Once he was sure no new patrol was near, Gamarron clambered up to the tree’s opening. The bark was worn smooth near the entrance, and his questing hands felt an unusual texture beneath the rough skin of the tree. It was softer than wood and gave under his fingers in a spongy, gummy kind of way only to spring firmly back into shape. He leaned away, letting moonlight illuminate the spot he had touched. The substance of the tree was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was translucent, glimmering faintly underneath the bark like a dried-out slug’s trail. Pushing at the stuff, he could see it give and stretch only to immediately retake its shape when he removed his finger.
“I’m not sure this is a real tree,” he called back to Kest softly.
He could see the whites of the young man’s eyes clearly in the night. “Can we talk about it inside?” the boy pleaded. Reluctantly, Gamarron nodded. He’d been avoiding entering the tree, and he hadn’t even let himself know it. You may have lost your peace, he chided himself, but don’t lose your courage too. Steeling himself, he clambered up into the gaping hole in the tree.
He expected darkness inside and was pleasantly surprised to find a dim illumination painting the interior of the great tree… or whatever it is. The mass of the thing was indeed a little translucent, and it glowed with a faint bluish whiteness. The stuff had a firm, dry sponginess beneath his hands and knees as he took his bearings. Thankfully, the interior passageway opened up to standing height. Perhaps the snake people don’t like crawling on their bellies any more than we do.
Kest gawked, prodding at the blue luminescence of the tree’s insides. “This is weird.”
“A mystery for another time,” Gamarron whispered, gesturing ahead. Kest nodded, his disfigured face passing in a moment from curious to frightened and on to determined. The old monk wished his long-dead son could have met this boy.
The passageway hugged the perimeter of the tree, sloping upward as it went. Every decameter or so a doorway interrupted the blue sameness of the corridor. The doors were of regular hardwood and looked as if they opened on to rooms that filled the interior space of the tree. The translucent walls were thick enough that only the barest hint of what lay beyond could be seen - shadowy shapes clouded the crystalline dimness that could have been either Naga soldiers lying in wait or tables and wardrobes sitting in empty rooms.
“Should we check one of these rooms?” Kest wondered quietly. “All of them? How are we going to find this thing?”
The enormity of the question defeated him for a moment, but Gamarron forced himself to think analytically. “We check one here, and then move farther up into the tree and do the same. Hopefully that will help us start to understand how they organize their dwellings.”
There was a door only a few meters ahead of them, and Gamarron squinted, looking for any signs of movement within. The translucent material betrayed nothing useful. Either it’s empty, or we’ll burst in on a dozen snake people having dinner.
He thumbed open the door’s latch and slowly, silently pushed it open, putting an eye in the crack. The narrow slice of room he could see held crumpled cloth on the floor and the corner of some wooden bit of furniture, but nothing moved, and he heard no sound. Muscles tensed and ready to spring, he opened the door all the way.
The room was unoccupied. Behind him, Kest let out a small sigh of relief. They entered and scanned the room. It was a living space. Rumpled blankets and pillows made the nook on the far side into a cozy little nest, and a low table in the center was likely where the inhabitants ate. Other bits of furniture were strangely shaped and had less obvious uses to the human eye, but taken all together, the room had the unmistakable feel of a home.
“It’s so… normal,” Kest said.
Gamarron turned to him. “Don’t do that,” he warned. “If you humanize them, you’ll hesitate when we face them. They’ll kill you in a heartbeat.
“I know that,” the boy muttered. “That’s not what I meant.”
Gamarron gripped his arm. “They will eat your flesh and be glad of it. If we have to fight, make it a killing blow and don’t think twice. It’s the only way I survived the demons all those years.”
“I can do it,” the Beast Rider said, trying to sound confident.
Rather than voice his doubts, Gamarron gave him a brisk nod. “There’s nothing useful here. Let’s move on.”
They crept out of the room and continued up the sloping hallway through the tree, intending to check the upper levels. If we have to search every tree, there’s no way we’ll find the Shard tonight. Every hour we spend increases the chance we’ll be discovered.
As if triggered by the thought, a whisper of sound drifted down the hallway toward them. It was a quiet, papery noise, as if someone was dragging an open book across a wooden floor. Sibilant mutters wafted on the air behind it. Naga were coming down from above.
It would take longer to get to the door behind them than the one ahead. Moving on silent feet, they dashed forward. Another voice joined the first, conversing in the Naga tongue. If they were found here, the ensuing fight would probably bring more Naga from both above and below. If that happened, they would both die in this alien treehouse.
They reached the next door, throwing frantic glances up the curving corridor. Sound apparently traveled in strange ways in these trees, for no one was in sight yet. Throwing the latch, Gamarron pushed – but the portal was barred from within. That means the room is occupied. There was no time to go anywhere else. Transferring his weight to his right
