by Neil Beynon
‘How did your face wind up like that?’ asked Anya, looking directly at the ferryman. The scimitar in his hand was very familiar: Shaanti design, Escanti blade.
The ferryman replied, ‘I was killed, but the Morrigan would not let me pass over, could not bear to let me go. She cannot hold off death forever, but she can keep souls here until near the end, when she, too, must take the journey.’
His sword hung from his hand with no power, just despair. He pointed at the Tream.
‘This one’s kind did this to me. In life I was a god, and now I’m less than nothing.’
Anya closed her eyes. She had known he looked familiar to her. ‘What’s your name?’
‘You know my name, Anya,’ said the ferryman, weary. ‘I heard you speak it in the forest. That is why I came to help you.’
‘Say your name!’
‘In life I was Bres. Now I am simply the ferryman.’
‘And what would you have of me, Bres?’ asked Anya.
The use of the ferryman’s name seemed to rock the dead man. He dropped his sword.
‘I thought … I wanted to feel alive … but …’
‘You can’t ask for such a thing,’ coughed Akyar, spitting bright green blood onto the shingle. ‘Life is not a feeling. Life is there or life is not.’
The ferryman stopped. The wind whipped across the land, leaving his eyes glistening in the faux sunset.
‘You’re wrong.’
The former god turned, sank to the shingle and placed his head in his hands.
Akyar looked away, his face unreadable, but Anya stepped forward, at first hesitant and then with purpose. She stopped at the ferryman’s side. He smelt faintly of rotting flesh.
‘Bres,’ she said. The ferryman turned the ruined side of his face from her.
‘Please, just leave me alone,’ said Bres, seeing the look on her face. ‘I don’t want your pity.’
Anya cupped the ruined side of his head gently with her hand and turned his face to hers. ‘It’s not life you want, now is it? You want rest.’
The ferryman looked at her with tears streaming. He nodded.
The kiss was soft and gentle – Anya was afraid of hurting him. At first he tried to pull away, but after a moment he returned the kiss. When their lips parted, Anya rested her forehead on Bres’s for a moment and spoke words that only the ferryman could hear. She kissed his forehead and turned away from him.
Akyar tried to talk to her, but the wind screamed out from all directions, knocking the three travellers to their knees and casting a maelstrom around the ferryman.
‘What did you do?’ yelled Vedic.
Anya did not answer. This wasn’t the wisest thing she had ever done, nor the kindest, but it was the right thing to do, and though she wasn’t sure how this would end, there was no shame. The woodsman wouldn’t understand.
The ferryman smiled at her through the dust storm. He lifted his hands to his chest in a gesture of thanks, stiffened, closed his eyes and fell apart into the violence of the dust and ash. The storm streamed across the cavern in the direction of the road, marking their way, and then all was silent.
‘That let the Morrigan know exactly where we are,’ said Vedic, glaring at Anya. He stomped past her in the direction of the dust cloud.
Anya stared at the path the god had taken. What had she done?
Akyar paused by her. ‘What cant did you use? Will that work on the Morrigan?’
Anya laughed. It was bitter. ‘I’m sorry. I am no mage, and I have no idea what just happened.’
‘Then what did you say?’
‘I told him the Shaanti had forgotten him,’ she said, ‘but that I remembered and that he should go to rest now because he had done his work. Bres just wanted a connection with someone.’
Akyar put his hand on her shoulder. ‘That was well done, Lady Anya. Now, let us move on and see our own work through.’
Chapter Twenty
They walked for hours.
The hills reached out to encircle them, hiding the rivers, the Acheron and the Styx. The trio had walked on in silence, conscious that time and water were in short supply. They all wanted to find the boy as quickly as possible and get out of this place. This had less to do with freeing Danu or returning Meyr and more to do with the inherent wrongness of Golgotha. As the faux night settled once more, the strange noises, the clicks and screams and howls, resumed. The Golgothan chorus had stopped making any of them jump. They were resigned to their march.
‘Thank you,’ said Anya to Akyar.
‘For what?’ asked Akyar, falling into step alongside her.
‘For trying to help,’ replied Anya, looking down to ensure she didn’t trip over the bones that littered the ground. Anya wasn’t sure what had happened when they made land, but she was seeing her grandfather and Fin less now.
‘I did little,’ said Akyar, his eyes on the woodsman ahead. ‘I thought he was going to take you away.’
‘So did I,’ replied Anya. She didn’t want to think about what the ferryman – she couldn’t think of him as Bres – could have demanded.
‘What made you talk to him?’
‘Desperation. I thought he was going to kill you.’
The Tream chuckled. ‘As did I for a moment or two. How did you recognise him?’
Anya thought back. Had she recognised him? Was it just a sense that he had not revealed his full story? She saw the large curved blade in her mind’s eye. ‘It was the scimitar. There is a … there was a picture in my grandfather’s house, a scene from his fall, and he carried that sword.’
They walked on.
‘I’d have spoken to him anyway. I’d have given him a boon because I did promise and so a debt was owed.’
‘You’d have …?’
‘No,’ said Anya. ‘He wasn’t asking for what you think. Creatures down here, according to legend, can take life from those who still live.’
‘How?’
Anya shook her head. ‘The myths are full of different versions – blood, breath, touch … I would not have agreed.’
‘You’d have fought?’
She nodded.
If your hands could have stopped shaking, her mother’s voice hissed in her head. Anya ignored the words as best she could.
‘I think, perhaps,’ said Akyar, ‘I should be thanking you.’
Anya smiled. ‘Not a bad team, are we?’
Akyar nodded. ‘Although one member seems to wish he was on his own.’
Anya watched the woodsman march. It was hardly surprising that he wanted to get out of Golgotha as fast as possible – they all did. For Vedic, this was a drive that was forcing him to ignore everything else.
‘You worried?’ she asked Akyar.
‘Yes, I’m worried for Meyr – he’s young and he’s been gone a long time now.’
Anya smiled. ‘You care for the child a lot.’
‘He is the son of my two best friends,’ said Akyar pulling his cloak closer around him.
‘But you think of him as your own,’ said Anya, placing a hand on his arm. ‘I can tell. When my mother went away, my grandfather’s friend Falkirk looked after me as much as my grandfather. I often saw the same look on his face as you have now.’
‘What happened to your mother?’ asked Akyar, smiling at her. Anya thought there was a hint of sadness in that smile, but she did not press.
‘I don’t really know,’ Anya shrugged. ‘She left. My grandfather and Falkirk were parents for me. I was lucky. The Shaanti clans in the border towns can be quite judgemental over broken families, but my grandparents’ reputation protected me from all that.’
Grandfather’s drinking – not so much, she thought, hating herself for it.
‘Didn’t you ever want to seek her out?’
‘Not really,’ said Anya. This was the first time she had ever lied to Akyar. The falsehood sat uncomfortably with her. She pressed on. ‘She left because she said something was missing and she needed to find it. I’m not sure I want a per
son who can abandon a child in my life. What about you?’
‘I’ve never met your mother,’ said Akyar, trying to lift the mood.
Anya smiled a little. ‘What’s your story? How did you wind up vizier?’ How did you fall in love with Pan?
Akyar looked ahead. The Tream seemed tired and older than he had when she had first met him in what felt like another life.
‘I was appointed by Hogarth’s father,’ said Akyar. ‘Hogarth kept his promise to keep me in the position – this was the only condition of his father. Hogarth is a Tream of his word. And a good friend.’
‘You sound more like you’re trying to convince yourself than the girl,’ said Vedic, calling back. ‘What’s wrong? Is your friend giving you pause for thought?’
Anya could have cheerfully knifed her forestal for that barb, nerves or not, but the woodsman seemed oblivious. He marched on.
‘Vedic is right. Hogarth is on a path to war that I wish to stop him going down, because the butcher’s bill from wars past has been far too high. He sees the Morrigan’s actions as evidence we should have finished what we started millennia ago, that the forest will not be safe while human gods are allowed to live in it.’
‘Why?’ asked Anya.
‘Lots of reasons,’ said Akyar. ‘We aren’t that different from you. We suffer from pride, fear and an overwhelming urge to leave our mark on the world. The provocation from the Morrigan is extreme – his only son. But ultimately his belief, which he has had as long as I have known him, is that the forest was vast before the humans came, and since then it’s become smaller and smaller. Humans destroy. Gods are the fuel.’
They walked on. Yet you think so much of Pan that his death … possible death … caused you physical pain. Anya did not understand this inherent contradiction, and this made her feel younger than she would care to admit.
‘You’ve known him a long time?’
‘Hogarth?’
She nodded.
‘Oh aye,’ he said. ‘I’ve known Hogarth nearly as long as I’ve known Jiana.’
‘How long is that?’
‘Jiana? Since birth,’ replied Akyar, nodding. ‘I think her parents thought we’d marry one day, but neither of us found that an appealing idea.’
‘I’m surprised myself,’ said Anya. ‘You seem to care for each other.’
Akyar laughed. ‘Be like marrying my sister.’
The sunset, or whatever passed for the equivalent in Golgotha, was beginning to happen, sickly hues of orange began to increase, offering a vision of what lay beyond the iron-tinged darkness. The soil underfoot was becoming thinner, and the ground beneath them crunched more and more with the sound of collapsing bone. At first those sounds were sickening and irregular. Then they grew more frequent, and the group became almost used to the rhythmic crunch of their march across Golgotha. Anya could not decide which was worse – the sound or the fact they barely noticed any more.
‘Why did Hogarth believe that Danu had taken the boy?’ asked Anya, as much to break the silence as anything else.
He is keeping a secret, came her mother’s voice in her head.
‘It was my fault,’ said Akyar.
‘How so?’ Anya could feel the woodsman slowing in the distance to hear. For someone who could sneak up on you as if he were a wraith blown from smoke, he could be remarkably unsubtle on occasion.
You like him, came the disapproving voice of her mother.
Not like that, she hissed back.
‘I first went to court when I was a boy to apprentice under the old vizier, Omar,’ said Akyar. ‘I remember being astounded at the freedom that was given Hogarth. It’s true he was not the heir to the throne then – his older brother had that distinction – but even so, Hogarth was indulged by his father and his brother alike.
‘I remember the day I first arrived at the palace. The vizier Omar came out to greet me, but I don’t think I heard a word he said – I just couldn’t get over the size and age of the palace. He was so amused by my reaction he had me talk to the palace that day, and that turned out to be one of the smartest things he ever did for me. I was hooked. That tree has stood for three thousand years. The things it has witnessed …’
He shook his head and continued. ‘I met Hogarth in the small amounts of free time I was given, often out in the forest, where he liked to roam, and occasionally when he was in the palace, spending time with Utah, his older brother. Utah was a quiet but wise Tream; he would have been a good king.’
‘Why didn’t he become king?’ asked Anya.
Akyar’s expression became serious. ‘We are coming to that. Anyway, Hogarth roamed the woods far and wide, with no regard for the gods’ territory. I still think he knows the woods better than any Tream alive. He lived for hunting. I went with him on occasion and was shocked by how far he would follow game, tracking them right up to the gods’ lake and the glade. Even then I think he cared little for the gods and humanity. Certainly, he didn’t adhere to the peace treaty.
‘One day,’ he said, kicking the ground, ‘Hogarth went off on his own. I was supposed to go with him, but he was insistent on hunting a doe he had seen that had eluded him. I find hunting dull. Instead, I went to the archive, to the oldest sections, which are forbidden because the trees are mad, and began looking at the Jeylin archives. No one knew I was still in Tream territory until after nightfall, when Hogarth had not returned.’
‘Did the gods capture him?’ asked Anya.
Akyar appeared not to hear. He was lost in thought. The wind had picked up a little, and Anya had to raise her jerkin to cover her mouth against it. Vedic was only a step or two in front now, hanging on the Tream’s words.
‘I was brought before the king,’ said Akyar. ‘He was angrier than I had ever seen him, demanding to know how long Hogarth had been flouting the treaties for and where he had gone hunting. I kept nothing back, because I feared for his life as much as the king and Utah. I did stress that I thought he was independently minded and had most likely found the trail of the doe and was determined to have his quarry. I did that much. But it wasn’t enough.
‘Utah ignored his father’s wishes.’ Akyar sighed. ‘He had that much in common with his brother. He went out looking for Hogarth – children are precious to the Tream because we are long-lived but reproduce slowly, if at all, and brothers and sisters are rare. Utah was not the woodsman that his brother was.’
‘The quest went ill for Utah?’ asked Vedic.
Akyar nodded. ‘As I predicted, Hogarth wandered back into the city at sunrise the next day, doe over his shoulders and a look of surprise at all the fuss. His emotion turned to alarm when he realised Utah was gone, and rage when his father stopped him from going to look for him. I understand why he stopped Hogarth, but it was the wrong decision, because if anyone could have found him, it was the young prince.’
‘They thought the gods took him?’ asked Anya.
Akyar nodded again. ‘And they sent me to negotiate with them.’
‘You must have been quite young,’ said Vedic.
‘I was,’ said Akyar, with a wry smile. ‘And fair too, believe it or not. This mission was Omar’s idea. I think he thought I would fail and the gods would abuse me for my temerity in approaching them. I had undermined him by going into the forbidden archives and not going insane. I had begun to learn things that he himself could not manage to get from the archives. I think the king had an idea in mind, though, that Omar was blind to, and I think even then he thought I would be a good vizier. Even kings make mistakes.
‘The wood was falling on autumn when I left for the glade. No one but Hogarth, Omar and the king knew I was going. I was forbidden from discussing it with anyone, including Jiana, who had only recently come to court herself.
‘When I arrived, there were no beauties to greet me, no sun-soaked picture of paradise to seduce me. Indeed, the rains had come; the lake was overflowing; and everything was covered in fresh mud, including me. Pan met me on the far side, suspicious bordering
on hostile, and denying any knowledge of Utah.
‘I was brought into Danu’s presence only once, just after I had arrived, Pan hurriedly drying me with his magic. I did not see her face. She wanted to communicate with me directly that they had not been involved in the disappearance of Utah. She gave Pan to me to help find him as a sign of her good faith.’
‘Where did you find him?’ asked Vedic.
Akyar looked older than the earth at this. Anya thought the Tream was not going to continue, but after a few steps, he did. It was as if a knot were loosening within him and he had to tell someone, anyone, what he knew.
‘He was dead when we found him,’ said Akyar. ‘No one other than Pan knows it. We found him two weeks later, wedged in a gully near the northern border of the forest. It appeared he had been gored by a giant stag or a creature with similar-sized horns. Pan swore that no god could have done this; there were none in the forest. I thought I could trust his word on this. But we had a dangerous situation for both sides – the heir had been found in the gods’ territory, dead and as the result of an attack.’
‘That would have meant war,’ said Anya. ‘Even with a measured king like Hogarth’s father, it still might.’
Akyar nodded. ‘I persuaded Pan to bury him where he could never be found, deep, deep down where the soil meets the crystalline rock beneath the forest. I left a mark that only he or I would know, should we need to ever find the place again. And I returned home a week later and told the king we had been aided by the gods but found nothing.
‘He was grateful, and a month later he made Hogarth heir. They mourned. They moved on. They are Tream. Hogarth was the only one who didn’t really believe that his brother had just gone missing, that it was not possible to find him still. He would sneak out looking in the early days but could only roam so far without his father noticing that he was gone. Utah was the only thing we fought about. Hogarth wanted to go to war, and I wouldn’t support him. I believe that is why, when Omar died a year later, I was made vizier younger than any other Tream. The king thought my ability to stand up to Hogarth would keep his impetuous son safe.’