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Conclave

The All-Father awoke, though not all at once. He stretched his boughs, which creaked with age. How long have I slumbered, he wondered. Centuries? Longer? He felt so thirsty, the river he drew life from having seemingly diverted some time ago. He raised a massive leg, made of entwined roots, and with excessive care put it back down, making sure not to crush anything beneath. He lumbered, getting used to the feeling of moving again. It had been so long since he felt the gently breeze rustle his leaves, to feel fauna crawl up and down his bark and through his branches. His bark strained at movement, weak with age. I don’t have much time left, he contemplated. He felt the millennia of life take its toll on him as he gazed at all he had called home. A great Ark, 9000 kilometres long, as living and breathing as those who live within its walls. There had been many, long ago, when their creators first planted them. Hundreds of Arks, all following the leylines as intended. But those that came before turned to stardust, and the Conclave became dissident. He remembered when he was but a young sapling, the last time the Arks came together as a forest, to discuss their destiny. It had always been their way to nurture and preserve, but we must act like the seasons, they said. Ever shifting, ever changing. The leylines are waning, they argued, and we must ensure that we do not. Many abandoned their Arks, their lifeblood, to settle on planets that day. Away from the gentle chorus and whispers of the Ark they became sedentary. Alive, but as though in stasis.

He came to the banks of the river, and dug his roots deep into the rich soil. That was so long ago. Their first schism. But there would be more. He noticed short fungal creatures skittering along the riverbank. How strange, these Gulge. A collection of tens of different species, all forming a symbiotic bond into a single creature. There had been much contention about them. Ruiners, the others warned. Renewers, he argued. Seasons, he mused. What were life and death but seasons. And in such a font of life, they needed something to continue the cycle. He raised his arm, and saw the fungus growing up his trunk. They knew when a new source of nutrients was going to become available soon. He felt a small tendril patting him on the leg, and saw a lone Gulge mournfully staring up at him, as though apologising for the inevitable. The All-Father slowly bent down, and carefully scooped the Gulge up in his branch. With a little flourish, he brought up his other arm, and with a gentle chuckle, sprouted a small lily and offered it to the Gulge. With exaggerated care, he then put it with the rest on his side. If I must return to the Ark, he mused, I will do so with grace.

With his thirst sated, he continued his journey towards the heart of the Ark. Why had he awoken? Why now? He met others of his kind along the journey, and they all bowed their great trunks in respect for their elder. None understood, but they felt that something was odd. The soothing voice in the back of their great minds raced. Some continued their work on maintaining their great ship, while some of the more curious followed the All-Father on his pilgrimage. Finally, he reached the great amber heart, and gently placed his forehead on it. The clouds of thought in his mind parted, and like the rays of the sun a voice pierced his mind.

The leylines grow strong once more.

The All-Father stiffened. This could only mean great change. The seasons of the galaxy had finally returned to their favour.

The others are returning.

The others. Some had left the galaxy in search of new meaning. No doubt their Arks had sensed this too. Their relations had been strained, but that was before this news.

There’s something outside. Something trying to speak.

Something… Outside? Had life adapted to survive the void as the Arks had? Suddenly the Ark spoke with a different voice. An image of a short, squat humanoid with a long beard appeared on screen. With a gruff voice fitting the figure, it spoke.

“This is the merchant ship ‘Treasure Trove of Exciting Knickknacks at Affordable Prices’. Is there anyone on there?” The figure turned to face away. “Crivens lads, I ain’t never seen a tree this large. Think of how much we could flog it for if nobody comes to claim it. Daven, check the net for prices of redwood.”

A strange feeling washed over the All-Father. Was it joy at life finding its way to the stars as they had? Confusion as to how he could understand this strange creature? Curiosity as to how it evolved, if there were more of them? Or… Fear. Fear that there was life that they did not know or understand. He thought long of how to respond, and finally projected a thought back to the ship outside.

We are the Conclave. We’re here to make the galaxy flourish once more.