by T. A. White
She led Fallon across one rope bridge after another, using the rope ladders to ascend or descend in a circuitous path that took them to the opposite side of the tree. They stopped in front of a red wooden door that sheltered a small hut. Though they were a fair distance from the trunk of the tree, the little house looked old and well cared for. The small branches to the sides and front of the building had little flowers sprouting from them, resulting in the house looking colorful and cheerful.
Shea raised her hand and knocked. She waited until the door creaked open and one pale-colored eye peered out through the crack.
“Good afternoon, Teller Laura. I was hoping I could have a moment of your time.”
The eye’s gaze shifted from Shea to Fallon and then disappeared into the darkness. The door yawned open.
Shea turned to Fallon. “I’ll just be a moment.”
Shea didn’t wait for a response, stepping in after the old woman as she shuffled to her back door. The little house had a small deck that the teller had set a rocking chair and a small desk on. It was a nice space, one that would allow the older woman to sit and enjoy the quiet and peace of the tree and its splendor without every passerby being able to see her.
“You’ve come about the mist,” Laura said as she lowered herself into her chair and picked up the yarn and knitting needles she had stashed in a basket at her side. She rocked back and forth as she worked the needles, the small scrap of knitting growing with each movement.
“I have. Is there anything in your stories about it?”
Laura’s smile was crooked as she looked up at Shea before turning her attention to Fallon who had followed Shea inside. “And who’s this?”
Fallon stepped forward, impressing Shea as he kept his nod polite and his voice respectful. “Fallon Hawkvale, Warlord of the Trateri.”
“Conqueror of the Lowlands. Would-be ruler of the Broken Lands,” Laura finished for him. “I’ve heard about you. Whoever tells your story in the end will be remembered for a long time.”
Fallon’s lips tilted into a grin. “Perhaps, lady, you will do me the honor.”
Laura snorted. “I doubt I’ll be around long enough for that. The years come quick when you get to my age.”
“You’ll probably outlive us all, Laura,” Shea said. “You look much the same as the day I first came here.”
Laura’s knitting paused. “How long’s that been?”
Shea thought about it. “Ten, maybe twelve years?”
Laura went back to rocking. “The days just float on by when you get to my age. Time was, such an event as the mist appearing would have sent me into a tizzy of worrying.”
“So, your people do have record of it,” Shea said.
Laura nodded. “We do, as I expect most villages that kept up with their past do. As your own people do.”
“Do your stories mention anything about the soul trees?”
Laura’s knitting paused, and her faded blue eyes swung to fix Shea with a long stare. “They might. What’s it to you?”
“I’d like to hear them. When we were lost, I thought I noticed something about the trees.”
Laura looked into the distance, her gaze faraway. She was silent for a long time—long enough for Fallon to step closer to Shea and place his hand on her back as he leaned down to say in a low voice, “Are you sure this woman is the right person to ask about this?”
“She’s one of the oldest in the village. She’s also a respected teller, someone who keeps the Airabel’s oral history and speaks it to her people at gatherings and when asked. If anybody knows anything, it will be her.”
Fallon gave her a look that said he had serious doubts that Laura was in the right mind to share anything of note.
“She’s also in possession of perfectly good hearing,” Laura said acerbically, fixing Fallon with a gimlet stare.
Amusement tinged Fallon’s eyes as he gave her a courteous bow of contrition.
Laura harrumphed. “You asked about the trees. I may know something.”
Shea leaned forward in interest.
Laura’s eyes shifted to Shea. “Did you feel it when you were there? The connections?”
Shea nodded. She had.
Laura put her knitting in her lap and looked out at the tree before her. “Our history says these trees exist in many worlds. That their branches lead to different places, ones not ravaged by magic or mist, ones where beasts do not exist and the world was never broken.”
Fallon made a small movement at Shea’s side. She looked up to catch a fleeting grimace before he schooled his face to impassivity.
Laura’s smile was sly as she looked at Fallon. “You don’t believe. That’s alright. I didn’t either for a long time and then I followed one of these branches to a place so utterly unlike this one that I fled in terror. That day, I learned that every story that was passed on to me, even the ones we no longer tell as anything but myth, was true. You see, these trees don’t just protect us from the mist. In a way, they call it to us. They’re one and the same. Two halves of a whole. With the mist will come other things, some wondrous, many terrifying.” Laura picked up her knitting and began rocking again. “You have your work cut out for you, future conqueror. Pick your teller wisely.”
*
Shea and Fallon were quiet as they walked along one of the thick branches, its bark covered by a mossy plant except in the middle where hundreds of feet had worn a path through many years. Each digested the teller’s words and predictions. One thing she now knew was that the tree would protect those touching it from being lost in the mist, but it sounded like it could be dangerous in its own way too.
Shea and Fallon climbed one of the ladders hanging from the branches above, then made their way across one of the many rope bridges as they traveled further and further from the village’s heart.
The air was cool against Shea’s face, while patches of sunlight warmed her as she passed under them. She took a deep breath then released it. She let go of some of the worry eating at her. They were away from all of the responsibilities and duties that came with the Trateri. She was determined to enjoy the next few hours.
The sun was setting the world aflame with a golden glow as it sunk behind the horizon when they finally reached the spot Shea had picked. The golden tint picked up the deep auburn in Fallon’s hair, a color that was only obvious at times like these.
Fallon stopped beside Shea, taking in the scenery around them. Shea had chosen a spot where the branches of the soul tree and the trees surrounding it had interwoven so closely that it blocked out any but the briefest glimpses of the world below. On one side of the branch floor was a deep groove where water had pooled, creating a series of mini pools. From a branch above, a small stream of water trickled down, creating a small waterfall shot through with the hues of sunset. Moss covered everything as it drenched the small scene in lush, verdant greens. A small purple flower that Shea had learned only grew in spring lent a pop of color to the world.
“How did you find this?” Fallon asked, his face expression alight with wonder.
Shea’s shoulder jerked in a half shrug. She didn’t think he would enjoy learning she left her guards behind as she wandered outside of the safety of the camp and village.
The censorious glance he leveled on her said he guessed how but didn’t feel like arguing with her before he turned his gaze back to the small oasis.
“This is beyond anything that I’ve seen before,” he said, as his eyes took in their surroundings.
Shea gave him a small, pleased smile. She thought he might like it, since he was used to the rocky plains of his homeland and the forested mountains of the Lowlands. Nothing like this. Even with all her travels, this place stood out—a place that most of the world didn’t even know existed, for the simple fact that so few people look up.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.” She shrugged out of the pack and set it on the branch at her feet. “I brought food for dinner and a change of clothes for both of us. We can
stay the night up here if you’d like.”
The gaze he shot her said she’d surprised him.
“Or we can go back. I know you’re busy with everything; I just thought it might be nice to take a night to ourselves before things get even crazier.”
They hadn’t had one in a while—if ever. There always just seemed to be something in the way, whether that was one of the clan heads demanding his help with an internal clan issue, or him needing to visit with his soldiers, or having to make battle plans because one of the villages decided to rebel. Shea just wanted a little time to themselves.
“No. No, I’d like this.” Fallon’s gaze was warm on her and Shea gave him a happy smile.
“Good. Race you to the pool.” She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it before taking off at a run for the cool water.
There was a long silence before Fallon gave a war cry and pounded after her, the wood under Shea’s feet vibrating slightly as he gained on her. She hadn’t made it even halfway there before he swooped her into his arms and tossed her over his shoulder as she shrieked with laughter. She wriggled madly until he slapped her on the ass. She yelped before wriggling even harder than before, laughing the entire time.
He walked to the edge of the pool and then stopped. Shea used her hands to lever herself partially upright.
“Don’t you dare. These shoes take forever to dry, and I don’t want to climb down with soggy boots,” Shea told him.
His shoulders heaved in a sigh. One huge arm wrapped around her upper thighs to pin them against his chest. The other got busy unlacing her boots before tugging them off in a feat of strength and dexterity that impressed Shea, despite how hard she thrashed as she fought to escape.
He repeated the act with her pants and underwear until she was hanging over his shoulder, her ass bare to any passing breeze. One large hand came up to cup a cheek before squeezing it. He slapped it again, and this time it stung without the protection of a thin layer of cloth. She yelped and then whacked his ass in retaliation.
His shoulders bounced as a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.
Shea’s eyes closed and she slumped over his shoulder. Crap.
“Yeah, you didn’t think that through, did you?”
“Fallon,” was the only word she got out before she was sailing through the air. She took a deep breath before the water rose up around her, covering her head. She bumped against the smooth wood on the bottom. Her feet under her, she pushed, exploding up.
She slicked her hair back and blinked away water to glare at Fallon. That was her intention anyway. Fallon had disappeared.
“Fallon?” She waded a step toward where he’d just been, noticing belatedly the pile of clothes in his place.
A hand grabbed her ankle and then yanked. She went under with a shriek.
They surfaced at the same time. She splashed him in the face which triggered retaliation as he wrapped her in a bear hug and sank under again. She came up laughing, his hard chest pressed against her back and his arms wrapped around her front.
“Do you give up?”
Shea tilted her head so she could look at his face. “How did you even get undressed and into the water so fast?”
He gave her a smug smile. “I was very motivated.”
She snorted and tried to splash him again. He dunked her twice more.
“Give up yet?” he said in her ear, sending shivers racing down her spine.
“Yes, yes I give up.”
His arms loosened, and she took two steps forward, a smile pulling at her face. She gave him a sly backwards gaze before sending a wave of water his way, feeling victorious when it hit him square in the face.
“Victory is mine,” she crowed before diving into the water and scissor-kicking for the opposite size of the grotto.
The muffled sound of splashing water reached her as he arrowed toward her. She evaded his grasp, slipping from his hand with a move that would have impressed a fish. They played this game for several more minutes until he cornered her at one end of the pool, her hands pinned behind her back and his face close to hers.
“What was that you were saying?” he murmured, a dark wicked look in his eyes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shea tried to keep a straight face but feared the mirth showed through despite her best efforts.
His smile was that of a conqueror, arrogant and dark, and just a little bit cruel. “If you were anybody else, such actions would have resulted in a swift and painful punishment.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Oh?”
He nodded solemnly. He leaned forward pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, following it up with a sharp nip. Shea bit down on her moan, warmth spreading through her core, but she wasn’t ready to give up the game just yet.
“Well, you should know by now, Warlord. This pathfinder rarely does what she’s supposed to.”
Shea twisted her wrists, sliding out of his grip. At the same time, she kicked his leg out from under him in a move Trenton had spent considerable time teaching her over the last few months. Done properly, it could seriously injure someone. Ideally, it would send her opponent crashing to the ground. Fallon staggered but didn’t fall. It was enough that Shea was able to slip past him.
She aimed a smile at him as she treaded water at the deeper end of the pool.
The look he gave her was half fascination, half determination, and all possession. It sent a thrill of adrenaline through Shea. She took off, avoiding his grab. The two of them romped for another hour, each giving as much as they got.
It was a rare opportunity to play, something Fallon told her he’d never had the chance to do as a child. So much of his life was spent protecting his mother or in training that he’d never been able to be a child. While she’d had plenty of opportunity to play games when she was younger, it was a forgotten art until she met Fallon. As an adult, she had to be serious and restrained when living in the villages, not wanting to give them any reason to see fault with her. She’d never realized how much of a strain it had put on her until she’d experienced the light-heartedness playing with Fallon could bring. He was the only person to bring out that part of her, and she took pleasure in these small moments, rare though they were.
Fallon lunged forward, catching her before she could slip away, his momentum carrying them to the side of the pool. A seriousness had entered his face. Shea stood still as he lowered his head ever so slowly to hers, giving her a dozen chances to turn away if that was what she wanted.
She lost patience with the slow tease, bridging that last little distance and pressing her lips against his. For a long moment, his lips remained hard, then they softened and suddenly he was kissing her like he intended to consume her. Like the world might end if he didn’t get inside her. His hands gripped her ass, lifting her and crushing her against him. She helped him by wrapping her legs around his waist.
There were none of the teasing touches of earlier. No delaying the inevitable culmination. It was like someone had lit a match and they were going up in flames.
He was inside her between one breath and another, thrusting up into her and pressing frantic kisses against her throat and breasts. She threw her head back and moaned, feeling her womb pull tight, and those feelings spiral deep inside.
He reached down, rubbing the bundle of nerves just above where they were joined, building the tension in Shea. She was hurtled into climax before she could even think to guard against it. He followed moments later, his groan echoing through the trees.
Finished, he pressed her closer as he rested his forehead against hers. Shea was still breathing hard as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he moved to the side of the pool and lifted her up to set her on it.
They were quiet as they dried off, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. They shared little touches with each other, a caress against the shoulder, a fleeting touch to the back, a press of lips against the chin, telling each other without words the depth of their feelings.
>
They dried off and dressed in the change of clothes Shea brought. She pulled out the food, mostly trail rations—nothing fancy—except for two pieces of fruit she saved for their dessert.
By now the sun had set and even its memory had faded from the sky, leaving only night in its wake. This high in the canopy there were gaps for the sky to be seen, and what a sight it was. This far from the camp and village meant there was no light pollution to obscure the heavens on this nearly cloudless night. It made for the perfect opportunity to lay next to each other and stare up, as the stars woke one by one, until they were a stream of light twinkling across the heavens, sometimes so thickly that they looked like a river of sparkling dust.
It wouldn’t be long now until the main event—the reason Shea had wanted Fallon to see this. It was only visible for a limited time beginning a few hours after the sun set. Not every night, but often enough that Shea had risked the trip.
“This is beautiful, Shea. I can see why you brought me here.”
Shea turned her head to find Fallon staring at her. She gave him a smile, only visible because of the moon and stars. Something over his shoulder caught her eyes. She tapped him and pointed. “Look.”
The purple flowers that had been folded tight in daylight began to unfurl, looking nearly silver in the pale light. Out of each flower a light rose, slowly at first, then with ever-increasing speed until the little treetop grove was aglitter with moving, flickering lights. It turned the grove into a fantastical oasis as the tiny lights became nearly as numerous as the stars above.
“It’s like the stars have come down for us to touch,” Fallon said in a soft voice, reaching out one hand to touch a light that had drifted close.
“This is the only place I’ve ever seen these,” Shea confided. “It seems to be a phenomenon unique to this area. This is a small showing. I’m told that deeper in the forest, the lights are so plentiful that it’s brighter than the sun at midday.”