NOVEL NEXT Chapter 65
A grove.
Meadran had mentioned something about that before, right?
Now usually when one is speaking of a grove, it's a cluster of trees often older more developed specimens.
In this new context, it had to mean something else. It invoked images of people in robes in a clearing doing... something mystical looking. I think I've heard them in relation to the Gauls or Celts when the Romans were conquering them. They burned them if I'm recalling it right.
Why would they do that?
To destroy a symbol, perhaps. A symbol of what? Gods? Culture? Nature itself? I had no idea. I was never very interested in that period of history, other than, Romans, for all their faults, were very excellent engineers.
I also had the feeling that the Druids of those days and the Druids of Azeroth were only tangentially related.
But trees were involved I was sure of that, so who better to ask than a tree.
I didn't really want to bother Meadran, but maybe Faergin would be able to point me in the right direction.
One thing I loved about the Psifield is that with a little effort I could keep track of anyone and everyone within it's influence. I reached out with my mind through the warmth of the psi energy. There he was by the edge of the potato farm.
His mind was a bright beacon, yet he still hadn't quite developed the faculties to interact with the Psifield himself. So I went to him.
I hadn't seen him in over a week and he had grown so much. Where once he was roughly my height, now he was 15 feet. Still skinny though. His leaves had shifted into fiery oranges and yellows, they were very similar in shape to oak leaves.
His dance once a quick shuffle had morphed into a rhythmic swaying. Which he was doing now as he gazed out into the badlands north of New Lordaeron.
What did he see, or what was he searching for?
His eyes had started glowing a bright yellow, burning with the light of knowledge.
"Hey Faergin, how are you doing?"
While he couldn't as yet respond verbally, I could still sense a lot of his feeling and intent. Whether that was due to my abilities as a Druid, or some function of his own skills, I didn't know. Right now he was pensive and somewhat distraught. He found looking into the wastes but fascinating and dreadful, a feeling not dissimilar to ones I've had staring at graveyards.
"Yeah."
There was a resolve there as well. A sense of needing to face uncertainty.
"We'll clean this all up one day. I sure you'll be here to see it, even if I somehow am not around anymore." Oof, I was socked in the gut by my own reflective thoughts on mortality.
For some reason, Faergin found this hilarious. He shook all over as the area was flooded with the tingling of his laughter.
Then I had a flash of an image of old roots that couldn't be dislodged from the soil long after the tree itself had fallen. Was he implying, I was a stubborn ball of roots, or that I'd be here still long after him? Either way, an unsettling thought.
"I was wondering, do you know about groves?"
Buzzing excitement filled the air. A thousand forms flooded my mind. A sense of peace, of connection, of focus.
Too much. "Wait... calm down, please." Shifting through the ideas and patterns, after some struggle, I found a commonality. A set of trees arranged in a circle over something. Something powerful, something golden and flowing.
The only thing I knew of like that was maybe the leyline. It had started as a muddy brownish color, but as more life and mana returned to the valley it had shifted more toward a golden shade.
"So groves go over leylines?"
A feeling of incompleteness. There was more. The grove connected to the leylines, sure. But why? Power? Maybe, but the treefolk didn't seem all that interested in power. They saw it as a consequence of living, something naturally gained over time. No, there was an answer was in his feelings earlier, even if I was having a hard time seeing it. Then it snapped into focus.
"Connection."
He filled the area with a sense of approval.
Groves connected Druids to the Trees, the World, and to the concept of Nature itself. There was more, but it was too deep for me to see now.
This was a place to start, the rest I could figure out as I went. Now I just needed to figure out where to put it.
We had started to eliminate the need for disturbing the Valley. Other than trips to visit the company store, there was no longer a reason for anyone to go in there. I could communicate with Meadran and Alina from anywhere a certain distance. The Probes had built a series of tunnel connecting the are next to the Nexus straight to the entrance cave, so the new Sentries wouldn't disrupt the peace of the forest there. Small critters had started just appearing out of nowhere in there and I didn't want them bothered.
Also the mana density in the Valley was getting to a point where it could hurt folks without protection. I was fine, and Jaina, even Mr. Wick seemed to tolerate the higher levels of energy but the Nomads and folks summoned from Lordaeron quickly felt sick and even started having physical reactions if they didn't leave.
Better to make it off limits for now.
We had, about a week and a half ago, started a new Wisp grown forest to the south of town and it was already baring fruit. Even a new Treant had emerged from it.
He was more aggressive, and even had tusks. Meadran had said his name was Korvaith. He would grow into a Tree of War. It was bizarre at first watching a tree train with Raynor and his boys, but we all quickly adapted. I even made him his own custom rifle.
What, was I going to have him throw rocks? Not on my watch.
It was about time for some more farms, but first I wanted to knock out those outpost quests. It would be an excellent way to work with Mr. Wick and test Raynor and his boys. After all I don't want a repeat of the Arasaka incident.