Azhure nodded, her face filled with gentle wonder. “Yes. I feel it. She accepts me.”
“Yes,” Faraday said. “She accepts you.” She dropped her eyes again. “Mirbolt, when the time comes and Azhure calls, come to her aid, for in doing so you will aid not only the StarMan, but myself as well. Now,” her hand tightened about Azhure’s, “Azhure and I will secure you together.”
And with several deft movements, Azhure’s and Faraday’s combined hands patted the soil firmly about the seedling.
“It is done,” Faraday said, and, glancing into her face, Azhure was horrified to see despair.
“Faraday!”
The Goodwife placed a hand on each of the women’s shoulders. “Be still. I must sing to her.”
She hummed her special cradle song again, one last time, but Azhure did not hear it. She stared into Faraday’s eyes, riveted by the pain, the horror and the sorrow she could see there.
What was wrong? What could she see?
But as the Goodwife ended her song, Faraday blinked and the horror faded from her eyes. Now they were only tired, and if they reflected pain then it was no more than Azhure expected to see there at this time.
“Stand with me,” the Goodwife said, extending her hands, “See.”
Azhure took the Goodwife’s hand, using her other to help Faraday rise, then turned to follow the Goodwife’s eyes.
Across the plain behind them the seedlings Faraday had planted that day sprang towards the sky. Neither Faraday nor Azhure had ever seen this process before. Always seedlings had sprung into their full potential under cover of darkness; now they would not wait.
“Faraday,” Azhure whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Faraday!”
But Faraday did not hear her, so enraptured was she by the sight before her.
The seedlings uncoiled—it was the only word that Faraday could grasp to even remotely describe what she saw. It was as if each seedling had encompassed within its tiny form the complete tree; now that tree unwound as if a giant spring had been set free.
The Avar women, some paces distant, all fell to their knees, hands to mouths.
Azhure hugged Faraday gently to her. “Faraday,” she murmured into the woman’s ear, “look what you have done!”
As she spoke the trees finally uncoiled to their full height, reaching to the first stars glimmering in the twilight. Their branches stretched out each to the other until they covered the ground below with gently swaying shadows.
Whatever memory still lingered of Smyrton was gone forever. In its place wove forest.
Then Faraday gasped and jumped in Azhure’s arms, and all three women and the Avar girl had to step out of the way. Mirbolt-that-was now leapt for the sky, and the air about hummed with power and vibrancy and joy as the tree unravelled.
Faraday clapped her hands.
“Look, Azhure!” she laughed, “Mirbolt lives!”
“My Lady,” the Goodwife said, “it is almost time for me to leave you.”
“Leave?” Faraday cried. “Goodwife, you cannot leave me now! I will need you…soon!”
“Hush, m’Lady,” the Goodwife said, gathering Faraday into her arms. “Hush, lovely Lady. Your sister is here. Azhure is here. She has enough experience and she has the hands and the love to guide you through. The path you take now will have little to do with me…the planting is done.”
Faraday started to cry. “Goodwife…”
“Hush, child,” the Goodwife comforted. “I have a family to go back to.” She hesitated and looked at the wood stretching behind her. “Or perhaps I will wander the forest paths awhile. Collect herbs. Recollect the stories my granny told me. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. Wander the forest paths awhile.” Her broad face broke into a smile, then it faded a little and she hugged Faraday tightly to her. “No doubt we will meet, my girl, along those paths one day. Wandering. Free. Unfettered.”
Faraday swallowed her tears and nodded, understanding. Unfettered. Yes.
“Brave girl,” the Goodwife murmured, and kissed Faraday’s cheek. “Don’t forget the words your Mother taught you.”
Faraday sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“When all seems lost and dead and dark,
Of this I can assure you—
A Mother’s arms will fold you tight,
And let you roam unfettered.”
The Goodwife sighed in profound relief. “Do not forget them, Daughter, ever. Call My name, and I will come.”
She turned to go, but caught sight of Shra standing silent to one side. “Girl,” she said, and Shra came to stand by her side.
“Girl, you must learn to speak as needed. You are too quiet for your wisdom.”
“Yes, Mother.”
The Goodwife smiled, her face full of love. “‘Yes, Mother’, that is all she can say. Well, it is enough.” She reached out and patted Shra’s cheek.
And then she was gone, striding into the woods, waving cheerfully over her shoulder, calling her goodbyes to the Avar women as she went.
“She was the Mother, wasn’t she, Faraday,” Shra said quietly.
Faraday nodded, her eyes still on the Goodwife’s form as it faded between the trees. “At times, Shra, yes she was, but mostly she was just Goodwife Renkin who was my friend.”
Azhure’s arm tightened about Faraday’s waist as she felt the woman tremble. “Faraday, what happens now? The last tree is planted out…I would have thought…” Her voice trailed off.
Faraday shook her head. “I don’t know, Azhure.” She grimaced slightly and Azhure glanced at her, her worry for the woman deepening. But Faraday caught her breath and straightened a little. “I don’t know. Perhaps there’s something I should do.”
“You need rest and you need our care,” Barsarbe said as she joined the three standing under Mirbolt’s spreading branches. She looked at Azhure as she spoke and her voice was hostile.
Faraday drew a quick, sharp breath. “I need only—” she began, when Shra pulled at her robe.
“Look!” she cried, pointing down the Forbidden Valley.
The women turned and stared, their eyes narrowing in the rapidly fading light. After a moment Azhure caught sight of a slight movement. A bird, fluttering above the Nordra. It had flown out of the Avarinheim.
“It is an owl,” Shra said, her voice subdued now. “The Grey Guardian Owl.”
“It haunts the canopy of the Avarinheim,” Azhure explained to Faraday, remembering what Pease had told her. “It is rarely seen, but it watches over the entire forest, and at night its soft cry haunts the dreams of sleepers.”
Barsarbe stiffened, resenting every word the woman spoke, but before she could speak, the Grey Guardian flew into the topmost branches of Tree Mirbolt.
And the gates opened.
The river spray thickened and yet, conversely, lightened, until the entire valley was cloaked in dense bright mist. In places it bulged, as if strange creatures cavorted within, and it reverberated with the echoes of far more than surging waters. Thousands of unseen eyes stared at them, distorted voices whispering Faraday’s name, while power seeped towards and about them. Yet none of the watchers was frightened, while Faraday and Azhure, who knew, broke into laughter.
A shape firmed in the mist, then glowed, and then a great white stag bounded out of the mist and spray.
“Raum!” Faraday cried, opening her arms, and the stag halted before her, every muscle quivering, his eyes rolling slightly. Faraday reached out and gently touched his nose, then the stag leaped past them, almost knocking Barsarbe to the ground, and disappeared into the trees behind them.
“Raum?” Barsarbe muttered. “That was Raum?”
“He has been blessed,” Faraday said quietly, staring at the spot where he had disappeared.
“Faraday!” Azhure half cried, half laughed. “Look!”
Hundreds upon thousands of creatures were swarming forth, creatures from the Enchanted Wood beyond the Sacred Grove. Birds and beasts and some that were neither, a
ll rushing towards them in a tide of beauty and joy.
“Faraday!” Barsarbe cried, and tried to pull her out of the way.
Faraday resisted, clinging to Azhure. “No, Barsarbe. They won’t harm us. Be still, now.”
But Barsarbe would not listen to her. She stared an instant longer, then jumped behind Tree Mirbolt, her hands to her ears as a great euphony of sound and movement swept down the valley. Further down the path the other Avar women similarly took refuge behind trees.
Faraday, Azhure and Shra stood their ground, allowing the great tide to part and sweep about them, laughing as beasts brushed their skin and then were gone, as birds tangled briefly within their hair and then freed themselves, as soft, hot breath tantalised then vanished.
“Oh!” Faraday cried as she turned with Azhure and Shra to watch the forest absorb the creatures.
“They’ll run right through to the south,” said Azhure.
“The creatures of the Enchanted Wood have entered their new home,” Faraday said, then her smile faded. “Azhure? Shra? Do you hear anything?”
“Save the sounds of the night wakening about us?” asked Azhure.
Faraday frowned, and she glanced at the Forbidden Valley, then at the new forest to the south. “They are joined to the Avarinheim,” she said slowly. “Surely the Song of the Earth Tree should have touched them by now? The forest will not truly awaken unless it is touched by the Earth Tree Song. Have I done something wrong?”
Azhure looked back along the Valley—she would never refer to it as Forbidden again. The mist had cleared and now only the spray of the river hung in the air. Soft moonlight—Azhure glanced up and nodded slightly—illumed the valley. The Avarinheim could be seen clearly, and, as she watched a squirrel scamper along the path by the Nordra, Azhure repressed the painful memory of Axis standing at its verge with his sword to Raum’s throat.
What about the Earth Tree’s Song? Without its touch the forest would be magical, surely, but would wield little power. Gorgrael might be able to regather his forces…winter might snatch another bite. All depended on the Earth Tree’s Song.
Azhure felt Faraday tremble. “Faraday…” she began, searching for some useless platitude when, again, Shra jumped excitedly.
“Hear it?” she cried. “I hear her Song!”
Faraday and Azhure stilled and Barsarbe, whom both had forgotten, slowly emerged from behind the tree. Her face was white; in none of her experiences as a Bane had she seen so many strange things, nor been exposed to so much power, as she had this evening. And yet Azhure stood comfortably by Tree Friend’s side as if she were indeed her sister and not her rival and betrayer. Even Shra stood entranced and relaxed, and Barsarbe wondered briefly if she had been ensorcelled by the violent power that Azhure so obviously wielded.
She stepped forward purposefully, determined to see Azhure off once and for all—by the Mother! had she not done enough harm!—when Barsarbe, too, stilled.
There was something moving along the paths of the Avarinheim.
She could not see it, she could not hear it, but she could feel it.
Faraday took a step forward, then reached blindly behind her to grasp Azhure’s hand, pulling the woman forward as well. “Listen!”
No sound was discernible, but, like Barsarbe, Azhure and Shra could feel the presence of the Earth Tree speeding through the Avarinheim towards the new forest.
And Azhure could also feel danger. “Faraday…Shra,” she said urgently. “Out of the way. Now!”
Faraday gave a soft cry of protest as Azhure pulled her backwards, but Shra caught the sense of urgency, and between them they pulled Faraday back to Tree Mirbolt. Barsarbe stood undecided for long heartbeats, looking first at the Avarinheim, then to Azhure and Shra, then she too retreated.
“Barsarbe,” Azhure said. “We shall all have to share Mirbolt’s shade.”
Barsarbe glared at her, then looked away.
Faraday clung to Mirbolt’s great trunk, not the least perturbed by the feeling of intense power that rushed—surged—towards them down the paths of the Avarinheim.
“Feel her gladness?” she cried, and Azhure did not know to what she referred—Mirbolt or the Earth Tree—but she did, indeed, feel it. It vibrated through her entire body, uncomfortably so.
Then it emerged to flood down the valley.
It was the Earth Tree Song, but sung at such a pitch and with such power and emotion that Azhure could not only feel it, she could almost see it.
Anything standing in its path would have been bowled over and flung into the river as it, too, rushed past. And, like the river, the narrow confines of the rocky chasm concentrated the Song until it was almost unbearable and everyone, Faraday included, pressed hands to ears and screwed their eyes shut as the Song of the Earth Tree plunged by them into the forest.
Then silence.
Puzzled, the women slowly, foolishly, loosened their hands.
Silence for one, long heartbeat.
Then the entire forest of Minstrelsea burst, screamed, into Song.
Azhure felt Faraday collapse against her, screaming herself, and she wrapped her arms as tight as she dared about the woman, using her own power to try to cocoon them against the sound of Forest Song.
All Tencendor quavered, and people and Icarii cried and clung to the backs of chairs and to table edges and to each other as the Song burst over the land. But the pain did not last. It was only the initial rush that was so devastating. The first burst of Song quickly gathered strength until it moved from sound into pure emotion, and then from pure emotion into even purer power. The Song moved beyond the ability of mortal ears to hear it, but it was still apparent to any who stepped beneath the forest canopy as a feeling of tremendous power that drifted about the trees, and a tremor underfoot that vibrated through the trunks of the trees and caused the leaves to tremble.
Only those who wielded strange powers themselves would ever be able to hear the melody of the Forest Song.
Deep in his Ice Fortress, Gorgrael tipped back his head and shrieked until the sound reverberated about the ice walls and tore through both ice and flesh.
“Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! Both of you!”
At his feet, dwarfed by the great figure arching above him, the baby boy also writhed and shrieked, but terror rather than anger fuelled his screams.
Scratches and abrasions lined and shadowed his naked, battered body.
Azhure blinked. What was wrong? Was her sudden presentiment of disaster caused only by the cessation of the audible Song? She opened her mouth to speak but was forestalled by Faraday’s action.
Faraday closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Tree Mirbolt. “Mother, thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
Now she pressed Azhure’s hand to the tree trunk as Jack had so long ago pressed hers to the tree in the Silent Woman Woods. “Azhure, Mirbolt,” she said, her voice harsh with power, “know each other, accept each other.”
She paused and stared at Azhure.
Azhure, her eyes enormous, nodded once, and she could feel Mirbolt accept as well.
Faraday sighed. “Remember, Mirbolt, when Azhure calls, you must assist her, and bring your sisters as well. Azhure? Azhure, when Axis needs the trees then you must be the one to call them.”
“I witness,” Shra said clearly, and placed her small hand over those of the two women.
“Oh, no!” Azhure protested, ignoring Shra. “You are Tree Friend, not I. I…I have already taken too much from you, don’t make me take this as well.”
Faraday smiled. “I have done my task as Tree Friend, Azhure. My task was to plant the trees out—”
“And to bring the trees behind Axis,” Azhure said stubbornly. Stars! She didn’t want this on her conscience as well!
“You can do that as well as I, Azhure, and I still have to bring the Avar behind Axis. Without them all will yet be lost.” She glanced at Barsarbe, then sighed. “But for the moment, until Fire-Night, I will live only for myself and for my—”<
br />
She was cut off by a nervous bray.
“Mother!” Faraday exclaimed, “I’ve forgotten all about the donkeys!”
She turned away from Azhure and Shra and looked into the forest. Trotting towards her were the two donkeys, one burdened with its saddlebags, the other still pulling the blue cart behind it.
“Oh, you poor things,” Faraday murmured, stroking them and pulling their ears. “You have worked so well for me, carried me through so much, and I have forgotten you. Here…”
She pulled the halter off the first donkey, paused to catch her breath, then undid the girth about its belly.
“Gracious heavens,” Azhure grumbled, pushing her to one side as she quickly divested both donkeys of their tack. “You are in no condition to be playing stableboy, Faraday.”
Faraday grinned and continued to stroke one of the donkey’s noses. “And you’re not concerned about your bright red horse, Azhure, and your ghost-pale hounds?”
“Oh, Stars!” Azhure breathed, her face paling.
“Well, no matter,” Faraday laughed, “for here they come, too.”
And indeed they did, horse and hounds looking slightly bemused by the events of the past hour, but unharmed. Azhure sighed in relief as she patted Venator’s nose, then bent down to murmur a greeting to Sicarius.
“At least you didn’t decide to hunt the Stag, dog. The Forest is out of bounds for you and your horde. You may only ever hunt on the plains. Remember that.”
The hound gave a brief grunt in reply, then nosed Faraday’s hand and wagged his tail at Shra.
Faraday smiled, then gave the donkey an abrupt shove. “Go!” she cried, upset to lose them but knowing she would not be able to take them with her. “Go! Run with your magical brethren through the forest! Go!”
The donkey tossed its head and tried to edge closer to Faraday. “Go!” she yelled, her voice breaking, and Azhure took a half-step towards her. “Go!”
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