Chapter 9.

  The Name of Nothing

  Theodren blinked the ceiling into view. He shifted in the too small bed expecting his usual stiffness. When none came his brow rose. There were few constants in life, but the stiffness of his neck after a night in the cramped bed of his equally small chambers was one of them. He sat up rolling his neck. “Huh.” The sentiment encapsulated the whole of his confusion, relief and surprise at how well he felt.

  Coming to his feet he bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling the lightness of a body he remembered having in a prime now past. He knew the source of the change. Turning his mind inward, he watched the Vitae circulating through his veins. Tracking its path he saw it depositing vitae into the cells of his body. Tiny fireworks of green energy exploded within every fiber, filling him to the brim with life.

  He whistled a tune he couldn’t quite place as he splashed water from the basin over his face. Theodren pulled the collar of his robes to his nose, wrinkling at the acrid sweat born of the fear and desperation of the day prior.

  Pulling the rough cloth over his head, he stood before the small piece of polished bronze above his basin. The four puffy lines that scarred his chest were faded. The evidence of the wound was still there, but it was no longer the unseemly puckered scar it was the night prior.

  What more surprised him was the Caduceus symbol emblazoned on his chest above his heart. He idly traced the new symbol Yggdrazil had placed on him with his finger while his eyes wandered to the rest of him.

  His skin felt more firm, pulled taut over his frame of muscles that had grown inexplicably while he’d slept. He groaned, coming to the realization that he would need to buy larger clothing again. Theodren rifled through his wardrobe searching for anything that might fit him. Digging deep into the forgotten parts of his wardrobe, he fished an oversized working tunic and pants. Well made but simple, they lacked any adornment to speak of but that suited him fine.

  Inspecting himself in the mirror, he was reminded of the presence of his new helper. The vineling was nestled tightly against his right bicep. Wrapping itself against his arm, he poked it with an inquisitive finger until it sleepily crawled up his arm until it was hidden beneath his sleeve. He puzzled at it for a moment but eventually decided not to bother with it.

  Running a hand through his hair he stepped out of his quarters and froze. Sitting atop the altar he prayed at every day, the thread and needle symbol of the Weaver seemed to stare at him accusingly.

  He found that he believed Yggdrazil’s account. How could he not? She was living proof that there were other gods.

  More damning to him than the sacrilege was his failure to live up to his oaths he had made as a fledgling priest. He had sworn to serve Odrain, he had sworn to preserve order in his community. Moving away from the place of prayer that was once his morning ritual, he shuffled toward the door.

  The word fraud loomed in his mind as he shielded his eyes from the intense morning sunlight. As the world came into focus he was treated to a wondrous sunrise that succeeded in lifting his spirits. Rolling grey clouds menaced a horizon gripped in the red fingers of dawn.

  There would be a storm later he knew but for now birds graced the sky and the air was crisp and fresh. He felt the loss of his previous path. Its simplicity and its certainty were things he would miss. However, he felt the vineling squeeze his arm reassuringly. He now had new tools with which to serve the town, if he could learn to use them.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He turned toward his forge and stopped, puzzled. It took only a moment before he noticed the change. The creeping vines that had only sparsely adorned the church now smothered it. From foundation to roof it was covered in a rich carpet of vines and leaves.

  “That’s going to take some doing.” He thought to himself, mentally planning the task of trimming the overgrowth. He shook himself from the strayed thought and continued his path to the forge. Taking a breath he eased open the door mentally preparing himself for speaking with the reality defying tree god. As he peered into the gloom of his workshop however, Yggdrazil was nowhere to be found. A quizzical sort of melancholy tickled at the back of his mind as he considered her absence.

  “YOU SEEK ME OUT?” The voice flowed through his mind like a river breaking free of a dam. It was a force both alien and primordial that threatened to wash his sense of self from his mind. He winced as his hand flew to the electric tingling of his caduceus. “Don’t DO that!” His heart beat a mile a minute beneath the mark on his chest. He felt Yggdrazil’s awareness settle on him like a blanket. “I apologize acolyte, you mortals are a fragile people.”

  His brows met in a furrow. “Acolyte?” He had not been an acolyte for some years and he was glad to be rid of the junior title. He sensed more than saw the grin forming from Yggdrazil’s consciousness. “You are yet untested and untrained are you not? Is that not why you seek me out?”

  It rankled his pride that she was right, but from the burning sensation in his chest he knew that his mind was an open book to the great Tree.

  He sighed, Yggdrazil seemed to take that as acknowledgement and continued. “You have given form to Vitae and created life.” He felt the vine perk up on his arm as she seemed to sense her presence in their conversation. “But know this. While life is yours to give and even to take. Death is a door you must never seek to open.”

  The warning chilled Theodren more than the spring morning air ever could. He shivered. “What does that mean?” “Death is my antithesis. Where it flows I can not tread. It is the end of the natural path of all life. Not even Odrain may alter it.”

  Theodren considered the warning. It was not one he was likely to test, but it did pique his curiosity. “Is death a part of the tapestry like you?” The tree shuddered.

  “No. Death could not be manipulated so it couldn’t be bound. It is the end of the tapestry. It is the absence of all things.” So there is a limit to this power, he thought to himself. His eyes turned back to the tree. “Does it have a name? Death I mean.”

  Yggdrazil pondered for a moment. “My memory of the time before the Great Tapestry is poor, but if death had a name it would have been…” The shadows seemed to grow darker and longer as the sun, still bright in the sky, grew cold. A chill spread over the back of Theodren’s neck like the cold and sinewy claws of a predator.

  Yggdrazil halted mid sentence. Theodren could tell by the stiffness of the god tree’s limbs that his discomfort was shared. “To speak her name is to summon her.” Yggdrazil whispered. Theodren was unnerved that a deity such as Yggdrazil could be so cowed by a name not even spoken. Though he sensed that beneath the fear was a quiet rage. A rage at an inevitable end that no defiance could overcome. He shivered.

  The sun's warmth returned to the mid spring morning. It took his artifact releasing the death grip he didn’t know she had on his arm to in turn make him relax as well. He waited patiently for the tree’s next words, expecting her instruction to continue. Sensing his attention, Yggdrazil’s branches lowered slightly.

  “Go. Your people need their priest and my power is not taught. Only experienced. You must find your own way to wield the Vitae you possess and I must retire from this plane for the moment.”

  Upon inspection Theodren noticed that Yggdrazil seemed a little less clear. The lines on her trunk seemed to blur like heat rising off of a road. As she faded from sight he resolved to ask her why she left the tapestry and where she went. His theories were many, each as unlikely as the last.

  He shook himself from his musings and refocused his efforts on ordering his tasks for the day. He would need to check on Eleina and the baby. There were a myriad of tasks and requests waiting for him at the village. Tempting as it might be to hide from the world and his responsibilities since his world view had been so thoroughly rocked, he knew that he was needed.

  In fact. He thought rubbing the stubble on his chin, his new Vitae would help tremendously in the course of his duties. As he made his way back to the church his mind returned to the unnerving sensation of impending doom that had invaded his conversation with Yggdrazil.

  He supposed that if there was a god of life that it stood to reason that there was a god of death as well. He shuddered. “I hope to never meet you.” He whispered to nothing in particular.

  Just beyond his view. Shrouded in mystery and shadow. Nothing… smirked.