Heartwood

by Freya Robertson

  She took their heads and led them outside.

  Something rather incredible had happened. The sun had come out. They stared up, squinting from behind their upraised hands as the golden rays painted the landscape with beautiful warm tones. Tears formed in Beata’s eyes. It was still raining lightly, but that just meant the creation to the south of a stunning rainbow that arced across the hills.

  She looked up at the rainbow and blinked as sharp tears stung her eyes. “Poor Caelestis,” she whispered. “It is all my fault.”

  “Nonsense,” said Ida firmly. “Sickness is nobody’s fault. You cannot be blamed because the girl caught a chill.”

  “I should have left her behind in Lornberg,” said Beata, thinking this was another disastrous situation that could have been avoided if she had thought sensibly.

  “Would she have remained there while you continued on?” Ida argued. “I do not think that is the case. She was quite a strong-willed person until the moment she died. It is ego and nothing more to think you can impose your will on another.”

  Beata frowned, wiping her cheeks. “But surely that is what a leader has to do? Otherwise, everyone would do just what they wanted and never follow orders.”

  Ida thought about it, wiping her hands on a cloth as she did so. “I suppose so, in a battle situation. But this does not seem like the same thing at all to me. You are a group of knights who banded together to go on this Quest. Each person is accountable for their own actions. You are their guide, Beata, nothing more. You can lead them, but you cannot force them to choose another path than the one on which they were destined to travel.”

  She walked away, leaving Beata and Peritus looking up at the rainbow, tears still fresh on their faces. Peritus reached down and took her hand, wrapping her fingers in his own. “We will still succeed on this Quest,” he said fiercely. “Caelestis will not have died in vain. We will continue on to Henton, and we will find this Virimage, and then we will bring him back to Heartwood and save the day. Do you understand, Beata?” He turned her roughly to face him and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do you understand?”

  “I understand,” she said, and he released her, satisfied, wiping his face before going back into the inn. But she stayed there, looking at the rainbow, hoping the journey was not all in vain.

  V

  The road from Lornberg to Realberg wound through the peaks and dales of the Seven Hills, a picturesque journey, or at least it would have been if it had not rained steadily the whole time. Gravis, riding at the head of the party, barely noticed the twinkling rivers and fascinating variation in the colours of the fields from the terracotta-red of ploughed earth to the shining emerald-green of meadows. He was too caught up in his own thoughts.

  He had not mentioned to anyone what had happened at the village that night. It sounded ridiculous when he tried to put it into words; he could imagine their responses: “It must have been a trick of the light,” or “Perhaps you were dreaming,” or “How many ales have you had to drink?” How could he explain to them the fear that had overtaken him on gazing at the lit pond, only to see no reflection staring back at him? True, it had reappeared after the cloud passed over the Light Moon, but he knew it had not been there before.

  Or did he? Huddled in his cloak, in his own private world, Gravis found himself suffused with doubts, which soaked into him like the rain that dampened all sounds around him. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps he had drunk too much ale, or had merely been looking in the wrong place. How could he be sure?

  His self-doubt ignited and flamed within him as if his innards were made of paper, and he soon began to think about the Quest and Questioned his ability to complete it. How could Valens have thought him a worthy leader? Even if they made it to the Henge, what was he supposed to do to activate it? He couldn’t even grow the tiny flower that Silva had urged him to do. He thought about the way the daisy had blossomed in Gavius’s hands, and envy surged through him. He had no doubt whatsoever Gavius would complete his mission. He just knew his twin would find his way to the Green Giant easily, would do whatever was needed to be done to open the Node and get the energy flowing, and would return to Heartwood triumphant, probably in time to come down to the Henge and help Gravis out with his own failed Quest.

  He lifted his face up to the rain, trying to stem the hot tears threatening to course down his face. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel this heaviness in his stomach, as if it had been lined with lead and was trying to sink to his boots? He had always known Gavius was the clever one, the strong one; he had never been blind to his own failings but had accepted them cheerfully. Why now was it bothering him so much?

  He knew the answer even as he formed the Question. It was being apart from his brother that made the difference. Gavius was like a huge sun; he lit every room, and the people within were like planets orbiting around him, caught up in his gravitational pull. Gravis felt he knew what the Light and Dark Moons felt like, circling Anguis in a steady, never-ending cycle, looking down on the world with its plants and people and wishing it could be part of it, but condemned to merely watch from the shadows. While he was with his brother, he did not notice the light that emanated from himself was mere reflection from his twin. But now they were apart, Gravis could see himself for what he truly was: darkness, which is really nothingness, because darkness is just an absence of light, and nothing in itself.

  He looked up from his fixed gaze a few feet in front of his horse to see the town of Realberg nestled in the valley between two hills. He looked around, surprised to see the sun setting – it was nearly night-time, and he had spent the whole day in silent gloom, unaware of time or distance passing.

  He looked behind him, relieved to see his party of five still trailing there, Fortis bringing up the rear as usual. They looked tired but smiled as his gaze rested on them, and he gave them a small smile back, suddenly guilty he had not spoken to them all day. It was his role as leader to keep his party together, and he had not fulfilled that at all.

  But he was tired of berating himself, and so he said now, “Come, let us find ourselves an inn for the night, and have food and ale and forget our dreary journey today.”

  The others cheered and the horses picked up their hooves, and so they trotted into Realberg, a bustling Laxonian town, on the main road from Amerle and Frennon to the north. Though the hour was getting late, there was still plenty of movement in the town; many shops were open and tradespeople spilled out onto the street, touting their wares. The party stopped to buy some food, an extra cloak or two and other bits and pieces they felt would aid them on their journey, chatting to the vendors and smiling at the children who ran up to stare at these unusual knights.

  Gravis watched his compatriots talking to the townspeople but felt strangely separated from them, and light-headed, as though he had not eaten for days, although he had stopped for lunch with the rest of them. He spurred on his horse a little further down the road, stopping when it showed interest in a drinking trough. He sat for a moment, people milling around him, then looked down to see a little girl staring up at him, maybe three or four years old. She had a ragged object tucked under her arm, which could have been a dirty, well-loved doll, and sucked her thumb. He looked at her, thinking how blue her eyes were, how clear and how piercing, as if they were seeing right through him.

  As if to confirm his thoughts, someone – presumably her mother – came up to her and took her by the hand and made to walk off with her, scolding her for wandering away, but she resisted, taking her thumb out of her mouth and saying: “That man, Mummy. I can see through him.”

  “Oh come on,” scolded her mother, giving Gravis an apologetic smile before leading her away. Gravis, however, didn’t return the smile. The little girl’s words had chilled him. I can see through him. He held his hand before his face. It looked normal, if somewhat dirty after the day’s ride. Not transparent, anyway. And yet, he thought he knew what she meant. He felt transparent. As if he were fading away gradually, no mo
re substantial than mist over water.

  The others were passing him now, heading down the road, searching for an inn, and so he nudged his horse forwards to follow them, but his heart pounded, and his mouth was dry.

  A little further along was a tavern called the Oak Leaf, a common name for an inn in Anguis, and so after enquiring if they had rooms, the party took their horses to the stable around the back to be rubbed down and fed by the owners’ sons and then went inside. After a long day’s ride, the warmth from the crackling fire was very welcome, and the smell was strangely comforting, thought Gravis: ale mixed with hot meat blended with the rosemary and mint from the rushes on the floor. They sat at two tables, ordered several plates of meat, bread and cheese, and talked quietly about their journey while Gravis stared into the fire.

  “Are you all right?”

  He looked up to see Aranea looking at him with concern. He studied her for a moment, seeing her properly for the first time. She was average height and quite slender, but with the telltale muscles of a trained knight. She had loosened her dark blonde hair from its braids and it hung in a wavy curtain down her back. She was young, although probably not much younger than him, he thought, with smooth, unlined skin and wide greeny-blue eyes.

  “Can you see through me?” he asked, then immediately thought how stupid the Question was.

  She didn’t laugh, however. She observed him thoughtfully, her eyes running over his face, light frown lines crinkling the space between her eyebrows. “I can see you are in pain,” she said.

  “I am not hurt.”

  “I did not mean that kind of pain.” She looked up as the innkeeper brought over their food, and accepted a plate, putting it between herself and Gravis. He was not hungry, but took the bread and meat when she handed it to him. Suddenly, he was tired of being alone, of bottling up his fears. He wanted someone to tell him he wasn’t going mad, that everything was going to be all right.

  He pushed away his plate and said, “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  She looked surprised, but said, “All right.” Picking up a piece of bread and topping it with cheese and meat, she followed him out of the inn.

  The rain had lessened and they threw back the hoods of their cloaks and walked along the muddy streets, which were beginning to quieten as the shops had started to shut.

  Aranea nibbled on her bread and cheese, glancing in the shops as they passed, seemingly content to be quiet and just look and walk. Gravis was glad; after asking her to go with him, he immediately regretted the impulse, as the last thing he was in the mood for was an inquisition. But her presence was strangely soothing, and after a few minutes he was pleased she had agreed to accompany him.

  They walked down the high street, past a couple of other inns which were gradually getting busier, light spilling out onto the darkening road. At a crossroads Gravis stopped, then turned left as he saw a domed building in the distance. Aranea followed him down to the Temple. He stopped outside. It was not unlike the Temple at Heartwood, but on a much smaller scale, and was nothing like as grand. But he liked the familiarity of the large oak doors, the curving stone walls and high, domed roof, and he went inside, welcoming the echoing sound of his boots on the flagstones, and the recognisable smell of incense.

  There were no tiers of seats in this Temple, just rows of chairs surrounding the oak tree that resided in the centre of the room. Like the Arbor and all other temple oaks, it had not shed its leaves during the Darkening, but to his eye the leaves seemed to be hanging on by their fingertips, and the whole tree had a slightly droopy look to it. Still, it was good to see a holy tree, and he went up to it and, putting his arms around the trunk, placed his cheek against the bark. There was no familiar rustle of welcome, but it was good just to feel the rough trunk, and to know this tree, like all in Anguis, was connected to the Arbor.

  After a while he turned to find Aranea. She was walking around the Temple, giving him time to carry out his ritual, looking at some of the embroideries hanging on the walls completed by the townsfolk. He walked up to her where she was admiring a picture of a family tree, the names of various generations embroidered in between the branches.

  She turned to look at him as he approached and smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little,” he said, not knowing whether that was the truth. Feeling suddenly weary, he sank into one of the chairs.

  She took a seat beside him and reached out and took his hand. “What is the matter? Can you not tell me about it? Are you missing your brother?”

  Gravis gave a wry smile. “Yes. But not in the way you mean.”

  She frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “I do not think I can explain. It is like… together we were one person, but now…”

  “You feel like half a person?”

  He looked up at her. “Sort of. It is like… when he left, he took part of me with him.”

  To his relief, she didn’t laugh, nor did she exclaim how ridiculous his words sounded. She just continued to frown, her hand warm in his. “I think I know what you mean. You have been together a long time. It is natural you would feel odd at being apart…”

  “No, that is not what I meant.” He stood up in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “When you are with Gavius, you feel alive, you feel witty and clever, as if you could accomplish anything. But now, I just feel empty. It is like we were a wishbone, and when he left, he took the bigger half. I know it sounds ridiculous, but…” He opened his mouth to tell her about the incident by the pond, but his voice faded as he saw her staring at the floor. He looked down and his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

  The room was nearly dark now, save for the candles placed on the stand to one side of the tree. Their light cast long shadows from the surrounding objects, the chairs, the pulpit: all were casting shadows like felled trees onto the floor.

  All, that was, except Gravis.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I

  The Woods of Brant were pleasant enough to walk through, thought Gavius, except for the fact that he was sure the trees had eyes. He was used to thinking of them as alive, of course, and even to seeing them move, but in these woods he could actually feel them watching him.

  Of course he knew it wasn’t really the trees; around him, somewhere, were the Komis, high up in the branches, watching his every move. He expected continually to feel an arrow in his back, and he kept the party tight together, swords drawn and resting on their saddles, but after three days’ ride there was still no sign of them, and he was growing tired with being constantly on guard, his aching back illustrating how tense he felt. At night they had to take shifts to keep watch, and they were all tired and growing increasingly nervous at the lack of Komis presence.

  Out of the blue, his childhood friend Hodie, riding beside him, said, “What’s that?”

  Gavius followed his pointing finger up into the trees. Ahead of them was the beginning of a walkway lacing through the branches, leading deeper into the wood. They exchanged glances. Gavius began to realise this was not just some outpost in the middle of nowhere. The walkways increased, the branches became filled with houses, and it became clear this must be Brant, the major Komis settlement not far from the Green Giant.

  His heart pounded and his right hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but still there was no sign of anyone living there. Where could they all have gone? He wondered if they were all hiding in their houses, but there was absolutely no sign of anyone, not a rustle or a movement, and he found it difficult to believe they managed to keep everyone – even the children – completely quiet and still. Perhaps the place was abandoned. And yet as he rode close to the beginning of a walkway, he could see one of the wooden slats had recently been repaired with fresh green twine, and he knew that was not the case.

  Yet again, he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The Komis were there; he knew it. And yet they had not attacked. He wondered why. From his history lessons at Heartwood, he knew all about their
invasion of the Twelve Lands over a thousand years before, and had always been taught they were an aggressive nation. Diplomatic parties sent from the Twelve Lands had always met with resistance and had barely been allowed beyond the Knife’s Edge Pass. But so little contact had been had with them for so long, he wondered if they had changed their ways. Although a few Komis filtered through occasionally, such as Silva, the Custos of the Arbor, they were usually from families who had lived on the borders and sometimes even had one Hanairean or Laxonian parent, and so were not able to comment on the society deep in Komis.

  He looked around at the rest of his party, wondering if they were feeling the same sense of unease that he was. Mellis seemed relaxed, but he noted she rode with her longbow lying across her saddle, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. Niveus’s sword was drawn and she looked tense, her eyes darting around the trees. Brevis’s grimace had deepened, showing a deep dissatisfaction with the quietness of the wood. And Hodie caught his eye as he looked over and raised his eyebrows, the small shake of his head evidence of his worry. Clearly, they were all as nervous as he, which didn’t really make him feel any better.

  However, gradually they made their way through the wood; nobody appeared and nothing happened to stop them. The walkways began to grow smaller, the houses fewer in number, and then the settlement was behind them, and Gavius realised they had made it through.

  He let out a long sigh. The others heard it and nervous laughter ensued.

  “I cannot believe we made it through that,” said Niveus, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t speaking too soon.

  “I cannot, either,” said Gavius, “but let us stay alert. We may still have a while to go before we clear the wood.”

  He tried to think about the map rolled up in his bag. Komis was uncharted territory, the area put together from rumours and speculation, and the best he could estimate was they had another three or fours hours before they left the trees and saw the hills where the Green Giant resided.