“Who are you waving to?”
“Huh? Oh, there’s a holly bush over there I had a conversation with on the way in.” She lowered her voice. “Normally I don’t care much for bushes. Most are mean and standoffish, with their thorns and prickles. I suppose they have their reasons. I mean, absolutely everyone steals from them. But that holly was nice.”
With that, Suri strode onward.
They passed the birches, and the undergrowth changed to fiddlehead ferns. The elm tree had been near there, but after so many years, she couldn’t pick it out. Persephone’s steps slowed until, without realizing, she stopped. A few steps later Suri also halted, as did Minna. Both of them looked back at Persephone with a puzzled expression.
Persephone stood with her hands clenched as she stared at the dark trees ahead. From this point, the land sloped upward. The undergrowth and the forest canopy cast everything in shadow. “This is as far as I’ve ever been.”
Suri started to laugh but covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re right to laugh. It’s stupid. I’ve traveled north as far as Alon Rhist and south to the Blue Sea. I’ve visited all the dahls and have even seen Mount Mador, from a distance, of course. And although I’ve looked at the forest every morning from my bedroom window, I haven’t gone in, not beyond where the sunlight shines. Not that I needed to. I don’t hunt, or cut trees, and there’s nothing of interest inside.”
The tattoos above Suri’s eyes lifted in shock, but Persephone was too scared to be polite.
“They’re just trees, aren’t they?” Persephone said the words to reassure herself, but the fear was still there. The old terror clawed, tightening her stomach and making it hard to breathe. “Even a child…even a seven-year-old girl knows that.”
“Good.” Suri took three more strides, but Persephone still hadn’t moved. “Still coming?”
“Can I ask a favor?” Persephone reached out. “Would you…would you take my hand?”
Suri narrowed her eyes and glanced at Minna skeptically, then shrugged. “Ah…okay.”
Suri crossed back through the fiddleheads. The delicate plants quivered and bobbed at her passing, but she never stepped on any. Persephone felt the mystic’s tentative clasp.
“Lead on, Aria,” Persephone said.
“Who’s Aria?”
“A girl I used to know.”
Suri looked up. “You’re very odd, aren’t you, ma’am?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Asking the Oak
Magda was an ancient oak tree that grew in a glade on a hill deep in the forest. It was said she could tell the future and would answer any question posed beneath her leaves. For most people, “asking the oak” was a simple thing, an afternoon’s walk. For Persephone, the trip took a day and a night and cost more than one life.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
In her mind, Persephone always imagined that the forest beyond the black tree was a gaping maw of darkness filled with malevolent demons, ghosts, and cruel raow that ate people, starting with their faces. Stories told on winter nights spent in a circle around the lodge fire were to blame. Huddled with her feet toward the eternal flame, she had listened while the winds howled, rattling the doors as if something were trying to enter. Most often, stories were told as if they had happened to the speaker, or to a close friend if the hero died, a frequent occurrence. Few of the forest stories were pleasant. No one found fortune or their lost love. Each ended in misery or death. Little wonder, then, that Persephone was amazed by what she found beyond the forest eaves.
Trees with trunks larger than a roundhouse soared to astounding heights, supporting a vast green roof. Shafts of golden light pierced the canopy, painting complex and shifting patterns on a carpet of needles. Moss-covered rocks and beds of old leaves lent a softness similar to Sarah’s wool-filled home. At one point, Persephone spotted a pair of deer; delicate and beautiful they stood with heads raised and ears cocked. She glanced away for a moment, and when she looked back, the two had vanished as if they had been apparitions. Suri was right: This was a home—a home of gods—and the best was still to come.
The two had been climbing steadily since entering the trees, and Persephone wondered how they would be able to go much farther if the pitch grew any steeper. Then Suri led her to a crevice in the slope where water sprayed down a tumble of rocks where dirt had been washed away by a falling stream. The water splashed and gathered in pools that overflowed to create a tall, wet, and rocky staircase. A dreamy mist rose, watering lichen and turning the stone a glossy black.
“It’s beautiful,” Persephone shouted as she followed Suri up an irregular set of slick stone steps.
Climbing the steps was easier than navigating the dead leaves and thornbushes covering the hillside, but the ascent was steep and arduous. Persephone had to stop several times to rest, making Suri flop down on a rock above her where she’d sit, swinging her slender legs impatiently. When they were near the top, Persephone took a moment to look back down. They were quite high, and the cascade appeared smaller somehow, less majestic. Still, the play of water among the rocks was lovely. Movement near the bottom caught Persephone’s attention. Three men were in the process of climbing up.
Sackett was easy to identify. His beard was short and his dark hair hung straight and reached well past his shoulders. The other two were just as easy to recognize. One had a patch over a missing eye, the other lacked a hand. Adler’s patch was small enough to reveal part of the scar where the bear had gouged him. He continually shifted his head from side to side, making up for the loss of vision. Hegner had it the worst of the three. He was heavier, and lacking a hand he couldn’t scramble up the rocks.
“What are you doing out here?” Persephone called down cheerily. Although the forest wasn’t as frightening as she’d expected, Persephone appreciated the company. The bear was still out there.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Sackett answered.
Suri, who nimbly climbed back down to where Persephone stood, asked, “You know these men?”
“Yes. They’re from the dahl. Brave men who were with my husband when he hunted The Brown.”
“Minna doesn’t like them.” Suri bent down and stroked the wolf. “She is an excellent judge of character.”
Persephone looked at the wolf. “Probably just doesn’t like the spears. Sackett is our new chieftain’s Shield. We’ll be in good hands with him.” Looking back down the cascade, she shouted, “Are you out hunting?”
“Yes, we are,” Sackett shouted back.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to travel with us for a while. I’d love an escort.”
“Certainly. Just wait for us to catch up,” Sackett said.
Persephone waited as they struggled up the wet stones, using the butts of their spears for stability. Their progress was made more difficult by the large wooden shields slung on their backs.
“The trees are talking,” Suri said. The girl’s head was tilted up, watching the leaves overhead.
“They are? What are they—”
Suri held up a finger to stop her, then narrowed her eyes, listening. Persephone listened, too, but all she heard was the wind rustling branches.
“What are you doing out here?” Sackett asked. The man had given up trying to avoid the pools and waded through knee-deep water, soaking his sandals and matting the hair on his legs so that it looked like fur.
There is such a thing as being too hairy, Persephone thought. Despite his luxuriant black mane, Sackett wasn’t a handsome man. In addition to all the hair, his deeply sunk eyes beneath a jutting brow gave him a serious, gaunt appearance.
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but we’re going to talk to a tree,” Persephone explained.
Sackett stopped just two rocks down, catching his breath.
“Did you say, talk to a tree?”
“Yes.” Persephone pointed at the girl. “This is Suri and her wolf, Minna. She’s our new mystic, who studied under Tura. She’s listeni
ng to them right now.”
The tattoos on Suri’s face made her look serious again. She stared at Sackett, and like Minna, she didn’t appear happy.
“Yeah, well, I think it would be best if Suri and her wolf were on their way,” Sackett said.
“Oh, there’s no need to worry,” Persephone said. “Minna is perfectly tame, and Suri’s our guide.”
“She’s not from the dahl. She needs to go.”
“The trees say they know these men, murderers who can’t be trusted,” Suri told Persephone.
“Suri, hunting animals isn’t murder. We rely on the meat they bring in. We’d all starve if they didn’t.”
“I said get!” Sackett shouted in a sharp tone that was frightening enough to cause Persephone to jump, but Suri remained oblivious.
Minna was not. With bared teeth and raised fur, the wolf growled.
Sackett sighed. “Can’t say I didn’t try.” He pulled the shield off his back and looked down at the progress of Adler and Hegner, who were almost up to them. “Adler, go ’round left. Stump, go right. We’re gonna have to kill this wolf.”
“Don’t call me Stump,” Hegner told Sackett.
“You aren’t killing anything!” Persephone exclaimed. “Your weapons are making Minna nervous, that’s all. Suri, can you calm her down?”
The men kept advancing. “Adler, you come up. Hegner, stay where you are. I’ll block it in; then Adler can slay it. He has the best angle.”
“I order you to stop!” Persephone yelled.
Sackett and Adler chuckled, looking at each other, amused. Persephone had always known laughter to be a warm, friendly sound, but this was cold—the noise a raow might make when tucking itself in for the night on a bed of human bones.
“Don’t care what you do with the wolf or the girl. We can move their bodies after,” Sackett said. “But no cuts on Persephone. When her body is found, it has to look like an accident. I’m guessing she took a bad fall on these rocks.”
“What?” Persephone couldn’t believe her ears. Her mind struggled to make sense of the absurd and failed.
Adler fanned out to flank Minna.
Suri finally took her eyes off the canopy and looked squarely at Adler. She pointed at him and announced, “The trees say you’ll die first. They told me you offended Wogan. He doesn’t appreciate killing in his woods.”
Suri turned to Sackett. “The trees tell me you will die second. Not because you deserve to live longer but so you’ll have time to understand. They say you won’t be going to Alysin or even Rel. The paths to paradise are shut to you. Your spirit will enter the darkness of Nifrel.”
Sackett’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to be a mystic to predict the future. I’m not the one about to die, little girl.”
“Yes, you are,” Suri said. As usual the girl’s tone was wildly out of context. She sounded pleased, almost giddy—a child excited to have been called upon because she knew the answer. “And I get to watch.”
“She’s crazy,” Sackett said. “Go on, Adler. Kill the wolf.”
“Now, Minna,” Suri whispered.
Adler was shifting his weight to his back foot and raising his spear when Minna sprang. A hundred pounds of snarling teeth and claws landed on him. Perched on a ledge of slick stone, the man went over. Shield and spear clattered on the rocks, swept away by the water. Adler and Minna both fell one shelf down; Adler landed on a boulder. The back of his head struck the rock, making a hollow sound, a muffled crack. Whether he was dead or merely unconscious was impossible to say, but the one-eyed man wasn’t getting up.
Sackett raised his spear to throw it at Minna, but Persephone grabbed the shaft. Although she had hold of it with both hands, Sackett jerked it free and slammed the pole of the weapon into her stomach. Persephone collapsed to the rocks, gasping for air.
“Sackett!” Hegner shouted. The one-handed man used his stump to gesture wildly down the cascade.
Still gasping to fill her lungs, Persephone saw two more men coming up the rocks. Both were strangers. The man out front was tall, beardless, slender, and dressed in shimmering robes, with a silver torc around his neck in the fashion of a wealthy chieftain. But Persephone knew every chieftain of the seven Rhulyn clans and hadn’t seen anyone like him before. The second man was as different from the first as a wolf was from a dog. Large and muscled, he had a tempest of black hair and a bristling beard. His clothing was as intriguing as his friend’s. Dressed mostly in leather, he also wore a black-and-white-checkered leigh mor bearing the pattern of Clan Dureya.
Sackett tracked Minna’s movements, but the wolf didn’t attack. She leapt back to Suri’s side. The two women looked past him toward the strangers.
Persephone shouted, “Help! They’re going to kill us!” With her newfound breath, she started to crawl away from Sackett as best she could.
“This is a private matter,” Sackett called out to the approaching men. “None of your business. Be on your way.”
“The lady just invited us,” the slender man said as he passed Hegner without incident.
“You’re a stranger here. Best keep it that way.”
“I’d rather not, so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Malcolm.” The man approached quickly as he spoke, brandishing a spear with both hands. Behind him, the larger man struggled to keep pace. “By what right or authority do you plan to harm these women?”
The two strangers navigated the last of the rocks that Hegner hadn’t yet bothered with and stood on equal footing with Sackett, albeit across a shallow pool. The big man had a hand on a naked sword wedged in his belt.
A sword!
Persephone had never seen a man with a sword. They were the weapons of gods, and this elaborately decorated one shone brightly. On his back, she spotted the hilt of another.
Two swords! Grand Mother of All, who are these men?
“Well, Mal-colm,” Sackett said. “You must be hard of hearing, so I’ll say it again. This is a private matter and none of your concern.”
“You, sir, are a coward, preying on the weak. You’re not particularly handsome, either. I’d go so far as to say you’re genuinely ugly. Now, let me tell you what I think about your mother. She’s—”
Sackett took a splashing step through the pool separating them and jabbed out with his weapon. Malcolm stepped back, knocking the spear aside with his own. Sackett advanced, shuffling his way across the cascade, fighting the thrust of water as he sought to close the distance, but Malcolm backed up just as quickly.
The man wearing the Dureya-patterned leigh mor rushed forward, donning his shield and pulling the sword from his belt.
Sackett raised his shield, expecting a strike that didn’t come. The Dureyan didn’t swing. Instead, he stepped in front of Malcolm and planted his feet on firm ground. Malcolm moved aside, choosing to watch the fight he’d started.
“Who are you?” Sackett asked, looking nervously at the metal blade.
The big man said nothing and stood in a slight crouch, shield up, sword back.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Sackett repeated once more.
“Didn’t say it did,” the Dureyan replied.
“Then go away!”
“So you can murder these women?” Malcolm asked. “I think not. Perhaps it’s you who ought to go away.”
“Be careful,” Persephone said, having regained her feet. “He’s skilled with a spear.”
Sackett sneered at her, then lunged toward the Dureyan.
The big man blocked the thrust and brought the sword across his body. The blade caught the end of the spear and cut through the wooden shaft. The sharpened stone tip clattered onto the rocks.
Sackett leapt back in fear. “Hegner, get around behind—” he started to say, but stopped after seeing what the rest had already noticed. Hegner was climbing down and was already close to the bottom of the cascade. “Tetlin’s Witch! You lousy cul!” Sackett shouted after him.
Throwing the remainder of his spear at the Dureyan, Sackett
turned and started his own retreat. Behind him, Minna growled menacingly. Perhaps he thought the wolf was about to leap or maybe that Malcolm would throw his spear. Either way, Sackett rushed his descent over the slime-covered rocks.
Persephone cringed even before he fell.
Sackett slipped and dropped more than five feet, hitting his back on one edge and then another. His body continued its way down the water-sprayed staircase, falling four times. He grunted with each slap against the rocks. The third ledge caught his right foot and spun him, making the last fall headfirst. His skull didn’t crack like Adler’s, but the blow bent his neck sharply.
Sackett lay in the froth of the stream, groaning and shaking his head in agony. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth pulled into a grimace, showing teeth. He didn’t try to get up. Except for his head, he didn’t move at all.
“Help!” he cried as the force of the water pushed his body, inching it toward another drop. “I can’t move! I can’t move!”
Persephone took a step down. Bent over, she used her hands as well as her feet. Where the water flowed over the rocks, they were slick as ice. She inched down knowing she’d be too late. In the back of her mind, she wondered how the death trap of a cascade had seemed so beautiful on the way up. She descended only three ledges before Sackett screamed. The ceaseless flow of water had pushed him down one more ledge. He didn’t fall far, but he ended up in a good-sized pool.
Landing on his back, Sackett couldn’t lift his face far enough above the water to breathe. Only his forehead and eyes breached the surface. Persephone moved faster, scrambling over the rocks. Then, like Sackett, she, too, slipped. Her foot came off a stone, and Persephone fell on her back. Her elbow and hip took the worst of it, sending jolts of pain through her side. Slipping farther and hurried along by the push of the stream, she cried out, desperately clawing at the slick stones for a nonexistent hold.
A hand grabbed her wrist. She felt fingers latch on. A moment later she was dangling by one arm. Persephone came off the rocks, pulled upward. Her feet continued to scramble for traction. It didn’t matter. The arm lifting her wasn’t letting go and had no trouble drawing her up. Another arm wrapped her waist. Pulled tight, Persephone was pressed against the soft kiss of white-and-black checkered wool.
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