The dead forest that surrounded the Island seemed to be an unspoken warning. Moving through the quiet boughs of the trees seemed eerie, but once they got significantly into the island, they wished for the silence. The sounds that the trees made were decidedly unnatural. They whispered, always just below hearing. To the Mau this was normal, and they seemed to ignore the whispers. Taka and his Mercenaries, however, found it unsettling. It appeared that the trees didn’t move, and looked harmless.
The leaves were a kaleidoscope of color. Each leaf seemed a different shade than the last, some bright and vivid reds and blues, while others were dark and dull browns and oranges. An artist that sought paint pigments would have loved it were it not for that unsettling whispering that surrounded them. They moved slowly, always watching the trees until they saw a large tree blocking the road. A’lia pointed it out with her staff, “That is a hangman’s tree. The boughs are thin and wispy, but it feeds on its victims. It seeks to get its branches about the neck of its victim and strangles them. Once that is done, branches pierce the skin and act as roots, draining the body and absorbing the nutrients. Once the body decays to bones, it lets the corpse go and moves to a new location. This one seems hungry, and we should go back and find another way.”
“How fast is it?” Erikson asked.
“The roots of the tree go slowly, it takes a day to move roughly a mile, and so they don’t have a large hunting ground. The branches, however, can move swiftly. A Mau at full speed might be able to run under its branches and be safe. I do not know how swift a human would be.”
“Might be able to?” Taka asked.
A’lia nodded as she gestured, “They whip them about and seem good at predicting the behavior of prey. The branch usually coils about the neck swiftly, and then the victim’s movement closes the figurative noose around its neck.” She stretched her staff forward only to see a branch snapped out, trying to catch the tip of the staff. She pulled it back as the whip crack of the branches pierced the air. The Mercenaries fidgeted before she smiled, “Anyone wish to go this way?”
No one argued.
~*~
Taka learned much on their trip to the stronghold of the Unbroken. The creatures that survived on the continent were all mutated by the Mana that corrupted everything around. It seemed to lower the life expectancy, but in return gave a vicious advantage in a world of oppressive hostility. The birds had talons that could pierce metal; the rodents were poisonous. Many plants became carnivorous, while the Mau saw a shortening of life if they didn't dip into the Tap. The ones who did were said to gain all kinds of mutations. However, no one could agree what they were. Some claimed it was speed, others strength and still more claimed it was the ability to wield magic.
The Ronin wasn’t sure what to expect but prepared himself mentally all the same. He worked through his journey here as his hand rested on the saya of Rengoku. He had encountered the Mau on the plains of Gisela, only to be assassinated by the enigmatic Red. He had watched his home port destroyed by the invading forces powerless to stop them as he defeated their General, only to lose the war. They had committed mutiny and taken the fleet from Baron Fordstein, and Taka was sure the repercussions of that would haunt him for quite some time.
They reached the stronghold by the dawn. One of the mercenaries let out a contagious yawn before he shook his head, preparing himself. Taka took in the man's actions before he gestured to the Mau, “Go.”
A’lia nodded as they moved. The Ronin rolled his shoulder, feeling the stabbing pain of the bullet wound in his shoulder. He had managed to ignore the pain for the most part, but a canny opponent would strike for his injuries as they were weak points. He would have to be cautious. Silently he counted as A’lia, and the others fled into the fortress. The building appeared not unlike some despots grandiose castle. The architecture was smooth and short, with a central spire that seemed to spiral to the sky. It was not only a monument to the wonders of magic but a silent warning.
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