Chapter 281: Burnt Salad

Chapter 281: Burnt Salad

You wish to become one of us? asked the druid. His eyes sparkled with hot anticipation. Apparently Id stumbled onto the magic password.

Yes. Sure. Ive always been a big fan of nature and, you know, trees. I hadnt really thought this through, but how hard could it be to convince a buffoon you thought his beliefs were brilliant? You think so too, right?

I passed the ball to Dudley and Maurice.

Definitely, said Maurice. Trees are a vital part of the ecosystem. The most vital.

Yes, theyre absolutely smashing, said Dudley.

See? We all believe in preserving the environment for, you know, future use.

The druid might have sensed a degree of insincerity in my voice, subtle as it was. Are you just saying that so you can meet Xesar?

No, I said firmly. Arent we all one under the soil?

His eyes lit up again. Yes, yes we are.

I was borrowing the phrase from Joshayas forest. It seemed appropriate for the current situation, although it did give me pause for thought. The druids had expressed some animosity towards Joshaya when Id mentioned him. They seemed to consider him an enemy of the gods they followed, and in some way the cause of their decline. Possibly even their deaths. So why was this druid so easily won over by something one of Joshayas follower had said?

I may have been overthinking it. The three major religions back home were virtually identical, and they still managed to hate each others guts, so why not the religious nutters here, too? Maybe self-loathing wasnt just universal, it was trans-dimensional, too.

How do I get my robe? I suppose I have to shave my head. It wasnt that big a deal the rate my hair grew at, but it might be a bit tricky growing the full beard. I verged on giving myself a hernia just trying to squeeze out a patchy goatee.

You must convert, said the druid. You must give up the ways of the flesh, and become one with the land.

Sounds good. So, a bit of baptism and then tea and biscuits to celebrate, something like that, is it?

The druid looked at me like he didnt think I was treating the matter with the respect it deserved. It is no easy matter to discard your flesh.

The way he said it, I started to think he might not be talking in metaphors.

I have to become a plant? I asked him.

We are not plants. He waved his arms about. Do I look like a vegetable?

I had a number of devastating responses ready to unload on him, but I decided now wasnt the time.

Im trying to understand what you mean when you say I have to convert. I dont know your secret ways. Convert into what?

You must merge yourself with the land, the soil, root yourself within the dirt. His eyes were closed and a calmness descended on his face. I guess gardening relaxes some people.

And thats it? It didnt sound so bad.

It is not as easy as you think. A true druid must allow his very being to mingle with the bugs and insects that crawl through the grass. You are no better than the worm who works diligently to pass mud through his digestive tract. And no worse. You must be humble. Are you humble?

Yes, I said. No ones more humble than me. Im the undisputed humble world champion.

He didnt look amused. You must discard pleasures of the flesh.

He kept saying that. It wasnt an appealing sentiment, literally or figuratively.

Okay, no fleshy pleasures. Should we get going? I was happy to agree with whatever he wanted. I had no intention of going through with this nonsense, I just wanted him to take us to the big boss.

Which could be dangerous, but if things went pear-shaped I was confident I could outrun a giant brain. They tend to have poor mobility, what with having no legs. Sure, you have to consider psychic powers. I know how sci-fi works. A large frontal lobe could mean anything from telekinesis to ESP. But I was untouchable. Even if he got his tentacles in me, I could remove them.

What about you? the druid asked Dudley and Maurice. You wish to convert?

Okay, said Maurice with minimal enthusiasm.

Ah, yes, I would be interested in further details, said Dudley with total lack of conviction.

Thats wonderful, said the druid, ignoring the wishy-washy responses. He seemed very happy to have snagged three new members for his gardening cult. Made me wonder if he worked on commission. If we go now, we should make it for the dawn service. Well have time to dig the purification pit if we hurry.

He was excited, I was mildly appalled, Dudley and Maurice were desperate. Everyone was working towards their strengths.

We left the inn and followed the druid across the city. It was the wee hours and only the occasional screeching cat broke the silence. I say cat, but it could have been gnome playing the bagpipes for all I knew.

It was dark, but lanterns in doorways provided us little pools of light to guide our way.

The druids name was Deteel. He told us our destination was a small church in the Quiet Quarter, which meant nothing to me. We hadnt had time to explore the city to any great extent.

Maurice had his notebook out and was making a rough map, in case we had to find our way back on our own. Although it might be tricky reading directions while being chased by enraged druids. Why would they be enraged? Id probably think of something.

Um, I, that is Deteel was so awkward and uncomfortable, I considered offering him a place in our party. They want to convert. I thought three new members would be nice. He was finding it hard to maintain his level of confidence under the intense glare of druid distrust.

Is this true? asked the druid in the pulpit.

Kind of. Were just browsing right now. I didnt really want to fully commit to being buried alive and fed twice a day via watering can. Arthur sent us, I said. They looked blankly at me. You know, Arta? There was a shift into half-hearted recognition. Remember how he said I was going to help you get your gods back? Thats why were here. We need to collect some information from you.

What kind of information?

Oh, general stuff. I was trying to pivot from full-bore blagging it, to extracting vital info. It was a bit of wrench. Which god do you want back first?

Cant you bring them all back? asked one of the druids in the back row.

No. One at a time is the best I can manage. Its not that easy resurrecting an entire pantheon. I had no idea how hard it was, but I assumed it would sound a plausible thing to claim.

We should bring back Unas the First, first, said pulpit guy. The room broke out into open squabbling, everyone voicing their opinion about who to bring back first.

If they did belong to a hive mind, it wasnt designed to operate a vast network in concert to fulfil a singular objective. It was more like someone had thrown a hive full of bees into a room and legged it.

Shouts of, Merrigum the Provider, and Purple Hark, rang out. Atlak! Atlak! insisted someone else, who was either another old god, or they were having a coughing fit.

They each had a favourite, and no one wanted to miss out on getting to see theirs at the All-Star game.

Excuse me, I said, trying to get their attention back. Hello? Can I suggest something?

No one was listening.

Quiet! bellowed Dudley. Id never heard him so loud before.

They all shut up and looked at him. He instantly turned beetroot red, which was probably a good thing. Made him more vegetable-friendly.

Why dont we ask Xesar? I suggested. My only goal was to get to their mysterious leader.

There was an awkward silence as the druids looked at each other.

He isnt here right now, said the guy in the pulpit. Were expecting him back anytime.

This wasnt good news. Dudley and Maurice were looking at me expectantly. What was I supposed to do? It wasnt my fault he wasnt here. How did a brain even move, let alone pop down the shops?

Where did he go? I asked.

Nowhere, said the druid. Hes still here. But not. You passed him on the way in.

I looked behind me at the door like he might be standing there. He wasnt. I turned back to the druids.

The tree? said Maurice. Is he the tree?

A sea of bald heads nodded.

I turned around and walked out. The tree on one side of the church didnt look like a brain. It didnt look like a floret of broccoli, either. What had Claire seen?

As I stood there staring at it, the others all came out of the church and gathered around me. We all examined the tree like some art exhibit, arms folded, scratching chins, tilting heads to one sidethe full range of gestures from the pretentious emoji set.

I walked closer to the tree and placed my hand on the truck. It was cold and wet. A bit slimy, too. There was a layer of something covering the bark.

A warmth spread across my palm, but it wasnt coming from me. I stepped back and the tree had a soft green glow to it. Leaves began sprouting on the branches. There were gasps behind me, but everyone was staying very still in case they missed something. An event was clearly occurring.

The boughs rapidly filled and I could see it, the brain shape. That was the trouble with seeing things from the perspective of others, you only saw what they saw, not what was really there.

Xesar? I said to the tree.

Eyes opened in the trunk. They had a familiar look to them. Hello, Colin.

I recognised the voice. The same as the one in the forest. Which raised a number of questions.

I want some answers, I said.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

Maybe yes, I said. Or have you forgotten what I can do with fire?

The tree didnt seem concerned. Normal flames wont harm me, and you no longer have your magic ab

My hand burst into flames. You were saying?