She would act and all would be balanced, then everyone could sleep and things would be as they had before. So he had promised.
She sank into the water and it closed about Declan as she took him down with her. The last that Rowan saw of him was his wide eyes, his last screams turning into gurgled, sputtered chokes.
Rowan leaped over the rail and swam out to where her son had disappeared. She dived deep time and time again, weighed down by her clothes. The cold began to drain her, and she knew as she made one last dive, her eyes unseeing in the dark depths, that she had not the strength to do so again. Strands of hair stuck to her face, and she kicked back up to the surface, gasping and sobbing. She cried out as her flailing arm hit a plank then she grasped onto it. Rowan looked all about her and despaired.
Finally with what little strength remained, she swam back towards the abandoned supply ship and climbed the rungs. She threw herself upon the deck and, her clothes soaked with the blood of the crew, she sobbed into her arm.
Far below her, as she flowed into Declan’s lifeless body through his eyes and nose and mouth and ears, Whiteflow felt a vague sense of satisfaction, yet did not really comprehend why.
Cathryn and Aldwyn took a boat ashore with no more men than were needed to row.
Cathryn remained in the boat while Aldwyn and the others jumped into the surf. They hauled the boat up the beach, and Cathryn stepped out, dry, on to the sand.
‘Remain with the boat,’ she instructed and started for the treeline.
‘Aldwyn,’ drifted back over her shoulder, and he jogged to catch her up, his sword bouncing against his hip.
They moved in silence under the boughs as the light dimmed.
Cathryn’s face showed fury, and her eyes were everywhere. Aldwyn dared not speak given her current mood. He followed on, dutiful and watchful, as she wound her way beneath the canopy. New flowers seemed to spring up about their feet as they walked and Aldwyn marvelled at the peace, broken only by the sound of animals, birds and insects as they went about their survey.
Cathryn stepped up to one of the pines and placed her hand upon it.
‘Riark,’ she whispered.
There was no reply and no sign of the king of the Dryads.
‘Riark,’ she called.
Nothing.
They peered into the gloom and saw tight packed trunks into the distance in all directions, little streams coursing around them in places.
Cathryn leant back against the tree, and Aldwyn crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her with mounting concern.
‘How do you wish to proceed?’ he asked, still watching. She looked down at her feet, breathing hard.
‘I know not, but it is clear our forces cannot make headway through such thick woods.’
‘Given that they are lately sprung up and we know not how or why, it may not be wise to land troops in any case,’ said Aldwyn. She looked up and he saw agreement in her soft, defeated gaze.
‘Come. Back to the boat,’ she said eventually and they set off.
Six days of sailing close to the shore and the view did not change in theme. Though the land reached out and fell away into coves and bays, the forest was unrelenting. Ere long they rounded the headland into Strewn Men Bay and it was confirmed beyond any doubt that the world was changed. Where fleets had lain at anchor, the queen spied the same detritus that Rowan had witnessed around the Isles. Gone were the ships and come was the forest.
Now even the queen’s presence on the deck of the Nightingale could not quieten the crew’s opinions. She regarded the coast in silence.
‘Your Majesty,’ said Aldwyn, conscious of the men’s morale. Cathryn descended to her cabin and closed the door behind her.
The evening wore on and the hands were piped to dinner. Aldwyn ate with them and sat beside Captain Lynch. All speculated as to what had happened, in particular what would have become of the Drifts’ many towns and strongholds. What of its people? After all, the Stragglers made up the bulk of the queen’s army.
There was no singing that night, just more talk. Those who would normally be drunk and skylarking, brooded together instead, mulling over all that they had seen. Some thought they should be away to the Isles or to the Folly. Others thought it only right to make for Stragglers’ End. Aldwyn felt it unwise to divide their force, and his heart told him that pushing into the forest was both a necessity and a mistake. After all, what if the Dryads had taken against them? And yet there were people in there, surely? And Lachlan?
The whole crew waited for the queen to reappear, but she did not leave her cabin all that night.
Aldwyn knocked a few times but received no reply and so he took what sleep he could find. In the morning when he returned on deck, he could see various trails of thin smoke off in the woods, such as would be caused by small camp fires. They were few enough and distant from one another, but it stirred the men’s hearts that there were still folk abroad.
‘Captain,’ Cathryn’s voice made them all jump, concentrating on the land as they were.
‘Your Majesty?’ bowed the captain.
Cathryn was once again in her full armour, and Ailsa was attired likewise.
‘We know not what has taken place and our supplies will not last forever. I will take a party ashore to glean what answers we can. I will send word as to whether you are to go or stay. Must needs ere long you will away back to the Isles and await instruction, leaving but a single ship to take us off.’
She turned to Lord Aldwyn.
‘Would you come with me or stay with the fleet, my lord?’ she asked and though her tone was even, her eyes seemed to implore him to understand some hidden meaning.
And so it was that Cathryn and Aldwyn were set down once more upon the shore of the Drift where tall pines blotted out the sky and crow calls froze the spine.
Lynch stayed with a small party to man the boats, and Ailsa argued strongly not to be parted from the queen; only by direct instruction did she reluctantly yield. Cathryn insisted that this was not a matter for strength of arm or numbers – that a power was at work here with which she must take counsel. Ailsa too stayed with the boats.
Together Cathryn and Aldwyn decided upon the direction of the nearest camp fire and, but a man and a woman travelling together, bearing only what they needed to survive, they set off into the forest.
The battle of the Maw Keep was won. The captain of Linwood’s men took up residence in Cathryn and Lachlan’s quarters, fearful though he was that he would be admonished upon Linwood’s return. The guards had never yielded and had been hard pressed for days, yet the Stragglers had won out and all opposition was slain. The victors had barred the gates into the keep and burned the bodies upon the summit of the utmost tower so that all the Folly could see how fared the elite guard of the city.
The captain summoned his lieutenants to feast, and they made their plans to dominate the rest of the city, content that they had ushered in a new era of empire for reinstated Crinan.
Way down to the south of the Maw Keep stood a circular courtyard with an apple tree planted in a bank of earth at its centre. The guards who had been watching it since Riark’s appearance had been summoned by the city watch when the first sounds of battle drifted down from the Maw Keep. Now the watch had set a siege upon the fortress and most of the Folly was emptied.
So when the first of the Dryads emerged from the tree, it went unnoticed. One after another followed on until the courtyard was full and it was only when they were forced to step up onto the high wall which surrounded the low buildings that the people thereabouts spied them.
The call went up, but to no avail. The city watch were many, many miles distant and the Dryads marauded through the streets, travelling with terrible speed towards the city watch and the gates to the Maw Keep beyond.
Those who lived close to the immense outer wall of the Folly began to feel the ground shake and as though they were being forced up by great plates under the earth, the walls began to rise up ever higher.
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The citizens of the Folly gathered their families and ran from their homes as Oreads rose out of the ground, huge in stature and appearing to heft the mountainous walls upon their broad shoulders. Great grey figures of granite they were; they roared, and their solid facsimiles of muscle flexed as they flung the curtain walls out into the sea, leaving but the ruin of their foundations. The peninsula was once again open to the sea air.
The Oreads’ work was not yet complete. They stomped along the foundations, hurling themselves into the now exposed cross-section of wall, causing the greater heights to crash down upon their infallible living bodies of rock.
All about them men, women and children wove this way and that to avoid crumbling buildings while the Oreads continued their destruction.
The Dryads tore on like great spiders, hurling out limbs and vines to tear down all in their path.
The city watch, high upon the slopes, turned and saw the destruction of the walls. They stood aghast, but not for long. The horde of Dryads swarmed through the streets like a tide flowing towards them. The humans stood their ground, but were swept aside by the force of the advance. Those who were not pulled apart and broken by the Dryads ran down to find their families, if they were brave enough, while those who were not cowered under what shelter they could find.
With the Folly walls torn down and its buildings being pulverised one by one, Dark Oak stepped out into the deserted courtyard.
He looked about him and saw that all was to his satisfaction. Red Maple stepped out after him and together they walked towards the canal to the Sea Gate and there, they waited.
The people of the Folly sheltered in the wrecked buildings and realising they were not being hunted down, they did what they could to gather supplies and stores; some of the farmers even ventured out to check their animals and crops.
By the canal, Dark Oak and Red Maple waited still. At dusk their vigilance was rewarded. Whiteflow rose up from the canal between the broken beams of one of the gates, and beside her was another Naiad, boyish in appearance and familiar to all. Whiteflow and the Naiad held their form and stepped up onto the quayside and there, father, daughter and sons soaked into and liaised with one another, united at last.
They separated once more, and Dark Oak set off towards the Maw Keep followed by his children, whose true names he could no longer remember. The streets were largely impassable in the built-up areas, but only to human feet. The Dryads and Naiads made fast progress up the slopes, shifting in form to suit their need, moving ever onward. They drew near to the Maw Keep, and Dark Oak bade his children hold back.
He shot out tendrils of roots into the cracks in the stone arch and heaved. Supporting stone fell away and as it did so he cast out new tendrils, ripping away at the door.
The Stragglers inside had spied the destruction and fled deeper into the keep. Dark Oak strode after them, still retaining his human appearance, clad in black armour and with white eyes shining. The black ivy of his hair dragged along the floor behind him as he cast aside all he overtook as they ran from him. None stood against him, perceiving his rage and might.
Ere long he reached the throne room, and there he once more cast down the doors. Moonlight shone in through the exposed northern face of the room, broken only by the pillars. Linwood’s men were gathered around the thrones, and Dark Oak strode towards them. They shrunk back from him as he walked, but he made no move against them.
The surviving Stragglers sidled to safety and ran down into the keep.
While the Dryads pulled the Maw Gate from its hinges, and the humans fled before his people, Dark Oak settled down to sit upon Cathryn’s throne.
He looked out to the north and saw that the wastes of the Maw were filling with trees that grew, heedless of the poison the Devised had poured into the soil.
Dark Oak was satisfied, and his children joined him in the throne room.
He spoke,
‘Their cities are broken and their roads are dust. They are scattered and divided.’
He tilted his head and listened. The sounds of destruction had come to an end and the human survivors crept away as stealthily as their clumsy forms allowed. He let them go – they were of no concern to him now.
‘Let them be as all other living things. They will not build beyond their allotted means. They will not gather in great number. Those who rise will be crushed.’
‘Will we not forget? Become idle?’ asked Whiteflow.
‘Only those who return to the trees and the water,’ replied the Naiad that was Declan. He and Whiteflow seated themselves upon benches that looked out upon the Maw. They shimmer in the moonlight. ‘If we few stay as we are, we will still remember.’
‘We can awaken the forest and the rivers at need,’ said Red Maple.
‘And we will set the watch.’ creaked Dark Oak.
Under that same moon, Rowan stepped down into the ship’s boat and struggled with the oars. With some effort, she pushed off and heaving with all her might, she set her mind and will upon reaching land.
I know not where he is, she thought, but I will not lose my last remaining child.
And slowly, slowly her little boat splashed towards the stony beaches of the Butterfly Isle.
In the midst of the forest away to the north, the surviving Stragglers and Partisans made what shelter they could, foraging for roots and berries, hunting amongst the trees.
And though their situation was bleak and they knew not what the coming days had in store, Aldwyn and Cathryn huddled together for warmth by their campfire and were secretly content.
THE END.
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Acknowledgements
Mum, Dad and Anna offered so much support throughout this process, so I can’t thank them enough.
Thanks to Andy, too. Without the many meetings of the Registry of Unusual Absences in various pubs, I probably never would have got this far.
Thanks to everyone who took a peek at the manuscript and offered their advice!
Dark Oak Page 32