The Proving of Champions, Chapter 14

Alexei stood, a pale gray shadow before the looming, twisting, and thorny mass of the Jungle's Gate. When he entered the jungle, he had come through in flight, alone and starving. He had seen the mushrooms as only a food source, and he had seen Fleta as a guide through the alien world and as someone to protect. The gate had only been a brief, shadowy presence behind him. Only a few days ago, he left the troubles of the Deathless Faire behind him, and his needs and purpose had been simple. Now, the troubles of a few days had swelled and knotted until they consumed his vision much like the gate he stood before.

In the darkness of dawn, before the sun rose and pierced the canopy with spears of light, Alexei took a deep breath to focus his mind and quiet the voices. He studied the massive aphotic outline, broken by thorns and branches, and he felt the prickle of eyes upon his back. Worse than the itching expectations of the group behind him was the weight of souls. He felt the weight of a dozen living souls from camp added to the burden of the twelve souls inside of him as he stepped into the gate's alcove and traced the runes above the small opening.

"The eye with no pupil, that's the one that lit up when you came through," Fleta said, sitting a couple of paces back on the smooth, worn, boot-polished roots of the clearing before the gate.

Alexei touched the icon of the eye. "Deathless Faire. Open," he said. Nothing happened.

Terrell, Daralis, Marina, and Bertram clumped behind the two, straddling the line between close observation and oppressive distraction. Wellkris, Lorens, and two scouts watched thirty paces off to shout a warning if a creature should attack.

"Perhaps it was Fleta who opened the gate," Bertram thought aloud, tilting his head and tapping fingers to thumb. "Try repeating what you did when Alexei came through."

Very, very slowly, Fleta grabbed her pack, the rush of red to her cheeks hidden in the shadows of early morning. She began to rifle through her belongings in an imaginary hunt for seeds. The snap of canvas from Fleta's pack was a muted, faint sound compared to the piercing whoops of chimera and the cries of early morning birds. She shook it at the arch. "Home, you feckless... arch! Open, useless lumber!" Then she dropped into a heap. Daralis and Bertram snickered, though Bertram had the decency to muffle his behind a hand.

"Perhaps we should give them some space," Marina said softly. "It appears we have more rowers than oars at the moment. Bertram, Terrell, I have an idea I would like to discuss with you." Marina guided the Thorgarick skald and Volcat champion towards one of the scouts. Daralis shadowed them, lips level, brow relaxed, slowly unclenching her jaw.

Fleta and Alexei stared at each other in the same position they had first met. Fleta sighed, and Alexei shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Alexei said.

"For what?" Fleta asked.

"For not opening the gate," Alexei frowned. "I wish there were another way."

"That's like apologizing that you can't make the sky green," Fleta said.

Alexei looked up at the dawning canopy. He waved upwards with his two right arms. The early dawn light washed across the tops of the highest leaves and painted the sky in luminescent green and pink.

"You know what I mean," Fleta said. "And what do you mean, you wish there were another way?"

"We will have to fight the tarasque," Alexei said quietly. "If you need a sword, I will be your sword."

"What? No, no. I really gave that idea a shot at the meeting. And everyone turned it down," Fleta said. "And they are right because we have no way to kill the tarasque. You said yourself that you couldn't stand up to it again. It would be great if we could put the thing down and maybe make peace with the colonies. But we can't. So we'll just have to find another way."

"Fleta, this is important," Alexei said. "If you need a sword, I will be your sword."

"What does that even mean?" Fleta asked.

"It means what it says."

"Okay, so you will be my sword. What do you want from me?"

"Just that."  Alexei grew quiet, examining the purple mushrooms. They were small, only the size of a finger, sprouting in the dust caught in crannies around the base of the arch. Purple was rare, striking. Alien. The jungle was green and brown, with fallen leaves turning yellow and orange. Blossoms opened in warm hues, as well as the bright azure flowers that reflected the sky and tracked the sun. Velvet navy charcoal covered the brighter colors at night. Alexei couldn't remember purple caps even among the colonies at the great meeting inside the tree. These small mushrooms were a mystery hidden in the shadow of the alien Gate.

Fleta watched him consider the gate mushrooms. "What happened when you ate the mushrooms?" She asked.

Alexei looked up. "Consent."

"Consent?" Fleta's eyebrows jumped in confusion. 

Alexei nodded.

Feta sighed again. "Alexei, what does that mean?"