Age of Myth (11 page)

“Just me, then,” Aria had said, disappointed.

Persephone had tried to stop her, saying it was stupid and dangerous. She wanted to believe her attempts to hold Aria back stemmed from fear for her friend's life. The truth was she didn't want to be second best. She wanted to be brave but felt like a coward—embarrassed and ashamed.

Aria had entered the forest alone.

No one believed she'd do it, but as they watched, the small girl crept deeper and deeper into the branches and leaves until the underbrush swallowed her. They waited, then called out, but she didn't answer. Hours passed, or so it seemed. To children, time—like the sizes of things—wasn't constant. Persephone eventually panicked and ran back to the dahl to get help.

If only I had run the other way. If only I had run into the forest to save my friend, everything would have turned out so different.

She'd gone only partway up the hill when Aria reappeared. Persephone had heard the cheers behind her. Some called Aria crazy, but there was also awe in their jibes, and Aria had laughed with them. Persephone watched from a distance. She didn't join them. She couldn't, couldn't meet her best friend's eyes, couldn't face seeing herself grow smaller still. Instead, she walked home alone. Aria had called out. Persephone pretended not to hear. Aria shouted she was sorry, but Aria had nothing to be sorry for.

After that, Persephone avoided Aria. Every time they saw each other, Persephone was reminded of her failure and cowardice. A decade had gone by before she spoke with her friend again. The occasion had been Persephone's wedding, and Aria, who was pregnant at the time, stood in the long line to congratulate the new bride. Like all the others, Aria took Persephone's hand, and their eyes met. She expected to see anger, maybe even hatred, but neither waited for her. All she saw was the unbridled happiness of a married woman waiting for the birth of her first child and who wanted the same joyful life for her childhood friend. Aria had forgiven Persephone even if Persephone hadn't forgiven herself.

She had made plans to go to Aria after the baby was born, using the birth as an excuse to visit. She'd apologize for all the years of avoidance and bring a gift for the baby. They would laugh again the way they used to, and all the troubles of the past would fade away. That day never came. Aria died giving birth to her son, Gifford. Maybe the boy inherited his mother's courage. Cursed by the gods, twisted into a tragic wretch, he'd proved them all wrong by living. With awkward hands, he did the impossible over and over, fashioning clay masterpieces that were the envy of every artisan. In his own way, Gifford dared to touch the black tree every day.

Aria died before Persephone could say she was sorry. Sorry for ignoring Aria for years, sorry for pretending not to hear her shouts when walking home, sorry for not running into the trees to save her, but mostly for not accepting her friend's hand and going into the forest.

It had been three decades and Persephone was finally ready to touch the black tree.

“You live out there, don't you?” Persephone asked Suri while her wolf raced ahead of them. Minna paused to smell something before darting off again.

“Yes, ma'am.” Suri walked with long easy strides, swinging Tura's wooden staff, which was slightly shorter and infinitely older than the girl.

“How do you do it? Live all by yourself, I mean. Aren't you scared?”

“I'd be more frightened of living where you do.” Suri looked back over her shoulder at the dahl.

“I don't live alone. There are over two hundred families on the dahl.”

Suri laughed.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Do you know how many families live in the forest, ma'am?”

“Families live in the forest?”

“Oh, yes. There are far too many to count: squirrels, foxes, badgers, spiders, rabbits, hedgehogs, snakes, deer, raccoons, bluebirds, woodpeckers, moose, grouse, owls, weasels, moles, skunks, doves, butterflies—can't forget the butterflies.”

“But they aren't
people.
”

“Exactly,” Suri said with a wink. “You're starting to see my point, aren't you, ma'am? I mean, who wouldn't prefer a family of bunnies, robins, or raccoons as neighbors? And look at the place you live! So much wood decaying around you. Dead bodies aren't a suitable home. The best neighbor you can have is a tree, a
living
tree. They listen more than they talk, provide shade on hot days, give you food and shelter, and don't ask for anything in return.”

“What about the dangers? Bears, for example?”

“Oh,” Suri said with a knowing nod of her head. “Well, we'd have something to worry about if we were a couple of lilies.”

“How's that?”

“Bears love to eat lilies, berries, ants, and mice. If you're not one of those, bears can be quite nice. Playful, but also known to cheat.”

“Does that include The Brown?” Persephone asked with more bitterness than she had intended.

“Grin is…
different.
”

They were at the bottom of a hill, entering a pretty hardwood grove that was still open enough to be dappled by plenty of sunlight. This was where the bright birches of Persephone's youth had grown. They were still there, chalk-white trunks of peeling bark and fresh, bright leaves.

Looking to their left, Suri did a little twirl and waved. Persephone didn't see anyone.

“Who are you waving to?”

“Huh? Oh, there's a holly bush over there I had a conversation with on the way in.” She lowered her voice. “Normally I don't care much for bushes. Most are mean and standoffish, with their thorns and prickles. I suppose they have their reasons. I mean, absolutely everyone steals from them. But that holly was nice.”

With that, Suri strode onward.

They passed the birches, and the undergrowth changed to fiddlehead ferns. The elm tree had been near there, but after so many years, she couldn't pick it out. Persephone's steps slowed until, without realizing, she stopped. A few steps later Suri also halted, as did Minna. Both of them looked back at Persephone with a puzzled expression.

Persephone stood with her hands clenched as she stared at the dark trees ahead. From this point, the land sloped upward. The undergrowth and the forest canopy cast everything in shadow. “This is as far as I've ever been.”

Suri started to laugh but covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

“No, you're right to laugh. It's stupid. I've traveled north as far as Alon Rhist and south to the Blue Sea. I've visited all the dahls and have even seen Mount Mador, from a distance, of course. And although I've looked at the forest every morning from my bedroom window, I haven't gone in, not beyond where the sunlight shines. Not that I needed to. I don't hunt, or cut trees, and there's nothing of interest inside.”

The tattoos above Suri's eyes lifted in shock, but Persephone was too scared to be polite.

“They're just trees, aren't they?” Persephone said the words to reassure herself, but the fear was still there. The old terror clawed, tightening her stomach and making it hard to breathe. “Even a child…even a seven-year-old girl knows that.”

“Good.” Suri took three more strides, but Persephone still hadn't moved. “Still coming?”

“Can I ask a favor?” Persephone reached out. “Would you…would you take my hand?”

Suri narrowed her eyes and glanced at Minna skeptically, then shrugged. “Ah…okay.”

Suri crossed back through the fiddleheads. The delicate plants quivered and bobbed at her passing, but she never stepped on any. Persephone felt the mystic's tentative clasp.

“Lead on, Aria,” Persephone said.

“Who's Aria?”

“A girl I used to know.”

Suri looked up. “You're very odd, aren't you, ma'am?”

Magda was an ancient oak tree that grew in a glade on a hill deep in the forest. It was said she could tell the future and would answer any question posed beneath her leaves. For most people, “asking the oak” was a simple thing, an afternoon's walk. For Persephone, the trip took a day and a night and cost more than one life.

—
T
HE
B
OOK OF
B
RIN

In her mind, Persephone always imagined that the forest beyond the black tree was a gaping maw of darkness filled with malevolent demons, ghosts, and cruel raow that ate people, starting with their faces. Stories told on winter nights spent in a circle around the lodge fire were to blame. Huddled with her feet toward the eternal flame, she had listened while the winds howled, rattling the doors as if something were trying to enter. Most often, stories were told as if they had happened to the speaker, or to a close friend if the hero died, a frequent occurrence. Few of the forest stories were pleasant. No one found fortune or their lost love. Each ended in misery or death. Little wonder, then, that Persephone was amazed by what she found beyond the forest eaves.

Trees with trunks larger than a roundhouse soared to astounding heights, supporting a vast green roof. Shafts of golden light pierced the canopy, painting complex and shifting patterns on a carpet of needles. Moss-covered rocks and beds of old leaves lent a softness similar to Sarah's wool-filled home. At one point, Persephone spotted a pair of deer; delicate and beautiful they stood with heads raised and ears cocked. She glanced away for a moment, and when she looked back, the two had vanished as if they had been apparitions. Suri was right: This was a home—a home of gods—and the best was still to come.

The two had been climbing steadily since entering the trees, and Persephone wondered how they would be able to go much farther if the pitch grew any steeper. Then Suri led her to a crevice in the slope where water sprayed down a tumble of rocks where dirt had been washed away by a falling stream. The water splashed and gathered in pools that overflowed to create a tall, wet, and rocky staircase. A dreamy mist rose, watering lichen and turning the stone a glossy black.

“It's beautiful,” Persephone shouted as she followed Suri up an irregular set of slick stone steps.

Climbing the steps was easier than navigating the dead leaves and thornbushes covering the hillside, but the ascent was steep and arduous. Persephone had to stop several times to rest, making Suri flop down on a rock above her where she'd sit, swinging her slender legs impatiently. When they were near the top, Persephone took a moment to look back down. They were quite high, and the cascade appeared smaller somehow, less majestic. Still, the play of water among the rocks was lovely. Movement near the bottom caught Persephone's attention. Three men were in the process of climbing up.

Sackett was easy to identify. His beard was short and his dark hair hung straight and reached well past his shoulders. The other two were just as easy to recognize. One had a patch over a missing eye, the other lacked a hand. Adler's patch was small enough to reveal part of the scar where the bear had gouged him. He continually shifted his head from side to side, making up for the loss of vision. Hegner had it the worst of the three. He was heavier, and lacking a hand he couldn't scramble up the rocks.

“What are you doing out here?” Persephone called down cheerily. Although the forest wasn't as frightening as she'd expected, Persephone appreciated the company. The bear was still out there.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Sackett answered.

Suri, who nimbly climbed back down to where Persephone stood, asked, “You know these men?”

“Yes. They're from the dahl. Brave men who were with my husband when he hunted The Brown.”

“Minna doesn't like them.” Suri bent down and stroked the wolf. “She is an excellent judge of character.”

Persephone looked at the wolf. “Probably just doesn't like the spears. Sackett is our new chieftain's Shield. We'll be in good hands with him.” Looking back down the cascade, she shouted, “Are you out hunting?”

“Yes, we are,” Sackett shouted back.

“I don't suppose I could persuade you to travel with us for a while. I'd love an escort.”

“Certainly. Just wait for us to catch up,” Sackett said.

Persephone waited as they struggled up the wet stones, using the butts of their spears for stability. Their progress was made more difficult by the large wooden shields slung on their backs.

“The trees are talking,” Suri said. The girl's head was tilted up, watching the leaves overhead.

“They are? What are they—”

Suri held up a finger to stop her, then narrowed her eyes, listening. Persephone listened, too, but all she heard was the wind rustling branches.

“What
are
you doing out here?” Sackett asked. The man had given up trying to avoid the pools and waded through knee-deep water, soaking his sandals and matting the hair on his legs so that it looked like fur.

There is such a thing as being too hairy,
Persephone thought. Despite his luxuriant black mane, Sackett wasn't a handsome man. In addition to all the hair, his deeply sunk eyes beneath a jutting brow gave him a serious, gaunt appearance.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but we're going to talk to a tree,” Persephone explained.

Sackett stopped just two rocks down, catching his breath.

“Did you say,
talk to a tree
?”

“Yes.” Persephone pointed at the girl. “This is Suri and her wolf, Minna. She's our new mystic, who studied under Tura. She's listening to them right now.”

The tattoos on Suri's face made her look serious again. She stared at Sackett, and like Minna, she didn't appear happy.

“Yeah, well, I think it would be best if Suri and her wolf were on their way,” Sackett said.

“Oh, there's no need to worry,” Persephone said. “Minna is perfectly tame, and Suri's our guide.”

“She's not from the dahl. She needs to go.”

“The trees say they know these men, murderers who can't be trusted,” Suri told Persephone.

“Suri, hunting animals isn't murder. We rely on the meat they bring in. We'd all starve if they didn't.”

“I said
get
!” Sackett shouted in a sharp tone that was frightening enough to cause Persephone to jump, but Suri remained oblivious.

Minna was not. With bared teeth and raised fur, the wolf growled.

Sackett sighed. “Can't say I didn't try.” He pulled the shield off his back and looked down at the progress of Adler and Hegner, who were almost up to them. “Adler, go 'round left. Stump, go right. We're gonna have to kill this wolf.”

“Don't call me Stump,” Hegner told Sackett.

“You aren't killing anything!” Persephone exclaimed. “Your weapons are making Minna nervous, that's all. Suri, can you calm her down?”

The men kept advancing. “Adler, you come up. Hegner, stay where you are. I'll block it in; then Adler can slay it. He has the best angle.”

“I order you to stop!” Persephone yelled.

Sackett and Adler chuckled, looking at each other, amused. Persephone had always known laughter to be a warm, friendly sound, but this was cold—the noise a raow might make when tucking itself in for the night on a bed of human bones.

“Don't care what you do with the wolf or the girl. We can move their bodies after,” Sackett said. “But no cuts on Persephone. When her body is found, it has to look like an accident. I'm guessing she took a bad fall on these rocks.”

“What?” Persephone couldn't believe her ears. Her mind struggled to make sense of the absurd and failed.

Adler fanned out to flank Minna.

Suri finally took her eyes off the canopy and looked squarely at Adler. She pointed at him and announced, “The trees say
you'll
die first. They told me you offended Wogan. He doesn't appreciate killing in his woods.”

Suri turned to Sackett. “The trees tell me
you
will die second. Not because you deserve to live longer but so you'll have time to understand. They say you won't be going to Alysin or even Rel. The paths to paradise are shut to you. Your spirit will enter the darkness of Nifrel.”

Sackett's eyes narrowed. “I don't need to be a mystic to predict the future. I'm not the one about to die, little girl.”

“Yes, you are,” Suri said. As usual the girl's tone was wildly out of context. She sounded pleased, almost giddy—a child excited to have been called upon because she knew the answer. “And I get to watch.”

“She's crazy,” Sackett said. “Go on, Adler. Kill the wolf.”

“Now, Minna,” Suri whispered.

Adler was shifting his weight to his back foot and raising his spear when Minna sprang. A hundred pounds of snarling teeth and claws landed on him. Perched on a ledge of slick stone, the man went over. Shield and spear clattered on the rocks, swept away by the water. Adler and Minna both fell one shelf down; Adler landed on a boulder. The back of his head struck the rock, making a hollow sound, a muffled crack. Whether he was dead or merely unconscious was impossible to say, but the one-eyed man wasn't getting up.

Sackett raised his spear to throw it at Minna, but Persephone grabbed the shaft. Although she had hold of it with both hands, Sackett jerked it free and slammed the pole of the weapon into her stomach. Persephone collapsed to the rocks, gasping for air.

“Sackett!” Hegner shouted. The one-handed man used his stump to gesture wildly down the cascade.

Still gasping to fill her lungs, Persephone saw two more men coming up the rocks. Both were strangers. The man out front was tall, beardless, slender, and dressed in shimmering robes, with a silver torc around his neck in the fashion of a wealthy chieftain. But Persephone knew every chieftain of the seven Rhulyn clans and hadn't seen anyone like him before. The second man was as different from the first as a wolf was from a dog. Large and muscled, he had a tempest of black hair and a bristling beard. His clothing was as intriguing as his friend's. Dressed mostly in leather, he also wore a black-and-white-checkered leigh mor bearing the pattern of Clan Dureya.

Sackett tracked Minna's movements, but the wolf didn't attack. She leapt back to Suri's side. The two women looked past him toward the strangers.

Persephone shouted, “Help! They're going to kill us!” With her newfound breath, she started to crawl away from Sackett as best she could.

“This is a private matter,” Sackett called out to the approaching men. “None of your business. Be on your way.”

“The lady just invited us,” the slender man said as he passed Hegner without incident.

“You're a stranger here. Best keep it that way.”

“I'd rather not, so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Malcolm.” The man approached quickly as he spoke, brandishing a spear with both hands. Behind him, the larger man struggled to keep pace. “By what right or authority do you plan to harm these women?”

The two strangers navigated the last of the rocks that Hegner hadn't yet bothered with and stood on equal footing with Sackett, albeit across a shallow pool. The big man had a hand on a naked sword wedged in his belt.

A sword!

Persephone had never seen a man with a sword. They were the weapons of gods, and this elaborately decorated one shone brightly. On his back, she spotted the hilt of another.

Two swords! Grand Mother of All, who are these men?

“Well,
Mal-
colm,” Sackett said. “You must be hard of hearing, so I'll say it again. This is a private matter and none of your concern.”

“You, sir, are a coward, preying on the weak. You're not particularly handsome, either. I'd go so far as to say you're genuinely ugly. Now, let me tell you what I think about your mother. She's—”

Sackett took a splashing step through the pool separating them and jabbed out with his weapon. Malcolm stepped back, knocking the spear aside with his own. Sackett advanced, shuffling his way across the cascade, fighting the thrust of water as he sought to close the distance, but Malcolm backed up just as quickly.

The man wearing the Dureya-patterned leigh mor rushed forward, donning his shield and pulling the sword from his belt.

Sackett raised his shield, expecting a strike that didn't come. The Dureyan didn't swing. Instead, he stepped in front of Malcolm and planted his feet on firm ground. Malcolm moved aside, choosing to watch the fight he'd started.

“Who are you?” Sackett asked, looking nervously at the metal blade.

The big man said nothing and stood in a slight crouch, shield up, sword back.

“This doesn't concern you,” Sackett repeated once more.

“Didn't say it did,” the Dureyan replied.

“Then go away!”

“So you can murder these women?” Malcolm asked. “I think not. Perhaps it's you who ought to
go away.
”

“Be careful,” Persephone said, having regained her feet. “He's skilled with a spear.”

Sackett sneered at her, then lunged toward the Dureyan.

The big man blocked the thrust and brought the sword across his body. The blade caught the end of the spear and cut through the wooden shaft. The sharpened stone tip clattered onto the rocks.

Sackett leapt back in fear. “Hegner, get around behind—” he started to say, but stopped after seeing what the rest had already noticed. Hegner was climbing down and was already close to the bottom of the cascade. “Tetlin's Witch! You lousy cul!” Sackett shouted after him.

Throwing the remainder of his spear at the Dureyan, Sackett turned and started his own retreat. Behind him, Minna growled menacingly. Perhaps he thought the wolf was about to leap or maybe that Malcolm would throw his spear. Either way, Sackett rushed his descent over the slime-covered rocks.