Root & Branch

The personal diary of Sorashi, daughter of Deirdre, pt 20

I have no idea how long I have been in this state, neither waking nor sleeping, but my consciousness returns as my body repairs.

The pain is a low, tight burn, like lying in the sun too long, but the danger has passed – and I am still alive.

Shaky, unfocussed and mentally foggy, but alive – flashes back to my first Change, that sense of dislocation, not knowing what I was or should be.

I lay, letting my mind return to clarity and then I sit up, wondering if I should return to work but Fiona tuts and shakes her head. I hadn’t noticed she was there, but the poison concerned her sufficiently to keep me under observation. I do not argue.

As I am obviously not going to die immediately, she leaves the tent – I continue letting my mind and body find their focus until her return.

She looks tired, but repeats her statement that she needs to keep an eye on me. I ask if there is anything I can do, and reassure her that I am feeling better – she opens her mouth in protest, but then reconsiders and asks for refreshments. She needs to do a Trump reading for Benedict.

Unsure if I am integral to the reading, she needs a guard or is still not convinced of my recovery, I arrange food and drink and return to the tent.

It seems she cannot contact Amber, nor can she access Pattern – as though something has changed in Amber – so needs to see what the cards tell her. Home, family, Amber – struck down in the tower, again as culminator. Llewella as Focus. Something is blocking our progress – whatever has happened to Amber, perhaps? And Llewella has divinatory powers.

It seems a trip to Rebma is called for, as Fiona droops off to much-needed sleep. And I go in search of Llewella.

It seems that she cannot link with her mirror in Amber, but can contact Rebma. A brief discussion with someone there informs us that there has been a large earthquake in Amber and part of it has slipped into the sea – a substantial amount of the eastern shore has gone, replaced with new land to the south. The entire geography had changed – Rebma itself was also damaged but several years ago and not as catastrophically.

Llewella, after a little thought, surmised she may be able to get a small party through to Rebma, but (gesturing with the small hand mirror she is holding) she will need a far bigger mirror. I wonder aloud if the lizardmen would have something – after all, they have a city, so some civilisation but she shudders and forcefully discards the suggestion. The creatures, she explains are ‘unclean’.

I get the feeling we may not have another option, but that comment does not escape my teeth. Kirgiz is discussed and discarded as an option for many reasons, the stress of travelling being one of them (and I am not fond of migraines).

There is another seed of information – there is something in the roots of Ygg, something of the same order of being as that which delivered Undead William however many aeons ago. It is not conducive to Ygg’s health.

I write a report for Fiona, and leave it for her to read when she wakes up, grab some food in passing and go in search of Margrath to ask about loas.

Firstly, I need to know what I do with a loa? The fact they are grown like gourds from a seed is interesting but not wildly helpful. Margrath suggests I talk to it – I remember my somewhat tart response to Dirk with his somewhat similar dilemma, and feel a little abashed.

The creature needs a name – its roiling, faintly grey-brown colour reminds me of the Great Holy River and I am inspired to call it Ganges. It has a fondness for rum and brown sugar (the nut does not fall far from the betel tree, it seems) and its ability is ‘to see souls’.

I presume it can do other things, but its petulance at the non-availability of rum is causing the conversation to stall, so that will do for now. I procure some rum from one of Dirk’s men and placate it for the time being.

Duty calls, however, so griffin-form and take my shift in aerial reconnaissance, relieving Rachael and Alitta. DeLambre joins me.

As the light fades, I am relieved by Alitta (with an owl’s head) and one of the chaots, House Karm, I think, in the form of a bat. I go down and make my report to Darig – although the fact the flying creatures do not seem to fly in the dark would seem hopeful, the lizard army’s constant and steady increase is not. We discuss Ganges’ abilities – counting of souls would give us a clearer idea of their numbers – so, after Fiona’s kind donation of brown sugar from her personal supply, I send the loa off to find out what it can.

Awaiting its return, I go to find Tajal. The poor child is worried and afraid – both the upcoming battle and the possibility that Amber is no longer there. I calm her fears as best I can – the battle, all I can counsel is to stay safe and stay near Surpenakha, Amber is still there albeit changed in some way. It helps, a little, but sometimes a little is all we can give.

Ganges returns to report that, in the thousands of lizard men in the enemy army, there is not one soul. The best I can ascertain is they are constructs of Power, and there is a conduit between Ygg’s roots (or something under Ygg’s roots) and something large and powerful in the city.

This comforting piece of information delivered on its way to Benedict, I go and sleep.

Around ‘dawn’ I am jolted back to wakefulness by screaming from the tent next to mine – fear, pain, maybe even loss. I rush into the tent; Llewella is lying curled up, still screaming. I check quickly – no dead bodies, no blood, no wounds. A good start, at least.

“Llewella, it’s Sorashi. What do you see?”

“Llewella, talk to me!”

In halting tones, she describes her vision – a battle, we are besieged by the lizards. We are holding, but then a huge snake comes out of the ground, killing and crushing all in its path, and all is lost.

Margrath pokes a wary head into the tent – I yell at him to tell command. I hear him explaining to William – impatient, I rush out and complete the story properly. William gives me a look of mild outrage but I have little patience for his sense of decorum.

I leave him, Darig and Fiona arguing about what to do, transform and take my shift at aerial reconnaissance, with Rachael.

The lizard army is on the move towards our position – towards Ygg – supported by their flying creatures. A lot more of them now, I estimate at least two dozen – easily twice what we had seen before – in two v-formations.

Attack formations.

Rachael is despatched to warn command, and I am joined shortly by Alitta and Surpenakha – just as 3 of the creatures break off to attack.

The one attacking Alitta misses her, swoops down too low into a hail of arrows from the ground, forcing it to limp up to higher altitude and retreat. Surpenakha, true to form, grabs one and clings to it – they plummet, she gleefully hacks at it whilst it tries in vain to escape, clawing ineffectually at the air until close to the ground. She lets go, and it crashes into the scrubby grass – whether it would have survived is moot as a group of soldiers make quick work of ensuring it doesn’t.

I cannot take too long witnessing its demise, I have my own adversary. It seems to be more concerned with the ground than me, so I fly to intercept, trying to bring Pattern to mind but it changes course and snaps at me, breaking my concentration. A mouth full of needle-like teeth flies past my vision – distracted, I narrowly dodge the attack as the teeth score down my flank. I twist and kick sideways blindly, by the Unicorn’s horn I manage to connect with something solid and the creature hisses and flaps away to a higher altitude. It has the advantage there and flies back to its comrades – I do not follow.

My wounds are half-healed by the time I reach the ground – I check carefully, but there is no sign of poison in the wound. Something, at least.

It seems the aerial attacks have been aborted – we have shown we have teeth, it would seem.

As soon as I am dressed, I am commandeered into a discussion on travelling to the lizard’s city – a pre-emptive raid to avoid the outcome that so distressed Llewella. The plan is that those of us who can fly, will bring an initial team, who will Trump through those we cannot carry. To avoid the enemy fliers, we go at dark – I am to carry William, Surpenakha carries Margrath and Richard and Alitta and DeLambre fly unencumbered in case of any nasty surprises.

I make my farewells to Tajal, who is being brave. I hug her tight and tell her to stay with family and make sure she has weapons, though not to fight unless she has to. I could tell her reassuring lies of how it will all be alright, but those are lies which may get her killed – I may not be a traditional mother, but her survival is important to me.

The trip itself takes about 2 hours as far as I can estimate, but we are unbothered by the flying creatures and no other nasty surprises befall us on the way.

We fly over a grouping of pyramids of various sizes, near the large statue of a coiled cobra and, on a lower rectangular pyramid, a large concave mirror pointed towards Ygg. There is a bonfire near it, 6 reptilian forms gathered around it with others, guards I would guess, on the steps leading down.

William slides off as we land, and I shift into tiger-form. And then battle commences.

I remember only flashes, vignettes – the impact as I knock two guards over on my way down; Surpanakha’s grin as she slices through another. Two priests in front of me, one chanting frantically as I hear the clatter of armour behind me; dodging the downward swing of the creature’s weapon and the tinny taste of its blood.

The silence as the chanting ceases and the crackling scrape of enormous scales against stone as the mirror disgorged a snake larger than Sheshenaga, fangs the length of my arm and an aura of menace. I start bringing Pattern to mind as our party attack – the Trump must have worked as there are at least twenty of us.

It strikes, lightning-fast and two of our troops fall. DeLambre wounds it slightly but his retreat is just minesculy too slow, and the monster’s fang finds a mark.

Soldier lizards running into the fray, an odd keening – fear, anger, triumph or orders, I don’t know.

The frantic beating of weapons against the monster, and William’s final, decisive thrust upward into the creature’s skull, finally killing it.

The stench of death, and the fouler odour of the creature as it shrivels and disintegrates into ashes.

And it seems we are victorious – DeLambre is Trumped through – his colour is not good, I can only imagine the toxicity of that venom. I hope he lives.

The huge statue of the hooded cobra – the lizards name it Yig – still dominates but, now things are less tumultuous, there is time to see that, on the tip of its tongue there is a round object.

Strangely, it looks like a fruit – an apple or a persimmon, perhaps.

I ask one of our lizardmen to find out from one of the captive priests what the significance is of the object. This might take some time.

But we now have a mirror.