NOVEL NEXT 63 – Taking Roots
Rhiannon stood at the edge of the clearing, her boots sinking into earth still sodden from days of rain. The smoke and damp still clung to her clothes, weighing her down further with the memory of Ruth's final scream, cut short by the Warden's indifferent beam. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt small and out of place.
The survivors had arranged themselves in a loose circle. The few humans kept close together at the periphery, careful to keep out of the way of their smaller but more numerous companions. The kobolds huddled in their familiar clusters. The Shy leading the discussions perched on podiums of stone and root, the pinpoints of their eyes reflecting depths of exhaustion and wary hope. Vazko stood slightly apart from his fellow Shy, his gaze flickering toward Menna with a frisson of unease.
Mara caught everyone's attention with a shrill whistle before speaking. "The fires are out, but any illusion that we can just settle down here burned with them," she declared, her voice carrying more authority than Rhiannon realized she could ever muster.
"We need to decide who stays and who goes, and to where," the Sunshy stressed.
The murmur that swept the circle held no easy answers, only the shifting tenor of choices yet unmade.
Rhiannon stepped forward, her voice firm despite her earlier uncertainty. "I know where I stand. I'm returning to Greyhold."
She met the eyes of those who still shot her with disapproving stares. "If I don't face the council and tell them what truly happened here, someone else will twist that truth. Someone who'll paint us all as liars or traitors to justify what they've lost."
Garrett shifted on his stone seat, one arm wrapped protectively around Wyatt. "That's if you get to even speak before they lock you up, or worse."
"Then I'll make sure the truth comes from more than my voice alone." Rhiannon's gaze swept to Vikka, then to Veyran. "If some friends are willing to bear witness."
Vikka narrowed her eyes then tapped Tibbin with her tail. "We are not friends. And know that we have unfinished business in that place where you held us." Her translator haltingly interpreted her words into a passable pidgin of Shy and human speech. Tibbin gasped once he realized the meaning of what she was saying. "Vikka, you're going back?" he asked, switching back to kobold. "I don't want to go! Does anybody? Are you leaving us with Mirys? Aren't we all returning to the caldera?"
The other kobolds turned sharply toward Mirys as she tapped her staff, her golden eyes and soft words reflecting a measured calm meant to soother. "Roots may spread out together, but they cannot keep sharing the same patch of earth," she offered thoughtfully. "They wander, find new streams to drink from, and lead growth down new directions."
The pronouncement earned a honk from Sidhe, who sat among the other kobolds. "We belong in the safety of a nest, sheltered by stone. We've lingered too long in these woods."
"Too long for what?" Vikka scoffed, her tail lashing. "Too long to explore more of the world beyond the cradle? Too long to learn we're more than what the nest-mothers say we are?"
Sensing a prolonged argument developing between the kobolds, Vazko rose from his position to de-escalate the tension. Though his armor bore the scars of recent battle, his bearing remained that of a commander. "Argue all you like," he said calmly. "But remember, splitting up now weakens us all. The Veilwoods helped us deal with our challenges this time. We can't assume it will be as accommodating for the next."
Mara nodded grimly. Even Garrett straightened, recognizing the wisdom behind the warning.
"We have to take the little ones back," Eryl asserted. "Fresh sprouts need to be nourished by settled soil."
But the Deepguard wasn't finished. He nodded, but his sharp gaze cut toward Menna and Veyran, and when he continued, his tone carried a colder edge. "Digging to the root of a different matter, some of us have other issues to consider. There'll be repercussions for what's been... uncovered here."
Menna stiffened, her hand moving toward the satchel of arclith instruments at her side. "What do you mean?"
"The Warden," Vazko said flatly. "You know what will happen if word of its capabilities were to reach certain circles. It's likely that such a strong surge of arclith energy would have been noticed in the Deep. I've been… delayed in reporting the status of our expedition. The masters are likely to have noted our movements, and they're smart enough to connect the dots."
Understanding deepened in Menna's eyes, and with it, concern. Beside her, Veyran's jaw tightened, his expression calculating.
Later when the gathering broke up, the kobolds grappled with more questions that had no easy answers.
Nynka cleared her throat, her tail tapping nervously against a root. "When we go back..." She paused, then corrected herself. "For those of us who plan to go back, the nest-mothers… maybe even the queen herself, will want explanations. Why we let the humans take our eggs. Why we followed the Shy instead of coming straight home."
Across from her, Tesska methodically cleaned the tips of her claws. "So, we tell them the truth? That we followed a false queen's call. That we had no choice but to work with those we were taught to view as pests." She didn't sound conflicted, just tired.
"They'll think we've gone strange," Rena hissed. "We could sully the nests, having mixed with Shy and humans."
Sidhe gave a harsh snort. "Maybe we will mess things up a bit."
The admission hung between them, too true to dismiss.
Vikka lifted her head, the firelight painting her horns in bronze arcs. "Strange or not, we survived," she affirmed. "We made choices no other kobolds have had to make. If the cradle needs a tale, we'll tell it true. The truth is we stayed together as kin through all that we faced. And if the nest-mothers—if the queen—can't see that as strength? It's their loss. I'd rather be strange than shrink back into their mold."
"That'll be a tricky story," Nynka murmured, worry flickering in her amber eyes. " They'll pick at every part of it."
"Let them," Vikka replied, her gaze drifting toward the river where the Warden stayed submerged.
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A soft scrape of wood on earth announced Mirys settling beside them, her staff laid across her knees. The runes carved into its length pulsed faintly, keeping time with her breathing.
Her gaze swept the circle. "If you return to the cradle, carry the truth like a seed. Plant it with care. Tell them the deep-song doesn't end at the edge of the Cradle Caverns. It connects us all."
Away from the other groups, Rhiannon crouched beside a flat stone serving as a map table. Ash and charcoal marked the sketch across its surface, delineating river bends and forest trails, with Greyhold a dark smudge to the east. Garrett and Roddick leaned in while Wyatt sat cross-legged nearby. The boy continued braiding rope from reeds, his eyes darting between Rhiannon and his father, picking up on their unspoken fears.
"We'll need to avoid patrols," Rhiannon traced the eastern path with one finger. "Nobody in Greyhold will expect our odd group. But if we cross anyone who's still following Ruth's orders..."
"They'll start shooting arrows before asking questions," Garrett finished grimly.
"When we tell them what happened…" Roddick muttered, his shame still written in the slouch of his shoulders. "Do we let them know how Overseer Ruth..." His gaze drifted toward the river.
Rhiannon shook her head firmly. "They don't need those details. The Warden stays hidden." She let that settle before adding, "We go in calmly. You, me, Garrett, and Wyatt."
Wyatt's head snapped up. "Me?"
"They'll doubt every word your father and I speak," she said gently. "But they might believe you and Roddick better. You're both more... innocent in their eyes."
Wyatt's hands stilled on his rope, his voice small but steady. "I can do it, Dad."
Garrett's jaw clenched, but he didn't disagree.
A soft footfall announced Vikka stepping into their circle, tail coiled tight, amber eyes glinting.
"You speak of returning," she said as Tibbin revealed himself behind the larger female, translating Vikka's kobold speech to the human tongue with enthusiasm. "I made a vow to free my sisters. The ones still caged in your Brood Barn. Grilsha needs to be dealt with. She falsely called herself queen. Lied to my kin. Helped you take our eggs to trade like trinkets."
Her gaze swung to Rhiannon with predatory intensity. "We can't leave them to that existence."
Rhiannon met her stare without flinching. "If all goes well with the council, we'll let them go as soon as we can."
"Not if." Vikka's tail thumped the ground, Tibbin mirroring her motions. "Swear to me that freeing them won't be just some afterthought."
"I swear it," Rhiannon said, her voice steady despite the weight of the promise. "But you need to come with us."
"I fully intend to. I don't think they'll trust you to lead them to freedom." Vikka growled.
"My advice is that you let us go ahead into Greyhold to smooth the way. One false move, or any misunderstanding, may doom them… and us," Rhiannon answered. "If things go wrong, we won't have the help of the others."
Vikka held her stare a moment longer, then turned away sharply, tail slicing the air. But her parting words lingered:
"Fail us, human, and the forest will know." As they walked away, Tibbin turned to look back and give an apologetic shrug to Wyatt.
Wyatt watched them go, chewing his lower lip. "She sounded... angry."
"She sounded like someone with something to prove," Rhiannon countered.
Vazko and Veyran stood together by the water, watching the current carry away the last remnants of ash and cinders.
"The masters will want a comprehensive report," Vazko sighed, his mask of discipline slipping to reveal the doubt etched behind it. "Everything that's happened here, the full extent of Menna's discoveries…"
Veyran let out a curt, sharp laugh. "Brother, I knew that's what's been bugging you… Will you give them what they want?"
"I've sworn oaths…" Vazko shook his head.
"To people who would chain knowledge because it threatens their control." Veyran turned to face his brother fully. "You've seen what that Warden can do when properly guided. You've watched Menna's work bridging the gaps, uncovering different ways of understanding the world. And you'd hand it all over to be buried in the Deep like everything else they've deemed threatening?"
Vazko's silence stretched long enough for Veyran to start turning to leave.
"I saw Sunna die," he said finally. "I held her as she bled out. She made me promise to tell her family she died fighting for what mattered…" His voice roughened. "What matters anymore, Veyran?"
Veyran studied his brother's profile. "I can't figure that out for you."
"No," Vazko agreed. "But I'm running out of time to figure it out for myself."
Menna moved through the camp, checking and rechecking her equipment with the obsessive care of someone trying to avoid larger questions. Her arclith instruments hummed with residual energy, their readings still fluctuating from recent events.
She found Sela leaning against Warby like a big, furry armchair, the water rat's tail wrapped around her neck and shoulders. The Sunshy looked up as Menna approached, her expression carefully neutral.
"Something on your mind?" Sela asked.
Menna settled beside her, grateful for the company. "Wondering if what we've learned will ever be useful to the rest of Shykind… Maybe none of it was ever meant to be rediscovered. Maybe it's all just too much…"
"Is there anything that could be easily accepted, or at least shared with Shy who aren't scholars like you?"
"Both everything and nothing." Menna's shook her head, trying to smile through the bitter feelings bubbling under. "The other academics will call it all arclith heresy."
Sela was quiet for a moment. "My clan have a saying," she said finally. "Truth shines even brighter than the sun."
"We Middleshy say something kind of like that… Truth travels faster than trade." Menna sighed, a pang of homesickness hitting her as she remembered her family. "Somehow I doubt the Deepshy say anything similar."
"It's their choice to continue being ignorant of what could have been… and what still could be."
"But the masters seem to have been making that same choice for generations."
"If there's one thing you should have learned, Miss Middleshy scholar, is that we've gone way beyond any boundaries set for us by a few old Deepshy still stuck in the dirt. Just keep going."
As the night deepened, the survivors gradually found their own spaces within the clearing. Some chose solitude, others sought the comfort of familiar companions. But all were contemplating the choices that would reshape not just their own futures, but the new connections between their peoples.
Rhiannon stood apart from the others, Ashwind's reins loose in her hands as the mare grazed. She felt as if the certainties she'd built her life around had all been stripped away, leaving her untethered and disoriented.
Ruth's face haunted her. Not as the mad tyrant she'd become, but as the sister she once knew. Her own ambitions and motivations had been both similar and familiar, if only they hadn't gone down slightly divergent paths.
"Ready to return to human civilization?" Veyran's tried to sound casual as he approached, his small form barely visible in the dim light.
Rhiannon began to ready an appropriate barb in response, but she found herself buckling down into the grass, bringing her eyes level with the Deepshy's gaze.
"How does one bear it?" she asked to his face. "Knowing that your influence, your knowledge, all that you thought would be used for the better… has mainly ended up causing pain and harm?"
Veyran shrugged, his body language easier for her to discern with the proximity. "By choosing who I share them with? By making sure I reach out to people who can do the most good with them?"
He paused, then added, "The Deepshy masters will fear what we've learned because it threatens their version of order. But real progress isn't imposed. It grows from understanding, from connection, from trust freely given." His eyes found hers. "That's what you're really going back to Greyhold to offer. Not a return to business as usual, but a partnership in building something better."
Rhiannon nodded, and she began to feel Ruth's voice fading into the night.
Before turning in, Mirys led a small gathering of kobolds in the deep-song, their voices weaving harmonies that seemed to ease the forest's lingering pain.
Wyatt listened to the strange music as he sat by the river, his reed rope finished and coiled in his lap, the gentle sounds of the current easing his restless thoughts.
Garrett approached quietly, settling beside his son with care. "How are you holding up?" he asked.
"I keep thinking about what happened to… Ruth." Wyatt admitted. " He looked up at his father. "I know she did wrong and was… a bad person. But how do we know Overseer Rhiannon won't make the same mistakes?"
Garrett considered the question with the gravity it deserved. "I think Ruth forgot that real strength comes from lifting others up, not pushing them down. Rhiannon... she's learning that too. We all are."
Father and son leaned on each other in comfortable silence, watching the stars reflect in the water as the kobolds' voices faded.