“He has wheelbarrows full of it,” Allavin said, shaking his head. “They’re scraping it off the trees and rocks. There was a waterfall there, a…a grotto in the woods. They were shoveling it into crates. But when they washed away the mud, it speckled just like that,” he said, pointing a finger at the Everoot. “Just like that.” The memory seemed to haunt his eyes.
“The army of Dos-Aralon will not be defeated easily,” Jaerod warned, shaking his head. “The king can send ten legions if he musters his full strength and abandons the borders. But the Shoreland regiment is enough to bring it to its knees. Imagine it. A Bandit soldier – wounded in battle – only to rise again and keep fighting, strong and whole, the very next day. You could face the same army for days, for weeks. They never tire. They never die.” The Sleepwalker sighed. “Round after round of bloodshed and destruction, the smaller force whittling down and outflanking the stronger. But it does not stop there. It does not stop with Ballinaire defeating Dos-Aralon. No, the lure of the Everoot is strong. After they win, the Bandits will fight against the Shae, then the Drugaen. They will bring down the Yukilep and Iniva and force the Shoreland cities to combine. And then as it happened before it will happen again. They will turn on themselves, leaving ghosts to walk the valley.”
The banquet room was as quiet as ashes.
“It will happen again?” Ticastasy asked, her eyes intense and sad.
Jaerod scooped the Everoot back into the pouch and tied it up, concealing it back in the folds of his tunic. “I have been inside the Shae vaults in the city of Landmoor. It was once a mighty Watchpost, many centuries ago. Back during the days when this valley was one enormous forest that stretched from the Kingshadow to the Ravenstone.” He looked at Ticastasy. “Your ancestors came to this valley seeking refuge from a great devastation. They pleaded before the Shae king with bitter tears to grant them sanctuary from the destruction and hate that was afflicting their nation.” He smirked. “To be more exact, the humans had an Empire. The Empire of Sol-don-Orai.” Thealos saw confused looks from others in the room, except Justin, who started and gazed at Jaerod intensely. “Sol-don-Orai was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, human empire. They tamed magics that shadowed the power of the Druids of Parath-Anatos. There was a Sorian there, one who could invoke the greatest possibilities of Earth magic and Firekin. The records in Landmoor, they speak of riches and wealth and power beyond the greatest Shae king’s court. An age of wisdom and opulence, the historians called it. But that wisdom was overcome by their own lust for power and magic. Yes, the Empire of Sol-don-Orai had tamed kingdoms and principalities with dazzling flying cities that could plunder and destroy, carrying armies great distances without fatigue. With a Sorian who could command nature and cause crops to yield the richest grain and fruits, this empire was unstoppable. But when they tried to control the Everoot, when they tried to seize what they had no right to control, it destroyed them. As magic always will when handled improperly.”
“You’re speaking too quickly, Sleepwalker,” Allavin said, shaking his head. “We’ve heard of Sol-don-Orai. At least I have. My understanding is that a great drought destroyed it five hundred years ago.”
“No,” Jaerod said. “Those who remember what happened to her were too ashamed to speak the truth.” He looked over at Thealos. “Except the Shae. Obviously Thealos is too young to have ever known of her. But your elcorrel knew Sol-don-Orai, and the Quickfellow name was known there.” He looked back to Allavin. “In the Watchpost of Citadellian, there are records dating back dozens of Silvan years. They describe the empire, though briefly. Landmoor was closest to Sol-don-Orai.” He stepped around a chair, his back towards them. “This Empire discovered too late what happens when Earth magic is controlled that should not be. As strong a gift as the magic is, it is also a curse. You see, if you deprive Everoot of water for more than a few days, it withers and dries. Its husk becomes a poison.” He turned back, his eyes dark with anger. “Deathbane. As vicious in death as any poison to be found in nature. Metal is powerless against it. The rust and decay it causes make an armored horseman a casualty more than a strength.” His eyes flickered to Sturnin Goff. “Arrows were made of the stuff. And entire legions of cavalry were hewn down like grass.