Dark Oak

by Sannox, Jacob

  ‘This stretch of the road is also under construction. We have scouted no further into the southern half of the forest, but there will be no more shortcuts. We have the mountain range to contend with if we go straight through, so I suggest we create a coast road opening out on the northernmost part of the Hinterland.’

  Linwood looked to the roof.

  ‘On the northeast side of the Whiteflow?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Isobel enthused. ‘That’s all there is to tell. Progress on the first section of the route has been well advanced in your absence, Cousin.’

  Linwood cast his eye across the maps, nodding.

  ‘I’m impressed.’

  Silence and more scouring of the maps. Plates of meat and two bottles of red wine were brought in by a serving boy and Linwood began to gulp thirstily before speaking again.

  ‘Well done.’ Linwood laid a heavy hand on Isobel’s shoulder and she could not suppress a grin. He laughed in response and pulled up a chair beside her.

  ‘Your name will be remembered for centuries for this feat, Isobel.’

  She blushed slightly, obviously much relieved at the praise. In her glee, she forgot entirely all problems the project faced.

  ‘You’ve not mentioned anything about the deaths amongst the workers,’ he prompted and at once the flush returned. Linwood determined that he should play his cousin at cards sometime if ever he should be short of coin.

  ‘For the… ’ she gasped. ‘Of course. Those who died were mostly scouts or those assessing the strength of the trees ahead. It started just a few days ago. They were always alone, always isolated and found dead with never a sound having been heard. They were strangled, beaten, crushed…it goes on.’

  ‘I have sent out patrols and, as you can see, no man now works alone and I have troops nearby.’

  ‘Who do you suspect is the agent of these crimes?’ asked Linwood.

  Isobel’s blush deepened.

  ‘I have no evidence to suggest a culprit, but the men speak of the spirits of the trees visiting them in their dreams and more than one has broken off work hysterical, insisting he has seen faces upon the bark of a trunk or figures flitting in the darkness,’ she admitted.

  Linwood shook his head.

  ‘No more of that nonsense. True or not, spying something unpleasant is no reason to be shirking labour. Have these men flogged and returned to the front. Understood?’

  ‘Flogged?’ asked Isobel, her eyes widening slightly against her better judgement. When she received no response to the extent that not an inch did his head move, she let the matter lie.

  ‘What do you make of such rumours?’ Linwood asked, softly and between gulps of wine.

  ‘I’ve heard the tales just as you have, but nothing has been seen of Dryads in living memory. But then none have ever delved so deep into the forest before. And what would we do if some foe decided to pull down our homes and flatten our towns?’ she said, her tone cautious.

  Linwood sighed. It sounded, of course, like nonsense to him, but though he might be a practical man and hard-headed, he also considered himself to be a pragmatist and open-minded. The Creatures of the Devising and the nature of Awgren himself was enough evidence to suggest that not all that walked the world took on the skin of man.

  He took little time to decide on a course of action and the ferocity of his words and the speed of his decisiveness shocked Isobel when he spoke.

  ‘I’ll ride out and see if these Dryads will parley with me, if indeed this is what they are. I’ll check my horse is well looked after, if you’ll arrange somewhere for me to sleep. Send more food and more wine. Thank you, Cousin.’ He stood up fast and left the tent before she had time to question him.

  Linwood was gone, and Lady Isobel paused for a moment, considering that the briefing had not gone as badly as she had feared. She folded up the maps, put Linwood’s orders in motion and returned to supervising the work.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over several days, countless soldiers disembarked at Strewn Men Bay, but it was not until after dark, by which time most of Linwood’s troops had marched inland, that the last of the boats came ashore. It cut across the bay, not towards the open beaches further west, but to the base of the cliffs.

  Three men leapt out into the surf, but rather than pull the boat up on the bank, they pushed it back into the waves.

  Lord Lachlan led the way up the narrow pebble beach, keeping low. The three figures ducked down under a bank near the foot of the towering cliffs above them where the seabirds nested. They sat there panting for a time, recovering both their strength and their breath.

  Lachlan’s brother, Hadwyn, raised his head above the level of the bank and, after taking stock, ducked down once more.

  ‘Palisades run west along the length of the beach,’ he said.

  ‘Linwood grows paranoid in his old age,’ said Belman.

  Lachlan said nothing. Something akin to glee was rampaging inside him, and he felt almost light-hearted, desiring to rampage over the crest of the bank and stalk along the palisade, reaving and fighting his way. But in the back of his mind he heard Cathryn’s voice reminding him that though the men on guard here might be aiding Linwood in fortifying Lachlan’s own lands against him, they were but vassals, not willingly complicit in the attempt. Were he in their place, he would almost certainly be taking the same course of action. Something chimed in his mind as soon as he thought this, and it took a moment to realise that the folk of the Hinterland used much the same excuses for fighting under Awgren. So then, either these men under Linwood were innocent and so were the men of the Hinterland or both were guilty and should be likewise condemned.

  The call of a gull brought him back into the moment and he took his turn to look above the bank.

  There seemed to be no obvious defences eastward along the foot of the cliff.

  Lachlan closed his eyes and tried to remember the geography of the place from the rough drawn maps which had occasionally passed his desk. Lachlan had been to hunt in the Drift many times, but the particulars of this part of his realm were a mystery to him. However, only a blind man could miss that away to the east, if one looked down the length of the cliffs, the vague silhouettes of moonlit mountains stood tall. Lachlan knew these were the Eye Teeth and that the Impassable Forest lay beyond. If Linwood was building a road, he would no doubt start the work north of the mountains, where the terrain was more forgiving.

  ‘There is not much of consequence along the coast and only quarries in the mountains. See yonder peaks there?’ he pointed then went on, ‘Come, follow. We’ll head inland towards Stragglers’ End to gather word of Linwood’s plans.’

  Lachlan adjusted the pack on his shoulders and clambered out over the bank, hurrying to the foot of the cliffs. He waited there on the gathered sea-wrack and gull droppings till the others arrived. Once together, he set off east towards the palisade and after a pause Hadwyn followed. A few more seconds and Belman followed on behind.

  The cliff line hunkered, delved, rose and plummeted as they walked beside it. They placed their feet carefully upon the treacherous stones which were ever eager to call out their presence by shifting and scraping against one another beneath their boots. Before long the cliffs tapered down to sea level. Lachlan’s company reached a collection of huge boulders, and he wondered if they had tumbled down from a now forgotten cliff or been hurled up from the depths of the ocean by some angry sea-god.

  He led the party into the cover of the boulders and soon realised it was as he had suspected; Linwood’s palisade protected only against massed forces. Where the cliffs began to rise and the terrain grew obstinate in the face of invasion, the palisade faltered and, peering into the night gloom, Lachlan thought he could make out its end nearby - that and the sound of hushed voices.

  He was about to turn to tell the others when a shriek of laughter pealed up ahead. All three men shrank down low without a thought and, with a nod of his head, just visible in the moonlight, Lachlan made it clear he intend
ed to strike away north through the boulder field. His hope was to find undefended open ground on the other side.

  The lord and his men took great pains in getting off the beach without detection, for they had no desire to be identified as those who had newly come ashore. As such, the going was slow for the first hour, but after that the beach gave way to rising grasslands and their passing was no longer betrayed by the ground underfoot. They kept themselves in a staggered formation so that they appeared less a body of men and an easier feature to miss as they traversed the landscape.

  In his mind’s eye, Lachlan relived riding across these grasslands towards Straggler’s End, the strongest castle in the Drift. Cathryn had not been with him then, and, in truth, he had been glad of the escape. Now though, she was ever calling him from the back of his mind, and as Lachlan trudged onward, exhilarated by the chill of the night air and the utter scope to go wherever and do whatever he wanted, he was only ever a few steps ahead of the guilt that stalked behind him.

  They came to a copse and searched between the trees for both people and animals. Satisfied they would be safe for the night, they made camp; a crude affair consisting of bedrolls and blankets. They talked of a fire, but given that the night was cold, but bearable and, as of yet, they were still to shake the feeling of vulnerability, they decided it would be better to forgo the extra warmth. So it was that the three men laid down a blanket apiece, wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay down under another blanket, close together like children tucked up in the same bed. For a while, there was naught but the sound of breathing, but all were too excited to sleep, and it was but minutes before low voices broke the quiet under the birch trees.

  Belman squirrelled in his pack and drew out three dry biscuits he had retrieved from the schooner’s stores. He passed them out, and they ate as they talked, careful to make each morsel last as long as was possible. Lachlan passed a water-skin when they were done.

  He lay back and looked up at the stars, framed as they were by the spindly branches of the birch, where branches reached too far and tapered.

  ‘Lachlan,’ whispered Hadwyn.

  ‘Aye, I’m awake,’ Lachlan replied.

  ‘You expect much trouble on the road?’

  Lachlan interlocked his fingers above his heart, his arms above the cocoon of his blanket. He sighed. After considering for a while, he replied.

  ‘I think not. Linwood is harsh in his justice and his sheriffs are notorious, so I fear little from robbers or vagabonds.’

  Hadwyn laughed.

  ‘What’s funny?’ asked Lachlan.

  ‘I have a little trouble imagining Lachlan, Lord of the Isles who I saw throw down Awgren with my very eyes, troubled by robbers or vagabonds even if they arrived by the thousands, and he was caught unarmed whilst about his ablutions!’

  Belman snorted and Lachlan hissed for him to be quiet. Hadwyn continued,

  ‘Lawbreakers are of little concern, but what of his standing army?’

  ‘We shall see,’ said Lachlan. ‘He had men defending palisades at the beach. It makes sense that he has closed his borders – the man is scheming, after all and he’s always been paranoid. I expect the keeps and towns will also be guarded, but to what extent and what measures he has in place, who can say? I would think that while we are in open country or woodland, we should be safe enough.’

  ‘Have you decided how to proceed?’ asked Hadwyn.

  ‘We’ll look over the maps in the morning and talk it over. Head to a smaller settlement and see what the locals have to say for themselves.’ He yawned. ‘Come now. Let’s sleep.’

  The blanket below him was initially accommodating to his form, but as the night wore on, and he began to feel the chill in his bones, Lachlan could feel sticks and protrusions both real and imagined jabbing into his side. He became fully awake before dawn and not wishing to waste any time, he set about searching for roots, fungi, nuts and other such eatables.

  It did not take long to strike lucky. A collection of ceps grew around the mounting roots of birch trees at the centre of the copse. Lachlan set about gathering them up into his hood and took them back to his bedroll, where he left them before going off in search again. He could find little else and when he heard a yawn, he returned to the camp. Hadwyn was stirring, and he gave his brother a gentle kick in the ribs, grinning as he did so.

  ‘Sleeping the day away?’

  Hadwyn raised his head, saw it was still dark and closed his eyes once more.

  ‘Tell me you’re just up to relieve your bladder, Brother.’

  ‘Nonsense. We’ve beaten the sun up, and we must keep our advantage. I can hear water nearby. Get Belman awake while I refill the skins,’ said Lachlan.

  Hadwyn was up and eyeing the mushrooms when Lachlan returned, though he had not dared to steal one. They went through the pile now that the sun was rising and discarded those infested with insects – a disappointing majority. Those they did eat were smoky and reminiscent of chestnut. Each man carried a little salted meat and they shared a little out from Hadwyn’s pack, Lachlan pairing a sliver of mushroom with a sliver of meat as he ate. The others jested at his particular way of eating, but he ignored them and kept at it till his lot was consumed. That done he set about rolling up his blankets and brought out the map. While the others were readying their packs, he walked out of the copse and made a reckoning of his location judging from the position of the sun, taking into account their landing point and the rough direction he thought they had walked in.

  Hadwyn and Belman soon joined him. He brandished the map and once Hadwyn had it spread out between his hands, he jabbed at a settlement with one finger.

  ‘Redbranch. It is a few days travel to the northeast and lies between Stragglers’ End and the forest.’

  ‘Have you been there before?’ asked Belman, but Lachlan shook his head. He gripped the straps of his pack, hooking his thumbs under the material and set off north at a fair pace. Hadwyn and Belman exchanged a look, despairing of their lord’s energy and set off to catch up.

  The miles passed easily enough, and before too long they felt comfortable enough to walk together – three somewhat desperate-looking figures, each cloaked and with packs, each with a bow slung across his back and sword at the hip. Cathryn usually encouraged Lachlan to have his beard trimmed, but the Lord of the Isles was off the leash, and the hair about his face grew shaggy and unkempt.

  Aside from the beach palisade, little seemed changed in Stragglers’ Drift, and Lachlan felt at his ease, confident that if challenged even his true identity would bring him little issues.

  ‘After all,’ said Hadwyn when Lachlan mentioned it, ‘If Linwood is making plans to move against you, he would be a fool to disseminate them amongst his people whilst open trade and co-operation is in place. People talk.’

  ‘And how would they recognise you anyway?’ said Belman.

  They came upon a dirt road, but stayed out of sight amongst the brush while a convoy of carts passed by. Each one was heavily laden with timber.

  ‘What do you make of that?’ asked Belman.

  Hadwyn and Lachlan said nothing, thinking that, given Aldwyn’s intelligence about the road, it was damn obvious what was happening. Belman spoke again before the pause became conspicuous.

  ‘I’d wager Linwood has begun his road and these are bearing away the trees he is felling!’ he whispered excitedly.

  ‘Doubtless. Good thinking,’ said Lachlan. Hadwyn failed to conceal a small smile. Belman had other strengths and did not deserve to be openly mocked.

  The carts passed on.

  The company drew close to Redbranch before noon and skirted around the outlying farms westward until they came upon the road which led into the village from the direction of Straggler’s End. Lachlan reasoned that, if they so wished, they could pass themselves off as soldiers heading towards the forest from the capital. After some discussion, they decided on the course that had been mentioned first and was secretly most desired by all – finding a ta
vern.

  Their plans went awry before ever they set foot in Redbranch. Though the place was small and a cynical mind might even refer to it as inconsequential, there was a standing guard on the gate. Hadwyn was sure he had seen a patrol of another two guards just disappearing around one of the houses on the perimeter of the village.

  ‘It is what it is,’ was all Lachlan would say, but he adjusted his sword belt all the same. He reminded himself yet again that these were not denizens of Awgren he was approaching, that these were his own people. The thought did nothing to quell the mounting tension and rising levels of adrenaline in his blood. He recognised this and did what he could to collect himself, taking long cold breaths of the morning air.

  A man and two women passed along the road between the guards before Lachlan’s party did so; the man in and the women out. The guards nodded recognition and exchanged a few words with each of them, which Lachlan found simultaneously encouraging and disheartening. The guards seemed informal enough that simple conversation and wit might allow his company to traverse any questioning thrown their way, yet they were familiar with the villagers and therefore the doings of the village, like as not. Lachlan feared his story might not stand up to scrutiny. Nevertheless they walked on. Their previous effort to seem casual, talking amongst themselves, ceased as each man imagined how the situation might unfold. Lachlan was picturing a conversation turning increasingly desperate. Hadwyn pictured them brassing it out, demanding entry and the men giving way. Belman seemed to have bypassed all charm and guile and was dreaming of staving the men’s heads in with the butts of their own polearms, a dreamy little smile curling the corners of his cracked lips. It went unnoticed as they approached the guards.

  ‘Good morning,’ called Lachlan.

  ‘Good morning,’ replied one, quite cheerily. Another took aim at a pebble on the dust road and booted it off into the dry grass nearby.

  ‘What of the day so far then?’ said Lachlan. His voice was exuberant and his manner quite overbearing, but not unpleasantly. This was the varnished manner of a man who is used to getting exactly what he wants, who has never met another who can stand in his way, yet has not let it go to his head.