Stale air filled his nostrils, but nothing waited behind the door. He stepped into a passageway at right angles to the door. The passageway curved to both the left and the right. He chose left and walked along the earthen tunnel. After about twenty yards, it split into two more passages. He hesitated. Was he in some sort of maze? He chose left again, walked a short distance and once again found himself at a fork. That confirmed it: he was definitely in a labyrinth, a maze that appeared to be right under the Temple, maybe even right under the Arbor. Looking closely at the sides of the passage, he could see tree roots embedded deep within them, as if the tree itself was holding up the walls. He could not go any farther without the risk of getting lost. Turning, he went back up the tunnel. He would get himself a long rope and tie it to the door or search for some other way to leave a trail so he could find his way back.
He went down the corridor, went right, then right again. He walked twenty yards, thinking about where he could go to get some rope.
Then he stopped.
The door wasn’t where it should be. Instead, in front of him was another fork.
Nitesco froze on the spot, his heart hammering. When he had entered the maze, he had gone left, then left again. So right and right again should have brought him back to the door. Shouldn’t it?
Perhaps he had been mistaken. He took the right fork and walked a bit further. The door, however, did not appear. After another twenty yards, the passageway forked again, each tunnel looking exactly the same as the others.
Nitesco cursed himself loudly. He should have marked the tunnels with his sword as he walked. But deep inside, he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. He knew the way he had walked should have returned him to the door. It was a magical labyrinth, a maze that could not be solved with logic.
He was going to have to find some other way out.
IV
After the swamps and quagmires of the open fields of Laxony, the Forest of Blades to the south of Heartwood was a welcome change for Beata and Teague. It was still wet in there, of course, as some of the trees were not yet in leaf, but there were enough evergreens to provide some shelter from the downpour, and the ground wasn’t quite as soggy as that which they had been travelling on the past few days.
Beata glanced over her shoulder to check Teague was still with her and hid a smile at the sorry sight he presented. Slouched forward on the horse, he looked like a sodden mass of clothes dumped on top of the saddle. His beautiful black hair was plastered to his head like a helmet, and he showed the beginnings of a black beard where he had not shaved for several days because she would not loan him a blade.
Looking down, she checked his wrists were still cuffed to the saddle and the rope that joined his horse to hers was tied to the reins. She turned back in the saddle. She did not want to look at him. Every time she gazed into those golden eyes, she was reminded of what she had done, and her shame was overwhelming.
The horses’ hooves squelched through the soggy leaves. She wondered what had happened to the bandits that had attacked them on their way from Heartwood, a lifetime ago. There had been no sign of them since they entered the forest. She remembered the attack, and how poor Erubesco had been wounded. She had not had time to call in and pick her up on her way back to Heartwood.
She kicked her heels into her horse’s sides, trying to get it to move more quickly, but it was difficult in the undergrowth; the mare stumbled repeatedly on broken branches and clearly disliked the atmosphere of the forest, where the trees whispered and played with her mane as she passed under them.
Behind her, Beata felt a tug on the rope that joined her to Teague. She ignored it at first; it was a game they played; he would keep doing it and she would ignore it until she lost her temper and shouted at him.
This time, however, it was different; she felt the tension on the rope tighten and her mare pranced impatiently in the leaves in response. Beata twisted in the saddle and whispered furiously over her shoulder, “Will you stop that!”
In reply, Teague put his fingers to his lips and motioned for her to stop. She did so, wondering what the matter was now. He kicked his horse forwards until it stood beside hers and leaned closer to her. She watched him carefully, waiting for a trick.
“We are being watched,” he said quietly.
She glanced around the forest, but could see nothing. “Bandits?” she whispered, her heart rate increasing a little.
Teague’s golden eyes flickered around the trees, then returned to her, his steady gaze making her shiver. “No. They are Komis.”
“Komis?” Beata was confused. “What are you talking about? What would Komis be doing here?”
“I do not know. I do not understand it myself. But they are here; they are in the trees.”
“Have they come to rescue you?”
Instead he laughed. “I sincerely doubt it.”
“Have they seen us?”
“I am not sure. But either way, we will not be visible much longer.”
“We won’t?”
His eyes glittered. “I have ways of blending in with nature. But to hide you too, I’ll have to get on your horse with you.”
She stared at him for a moment, not trusting him at all. Why on earth would Komis be hiding in the woods? Surely it was just a ruse, a way to try and escape?
But then why try and get on her horse? Surely he would have done better to increase the distance between them, not shorten it? She looked around the forest again, her heart thumping, but still could not see anything.
“They are coming closer,” he said matter-of-factly.
With a sigh, she leaned forward and unlocked the manacles chaining his hands to the saddle. Smoothly, he slipped off his horse. Untying the rope binding them together, he turned the horse and smacked its rump. The horse trotted off a short way and then turned to look at them. Teague ignored it. “I cannot disguise her as well.” Coming up to Beata’s mare, he lifted himself up behind her.
Beata felt the warmth of him against her back. Every muscle tensed as she waited for him to hit her over the head or try and strangle her or something, but he didn’t; he put his arms around her waist, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was quiet for a moment, and through the whispering leaves and pattering of rain she heard him deepen his breathing, concentrating.
After a few moments, the strangest thing began to happen. Around them, the air started to shimmer and blur, as if the forest had been recently painted and the water was starting to smudge the edges. The effect ended about three feet from them in any direction, as if they had been encased in a giant bubble.
“It is done,” he whispered in her ear. His soft breath made her tingle all over, and she closed her eyes and swallowed. Every nerve was aware of his warmth pressed tightly against her back.
Now was not the time to get lost in foolish daydreams, she scolded herself, and, kicking the mare’s sides, she began to guide her forward through the forest.
“Why cannot the Komis see through your disguise?” she asked.
“All Komis have some connection with the land, but mine is stronger than most.”
“Why?”
“I do not know.”
Beata lapsed into silence, aware that if indeed there were people hiding in the woods, they might still hear them even if they couldn’t see them. She thought about his strange talent and wondered why it was so strong in him but guessed maybe it was just one of those things, like being able to sing, or carve wood. Sometimes you were just born with it.
They had only gone a few hundred yards when there was some rustling in a tree above her head, and Beata looked up with a gasp to see a figure sitting on a branch, sharpening a sword. It was clearly a Komis: the dark hair and gold eyes were distinctive. She held her breath as the horse passed underneath, but the figure did not move, and she realised they truly could not be seen.
They passed several other Komis on their journey through the forest, but each time they moved unseen, and Beata gradually began to relax. Howe
ver, it still did not solve the Question of why they were there. She felt very uneasy at the thought of all those warriors so near to Heartwood.
She had calculated they were perhaps five minutes from the far edge of the forest when they came upon a small clearing in which there were a group of about ten Komis deep in discussion. Beata edged the horse around the outside of the clearing to avoid them and held her breath when the mare stepped on a twig that snapped loudly, but although one of the warriors looked over, he clearly saw nothing of interest and soon returned to the discussion.
As they moved away, she whispered to Teague: “Could you hear what they were saying?”
“Yes,” he murmured into her ear. “They were talking of the rising waters. Apparently, the Flumen has burst its banks.”
“Oh, no.” Beata bit her lip. The flood, and the fact that it looked like there was a large Komis army camped outside Heartwood, would mean they would have closed the gates. There was no chance of them accessing the secret passageway into the grounds, either, as the Komis were camped out at the forest entrance, which they had passed along the way.
Even as she sat worrying about how to get in, the trees thinned and the countryside opened up before them. Beata reined in the mare, and they both stared silently at the vista in front of them.
The road and fields were so flooded, it almost looked like one big river between them and Heartwood. The few small pockets of high ground that were left were filled with Komis soldiers, and Beata sensed they wouldn’t last much longer. The continual downpour made the air look like there was a thick fog. She still didn’t know why the Komis were there, but there was no way a war could be waged in such conditions.
“What shall we do?” she said softly, her spirits sinking.
Teague sighed softly in her ear. “We shall have to keep as close to the mountains as possible. I can give us some protection, but it will not be as good out in the open as it was in the forest. We shall have to be prepared in case we are seen.”
“There is nothing else we can do,” said Beata. She had managed to bring Teague all this way, and yet it still seemed as if there was so far to go. She could not see how they could possibly make it to Heartwood, and even if they did, how were they to get into the complex? They would have to take it one step at a time.
“Ready?” she asked Teague.
“I am ready.”
They both pulled the hoods of their cloaks well over their heads. Then, nudging the mare forward, they left the sanctuary of the trees and went out into the open.
Instantly, they were struck by how hard it was raining: the downpour seemed to have increased since they entered the forest only hours before. Beata edged the horse towards the mountain side of the road, but she was beginning to doubt the Komis would be able to see them, anyway – how could anyone see anything in this rain?
It was not far to Heartwood, but it was hard going. The mare splashed through the puddles and shied occasionally at the deeper water lying across the road. The nearer they got, the deeper the puddles were getting, and as Heartwood began to loom out of the foggy atmosphere, Beata could see the roads out the front were completely under water. That meant the moat was already overflowing.
“What are we going to do?” Teague asked as she pulled the mare to a halt just south of Heartwood’s walls.
Beata remained silent for a moment. It was clear they could not go any further on the mare. How could they get into the complex? With the river still rising, there was no way Valens would open the gates, even if she jumped up and down and told them she had the Virimage with her. Briefly, she wondered if it was flooded inside; after all, the channel ran right through the centre of the Baillium. She remembered they had cut off the inlet at the source.
And then suddenly she realised how they could get in.
“We will have to swim for it,” she said. “Get down.”
“Are your brains addled?” said Teague, swinging his right leg back over the horse and dismounting. “Where are we going to swim to?”
“Aim for the wall,” she said, dismounting as well. “Help me take off my armour.”
She waited for him to make a comment but he said nothing as his fingers began to fumble at the fastenings holding her cloak in place. Removing it, she laid it across the horse’s back and then got him to lift the heavy mail shirt over her head. She placed that on the horse too, shivering in the cold as her leather tunic quickly became wet. She unbuckled it and stood in just her linen tunic, shivering. “Take off anything that will weigh you down,” she ordered.
He removed his cloak but was not wearing any armour. Finally, they both stood there, shaking with cold. Beata turned the horse and smacked it on the rump, and it set off back to the forest with a whinny.
She turned to Teague. His arms were crossed across his chest and he looked positively miserable. “Now,” she said firmly, “we are going to swim across the moat to the wall. At the bottom is the culvert where the channel that runs through Heartwood leaves the Baillium. The channel has been diverted, so although the opening will be underwater, we should be able to make it through into the Baillium.” She sighed. “I am going to have to trust you will not just swim away. You have nowhere to go, unless you wish to try and make it back to your kinsfolk, which doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. You can see clearly there is more than meets the eye here – the Darkwater Lords are on their way, and unless we stop them, the whole of Anguis is eventually going to succumb to them. So your only option really is to come with me to try and help me save the Arbor. I will not tie us together. I am trusting you will do the right thing.”
“I did not think you trusted me,” he said, teeth chattering.
“I don’t. I just do not have any option.”
She began to wade into the water. It was freezing, and the shock of it striking her legs through her breeches made her gasp. “Come on!” she snapped to Teague, who stood on the patch of higher land.
He said nothing, just looking at her, shivering. For a brief second she thought he was going to flee.
Then, suddenly, an arrow came out of nowhere and thudded into the ground next to him. They both jumped, and he spun around. The Komis had spotted them; someone was yelling, and there was movement in the mist.
Without any further encouragement, Teague plunged into the water. He gasped as she had. Turning, she began to wade towards the wall. With her feet, she felt for the edge of the moat. When her toes tipped over the edge, she took a deep breath and plunged in.
The icy water immediately seeped right through her tunic and soft breeches and put cold hands all over her skin. It was hard to get her breath. Beside her, she heard a whizz and a splash as another arrow hit the water. She could not see Teague and did not know if he had followed her. Please don’t let him be hit by an arrow, she pleaded. Not now they had got this far.
Kicking out, she crossed the moat and stopped by Heartwood’s wall. Treading water, she looked up as she heard raised voices. Someone was leaning out over the parapets, but she could not see who it was; they had spotted her, however, and whoever it was yelled to someone inside. They would be watching out for her, she realised. The thought gave her renewed energy.
The entrance to the channel was just below the surface of the water. Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head under, looking for it. The water was moving and there wasn’t much light, and it took several attempts to find it. But she did find it, and she surfaced with a gasp.
As she did so, however, there was another whooshing sound, and then to her horror, she felt the arrow thud into her shoulder.
She screamed. Immediately, she went under and swallowed mouthfuls of water. She surfaced, coughing, but her arm was numb, and she could not keep herself afloat. Where was Teague? Had he left her? It was only what she had expected, she thought, but still, she had somehow hoped he would change…
The pain in her shoulder was excruciating, the cold numbing. Unable to keep her head above water, Beata went under for the last time.
V
Dolosus swam out of Darkwater, keeping as close to the sides of the cavern as possible, staying in the shadows. It might be pointless trying to stay invisible, but there was also no sense in drawing attention to himself. He swam quickly but steadily, knowing it was a long way back to Heartwood, and he was still not as comfortable in his form as the Darkwater Lords obviously were.
Still, he thought he might have a while, as he was sure Thalassinus wouldn’t bother to send just a few guards after him, and certainly wouldn’t come after him himself on his own. The big attack had been imminent, and Dolosus guessed once the High Lord realised Dolosus had got the Pectoris, he would call for the attack to begin. He would send the whole force of Darkwater after his wayward son.
He slipped through the green curtain and out into the wild ocean. The currents were strong around him, and he realised the High Moon must be rising in the sky. The Pectoris weighed heavy on his back, but the Darkwater army would be wearing armour and might be similarly weighed down.
He wondered how the Arbor’s heart was faring in his backpack. He was surprised it had survived its extraction from the tree and also that it was still beating after being taken so deep in the ocean. It should therefore survive the journey back, he thought. But would it mend the tree? Would that horrible rent in the Arbor’s trunk close up around its heart if it was placed back in it?
The ocean was dark and silent, and Dolosus felt strangely lonely as he swam, even though he passed shoals of fish and the large, shadowy shapes of sharks and whales in the deep. For the first time, he wondered what the others had thought of his disappearance on the beach. Procella and Chonrad – what had they thought when he suddenly vanished? Had they guessed he had continued down to Darkwater on his own, or had they assumed he had perished along the way?
And would they have guessed at his betrayal? In spite of the cold, his cheeks burned. He hoped none of them – especially Valens – would ever find out he had so nearly defected.
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