Betrayal

by Fiona McIntosh

  Cloot figured that Goth believed that if he could just find a trace of the cart or its occupants, then he as good as had Alyssa cornered once more. Cloot had watched the Inquisitor’s progress very closely over the months since Tor and Alyssa had married. Four separate forays had yielded nothing for an infuriated Goth. And now he was back; this time with men from the King’s Guard in tow. Lorys was obviously being supportive of this venture, Cloot thought. And was it his imagination or was the Great Forest allowing Goth further in than on previous occasions?

  Up to now, Cloot had enjoyed watching the vile man being given the run-around by the forest. Paths suddenly showed themselves beneath undergrowth but led nowhere; others looked promising but led back to the same spot where they had originated. Still others took their travellers to waterfalls, or dense growth through which no one could pass. One inspired path even took the Inquisitors to a bare rock face. Oh yes, Cloot had watched and derived much humour from the clever way the trees outwitted Goth at every turn. But this time it was different. Goth had actually made it to the furthest reaches of the Heartwood itself. That’s what was troubling Cloot tonight.

  Arabella was not long in arriving. Sorrel was glad of the help of another woman. Together they walked Alyssa around when the pain got too bad.

  It was the middle of the night and she had been labouring now for ten hours and there was no sign of the situation changing. Sorrel explained to the others that, of the three stages of a woman’s labour, Alyssa was in the early half of her second stage but was not progressing. The birth process was at a standstill when it should be gathering steam.

  ‘We’re in for a long night,’ Sorrel warned, not allowing anyone else to see the concern she was feeling. It was not going well and she feared for the baby’s health. Alyssa, she could tell, was not even close to delivery which meant the baby had perhaps another ten hours to hold its own, maybe longer. Mother and baby would be struggling by then. Sorrel calmed herself, though, trusting the magic which was all around her.

  Tor, having long ago exhausted every possible job he could tackle, was now standing nervously in the shadows. He regretted that Cloot had chosen the cover of leaves; he would have preferred the comforting weight of his friend on his shoulder. Both Tor and Cloot were disturbed by Alyssa’s groans; even to their unexperienced ears and eyes, it seemed she was weakening.

  Tor tried to offset his nervousness by talking to the falcon.

  What news beyond the Heartwood?

  You don’t want to know, Cloot replied, instantly regretting his hasty words.

  Tor’s attention was momentarily shifted from the struggles of his wife. What do you mean?

  That slipped out. You’ve got a lot on your mind, Tor. We can talk about it later. The falcon was anxious to find something else to talk about. Shall we check with Sorrel?

  No, Cloot. I can see that Alyssa hasn’t improved. Tell me what you’re trying to avoid discussing.

  Cloot was trapped. Tor heard his sigh across the link. Goth is roaming the Great Forest. He has a special troop of the King’s Guard with him.

  How long has he been here? Tor’s insides felt suddenly loose. Goth did not scare him but he knew how much the Inquisitor terrified Alyssa.

  Five moons, the bird said softly.

  This time Tor didn’t bother with the link. ‘What?’ he roared.

  Everyone turned to look at him; even Alyssa, in her pain, glanced over. He waved away their enquiries and stepped deeper into the shadows.

  What in Light’s name are you talking about, Cloot?

  Don’t make me repeat it, Cloot replied, embarrassed.

  When did you plan on telling me?

  When the child is born.

  If it ever gets born. Goth will probably kill it even if it does.

  Enough, Tor! Goth won’t find your child. The Heartwood will protect you all. It’s already given him the run-around for all this time. But who could have counted on his determination to find you? He is a man possessed.

  So what do we do?

  Nothing for now. Just concentrate on your wife.

  Alyssa shrieked and all conversation stopped. Tor rushed to her side. Saxon came running from his quiet spot in the shadows. He was suffering in silence too.

  Blood was gushing from beneath Alyssa’s shift. Sorrel was pale and the face of the normally unflustered Arabella was etched with worry.

  ‘This is a bad sign,’ Sorrel growled. She no longer cared about protecting anyone from her anxieties. The blood signalled that death was not far away. There was no way she could lose Alyssa or the precious child like this.

  Alyssa opened her eyes as another wave of pain subsided briefly. She gazed at Tor and mustered the barest of smiles through cracked lips. She mouthed the words ‘I love you’ and then a fresh torrent of pain hit her hard. More blood gushed and soaked the earth where Tor knelt.

  He began to weep. This could not be happening. Alyssa was dying in front of him as she slowly lost the battle to bring their child into the world.

  ‘There is nothing more I can do,’ Sorrel said helplessly. ‘Only a miracle can save the baby. Alyssa may already be too far gone.’ She voiced what everyone suspected.

  ‘No!’ shouted Saxon, fighting what he knew to be true.

  Tor regained his composure. His mind raced as he looked around him. Solyana had padded up and was standing next to Saxon. He looked down at his wife again; she was pale, bleeding, lifeless. This is how her own mother had died—giving birth to her. History must not be allowed to repeat itself. There was no more time to think. Only to act.

  Solyana, can we summon Darmud Coril?

  ‘I am present.’ The great voice spoke aloud. ‘Give her to me,’ he commanded.

  Tor and Saxon immediately bent to lift Alyssa but the god of the forest had not spoken to them. Tendrils of vines crept swiftly out of the undergrowth and wrapped themselves around Alyssa. Leaves and twigs meshed together beneath her and a large, majestic tree bent to tuck its branches gently under the prone figure and lifted her tenderly into the arms of Darmud Coril.

  Huge and imposing, the sparkling colours of the forest twinkling around him, the forest god cradled Alyssa as though she was an infant. Instantly the Flames of the Firmament lit themselves and draped about her, chiming so softly. Vines continued to wrap themselves around those gathered there, until all were linked through the god’s power.

  Silent awe gripped them as they watched Darmud Coril work the miracle Sorrel required. He began to chant, his deep voice singing a medley of notes which followed no tune. The flames burned brilliantly bright around Alyssa, swaying in time with Darmud Coril’s notes and the trees bent in towards her, whispering.

  It was only afterwards that they would confess quietly to themselves that they not only watched but felt the god’s power. Of all of them, only Sorrel was changed by it, though she did not know at the time the good and the bad of it.

  The others had to shield their eyes from the glare but Tor stared through the blaze, absorbing the finest details of the powerful magic being poured into his wife and once again storing its combination and scent.

  After what felt like an eternity, the flames resumed their normal intensity, the trees returned to upright and the god of the forest’s eyes refocused on those around him.

  He lifted Alyssa to his face and kissed her forehead tenderly before returning her to the tree, which laid her gently on the blanket where she had lain earlier.

  ‘She bleeds no more and is in the most powerful of all sleeps. In that sleep she will heal but she will recall nothing of this event. Deliver her child, midwife. It comes!’

  It took Sorrel a moment to realise the god of the forest was addressing her. She scuttled to Alyssa’s side and peeped beneath her bloodstained garments.

  ‘He speaks true,’ she cried. ‘The child is being born.’

  Tor fell at the god’s feet. ‘How do I thank you?’ he mumbled, his head bent in awe.

  Tor, spoke the great and gentle voice of Darmu
d Coril into his mind. You are the One who will save us all. We will one day thank you. But first you have much to overcome and great pain to endure. Instead of you giving me thanks, I must ask your forgiveness for what the Heartwood must do.

  Tor looked up into the sad eyes of Darmud Coril; he saw the colours of the forest there and endless compassion. He could not imagine why the Heartwood should ever need to seek his forgiveness.

  He frowned. I don’t understand.

  You will, my son, the god said even more sadly. The flames flickered to black and Darmud Coril disappeared.

  ‘Tor!’ called Arabella. ‘Your child is almost here.’

  Tor turned to see the holy woman and Saxon holding one another, tears coursing down their cheeks. And then the most amazing sound he had ever heard broke through the silence of the Heartwood.

  It was the sound of his child crying.

  ‘A boy,’ Sorrel said, her voice thick with her own emotions. She was kneeling between Alyssa’s bent legs and holding up a baby towards him.

  Arabella handed Tor a length of soft cloth. He took the little boy from Sorrel’s hands and he wept, unashamedly this time. ‘Oh, Gidyon,’ he whispered, ‘your mother is going to be so proud of you.’

  Exploding into the high emotion and celebration of that moment, creatures of the forest broke from the bushes and ran in all directions.

  Solyana spoke. They have been startled, she warned and trotted quickly in the direction they had broken cover.

  Saxon’s face was suddenly grim and Tor realised what the Paladin had been keeping from him.

  Goth was here.

  ‘Wait here with Alyssa and Sorrel!’ Saxon ordered Tor and followed Solyana. Arabella ran behind them.

  Cloot! Tor yelled across the link, what’s happening?

  The nightmare has begun. You must get Alyssa and the child to safety.

  Tor had no time to think. Sorrel was screaming at him. ‘There is another!’

  He thought he had misheard her in his panic, thought she had yelled that there was another baby. He walked closer but was shocked to a standstill when she lifted another whimpering infant in her arms. He was lost for words amongst the wonderment.

  ‘A sister. A twin,’ Sorrel offered hoarsely. She too was shocked. Alyssa was no longer conscious.

  Tor’s voice was as cold as his question. ‘Is she dead?’

  ‘She lives still,’ Sorrel said, no longer looking at him. ‘Here, take your daughter. I must attend to your wife.’

  Tor tenderly took the tiny child. Her face was red and screwed up and a soft down of strawberry-coloured hair was matted to her head with birth fluids. She was the complete opposite of her brother, whose thatch of dark hair stood up in thick clumps. Where her features were fine and elegant, like her mother, the boy was dark and angular.

  ‘Gidyon…we welcome your sister,’ Tor said, his voice trembling as he watched Sorrel trying to rouse Alyssa. ‘Her name is Lauryn.’

  Cloot demanded his attention. Tor, listen to me, you have to get the children to safety.

  How close are they?

  Too close. The others are trying to draw them away. You must take the children and flee.

  No! Tor shouted. All Goth needs is to see me and he will hunt me down. I’m the best diversion we have. He doesn’t care about Arabella or Saxon. He wants me; if he finds me he thinks he finds Alyssa.

  Cloot did not disagree. What do you want to do?

  How much time do we have?

  Minutes perhaps. Saxon’s got them herded off in the wrong direction now.

  Keep the link open. Keep me advised.

  Tor wasted very little time telling Sorrel of events. It seemed she too already knew of Goth’s presence.

  ‘You must go,’ she said.

  ‘What about my family?’

  ‘Listen to me, Tor, and listen well. I will take the children away to a safe place. But you must give me time by keeping Goth away from here. As far away from the Heartwood as possible.’

  ‘Alyssa?’ he whispered, shattered at this turn of events.

  ‘I’ll get her to somewhere safe in the forest. I can’t carry all of us. Remember what Darmud Coril said—she will survive. She will heal and she will remember nothing. Tor, are you paying attention? If Goth finds these children, he will execute them without mercy and make you and their mother watch him do it. Then he’ll crucify both of you. He has ancient law on his side and a King who will sanctify it. Alyssa’s status has not changed in the outside world. These children are a monstrosity to the likes of Goth.’

  ‘What are you telling me this for, Sorrel? Do you think I don’t know it!’ he shouted at the old woman.

  She spoke quietly now, not much above a whisper. ‘Tell no one of this. Only you and Cloot and I know of the girl. We will say the boy died. As far as everyone is concerned, there are no offspring of Tor and Alyssa Gynt.’ She looked hard into his uncomprehending eyes. ‘Not even their mother will know,’ she added.

  Tor looked at her aghast. A pain knifed through his head as he tried to grasp the meaning of her words.

  ‘Betray her?’ he whispered.

  ‘Save her!’ she snarled. ‘Save your wife, save your children and, with luck, save your skin too.’

  Tor’s head reeled. Somewhere in that horribly cold plan of Sorrel’s lay truth. Her eyes blazed.

  ‘Go!’ she screamed again. ‘Save your family. Get Goth away from us!’

  Tor stepped back a few paces in shock. The link was open; Cloot heard the conversation and was stupefied by it. The infants began to whimper again. Sorrel could almost read Tor’s thoughts as his expression shifted from shock to despair and finally to acceptance.

  ‘How will I find you?’

  ‘You will find us.’ She turned; the two bundles were beginning to cry. ‘You have to leave, Tor, or we will all die—all of it will have been for nothing. If you do as I say, there will be no killing. I know you can wield magic; I know you can kill them all if you wish. But you don’t wish. You can keep these children a secret and we can preserve you and Alyssa. Please, Tor, let me go with them to safety.’

  ‘Wait,’ he cried. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small leather pouch. He tipped out three blazing orbs. ‘Take these. One for each of my children and one for you. Wherever you go, keep them safe and near to you.’

  ‘What are they for?’ she asked, taking them. As she did so their colours died and they became dull stones again.

  ‘I don’t understand them yet but I believe they will protect you. And…I don’t know,’ he said tiredly, ‘perhaps I can use them to reach you.’

  Sorrel gave the loveliest of sunny smiles Tor had ever seen on her. He had not known she was capable of such warmth. It seemed almost ugly amidst such despair.

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you, Tor. I will keep your children safe.’

  She reached up and kissed him. Then she hugged him fiercely. ‘Now you must go, my son,’ she said gently.

  Tor knelt by his unconscious wife and pulled something from a tiny pocket of his clothing. As he kissed her farewell he pressed the archalyt disc onto her forehead. Should Goth find her, it would offer some small protection. He hurriedly kissed his son and daughter then stood. There was nothing more to be said. He spied the sack containing Nanak’s books, which he grabbed, and, without a glance behind, disappeared into the black of the Heartwood, relying on his faithful falcon to guide him towards their enemies.

  Sorrel, alone with the children and their unconscious mother, wasted no time in casting to Merkhud. This was a dire change of events and it was critical he knew of it.

  There was no response.

  She frowned, cast again. This time, she realised with deepening fright, it was not that there was no response; she was reaching into nothing. She cast again and once more felt her link shatter and disappear into a void.

  Alarm turned to terror when the trees began to close around her and she became aware of the shimmering, almighty presence of Darmud Coril.

/>   ‘You will do as I command,’ he said.

  They spent two days playing cat and mouse in the Great Forest. With Cloot’s help, Tor allowed himself to be sighted several times and each time Goth hungrily gave chase. Their manoeuvres managed to draw the Inquisitors and the King’s Men entirely away from the Heartwood.

  Tor did not spy Saxon, Arabella or even Solyana during this time. It was just him and Cloot again. They spoke so little it made them even more depressed, but they kept the link permanently open and an exchange of moods and emotion rolled between them.

  On the third day, hungry and cold—for the Great Forest did not provide like the Heartwood and winter existed again—Tor made a bold decision.

  He took Cloot by surprise when he spoke. I’m going back.

  Tor, no.

  I am. You can come or you can stay. I care not. I have to find Alyssa. She may be dead. I may never know.

  She won’t be dead, Tor. Darmud Coril would not let that happen.

  Tor looked up to the branch where Cloot sat and pointed angrily at him. Oh no? He let the butchers in to come after her. Why not help them kill her?

  Stop! the falcon ordered. This is madness talking now. All right. I’ll come with you—if just to prove you wrong.

  He snapped the link shut.

  Tor stood wearily and began to backtrack. Strangely, it took them a much shorter time; only a day and a half. But then everything about the Heartwood was strange and neither commented.

  It was dusk when they arrived back in the clearing. What Tor saw there astounded him. There was not only no sign of Alyssa; there was no sign that anyone had ever lived there. He swung around to where the lean-to had been: a tree now stood in that spot. The areas they had cleared were densely covered with foliage and undergrowth. And in the place where Alyssa had lain and given birth grew perfect white blooms unlike any ever seen before in the Heartwood.