the rest. It would not be valuable to him nor anyone else without the information in that book, and he would only have his word against hers should he choose to open it up to the other seven. On the other hand, what he had to gain from the information passed unto her by Tar could prove to be invaluable. He weighed it deeply in his head.

"You intend to know whatever it is that Trasnu summoned from the other world. You intend to... keep it, take it for yourself."

"For ourselves."

"That's what you need me for - not just for my network. You need mobility, you need the House of mobility."

"Good boy, finally catching up".

"But why you? Why did the Farseer entrust you with that - and not one of his Favored? Or why not me, or anyone else?"

"There is a high likelihood that all of his House already knows. Or at the very least, his Favored. As for why he gave it to me" Sarasswena simply shrugged. "He liked me the most out of all of us. That is a fact."

L'Asandre sat back in his chair, his pretty sky-blue eyes almost unblinking on Sarasswena's dark ones. "Fine, then. You have your way. I will agree to our partnership if you let me see the contents of the Farseer's Graemoria, with a fifty-fifty split in the profits of whatever business endeavor that we will jointly undergo."

"And lose the only hold I have against you while you take a peek at my book? I think not. I will have my House draw up a suitable list of terms - the division will be sixty-forty to my favor - then we will seal it with an enchantment. And then you can have your look. I look forward to our mutual prosperity."

L'Assandre could do nothing as the chocolate-skinned woman got up and showed herself out of the door, gone as abruptly as she arrived. On a hunch, he got up and looked out of the door. Well, he figured as much; she wasn't anywhere in the corridor. But when he looked down, he saw the pin that she used to prick her finger lying on the floor.

* * *

Aaron awoke with a buzz. A literal buzz. It was a curious sound; a deep thrum, like the sound wanted to make your chest vibrate with itself but couldn't quite make it, but with a slight quality that Aaron could only describe like a whine. More strangely still, was the fact that his face seemed to be buffeted by a steady gust of wind.

The strangest thing of all, though, was the big fucking bee that was making both the sound and the wind, hovering about five inches above Aaron's face and twitching around like it had a bad case of drug withdrawal. The young man did not have much knowledge about bees and such things, so he actually had no idea of whether it was a bee, or a wasp, or a hornet. He remembered dimly something about the difference being in the stingers, but being just in the very first moments of lucidity, the idea slipped away like sand through a sieve.

All he knew was that the insect was yellow, the size of his fucking head, and had an inch-long stinger pointed directly at his face.

His first thought was, of course, not a very intelligent 'Oh, it's a bee.' His second reaction was something along the lines of, 'Holy shit that's a BIG fucking bee!' and then his body immediately tensed, his breath involuntarily held back in muted shock. His hand reached out for the solid reassurance of Trasnu's spear that was always kept nearby whenever he slept, yet the weapon in his hand did little for his mounting nervousness. What would he do with it? The gigantic insect was hovering inches away from his face.

So he opted for what any normal person would do; laid as still as death and prayed Lydia wouldn't move as she slept soundly right beside him. But of course she did - she made a satisfied, unconscious 'hmm' of deep sleepiness and stirred. It would have been a sound to melt his heart on other situations, but as it stands it only stiffened him up even more, fully expecting that barbed little spear to be embedded deep in his eye at any moment.

The bee slash wasp slash hornet slash gigantic insect with a murder weapon above him hovered steadfastly, its wings a blur on its back, its streamlined yellow body seeming to shine in the early morning half-light of the forest. The wind from its wings was so strong that Aaron could feel the leaves - and other assorted organic matter that they used as a bed - rustle around his head. The insect looked into his soul with multifaceted eyes. His heart rate steadily climbed up.

And then a zip, a sudden loss of wind buffeted at his face, and the fucking thing was out the door of his hut faster than he could blink. The change was so sudden that the terrified young man didn't move for several more minutes. Only when Trasnu and Serche looked into their hut from the doorframe did he heave a huge, shaking sigh of relief.

"What the fuck was that." It was an expression of fear and surprise as much as it was a question.

"Why, I also managed to survive my brush with death this morning and am quite well, thank you for asking, kind master." Trasnu got an elbow from Serche for his trouble.

"I'm serious, Trasnu. What on the ever glorious fuck was that and if those things exist, how on earth are we still alive right now?" Aaron sat up, careful not to disturb the sleeping girl as he untangled himself from her.

Trasnu was silent for a moment. "It happens from time to time - we have already had the misfortune of meeting one in our friend the big wolf. Those were of the same... Phenomena. I was hoping that we wouldn't have to run across one again, but in a forest as old and seeped in ancient spirit as this, it was like hoping for the season not to turn."

"So," Aaron's mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed. "So those bees are going to attack us again, just like that time with the wolves? Why haven't they, already?"

"Wasps. And no, I don't think so. We're lucky on that account. They are not as intelligent as the wolves, and thus hold no grudges against us for the Forest's sake. I think that the reason we are still alive right now is because they do not consider us a threat. Be nice if we kept it that way, huh?

On the other hand, if we branded ourselves as enemies... Well, suffice it to say that we will die fast. Really fast."

Aaron cursed under his breath. "Anything we can do about it?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"I thought so." There was a moment of heavy silence, broken only when Lydia stirred, making small noises of waking. She sat up urgently when she noticed the whole group congregated around her, still rapidly blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"Wha- What's happened? Is it bad? Wh-"

Without even thinking, Aaron drew her into a tight hug, the small woman emitting a surprised squeak as she was suddenly enveloped by his arms. "Nothing we can't handle with our amazing team work, baby." Lydia hugged him back hesitantly, aware of the smiling faces of their companions staring at their sudden display of affection.

"But then, what's the hug for?"

"I dunno. You tell me."

That puzzled her so much that she couldn't make a reply.

The day did go on after that, after a lot of good natured heckling and teasing coming from their beastmen friends, mostly Trasnu. It felt a little weird for days and days to progress as if nothing happened - as if another potentially life-ending danger didn't just greet their mornings one day, and as if he didn't live a life that could end in any moment. But Aaron supposed he has gone through enough that the possibility of a sudden end could be just another every day thing.

Keeping time hasn't exactly been on Aaron's priority list during his life in the forest, so much so that he couldn't tell how long it was since they survived the indescribable, strange terrors of the run'an. He felt that it has been less than a week, certainly not more than two. The exact number of days is anyone's guess. And it wasn't that the days were so boring that they bled into each other, no. In fact, it was the opposite. So many things happened in one day that his mind almost couldn't keep up. In order to cope, Aaron measured time through significant events.

Granted, every day was noteworthy. You'd think living a stationary life in a place full of greenery would be boring and indistinct - you'd be wrong. He was in a new world, a different world. Everything is new.

But these happenings are different even then - the most significant of the significant, the most memorable of the memorable.

The first one, chronologically, is the start of the exercise. It started after one of their customary group breakfasts; Aaron remembered the event clearly because it was a break in their laid-back routine. Also because as Trasnu explained what was going to happen, he very distinctly had a weird, out-of-body experience, thinking about how they must look like while Trasnu laid out what would happen, and imagining whether or not their situation would fit in between the pages of a fantasy book. He was thinking that every magical, adventure-y kind of story he remembered always had its own training montage. And this was his.

Trasnu called it exercise, but really, it was more like the beastman's version of survival bootcamp from hell. Trasnu mercilessly ran him through his paces, and then more. And not even in the conventional, more familiar way, either. What was wrong with good ole push-ups and other exerting-at-the-same-time-stationary movements? But no - Trasnu's idea of exercise composed of exactly two things; running and climbing.

And oh, it wouldn't have been such a big deal. He kind of got the logic. Running builds up muscles, trains him for dangerous situations, familiarizes him with the insane terrain. He even kind of got the logic of climbing - there were trees literally everywhere they looked, so it makes sense to learn how to navigate them. What he didn't understand was why Trasnu didn't just leave it at that, why he had to chase after them and run them down.

It would always begin the same way; Trasnu would summon them in the middle of their camp, his businesslike manner betrayed by the glint of pure anticipation in his eyes. He would look at them one by one, tell them he'd stay put for several minutes as a head start, and then clap.

The two of them would take off in different directions like bullets from a gun, but their movements would be severely limited by the dense tangle of foliage everywhere. Aaron would jump, duck, weave, and contort his body into different positions as an attempt to try and get around the million grasping claws of the forest. He'd scrape his face with twigs, bruise his toes on hidden rocks, and lose his balance in treacherous footing - all to no avail; for seemingly not minutes later Trasnu would crash at him from out of fucking nowhere and his face would be on the ground, eating dirt, as the hunter tied his hands behind him. And then Trasnu would tell the young man that Lydia's already back at the camp, in the exact same situation as he was.

They would then make their (incredibly short) way home - in a kind of walk of shame with his hands tied behind his back and his head bowed to the ground - where they'd start all over again. Trasnu toyed with them until high noon, joking that it took him so little time to catch the teenagers that they might as well run around in circles at their camp.

It was yet another reminder of the young man's inadequacies, but this time at least he knew what was going on. Unlike the time with the spear-making, this time he knew not to let his frustrations get the better of him.

He vented his frustration by running faster, tearing through the jungle like a maddened juggernaut. When it became apparent that his ham-footed, aimless fleeing wasn't good for anything else except catharsis, he decided to become smarter. Aaron desperately learned to traverse the forest through extra lessons that he begged Serche for - discovering that Lydia was already ahead of him in that regard. Applying his lessons in actual chases was slow going, and he still ate dirt every time, but little by little the young man slowly learned to navigate the confusing and overwhelming environment of the forest's undergrowth.

Their 'exercise', thankfully, would end when the sun was high up in the sky. They'd eat some light lunch of whatever was left over from that night, and then Trasnu would redirect their efforts into seeing to the needs of their camp.

Now this part, Aaron actually looked forward to. There was something soothing about seeing his home come together out of nothing but twigs and vines and earth that spoke to him, soothed him, made him remember his place in this world. Whatever may happen outside of the foot-hardened boundaries of their little camp, he knew he had a place where he belonged - at least for the moment.

Despite Trasnu mentioning that they shouldn't "fluff their furs" on these comforts because they'd soon be leaving anyway, he still seemed pretty game about making almost everything the group agreed upon. And oh did they agree on a lot. When Serche proposed for their dwellings to be upgraded from lean-tos into treehouses, Trasnu all but wagged his tail in eagerness. Their beastmen friends claimed it was all for the sake of practicality - after all up in the air they were more protected from a variety of dangers that the forest floor presented, which is always an especially valid concern in their situation. It was Aaron' own personal opinion, however, that it wasn't just a matter of practicality, but also of familiarity for the beastmen.

As for his side, he'd like to say that its myriad of advantages was why he was so eager to have his own treehouse - but nah. Nope - the biggest reason he agreed was because it was just too damn cool.