The Broken Forest

by Megan Derr

  "I will definitely remind you," Adamina replied, grinning. "That is a story I need to hear. Sounds like something I would do to myself I had my own house."

  Returning the grin, Grete turned and headed off again. They carefully worked their way through the tangle of thorn-covered trees and shrubs, the ground half-covered with even more of them.

  It was dark when they finally reached their destination. Adamina was so exhausted she could sleep for at least a month, and her stomach long ago had given up complaining of hunger.

  The tower loomed before them like a patch of night with no stars. The field surrounding it was completely covered in rapunzel bushes, the smell of them dizzying, nauseating. From what little she could see, they were snarled in the black thorns. No, not snarled… they were caged by the black thorns. The forest was doing its damnedest to save itself. "That's going to be fun to deal with in the morning." She cracked a yawn, eyes watering.

  Grete rested her head against Adamina's shoulder, overtaken by a huge yawn herself. "I know we have little choice, but I wish we did not have to wait until morning. Sleeping here makes me twitchy."

  "We'll be all right. After all the trouble we had getting here, I refuse to let us be anything else. We will be sleeping in the trees tonight, though."

  "That sounds comfortable," Grete said with a sigh that turned into another yawn. She straightened. "Which trees?"

  "There," Adamina replied, pointing to one a few paces to their right. "It's got two branches big and sturdy enough, so we'll be close to each other if something does go wrong." She trudged over to it, helped Grete climb up and then followed her. "Take the higher branch, unless the height troubles you."

  "Only the idea of falling gives me trouble," Grete replied as she climbed up to the indicated branch. "But I have rope for that."

  Adamina smiled and waited until Grete had settled in. "All set?" Grete nodded, and Adamina swung onto her own branch. When she was as comfortable as she was going to get, she pulled off her necklace and summoned her wolf.

  She appeared further down the branch, lolling her tongue before she settled at Adamina's feet. This is the most trouble you've been in since the wraiths in the Spider Wood.

  Ugh, do not remind me of that. At least I was alone then. If I mess up here, I'll get Grete killed right alongside me. I should have gone to the palace for help.

  Your decision made sense at the time. You like the witch.

  Adamina nudged her with the tip of her boot. Are you implying I wouldn't care about the risks if I did not like her?

  The wolf reached between her legs to nip at her calf right above her boot. Brat. You know very well that's not what I meant. Don't try to avoid the matter by acting dense.

  Who's avoiding? She's lovely, inside and out. The interest is mutual. We'll have a grand time when this mess is over.

  Nudging her leg again, the wolf replied, You don't sound yourself about that.

  Adamina stifled a sigh, not wanting to draw Grete's attention. She reminds me of home, of what it's like to return home. It does not mean anything in the end, except that I have been away from home too long.

  You can return home in a moment whenever you want.

  I would never abuse the family power that way. Emergencies only. I could use a break, but I am not that miserable.

  Yet the witch makes you think of home. Do you want her to be home?

  I've known her for a matter of days, wolf. No.

  You'll never know what could be if you do not try.

  Adamina almost laughed, then, though it would have been a jagged, bitter sound. She had tried before, but people got tired of waiting for a woman who might be gone as briefly as a week or as long as a year. Twice Adamina had returned to notes that were weeks old, filled with accusations and apologies. One man had at least had the decency to wait to say it to her face. Eventually, Adamina had given up. Mostly, work kept her too busy to care.

  Then she met someone like Grete, capable, sweet, funny, tough… and she would probably surrender to temptation in the end and try to make it something it would never really be, though that presumed Grete wanted more than a night or two of fun. Better to enjoy that night or two, and take sweet memories with her, than try for something that was doomed from the start.

  Her magic complements yours, the wolf said.

  That's about as relevant, in the end, as liking the same books.

  I think—

  "Goodnight," Adamina said firmly. Above her, Grete called a soft reply. The wolf nipped Adamina again but subsided and settled down.

  Adamina listened to Grete until she went still and her breathing evened out, then finally allowed herself to sleep.

  Morning came far too soon, bringing with it stiff, sore muscles and a stabbing headache. Adamina groaned, rubbed her eyes, then fumbled in the pack on her lap for something to help ease her damned headache.

  "Does your head hurt as much as mine?" Grete called down.

  "Yes." Adamina dumped a generous pinch of powder in her mouth, then chased it with water. "Do you have anything to take for it? I have stuff here if you need."

  "I brought mine. Shall we reconvene on the ground?"

  Adamina called out an affirmative, waited until her wolf leapt neatly to the ground before swiftly climbing down herself. Grete followed a few minutes later, her movements much more awkward and careful, but deft enough that with practice she would be good at it.

  "I've never seen so much rapunzel," Grete said as she looked over the field, taking in the large bushes of spiny leaves and dark purple berries, all of them caged in by the heavy black thorns. The air was thick with a smell like rotted fruit and hot sugar.

  Looming over everything like a dark castle was the stone tower, mostly crumbled, about as high as two people. What remained had been half-consumed by ivy and thorns; only snatches of the pale gray stone beneath were visible.

  There is something inside it, the wolf said. Not alive, not dead.

  "Marvelous," Adamina muttered, and explained when Grete shot her a puzzled look. "I had better go take a look. Stay here, run to the trees if something seems to change even the slightest bit.

  Grete nodded. "You don't think I should come with you?"

  "I'm only going to investigate; better not to drag you into more trouble than I already have." She reached out and caught Grete's hand, squeezed it briefly. "Be back soon. Wolf, get to work."

  The wolf nosed at Grete's side, then padded toward the snarl of rapunzel and thorns. I do not see any way for us to get through. I think it would take burning them.

  Bad idea. A fire in this place would get out of control fast, especially with a forest this broken.

  Then I think it's on you.

  "Damn." Sheathing the sword she had only just drawn, Adamina unwound the bandages on her left hand, drew a dagger, and then reopened the wound on her left palm and slit the palm of her right hand to match it. She knelt on the ground, set the dagger aside, then dug her hands into the grass, gripping it tight, letting her blood seep into the ground.

  Closing her eyes, Adamina poured her presence and power into the forest. Forest hear me, forest heed me. I am the Huntress, here to serve and protect you. Open the thorns and let me pass. Open the thorns and let me pass.

  The forest lashed back at her, dumping anger and fear on her. Adamina cried out, nearly let go—then held on more firmly, poured more power into it, fought back against the madness that wanted to break her. I am here to help. I will grant you peace. Let me pass and cut the poison out. Open the thorns and let me pass!

  She cried out again when the forest obeyed, as abrupt in acceptance as it had been in refusal. Trembling, she let go of the grass and stood up—and only when Grete stepped in and gently pressed a handkerchief to her nose did Adamina realize it had started bleeding. "Thank you."

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," Adamina replied, mouth quirking. "Just bleeding again; hazard of the occupation."

  Grete hastily dug out supplies and treated h
er wounds, running her hands over the bandages fretfully when she was done. "You do have a penchant for injury."

  "At least these are nothing food and rest won't fix. The forest is so broken here it does not know up from down. Stay here, be ready to run for your life."

  Grete nodded. "Be careful."

  "I'll try." Adamina drew her sword and followed behind her wolf down the small footpath that had been formed where the plants had pulled apart.

  The plants rustled as she passed, and she didn't need to look back to know the path was closing behind her. Going to have to fight her way out, then. Marvelous. She loved fighting with injured hands.

  A new smell washed over her as she reached the tower, but Adamina could not place it until she stepped through the archway and saw what was inside the tower ruins: a body. Well, it had probably been a body at one point. Much like the creatures, it had long since turned into something else.

  That something appeared to be a heart for the rapunzel that grew up through the body, bright and lush and the most perfect plant Adamina had ever seen. Long vines extended out from beneath the body and spread out to cover the floor to the wall, where it grew through cracks and holes, the source of the rapunzel plants growing outside the tower. No wonder the rapunzel is so firmly entrenched in the forest. I was wrong about the madness. Well, half wrong. The forest is torn between protecting its poison heart, and closing it off to save what's left. It really doesn't know up from down.

  Poor forest, the wolf replied. Be careful killing the heart; I fear the forest's retaliation.

  I'm not going to kill it. This forest will snap entirely and take us down with it. I'm going to sedate it.

  The only question was how. She could recall no tales of Huntresses sedating people that had turned into the poisoned, beating heart of a broken forest. Who used the life force of a human to sustain—

  Great Queens, she was an idiot. Her father did something similar, on a much smaller, safer scale. The members of his family were always buried in the rose garden, and over the centuries the magic of the place and all those people combined to build a living bond between manor lord and the roses. When her father had been cursed to live as a beast, the roses had protected him until his mother had come along and figured out how to break the curse. The roses obeyed him, thrived and suffered with him.

  When he had to leave the manor for an extended period, he put the roses to sleep so they would not suffer from his absence. Adamina had inherited her magical prowess from her father; it was part of what made her such a good Huntress. She was the answer to the problem; she deserved to be smacked for staring right at it but taking so long to notice. I am hopeless.

  You are frayed, exhausted, hungry, overworked—

  Yes, yes, all of that, Adamina cut in. Reaching into the small pouch she always wore at the small of her back, she pulled out a small velvet pouch. Undoing the knotted drawstrings, she opened it and tipped out the contents: a beautiful gold ring set with a red rose made of rubies, a single diamond dewdrop resting on the petals, and emerald leaves surrounding it.

  Slipping it on her middle right finger, she crouched over the body and tore the bandages from her right hand, re-opened the wound. Grimacing, she clamped it over what remained of a pale, half-rotted arm, felt her blood seep into it. I am the Huntress, sworn to protect the forests of the Great Queens. Forest, you bound me and so I bid you obey me.

  The body shuddered but did not fight. In the name of the Beast of Roses saved by the Beauty, in the name of the White Queen, the Red Queen, and the Woman of the Hood, I bid you fall into a sleep as deep as night, as heavy as winter, not to wake until I bid you rise. Be at peace, sleep well, dream of the morning to which you will soon wake.

  She could feel it resisting, squirming and twisting to break her grip. Adamina held tighter, repeated every word, then began to hum the lullaby her father had sung to her nearly every night in the garden before he had carried her, fast asleep, to bed.

  Bit by torturous bit the raging heart of the broken forest calmed and went still. Did it work?

  At the doorway, the wolf chuffed. You shall not have to fight your way through after all, and here comes your witch.

  Stop that. Adamina stood and went to the archway, sighed in relief when she saw all the plants had coiled in on themselves as though to guard against a storm or cold. Grete picked her way easily through them, smiling as she reached Adamina. "What did you do?"

  "I put it to sleep. I am hoping you can do something to keep anyone else from coming along and waking it up. This way." She held out a hand, warmth curling through her body at the easy, trusting way Grete slid her own into it, and led the way back into the tower.

  Grete gasped as she saw the figure, tears falling down her cheeks. "Oh, my Goddess. That's my aunt. Was my aunt." Wiping her cheeks, she strode over to the body and knelt above the head, slowly reaching out, but not quite touching. "She must have come back here at some point. I wonder if she meant for this to happen, or if something went wrong."

  Adamina did not know how to say that it likely had not been her aunt's choice, that the transformation into the black heart of the forest would have been excruciating. She would have lived through the entire process, consciousness slowly merging with that of the forest. Any human part of her that might remain, and it was doubtful any did, would be so deeply buried and broken that it may as well not exist. "I would wager something went wrong. But she, and the forest, sleep for now. Can you make it so no one can undo my work, at least for a little while?"

  "I can do that," Grete said with a nod. "It won't be more than that, what amounts to a wall, really, but I can do it."

  "That's all I need. Thank you."

  She stepped out of the way, hovering just outside the tower, wolf at her side, sword drawn—but in the end, all remained quiet as Grete methodically worked, throwing down salt and special herbs as she wove her spell. When it took, it was in a burst of green and yellow light that for a moment looked like a wall of ivy and climbing roses. Then it faded off, leaving only the faint thrum of magic. "That should do it," Grete said, brushing her hands together. "It's a two-fold spell: one part is to mislead, make whoever comes here look somewhere else, not see what is before them. The other part is a wall that requires a key, and in this case I made it a riddle key. It won't stop someone with powerful enough magic from breaking the wall down, but it will confound most everyone else."

  "I hate riddle keys," Adamina said with a laugh. "Only once did I ever answer the damned riddle. Clever, witch, very clever."

  Grete smiled and rejoined her, stepping in close enough it would be so easy to lean in and kiss her. "How are your hands?"

  "Sore, but I'll manage." She did not protest, however, when Grete insisted on treating her right hand again. "Thank you. Shall we get out of this miserable forest?"

  "Please," Grete replied. "If I never see this wretched place again I will count myself the luckiest woman on earth."

  "Agreed." Retrieving her pack and settling it in place, Adamina led the way back into the dark and tangled woods.

  They reached Edge Village a week later, too tired and wrung out to travel as quickly as they had going into the forest. Dusk was falling as they finally left the forest behind, and the smell of wood-smoke and roasting vegetables was most welcome.

  No one was about as they walked, but that was hardly unusual. Since her arrival, Adamina had scarcely seen anyone. Superstition and fear locked doors better than any key.

  It was strange, however, that when they reached the inn there was no one about except Victoria. "Quiet day?" Adamina asked.

  Victoria snorted softly. "So it would seem. I've lived here sixteen years, my lady, and still sometimes this place makes no sense to me. But if the strangest thing happening right now is everyone being slow and lazy, I will count my blessings. At least you'll be left in peace, hmm? I'll fetch a couple of the stable boys to see a bath is prepared for you both. I bet you'd love a good soak after mucking about in those woods for so lon
g. We can't thank you enough."

  "I am always happy to serve," Adamina replied, biting back a whimper as a small pot of soup was set in front of them, along with bowls, bread, and a large pitcher of ale. "Thank you."

  "My pleasure," Victoria said. "Leave anything you want washed outside your door and I'll see it's taken care of." With a parting smile, she bustled back to the kitchen, shouting for the stable boys.

  Grabbing the ladle next to the pot, Adamina dished out soup for both her and Grete, then broke two rolls into pieces and dunked them in the broth between bites of the hearty barley soup. "Not as good as your pumpkin," she said with a wink.

  "I do like flattery," Grete replied, "but I am not responding to it until I've had a bath and some rest."

  Adamina opened her mouth to agree, but it turned into a jaw-cracking yawn that made her eyes water. "No argument," she finally managed, though the words were mostly lost beneath Grete's giggles.

  When the laughter faded, Grete took another bite of soup, then asked more seriously, "The whole village is affected by the spell you put on the forest, isn't it? They really have been poisoned by the rapunzel. We probably are too, though to a very minor degree."

  "Yes, but once we leave here, a few weeks should be enough to clear the rapunzel from our bodies." Adamina grimaced, because she would be returning to Edge in less time than that, accompanied by Huntresses, Sorcerers, and probably soldiers to remove the villagers. Edge would have to be razed right alongside the forest. She was tired just thinking about it. Maybe after it was done she could finally take a month or so off, though she did not dare get her hopes up. "Thank you again for helping me. I am sorry I dragged you into a situation that proved far more treacherous than anticipated."

  Grete shrugged. "It is a problem that my family helped cause, it seems only fair that I help end it once and for all. Anyway, you are the one who took all the harm. Thank you for looking after me, Huntress."

  "Thank you for looking after me," Adamina said, and winked. "Once I am properly rested and do not smell like a refuse pile, I will be happy to show my appreciation."