Heartwood

by Freya Robertson

  He followed them down to the river and watched as they stopped to drag down a flat piece of wood that appeared to have come off an old cart. They were obviously going to try and sail it to the other side. The boys began to discuss who should get on the raft and who should swim and push. One of the twins said to the other; “Go on. Why don’t you go on the raft?” to his brother, in a spirit of generosity.

  However, the other twin bristled. “Why? I can swim as good as you!”

  “I know you can. I thought you would like to go on the raft.”

  The brother shook his head. “You go. I shall push.”

  The first twin shrugged and promptly climbed on the raft. But Gravis watched the second brother. His face showed resentment, jealousy and even a little hatred before it became carefully blank as he slid into the water.

  Gravis’s face flamed. Could the other Quest companions see these images? He hoped not. He was ashamed to watch the scene, which he remembered. Although, of course, they would not know he was the twin who refused to go on the raft.

  Watching the brother before he slipped into the water, he saw the golden aura around him dim a little, Gavius’s brightening almost imperceptibly. And at last he began to understand.

  “So you are beginning to get it now?” The voice came from right in front of him, and Gravis blinked as the scene dissipated and he was back on the Henge hillside, the darkness hiding those seated around the stones, the only person visible the one standing directly before him. His twin, Gavius.

  How could this be? Was this truly his brother, brought there by some incredible magic? Or was it just a shadow projected from his head, yet more fabrication conjured by his paranoid brain?

  “I am beginning to understand,” he said hoarsely.

  “So you thought it was I who stole things from you?” said Gavius mockingly. “You blamed your misfortune on me?”

  Gravis said nothing. Already miserable, his shame only compounded his depression.

  “It is always easier to blame someone else than to admit you were at fault,” said his twin.

  Gravis nodded sadly. “It is true. I did think I was the worse student, the least popular knight, because of you. I did not consider it was my doing.”

  “So many times you have wished me dead,” Gavius said bitterly. “And only now you realise you are to blame for your own misfortunes.”

  “I never wished you dead!” gasped Gravis, but his twin just stared at him, and eventually he dropped his gaze. He put his head in his hands. “I never truly wanted to be rid of you. I love you, brother. My own failings were not your fault. I realise now.”

  Sunk in the quagmire of despair, for a moment Gravis did not realise something around him had changed. Then, suddenly, he felt warmth surround him, and he looked up, his eyes widening. The figure of Gavius was still standing a short distance away, but suddenly right before him, Gravis saw his brother’s face, and instantly he knew this truly was his brother, whereas the figure in the background was some sort of copy, like pretending to be in love in a play, and then experiencing the real thing.

  The real Gavius looked into his eyes, and a sob build in Gravis’s throat at the love that was buried deep within his brother’s own orbs. “I am sorry,” said Gavius. “I am sorry for what has happened between us.”

  Gravis closed his eyes and felt a touch like the warm tongue of a dog on his forehead. Instantly, something flooded through him, as when you have a hot drink and you feel it spread throughout your body. He felt a flush right down to the ends of his toes, and he gasped, an incomprehensible mixture of emotions spilling through him.

  Instantly, he realised everything was going to be all right. Gavius loved him and forgave him for the mistakes he had made for all these years, and for the thoughts he had had towards his brother. And the small part of himself he had given to his twin without realising it, through his jealousy and his insecurity, was returned to him.

  Gravis stood, the ground shifting beneath him. The very stones themselves seemed to be trembling. They cast their great shadows over him, almost as if they were claiming him, like giant hands trying to cup him in their palms. Against the darkness, the stones seemed to grow even brighter, and finally he realised he could see what looked like water running up them – not down – but as he looked closer he realised it was lines of energy, not liquid. And the energy erupted from the top of the stones and arced over his head to meet in a single point, the energy bands then combining to form one single channel which thundered down to him, and before he could shout or move, the energy channel struck him through the top of his head, passing through him to the ground.

  Gravis felt as if he had been cast into a billion small pieces and scattered across Anguis. He could see everything – he could see into every house and every castle, and every person’s heart. He saw all his friends on their Quests, he saw Heartwood and the Arbor, he saw to all four corners of the land.

  And then, gradually, as the energy flowed back into Anguis, he became Gravis again, and as the light began to dull, he fell to his knees on the ground. The Node, he realised, was opened. He had completed his Quest.

  But at what price? Because one thing he had seen when he looked across the world was the death of his brother, alone, in an Animus-forsaken hut in the middle of Komis.

  V

  When Dolosus transformed from earth elemental to water elemental, he had thought he was dying. If he had known exactly what was involved in transforming, he thought afterwards, he would not have volunteered to join the Quest. It was clear to him that Nitesco had not given him any more information than had been strictly necessary, and for that, at least, he part wanted to thank him and part wanted to strangle him.

  When Nitesco had said the final words of the incantation, Dolosus had felt something shudder inside him, as if someone had plunged a hand down his throat and was trying to pull his stomach out of his mouth. Instantly, his body had gone rigid. Though he did not see it enter his body, he immediately felt the elemental inside him, burning in his guts. The pain was excruciating. His fingers curled and his back arched as he tried to scream, but no sound came out. He felt as if he was dissolving, every fibre of his being melting, shrinking down. He knew he was going to die – how could you not when such a thing was happening to your body?

  But he didn’t die. Gradually, his earth elemental form collapsed, his essence hidden within the water spirit like a pearl inside an oyster. As he was gradually swallowed by the liquid, Dolosus felt as if he were a giant caterpillar, encased in a glass cocoon. He was still there – he was still Dolosus, and he was in control of the form he had assumed, as if he had slipped on a watery suit. Yet he could still feel the water elemental that encased him. It raged and itched, desperate to get away from his earthly form. But, for the moment at least, he was in control.

  He turned around, the air feeing thick and viscous, slowing his movements. It was only then he realised he was in the sea, part of and yet removed from the ocean around him. He had not thought there could be anything that would be a greater shock than this, but when he looked down he was startled to see he had two hands at the end of two arms – the water elemental’s form had both limbs intact. He moved the limb around in the water, delighted to have it back again, even if it were a false truth. Both hands were almost invisible, just a silvery shadow in the ocean green. Looking down, he was even more amazed to see he no longer had legs but instead his lower body ended in a long fish’s tail, which, although transparent like the rest of him, had the same silver sheen.

  He circled in the water, delighting in the ease with which he moved. No longer did he feel disabled, frustrated by his missing limb. He was whole again, and he felt amazingly at ease and comfortable in his new skin.

  He glanced around him but could not see any of the other knights. He looked up at the surface of the water and was startled to see Nitesco’s face peering down at him, and behind him the forms of the others, but clearly they could not see him, and they soon turned and moved away fr
om the water’s edge. He realised that for some reason, Nitesco’s spell had worked on him, but not on the others. The rescue of the Pectoris was up to him.

  He turned in the water. Instinctively, he knew which direction to go. He appeared to be able to access the elementals’ thought processes. Hopefully, they would lead him all the way there. Turning away from the shore, casting one last glance back at the golden beach and the backs of his companions, he began to swim east, towards the city of Darkwater he knew lurked beneath the waves.

  For a while he swam fairly near the surface, where the water was a light cerulean. Although he could sense that water elementals were more comfortable travelling in the darker waters – and indeed he would have to go deeper at some point to reach Darkwater – for the moment, he felt more comfortable where he could still see the clouds bubbling in the sky, up above the surface, where he belonged.

  He flexed his muscles as he swam. He felt strong, unbelievably strong, and now the strange sensation of wearing a suit of water was wearing off, he felt confident in his new skin.

  Clearly, the water elemental had amazing stamina, he thought as the hours began to roll past and still he felt no tiredness, though he had not dropped the pace. As a knight, he was no stranger to the necessity of keeping fit. Even after his injury, he trained every day: wrestling, carrying out exercises in the combat arena, practising with his sword, jousting, running and weight-lifting. At thirty-four, he would be the first to admit he was probably past his peak, but he was hardly unfit, and could easily spend hours in the saddle, and fight in battle for long stages without losing his breath. But still, he had never felt as vibrant or as healthy before. He felt as if he could take on anyone, or anything.

  He wasn’t sure how long he swam, but gradually his thoughts began to turn towards Darkwater, and he knew it was time to start swimming down into the ocean depths. A dark shape swam by him and he blinked, turning in the water and narrowly avoiding the shark which, although small, snarled to show several rows of sharp white teeth. He froze for a moment, afraid it would follow him, but it disappeared into the darkness. He wasn’t sure if it hadn’t sensed he was there, or if it was aware of him but knew better than to get into an altercation with a water elemental.

  He tried to concentrate now, aware the danger was escalating the farther he descended into the sea. All was darkness, and he was swimming purely on instinct, hoping the water elemental wasn’t leading him astray. But, even as the thought passed through his head, he saw ahead of him, deep in the heart of the ocean, a silver glow.

  He slowed his pace, trying to peer through the gloom to see where the light came from. Gradually, the scene before him became clearer. Eventually, he stopped to take in the fantastic view that lay spread out before him.

  Beneath what he realised must be one of the Gantlos islands, an enormous cavern had been hollowed out of the rock. It was within this cavern the majestic city of Darkwater existed. At the front of the cavern, hanging down from the topmost fringes of the island’s coast almost to the bottom of the seabed, was a long fringe of seaweed, the sides of which were pulled back like curtains to reveal the jewel inside.

  Darkwater glowed like a pearl. Constructed from some kind of lustrous stone, the numerous buildings were clustered on the sea bed and the sides of the cavern, the roads and streets all leading towards a huge palace in the centre, its roof a mass of pinnacles and spires that glittered through the water. Presumably, he thought, that was where the Pectoris would be.

  If Dolosus had been impressed with the size of Heartwood when he first arrived there, he was flabbergasted at the scale and beauty of Darkwater. To think this city had existed underneath the Gantlos Islands all this time! The thought made him both shudder and tremble with awe.

  Turning, he headed for the weed curtain, the water billowing around his silent form like a sail. He swam slowly, knowing the most important thing was to ensure he didn’t draw attention to himself. There was no point in trying to go under cover of night because clearly there was no such thing here; the city was partly lit by strange pearly lamps which, when he swam close to one, were actually like large fish bowls on poles, each containing handfuls of a strange coral that emitted luminescent light. Clearly, this level of light remained the same all the time.

  As he swam, he kept his eye out for guards, but there didn’t seem to be anyone on watch. He began to feel confused, for surely the Darkwater Lords would be expecting some sort of invasion and a rescue attempt of the Pectoris? But then again, maybe not, he thought with rising excitement. Perhaps they were arrogant and presumed the earth elementals would never find a way to transform into water. And who could hold their breath long enough to dive to the bottom of the sea? Even if a swimmer got deep enough to glimpse the lights of Darkwater, there was no way they would survive the water pressure enough to get into the city and swim around and find the Pectoris. So they left the city unguarded – and maybe that meant the Pectoris was left unguarded too.

  That thought gave him hope as nothing else had done since the invasion. He did not realise until that moment how convinced he had been they were doomed to failure. He had doubted every step of the way; well, perhaps now it was time he started to believe they could really be successful. He swam through the heavy curtain into the mysterious city.

  From a distance he had thought the layout of the settlement was similar to one on Anguis, with houses and shops fronting a regular pattern of streets. However, as he swam closer, he began to see the houses weren’t individual dwellings like they were in Anguis cities. With surprise, he realised the whole place had been formed naturally out of some sort of coral and consisted of a maze of tunnels, nooks and crannies.

  He swam slowly through the coral loops. More and more water people appeared, making their way about the city, but thankfully they took no notice of him, and gradually he relaxed as he realised he did not stand out as an invader.

  He swam past shops and houses, past many other water elementals, but nobody spoke to him, and nobody stopped him. He began to feel as if he were invisible, but occasionally people moved aside for him, so he knew they could see him.

  He headed towards the centre of the city and eventually found himself in a large courtyard that fronted what could only be described as a palace. It was formed from the same pearly coral but was absolutely huge, rising above him a good halfway towards the top of the cavern. Topped with turrets, spires and more intricate coral loops and twists, it put their shabby stone castles to shame, he thought, wishing he could take some of the luminescent building material back with him.

  He swam slowly up the front steps towards the palace. There was still no sign of guards, and nobody seemed to be taking any interest in what he was doing. He hesitated at the top, then decided he might as well take the risk and entered the main front doors.

  The entrance room was huge. The ceiling towered above him, hung with the same pearly lamps that were outside. The coral walls were carved with intricate geometric patterns and swirls, some of which had been painted in startling blues and golds. There were a few elementals swimming around, going about their daily business, but nobody stopped him or even seemed to notice him. He swam across the entrance hall, then up the next flight of steps.

  A wide passageway led to another room, and then another, each seemingly more elaborate than the last. Dolosus proceeded cautiously, every sense twitching that something wasn’t right, but still nobody stopped or Questioned him.

  Finally, he entered a wide, open room, with only one piece of furniture in the middle. It was a low table, on which rested one lone object. Dolosus swam slowly up to it. The object sat on a shallow silver tray, and as he neared, he realised it was moving. He stopped in front of it, hardly able to believe his eyes. It was the Pectoris. He knew it immediately, even though he had never seen it before. It looked like the heart of a person, but much bigger, and was the colour of polished oak, although clearly formed from something other than dead wood. It beat slowly as he watched it, still alive, sti
ll hanging onto the dream of the Arbor, where it had resided for so long.

  Mouth open, Dolosus reached out a hand to touch it.

  Then he stopped. Slowly, he turned his head. Silently, twenty or so water elementals dressed in some kind of military uniform had entered the room and now blocked all the exits. And hovering before him was an elemental who was clearly some sort of leader. He was a striking figure. Fully armoured, he was huge, his shoulders broad under the sleeveless tunic woven from some kind of dried weed, the thick, fibrous strands knitted together to form a thick padding. Over this, his upper body was protected by a breastplate of small shells, linked together so they moved with his body while still providing protection to his watery skin. A golden sash proclaimed his role as leader. A short sword hung in the scabbard from his hips, the large pommel inlaid with gold and pearls glinting in the light from the lamps. His face was just a silver shadow in the water, but his eyes were bright green jewels.

  The leader did not speak, but Dolosus heard his words in his head. “Welcome, Dolosus, mighty warrior of Heartwood.” The leader held out his hands. “Welcome, my son.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I

  Teague lay on his side in front of the fire. The flames were dying low, and he longed to get up and poke the embers and make the fire flare, but his shackles were pinned into the earth, and he knew from experience he could not get close enough to touch it.

  He shifted awkwardly, stones and twigs digging into his hips, and sighed. He was not made to lie on the hard ground, he decided. His body was meant for soft beds, for mattresses and blankets and deep feather pillows. Not for him, the beautiful cruelty of nature!

  He shifted again, then froze as he thought he heard a rustle in the trees. He had seen several animals in the forest fringes; a couple of wild boar and a fox or two, to name a few, but he would not be surprised if there was a wolf or even a bear in there. Such was the wildness of Harlton Forest, which bordered the even wilder Komis lands.