Chapter 350: Confounding the Confounding Variables

“So…it may have been targeting you and spying on both you and the rest of our team for a good while,” Baelin said, annoyance marked his tone. “And it also had the wherewithal to set a trap for you by observing your asrai friend’s movements, and using the aeld tree to bait you. That is most interesting. And let us not forget the alliance between it and these two blue annis hags…that level of cooperation speaks to more intellect than I had originally prescribed to these creatures.”

His gaze shifted, settling on a shelf near the tent’s entrance. Najyah preened herself, happily oblivious to the ancient wizard’s stern gaze. Alex had to admire her  courage; he didn’t think he could have been quite as nonchalant under Baelin’s scrutiny.

Shifting his position on the carpet, he took in his companions.

Prince Khalik’s arms were folded across his chest and his jaw clenched under his beard. Isolde’s index finger rapidly tapped on her right knee, while Thundar scowled with his powerful arms also crossed on his chest. Theresa thumbed the hilt of one of her swords, Brutus panted beside her.

Confidants and close friends—everyone who knew Alex was the Fool—had been invited to meet with the chancellor in a tent he occupied when he was on site. He’d cast the same spell that masked conversation that he’d used when he and Alex strolled across campus the morning after Alex, Thundar and Khalik’s night spent knocking back plum brandy in the name of science. Sitting cross-legged on the tent floor to examine last night’s events in detail, made privacy from passersby vital.

Baelin’s nostrils flared. “One also has to consider the avian spies: that also speaks of a much deeper measure of intelligence. Not only did these monsters have the patience to observe us for months before acting, they also chose mundane creatures that occur naturally and abundantly in the area as spies. ”

His expression turned darker. “Blast it, I never once suspected the feathered snoops!”

Now Najyah did look at the chancellor, her feathers puffing up in offence.

Prince Khalik swore in Tekish. “I do not understand how I could have been so careless not to have noticed. An eagle is my familiar: who better to note suspicious birds than me? This…ambush happened, in part, because of my failure.”

“Blame will not bring us forward, Khalik,” Isolde said.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her finger drummed even faster. “We must focus on the potential repercussions and possible sources of this danger. …what shall we do about these birds? Do we watch each one that flies above the encampment or perches nearby?”

“No.” Baelin shook his head. His bronze beard-clasps clinked. “I’d rather leave safeguarding the camp to Watcher Shaw, Professor Jules, myself and others tasked with security. Our meeting should focus on weighing theories that Alex has presented: looking at whether or not these creatures follow The Ravener, or the demon, Ezaliel.

“Well, we know from dissecting them…” Isolde said. “That they certainly are not demons. …but, demons do attract cults made up of many sorts of mortal worshippers.”

“Indeed, some cults even use demonic chaos to craft their own mutants by warping flesh,” the chancellor said. “Though such experiments mostly lead to warped abominations that die within moments of their creation, and even those that survive, tend to be only useful as mindless fodder in battle: little better than beasts of burden…albeit beasts of burden with extra claws, limbs and fearsome teeth. Still, such experiments do produce a creature of high value on the rare occasion. Perhaps it was one of those.”

He looked at Alex. “Then again, your unique status lends some credence to the idea that these creatures have spawned from your Ravener. After all, some Ravener-spawn are rarer than others, and it could be that this is some unknown creation that has not yet appeared in the bestiaries.”

“Yeah, we don’t really know what the Ravener can and can’t do,” Thundar grunted.

“There’s some information in the history books: most previous generations of Heroes had their final battle against the Ravener recounted in songs, poems and recorded in epic tales.” Alex said. “But…we wouldn’t be here studying dungeon cores if the books had everything about Thameland’s oldest enemy in them.”

“Indeed…Ezaliel has proven to be quite the confounding variable. For every hypothesis, there is enough evidence to give the impression that it could be true, but not enough to confirm one, while denying the other. …so, we must act as though both could be true.”

Baelin looked at Alex. “I do believe this question will be a waste of breath, but do you still feel comfortable remaining with the expedition? Keep in mind that one fact can be confirmed: for whatever reason, you’ve been targeted. Actions were tailored to hunt and trap you…or indeed, those of you who were involved in saving this asrai…”

Baelin scanned the group. “You are all capable young people. Full of life. Full of vigour. Full of trained judgement and mounting power. However, an important aspect along the path of the Proper Wizard is assessing what—among life’s many complications—are challenges to be confronted, and death sentences to be avoided. Know that whatever the situation might have been last night, there is a chance that Alex, or all of you, might still be targets. Or all of us, for that matter. So, with that in mind, considering Alex’s personal involvement with last night’s clash, do any of you feel the need to excuse yourself from further involvement with the expedition?”

A chorus of ‘no’s filled the tent.

The chancellor then looked at Khalik. “And that goes for you as well? Are you sure?”

“Without doubt,” the prince said. “I would not be worthy to be called wizard or any title if I were to back away now. I was not the one in danger last night.”

The ancient wizard nodded. “Magnificent. You all may make your own decisions…but I am glad you’ve chosen to stay the course. Now then. Plans. I want each of you to be vigilant. I have no doubt you will be out in Greymoor and in the land beyond for expedition purposes, and your own personal goals: so be vigilant. Find more of these creatures if you can. Capture them if you can, unless you would be risking all to do so. I shall send surveyors to search out cells of Ezaliel’s cultists. They must be captured and interrogated about this matter and other foul dealings pertaining to their master.” He said that with distaste. “As for this…creature…the next time the Heroes or a Thameish delegation comes to Greymoor, I will make inquiries about them. Perhaps someone has encountered such a creature before. And with that, does anyone have any further thoughts or questions?”

“You want us to group up?” Thundar asked. “Not travel alone and stuff like that?”

Baelin looked at the minotaur like he’d suddenly sprouted two pairs of horns. “Of course not! I give you—as always—the autonomy to move as a large group or as a smaller one as needed. Indeed, perhaps at times, it would be better to break your team up for infiltration or other tasks of that nature. You are all capable. I shall not throw objections in your way…but, I cannot say the same for Professor Jules.”

Baelin looked at Alex. “I suspect that when she learns that the monsters were specifically targeting you, she will strongly argue that you be removed from the expedition for your safety. Naturally, I will go against this. At times such as these, we cannot run from the enemy. After all, turning your back to a wild beast is an excellent invitation for it to chase you…and if you forever run from every beast…then you will live in fear of the cave lion for your entire life. That is not the proper way.”

“Indeed,” Khalik said.

“Right,” Alex agreed.

“Now then, I will go and speak to Professor Jules. You all have duties to perform, and Alex, you have a tree to plant. Noon is approaching, and I do not want you to miss your opportunity.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, standing.

Baelin started for the tent flap, the carpet muffling the sound of his hooves. “Hmmmm…hmmm…hmmm…missed opportunity…”

“What was that, Baelin?” Alex asked.

“Hm…a thought occurs. The confounding variables involved with these clawed monsters will make it more difficult to get answers. We will show the Thaemish the creature’s remains, but if they have no knowledge to share, then we must rely on cultists. …and, of course, cultists tend to be fanatics. If we cannot get them to talk, or if what they say is useless, we would be back to square one. I’d much prefer to increase our options.”

The ancient wizard looked at Alex, nodding as if confirming something to himself.

“I think, my boy, you and I should go on a little hunt.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked. “You mean we go looking for more clawed monsters?”

“Oh my, no.” Baelin absently ran his fingers through his beard-braids. “If these beasts do come from the Ravener, then that should mean they are made by dungeon cores. A thorough examination of one could help unlock the secrets of these mysterious creatures.”

“But we’ve examined them thoroughly,” Isolde pointed out. “We have not found anything about how they create monsters.”

“Indeed, and that is why I will rearrange my schedule to pursue one personally. It is true that we have examined the remains of dungeon cores.” Baelin drew himself up to his full height. “But perhaps it’s time to capture and study a live one.”

###

“So, you’ve gotta time it right.” Professor Salinger was saying, standing within the circle of wizards. As Alex approached the magical botany teacher, he could see him craning his neck, squinting up at the sun. “Ah, yeah, we’re lucky. Sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. Perfect aeld planting weather. Caufield!”

He pointed at one of his assistants who clutched a portable timepiece inches from his face. The young man’s bloodshot eyes blinked slowly, never straying from the device. “Professor?”

“Now remember, you must tell me the exact instant it becomes noon. Not one second after or two before. The more precise we are, the better and—Aha! Roth!”

He pointed at the gathered wizards. “Come on, people, let him through, let him through.”

Everyone cleared a path for the broad-shouldered wizard making his way to the centre of the crowd. There, Salinger, his assistants, Claygon and the aeld tree stood under the near-noon sun, waiting beside a great hole in the earth, and a large mound of soil.

Waves of curiosity alternated with acknowledgement as Alex approached the tree. It was starting to recognize him.

“Hello.” He nodded to the aeld. “I hope everyone’s taking good care of you!”

A wave of contentment drifted from it.

“Feel that? That should be answer enough,” Salinger said. “You have to be part of the digging, Mr. Roth. It’s becoming more comfortable around me, but there’s been a lot of noise and new sights it’s still adjusting to. You saved it, so you should be here to calm it.”

“Got it.” Alex rubbed his hands together.

“Perfect,” Professor Salinger said. “Someone get this man a shovel!”

“A shovel?” the young wizard asked, spotting a group of students nearby: some were stretching like they were warming up for a competition, some held sturdy looking shovels, while a pair were placing incense into censers.

A young man stepped forward, pushing a shovel into Alex’s hands.

“We’re not using magic?” the Thameish wizard asked Salinger.

“No, it’s better if we do this by hand.” The professor picked up his own shovel. “When it comes to spirit trees, it’s important to give respect, make something of a ceremony out of the planting process, and even present a sacrifice. It’s all part of the ritual.”

“Ceremony?” Alex asked. “Gwyllain—uh, the asrai that brought me to the aeld—didn’t say anything about a ceremony.”

“Ah, well, not everyone or every culture believes in the same things, but there’s been a lot of correlated data that speaks to increased spiritual plant health when the spirits within are appeased,” Salinger said. “Which means, having a ceremony for major events like planting, having sacrifices, and all that good stuff.”

“Sounds almost religious.” Alex held the shovel in one hand, stretching his fingers and wrists.

“That’s because it comes from religion,” Professor Salinger said. “From the early, early mortal days, certain cave paintings and oral traditions speak of the worship of spiritual plants as predating the common worship of deities. There was even a theory that our world hung in the branches of a ‘world tree’. Another tradition says that the first seeds of all spirit trees fell off the back of an ‘Earthborne’.”

“What’s an earthborne?” Alex asked.

Salinger shrugged. “No one’s been able to find out. Could’ve been an earth elemental, some sort of extinct race of people or monster, or even a title from ancient tribal times. Nobody knows. The point is, ceremony and spiritual plants are woven all throughout mortal history. And, aha!”

“Sorry we’re late!” Khalik’s voice boomed.

The prince pushed through the crowd, flanked by Thundar, Theresa and Brutus. Grimloch brought up the rear.

“We had other duties to attend to,” the prince said. “But we are here now and ready to help.”

“Perfect, the more the merrier,” Salinger said. “Get ‘em some shovels.”

His assistants handed each newcomer—except Brutus naturally—a shovel. Grimloch’s looked more like a child’s garden spade in his giant hands—drawing looks of amusement.

“Are we not using magic?” Khalik asked.

Salinger just sighed. “Blah, blah, blah: spirit likes ceremony. Better to do it by hand. I don’t have time to go over it agai—”

“Professor!” Caufield cried. “Two minutes to noon!”

“—yeah, definitely no time! Alright, I want all of you to follow my instructions precisely.” He quickly counted everyone holding a shovel, then uttered an incantation. The earth trembled, and ‘X’s appeared around the hole at equidistant points. “Everybody pick an X and claim that spot as your own. Then, when you hear me start singing and shovelling, follow my rhythm as closely as you can. You won’t know the words to the song, but the tune's simple and easy to pick up, so just hum along. It’ll help you keep rhythm and serve the ritual. Now hurry, get in place!”

The diggers looked at each other then scrambled into position.

Casting another spell, Salinger caused the mound of soil to shudder and separate, dividing into smaller piles. They glided around the hole like earthworms, each taking a position behind a digger.

“You’ve got your soil.” Salinger unwrapped the burlap from the aeld tree’s roots, then raised his shovel and took a position by an ‘X’. “I’ll start the song precisely at noon. Alex, when I point down, have your golem lower the sapling into the hole.

“Got it.”

The two wizards holding the incense burners positioned themselves directly north and south of the circle, lighting the incense with a quick incantation. Smoke drifted from within, floating from the censers and falling to the earth where it hung like a low cloud of mist on a cold spring day. The scent was soothing as all waited in silence.

And then…

“Noon, Professor!” Caufield cried.

Salinger took a deep breath.

Then he fell into song.