Dark Oak

by Sannox, Jacob

  Willard clasped and unclasped his hands, shifting nervously.

  ‘Yes, Sire,’ he said. ‘Long live the king.’

  With that he turned and was gone. Linwood advanced on the table and ran his eyes over the various maps depicting the defences around his borders, the numbers of the garrisons at all the settlements and the progress of the road. Ere long, Willard returned and Linwood beckoned him over.

  ‘Are these made afresh?’ Linwood demanded.

  ‘This very day, Sire, to account for your returning armies.’

  ‘Good. Very good. The Council is assembling shortly. I must away to my quarters, but will return shortly. Have riders ready for when the Council finishes its business. We will have troop movements to make.’

  Willard nodded in affirmation, but tarried.

  ‘Sire, have you heard word of Lord Lachlan?’

  Linwood nodded, not taking his eyes from the parchment before him.

  ‘I have heard that he even now is encircled within the Whoreswood. What do we know of his numbers?’

  ‘It is said by those that returned from the summons early that Lord Lachlan, Lord Hadwyn and his general, Lord Belman are with the whores, Sire. There have been no sightings of any larger force within our borders.’

  ‘What is the old devil up to?’ said Linwood. He brushed past Willard and marched off towards his own quarters where, in anticipation of his needs, serving girls were waiting. He took food and wine, but declined the warm water of the bath that had been drawn for him. He did, however, exchange his sword before returning to council.

  He found his commanders, the castellan, high sheriffs and chancellor assembled in the throne room. They stood to greet him and bowed their heads. He took up his seat upon the throne, though it was largely impractical to do so, as it was set upon a dais at some distance from the table and required that he raise his voice to be properly heard. Nevertheless, there he sat and received reports of how things stood within the Drift and then, having declared his intentions once more to secede from the Combined People, he set out about a new tack.

  ‘As you all know, our people have been toiling to create a road and new settlements in the forest. There has been a challenge to our authority to do so and I have met with one who claims to be king of a people within the forest. They are mighty in strength and declare that if we set foot in the forest, they will pour open war upon us.’

  ‘We have men in the forest yet, at the farther encampments. What of them?’ said General Oakwood.

  ‘I have ordered all our forces and all our people to leave the bounds of the forest. They assemble at the brink under the command of Lady Isobel,’ said Linwood. ‘Therefore our work and aims are hindered greatly for now. I seek your counsel.’

  There was silence for a moment then Oakwood spoke up again.

  ‘Obviously we can supply our ports at Oystercatcher Bay and deploy from our ships, but I would judge that for a united realm, a united land mass would be necessary. And to have an open border with the forest against the people within…it invites division and war, surely, Sire? Who are these people, Sire?’

  ‘I know not, for sure. I have met with one identified to me as King Riark of a people who dwell therein. I saw with my own eyes that they are a hardy folk with armour well beyond our own. I fear our weapons will do little against them. In truth, they are more fearsome than any creature Awgren devised.’

  He stroked his chin and looked at the chancellor.

  ‘Tell me, Adair. What store do we have of food, timber and weapons? Can we wage war as we are, coming only of late from battle in the south?’

  ‘We have weapons enough to arm our people twice over and great store of both food and timber, Sire,’ said Chancellor Adair.

  The talk went on for nigh on an hour and during this time, Linwood considered telling his lords the full truth of his encounter within the forest, and yet when he made to speak, the words seemed ridiculous to him. Loyal though he thought them to be, he was not convinced that they would not think him mad for speaking of his parley with a man of the trees.

  ‘I’ve made my decision. All settlements must be put on alert. General Oakwood, I want the defences at Strewn Men Bay bolstered and an army left in reserve at Stragglers’ End. The rest of our forces will march upon the forest at first light. Send word to your captains, and see that everything is set in motion. But spread the word that this Riark is a lieutenant of Awgren – it will lend the task greater gravity, but also give hope that our opponents can be defeated.’

  Linwood stood and moved to the head of the table, clasping it by the edges and regarding each man in turn.

  ‘You have all heard, I am sure, that Lord Lachlan is in the Whoreswood even as we speak. I have no doubt that, as he comes by stealth and unannounced, he means us harm. I have spoken openly of the new realm and as such, he must be taken forthwith. The castellan and his men will attend me and together we will roust out this foreign lord and see what he has to say.’

  Ere long, Linwood and Willard were moving out of the keep with a company of thirty armed men. They passed into the winding streets of Stragglers’ End, amidst the throng of peasants, trudging through the mire churned up by their feet as well as the hooves and paws of their animals. They moved through at a smart pace heedless of those in their path, heading straight for the postern gate that led into the Whoreswood. Few men amongst them were unaware of the gate and the path through the woods beyond, as it was the custom amongst Linwood’s folk to test their mettle against the whores in order to gain manhood.

  Linwood pushed open the door and found he was standing in a bare half circle of ground before the path started into the trees. The first lantern could be seen off in the distance around the first bend. He stepped into the Whoreswood and Willard followed on with his company.

  As they walked forward, Linwood consciously paced out in front, unease growing within him. At first he could not identify the feeling then, after much cogitation, he recognised it as the same stirrings caused by his encounter with the king of the Dryads. He once more felt diminished and inadequate, requiring so many men to combat so few. While the realisation did not suit his palate, he knew it would be foolish to underestimate Lachlan. Though he might be a vulnerable interloper and an obstacle to be surmounted before he could fully assert his new rights as king, Linwood had witnessed the man do battle. He had never seen one so strong, so aware and so blood-thirsty amidst the throng. The Lord of the Isles was an educated man, quick on his feet and swift with his blade. He could endure blows near as well as he could give them out and nothing fazed him in the slightest. The more Linwood thought on the man he was soon to waylay and possibly arrest, the greater the unrest in his heart and ever darker grew his mood.

  He gripped the hilt of his sword as he walked and his other hand was clasped into a tense fist. In defiance against his doubts, he walked as upright as he could, whipping up his courage as he had once done when new to battle and afraid.

  Linwood passed a lantern and the bells, which had fallen silent while he was in council, could be heard again. Linwood stopped, feeling certain that in the noise there lay a signal. He turned to Willard.

  ‘We must hurry,’ he said and set off at a run.

  Linwood began to give thought to how he would approach the search of the many camps throughout the wood. The ladies of the Whoreswood were not easily intimidated, as he knew well, and he was far from certain that they would grant him entry to their caravans, nor give him any information he requested.

  Only time will tell, he thought.

  Ere long the bells were ringing out all around them, and Linwood ordered his men to fan out to find who was ringing them, but to no avail. They stormed along the lantern-lit paths and in time came to the first camp. There was no one to be seen. Linwood went from one empty caravan to the next, finding the doors unlocked and signs of hasty retreat.

  ‘What do you make of it?’ asked Willard.

  ‘Lord Lachlan has been making mischief it seems. Come; l
et us press on to the next one.’

  So they went on throughout the evening, roaming from camp to camp, finding nobody except his men returning from the contest. These he questioned hard for details and added them to the search party.

  Hours passed, and Linwood grew impatient. There were hundreds of women within the Whoreswood and hundreds of their male relations, always out of sight. It was of great concern to him that they had drawn off to their hiding places; the wood was so great that he had very little chance of finding them.

  Linwood was very near to calling off the search when Lord Lachlan, Lord Hadwyn and Lord Belman stepped out from the trees and made themselves known.

  ‘You take a strange road to pay a visit,’ said Linwood, folding his arms across his chest. ‘I had heard there were foreigners marauding across my lands unannounced and find it is the Lord of the Isles and his kin.’

  He directed no attention to Hadwyn and Belman, barely acknowledging their presence.

  ‘I think you know full well why I have come, Linwood,’ said Lachlan, his voice laced with malice and yet just under control. ‘Shall we take counsel together in your keep?’ he said.

  Linwood was all too conscious of his men’s eyes upon him and at last, was compelled to speak transparently.

  ‘The king of New Crinan will receive the Lord of the Isles, but not to receive counsel.’

  Belman took a step forward, but Hadwyn seized his arm.

  ‘Awgren is but lately thrown down and yet treason is abroad so soon,’ said Hadwyn. ‘Do not be a fool, Linwood.’

  Lachlan walked towards Linwood and it took the younger man all he had not to step aside or falter in the face of the Lord of the Isles, in whom wrath now burned so greatly that his face was afire with it.

  ‘You have made your intentions quite clear. I strip you of your rank, title and lands in the name of Queen Cathryn of the Combined People.’ He kept his eyes locked on Linwood but raised his voice so all could hear.

  ‘Let it be known that Lachlan, Lord of the Isles, and Queen Cathryn declare this man traitor. Let anyone who is loyal to the queen who led you to victory against Awgren, take up arms if any should prevent my companions and I from taking our leave.’

  Lachlan turned on his heel and walked back towards Hadwyn and Belman. The men nearby stood with weapons drawn, looking from one to the other. Linwood dropped his hand to his sword.

  ‘Seize them,’ he said and shot a look at Willard.

  ‘SEIZE THEM!’ Willard roared and after only a moment’s hesitation, the castellan’s men betrayed their hearts and ran forward.

  No sooner had they done so but arrows began to fly, and the first three men fell with shafts quivering in their necks. The men behind them checked their progress and looked from Lachlan to Willard to Linwood.

  ‘I said seize them,’ hissed Linwood, anger rising up in him. He drew his sword, but an arrow zipped from the darkness and stuck between his feet.

  Lachlan stood between his friends and turned to Linwood.

  ‘Go home, traitor and make your plans. The queen and I will be coming for you. And let all of you here now spread the word that those who are true of heart should rally to my call when it comes.’

  With that, all three men disappeared into the darkness between the trunks of the trees and all was silent.

  Linwood stood breathing heavily upon the path, sword still in hand. His men stood about him uncertain what to do for the best.

  He marched them back the way they had come and as he passed through the postern gate, he ordered it locked and guarded. Safe within his fortress, Linwood gave thought to what he could do about the lord he sought to usurp, who lingered now within his borders.

  And then the answer came to him.

  ‘Willard,’ he said, seizing the older man by the shoulders.

  ‘We must have that forest swarming with soldiers at great haste. I want all the whores cleared out and Lord Lachlan brought before me.’

  Before long Willard had emptied Stragglers’ End of all its troops, and they marauded through the woods killing all in their path, moving from camp to camp.

  Habit heard word of the massacre before the soldiers reached her own home, and Lachlan’s company helped her rally her people. Men appeared from beneath the trees, and they took turns carrying Habit’s mother as they made a hasty retreat, abandoning the caravans.

  The sound of tramping boots and screams from those who had fallen behind soon reached their ears.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ cried Belman as they ran through the woods.

  Lachlan despaired, knowing their plight was grave indeed.

  He felt Habit’s cold fingers interlace with his own as they fled before Linwood’s troops.

  ‘They’ll pay for this, my lord,’ she said. ‘Come, follow me.’

  Guided only by lamplight, Habit led her people and Lachlan’s company through the woods. The ground began to rise up before them, and Hadwyn stumbled due to the unanticipated incline, yet his brother was there to catch and steady him before they rushed on. Midway up the slope they came to an outcrop of rock. On the grass surrounding it were standing stones some ten foot high. Habit ran across the rock plateau and slipped between two large boulders. Had he not been holding her hand, she would have soon been lost to sight as it seemed that the boulders’ positions formed a maze. Now it was Lachlan’s turn to stumble. He steadied himself against a rock, and looking down, he saw that steps had been cut into the earth beneath his feet.

  ‘Follow,’ said Habit, ‘but watch your footing. Pass the word to your kin.’

  Lachlan did so and followed on with a lighter feeling in his heart, marvelling at how oblivious one could be to the hidden wonders of one’s own realm.

  The steps ran on, twisting and straightening out as the tunnel sloped downwards. Lanterns were set along the way, and the noise of voices and tools could be heard in the far distance.

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Lachlan.

  ‘Our menfolk need someplace to live and something to keep them occupied,’ said Habit, turning back with a coy smile.

  ‘We have crude halls, but much in store. We can hide out here for a time until the danger is past.

  ‘Tell me, are there tunnels leading into Stragglers’ End?’ asked Lachlan.

  Habit turned and smiled.

  ‘Are you ready to become a Partisan?’

  She led him onward.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rowan, like her husband, had never before seen the ocean. She thought of it more and more as they walked, and the prospect of going to sea grew ever more likely.

  Captain Lynch never tired of answering her questions. He told her of his boyhood years in the Folly working on the docks; he spoke of how his father was often at sea and how, when he was seven, he too had gone aboard his father’s vessel, the Gannet. For many years he had learned seamanship while the Gannet travelled back and forth between the Folly to the Isles to the Drift, ferrying goods and timber. The blackened, dead coasts of Tayne and Crinan were so familiar to him that he could trace the route in his imagination if he closed his eyes.

  ‘It’s how I get to sleep when the sleep’s hard to come by.’ He smiled. ‘I lie back with my eyes shut and make the voyage from the Sea Gate at the Folly all the way to Narra on the Butterfly Isle then across to Strewn Men Bay where the Stragglers would come out to us by barge so we need not risk the rocks. ‘Cept in my dreams, my father still stands beside me as he can surely do no more,’ he would say, wistful and sad.

  Rowan’s heart yearned for Lynch at those times when he opened his heart to her and she would take his hand in her own, enjoying the rough feel of his skin. His was a world completely foreign to her. She knew of unforgiving soil, toil and cold water under the watchful eye of a harsh occupying force, but not the romance of the sea or the far-off pine forests of the Isles or the majestic architecture of the Folly. When Rowan found sleep hard to come by, she dreamt of a little cottage in the shelter of tall snow-capped mountains near a river th
at ran down to the sea. On other nights, she thought of passing through the Sea Gate and entering the long canal to the Folly docks before wandering about there, seeing all the splendour and power of a bygone age— escorted of course, by Captain Lynch.

  Riark’s visit had done nothing to soften her heart towards Morrick, and she concealed it from all others. The Dryad had told her how her husband was near at hand, but conveyed nothing of the circumstances. Morrick entered her thoughts often, but now he was but a ragged figure of torment to her. She thought of his unshorn face, dirty and bedraggled, with small, black eyes staring out at her. He bore the tokens of Awgren and had been his right hand, she saw now. She had been the same, she knew. But now she saw the light.

  Morrick travelled with Riark, learning of the forest and feeling his spirit renew in the Dryad’s calming, age-old presence, yet Rowan imagined her husband tearing on behind her like a slavering dog, and the thought hurried her pace.

  She remained unaware that Lord Aldwyn had liberated the Hinterland and, having received the promised visit from Riark, was even now marching back towards the coast under Queen Cathryn’s direction, ready to sail to deal with Lord Linwood.

  Rowan understood only that she was pursued by the husband who had abandoned her, leading to the loss of both her daughter due to his inaction and her home to the Devised. So she struggled on, often in bleak silence, and she thought ever more of new lands and their ways, seeking escape from her current troubles. As she gathered her strength, she took some mastery of her thoughts and rather than dwelling on the loss of her daughter, she looked to the cleanliness of her sons and the health of Captain Lynch, spending many an hour walking beside him and holding his hand.

  Days passed and finally they reached the southwest border of the forest, nigh to the northern shore of Oystercatcher Bay. Here, Lynch hoped, they would find the Combined People had established a foothold where the refugees could find food and shelter before making any weightier decisions about the future - if victory had been achieved.