by Liz de Jager
From an archived report filed in HMDSDI HQ, 1954
We walk for five hundred million miles. Or that’s what it feels like. Occasionally we stop to rest, but mostly we just walk at a punishing pace. It doesn’t help that I know I’m slowing Crow down.
‘You are doing well,’ Crow says over his shoulder. ‘For a human.’
I grimace. ‘Thanks.’
He nods, taking my thanks at face value, completely unaware of the sarcasm. ‘We will have to walk most of the way to the lake edge,’ he says after a few more minutes. ‘Eadric’s forces subdued the Perun’s tribes, gaining control of the gateway that leads to the island.’
I stop as a branch swings back and almost hits me in the face. Crow sighs heavily and gestures impatiently at the branch and it moves out of my way. I gape as it does. ‘The trees are very curious about you,’ he says. ‘Can you hear them talking?’
I shake my head numbly. ‘So how much time will we waste walking to the lake?’ I ask him, ducking below another set of reaching branches. ‘How much will they gain?’
Crow passes back a skin of water which I gulp, not spilling one drop.
‘A few hours only,’ he says, waving his hand negligently. ‘They don’t have a forester with them so their march is slow.’
I nod as if I know exactly what he means. Part of me wonders why I’m even trusting this guy. But, like he said, why would he go through the motions of helping me, if all he had to do was hand me over to Istvan and his pack of chimeras? As we walk he forages and passes nuts and berries back to me to eat. My initial reaction is to decline them but after the first handful of nuts my shakiness dissipates. He fills his water skin in a small stream and passes it back to me. I sit down briefly and drink deeply, relieved that the nausea that accompanies the start of my migraine attack seems to be fading, along with the heaviness in my head.
I thought I’d done pretty well earlier, climbing over obstacles, ducking beneath branches and things, but walking with Crow is like strolling, at a rapid pace, along the high street. He manages to choose the easiest way through the forest, no tree roots to clamber over, no branches to duck. I’m aware too of how noisy I am. I clomp through the forest like a herd of angry buffalo rather than ghost through it as Crow does. I bite my lip in frustration and grudgingly accept that maybe I will have to work on my stealth tactics.
It must be just before midnight when he stops abruptly and I walk into his back. He grabs my arm to steady me. ‘Look, you can see the glow of the campfires of Eadric’s army.’
I turn to follow his outstretched arm. We’re standing on a slight rise and the view is spectacular. For miles around us I see fires burning and with dawning horror I realize exactly how huge Eadric’s army is. If Aelfric’s army looked big to me, his brother’s army is at least four times that, if not more.
Crow adjusts his bow so that it doesn’t whip me in the face as he turns to survey the small clearing. He touches my arm to draw my attention. ‘There will be patrols about. We must be careful.’
I’m too tired to say anything and only nod. He sets off again, this time slower and even quieter still. I watch the way he moves and try and copy it. I get it right, or I think I do, for most of the time but at one stage when I step on something that squirms under my feet, I suppress a squeal and clutch at him in surprise. He pats my arm and I’m pretty sure I can see him laughing at me but he wisely keeps his mouth shut for the next few minutes.
‘We will rest soon, once we are near the lake. I don’t know when they’re planning to perform the ritual, but my bet is either dawn or sunset.’
‘Ritual?’ I ask him, keeping my voice low. I wonder if I’ll ever not feel dumb. ‘How do you know about it?’
He turns his head to look at me. ‘I’m one of the foresters,’ he says, as if it explains everything.
‘You may need to spell this out for me,’ I say to Crow. ‘I get that you are a forester. Is that like a groundskeeper? You keep things tidy in the forest, check on animals and things?’
‘I have been a guardian of the Dark Forest for a long time. For maybe as long as Aelfric’s been king, maybe a bit longer. Time is different here.’ He helps me over a low rock and I like how his touch doesn’t linger. It’s there, then gone. Businesslike and brief. ‘The forest is at the heart of Alba. We nurture it, make sure it stays healthy. If the forest dies, Alba dies. It is simple, really.’
‘And the forest tells you things?’
Crow’s dark head nods. ‘It tells us when it senses threats, or when something has raised its curiosity. It is very curious about you, as I said. Can you hear it whispering?’
I want to tell him no, not to be absurd, but I can hear the whispering. I can sense it all around me, movement in the air above me, the leaves rustling and a great sense of lots of people watching me.
I draw a deep breath and I reach hesitantly for my magic, feeling the raw edges of it where Istvan tore it from me, and I wonder how much of it has been drained from me. It’s difficult to describe quite how strange it felt having another person touch that well of power and mess around with it. The reservoir of power lies there, quietly thrumming, waiting for my attention. Gently, I coax it forwards and upwards and let it surface so that it hovers like a soft film just above my skin.
The touch of my magic as it settles around me is calming and I let out a sigh, realizing suddenly how tense I have been. I look around me carefully. The entire forest pulses with life and energy, a soft luminescence that covers everything. The night is no longer dark.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘I should have done this earlier.’
‘We were wondering about that,’ he says. ‘You don’t use your magic often.’
I shake my head. ‘Usually when I use my magic I become ill. Especially when I use a lot of it. And hungry, I’m hungry for days after I use my magic.’
‘You are far stronger than you think, Blackhart.’ He crouches low and pulls me down next to him. ‘You need to realize that your magic isn’t separate to who you are. It’s part of you. Like your hands or eyes.’ He presses a finger to his lips and motions for me to stay quiet.
Three redcaps blunder past us, trampling the undergrowth. One has a stick he’s using to swat tall bushes. They don’t see us at all. We remain sitting beneath a large fern for a few more minutes. The night around us is quiet and I’m very aware of my pounding heart and Crow’s strong fingers on my wrist. It’s as if my magic has heightened all my senses tonight, not just my sight, the way it usually does in the Frontier. I hear a dull thrumming noise and turn my head in the direction. An owl sweeps past, something clutched in its claws, and I can feel the air of its passing.
‘Let’s go,’ Crow says, slipping sideways past the fern and waiting for me to do the same. ‘Try and keep your magic awake,’ he tells me quietly. ‘Let it guide you through the forest.’
‘I can’t,’ I say in frustration as I follow him. ‘My magic is . . .’ I gesture in frustration. ‘It works only in short bursts. Anything more than me using my sight and I get sick. If I overdo it, I feel like I’ve got the flu for several days.’
We’ve walked a few paces only when Crow says, ‘Down.’
I drop into a crouch and a group of chittering goblins run past, carrying something between them.
‘They’re hunting,’ he says. ‘An army that size needs a lot of food.’
We wait a few minutes before we’re off again. I’m sure it’s my imagination but I’m moving as fast as Crow now, and as quietly.
‘You have no casting abilities?’ he asks over his shoulder and when I shake my head he continues, ‘You can’t propel magic in some form?’
‘Thorn can do that but, no, I can’t.’
‘Have you ever tried?’
I think about it. No. I’ve never tried; I wouldn’t know how. I tell Crow as much.
He looks at me curiously but doesn’t say anything further. It’s strange, talking to him about my magic when it’s not something I’ve been comfortable discussing with o
thers. But somehow, walking in this ancient forest, I feel relaxed about it – more relaxed than I’ve been since it manifested on the night my nan died.
I draw a deep breath and listen to the forest around me shift and creak. As we move on, Crow spends less time watching out for me and more time keeping an eye out for passing patrols. I can smell their cooking fires on the night air and occasionally the sound of music and revelry drifts towards us.
The closer we get to the lake, the more patrols there are. We hurry through the night, one time hiding inside a giant oak tree and stepping out the other side to let a patrol of feral Fae run past us.
I’m finding reserves of energy I had no idea I had, but even so I’m dead on my feet when we eventually stop. Crow instructs me to climb a tree, which I manage without breaking an arm or falling on my back. He shimmies up after I do and once I’m sure of my seat so far up, he shows me the shores of the lake in the distance. It’s maybe three in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. There is a greyness to the sky, though, and a soft creeping mist covers most of the forest around us.
I fall asleep for a few minutes and when I wake up Crow hands me a cup with a spicy drink that tastes of coconut and chillies. He’s cut slices of dried meat for me and I fall on it with gusto. We eat in silence and I like our quiet camaraderie.
‘You’re one of the people who’s been telling Aelfric about Eadric’s movements,’ I say after a while. ‘Have you met my cousins?’
‘I have seen a human boy and a human girl clattering about the forest, playing at spying.’ He frowns. ‘I had to kill three redcaps who were setting an ambush for them. So, if that’s who you are talking about, then yes, I have seen them.’
‘Why has Aelfric sent them when he has you?’ I ask him. ‘And how many of you are there?’
Crow’s teeth flash in a smile towards me. ‘There are only nine foresters in all of Alba. Our roles are hereditary.’ He hands me something else. ‘Bread and conserve,’ he says. ‘I can only guess why Aelfric sent your family into the forest. Maybe it was a way to test their abilities and their loyalty.’
‘Huh,’ I say. ‘Maybe he hoped they’d get killed and he wouldn’t have to worry about having humans in his camp.’
‘Dangerous talk.’ Crow’s voice comes from slightly above me now. He’s standing against the trunk, looking towards the lake. ‘Come, we need to go.’
‘How do you get word to the king about Eadric’s movements?’
‘I send a rook to Petur. He handles all war communications.’
‘How do the rooks get to Petur if the gateways don’t work?’
‘Some creatures, like rooks and crows, don’t need gateways. They don’t belong to either world and so move freely between them.’
This is the first time I’ve heard anything like this. ‘Maybe you should tell Aelfric where we are and what we are planning to do in the morning.’
‘What are we doing in the morning?’
‘Saving Thorn, killing Istvan and banishing these Elder Gods back to their prison where they belong.’
Crow’s face is thoughtful in the half-light.
‘I think I like you,’ he says, his tone serious. ‘Are you sure you aren’t part Sidhe?’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ever tried conjuring a spirit? No, me neither. I watch Crow as he builds a very small fire at the edge of the forest. There’s about a hundred yards of low shrub, then there’s the beach, and beyond the beach is the lake and in the middle of this great lake lies the island. Even from here I can sense the watchfulness of the island. I shiver in my jacket and hunch forward in an attempt to keep warm.
‘Have you done this before?’ I ask Crow, as I keep watch.
‘Once, a very long time ago.’
‘Did it end well?’
He holds out his hand and wiggles it from side to side, indicating a little yes, a little no. I groan. ‘Why do we need this spirit?’
‘It will grant us safe passage across the lake to the island.’
‘And we definitely need its guidance?’
‘Yes.’ He says it so firmly I don’t doubt him. ‘We’re ready.’
From one of his pockets he withdraws a small pouch. He sprinkles the contents into the fire. The smell is strong but not unpleasant. He takes a jagged piece of clear crystal on a leather cord from around his neck. This he dips into a shallow nutshell. It comes out glistening dark.
He holds it over the fire, as you would a pendulum to do scrying. Slowly but surely the crystal starts spinning and, although I watch closely, there is no way to see if Crow’s spinning the crystal or if it’s spinning of its own accord.
I know, I know, after all I’ve seen and been through, I still have doubt. Maybe it’s a human thing, this not being able to believe in the other world a hundred per cent.
A light breeze stirs, lifting my hair away from my face, and I shiver slightly, moving closer to the fire.
The crystal is a blur above the fire, emitting a pleasant humming noise.
‘Shade of time, guardian of the lake, hear our plea. We come humbly before you to ask you to guide our way. A favour given, a favour returned, as it has always been.’ He takes out a very small knife and it glints in the firelight. He raises his hand to make a cut across it, but I lean forward and shake my head. No, this is on me, my eyes tell him. I hold out my hand to him and for a second he hesitates, but then nods. He slides the blade across my palm. It’s not a big or very deep cut, but the blood pools rapidly. Crow takes my hand and turns it so that the blood drips into the fire. ‘We conjure thee, guardian. By earth, air, fire and spirit.’
There’s a soft snick and I feel a gust of air on my cheek, then tickling my ear, as if someone was whispering to me. Then, without warning, a slender cloaked figure is standing behind Crow. The cowl moves towards me and it raises a skeletal wrist.
‘You.’
I swallow against the rising scream in my throat. I know – very stupid of me. What was I expecting? Casper?
‘You dare disturb my rest?’
Crow is standing now too. He edges around the fire so he stands next to me. We both face the wraith. I realize it’s not actually standing on the ground, but is hovering a few centimetres above it.
‘We seek your assistance, spirit. To cross the lake, to the island.’
‘It is forbidden,’ the spirit counters before Crow’s even finished speaking. ‘Forbidden.’
‘We know it’s forbidden, but we have to find a way to cross.’
‘The living cannot pass.’ There is a sibilant hiss at the end of the last word. ‘Lives will be lost.’ Lossssst.
I shudder and look at Crow. ‘Is there any other way we can get there? Fly?’
‘Can you fly?’ he asks me and I have to shake my head. ‘So this is the only way.’
‘Please.’ I don’t notice it, but I’ve moved closer to the wraith. ‘Please, we need your help. It is a matter of life or death.’
The cowl moves to face me and the shadows within seem to writhe. ‘Whose?’
Not what I expected to be asked. ‘All of ours.’ I gesture out to the lake in the direction of Eadric’s army. ‘Please, you must know what’s going on there, why you have an army camped on your shores. They are planning something bad. Really bad.’
The breeze shifts, fluttering the shade’s tattered robes against its slender figure. The gust toys with my hair, tugging hard. I hear giggling and frown at Crow. He looks pale and awkward in the presence of the spirit he’s conjured.
‘Say something,’ I say to him. ‘Help me convince it to help us.’
‘Yes, forester, help convince me.’ Something in the wraith’s voice makes me shift and lean forward. I stare hard at Crow then back at the cloaked figure.
‘Please, Eilian, don’t do this.’ Crow’s voice holds a world of pain and misery.
‘No, we will do this, Crow. Tell me why I should care, why I should help you and the Blackhart, whose quest is being sung of by the West wind itself.’
<
br /> I move back in surprise. Gone is all pretence of ghostliness or etherealness. The ‘wraith’ Eilian stops hovering, planting her feet solidly on the ground as she pulls her hood back.
She is frighteningly beautiful. Wild strong features with eyes like ice regard us intensely. The wind dies down and two small children scamper from the undergrowth to cling to her. She presses them against her and angles their faces so Crow and I can both see them.
In my mind they look exactly how I expect Sidhe children to look. Tiny delicate things with golden curls and wide slanting eyes. Pointy ears are just visible above their curls. The girl giggles, shyly trying to hide her face in her mother’s robes, and as she does so, she shifts and bright butterfly wings flutter from between her shoulder blades.
The shade Crow addressed as Eilian watches him intently.
‘See this man, children? He is one of King Aelfric’s favourite foresters. He could ask any boon from the high king and it will be granted. Don’t you think that’s amazing?’
I’m watching this, my mouth open. What is going on here? The little boy bravely moves forward to look up at Crow.
‘He’s fierce, Mother,’ he says clearly, pointing a sticky wet finger at him. ‘Do we know him?’
‘We know him very well, children. His name is Crow and he’s your uncle.’
A pin could drop and be heard in the clearing. I feel my eyebrows rise in surprise. Not what I expected to hear at all; I wonder if I actually need to be here for this right now. All I wanted was to cross the lake, not watch this family melodrama, however compelling. Crow and his sister look nothing alike. Although he is all dark, dressed in greens with lively eyes, he has a calm about him that settles my nerves. Whereas Eilian looks mercurial and palely beautiful.
‘Don’t do this,’ Crow pleads of her. ‘Now is not the time.’
‘Why would you not want your niece and nephew to know, brother Crow, that all you have to do is ask Aelfric the boon you swore you’d take to him?’