Chapter 25

Haledon's fingers continued to trace the walls as he walked. As he stared at the stone, he thought about the mushrooms and their purpose. He watched them as they withered and fell, concentrating their nutrients internally before they joined his bramble armour.

As he travelled farther along the cavern, he noticed the glow of the mushrooms gradually diversifying. The hall soon radiated a complete, though unbalanced, spectrum of light. The yellow colour of drifting pollen outweighed the green for most of the walk. Still, as Haledon neared the corridor's end, the red began to dominate his vision.

Stopping for a moment, Haledon inspected one of the peachy-yellow mushrooms curiously. Plucking it with his hand, he was caught off guard by its immense weight. His hand lowered as he tightened his grip, flexing his arm in response before bringing it close.

"Wow, you—you are heavy," He muttered, and with a twist of his fingers, it decomposed into his armour. The weight rested in his arms briefly before evenly distributing across his torso and then the rest of his body.

"Better..." Haledon said and continued walking.

As his march continued and the fungi fell from the wall, attaching to his body, he could feel himself physically slowing. As though he had begun walking through a thick sludge, his feet became weighed down with each mushroom-laden step. And even though the organic matter had spread across his body, he could notice it becoming nearly impossible to move under the weight.

"Forswyn," He grumbled as he forced himself forward another step.

Stopping, he placed a hand against the wall and breathed deeply. The coolness of the stone matched the ice in the back of his mind.

"I think I've obtained too much yield and it's become a waste."

Igniting his hand with spores, a hot, red light shone, dimming the mushrooms around him. Haledon instinctively shielded his sight with his other hand.

"Ahg, by Nature's—" He mumbled before continuing in Druidic and dimming the light. "Rhizomatous Fractalis. Sphagnum Tessalae." Haledon followed, and as his fingers danced a familiar waltz, moss consumed the ground beneath him.

Lowering himself down into a sitting position, he fell with a dull thud against the mat. Haledon pressed his back to the wall, releasing another deep sigh. He examined the faint red glow of the tunnel.

"Observe and interact. Catch and store energy. Obtain a yield. Apply self-regulation and accept feedback. Use and value renewable resources. Produce no waste. Okay...Sparrow, what am I missing here?"

He muttered again in Druidic, and his body relaxed as the nutrients from the armour began to transfer into him. And even though he wasn't eating, he was occasionally presented with a sweet flavour or a sudden tang as his senses responded. He began to realize that as he sat and observed the tunnel around him, the suit nourished him, satiating him for the first time in days.

"Observe and interact. I followed the sun, observed my surroundings, and found this cavern and mushrooms." Haledon mused to himself, recounting various examples and trying to prove he knew what he was doing.

"Catch and store energy. I opened myself up to the sun's morning warmth. My clothing was the energy allowing me to get up the wall safely. The plants caught my energy and transferred it into heat—but I don't understand why yet." He touched his chest, fiddling with the burl covered by the new organics.

"Obtain a yield. Yes, I yielded plenty of organics from the tunnel...but the fungus was already there." He thought for a moment. "I yielded an appreciation for warmth and companionship." Haledon thought of Gazeas momentarily before thinking of the rest of his Guild and ship. He had been so focused on escape that he hadn't taken a moment to realize that this had been the longest he had ever been alone.

In his entire life, he had never spent more than an evening without another Druid nearby. And for the briefest moment, Haledon experienced overwhelming sadness.

"Apply self-regulation and accept feedback." Haledon shook the anxious thought and looked at his damaged hand. "Yeah, I think I understand that one."

He poked at the limb, sending a stab of pain through his body and further separating himself from the thought of loneliness.

"Use and value renewable resources. Since the mushrooms already grew here and would grow back after a harvest, they should be renewable." Haledon felt himself stretching his examples. "And I put some mushrooms back into the system, and that's no waste?"

He sat quietly for a moment, internally debating his last statement.

"Produce no waste. I used the natural fabrics from my clothing to make the organics that helped me into this cavern. Reusing one thing for something else is producing no waste...right? What am I missing?"

Rolling a pea in his fingers, he whispered in Druidic and tossed it against the wall. It stuck and quickly transformed into a small cluster of conical mushrooms. Haledon watched the faint green light drifting out as spores clashed with the tunnel's remaining red glow.

Over several minutes, the green light faded, and eventually, the mushrooms withered and fell from the wall.

"What...?" He muttered and, with strained movements, crawled over to the fungus, investigating it with curious intent. Within a moment, Haledon had pinpointed the issue.

"Nutrient deficiency? But how are the other mushrooms growing here—"

Standing, he dragged his heavy feet forward to the next batch of mushrooms for harvest. This time, he did so with his hands instead of removing them with Druidic. Peeling the mushroom away from the wall, the weight surprised him even more than the last had. Anticipating heft, he braced only to fling his arms up at its airiness.

"Huh." He muttered instinctively, examining the point where the fruit had emerged from the rock. He studied the mycelial root system that dug deep into the solid stone.

Wandering back to his mushroom, he probed at the wall again, finding nothing but the cold stone unfazed by his fungus.

"It won’t set." He said, looking back at the mat he had grown. Shining his red-lit hand towards it, he noticed the moss sunken where he had sat, but the remaining plot appeared relatively fresh.

"Huh..." He muttered even louder the second time as he shifted back to the moss.

Rubbing his hand against the mat, he lifted it in a substantial chunk. He saw that even though the dense clump still maintained an appearance of vigour, the rhizoids hadn't fully developed. Haledon reached out and ran a hand along the hairlike roots at the bottom.

"You must close the loop," He could remember Sparrow lecturing during one of his Druidic lessons. "Nature is not a downhill stream; it does not flow in one direction. If the roots of a plant have no soil to grip, they die. If no nutrients support what you ask of them, they die. If the plant cannot die or is moved from a site, the nutrients from its remains do not replenish the soil, and the next plant dies. Pioneers come first, then the serals before the primeval."

"Apply self-regulation and accept feedback. Close the loop..." He muttered to himself.

Haledon's mind raced as he debated nutrient balancing, growth and decomposition rate. He also had to contend with the lack of vertebrates in the cavern's non-existent soil. Twisting his wrist, a mushroom pushed up through the moss, radiating a dull green glow. He watched the fungus as it pulsed spores and the mossy mat recoiled in equal steps. With a snap of his fingers and a muttering in Druidic, the mushroom decomposed into the moss.

Haledon leaned in and inspected the soft mat, immediately noticing that some natural vitality had returned.

"Yes!" He cheered, his voice echoing down the tunnel. "That's how you produce no waste." He quieted himself, leaning into his living workstation with an understanding nod.

Snapping his fingers, Haledon smiled as he waved his hand and, with concentrated thought and chant, produced a different mushroom. The stem pushed through the moss, and a flat-topped cap grew to the size of the Druid's hand. Unlike the mushrooms before, bioluminescent pollen didn't drift with ease. Instead, a concentrated natural light source radiated from deep within the gills. It illuminated the moss in a white-yellow glow, revealing its actual colour and texture.

Haledon watched closely at the edges of the mat, noticing that the retreat had nearly come to a halt. To the untrained sapling, it would appear as if the moss had frozen altogether. However, he could still see the ever-creeping retreat of the plant toward the light.

"Catch and store energy. With a little given back to entropy." Haledon approved as he looked at the rest of the tunnel.

He knew what he needed to do.

Standing up, Haledon cleared his throat and began to chant in Druidic. His voice echoed down the rocky passage. Raising a hand, he dragged it across his chest and touched the floor. There was a moment of silence before the sound of thick globules striking the stone announced the call to Nature had been heard.

Haledon looked up, observing as the remaining mushrooms hanging from the walls fell to the ground. They flowed towards his moss, like a snake weaving through the desert sand, eventually connecting. The raw matter transformed into a thick, spongy mat with the sporadic flat-topped caps shining light to the floor.

Even his armour had begun to melt away at the end of the chant, leaving only a thin layer of protective roots to maintain his heat. The remaining plant material joined the thick mat, forming a band that hugged the tunnel's interior. He reached up and touched the moss on the ceiling, the mushroom's mycelial web holding it in place against gravity's will. Haledon poked and prodded various sections to confirm its stability.

After spending several minutes inspecting and monitoring the glowing ring of mushrooms, Haledon nodded his approval.

"Use and value renewable resources." He recited.

With an anxious shake, he retraced the Druidic runes he had learned. The remainder of his rhizomatous armour retreated from his body, exposing his mangled hand. Painfully, he flexed his broken fingers as he struggled to complete the lengthy and complicated etching of runes.

"Let's see how this grows." He muttered to himself, finishing with a final snap of his fingers. Like a branch snapping in the woods, the sound echoed away.

There was a pregnant moment when nothing happened, and Haledon's heart slowly sank into his stomach. Then, without warning, spindly mycelial threads began to fill the void between the mushroom ring. They twisted and crossed each other, racing to create an intricate spider's web of fibrous roots that gradually impaired Haledon's vision of the cavern beyond.

Leaning in to inspect, the threads swayed against his excited panting. As they did, they gave off a faint sparkle of light as the mushroom bioluminescence played with the moisture of Haledon's breath. Plucking at one of the threads with his fingers, it bounced back into place and rippled across the web like waves across a pond.

He stepped away and watched as the web's oscillation gave way to the faint image of pinks and blues. Beyond the mesmerizing iridescence, he could see himself resting comfortably in the moss. Haledon realized at that moment he was watching himself from the canopy of the Shaman Tree.

"Yield obtained!" He jumped back with excitement.

He stepped closer to the web, inhaled and looked around. Staring at the icy cave again, he thought about the frozen expanse above him. Closing his eyes, he felt grateful for what he had learned through his struggles. How the Shaman Tree had tested him and how he had evolved. Opening his eyes, he reached his hand out to the organic wall.

"Interact." He touched the web of sparkling fibres.

Haledon's eyes opened to the dimming canopy of the tree for a second time. Raising his once-damaged hand, he flexed his fingers and admired his SOIL.

"Haledon, you did it." Gazeas's voice announced.

She approached from the side, extending a hand down to him.

"Yeah, I—" He grunted as he sat himself up, not noticing her aide. "How long was I—"

"Most of the day. I think Sparrow had the tree run us at one day per actual hour."

"Not—wait..."

"It's disorienting, huh?" Gazeas withdrew her hand and knelt beside him. "I was there for three days, and it gave me the spins when I exited. It's just your mind trying to adjust to the time change."

"I was in a frigid desert for a week. I found plants under the ice for an escape."

"Wow, that sounds...impossible."

"What about you?"

"I—uh, I was at the Razing of Rome, and I had to..." She paused and looked down into her lap. "Make sacrifices."

"What does that mean—"

"Good, you're finished, Haledon," Sparrow approached, clapping her hands. "Now, time to get back into a bramble—"

"Sparrow, get over here. Mek-Tek's got it!" Witch-Hazel quickly interrupted from across the room.

"Excellent news." Sparrow chirped as she halted her approach, instead altering her course towards the Broadhead.

"I'm coming." Haledon urged as he pushed himself up.

Anticipating the heftiness that he had felt in the cavern, he mustered his strength and flung himself into the air. "Whoa," He laughed as he landed on his feet. "Right, I'm not in the dream anymore."

"No, you're not—to both statements," Sparrow ordered as she continued to walk. "You will return to the Nexus immediately, and then you may see the Broadhead."

Haledon looked to Gazeas, who followed him towards the Mecharrion ship. She gave him a worried look and then eyed the bramble archway.

"Sparrow, I'll be fine—aren't you interested in how I escaped?"

"That's assuming I don't already know how you escaped." She replied and approached the ship.

Sparrow danced her fingers across her shoulders. Haledon watched as vines emerged from under her leather garb and wrapped around her body. They gripped tightly, constricting every inch instantly and then melting back into the clothing.

"What was that?" Gazeas asked.

"I swapped positions with my bramble clone in the Hypogeal Nexus." Sparrow placed a hand on the Broadhead's reflective exterior. "Simply touching functional Mecharrion technology destroys a human-borne Druid down to the cellular level. Only brambles and beasts—no offence, Mek-Tek—can operate without permanent adverse effects. This is why you, Seral Druid Haledon, need to return to the Nexus. Gazeas, would you care to observe the historic first activation of a Mecharrion Broadhead by Druids?"

"I—uh, sure." She looked to Haledon and gave an apologetic look.

He shrugged, motioning for her to continue as he adjusted himself for a better look inside the ship.

Walking around the back, he first stared at the shining ramp that sparkled as he approached. The glow didn't come from a plant but a root-thin metal strip that revealed illuminating pinpoints. Haledon watched as both Gazeas and Sparrow walked up the ramp of solid light, and his jaw dropped.

"What? How?" He cried out and tried to get a better look at the ramp without touching it.

"Mecharrion tech, huh?" Witch-Hazel laughed as they descended from the ship. “It’s pretty wild and alien to us Druids.”

Haledon looked past the arbornaut at Sparrow and Gazeas as they stood with their backs to him. Mek-Tek scurried inside, jumping from the metal consoles to clear walls that he quickly tapped his hands against. Various lights appeared, forming different geometric shapes across the surfaces.

"What's going to happen?" Haledon asked.

"Well, Mek-Tek has found out how to power the ship successfully, so based on his notes, now he can access what the Mecharrion call a memory core. It's like a nutrient node for information. And that's what Sparrow's after."

"Why?"

"If we can understand how the Mecharrion gather and disseminate information to one another, she hopes we can interrupt or even stop the process."

"Stop the process? Like, kill them?"

"It's Sparrow we're talking about." Witch-Hazel paused for a moment and looked at the ship. "I doubt she wants to kill the Mecharrion, but this information could be useful in that regard, too."

There was a sudden shrill sound that pierced the room's serenity. Clutching at his ears, Haledon collapsed with a bloodcurdling scream.

"Haledon? Haledon!" He could hear an unphased Witch-Hazel crying out through the alarm.

"Shut it down!" Sparrow’s panicked screams came from inside the ship.

"I can't!" Mek-Tek cried out.

Haledon looked down at the ground as the tone became sharper, seeming to hone in on the frequency most painful to him. He cried out louder as bloody tears dripped from his eyes and splashed against the leathery floor of the Megacolides.

"Something's wrong!" The Sciurus yelled out. "This shouldn't be happening."

"Mek-Tek, now!" Sparrow demanded.

"Haledon!" Gazeas screamed out as she began to clear the length of the Broadhead's interior.

Looking up, Haledon watched liquid metal beginning to pool on the underside of the ship. As the blood streamed from his face, the shrill cry piercing deep into his mind, a three-pronged spear formed from the belly of the Broadhead and pointed in his direction. Unable to move, he watched in pained horror as a red light began to illuminate its center.

The world slowed, and he found himself falling to the side. He hit the ground with a pained thud, his vision locked to where he had once been. There, Witch-Hazel knelt with a neutral face. They looked to Haledon, the vines across their lips curling into a slight smile as they closed their eyes.

With a flash of red light, Witch-Hazel was dispersed into a cloud of vines and bark. Haledon could have sworn he saw Birchbark standing over the juggernaut in the blinding flash. But he wouldn't have a second look as an explosion rocked him, flinging him away from Witch-Hazel's remains for a moment before the vacuum of decompression ripped him in another.

The warmth of the ship disappeared, and silence filled his world. In an instant, he could feel his armour quickly constricting around him. His helmet covered his face as he tumbled into the vastness of space. And at the crest of every flip, he could see the ship that had been his entire world growing ever smaller.