by Jags, Chris
At that moment, a crash interrupted their conversation. Fawn was standing in the doorway, gaping at her dead parents. Water glopped from the overturned bucket which had landed at her feet, seeping between the floorboards into thirsty soil. Slowly, the girl raised her eyes toward Tiera. Merequio, supernaturally fast, was already behind her.
Fawn’s lips parted slightly. Her left hand flew to her chest as if to ask Me?
Tiera smiled icily back. You.
“I’ve caught us a hare, little princess,” said Merequio softly. One arm snaked about Fawn’s waist while he clapped the other over her mouth.
“I’ll find us a rock,” Tiera returned, excitement swelling in her breast.
It felt good to hunt with her brother again.
XV
“I miss cranmallows,” Niu sighed, stooping to straighten a fern which Simon had unthinkingly crushed beneath his boots. Simon wasn’t sure whether the plant’s wellbeing genuinely concerned her or she’d simply noticed the venomous look Hezben had shot his way. The leshy did not look favorably upon any damage to his woodland, no matter how minor or unintentional.
“Cranmallows,” Simon repeated, thinking of the spongy buns, popular only amongst culinary masochists thanks to their unpleasantly bitter liquid center.
“Yes. They are the only thing from your kingdom which I will remember fondly.” Niu straightened and continued. She began to hum softly, almost nervously, a tune unfamiliar to Simon.
Simon couldn’t think of anything to say, so he said nothing. Did she truly think so poorly of Cannevish, or was she perhaps just avoiding any deeper line of conversation? Either way, Simon felt a sharp prickling of annoyance. Denying that Cannevish had its problems would be foolish, but it was his home, his kingdom, and if anyone was going to criticize it, it should be him, not some foreigner.
Some foreigner. Simon surprised himself with his sudden vitriol. He’d never thought of Niu as some foreigner before; he’d viewed her as exciting and exotic, a lily in a field of dandelions. He was in love with her, whatever she said, yet at times she felt like an unwelcome outsider. Was that the heartstopper’s influence or his own bitterness taking? He couldn’t say.
Would I feel this way if she hadn’t made it clear that her heart belonged to this dead bastard Cihau? He delved into his feelings, unable to unearth a satisfactory answer. All he knew is that he was depressed, stressed out, fatigued, and lonely. He missed his simple life - his father, his friend Jeb, even his bullying cousin Dannon – and didn’t care how childish that seemed. His companions made no secret of their wariness; conversation was sporadic and peppered with forced jollity. All efforts to keep the mood light and insubstantial had the opposite of the intended soothing effect; before long the very sound of their voices were grating violently on Simon’s nerves. He felt as though he were building inevitably toward another explosion.
“Sallinger ain’t far now,” Oswald announced throatily. The giant wasn’t fond of silence. Whenever it threatened to consume the group, he forced it into retreat with some irrelevant remark. Comradeship seemed important to the big man. As far as Simon was concerned, no such unity existed within this group. He felt as though he were surrounded by a bubble, that all of them were, and were simply floating in the same direction, blown by the wind. No compelling cause unified them; they drifted on a current of fate. He could only pray that the flow wasn’t aimless, that there was some purpose to everything he’d endured.
Lost avatar of aimlessness that she was, Sasha wandered along beside him. Simon had ceased to wonder why the bruxa had thrown her lot in with them. She was lonely and lacking direction; that was how he explained it. Sasha had no more idea who she was or what her purpose might be than Simon. Maybe less. Murderous corpse she might be, but despite his misgivings as to her nature, Simon currently felt closer to her than anyone else in the party, possibly the world. She was a monster; so was he. He was now a part of her cold world.
We’ve also both been marked for death for reasons that no sane person could consider just, he thought, conveniently forgetting that just a few days previously, he’d been all for Sasha and her hunters’ mutual elimination. The unfairness of his own predicament continued to prey on him. Had he snubbed a peasant girl, would she have been allowed to misappropriate kingdom resources to have him hunted? Obviously not. He couldn’t comprehend how the nobility could just ignore rules which would have landed any normal citizen, at the very least, some time in a gaol. Had his father survived, perhaps he would have been able to explain why a courtly faux pas was as deserving of a country-wide manhunt as the most vicious of murders.
Some time passed as Simon stewed in his despair. The oppressively endless sea of trees perpetuated his funk. He began to long for another jaggermund attack, if only to break the monotony. All the while, Oswald’s puffing, Hezben’s dark backward glances, Niu’s humming and Sasha’s eerie silence eroded his patience.
Suddenly, the giant stopped. Cursing, Simon narrowly avoiding colliding with him.
“Oh, Hezben,” Oswald said sadly. “Did you have to bring them this way?”
The leshy merely grunted and kept walking. For a moment, Simon didn’t understand what the giant meant. The same claustrophobic tangle of forest still crowded about him, branches clawing his hair, vines snagging his boots. But… was that a wall? Squinting, Simon strove to peer past Oswald’s enormous bulk. Yes, that was certainly the ruin of a dwelling - a modest little cottage by the look of it - the stonework shattered by thick trunks, the wooden roof having been lifted clean off and suspended in the canopy above. Nor did the wreckage look that old – the wood of the roof hadn’t rotted significantly. Simon doubted the building was older than he was.
“I understand what you’re trying to tell them, Hez,” Oswald continued, “But I don’t think they mean harm.”
No answer. Simon passed the overgrown ruin warily – if he was correct in assuming that the destruction was relatively recent, how then had the trees responsible for the demolition grown so swiftly?
“What happened here?” Sasha asked curiously. The giant shook his head unhappily and the leshy’s lips were locked. Another choked and fractured building followed the first, then another, a little larger. Simon realized with a shock that this had once been a small village. The forest had reclaimed it with startling speed. That Hezben had been involved was abundantly clear: the grim leshy was demonstrating what befell unwelcome guests in his forest. Nor were the ruins only of buildings: the inhabitants of this doomed hamlet hadn’t managed to escape the reclamation. Skeletons lay scattered about in attitudes of flight or struggle, many overgrown, mossy, or partially concealed by aggressive sprays of ferns. Some of them were quite small.
“You did all this?” Niu shuddered as she studied a skeleton suspended in a tangle of vines. Its lower jaw lay amidst the mosses on the forest floor, making for the widest scream Simon had ever seen.
“Humans,” Hezben returned coldly, “Are not welcome in my forest.”
“This might have been Brand,” Simon said softly. No one heard him but Sasha, and she made no response.
“Then why not just evict them?” Niu continued, her voice was rising in pitch.
“I’ve endured enough encounters with humankind to despise their duplicity. Humans cannot stand the thought that any territory is denied them. They would have been back in force. I take no chances with your kind.” The last two words were acidic.
“Some of these were children.”
“Indeed. And they would have grown to adopt the attitude of their parents.” The leshy’s speed increased. Where Simon might have expected a cold satisfaction, Hezben was instead trembling with ill-disguised rage. Simon was grateful for Oswald, without whom he was sure he and his companions would already be nourishing the plant life.
The unwelcome tour of the dead village culminated in a visit to the ruins of a small mill, constructed next to a large and sludgy pond. Here, Hezben called a halt, announcing that he ‘had business’, and stalked off in
to the forest. Simon, grateful for the opportunity to rest but unnerved by his surroundings – if anywhere was haunted, it was this place – settled himself near the pond and contemplated the scummy water. Reluctant to slake his thirst with the greyish muck, particularly since his imagination screamed that bodies probably huddled beneath the surface scum, he looked to Oswald for an explanation.
“You have to understand,” the giant said uncomfortably, beset by three demanding sets of eyes, “Hez has had… trouble… with humans in the past.”
“Trouble with children?” Niu persisted furiously. Tears pricked her eyes.
“Trouble with… well, see, it’s like this,” Oswald began to pace, leaving huge depressions in the soggy ground. “Hez used to share this stretch of forest with his woodwives. Caretakers of various parts of the forest,” he explained. “Seven of ‘em, I’ve been told, can’t remember most of their names, and Hez won’t let even me visit their graves. Going to that place is a death sentence for anyone. It’s absolutely sacred to Hez, and… well, I guess I gave away what happened to them.”
“Humans killed them,” Sasha said without inflection. She stood near the millhouse, arms dangling limp at her sides, eyes glinting darkly.
“All seven. Hunters and foresters and criminals, they managed to butcher the lot. Weren’t hunting them specifically, they just got in the way, you know?”
Niu didn’t look mollified. “Surely it was not these villagers who killed them?”
“Well… no… but like Hez says, you lot think every domain under the sun belongs to you and damned who or what you step on to take it.” The giant’s voice was both reproving and anxious. “Each woodwife killed shrank Hez’s territory. He doesn’t control as much of the forest as he lets on, not anymore. Plus he lost seven wives.”
“He also apparently lost a taste for them,” Sasha noted tonelessly. Scratching at his antlers with obvious agitation, Oswald didn’t look like he knew whether to acquiesce or wince. Simon had no idea what the bruxa meant, though he was aggrieved that her words also appeared to resonate with Niu while he stewed in ignorance.
“Hez is a man of many tastes,” said the giant after a beat.
“So,” Simon said gruffly, anxious to show that he’d understood something, too, “Hezben punishes any human who enters his territory with death.”
“Can you blame him? Still, he grows ever so slightly softer in his ways in his old age. He might simply have ejected you,” Oswald said. “But I was glad to find you first.”
“We mean the forest no harm.” Niu drifted over to the millhouse, trailing her fingers along a buckling old fence.
“I know,” the giant replied as she disappeared inside.
“Did these people?” Simon swept an arm around. “Did they mean it harm?” But for a twist of fortune, his father might have chosen to settle here, or Jeb’s family. Vines might be snaking in and out of his own skull.
Oswald wiped imaginary sweat from his expansive brow. “These folk,” he admitted at length, “Simply chose to settle in the wrong place. Of course,” he added defensively, “They also cut down a good amount of trees without permission. That’s something Hez takes personally as well.”
Simon decided that it might be best to avoid stepping on any more ferns in future.
“There is water in here,” Niu called. Eager to abandon the conversation, Simon hopped to his feet.
“Water’s all very well, but I’m hungry again,” Sasha complained as he passed her. Shivering, he followed Niu into the millhouse.
The living area of this building was better-preserved than much of the village. Both the ceiling and the floor were mainly intact. Some furniture had survived the forest’s reclamation, including a wooden table, three-legged chair, and a bed – the latter of which was infested, judging by the smell, by mice. Niu knelt by the remains of a barrel which had collected a substantial amount of rainwater due to a rift in the roof. Simon joined her, gulping down the musty water and splashing his grimy face.
“This is a tragic place,” Niu said at length.
“Yes,” Simon agreed. “I wonder what it was called.” Somehow that seemed important.
Niu smiled sadly. “I suppose this is how we all wind up.”
Water dripping from his chin, Simon stared at her.
“You know what I mean. All of us. You. Me. Those who we have loved and those who have wronged us. All just bones in the end.”
At length, Simon nodded. “I suppose.” Oddly, this melancholy sentiment lifted his spirits ever so slightly. We flail and struggle all the way to the grave, he reflected, but then – at the end, there is peace. Perhaps being bones won’t be so bad. Rather than finding the concept of definitive finality frightening or oppressive, as he surely once would have, he felt strangely comforted. If there is no afterlife, no Great Hall - and I’m not saying that’s true! - then at least I won’t have to bear my burdens forever.
Once his situation had improved - and with it, his state of mind - he would be sure to apologize to Vanyon and renew his beliefs. For now, weary of the world’s weight, he instead reveled in the idea of an end.
“We should move on.” Hezben’s voice drifted to him from without. Apparently the leshy had successfully controlled his temper and was once again eager to be rid of his guests. “Sallinger will be visible over the next rise.”
Simon rose creakily, like a man more than twice his age, and followed Niu outside. Hezben was already a leafy shadow amongst the trees, walking fast. Oswald struggled to keep up with him, beckoning toward Sasha with a meaty hand. Simon and Niu joined the procession. The forsaken little ghost village disappeared behind them. Simon wondered if humans would ever lay eyes on it again.
The leshy was correct: climbing to the crown of the next hill afforded the group their first view of the town of Sallinger. It was larger than Simon expected, and more modern, crowding the banks of a lazily winding river and flanked by a peaceful patchwork of farmland. The road connecting it with the rest of Cannevish and to the nearby Verivista border slavishly followed every curve of the river, with only one bridge uniting the separate halves of the town. Simon’s old persona would have found the tableau picturesque and calming, and a part of new Simon still yearned to be part of it.
“There it is,” Hezben grated unceremoniously. “You will be on your way now, and you will not return.”
“I’m going to take them right down, Hez,” Oswald said placidly.
The leshy rounded on him. “I don’t think the humans need a guide anymore, Oswald. The town is plain to see.”
“Only I promised to show them the paths into the mountains,” the giant said firmly.
Hezben threw his skinny arms into the air, a gesture of exasperation and defeat. “I’m not coming with you.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to.” Simon detected a touch of asperity in Oswald’s voice.
“You won’t have the protection of the forest.”
“I’m a big lad.”
“The humans won’t welcome a giant into their midst.”
“I suppose they won’t. But they won’t bother me, either,” Oswald shrugged.
“Fine.” Hezben sounded angry now.
“It’s settled, then.”
“I suppose it is.”
Simon and Niu stood awkwardly by with eyes averted as the air chilled. Sasha watched the bickering pair with undisguised curiosity.
With another dramatic gesture, Hezben stalked off, swallowed by the forest. Ferns and grasses recoiled from his wrath as he passed. Oswald shrugged moodily.
“Best be off then, eh?” he asked with a reasonable facsimile of good cheer. With that, he started rapidly downhill, Sasha drifting in his wake. Niu and Simon exchanged glances and hurried to catch up.
The trees began to thin. By the time they reached the foot of the hill, woodland abruptly gave way to farmland. Simon hopped over a low stone wall, trespassing in yet another farmer’s field on his way to the river and the road. Hopefully the farmer would fail to notice
them or choose to ignore their passage, as Sasha’s black eyes were ravenous now.
They passed unmolested and turned onto the heavily-rutted road. Fellow travelers stared hard at Oswald, whom, if nothing else, distracted attention from the undead girl and the two fugitives. Niu had pulled her hood up, but Simon didn’t make any attempt at disguise. If he looked as ragged as he felt, he doubted anyone would recognize him. More likely they’d take him for a beggar and shun him.
“Sallinger is welcoming enough to strangers,” Oswald explained as they approached an unmanned gate. “Being near the border and all, they’re a bit more receptive to foreigners than some places. I drop by every decade or so for precisely that reason. It’s a peaceful town. That said, there is a garrison of soldiers stationed here, so it would pay to keep a low profile.”
Simon muttered understanding.
“If there are any supplies you need for the paths ahead, now is the time to buy them.”
“No money,” Simon grunted. “But I’m sure Niu has a solution for that.”
“I have done what I have had to, to keep us alive.” Niu hadn’t failed to notice the mild condemnation in Simon’s tone. Simon gritted his teeth. Her precise pattern of speech seemed less and less charming the longer he had to endure it. Or was that the heartstopper nudging him toward anger again?
Keep calm, he told himself. Keep your mood in check. You have to stay in control.
“Well do what you have to, but don’t involve me,” Oswald said. “It may be that I have occasion to return here in the future, and I’d rather it wasn’t in chains.” He threw Sasha a furtive glance; she returned his gaze expressionlessly.
The four of them passed through the gate. Sitting cross-legged in the shadow of the arch, a guard, previously unseen, glanced up from his game of solitaire and nodded noncommittally. Simon returned the gesture with similar ambivalence. He glanced back at the hilltop from which they’d so recently descended, certain that Hezben was watching them even now from the shelter of the forest. Or more precisely, watching Oswald. Perhaps the same thought crossed the giant’s mind, as he, too, paused to look back before heaving an enormous sigh and stumping into Sallinger.