Woldborn: Fiction by Andrew Beach

Woldborn By Andrew Beach

Baldur hauled another rock into the secluded clearing. It was filled with rocks, stones and boulders he had pulled in over… a long time now; he was not a young man anymore.

Often he would just carve the rocks when and where he needed them. Here though he had collected together interesting rocks which he sometimes carved, but sometimes he left them waiting for some inspiration to show him how to shape it.

Most of his carvings were of one or another mystic variety. Whither it was a standing stone, connecting locations with mystic paths for easy paths or a Wold, a guardian of stone and wood animated by energies channeled through glyphs carved on their surface.

Still this one he had now was on the verge of showing him how to shape it. He stat down and looked at the stone. It was defiantly part of something larger, something more than the wandering stones that defended the clearing and all of the druid’s land. Still, what was it exactly?

As he looked at a shape started to form in his mind. It was vague and unfinished but he got up and started shaping the stone just a few chips here and there at first, then larger pieces as the image started to sharpen. When he had finished he stepped back and took a good look at his handy work.

It was a head, but bigger than any head he had carved out before. The shape was different too although it was similar to the classic Wold Guardian. It would need a body of course… and he had yet to add the glyphs that would channel the power from within the stone.

He had crafted a great number of stone creations over the years. From shifting stones to Woldwardens there were few who could craft them with the same skill he did and none of which were alive today.

Still this one called for something more. Something more than the same sets of glyphs and bundles of dead wood.

That reminded Baldur of an idea he had had before, what if he used living wood, an actual tree instead of just sticks and branches. Still a regular tree wouldn’t do, and although rising a tree from the fertile soil of the forest would be easy, keeping it there long enough to carve a Wold around it would be difficult.

Baldur looked around his glade until he found a chest sized piece of stone that had the right feel for what he was doing. He carved it into three stake shaped pieces, each the size of an arm. On to their sides he carved a pattern of glyphs that he hadn’t used since he was learning his trade.

He drove the three “tree stones” into the ground in a triangle. Then he called forth the energy resting in the soil. A single tree grew from the ground, growing branches and sprouting leaves in a matter of seconds.

As he realized his hold on the tree the tree stones took over and prevented the tree from returning to the soil.

Baldur took the newly carved head and placed it in a nook near the top of the tree. It looked rather silly there, all by itself but as the days went by and Baldur added more pieces it looked more and more like a man of wood and stone.

The hardest part was getting the tree into a proper shape. No naturally formed tree could have the right shape for a Wold. Sticks and branches could be tied together to form the right shape but to do that with a living tree would require a different method.

For days Baldur would carve out parts of the stone body out of granite and try to shape the tree into the proper shape. The stones came easily, if slowly. He had studied the mysterious power of the earth in great depth and as he considered the advantages and disadvantages of different Wold designs a precise plan formed in his mind of each stone that would be used in the Wold.

The tree on the other hand was not part of Baldur’s expertise. He could cause it to grow and with the help of the tree stones he could keep it there indefinitely. Still shaping tree into the form of a man was difficult. Baldur hacked away at the branches around the head to make room for the shoulders. It took countless hours of chipping and re-growing to get the truck to split into two parts to create the legs.

After many days of work (he could not say how many for he soon forgot to count them) he had finished the initial caving of the stone body, needing only to add the animating glyphs.

He assembled pieces of stone around the tree, sometimes calling on an older Wold to do some of the heavy lifting. The largest pieces where held in place by a pair of Woldwardens as he tied them in place with vine made ropes.

After he had all the pieces of stone in place, Baldur traveled to one of the Circle’s stores and took two orbs of polished beryl. These were usually used as foci for Woldwyrds and Woldstalkers and they would serve a similar purpose in the new Wold.

In the back of each hand there was a space for each of the orbs. Baldur set them into their slots. They would channel power through the Wold’s hands, binding whoever they struck to the ground in the same what Baldur’s stone sword would.

Then Baldur began the long process of making the stone body and the battered tree underneath truly one piece. Currently the wood was structurally united with the stone but they lacked a mystic connection that would allow the wood to survive once the roots were severed.

The largest part of binding the two together turned out to be meditating by the tree; feeling the energy of Orboros flow through the ground and the trees and amplifying it just a bit to help the tree grow into the holes in the stone seamlessly. But there were many other things that Baldur did to help the binding. He carved groves into the wood, shaping the wood to mimic paths the animating energy would take once the Wold lived. He also removed pieces of stone and added groves on the inside to give the wood a titter grip.

Perhaps most importantly he added the glyphs that channeled the hidden power within the stone. Baldur new every glyph used in every stone construct created by Circle stone carvers. He also understood each one at an unequaled level. That knowledge guided him, unwaveringly, to carve a pattern that covered every section of the Wold.

Weeks past before Baldur was satisfied with how the wood and stone had bound together. The glyphs and structure were also finished. All that remained was to activate the construct.

Standing stones would just be left in an appropriate piece of ground and they would start to “live”. Wolds required something else.

So Baldur went out hunting. Now for all his druidic knowledge his hunting ability was not great. Eventually however he was able to track and fell a stag with a burst of stone.

He took vines and drenched them in the blood of the dying animal. Some people still preferred a great ritual sacrifice but Baldur was content to get the living blood and put the animal out of its misery as soon as possible.

When he returned to the clearing he rapped the bloody vines around wooden sections of the Wold. These were not for support but instead would bring the bit of life needed to get the Wold moving.

Baldur was rapping one around the slot between the head and the shoulders when he caught his finger on a sliver that he had created in his endless wood carving. He looked at the wound, although it was bleeding the blood on his hands from the vines were more significant and with his druidic abilities it was healed within a minute.

It took almost a day for a Wold animated in this way to awaken so Baldur cooked himself a supper with the stag’s meat; which made a welcome change from the groves fruit he had been eating for so long while he worked. Then he went to sleep, exhausted by many long day’s work.

*        *        *

Baldur woke suddenly from his sleep. He could feel a presence on his mind and he knew what it was almost immediately.

Illuminated by the moon and the light of glowing glyphs carved into its body the Wold turned and walked towards Baldur. When it stopped he could see roots sprout from its feet and sink into the ground. But his attention was immediately drawn up to the glowing eyes. Baldur had seen the light of many Wold eyes and this seemed different in some slight way. They seemed alive and thoughtful, more than any other.

Many names had crossed Baldur’s mind as he had carved shaped and designed the Wold but now only one seemed appropriate.

“You are Megalith,” Baldur said aloud.

Megalith would be a Wold unmatched in many regards. Every element of Baldur’s design came together to play its part in the overall whole. If there was one thing Baldur could not explain, it was how it managed to show up when he got in trouble or how that healing energy to knit his wounds worked its way from it to him.

But then, he had forgotten the cut that spilt his own blood onto the living wood and stone.