By anyone.’
Sempervirens
‘So they have come,’ the scarlet, black veiled woman, like old blood, whispered with her eyes closed. Her voice held a mixture of content, amusement and high expectation. ‘How fortunate, how very fortunate.’
She did not use any device to watch or hear them. She had no need to. Magic tools were for the untrained and weak, she always told herself. She was the Queen of Dochas and merely had to close her eyes when she wanted to know what was going on in her kingdom. It was she who ruled and controlled the land; her land since three centuries now; not nearly long enough to have it entirely her way. But not to worry, she reassured herself. Eternal life is yours to keep and this is just the beginning of greater things. When I am stronger and have all the TalamhClann and their magic behind me, I will stretch my boundaries and finally rule the human race as well. My vengeance will be complete and will know no mercy. The picture of the two women huddled together, asleep now in the freezing cold, vanished slowly. And the coming of these two women shall be the start of it all … she had a feeling, and her perfect ruby red mouth formed a sly smile.
The weight of ages rode upon her shoulders and when she rose from her sitting position the ache in her bones felt even worse. How long had she been sitting, watching? Time; once her enemy, had almost no meaning to her anymore. Hours slid by and became days, seasons came and went, and she watched it all with not even the slightest notion. However, to hold her body ageless, she needed to use her wondrous spell; more powerful than time itself. She only had to concentrate and say the words,
‘Curatzia memponza grelanzo menthenze whaconder flan shiantoo Sempervirensssss.’ Merely a whisper to anyone, but enough to make her heart young again and fool her bones, organs, muscles and skin.
Her long scarlet black cloak and veil wavered elegantly along her slim body as she paced her throne room. The woman smiled once more, as she had smiled ever since she found out new ‘guests’ had crossed her enchanted ‘moving’ bridge. The bridge which never was in the same place twice. She could feel them, even if she didn’t watch; breathing her air, trotting her soil. Four of them at the border just some days ago; three died, however one returned from the Other Side; an uncharted mystery even to her. And now that two remained – two women for a change, and very determined, it seemed things were getting interesting, very interesting indeed.
Now all she had to do was wait, and she was most patient – although her servants would not agree on that. Her smile turned into a loud laugh, its shrill sound echoing in the large, almost empty, grey stone-walled chamber. It was both frightening and infectious. She began to hum and then sing an old tempting song, long forgotten by most, raising her arms high. The torches on the walls immediately flared with red hot flames, and the space was filled with its warm, blood-red light. As her voice carried the enchanting tune, formed in the ancient tongue, there was no need for any more thoughts.
It was a way to forget. Where once time was her greatest enemy, it was now her past. No spell could either alter or banish memories from her brain entirely –that were imprinted on her soul – without her losing her power completely. Without her past, most likely she wouldn’t have become the person she now was. More importantly, she wouldn’t be the sorceress she was at this stage and continuing with her work, her life. She would be long dead and buried, having lived a meaningless little life. No, she was her past, just like she was her future.
And although she had sheltered her old unwanted memories from her work and life in a safe part of her subconscious, that in its turn would send the bad memories away to a part of her domain, so that they sometimes popped up unwanted, day or night. For working with magic was working with the subconscious mind. All she could do at those moments was sing her old magical songs someone had taught her long ago, and she would momentarily forget. That was necessary for her survival and her sanity. Her servants would recognize the song and know she would call for them soon. And they would obey.
Oh, yes, tonight she would call for her favourite, beautiful servant and celebrate the coming of her new promising guests.
Her heart was dark and cold; but she cared for her servants in her own cruel way. She nourished them, like they nourished her – and all were content.
CHAPTER 8
TREES AND RIDDLES
Cold are the western winds in both summer and in winter days
Long are the hours in wait
But I’ll wait the time to come
What else can I do, then waving with the wind, feeling the worms eating my toes away, blind and deaf like them, but still awfully aware.
When, oh when will you release me from this dreadful fate I was not intended to be?
Oh, please someone … where are the birds and the squirrels? Can’t you hear the plea from my crying lonely soul?
Will it be tomorrow? Will it last another year? Will it be a dozen years or will it be a century?
Will I still be here when the world dies, burning alive, or will I have to wait in vain until I wither away, slowly; like the rest of the trees…
When entering the wood they were very alert and rode slowly on the sandy path through the oak and beech trees. It was unusually quiet with no sign of birds in the canopy, or other life.
‘A Silent Place again,’ Artride concluded.
Tirsa’s heartbeat pounded in her throat when she remarked, ‘I believe there is a reason why there is no life here, other than these odd twisted trees, I mean just look at them.’ She tugged at the reins to halt the horse, and they both had a better look at the trees. If one never really cared to look at an oak or a beech tree no difference would be found, but for Tirsa and Artride, who had both grown up close to nature – Zoria and Ceartas both being covered with mixed dense woods – it looked like the trees had some sort of disease or growth defect.
‘They are smaller and more twisted than other oaks, I should say,’ Artride said with a gasp.
‘Especially these beeches. Maybe due to a growing disorder, a disease or a hostile kind of soil,’ and Tirsa jumped off, knelt down and removed the dry leaves, cupping a handful of dark soil.
‘Hmm, the soil seems alright, but who knows what’s in it exactly.’ And she stared at the oak tree in front of her; a sturdy trunk with a rough bark, green with a layer of moss and with long twisted branches spread widely and reaching towards the sky, like they were arms either begging for help or surrendering. The leaves were smaller and less in number than a healthy oak tree would have, but showed no sign of disease.
‘They seem so sad,’ the queen remarked, staring with sympathetic eyes.
Tirsa got up and walked over to her.
‘Hmm, something is amiss with them alright.’
Artride laid a hand on the tall, twisted beech tree in front of her, feeling its smooth grey bark. Instantly she pulled her hand back. Tirsa looked at her with alarm. ‘What is wrong?’
With an incredulous look, she stared back. ‘It’s warm! I never felt a tree bark so warm when not standing in the sun!’ and she repeated the gesture and tried to focus on the spirit of the tree, using her power to heal. Energy radiated from her to that of the slender tree, first soothing and calming and then feeling its weak life-spark awaken under her touch, giving it strength. She leaned forward until her forehead touched the warm bark, feeling its confused sad spirit vibrating through her soul, whispering, Heeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllpppppppppppppmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Quickly she broke contact, stumbling backwards.
Tirsa jumped to catch her.
‘It spoke, Tirsa,’ she muttered after a short silence. ‘It … no – she spoke to me.’ She had never heard trees speak to her before, or any other being when she healed a person. It had felt like some sort of mind link.
Tirsa could see her swallow away her fear before she held a hand to her chest to soothe her own rapid beating heart. ‘What … did it say?’
‘Help me.’ And she glanced back at the tree, sorry for having broken the link, but fri
ghtened at the same time.
‘I have felt life in trees before and their calm soothing content strength, but not such a helpless spirit and never with a voice. It … did not really feel like a tree at all. It felt human.’
‘Congratulations!’ a low creaky voice announced suddenly.
The women looked in the direction of the voice and Tirsa drew her sword at the same time. A small, sturdy man examined them from behind a tree, with oval deep covered eyes. He was humanoid, but looked very much like a stocky tree with his long arms, one longer then the other with long woody fingers and green fingernails, and his skin was leathery and grey-brown like an old leaf. He wore no clothes, but his slender body was covered with tangles of moss and dry leaves and branches. It appeared he had no neck, and on his head tiny branches grew instead of hair. His wrinkled face, like that of an old man, was hard to read; however his amber eyes sparkled bright in a combination of joy and wickedness.
‘Good woman, you guessed right,’ he added cheerfully, and stepped closer.
‘Halt, no further!’ Tirsa stated sternly, pointing her sword at him, sensing his wickedness.
The tree creature’s mouth twisted into a broad smile, but his eyes didn’t show a sign of amusement.
‘That’s my line, girl, but I wanted to be kind, because this lady here guessed for the first time in years.’
The queen gestured to Tirsa to lower her weapon and asked the tree creature, ‘I guess that these trees are not trees at all, but humans trapped?’ and she narrowed her eyes so that they were almost closed and added, ‘Like you, only you stand somewhere in the middle of some changing process, how come?’ She stepped closer. Tirsa widened her eyes in amazement, like the little man.
It took him a little while to recover. ‘You are in no position to ask the questions. That’s my task. So, who are you?’ His voice creaked like old wood .
‘I see,’ she was a little reluctant to give him their names. Names held a certain power and when you gave a name, especially here, people who knew magic could use it for better or for worse. But she remembered Roalda’s words that names were irrelevant and decided not to make him angry, but to stay polite to keep out of trouble.
‘Well, I am Queen Artride of Ceartas,’ and she laid her left hand upon her heart. ‘And this is Commander Tirsa Lathabris of the Seventh Company.’ The two women exchanged a quick glance, Tirsa gave her a half smile.
‘Yeah, yeah, Queen, Commander, Seventh Company … like I care.’ He muttered like he was talking to somebody else.
‘We came to visit the powerful sorceress of this land,’ the queen began in a kind voice.
‘Perhaps you know where we can find her?’
‘Enough!’ his eyes glowed fiercely.
‘Wait a minute tree man, this happens to be a queen and you do not talk like that to a queen,’ Tirsa said . This seemed to upset the tree creature even more and his face was set in lines of dissatisfaction, and now his eyes glowed red. Maybe he will set fire to himself if he gets too angry. she thought, not intimidated by him at all.
‘Hush, Tirsa, let me handle this.’ And she turned. ‘We do not want to be disrespectful, sir, but now you know our names, can we have yours, that’s only courtesy.’
‘My name is of no importance to you, I am a guard. You know where you are and I am here to prevent the land from any unwanted company.’
‘Unwanted? But we would like to ask permission to enter. Do I have to address to you?’ Artride asked kindly.
‘These are the rules; I ask the questions and you answer. Simple as life should be, right?’
‘Go ahead, ask anything you want if you let us pass.’
‘Only if your answers are correct, shall I let you pass, lady. If not … look around.’ Artride’s heart sank and she knew what he was going to say. ‘That is what your fate will be.’ His mean eyes lit up in his cracked brown face.
She wanted to ask so many questions, but she remembered what the guard had said and held back. He saw her reluctant expression and smiled viscously.
‘How difficult can it be?’ she whispered to Tirsa, but then she looked around and there were so many twisted trees; a whole wood, maybe a hundred, maybe more. ‘Poor souls.’
‘Exactly Artride, and I do not want you to turn into a tree, so I will answer any question he has.’
They spoke softly, so that the tree guard could not hear them.
‘We are in this together, remember?’ Together. It sang in Tirsa’s head.
She nodded finally.
‘Have you made up your mind?’
‘We have. State your rules, please, and they better be fair ones.’ Artride spoke loudly and her eyes shone dark and straight at him.
‘You can always go back to where you came from.’ The tree guard shrugged.
‘No, we cannot.’
He came a little closer and halted a few steps in front of them. Tirsa could smell his sweat, like rotting mulch.
‘I have four riddles for you. And only if you have solved them all may you enter. There is only one answer and you can only guess once.’
Queen and bodyguard exchanged glances and Artride looked a little pale.
‘Riddles? You didn’t mention that.’
‘Riddles, questions; it’s the same to me. A fact is a fact, an opinion is an opinion and you have riddles …’
Only one truth … Tirsa thought.
‘Four riddles for each of us?’
‘Four riddles for both, no more. You can solve them together as one, ‘cause an unsolved riddle is like a wood with no trees.’
‘Isn’t there anything else we can offer you?’ Artride suddenly suggested and leaned forward in an appealing way. ‘Anything?’ and she winked at him.
His human side was affected by her charm and turned silent as his eyes became milder. ‘But my riddles …’
‘I am sure there will be other candidates for them.’ And she looked around, while he stared at her, licking his dry lips. Well, there had been, but lately over the last twenty years only three and all failed of course. His riddles were his job and his life …
He stepped back and realised just in time she was trying to empower him, like another young woman once had done, decades ago. He didn’t want to think about her and the trap she had set for him …
‘No! That can take years! It’s up to you; solve my riddles or leave. What’s it going to be?’
Artride bit her lip in dissatisfaction and avoided Tirsa’s prying eyes. She understood the queen had wanted to do it her way, but had failed and now it was her turn.
‘Neither!’ she screamed and threw herself quickly upon him, but when she reached the floor he was gone. Surprised she gazed around to find him on the lowest branch of an oak tree to her right. She didn’t want to show her frustration. He laughed and while she stood, she hastily faced Artride.
‘Come on let’s go.’ She softly grabbed her arm and guided her to her horse, which was waiting impatiently. She clutched the reins, put a foot in one stirrup and hauled herself onto Fiosa, extending a helping hand to the queen. Tirsa could clearly see she had her doubts.
‘You think I shall let you pass?’ and he side-glanced theatrically at the silent trees around them.
‘He is bluffing, Artride.’ And still she held her extended hand in front of her. They exchanged glances, that of Artride afraid and insecure. However, she did lay her hand in hers, trusting her, building on her years of knowledge in the army, forgetting her own gained wisdom in dealing with people. She only wanted to follow Tirsa, anywhere. When she looked into her eyes she seemed to forget her worries and her country and … everything. She was getting selfish.
Sitting behind her companion and seeing the determined eyes of the tree guard, she understood their mistake.
Tirsa didn’t look at him, but guided the horse gingerly past him. ‘He is half a tree himself,’ she reassured the queen. ‘This sorceress must have done this to him. He has no powers, otherwise he would turn himself back into a man, wouldn’
t he?’ she said loud enough for him to hear.
‘So you want proof of my power, is that it?’
She is playing with fire. Artride was thinking and held her breath. I should do something to stop her!
Promptly his stocky figure stood in front of them and made a simple waving gesture with one hand towards Tirsa. The leaves of the trees around them were rustling, even though there had been no wind. She felt a tingling cold feeling in the fingers of her right hand and stared at her numbing hand which soon stiffened. The skin turned grey-brown and became thicker. Her eyes opened wide in distress. She grabbed her right arm with her left hand and her face turned pale from fear and pain. She couldn’t feel her hand anymore and noticed grimly that her nails fell off and drops of blood fell with them as tiny branches replaced the nails. Slowly the branches grew, longer and longer, and fresh green leaves folded themselves open, and the painful tingling feeling moved up her arm towards her elbow and then up to her shoulder until her whole arm had turned into a branch with leaves.
‘You see, I don’t mind,’ the tree guard announced dryly. ‘Another tree.’
‘Stop that!’ Artride commanded, shocked to see what was happening. Tirsa was clearly in pain, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes against the tears.
The tree guard faced the queen. ‘Do you think it is enough evidence, fair lady?’
‘It is enough. We believe you,’ she snarled.
‘Hmm, and what about you, Commander?’
‘Yes!’ she hissed through gritted teeth.
‘I did not hear you. What was that?’ and the leaves and moss on his body waved and rustled. Artride stiffened from anger when she saw that the tree man enjoyed his role as torturer.
‘Yes, I believe you! Now, give me back my arm!’ tears were rolling down her cheeks, flushed now.
He again made a simple movement with his arm and Artride waited impatiently to see Tirsa’s arm turn back to normal. She was breathing heavily and sighed, still trembling, feeling pins and needles in her arm, but at least it was returning to life again.
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