Straydog Saga

Flea 20: Spirits in the Material World

Keesha couldn't shake the mild hurt and annoyance bubbling through her like a poorly heated cauldron. She was supposed to meet Han before her lessons that day for breakfast but the minutes passed and the priest was no where to be found. She was forced to leave the restaurant with only a small cup of orange juice and indignant bile to get her through her lesson. The night before seemed so nice, his sentiment seemed so real. Keesha roughly sighed as she made her way to the portals and desperately tried to focus on the lesson ahead. The sadness and insecurity swirling in her chest would surely get her killed if she let the maelstrom within get the better of her. Keesha found herself at the door to her classroom, her hand hovering over the door-rune as her heart and stomach began to settle. When her eyes showed no sign of emotion she allowed the door to open. The roots creaked upright, as if waking up from a long nap, and shook the sand from their sharp tips.

"Mornin' boys." Keesha grunted, taking her pitch black cloak and placing it on the ground. Her eyes were fully focused on the dancing roots, which twisted and swayed, in preparation for their terminal tango. More roots came alive as Keesha readied herself and a conflagration spell. When the roots shot forward to strike, Keesha nimbly leaped to the side while holding her stance and firing her spell towards her attackers. The flames were so hot they did not burn the root, but rather melted it, any water within instantly turning to steam. Another came and fell prey to her terrible heat. She felt dark anger fill her mind as she decided to tone things back a bit with a shadowy curse. The roots afflicted with the spell felt bits of their wooden flesh melt away before falling to the sandy floor in spongy pieces. Keesha sneered at what would have easily overtaken her back when she first began her lessons under Nightgaze. But the library at her fingertips and the elder's sparse but practical lessons amplified her abilities to the point where her enemies seemed like paper targets. But as she cut, burned, and tore through the roots something gnawed at the back of her consciousness. Though she culled the crowd of wooden assailants with ease, they simply grew back and kept coming. Soon her mortal body would tire and they would still continue their infinite assault, as they did every lesson.

"What am I missing?" She grunted as she immolated another stabbing root. She could feel small beads of sweat forming on her forehead. The magnitude of the spells caused her stamina and concentration to wane. But the roots seemed to constantly replenish and Keesha quickly found she could barely keep up. Day in and day out it was always the same, no matter how talented she became at her art or how powerfully her spells struck. The roots seemed endless, her efforts futile. She had nearly forgotten the puzzle that was supposed to be a clue as she decided the path of power would surely be the one to defeat the imposing creatures. A root managed to catch her in the shoulder again, and again she heard a voice in her keen ear. She tried, as she always did, to push back the sound but when another root struck her arm, she heard it again. The words barely formed when her eyes went wide. She knew the horrible man that produced the sound and she knew where he dwelled. She shook her head and managed to avoid another strike to the arm. Her heart and mind raced as she actually allowed another root to come close and nick her thigh. There were two voices then, a woman's voice joined the man's. Keesha's blood ran cold. Her mind thought as fast as it could while her body began moving just in range of the root's slashing attacks, only enough to receive more information. She heard a seductive tone of yet another voice, one she knew very well. She began to think about all that had happened since she came to the tree. Keesha thought about Han's strange encounters with the branches and his descriptions of his visions. Were the voices she heard, the shades of memory coming to her through the roots as they did for Han and his branches? She recalled the words to Nightgaze's puzzle once more in her head and with a snap in her mind she found bitter laughter escaping her smiling lips. She dodged another attack as a small seed began to grow into a bold thought. Keesha planted her feet firmly into the sand and made no attempt to move as one giant root was poised to impale her through the stomach. Her vision went blank, her mind white. As the wooden weapon punched through her abdomen, nothing came out the other side. Instead the large appendage splintered into thousands of tiny tendrils within the student. As the strange root made its way into her mind, the blank stare began to find shadows and shapes forming.

With a loud snap, Keesha found herself, or rather a grayish image of herself, standing in a vast forest. She looked to her stomach for a wound but found the unstained fabric of her usual uniform. The trees themselves seemed drained of vitality as limp gray grass hung in the lack-luster wind. She walked along a rough dirt road that was punctuated by small patches of cobblestone. She came to a figure lying, muddy and cold, in a small ditch. She stopped her progression and resisted the urge to look away. The young woman was dressed in blood-spattered rags. The stains themselves were dried and rust colored. She lay there, not fully awake or aware of her surroundings as flashes of memory caused slight whimpers to escape her dry, cracked lips. Keesha watched as a small, pony drawn cart came up the road. It was driven by an elderly human woman while her two adult children sat in the back with their wares. The pony drawn cart stopped as the humorless old woman turned to look at the girl with a sneer.

"Mother, why have we stopped?" The old woman's daughter huffed as she stood to see what caused their delay. The icy blue eyes spied what appeared to be a dirty, living clump of filth on the side of the road. No concern or compassion seemed to dwell in them. "What is that?"

"A girl, apparently." The old woman smiled a sick and toothless grin as she placed the reins down and moved from her perch. She hobbled to where the young girl lay and nudged her with her fine-shoed foot. The action seemed to snap the dark-skinned girl back into reality as she looked to the elder with tear-stained brown eyes. "What has happened child?" It took the girl a moment to speak but few words of consequence came. She could not bear to relive the shattering of her world, the death of her father, or the culling of her beloved home. Instead, the best she could muster was a shaky "I can't remember…" The old women lifted her brow but kept her eye on the girl. Though she seemed shaken, but she seemed well fed and her frame looked sturdy enough. A sly smile crept onto her wrinkled face.

"I am Lady Ester, seller of fine magical relics. You like magic, child?" Ester asked. The answer she received was a conscious nod. "I could use as assistant. In exchange for a little help here and there, I will keep you in food and clothing. Does that sound reasonable?" Ester asked, forcing her voice to sound a shade of gentle she did not seem accustomed to. But the tone was enough to convince the girl that it was the best decision she could make. Keesha shook her head and called to the teenage girl but no attempted warning seemed to be heard. The old woman called to her children, Jasmine and Yasir, to help the teenager into the back of the cart and the scene began to fade. Keesha found herself in a dusty basement she hoped never to see again. There, a year older, the girl labored. She was clothed in tired dresses that were no longer suitable for the fashion-conscious Jasmine. While the teen's figure spoke of decent meals, her once soft hands were growing hard from laboring chores. While Ester and her children enjoyed some rest in their relic dealing shop, all of the servant-level tasks for both shop and home were passed onto their young ward. The few moments that were spared for sleep were shared with rodents and roaches in the tiny storage cellar below the shop. The thread-bare cot was soft but started to stink from improper care. But all these hardships were nothing in her mind as the sun began to sink. When the light dipped over the horizon, he would come. It had started only a few weeks after her arrival at the shop, but once the blood and dirt was cleaned from her frame, the young woman caught the wandering eye of Yasir. She shook a little in the cold night air, hoping he would forget, hoping he had something to do that night that would keep him away from the cellar door. But that night, like many nights before, she heard the doorknob click. She winced as small, fear-filled tears began to fall. All the while, the warlock strained not to look away. The young victim felt every bone in her adult body begin to tremble. Her eyes and cheeks became wet as a sinister light entered the scene. The flickering lantern came with the sound of soft boots slowly descending a dilapidated old wooden staircase. As coal black, shark-like eyes fixed on the young woman, the scene mercifully went gray. The light of dawn returned to the dusty cellar to shine upon the sweat-soaked body of the young woman as she helped haul crates filled with new items into the corner of the room. She set one of the heavy boxes down and wiped her brow.

"Keesha, these boxes will NOT move themselves!" Jasmine called from the top of the staircase with a huff.

"Coming!" The young Keesha breathlessly spoke as she prepared to retrieve another box with more haste. She did her best to move the next few boxes in time with Jasmine's tapping foot but nearly stumbled down the steps as a box flew freely to the landing.

"You better not break anything." Jasmine sighed, eyeing her well kept manicure. Young Keesha ran to the bottom of the steps to see the box slightly cracked, but the leather tomes within seemed fine. As she lifted the crate, a small black book fell to her feet. She placed the crate down with the others before picking it up. The book was unnaturally cool to the touch and seemed to implore the innocent girl to explore its depths. As she cracked the well worn spine, she found that the language was old but not unreadable. Another call, this time from Ester caused her to snap the book shut and stash the tiny tome in her dusty cot. She ran up the steps once more to her mistress's call as the room began to swirl and fade again. The current Keesha remembered the dark night that came into view well. It was one the younger self actually anticipated. The golden rule of what became her most cherished companion caressed her mind like a loving mother's hand. The secrets that seemed to be just for her offered an escape far more potent than the key her father kept. That very key that led to her escape from the culling and landed her in the very depths of hell itself. But in hell, there were demons, demons willing to submit themselves to a master's will, for a price. The price was so easily paid that a shard of broken glass or wire could provide what the creatures craved. The summoning runes scrawled within the black book looked as if they were drawn by children, but the young Keesha could feel their strength. She cut the palm of her hand and drew the simple rune on the wall with her own blood and with a chanted spell, the drawing began to glow a sickening purple. The sun was setting and young Keesha's guest of honor would arrive just in time for her pet to arrive. The young girl knew better than to show any weakness. According to her book, doing so would ensure her own death. She coolly smiled as something emerged from her efforts. The sight and smell of the beast were enough to make even the most seasoned warriors wretch. With a numb resolve and a quick tongue, young Keesha fully bound the beast in one final locking spell. The beast moaned, unable to speak, but young Keesha quickly quieted it.

"Soon, your services will be paid for." She whispered as the last ray of light fled the scene. Her smile widened as the sinister light returned from the top of the staircase. But when Yasir turned to gaze upon his nightly victim he found something else lurking in the darkness. The faint lantern light revealed a repulsive beast; it was mostly human looking in the chest but it was impossibly large and had to bend over in the mortal made cellar. Bloodied rags were draped around its massive legs and its head was completely obscured by a massive metal structure resembling a pyramid. It wielded a massive blade, which seemed to eternally drip with the blood of a thousand deserving wretches. The young Keesha stood, and with a cool smile, offered the terrible demon his payment. Just as the beast's blade came down on the screaming man, a bright flash of light took the adult Keesha to another place. She was surrounded by swirling colors, an implied floor created there for her own mind's comfort. She knelt under the weight of her memories.

"Why do I have to see all this again? What good does it do?" She asked not expecting an answer. When a voice came to offer a response she felt her heart leap.

"Think." It said, a little more than an echo in her aching mind. She had figured out part of the mystery. The roots, like the branches, gave visions. While Han's seemed to focus on the lives of others, the roots only offered Keesha a bleak review of her own past. She was not offered any happy moments with her parents, or her moment of vengeful triumph over the tyranny of the lich king. The dark memories were a turning point in her life when Keesha the merchant's daughter and pure victim became the vengeful warlock.

"These memories, they're the worst parts of my life." She sighed, heart skipping a beat a little as the echoing voice grumbled for her to continue the thought. Her mind went quiet as something took root. She mulled the little thought as it began to grow. It shifted to the puzzle Lord Nightgaze provided and began to quietly whisper it to herself. "What tears apart a bright new start and pulls us to the lifeless dark? That haunts our steps with stark regrets, never missing the mark? And from it flee, never do we, escape its senseless spark. But in the face of dim disgrace, one must find the start…" Her eyes seemed to search through the spoken words as the spirit that dwelled with her did its best to stay silent in its anticipation. Then at once it came like a rush of cool water crashing against a heated face.

"The past. That's the answer, isn't it?" She looked around for some tangible body to the voice but when she found none continued her thought out loud. "The past can hold you back, maybe even kill you if you let it. It can haunt you and it's always going to hit you hard, so it "never misses the mark." No matter how hard you try to forget it all happened, it DID happen. So you can't escape it. And…and…that last line still sucks." She took a moment and laughed before stating the final thought with a smile. "You can't move on from the terrible things you lived through if you try to forget it all without dealing with it. Is that it?" She called, triumph in her heart and a glorious energy coursing through her being. The colors suddenly stopped, as if frozen and drained away into blackness. Keesha turned to see what loosely resembled a cloud of golden light. The cloud had a mortal face made of light and smoke but very little else in the way of features. Keesha slowly approached the beaming face as it deeply chuckled to itself.

"You understand now. Congratulations, Keesha Hazzad" It rumbled in a calm, earthy tone. It smiled as Keesha's hands went to her hips and a mildly annoyed look came to her face.

"Err, thanks but who are you and where the hell am I?" Keesha asked. The strange spirit seemed to wince as some of its cloudy form seemed to dissipate. It pulled the spirit-matter in and did its best to reply.

"Me? I am nothing more than a remnant the tree keeps. Someday I hope to be more than what I am but for now, I am nothing more than what you see. My fellow remnants and spirits call me "Net." We are in another world within the physical plane, a place only reached through Mydrassil's will. It is hard to explain but you have earned some answers, young mortal. I will do my best to answer." It rumbled. Keesha ordered her questions and, as calmly as she was able began her interrogation of the remnant.

"First of all, the roots are why I'm here, right? I get the visions and stuff but why would they take me here?"

"You are here because if your cleverness and indomitable spirit. It is in the roots' and branches' design to provide insight to the worthy and create a space for the talented to become the most they can be. Fed on potent magical waters, the tree grew into a strange being. It became apparent to those that nurtured it from seed that Mydrassil had its own intelligence when the Naga began their attacks and quickly found themselves defeated, not by scores of mortals but armies of roots and razor-leaves. You are special, as is your mate, for the roots have not torn you asunder and the branches have not driven him to madness."

"M-My mate? Spirit, please! I kissed the guy once and he ditches me the next day. What makes you think I'm keepin' his vanilla-elf ass?" Keesha blushed and crossed her arms with heated bravado, but the smiling fragment of a spirit did not seem convinced that his statement was false. "Anyway, so if the roots kill and the branches make you crazy then why are we so special?" Keesha asked with a raised brow.

"The Steward and The Archmage chose you both for these trials. You both have succeeded when many others have failed before you. They saw qualities in you that would lend you both well to the magic of Mydrassil. If you wish to know more about that, you must confront the Archmage, for he is your guide in all this." The spirit bowed its cloudy face in apology.

"So wait this, this was all planned out? How do you know?"

"I am afraid so. Please do not be angry, Lady Hazzad. They had to be sure that you and the other one were strong enough in mind, heart, and spirit to survive the trials. I do not agree with their methods, but the results are far beyond what this old remnant has seen before. And I know all this because, frankly, spirits tend to be nosey when it comes to matters in the material world." Net informed with what looked like a strong attempt at a warm smile.

"So what was the damn point of all this?"

"That is a question for the Archmage." Net bowed. "Our time grows short…" Net whispered as Keesha felt herself pulled backwards. In a rush, blackness filled her vision and when she opened her eyes again she found herself back on the sandy floor of her lesson room. While there was no blood or evidence of her physical trauma, she felt the cold air in the room bathe her naked form. She sat up and clutched herself, shivering a little as something even more strange caught her attention. The same golden runes that appeared on Hanariel's body were mirrored on hers. Before she had time to contemplate their appearance the sound of a pair of hands slowly clapping caused her to turn to the door. From the darkness, Seth Nightgaze emerged, a satisfied smile on his face.

"It is about time." He smirked and tossed the human a black robe to cover herself with. He turned to grant her a moment of privacy before he felt a strong grip on his arm. He turned with a questioning eyebrow raised as the glowing eye pattern on Keesha's forehead glared as brightly as his own working orbs.

"We need to talk…"

"What is happening to me?" Han asked, heart speeding in his chest while the cool expression on Lady Whitedeer's face did nothing to slow the steady pounding within. She motioned for him to sit on one of the plush, white-leather couches but his legs did not bend. Han pulled off his hood to reveal the strange runes and did his best to straighten his arm so that his long sleeve would fall and reveal the patterns on his hand and the rest of his appendage. Orifiel nodded and took a step towards him. She gently gripped his hand with both of hers and pulled it down to chest level. She closed her eyes and the strange eye pattern on his palm began to pulsate.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh. Relax." She whispered as her twin orbs seemed to rush beneath their lids. She placed his arm at his side before placing two fingers on the center of Han's forehead. The eye mark there grew bright for a moment but dimmed when the night elf moved her hand.

"I see."

"What do you see? What's going on?" Han rasped as a smile came to the steward's face. She stroked her chin for a moment before casting the bewildered looking elf a satisfied look.

"You passed."

"I wha- am I missing something?" He asked, eyes wide and desperate confusion shining through his words.

"Sit down. I'll get you a glass of water and explain." Orifiel nodded, turning to leave the room for a moment and fetch her guest a small glass of water while he did as he was told. A moment later the steward returned with a glass of water, a small cup of tea and an extra glass in case Hanariel needed a more potent drink. "Now then…I regret not being able to prepare you better for this but secrecy was key in assuring you had the best chance of passing a little trial I set up. If you had known you were being tested, it might have colored your perceptions and thus, led you down the wrong path."

"Ok wait, what's this test and why were you testing me in the first place? Lady Windrunner said I was coming here on leave to try and get myself together. Was she aware of this?"

"Oh yes, she was most cooperative." Orifiel said with a deadpan expression as she moved to take a sip of her cocoanut black tea. "Han, think back, do you remember anything about the day you lost your arm. What were you told when you came to?"

"I-I don't remember much. Just a terrible pain and then everything went black. The medics told me the light preserved me long enough for them to reach me…why?"

"The light had nothing to do with your survival Hanariel. I am not speaking ill of your calling, the light certainly helped you get this far, but there was another power at work. At least I thought that was the case when I heard about your story. I wanted to test you and see if you were truly one who would be receptive to Mydrassil and by the look of it, Mydrassil has claimed you as one of its champions." Orifiel smiled at the look of shock and bewilderment on the priest's face. Such a thought, that the light was not the driving force behind his survival made his thoughts drop and mind reel.

"If it was not the light that saved me, then what?"

"That's not something I can tell you, but I'm sure Mydrassil will be able to give you the answers you need. You've been marked by Mydrassil which means with these runes, you are in control of your visions, can gleam the memories of others, and can even command some parts of the tree itself. Ask it to reveal the truth and I'm certain it will." Orifiel nodded as Han took a sip of his water, eyes never leaving hers. He searched for any hint of sinister intent but her tone and aura gave him no clues, no inkling of her true intentions.

"But, why me? I don't see any marks on you."

"I am called the steward of the tree for a reason. While I raised it from a seed, there has always been a barrier between us. I have my theories as to why that is but that is for another time. I've been searching for someone to claim the title of High Mystic of the White Branch. I think, in time, you will be that someone if you accept the task." Orifiel spoke, voice quiet and somewhat pleading. Hanariel felt his heart slow and his shoulder grow lax. He felt a slight pang within as a small, sad hope filled her beautiful pale eyes.

"There's too much about this I need to figure out first." Han whispered, mind starting to race. The events of the last few days seemed to be happening so fast, like a filled balloon finally bursting. The words "High Mystic" seemed like sweat honey to his usually mediocre hearing but the swirling chaos and the strange rush kept him from savoring the thought for long.

"Of course. You can call the branches to you anywhere in the upper bough anytime you wish. You don't need the safe room anymore." Orifiel informed, draining the remainder of her tea. Hanariel stood, leaving his water untouched, and excused himself. Orifiel smiled at his retreating back. Hope seemed to radiate from the very core of her spirit as the visions she'd gleamed from the runes danced about her mind like visual medicine.