by Darius Hinks
Orion hesitated, sensing that there was unresolved business between them – some bond he could not place.
‘Orion,’ said Ariel, her voice sounding hollow. She was staring at his chest. ‘This is no time for false pride.’
He looked down and saw that the dragon’s teeth had torn him apart. There was a gaping hole between his ribs that created a window on the bleached landscape beyond. There was also the tip of a tooth, several inches thick, embedded deep below his right shoulder. There were several other places where his torso had been broken. It looked as though one bad fall would cause his whole body to collapse.
‘You must remain whole if you mean to return,’ said the wardancer.
‘I have to return!’ snapped Orion. ‘I must reach Sativus.’
The youth’s eyes widened, then he nodded. ‘Sativus. Of course.’ He turned to the crowds racing towards them. They were only seconds away. ‘If we do not move now, they will destroy you. You will never see Sativus again.’
Orion looked furious. ‘Then lead the way!’
The youth moved with incredible speed, racing along the avenues in a bewildering, convoluted dance of lefts and rights. As he led them through the Endless Vale, it became a blur of silver and grey and, over time, it began to change, as though the wardancer were moulding it somehow with his movements. As the wardancer weaved and looped around the featureless trunks, they glimpsed flashes of pale blue overhead and patches of dun brown underfoot.
The whispers began to fade as they left the dead behind. Orion was comforted to realise that only the voices in his head remained – the cryptic utterances that had haunted him since his birth in the Oak of Ages.
After a long time, the wardancer finally came to a halt and turned to face them. ‘The spirit you fought was Tamarix,’ he said. ‘One of the great drakes.’
Orion was momentarily distracted by his surroundings. Now that they were still, he could see that the desolate landscape had almost entirely vanished. Bone had been replaced by heather and stunted clumps of grass. It was dusk and open fields lay before them, glittering with frost.
He did not catch the youth’s comment about Tamarix and said, ‘Is it so easy for the rootless dead to escape their hell? Why do they beg and plead so pitifully if it is possible to simply race back to the forest?
The wardancer shook his head. ‘There is no escape, my lord.’ He stepped into a patch of moonlight and it passed through him. ‘I am shadow and mist, nothing more.’ He gave them a sad smile. ‘I could lead you to the world, if I chose, but I cannot join you in it.’ He held up one of his hands and Orion saw that it was growing fainter by the second.
‘You could lead us back to the world?’ Orion frowned and looked across the starlit fields. ‘Surely you already have?’
Ariel shook her head. ‘Look at yourself.’
Orion looked down and realised that his body was still a pale, dusty shell, crumbling in the places where the dragon had crushed him. He stepped further into the field and realised that, as he did so, his flesh, like the wardancer’s, was beginning to fade.
‘What do you want of me?’ he demanded, rounding on the wardancer. ‘You must know that I cannot grant you freedom. The manner of your death has severed your soul from the world. Only the gods could alter your fate.’
The youth stepped closer to Orion. ‘The gods have brought you to me, my king. I knew you would come.’
As he looked into the wardancer’s wide, haunted eyes, Orion felt another wave of inexplicable guilt.
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Jokleel. You do not know me, but my blood is on your hands.’
Orion tensed, but before he could reply, Jokleel continued.
‘I am not here to accuse you, or to seek revenge. I am here to ask that you redress an imbalance.’
To Orion’s horror, he noticed that his flesh was fading faster and, as it did so, the blue of the sky was changing to a featureless white.
Jokleel nodded. ‘You do not have long to decide, my lord. Will you aid me or not?’
‘I cannot free you,’ snapped Orion. ‘Your soul has been sundered from the Eternal Realms. Not even I can–’
‘I do not seek freedom for myself,’ interrupted Jokleel. ‘I seek it for my brother.’
‘Your brother?’
‘His soul is as sundered as mine, but his flesh is still whole. The Wild Hunt destroyed him as effectively as it did me, but he still lingers in the mortal realm.’ The pain in Jokleel’s eyes grew. ‘I can bear my fate, my lord, but I cannot bear his. He is walking a dark, dark path, and he is doing it in my name.’ Jokleel’s voice trembled. ‘And it will not stop there. Others will join him. I have seen it. Other souls will be lost in my name.’ He grabbed Orion’s arm. ‘I beg you, my lord – save him from his fate. I cannot endure the pain of his fall. I cannot be the reason for it.’
Orion glanced at Ariel in confusion. He had expected a plea for freedom, but not this. He looked back at Jokleel. ‘And if I swear to save your brother?’
Jokleel’s eyes filled with hope. ‘If you swear to save Finavar from himself, I will lead you back to the Eternal Realms now, and direct you to Sativus.’
‘Finavar?’ Orion wrenched himself free of Jokleel’s grip and stared at him. ‘I know that name.’
‘The Darkling Prince?’ asked Ariel.
Jokleel nodded. ‘We called him that, yes.’ He laughed, but it was a pitiful sound. ‘It was a joke. There was never anything dark about my brother. He was light and life. But now the name is all too accurate.’ Jokleel looked at Ariel and Orion in turn. ‘He seeks to destroy you.’
They stared back at him.
Jokleel ran a brittle tongue over his dusty lips. ‘He believes he must avenge my death and end your rule.’
‘Then he is a fool.’ There was no rage in Orion’s voice, it was simply a statement of fact. ‘We are aspects of the gods.’
‘Will you swear to save him?’
Orion frowned. ‘You wish me to aid my would-be killer?’
‘I wish you to save him from himself. And to save those who will follow him. His ideas will destroy either him or you, and I cannot have such deeds performed in my name.’
Orion shook his head, but Ariel nodded. ‘The Oak of Ages wills this, my love. It was clearly meant to be. We do not need Naieth to see that. You must do as Jokleel asks. There is an imbalance here that must be redressed.’
Jokleel nodded eagerly. ‘If you swear to save him, I will lead you to Sativus.’ He waved at their surroundings. The colours of the forest were fading fast and the rows of arrow-straight trunks were starting to appear all around them.
Orion tried to recall Finavar’s face. His memory was a bloody canvas, splattered with the tormented faces of spirits and mortals but, after a while, he saw the wild grin of the Darkling Prince. There was a fierce bravery in the wardancer, he realised, remembering how Finavar had dared to address him at the rites of spring, while the other celebrants were squirming in the grass. Perhaps by saving a soul like Finavar’s he could atone for his deeds of the summer?
‘I cannot guarantee his salvation,’ he said eventually, turning back to Jokleel. ‘I can only swear to do my best – to do all that is in my power to save him. Our fates are in the hands of the gods, Jokleel, whether they be Loec or Kurnous. If they have decided that your brother will fall into ruin, then I cannot oppose their will.’
‘But you will do all that you can?’
Orion nodded. ‘It would be an appropriate penance. I will try to save one who means me ill.’ He placed a hand over the shattered porcelain of his chest, touching the place where his oak apple heart should have been. ‘I swear to do all I can. If I can rescue the Darkling Prince by any means within my power, I will.’
Jokleel’s face was rigid with emotion. ‘Tell him I bear him no ill will. Tell him my fate is my own. Tell him I l
ove him.’
Orion nodded, then listened carefully as Jokleel directed him home.
They struggled on through the muddy grass, Orion leaning heavily on Ariel for support. The air was hazed with icy drizzle and the bandages Ariel had bound around Orion’s chest were dark with rain and blood. A wound made by a great drake was like no other. Ariel’s charms had proved powerless to stop the bleeding and, every time they stumbled, another gout poured from between his ribs. It was twilight when they finally reached the place Jokleel had described – a steep-sided hill, topped by a small wood and surrounded by miles of sodden fields.
Orion shivered under the sky’s frigid gaze. He felt naked and exposed. The forest was as diverse as it was vast and there were many open places contained within its waystone boundaries. Broad meadows and even regions of barren scrubland were not unknown, but Orion had never grown to trust them as he had the other corners of his kingdom. He loved the deep, creeping eventide of the forest – the gloomiest hollows, where shadows lurked within shadows; not these leafless spaces. His life was rushing from him in fast-flowing rivulets, but it was the expanse of rain-lashed field that troubled him more than anything else.
The sun was setting as they approached the summit and the trees threw spindly shadows out to meet them. The wood was no more than half a mile wide, but the trees were densely packed and, even with most of their leaves gone, they blocked out the sky. Orion relaxed a little as he entered their cool embrace.
They headed to the far side, as Jokleel had instructed, and soon found what they were looking for – a semicircle of raised earth that marked the remains of an ancient keep. There was no trace of stonework, the ruin was far too old for that, just a deep, muddy ditch and a raised path. The trees refrained from crossing the old boundary, as though respecting some immemorial promise, leaving a shallow bowl of grass and dead bracken.
They tramped down into the centre of the ruin and studied the surrounding trees.
‘What now?’ Orion dropped heavily to the ground, wincing at the pain. ‘Do we perform a rite? Must we summon him?’
Ariel did not reply for a moment. Her face was pale with worry and she was staring at Orion’s ruined body. His limbs were so frail and his muscles so withered, that he looked more like an old cripple than the Lord of the Wild Hunt. His eyes were clouded and his breath came in short gasps. She was sure Sativus could help cure his chest wounds, but she knew that would not save him. She held out her hand and felt how cold the rain was. The season of ice was nearly upon them.
‘Ariel,’ snapped Orion, enraged by the pity he saw in her face.
She took a deep breath and looked around, dragging her thoughts back to the present. ‘No, my love, there is no rite – no ritual. The forest directs us, by whatever means it chooses, and then we simply wait.’
Orion nodded. Cold was seeping into his bones – icy fingers from the sodden earth. He could sense the forest dying beneath him, but he felt excitement rather than elation. Ever since he escaped the madness of the hunt he had been craving this moment. A chance to see the noble face of the one who ordained him. A chance to atone. He now craved nothing more than to convince Sativus of his worth. If he could do this one thing right, if he could make peace with the Great Stag, the forest could unite once more. Whatever damage he had wrought, whatever foes he had unleashed, could be driven back by the ancient alliance of asrai and forest.
‘The forest directs us,’ said another voice. It came from the shadows beneath the trees and Orion recognised it immediately.
‘Sativus,’ said Ariel.
The grim expression dropped from her face and she smiled. It was an expression of such simple joy that Orion pictured her as she once was – his mortal lover, with no duty other than to him. He tried to rise, and go to her, but agony knifed through his wounds and he stumbled.
Ariel rushed to his side and managed to steady him before he fell.
‘And yet,’ continued the voice, ‘we so often lose our way.’ The words were unmistakably the deep, rattling bellow of a stag.
There was a deepening of the shadows as a large creature approached. Neither Ariel nor Orion could see it clearly, but it was broad in the chest and crowned by a nest of magnificent antlers.
‘I have come to explain my actions,’ gasped Orion, sensing that the words ‘lose our way’ were directed at him. He stepped towards the shadow, trying to stand tall, despite his pain. ‘My mind was not my own. I believe that whatever spirit is plaguing us now–’
‘There was a tower here, once,’ continued Sativus, as though Orion had not spoken. ‘Those who came from across the sea planted it here. They believed, in all their wisdom, that the forest was theirs to rule. They believed that it was a thing to be owned.’
Ariel’s smile faltered. ‘You speak of the distant past.’
‘I speak of nature.’ There was now an edge of emotion to Sativus’s voice. ‘It is the nature of your kind, Ariel, to bind, to prune and to hunt. It is in your blood. It is in your bones. You can never be rid of it.’
Orion closed his eyes. He had been expecting just this kind of accusation. He looked to Ariel for guidance.
She looked confused and shook her head. ‘Sativus, dearest friend, why are you saying this? Why do you speak to me like I am a stranger?’
‘No tree can grow on this spot.’ Sativus sounded more enraged with each word. ‘The ground is changed. It has been poisoned for all eternity – wounded by the greed of your forefathers. Thus have you marked your passage through history, Ariel – warping and caging the beauty of nature.’
Ariel looked appalled. ‘Why are you saying such things? Every act we perform is balanced by another. Every deed is matched by another. You know the care we take, Sativus. You know that the forest has our allegiance. Why are you speaking this way?’
‘I understand why. You believe I have failed you.’ Orion gasped with the effort of remaining upright. A pool of blood had formed at his feet and his face had taken on a ghastly hue. ‘But you must know that Ariel was never to blame. The plague that has entered the forest–’
‘Is a blessing!’ The stag’s voice trembled with passion. ‘It will drive your kind away from us.’
Ariel put a hand to her mouth, then narrowed her eyes. ‘You believe the forest will be better for this plague?’
‘If it rids us of you, yes.’ Sativus began stepping from side to side, so that they heard his hooves, thudding into the earth. ‘Whatever change it brings is nothing to the evil your children have wrought.’
Ariel caught Orion’s eye and signalled that he should move back from the trees.
He frowned, but she glared at him with such intensity that he nodded and limped back into the centre of the clearing.
‘And what would you have us do, Sativus?’ she asked.
Orion noticed that there were tears glinting in her eyes.
Sativus became calm once more. ‘Would you do my bidding, then, Queen of the Oak? Would you heed my advice, as you did before?’
‘What would you have us do?’ she repeated, staring into the shadows.
Sativus continued speaking softly, but with a new urgency. ‘You could, even now, undo the harm you have wrought. Leave the forest. Take your spells and your horses and your fires and leave us in peace. Atonement is in your grasp, Ariel, but only if you go now. Place your dead lover on his bier, bid goodbye to the old year and lead your people away. Within a season your mark would begin to fade. Nature would reclaim its own. Life would begin again.’
‘And what of the plague?’
‘Disease is part of the forest, Ariel; you are not.’
Ariel nodded. Tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks. ‘Sativus,’ she whispered, so quietly that only Orion could hear. ‘My oldest friend.’
Orion was about to speak, desperate to explain his actions more clearly to Sativus, but before he could Ariel flew past him,
spreading her arms as her feet lifted from the ground.
There was another thud of hooves, then Ariel uttered a single power-charged syllable and clapped her palms together.
The clearing was plunged into darkness. It was as though a drape had been thrown over the evening sky, muffling even the sound of rain, pattering on the fallen leaves.
Orion stumbled blindly forwards, attempting to follow Ariel.
Then the darkness was replaced by a blinding flash and he howled, shielding his eyes from the glare. His cry was matched by a scream so horrible he could not tell whether it came from Ariel or an animal.
The glare faded and Orion opened his eyes.
A hole had been wrenched in the circle of trees. Several of them had been twisted aside, as though by a powerful storm, revealing the figure that had been standing beneath them.
Orion gasped as he saw Sativus. The huge stag was utterly transformed. Its antlers were all that remained of its former shape. Where once it had been white and noble, now it was a mound of black, glistening sinew. Its hunched back now sported a pair of spiny bat wings and its tail was the armour-plated barb of a scorpion. The clear, intelligent eyes that Orion recalled had been replaced by studs of malice, rolling feverishly as Ariel drifted closer.
The same magic she had used to draw back the trees had also wrenched roots from the ground, pinning the stag to the spot.
The monster that had once been Sativus thrashed and heaved at its bonds.
‘You should leave,’ screamed the creature, abandoning all pretence of reason. Its voice was shrill and wild. ‘You cannot survive this war. You will all die.’
Orion saw that Ariel was shaking violently as she dropped gently to the ground. He raced to her side, wondering if the creature had wounded her, but as he reached her he saw that it was only grief that was shaking her body.
As tears flowed from her eyes, power coiled around her fingertips, wrenching more roots from the ground, and each one that rose gripped Sativus a little tighter.
Orion staggered to a halt as he realised what she was doing.