Lord of Nature

A burst of emerald light exploded before Cyrus's eyes as the ground beneath him erupted. Chunks of dirt and stone clouded the air as thick knotted roots rose from the soil, and whipped towards the boar. 

The beast balked, hooves dragging through the mud as it veered away. It squealed as the roots latched onto its hind legs, yanking it down into the dirt. Thrashing and biting, the boar fought back as the plants twisted around its body, tightening their hold. 

Cyrus's shoulders trembled as the boar writhed in the dirt, its body twitching as the roots worked their way around its neck. With each passing second, his strength waned, drawn from his body and into the plants around him. 

'What's happening? Cyrus wondered. He pushed against the tree's trunk, but his arms gave out, dropping him into the mud. The taste of dirt and blood swirled around his mouth, and his vision blurred and darkened. 

As the last bit of light faded, a loud crack rang through the air, and the boar slumped to the ground. It black eyes, void of any life, stared blankly back at him, while the forest fell still around them. 

…

A ceiling of rippling stone covered the sky when Cyrus opened his eyes, draped in beards of thick moss and patches of lichen. A gust of wind whistled past the entrance, while droplets of water dripped from the ceiling, splashing into small puddles across the cave floor. 

Cyrus winced as he pushed himself upright, and glanced around the cave. Berrodin sat across from him, his mouth set in a firm line. Dark circles hung beneath his sunken eyes, and blood dyed his torn trousers. A ray of sunlight revealed a deep gash running across his leg, layered with grey skin.

"Are you alright?" Cyrus asked. He reached forward, but Berrodin pulled back with a scowl. Frowning, he dropped his hand, and glanced towards the cave entrance. "What happened? My memory is a bit fuzzy after we started running from the boar."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Berrodin asked, wincing as he stood. His voice was hoarse, and his body trembled as he staggered towards the entrance. "Do you believe you can feign your way out of this with a lie? When it's this clear what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Cyrus asked. He made his way to the entrance, and brushed the roots and moss to the side. A clod of dirt bounced off his shoulder as he stepped outside, but he barely noticed. "Gods above."

The forest resembled a battlefield, stained in black blood, while deep ruts carved through the dirt. Brambles and bushes lay flattened, trampled beneath broken hoofprints, while jagged stumps and splintered branches cluttered their surroundings.

Even the old maple tree teetered forward, its branches swaying in the late summer wind. The corpse of the Belrune boar laid at its base, its twisted body petrified by a layer of black stone. A cloak of knotted roots still twisted around the beast, digging under its skin, and lining the insides of its maw as they swirled down its throat. A foul stench rose from the depths of the beast, worse than rotting meat.

Cyrus covered his mouth, fighting back the rising bile. 'Did… I do this?' 

He winced as the memories from the night swirled through his mind, until at last, he recalled the woman's voice, echoing in his ears.

"Do you see what I mean, now?" Berrodin asked, limping around him. "I'd have to be blind not to recognize magic when it's this obvious. Tell me, Cyrus, did you actually lose your memories after being lost at sea, or is there something more going on here?"

Cyrus glanced down at his shaking hands, stained with dirt and grass. "I- I swear it's the truth. As far as I know, I've never learned how to use magic. I don't know how I did this."

"So you say…," Berrodin said. He broke into a fit of coughs, and black blood dribbled down his chin. Cyrus moved to help him, but the old man waved him away. "Stay back. I don't need any help from a bloody warlock."

Cyrus stepped back. "I- I'm sorry. But if we don't do something soon, I fear you won't last long. At least let me help get you to an alchemist."

Berrodin wiped his mouth off with the hem of his sleeve as he stared hard at the ground. After a minute, he staggered over to a boulder, and slumped against it. "Very well… I doubt I'll get very far without you, so I guess there's no reason to chase you away. If you want to help, then why don't you first go retrieve our supplies from the wagon. I kept the water skins, and some food in a pack beneath my seat."

"Alright." As Cyrus slipped iff through the trees, Berrodin fell into another fit of coughs, his face growing pale. 

Cyrus sped up, picking his way back through the forest. Overhead, squirrels chattered from the branches, while chipmunks and rabbits scurried away, hiding themselves in the surrounding brush. Doing his best not to get turned around, he eventually stumbled back onto the road, where the remnants of the wagon lay scattered in the mud.

'At least it looks like most of his wares are still in good condition,'  Cyrus thought, scanning the mess of crates and boxes. He spotted the supply pack across the road, beside the petrified corpse of the smaller boar. 

As he picked the pouch up, he noticed that the grass and weeds around the boar's corpse were wilted, and more grey than green. Frowning, he kicked a pebble over, his eyes narrowing as it kicked up a cloud of dust. 

'What kind of foul magic could cause this?' Cyrus thought, backing away. As he turned, a twig snapped behind the bushes, causing his body to go rigid. His heart pounded as he watched the leaves spread, and the grey head of a donkey poked through.

"Gods above, Starvhost, you nearly scared me to death," Cyrus said, relaxing. The old donkey eyed him for a second, then returned to munching on the leaves. 

Shaking his head, Cyrus approached the donkey, and unraveled his reins, before dragging him out of the bushes. Some time during the night, the wagon shaft had broken off, leaving only a frayed rope behind. He tied the pack to it, then checked the donkey for any wounds.

Fortunately, the creature appeared free of injury, so Cyrus rubbed his head, before grabbing the tattered tarp, and returning to Berrodin. The old man peeked through slitted eyes as they approached, before they shot open, and he jolted to his feet. 

"You managed to find Starvhost? How? Where was he?"

"Near the wagon, tangled in a bush," Cyrus said, leading the donkey over. "I thought we could make you a makeshift saddle with this tarp. It should help quicken our journey to Galeden."

Berrodin gave him a slight nod as he hobbled over to rub Starvhost's nose. "Thank you, Cyrus. You don't know what this means to me."

"Don't mention it," Cyrus said. He pulled out one of the waterskins, and passed it to Berrodin. "I also checked the condition of your wares. It seems most can be salvaged, if you get back here before someone else finds it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Berrodin said. He drank from the waterskin, then wiped his lips. Setting it down, he glanced at Cyrus. "I want to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to lash out at you."

"I understand," Cyrus said. He scanned the overturned forest floor. "This is a lot for me to take in as well. Another addition to the list of things about my past I'll need to learn."

"I advise you to keep this one secret from others, though. Not only is the use of magic forbidden, but those who are caught using it are hunted down by the Dilthanes."

"Who are the Dilthanes?" Cyrus asked. He folded the tarp, and draped it over the donkey's back, using the loose rope to fasten it down. 

"They're a group of people who worship Dilthane, the goddess of sacrifice," Berrodin said. He made his way over to Starvhost, and used Cyrus's hands as a hold to climb onto the donkey's back. "To me, they're no more than a cult, but their influence has spread widely within the past year, with more believers every year. If they catch onto you, they'll stop at nothing to hunt you down."

Cyrus hoisted the pack of supplies over his shoulder. "I'll have to stay on my guard then."