Chapter 15

Whisper had been able to gather fifteen more vials from within the sealed room. Two of the vials were cracked, and their liquids had long along drained from the glass. One was missing its ornate metal stopper. Five more were empty and spotless inside, almost awaiting their magical contents. The rest contained a multitude of exotic liquids.

The filled vials all glowed with the many different colors of the spectrum. Two of the white filled vials actually reacted and glowed when in the presence of a light source. Another capsule which contents were silver-blue felt strangely cold to the touch. The most eerie of the capsules contained a pulsating black liquid that almost seemed to be breathing, even after all of these millennia.

The small Gilly was unable to locate any documents pertaining to the vials, or at least any that she could understand. She couldn't read the common language perfectly, nor any of the ancient texts. Papers containing information could possibly be resting within the room, but Donovan was not going to be able to read them on this day.

Before heading outside, Donovan made sure to help the oddly clothed Gilly find something more to her liking. They visited the barracks to look for some more appropriate attire fitting of the young girl. Whisper gladly raided several dusty closets for anything that might catch her eye. After just a few moments she was wearing a mishmash of robes originally worn by females of the parish. They fit a bit better to her form and she was quite pleased to be rid of the crude burlap smock. She seemed to favor fabrics with a blue tint that more closely matched the color of her eyes. Around her waist she carried a cloth bag that contained the mystery vials they were about to test. She still chose to not wear any shoes even after Donovan's insistence.

He had decided to wear some armor, just as he once had, for this test. Unfortunately for the aged warrior, his Protectorate suit of old no longer fit his large frame. He had grown stouter over the years and he could no longer wear it comfortably. Instead he had to settle on a set of rusted plate mail found within one of the cavern storerooms. While the suit could be coerced to fit appropriately, it was most certainly not comfortable. The thick shoulder sections cut into the aging warrior's neck, and the iron bands around his legs felt tight. In addition, with each movement the metal plates seemed to screech and wail. It was not a perfect solution, but it would have to do.

Donovan had settled on a slightly open patch of forest that was a distance away from the entrance to Ternail Dae. He didn't want to take any chances being noticed during this experiment, and he really did not have a clue as to what might happen with these capsules. He knew that ancient magic was nothing to be toyed with, but the warrior was terribly curious about the purpose of the vials.

The area he had chosen was bordered by large trees the same width of a small home. The bark of these trees appeared tremendously thick, and to the touch they felt like stone. Upon the forest's floor was the traditional emerald moss, and a fine layer of dew was painted across much of it. A faint purple light emanated from the upper canopy on this early afternoon. The wind was slightly warm and the air tasted sweet and moist. An occasional amber leaf would fall from the sky and float through the air.

"So which vial are we going to test? The purple one, the green, the orange? How about the black one? I think the cloudy purple one should be tested first. I think it is very pretty. The color of the liquid is like the eyes of my father." Whisper began her tradition of unending questions yet again.

"Which one felt cold to the touch? The blue one? I'll try that one first."

"The blue one? Why would you want to try the blue one? These other ones look much more interesting. Are you sure?"

"Can I please have the blue vial, Whisper? I'd like to see what it will do."

Begrudgingly she handed over the blue-filled vial. With a quick depression of the button along the hilt, the warrior was able to remove the red vial they had inserted earlier. He switched out the capsules and locked the blue one in place just as he had done before.

Almost immediately the metal blade within his hands began to feel cool to the touch. Only a few moments had passed before a layer of frost coated the upper tip of the blade and its sharp edges. White fog began to be cast from the center channel. As he slowly swung it through the air, a trail of white mist traced the sword's movements.

Whisper was entranced by the weapon. "Isn't that odd? Does it feel like ice? How cold is it? That fog is quite weird isn't it? Is it enchanted? That is what is happening right?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. It doesn't feel any different than before other than it feels colder. It doesn't 'feel' more powerful."

"Well, what are you going to test it on? Maybe one of these trees? How about the large boulder over there. I see a dead log over there near that incline."

Donovan walked up to the base of one of the large trees. A thousand wrinkles lay upon the deep brown bark. The top of the tree seemed to rise into the air until it could no longer be seen. It was as good of a test target as anything else within the forest.

Beginning with a lightly powered swing, he reached back to his right and struck the thick bark. The blade cut about an inch into the bark. Pieces of wood flew into the air as if he had struck it with a simple axe.

A puzzle Donovan spoke, "Hrm, I assumed something more would have happened. It behaved just like a regular sword attack. The strength of my swing was not improved, and nothing special has happened to this tree. Now what?"

"Maybe try something with that button on the handle. Maybe that is the secret…"

With the sword pointing towards the ground, Donovan pressed the bump on the handle with his thumb.

The mystery vial released from its locked position and slid smoothly down the chamber. Once it hit the weapon's tip, the glass shattered. Immediately the frost which had encrusted the sword turned into a thick layer of crystalline ice. The icy fog that used to emanate from the center now transformed into small sections of snow that flaked off from the metal. The blade of the weapon was apparently frozen, but the hilt's temperature had not changed. Donovan lifted the sword into the air and a thick, visibly white mist trailed its motions.

Whisper began to jump up and down. "Now strike the tree! Maybe the magic will happen now!"

The warrior struck the tree again, this time with a greater force. The icy blade pierced several inches deep into the burgundy bark and became stuck within the ancient wood. A thick frost quickly radiated up the tree away from the blade. Deep cracking noises could be heard within the tall tree. The wrinkled bark began to turn whitish blue.

Whisper quickly hid behind a distant tree.

Donovan struggled to pull the blade free from the thick wood. He tugged at the hilt, but the weapon did not budge. The warrior resorted to planting his foot upon the trunk to help with leverage. Grasping the great sword's handle with both of his hands, and with his boot pressing strongly against the bark, he was able to pull the blade free with a great tug.

The base of the tree in front of him shattered into thousands of pieces. Large and tiny splinters covered in ice flayed out in every direction. The splinters danced off of the warrior's protective armor and fell to the floor. The splinters were accompanied by a flurry of powdered snow that exploded into the air. The ice and snow blanketed the nearby area, including the stunned warrior.

A great thud was heard as the top of the tree, which had not shattered from the blow, fell down upon the remaining trunk with all of its weight. The splintered tree teetered for a moment on its temporarily pedestal. Unable to balance upon the broken trunk, it toppled over away from Donovan's current position. Hundreds of spider-like branches cracked and split as the treetop smashed into the moss covered ground.

Whisper rejoined the snow covered warrior. A look of amazement graced her impish features.

In front of them lay not only the fallen tree, but also an apparently hollow cavity where the base had once been. The space looked oddly like a room of some kind. Several objects, which now looked to be nothing but broken boards and splinters, littered the floor. Whisper had taken a few steps closer to investigate when she was startled by a voice.

"What have you done to my home?!?" The deep voice was accompanied by heavy breathing. The haunting voice almost seemed to echo through the air.

Whisper quickly retreated back from the hollow trunk and hid behind Donovan. She tilted her head around his right side to get a better look.

From behind another tree several paces away came striding a figure which was slowly moving into the area. It looked like a man, but its clothes and skin were abnormal. A thick layer of leaves and wood covered its entire form. Its wrinkled face looked to be covered with brown bark, and upon its guise were two solid bright green eyes that shone through the afternoon mist. A layer of emerald green leaves traced its chin and the area below its flat rectangular nose. Upon its head it wore a large brown brimmed hat. In its hands were a long thin weapon accompanied by a large wooden shield. The mysterious figure continued to walk towards the duo.

"What have you done?!?" the wooden voice asked again, now only a few steps away.

"We didn't mean to! Is this your tree? We are so sorry. Tremendously sorry! We were just testing. We didn't know that anyone lived in there! Please don't kill us!" the tiny girl pleaded.

"Testing? Testing on my home! Look what you have done to it! This room is completely destroyed!"

Donovan responded, "We are sorry… sir? We did not mean to cause you distress. It was not out intention."

"They what was your intention?!? To destroy every tree within this forest with your 'tests'?"

Donovan realized that the situation was getting worse. He positioned the great silver sword directly in front of him in preparation for an attack.

"Ah, a warrior of men. I have fought your kind… and won. Do you wish to fight me this day? Your actions seem to suggest so." Creaking noises could be heard emanating from within the wooden figure.

"No, I have no wish to fight you. But I will defend myself and my companion if the need arises."

"That is a likely situation for you on this day, warrior. I demand repercussions for this terrible act. Maybe I shall remove that other eye of yours? Would you like that? Maybe we can consider it a 'test'."

With the threat from the wooden man, Whisper immediately hopped up and effortlessly climbed the length of one of the tall trees behind the duo. She quickly disappeared into the upper canopy of leaves. Frenetic chirping could be heard calling down from the branches.

"Two strange new creatures in as many days," the warrior thought. "What other surprises can I expect?"

The wooden man lunged at Donovan, its thin sword cutting through the air. Donovan easily parried the first blow, as well as the second and third. With a quick shifting of his feet he was able to shove the attacker away from him. The being rolled backwards twice amongst the moss.

"I do not wish to fight you this day you… you…. What are you?"

"I am Centient of the Sylvan. I am going to be your punisher on this day!"

The Sylvan pounced again, this time aiming for Donovan's legs. The warrior continued to defend against the blows, not yet retaliating against this new foe. Their blades clashed and the clanging of the metal echoed through the forest.

"Are you a man of some kind? An automaton of some sort? A living tree?" The warrior pestered the Sylvan with his questions as he defended from the figure's attacks.

"I am beyond your feeble thinking, and you couldn't possibly understand what I am. I am 'the living'… and I will be living long after I have disposed of you!"

The skirmish had pressed Donovan to retreat up next to one of the great trees. Feeling pinned, he spun from one of Centient's heavy blows and skipped several steps away. He still had not made an offensive maneuver during the fight.

Centient twisted and threw his wooden shield at Donovan. The wooden disc spun through the air and hit the old warrior directly in his chest. A great dent appeared within the aged metal. He was knocked back onto the ground and slid several feet on the mossy floor.

The leaf-covered man leapt on top of Donovan and stuck with his sword. Donovan rolled out of the way just in time to dodge the blow. The thin sword of the attacker sliced through the ground with ease.

Donovan was becoming tired of defending from this incessant attacker. He did not mean to destroy this creature's home, but he had done so just the same. It seemed that this being wanted to pick a fight, and so the warrior decided to grant him that wish.

Centient strafed to the warrior's right and charged with his sword aimed at the aged warrior in front of him. Anticipating the blow, Donovan lurched back and swung his great silver sword. The blade effortlessly cut through the air and connected with the enraged Sylvan.

One of the wooden man's limbs flew through the air. The attack severed Centient's right arm just above his elbow, cutting through the figure's body with ease. No blood flowed and no screams were heard. A sharp-pointed stump where the extremity had once been was all that was left.

Centient faced the retired Protectorate. "Nice blow with that swing. You may think you have harmed me, but lucky for me that limb will grow back in time. Can the same be said for you!?!"

The Sylvan raced back to his fallen limb upon the forest floor, quickly twisting and grabbing the thin weapon with his remaining hand. Once rearmed, he went on the offensive yet again.

The battle continued for several more moments. Each fighter seemed an equal for the other, with a majority of the blows being countered by the other. One blow from the wooden man had connected with Donovan's side, but the heavy armor combined with a rolling maneuver staved any injury. During another attack, one of Donovan's strikes had sliced deep into the center of Centient's chest. The Sylvan appeared to feel no pain and a long cut across his chest was the only evidence of the attack.

Donovan was tiring of this fight and of the Sylvan. It was apparent that it might not be possible to defeat this attacker, save for chopping off every single limb one by one. He had to find another way to end the confrontation.

The tree-like fighter lifted his remaining arm into the air and arched his thin blade down towards Donovan's head. Acting quickly, Donovan placed his left gauntleted hand in the path of the blow. When the weapon connected with the metal glove, Donovan clasped down hard on the thin blade. By stepping backwards he was able to pull back and disarm the Sylvan, whom temporarily lost his balance due to the odd defense.

Not taking a moment to catch his breath, he lowered the blade and flipped the thin sword around in his left hand. He rushed towards the wooden man in a tackle, and pushed the attacker several paces backwards. The pair raced towards one of the tall trees. With the tip of the thin blade at the Centient's chest, he stabbed at the Sylvan. The blade passed through the middle of the fighter's chest and embedded itself into the thick wood behind him.

Donovan stepped back from the attacker. The Sylvan had been pinned to the tree and the warrior stood there watching the unarmed fighter struggle to remove himself. Centient squirmed to pull away from the tree, but he was unable to pry the weapon loose.

The victorious warrior shouted towards the treetops. "Whisper, we need to leave! Follow me!" He began to run away from the trapped fighter.

Bird chirps echoed through the upper canopy in response.

The defeated Sylvan yelled with rage, "Come back here! Where I was initially content with just seeing you bleed as payment for your actions, now I will most certainly strive to cleave your monstrous head from your flesh-filled body! I will find you! Mark my words! This battle has not ended…!"

The echoing voice of the pinned Sylvan became quieter as Donovan raced further away. With each step, the warrior could hear less and less of the ramblings of the wooden warrior. Instead all he could hear were the sounds of the twigs snapping beneath his feet. Once he had reached a considerable distance from the battle, the cries of the dejected Sylvan could be heard no more.

Continue to Chapter 16