Grok Strongarm's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Grok sat across from the small creature on the gold chair. The ropes hung above them. He could not cut the great tree without dropping his companion's pen. He had come to fell the whole forest. Now he could not swing his axe at all. He rubbed his head and stared at the dirt. Then the ground shook. Grok jumped up and grabbed his axe. A shape rose between the trees. It stood taller than Grok, and its body was made of wood. Bark covered its arms. Green leaves grew at its shoulders. A robe of green hung over its trunk. Two eyes glowed white in a face of carved wood. Roots dragged behind it as it walked. This was the king of the trees. Grok had felled dozens of his subjects. Now the king had come for the man who dropped them. The creature on the gold chair went still. It gripped the arms with its little hands and did not speak. The tree king stopped in front of Grok. His branches creaked. "You cut my trees," he said. "Twelve today. Many before." "Grok needs the land," Grok said. "My friend needs oil. Needs supplies." "Your need is not my problem." The king raised one wooden hand. "You cut. So we fight. This is war." Roots burst from the ground around Grok's feet. They wrapped his legs and pulled. Grok roared and swung the axe. The blade bit into a root and split it. Sap sprayed his chest. More roots came. One caught his wrist and squeezed until his fingers loosened. Grok twisted free and charged. He drove his shoulder into the king's trunk. The king staggered back into the great tree. The ropes above them jerked. The pen swung far overhead. Grok looked up and froze. If he broke the king against that tree, the pen would fall. The king saw him look. He understood. "Ah," he said. "You fear the ropes too." Grok lowered the axe. His arms burned. He would not risk his friend to win. He stepped back and set the blade in the dirt. "Grok stops," he said. "Grok will not fight here." The king held still. His white eyes studied the man. Then his roots pulled back into the ground. "You spared the great tree," he said. "So I spare you. Today." He turned and walked into the forest. His last words came back through the trees. "But the war is not done. Cut one more, and I bring the whole forest down on you." Then he was gone. Grok stood alone with the small creature and the empty gold chair. His plan lay broken at his feet. He could not fell the forest now, not with the king watching every trunk. He picked up his axe and stared at the trees around him. To help his friend, he would have to face the king again. And next time, the whole forest would come.