Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [220]
In the ruins of the worldforest, some areas were so dense with fallen trees and deadwood that they formed barriers impenetrable even to heavy Roamer machinery. The worst tangles, though, were the most fascinating to Celli.
What was the forest hiding in there?
She bounded through thickets, curious about the shielded islands of fallen trees that seemed to her like consciously protective barricades. Standing before a huge deadfall, Celli looked at the tightly packed trunks and broken branches. In the midst of the furious attack, had the worldforest intentionally drawn down its doomed hulks to form an armored dome to shelter something vitally important?
And why would that be so strange? With her own eyes she had seen the rush of verdant rebirth as the forest used its stored energy to regrow foliage as fast as the hydrogues could destroy it. That miracle had lasted only briefly, wondrous and lush and green, but it showed the worldforest’s unique power and majesty. She could think of no reason why there might not be other miracles in the offing.
Ever curious, Celli worked her way into the thicket. Gnarled branches scratched like claws, warning intruders away. Withered fronds hung like witches’ brooms, blocking her way, but Celli felt no sinister presence here. She wasn’t a green priest and could not sense the worldtrees; nevertheless, she belonged here on Theroc. The trees, even these wounded or dying ones, would know she meant them no harm.
She wormed her way forward. She had always been able to get into tight places and awkward situations, often to her dismay. Her body was whip-thin and resilient, and she found openings that no machine, or even a broad-shouldered man like Solimar, could have gotten through.
Pushing more branches aside, Celli ignored the scratches she received. Some brittle twigs broke into charcoal as she pressed against them; others were surprisingly resilient and flexible. She smelled fresh moisture again, proof that parts of the forest had escaped being scorched or frozen.
This sheltered place was still remarkably alive, gathering energy during an exhausted rest. It was like a secret and magical glen…
Celli had often enjoyed eavesdropping on green priest acolytes as they told stories to the worldforest. Now she recalled the story of Sleeping Beauty and her spellbound castle protected by an unbreakable wall of thorny vines.
As she worked her way deeper, Celli noticed to her surprise that the branches were actually shifting and stirring. They moved of their own accord, stretching out of the way to make her passage easier—to let her through.
At first she thought it was just her imagination, but as she turned slightly, she could see the twigs rustle and flex, opening another path, guiding her. Grinning, she hurried forward, wondering where the foliage might want her to go. “What are you hiding inside there?”
She drew closer to the heart of the thicket and with each step she took, the branches continued to part for her. Only glimmers could penetrate the clumped wickerwork of tumbled branches overhead, and so the light was dim. But she found her way without a single misstep.
Finally, she reached the center of the thicket under an interlocked dome of tree branches. Beneath the dome lay a shadowed meadow where condorflies had once flitted and large flowers had grown.
Celli saw a single wooden pillar growing there in the open space. The trunk, as tall as she was, looked too thick and gnarled to be a treeling. It stood like an obelisk, a totem pole, or some sort of shrine that the trees themselves had created, thrusting it out of the Theron soil.
Obviously, this was what the worldtrees had been protecting.
She moved closer, carefully, reverently. She still didn’t know what she was seeing. As she paced around the wooden obelisk, she saw that its cylindrical shape was grooved and swirled with long bumps, like thick branches twisted in a knot.
With a start, she realized that it oddly resembled a human form, as if a shuddering man had wrapped his arms tightly around himself, tucked his head