Heartwood (28 page)

There were no tiers of seats in this Temple, just rows of chairs surrounding the oak tree that resided in the centre of the room. Like the Arbor and all other temple oaks, it had not shed its leaves during the Darkening, but to his eye the leaves seemed to be hanging on by their fingertips, and the whole tree had a slightly droopy look to it. Still, it was good to see a holy tree, and he went up to it and, putting his arms around the trunk, placed his cheek against the bark. There was no familiar rustle of welcome, but it was good just to feel the rough trunk, and to know this tree, like all in Anguis, was connected to the Arbor.

After a while he turned to find Aranea. She was walking around the Temple, giving him time to carry out his ritual, looking at some of the embroideries hanging on the walls completed by the townsfolk. He walked up to her where she was admiring a picture of a family tree, the names of various generations embroidered in between the branches.

She turned to look at him as he approached and smiled. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he said, not knowing whether that was the truth. Feeling suddenly weary, he sank into one of the chairs.

She took a seat beside him and reached out and took his hand. “What is the matter? Can you not tell me about it? Are you missing your brother?”

Gravis gave a wry smile. “Yes. But not in the way you mean.”

She frowned. “I do not understand.”

“I do not think I can explain. It is like… together we were one person, but now…”

“You feel like half a person?”

He looked up at her. “Sort of. It is like… when he left, he took part of me with him.”

To his relief, she didn't laugh, nor did she exclaim how ridiculous his words sounded. She just continued to frown, her hand warm in his. “I think I know what you mean. You have been together a long time. It is natural you would feel odd at being apart…”

“No, that is not what I meant.” He stood up in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “When you are with Gavius, you feel alive, you feel witty and clever, as if you could accomplish anything. But now, I just feel empty. It is like we were a wishbone, and when he left, he took the bigger half. I know it sounds ridiculous, but…” He opened his mouth to tell her about the incident by the pond, but his voice faded as he saw her staring at the floor. He looked down and his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

The room was nearly dark now, save for the candles placed on the stand to one side of the tree. Their light cast long shadows from the surrounding objects, the chairs, the pulpit: all were casting shadows like felled trees onto the floor.

All, that was, except Gravis.

 

CHAPTER NINE

I

The Woods of Brant were pleasant enough to walk through, thought Gavius, except for the fact that he was sure the trees had eyes. He was used to thinking of them as alive, of course, and even to seeing them move, but in these woods he could actually feel them watching him.

Of course he knew it wasn't really the trees; around him, somewhere, were the Komis, high up in the branches, watching his every move. He expected continually to feel an arrow in his back, and he kept the party tight together, swords drawn and resting on their saddles, but after three days' ride there was still no sign of them, and he was growing tired with being constantly on guard, his aching back illustrating how tense he felt. At night they had to take shifts to keep watch, and they were all tired and growing increasingly nervous at the lack of Komis presence.

Out of the blue, his childhood friend Hodie, riding beside him, said, “What's that?”

Gavius followed his pointing finger up into the trees. Ahead of them was the beginning of a walkway lacing through the branches, leading deeper into the wood. They exchanged glances. Gavius began to realise this was not just some outpost in the middle of nowhere. The walkways increased, the branches became filled with houses, and it became clear this must be Brant, the major Komis settlement not far from the Green Giant.

His heart pounded and his right hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but still there was no sign of anyone living there. Where could they all have gone? He wondered if they were all hiding in their houses, but there was absolutely no sign of anyone, not a rustle or a movement, and he found it difficult to believe they managed to keep everyone – even the children – completely quiet and still. Perhaps the place was abandoned. And yet as he rode close to the beginning of a walkway, he could see one of the wooden slats had recently been repaired with fresh green twine, and he knew that was not the case.

Yet again, he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The Komis were there; he knew it. And yet they had not attacked. He wondered why. From his history lessons at Heartwood, he knew all about their invasion of the Twelve Lands over a thousand years before, and had always been taught they were an aggressive nation. Diplomatic parties sent from the Twelve Lands had always met with resistance and had barely been allowed beyond the Knife's Edge Pass. But so little contact had been had with them for so long, he wondered if they had changed their ways. Although a few Komis filtered through occasionally, such as Silva, the Custos of the Arbor, they were usually from families who had lived on the borders and sometimes even had one Hanairean or Laxonian parent, and so were not able to comment on the society deep in Komis.

He looked around at the rest of his party, wondering if they were feeling the same sense of unease that he was. Mellis seemed relaxed, but he noted she rode with her longbow lying across her saddle, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. Niveus's sword was drawn and she looked tense, her eyes darting around the trees. Brevis's grimace had deepened, showing a deep dissatisfaction with the quietness of the wood. And Hodie caught his eye as he looked over and raised his eyebrows, the small shake of his head evidence of his worry. Clearly, they were all as nervous as he, which didn't really make him feel any better.

However, gradually they made their way through the wood; nobody appeared and nothing happened to stop them. The walkways began to grow smaller, the houses fewer in number, and then the settlement was behind them, and Gavius realised they had made it through.

He let out a long sigh. The others heard it and nervous laughter ensued.

“I cannot believe we made it through that,” said Niveus, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't speaking too soon.

“I cannot, either,” said Gavius, “but let us stay alert. We may still have a while to go before we clear the wood.”

He tried to think about the map rolled up in his bag. Komis was uncharted territory, the area put together from rumours and speculation, and the best he could estimate was they had another three or fours hours before they left the trees and saw the hills where the Green Giant resided.

As the horse plodded along, he found himself thinking about his brother, and wondered how he was faring on his Quest. Had he reached the Henge yet? He made a quick calculation in his head. Probably not. They would most likely reach their destinations at around the same time.

He wondered if Gravis was feeling as strange as he was, being apart. He thought about what had happened up at the Knife's Edge. Had that merely been a reflection of himself he had seen, or was it truly some image of Gravis? And if the latter was the case, had his brother saved his life by appearing at the edge of the abyss, or had he been leading him to his death?

Surely it must be the first option? For why would Gravis want to harm him? Gavius loved his brother deeply. Gravis and Gavius. Which is which? It doesn't matter! To him that witticism was more than a joke. They were one person, divided into two. Which made it all the more difficult to be apart.

And yet… He had discussed this with no one, but lately he felt as if part of his brother was with him, inside him. He had first noticed the sensation up at the Knife's Edge, and he could feel it now too. He held his hand up a little way in front of him and moved it from side to side. It was still there – that silvery-grey shadow, moving a little after his hand in a blur. He could not explain it. And although he felt it was something to do with his twin, whom he loved, it sent a shiver down his spine.

The light was beginning to fail, and so they called camp, deciding the next day they would make it their target to reach the hills. They cleared a spot in a ring of oaks and rubbed their horses down, tying them loosely and letting them graze on the grass around the copse. They spread their blankets, made a fire and ate some of the food from their packs. Then, as it grew gradually darker, they curled up in their blankets and dozed, Brevis keeping first watch.

Gavius had no trouble in getting to sleep. The days were long and he was unused to riding such long distances; his muscles still ached and he felt weary after the day. He lapsed into sleep, for many hours being unaware of anything, too deep into slumber to dream.

But gradually, as the hours went by, the dreams began to come. Gavius was not a fanciful knight; he could rarely remember his dreams and never had nightmares. But that night he twitched and tossed as his dream came for him like an animal on the prowl.

He was back at Heartwood. Only this was not his Heartwood – it was a Heartwood of the future, where the Darkwater Lords had returned to smash through their defences and kill all the knights within.

All except himself. He was standing in the middle of the Baillium, facing the Porta, or what used to be the Porta. It was now just a collection of crumbling blocks, the magnificent gatehouse reduced to a pile of rubble. Turning, his heart in his mouth, he looked at the Castellum.

Even in his sleep, he felt the pain in his heart as he looked on what had been in his eyes the most beautiful building in the whole of Anguis. The Castellum was in ruins. There were great holes in the sides of its walls, and the top floor of the Domus had gone completely. Birds nested in the nooks and crevices of the broken walls, and grass grew in the cracks. The building was like a mighty warrior who had been bested in battle, and now sat there broken and forlorn, with no further energy to fight.

Slowly, he began to walk towards the Temple. The domed roof had gone, and the walls were haphazard, some still standing tall and proud, others just blocks of chipped stone. One of the large doors had gone completely; the other sagged on its hinges, the beautiful oak clawed and split.

He stood in the doorway and stared at the scene within. Without its roof the Temple looked smaller. Its interior was a shambles. It looked similar to how it had after the invasion of the Darkwater Lords, only this time the chairs and candles had been smashed to pieces and littered the ground in a carpet of splinters and wax. The windows were gone, the beautiful paintings and embroideries hanging in tatters.

It was all heartbreaking. But what he could not take his eyes off was the Arbor.

Or what was left of it. In the middle of the Temple, where once the beautiful oak had stood tall and proud, was just a dead stump, ending about a foot high off the ground. He walked over to it with horror in his heart. The stump was slightly hollow, and he sensed here, in the middle, was where the Pectoris had resided. But the tree's heart was long gone, its energy depleted, the only thing left a shell of broken wood.

Inside him, something clicked. A phrase repeated itself in its brain. Heartwood. The dead wood of the tree. For a moment he felt a swell of understanding, a clearing of his mind, as if the sun had suddenly come out after all the days of rain. But then something happened and he forgot about his revelation.

From the middle of the tree, smoke began to curl upwards, rising like a snake, coiling towards the open sky. And in the smoke a figure began to form. Gavius stood and watched, finding that his feet would not move in either direction. He seemed frozen, his gaze fixed on the tree. He watched the figure harden like molten iron setting in the mould, and before long he could see who it was. It was Gravis.

Or was it himself? Once again, as on the Knife's Edge, he felt the confusion of being confronted with a figure that looked so like him, and yet he was sure was not him. The oak leaf tattoo was on the right hand, like Gravis's. He stared at his twin, and suddenly he could feel his heart, his own Pectoris, thudding in his chest. Gravis's gaze dropped until it rested on Gavius's ribcage. Then, slowly, he reached out a hand.

Gavius watched the ghostly hand come towards him, stop at his ribs, and then pass into him. Exruciating pain filled him, but still he could not move. He felt the hand close around his heart, then slowly begin to extricate it from its rightful place behind his ribs. In horror, he watched his brother pull it out of his body until he stood there with it in his hand, blood dripping onto his floor. Gavius looked down at his chest, seeing the gaping, ragged hole in the middle. And then he looked up to see his brother start to laugh as, gradually, Gavius sank to his knees and collapsed onto the floor.

 

II

After the incident in the Temple in Realberg, Gravis and Aranea hardly exchanged two words. This was not necessarily her fault, although there was no doubt she had been extremely shocked by what she had seen. She had attempted – as he had at first – to try and explain the absence of his shadow with logical reasoning – it was a trick of the light, or something to do with the angle of the setting sun, or tiredness, or a hundred other reasons that eventually petered out as she came to terms with the fact that she knew there was no logical explanation for it – he had had no shadow, it was clear and obvious to see, and she could not explain it away.

Gravis had walked out of the Temple and back to the inn, not stopping to see if she followed him. On reaching the inn, he had gone straight to the bedchamber and lay down to sleep, turning on his side away from the door so when they entered, the others assumed he was sleeping and did not try and disturb him. And the next morning, he arose and pretended nothing had happened, and after a few failed attempts to engage him in conversation, Aranea joined in with the pretence.