The Grove of Knowledge benefitted from an accord with the fungi underground. The fungi spread far and wide, with eyes and ears in every corner of the realm, allowing them to provide the trees with all manner of news.
“There’s a pirate queen docked in the castle’s main harbor.”
“Lady Greyton has been missing for three weeks, and they’ve stopped looking for her.”
“Prince Alvyd is trying to start a war with Cressau.”
The Grove cared little for the first two murmurings, but the third gave it pause, situated as it was on the border between Cressau and Zofroustan, the kingdom of which Alvyd was a prince, by virtue of his father being King Valdemar.
“Tell us more about the war,” the Grove asked.
Within a day, the fungi reported back. “He claims to have been blessed with a vision showing a unified kingdom spanning the land of Cressau and Zofroustan. King Valdemar has given Prince Alvyd his blessing.”
The Grove observed trepidation amongst the fungi, tied as they were to the roots of the trees. “There is yet more, is there not?”
“Prince Alvyd says that to wage his war, the Grove must be cleared.”
Taemaern, one of the eldest trees of the Grove, roared, “Prince Alvyd would not dare!”
But the other trees remained silent. Prince Alvyd would, in fact, dare. To deny that he would was to deny the knowledge the Grove preserved. It was in keeping with the prince’s nature.
And there were none who would stop him, if he had the blessing of King Valdemar.
“What news from Cressau?” the Grove asked the fungi.
“They remain unaware.”
The Grove considered. It had stood through countless wars, remaining safe because the people knew the knowledge it possessed. It had remained neutral in such matters.
But over the years, the people of Zofroustan had chosen to forget, had chosen to turn away from what the Grove provided.
“We are in need of a champion from Cressau,” the Grove said. “Find us a suitable human and bring them to us.”
The next day, a small, disheveled human approached the Grove. Her hair was long but tangled, and she wore a tattered dress, her face and clothing marred with ash and grime.
“This is our champion?” the Grove asked the fungi.
“She seeks knowledge.”
Ashleaf, the nearest tree to the girl, spoke. “Greetings, young one.”
The girl stared at the Grove, blinking. “I heard whispers in my dreams that I should come here.”
“Good that you have. We require a herald, to tell the Queen of Cressau that Zofroustan has designs on her territory.”
“Begging your pardon, but Queen Merelda will not listen to an urchin like me.”
“Perhaps not. But you can tell others. These secrets will spread. They will reach her ears.”
The girl bit her lip. “What if someone finds out I told those secrets?”
“When you have done your duty, you may return here and be sheltered, if that is your desire.”
“Yes,” the girl replied, eyes shining. She curtseyed before hurrying away.
Grumbles passed through the Grove. “We have never before chosen a side in a war.”
The fungi said, “You have never before been threatened directly by a war. This is for your preservation and our own.”
“There is another option,” Ashleaf said, emboldened by her role in speaking with the child. “We can take our knowledge elsewhere, away from this war, and especially away from Zofroustan.”
“Knowledge is not to be withheld from anyone!” The Grove replied, shock in its collective voice.
“But what of those who eschew knowledge?” Taemaern asked. “And those who threaten it?”
“If this is your choice, we can help,” the fungi said.
“Let us see what the child can accomplish,” the Grove said, though it felt the tremors of uncertainty throughout its individual trees.
By the time the girl returned a week later, the fungi had conveyed more news to the Grove.
“The surveyors are plotting a road to Cressau. Their route will take them directly through the Grove.”
“The blacksmiths of Zofroustan have been charged with making nothing but axes.”
“Cressau, too, prepares for war.”
Ashleaf spoke to the girl again, on behalf of the Grove. “What news?”
“Word has made its way to the Queen, as you said it would. She has recalled the soldiers from far-flung posts to the castle.”
“Then there is to be war,” the Grove said, a sigh escaping all its members.
“You said you could offer me protection,” the girl said. “I do not wish to go back to a city soon to be at war.”
“War will find you here as well, child,” Ashleaf replied.
“Then what will you do?” the girl asked.
“We promised to protect you, and we will,” the Grove said. “But we have another important decision to make.”
Trees do not travel quickly on their own. With the help of fungal intertwinement, though, their progress can be hastened. Their lifeblood intermingles underground, their roots and sap entangled with fungal branching growth.
And so the Grove of Knowledge migrated, first out of the path of the planned road in time to avoid the builders, then entirely from the border of Zofroustan, depriving that kingdom’s citizens of its benefits.
Cressau welcomed the Grove into its borders. And in so doing, that kingdom found itself in possession of a trove of information from within Zofroustan, as well as other knowledge the fungi and Grove provided, conveyed by a young urchin called Penny.
Queen Merelda called for the girl frequently enough that soon Penny had a royal carriage to bring her to and from the castle each day, always returning her to the safety of the Grove before bedtime. And with Penny’s information, carried from the fungi and Grove, Queen Merelda wiped Zofroustan from the map.
0 Comments