Evolve Page 5

  Chapter 3: The Reaping

  Merus Moonreader stared out of his bedroom window. It was around midday, but he couldn’t seem to find any rest; although his people were nocturnal. He watched as some of the denizens of Woodhaven prepared for the upcoming festivities this evening. It was the night of the harvest moon, and every year when it rose into the sky, the wood elves celebrated the Reaping.

  When the night began to carry a chill, and the forest was at its most active with the fauna hunting in preparation for the lean winter, the tribal council, led by its chief, would predict the time of the harvest moon. From that day, the Guardians of the Wyldwood would make ready for an honorable contest to win the forest’s favor and become the next Chief of Woodhaven.

  Merus had been a Guardian since he had come of age. He hadn’t been a particularly mighty or able hunter, but he had been endowed with a sense of curiosity and intelligence that had allowed him to understand the ways of the Wyldwood in a way that his more physically skilled peers could only envy. While the other children spent their days chasing rabbits and squirrels until the small game were finally caught, Merus had been building snares around the perimeter of the Woodhaven fields.

  Instead of catching small game for the dinner pot, he had crafted a rabbit pen by using magic to entice a young tree to grow itself into the shape. In a month, Merus had surprised his parents with a litter of rabbits. After that, he provided a sustainable source of extra meat. His parents were ecstatic. A stable source of food and hide was precious in the Wyldwood where one false step could put you in an early grave.

  Merus smiled at the memory. Of course, the sense of wonder and excitement he felt at the accomplishment had been tainted when the forest had selected him to be one of its Guardians a few short years later. The life of a Guardian, while respected, wasn’t an easy one. The spirit of the forest, Silvys had a simple rule: the strong killed the weak, and the forest prospered.

  The title of Guardian had been around longer than living memory in Woodhaven. The elders on the council liked to gather up the children in the forest village and tell them an ancient tale about the Guardians. According to them, a Lord of Light descending upon the Wyldwood and blessed the elves there with her power. They were supposed to become peerless warriors in defense of her people.

  Merus didn’t think much of the story. Guardians were endowed with extra speed and strength over their elven peers, but it wasn’t much. Someone like Merus went from an unlikely candidate as a hunter to a passable one. All of the other Guardians were significantly better fighters. The most significant benefit they were imbued with was the ability to commune with the protective spirits of the forest and Silvys itself.

  This led Merus to precisely the reason he was worried about this particular Reaping. The ceremony was a form of ritual combat. Each Guardian was expected to delve into the forest and find the most virile, dangerous animals and kill them without using weapons. The point of the exercise was to demonstrate their competency only using the natural gifts of the forest. The most capable one was chosen to lead the elder council over the next year. It allowed the tribe to bring new blood into the village leadership while maintaining a council of wise and experienced elder elves. The previous chief would then participate in the next year’s Reaping. The process didn’t allow for a chief to remain leader of the tribe for longer than a year at a time.

  Since midsummer, Merus had felt his connection to the forest grow weaker. The other Guardians refused to entertain his worries, but he knew that out of them, he was most sensitive to its changes. A couple of months before the Reaping, he had taken the opportunity to scout the perimeter of the Wyldwood. He had been horrified by what he found there. The perimeter trees, hulking sentinels enchanted with the power of the forest, had looked sickly and weak. This was worrying because the trees created a mystical barrier between the Wyldwood and the rest of the world. It kept the elves from leaving, but it also kept them safe.

  Most of the elves had never wanted to leave the woods in the first place. Anyone that had attempted to leave usually ended up dead at the hands of the Guardians; when they inevitably tried to harm the perimeter trees. When Merus had warned the council of their health, instead of looking terrified, they seemed pleased. They told him it was a portent of times to come. Merus left more mystified than when he had arrived.

  No matter the machinations of the council, it had severe ramifications for the Reaping. If the spirit of the forest was fading, then so too would the occupants within. There would be little wildlife that would have the requisite vitality to impress Silvys. Worse, the Guardians would be incentivized to hunt each other instead. Killing fellow Guardians wasn’t against the rules of the Reaping. It had fallen out of favor in recent decades, but it wasn’t uncommon for a disagreement between Guardians to become a full clash during the Reaping. After all, what was more vital to the growth of the forest than a fellow Guardian?

  The forest provides.

  Merus sighed and turned away from the window. The preparations made him feel vaguely sick. He walked across the room to study himself in a magically polished wooden mirror. He wasn’t sure that this year he would be amongst the survivors. He could see the stress manifest onto himself, in the wrinkles of his shiny black eyes. His wife would tell him that he didn’t need to worry. The forest would provide for them, it always had. For some reason, it didn’t feel particularly true today.

  He turned to study his wife, Lucelynia Moonreader, lying on the bed near him. Maudlin thoughts made him study her face as if memorizing it for the last time.

  Silvys, she is beautiful. He thought.

  She was asleep on her side facing towards Merus. Her midnight hair curled around her face like creeping vines until they descended past her navel. She was lying naked on the bed, but instead of looking carnal, she looked wholesome and innocent.

  She was his reason for everything. She was as wise as an elder, and as loving as any elf could wish for. The worst part was that she trusted him implicitly, and he felt that he couldn’t betray that trust by confiding in her the source of his woes. With a wry smile, he caught sight of her full breasts coyly hidden in the covers. The view lit Merus’ blood on fire. He was struck by her heavenly visage once again. The soft sounds of her breathing brought him a modicum of peace as he reflected on this evening’s festivities.

  As if his wife could sense his mood, she shifted in her sleep. The covers slipping down to reveal a nut-brown nipple against her olive-toned skin. The sight incensed Merus.

  “Come back to bed,” she muttered sleepily.

  Merus walked over gently. “Shhh,” he replied lovingly. “Go to sleep now my heart, we have a big night ahead of us.”

  “Okay.” She replied contentedly, clearly ensconced in her dreams still.

  Merus stripped down until he was naked and slipped his toned body into the bed next to hers. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, and she nestled deeper into the curve of his body until she was comfortable. She sighed happily.

  These were the moments that Merus lived for. If he was honest, he didn’t care much for Silvys or the elders. They had graced him with a blessing that he neither wanted nor had he asked for. He would have been as happy being a craftsman or a sheepherder as he was as a protector. The only thing he really cared about was lying right next to him; his beautiful wife, Lucelynia. For some inscrutable reason, she had chosen him despite a plethora of other prospects vying for her attention. Instead of settling on one of the many impressive warriors that Woodhaven boasted, she had picked the bookish young man who loved her as much as he loved his home.

  Merus awoke when the moon rose, not realizing he had fallen asleep. He opened his eyes and realized that Lucelynia had already risen. He rubbed the dryness from his eyes and swung his body to rest his feet on the floor.

  “I’m in the den, my heart,” a musical voice called.

  He smiled and rose to his feet before padding into the next room. There was a muted green fire crackling in the hearth. It wasn
’t to see by, their eyes easily penetrated the gloom. He saw his wife mixing a substance into a bowl. It glowed blue in the darkness of their den.

  “Lynia, you should have woken me earlier,” he said reproachfully. “There’s not much time left until the Reaping.”

  She flashed him a dimpled grin at the use of her nickname. “You weren’t sleeping well,” she said factually. “You needed all the sleep you could get before tonight.” She vigorously mixed the ingredients in the mortar in her lap. The increased force caused them to react more strongly and glow even brighter.

  “Besides,” she said, strain in her voice. “The elders are predicting that tonight is a special Reaping. They won’t tell me exactly what they think is going to happen, but they’re approaching it with an excitement that I haven’t seen from them in ages.”

  Merus scowled. “They’re always meddling, and yet they’re not the ones to participate in the Reaping.” Lynia gave him a level look. “You know that’s not fair,” she reprimanded. “Each of the elders has fought in a Reaping and been the Chief of Woodhaven many times before. Fools don’t tend to make it on the council.”

  Merus decided not to pursue the subject. Lynia spent a considerable amount of her time running errands for the council. They valued her practical, logical mind. She had a head for numbers and figures and could calculate the long-term yield on a farmer’s field ten years in advance. Her skills hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she had been cultivated from a young age to assist the council in their guidance of the village. Had she been chosen by Silvys to become a Guardian, she would have made a formidable administrator in her own right. Thankfully, at least to Merus, she had never been selected for that burden.

  “Come here, it's time to apply this.” She offered, as a way out of his surly mood, gesturing to the compound in her lap. Merus moved closer, and Lynia stood up with the mortar and pestle in hand. She began to apply some to her hand and started to draw woad designs onto his skin. The substance faintly glowed in the dark. He was completely naked, and he must remain so for the remainder of the ceremony tonight. After a short while, the process was done, and Merus studied the designs on his skin. They were ancient runes of protection and fortune painted all over his body. Like everything Lynia did, they weren’t simple characters. She had drawn artistic designs that conformed to the natural contours and curves of his body. The effect made him look intimidating and arcane.

  It wasn’t much, but it made him feel more secure about tonight, which had probably been her intent. She knew him better than he knew himself. She smiled up at him, her gaze full of love and support. “Are you ready to leave?” She asked him. He sighed. The sooner the night started, the sooner it could be over. “Yes, let’s get this over with,” he replied.

  They exited the entrance to their home and found themselves on the woven wooden bridges that connected their treehouses nestled amongst the boughs of the gargantuan trees. Nearby, a set of stairs had been carved from the trunk of the tree that wound down to the forest floor. Taking these, they joined other elves on their way to the center of the village.

  In the center of the village, a colossal tree stretched taller than all the others around it. The chief and elder council had arrayed themselves in front of it on a raised platform. Green flames burned on torches surrounding the gathering and made it bright as day. The leadership of Woodhaven wore elaborate costumes with headdresses that had expansive, pointed antlers. On either side, elves beat large hide drums. The sound reverberated through the village, summoning the others to the Reaping. The deep pounding of the drums sounded like a communal heartbeat. It vibrated through the massed elves and overrided any attempt or desire to communicate. There was a solemn, religious feeling to the ritual.

  At once, the drums stopped, and the Guardians made their way through the crowd to stand in front of the raised platform, their backs to the council. The Reaping had been carried out every year, and the Guardians had mostly remained the same for the last decade. There was no need to practice what they had all done many times before.

  The chief, Sumnu Stonebringer, checked to make sure all of the Guardians were present, and then addressed the waiting elves.

  “Tonight is the Reaping.” he said dramatically. “But this Reaping is different than all the others,” he continued. “The council have been foretold that this Reaping would change the future of the wood elves of the Wyldwood, forever!”

  The assembled elves began to speak to one another in a muted buzz. This hadn’t been a normal part of the ceremony. Merus met his wife’s eyes, and she had concern etched into her face. The Reaping was a dangerous affair in and of itself, this new element didn’t make her feel any more secure. The elves on the drums banged their instruments simultaneously in a three-beat staccato rhythm, and the crowd resumed their silence.

  Noting their silence, Sumnu continued. “Silvys has informed the council that the time of the forest has passed. Tonight, we will learn the true meaning of Guardians.” Many of the elves cried out in confusion, but the chief waved them to silence. “We do not know more than that. We will discover the truth at sunrise one day hence.” He said sternly. This hushed the citizens of Woodhaven, but there were shared looks of fear and confusion among them.

  Chief Sumnu now addressed the gathered Guardians. “Guardians, you have carried a great burden for this village, and now you must carry one more. You must complete this Reaping to the best of your individual abilities. Silvys has neglected to tell us any details, but we know that your actions this evening will guide our village on a different path forever.” He paused and allowed his voice to lower. “Accept this burden with the same magnanimity that you always have, and you will be successful. The forest provides.” He said with a sense of finality.

  With his last words, the Guardians began sprinting in different directions. They all knew that putting distance between themselves and their fellow Guardians gave them a better chance of surviving. It was one thing to want to kill one’s rivals, but it was quite a different thing to track them through the Wyldwood at night when they knew you would be coming. Bravery and stupidity were close cousins, and sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between the two.

  Chapter 4: The Forest Provides

  Jon quickly found a fallen log nearby and nestled his body underneath like an actual snake. He idly wondered what his daughter, Autumn, was doing back on Earth. He wasn’t sure if she would have been intrigued by this game-like world or horrified. He doubted she could have acclimated as quickly as he did. She didn’t possess his calculating practicality toward life. She was more like her mother in that regard. She was supportive and understanding. Often, more than he deserved when he missed dance recitals or didn’t show up to parent-teacher conferences.

  He felt a sense of loss, and immediately urged himself to ruthlessly squash it with vigorous intensity. He couldn’t allow thoughts of his family to distract him. Still, he wondered what she would think of the build he was trying to develop.

  He was slightly concerned that he was focusing too much on offensive abilities. He had seen the result of lopsided force projection in combat, and he saw parallels in his own build. If a unit was too specialized, they often found themselves at the mercy of more flexible forces with a better composition. He focused much of his energy on developing his senses and bioweapons, and while it had been effective thus far, that didn’t mean it would continue to do so.

  Jon knew he couldn’t be perfect, that was an ever-moving target, but the pursuit of perfection often put one ahead of those that weren’t. He had limited knowledge and couldn’t foresee every type of conflict he would be exposed to. In the meantime, Jon needed to plan his development in such a way that he left himself multiple options to attack, defend, and if necessary, withdraw to a better strategic position. If he could get past this initial animal survival phase, and make it to civilization, that’s where his abilities were genuinely effective.

  What made him unique were his abilities as a generalist. He rarely worked
alone. He could be dropped into a complicated situation, simplify it to a level that he could understand, and put the right people in the right places to take advantage of their own affinities. He didn’t believe in the trite philosophy of trying to bring out the best in people. Why fight against a current when he could guide the river to where it was best suited? Managed self-interest was the most effective management tool. It removed the emotion and inefficiency from a system and channeled effort in a way that was mutually beneficial to everyone.