Reggie glanced around. “Should we move? Are we in the way?”
The Wilding shook his head. “No, you’re fine. Just keep silent and don’t interrupt during the song and all will be well.” He walked over to one of the stalagmites. I noticed that many of the spiraling rock towers had polished flat surfaces that ranged from a few inches tall to two feet high, and they were big enough surfaces to be seats.
But instead of sitting, he knelt on one of the shorter ones, and placed his hands on the stalagmite. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the rock, and took hold of both sides with his hands.
The next moment, a deep booming sounded, three times. And then, the air was filled with the sound of humming, a deep, resonate sound. We looked around, seeing other creatures that looked vaguely like our guide, from his height to our own height, and they each had knelt on one of the numerous stalagmites, and their voices joined the song that rippled through the air, like concentric rings on water, reverberating out to fill the vast chamber with sound.
It was the hum of deep earth, the rumble of eons grinding on mountains, the sound of time flowing around us, sweeping us along in its ever-moving stream. I felt the depths of the world surround me, so deep that I felt like I was melting into themagic, so rich and sturdy that I felt like I could never fall. That as time passed by, I’d simply be absorbed into the ebb and flow of history, and nothing would matter anymore—neither good, nor bad—we would all join the past that built into the future.
A few moments later, the energy broke, abruptly releasing its hold, and I shuddered, realizing that I’d been captivated by the song as it passed through me. It felt as though I was waking up after a hundred years of slumber.
“I…I…” I looked around, noticing that all the Wildings were standing up, as though nothing had happened, and going about their business. I glanced at our friend. “What’s your name?” I asked.
His brow furrowing, he looked confused. “I am Wilding—I am one of the hive. One crystal in the geode.”
“Don’t you have any name…any word that designates you—separate from the others?”
After a moment, understanding crossed his fate. “Ah, our indicators. I am known as Sen-ti.”
Reggie let out a low breath. “That was incredible,” he said. “It was beyond beautiful.”
“It is the song of our people. The song of our hearts.” Sen-ti motioned for us to follow him. “Now, if you would come with me, I’ll introduce you to the Circle of Elders. They will explain what is happening. If you cannot help, I will take you back to the forest.”
I glanced around as we followed him to one of the bigger buildings. All the houses seemed to be made of sandstone or clay or adobe—some such substance. As I looked around, I knew, in my heart, that anybody hurting these creatures, the Wildings, needed to be stopped. For I understood that the Wildings were nature incarnate, they were avatars of the world, and to hurt them, was to harm the world itself.
CHAPTER 24: THINGS GET VERY REAL
We followedSen-ti through the cavern, and the other Wildings just gave us nods and gentle smiles. But as we wound through the apartments and houses in the massive underground world, I noticed that all of the creatures seemed somber, as though they were under some sort of gloom spell.
“Are they okay?” I asked.
Sen-ti let out a sigh. “They’re worried. I told you, a foe has entered our forest and when we go out to gather our food, the enemy picks us off. The Elders have deemed it necessary to seek outside help. When I saw you, I knew you were trustworthy. No Elf travels with those who would desecrate the sacred land.”
I felt bad for deceiving him, because he had no clue that he was in a game and that I wasn’t really an Elf. But then again, game or not, we could die in here and that made things very real. “You can rest assured we aren’t going to harm you.”
He stopped before a simple one-story building. “The Elders are here. They’re waiting for us.” He paused, then added, “Thank you, again, for agreeing to hear us out.”
“How do we address the Council?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Sen-ti asked, looking confused.
“I mean, is there anything we should say or do to show our respect?”
Sen-ti looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not sure what you mean. They’ll be grateful to talk to you.”
It was then that it really hit home. The Wildings were a race based in respect and grounding. There wouldn’t be any problems ofshould we bow, orwhat not to say so we don’t insult themorare they going to be so arrogant we can’t work with them. Because the Wildings were truly humble beings.
Sen-ti led us into the building, into the main room. It was dimly lit, but the light was warm and welcoming, and I instantly felt at ease. I let out a soft breath, relaxing. There was some sort of background music, a low hum that rippled through me like a calming heartbeat, a slow rhythm that felt steady as the world itself.
A group of seven Wildings sat around a hole in the ground in which a campfire crackled. The warmth filled the room. Combined with the music, it enshrouded us in a soothing, muffled energy.
“Please sit,” Sen-ti said, motioning to a couple of logs on the floor near the fire, facing the semicircle of Wildings.
We took our seats and waited.
The group of Wildings looked ancient—old beyond years. Their skin looked leathery, almost lignified, and here and there a knot or burl against their ancient faces reminded me of the burls on trees. Each Wilding looked different, but there were similarities. Some were short, some tall, some fat and some thin. But they all had a similar countenance, and they all felt connected to each other. They were part of a vast family, I thought, a family made of heart and spirit rather than blood.
Sen-ti spoke to the others in a language I didn’t understand, and yet it felt familiar—like whispering on the wind. I thought I might catch what they were talking about, if I listened longenough. After a moment, the Wilding who looked the eldest turned to me.
