This one showed him using his feet and knees as well, pushing his power out through his clothing from whatever points of his body came into contact with the tree. She made a special point of re-illustrating the attachment process, and he understood what he had done wrong there as well. He hadn’t penetrated the surface deeply enough with his power. He had been fortunate not to lose the skin from his hand, or he could have torn the outer layer of bark loose.
Somehow he thought that damaging the tree might be a bad idea.
Trying again, he was able, with a bit of practice, to crawl carefully up the tree. He still didn’t understand how she walked the way she did, but she seemed to accept his clumsy method, watching him with obvious pity. Her expression reminded him of how one might stare at a dog trying clumsily to climb a ladder.
She waited patiently for a few minutes, but then she grew tired. Planting another image in his mind she showed him the place she wanted him to reach, far above in the canopy, and then she left him, running nimbly upward.
“Just another hundred feet or so,” he muttered to himself, looking downward. He was already close to that far from the ground. Any mistake and he would be dead. The first limb was still another thirty feet above him, and it didn’t seem to connect to anything else. He could probably rest there if needed.
It took him an hour to reach the place she had indicated. It was a wide branch that seemed to grow oddly from the tree, splaying outward to form a wide platform as it joined the main trunk. A variety of objects were scattered around there, few of which he recognized. However two large bumps that protruded from the wooden floor looked suspiciously like chairs.
His keeper was nowhere to be seen.
People moved through the trees both above, and below, and in every direction around him. Well, he called them people, but he could tell somehow that these weren’t humans like the wardens he had met before. They were different, like the silver-haired woman. Most of them were obscured by the leaves and branches, but now and then he caught a glimpse of one with his physical eyes.
They all seemed to have the silver hair and blue eyes that he had seen on the woman and their ears all tapered to subtle points.
After a few minutes, his new friend returned. Walking closer she placed a finger on his head again, showing him an image of him sitting on one of the chair-like protrusions, then it shifted, and he saw himself walking around the platform. The last thing she showed was him leaving the platform, and she accompanied that image with a mild surge of pain.
“Wait here,” he responded. “I understand.”
She smiled and then she was gone.
The rest of the day passed slowly, and his first problem arose when he began to feel an unpleasant pressure in his bladder. It had been hours since she had left him, and he could see no obvious means for relieving himself. When he could wait no longer he chose to pee from the side of the platform, aiming carefully to avoid any lower branches.
Nightfall came and the air grew colder. He was hungry now, and shivering from the chill, but still he waited. He tried sleeping on the hard floor, but without something to keep him warm it was all but impossible.
With morning he was grateful for the return of the sun, although it wasn’t enough to warm him back up. His mouth was dry now. He hadn’t had anything to drink since right before entering the forest the day before. The goatskin sack that he had brought with him had been left strapped to the saddle of the horse, along with his food.
The one good thing about thirst though, was that he no longer had to worry about urinating. He hadn’t had to do anything more substantial either, probably also because of a lack of intake. By mid-afternoon he had gone from shaky to downright weak.
Daniel’s ear had begun to ache, and it seemed to radiate heat across the side of his head and down his neck. The warmth felt pleasant compared to the cold that made the rest of his body feel sore. By nightfall he could no longer stand.
He spent that night dreaming with his eyes open. Some of the things he saw were pleasant; his mother cooking food, Blue playing in the yard when he was still a puppy. They gave him little relief though, his mother’s food never got rid of the hunger, and when he tried to pet Blue the dog melted away.
I forgot he’s dead now.
The images of Kate were the worst. She was crying again, staring at him with eyes that seemed to lay bare his every sin. “Every woman but me, Daniel! Why?”
He couldn’t find tears to match his sorrow though, for his eyes had gone dry, much like his mouth.
The sun found him curled on the platform. He was no longer shivering, and he no longer felt the chill, although he still ached everywhere. The pain had somehow seeped into his bones. The silver-haired woman was standing over him, looking down curiously. She spoke but the words meant nothing.
He ignored her. It was too much effort to try to communicate.
She left and a short time later she returned, holding a live squirrel. It seemed to be sleeping in her hands. She placed it close to him and put a vision in his mind, showing him eating the small animal.
He didn’t bother trying to reply, and eventually she left again. After an hour the squirrel finally awoke, and it found better places to be too.
An eternity passed, and then two people appeared. One looked to be his silver-haired woman while the other was very different. The newcomer was male, but his skin was black, and his hair was a shining gold, matched only by his gold irises. The female was pointing at Daniel, and the other was laughing, as if she had told him a marvelous joke.
Perhaps that is what I am, thought Daniel. A joke the gods tell to themselves, to ease the boredom.
The man’s hue was deeper than any ordinary black, it was the color of pitch, surrendering very little of the light that touched it. His hair was not to be mistaken for blonde either, it was as if someone had taken true gold and spun it into fine filaments to create a golden wig. Leaning close, he spoke to Daniel.
“She didn’t know how to feed you properly, wildling,” said the man. “Do you speak Barion?”
It took a moment for Daniel to realize that the man was speaking his language. When he finally did he managed to croak a response, “What is Barion?”
The man smiled, “It is the name of your language, baratt.”
Baratt. There was that word again, and he still had no idea what it meant. The warden had used it as if it were an insult, but this man seemed to have no malice in his voice when he said it. He had never heard the term ‘Barion’ used to name his language either. Until he had come to the deep woods he had never considered the possibility that people or gods might have different ways of speaking.
“You look ill, baratt. I will make sure that food and water are brought for you,” added the stranger.
The two of them left and Daniel was once again alone. The woman returned after what might have been an hour. It had gotten difficult for Daniel to gauge time. This time she bore a bowl filled with water and a dead squirrel. The skin had been removed, and the flesh was scorched and burned, as if someone had held it in a fire for a few minutes.
She tried to cook it, he realized.
He drank some of the water and gnawed on the mostly raw animal. The parts that had been licked by the fire were burnt, and the rest of it was essentially raw. After a few bites he was unable to continue. At least his throat was no longer dry.
The man returned that evening, accompanied by two wardens. Daniel found himself lifted between them, as if on a bed of air, and warmth surrounded him. For the first time in over two days he was comfortable, although his body still ached and burned from within.
“This man has a fever, master,” said one of the humans. “I do not think he will survive long.”
“Take him to Ellentrea. If he lives, we can probably use him to blood one of the younglings,” said the black-skinned god.
The two men bowed, and using their power they carried him away. Daniel noted that when they went down the trunk they walked in the same manner t
hat the silver-haired woman had.
I need to learn that trick, he thought before losing consciousness.
Chapter 17
Daniel awoke in a small bed. It wasn’t too dissimilar to his own, and if it hadn’t been for the difference in the room he might have imagined himself at home again. He was shivering badly, although he seemed to be covered by a thick quilt and several blankets. His body felt dry, parched, as though he had been days without water.
A pitcher and a cup sat on a small table next to the bed, so he poured some, or at least he tried to; he got at least half of it on the floor, his hands were shaking so badly. Finishing the cup, he collapsed back into the bed, pulling the covers tightly up around his neck.
When he awoke again there was a woman at the bedside. She was probably in her twenties, though her features were coarse and rough, as though she had lived a hard life. Her nose was bent slightly sideways at the middle, giving her face an off-center appearance. He could only guess that it had been broken sometime in the past, possibly more than once. The most notable thing about her was that she wore no clothing.
One hand was lifting his head, and she had a cup to his lips. “Drink, baratt, or you will die,” she said in a voice that held little sympathy. He could tell by her aura that the task annoyed her, as if she would rather be doing anything other than tending to him.
He drank.
“I’m sorry for your trouble,” he told her, trying to show gratitude in his expression.
Her only response was to spit onto what he now realized was a dirt floor. “If you’re able to talk then you can eat,” she answered. She stepped out and returned a moment later with a bowl that smelled like some sort of broth or soup. She placed it on the table next to him, and then she left again.
Daniel fell asleep before trying the broth, and when he awoke again it was cold, with congealed bits of grease floating across the top. Unable to find a spoon, he simply drank it from the bowl, spilling some down his shirt when his hands shook. He was ravenous, and despite the lack of flavor, he drank until it was gone, swallowing tiny bits of meat and unknown vegetables as they slid into his mouth. Exhausted, he lay back, and soon his eyes closed.
The woman shook him later, and he was surprised to realize that he no longer felt hot or cold, merely sore and uncomfortable. His clothes smelled of stale sweat and he could feel grit under his collar.
He also needed to pee.
The woman offered him another bowl, but as he took it he asked her, “Is there somewhere I can relieve myself?”
She pointed at a clay bowl with a heavy lid that was tucked against one wall, and he understood that it must be a chamber pot. His parents hadn’t used them at home, but he had heard that many of the townsfolk in Colne did, preferring not to leave their homes during cold nights.
“Thank you,” he said, but her only response was a grunt as she left.
He felt a bit strange peeing in the bowl.
Examining the small room he was in for the first time, he wondered where his clothes had gotten to. Cold, he climbed quickly back into the bed.
The next several days passed slowly. The woman returned several times each day, bringing him foods that were increasingly solid, as opposed to the simple broth. She never spoke unless he questioned her, and even then she sometimes refused to answer.
“Where are my clothes?”
Bent-nose ignored the question. He had mentally given her the name for lack of anything better to call her. She had steadfastly refused to give her real name, nor did she seem interested when he offered his own.
Despite the odd care, he was on the mend. His fever was gone, and his appetite was strong. The bandage that had been around his head was gone, removed at some point while he was unconscious. The remainder of his ear had gotten infected, but it had subsided now. The nub that remained was sore and covered with a thick scab. Daniel had a hard time keeping his hands away from it, but he knew that if he worried with it he might start it bleeding again.
The most frustrating part of his new living arrangement was the complete isolation, coupled with unrelenting boredom. He had nothing to do, no one to talk to, and he had been told several times to stay put. Being naked didn’t help either.
He spent much of his spare time watching the world outside his room. He tried to find a good crack or peephole in the walls or door, but they were all too small. Daniel was forced to rely on his special sense to explore the world beyond his wooden walls.
He was in a town, and to his surprise it was much larger than Colne. It might even be bigger than Dereham, although he had never been there, so he couldn’t compare the two. There weren’t any god-trees growing within range of his perception, they stopped some distance beyond the edge of where the buildings began.
The houses themselves were all wooden, but they were oddly constructed. He could find no sign of boards or any sort of cuts. They looked as though they had simply grown up from the earth like wooden cypress knees. They had no leaves or branches sprouting from them; each was simply a gnarled mass of wood rising from the ground. Even the doors seemed to somehow be of one piece with the rest of it. Their hinges turned out to not be hinges at all, but some sort of flexible material that allowed them to swing while keeping the door firmly attached.
Directing his perception downward, he could see that the wood that had risen to form each building was all part of a single root, if that was the right word. He began to suspect that the root itself originated with one or more of the god-trees outside of the town, but he couldn’t follow it far enough to confirm that idea.
The people living in those buildings were interesting in their own ways. In the area nearest to Daniel, there were many similar, one room dwellings. They weren’t part of larger buildings, they were in fact each just one small room, separate and distinct, and each had only one occupant.
The occupants were of varied sizes, genders, shapes and ages, but they all shared one thing in particular. None of them wore clothes. Each and every one was naked, and all of them bore the unmistakable glow of power.
Their brightness varied, according to their relative strengths, Daniel guessed. Some of them used shields to cover their bodies, which made it more difficult to see their aura and to gauge their power. Watching them, it seemed that they spoke little to one another, preferring to spend their time alone. Hygiene was at a minimum, and he knew without doubt that his mother would have been shocked to see how they lived.
Most of them were allowed to enter and leave their rooms without restriction, carrying their own chamber pots to the forest to be emptied somewhere, but Daniel was not one of them. The woman who brought him food had given him strict instructions never to leave. He tried the door at one point, but it wouldn’t yield at his touch the way it did for her, and there was no readily apparent latch or other mechanism to operate it.
He was a prisoner.
After a second week without any real human contact he felt certain that he was going mad. He had begun to consider options such as gnawing a hole in the door with his teeth. That was a measure of the depth of his desperation.
The door opened and two men he didn’t recognize gestured for him to come with them. Both wore the same leather armor that he had seen on the wardens. They didn’t bother with words, simply directing him with their hands.
“I don’t have any clothes,” he protested, mildly embarrassed.
“Silence, baratt!” barked one of them.
“But…” Daniel’s second remark provoked them to action.
The closest one kicked his feet out from under him while the other drew his hands apart, creating a red line of what appeared to be rope-like energy.
“Speak only when spoken to,” ordered the one who had kicked him in the legs, pushing down on his neck with one hand while the other man brought the red whip to bear on his shoulders. The searing pain that it created stole his breath and erased whatever thoughts had been in his head.
After the first stroke they released him, and t
he red whip vanished. “Stand,” said one of them, and Daniel did as he was told, not daring to reply.
Nudity forgotten, he followed them through the narrow streets of their town. They walked for almost two miles while Daniel tried carefully to memorize their path. The alleys between the houses weren’t straight; they meandered at random, without bending to any apparent rationale or design. Most of them were small, one room dwellings like the one he had been kept in, but as they moved closer to the center of what he was beginning to think of as a city, he saw larger buildings with purposes he could only wonder about.
They stopped at last near the largest building he had ever seen. It towered over the others, rising almost a hundred feet in the air. On the other side of it was a large circular area at least a hundred yards in diameter. It had what appeared to be seats or steps rising around it on all sides, except the side facing the building.
The black-skinned forest god met them, and two other men who were naked like Daniel, took charge of him. The first two, who he guessed must be wardens, left, and the naked ones directed him with their hands. Together the three of them followed the forest god around the building, passing through a small gate and into a sheltered area on one side of the circular field.
“Go out there and wait for the lights to change to red,” said the forest god.
“What do I do?” asked Daniel.
“They didn’t tell you?” asked the golden-haired man. Daniel found it difficult to look at his blood red eyes.
“No, sir,” he answered meekly. He didn’t want another stroke of the lash, although he had noticed by now that the previous one had left no mark on him.
The god laughed, amused by some secret joke. “Just go out there. Your opponent will demonstrate for you in a moment.”
Nervous, Daniel did as he was told, and once he had entered the area, a wall of energy surged upward from the edges of the field, encircling it in a dome of what seemed to be impenetrable power. A small girl stood on the other side, more than eighty yards away.
The Mountains Rise Page 12