Heartwood (31 page)

For a second he panted, his eyes closed, trying to steady himself. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes.

He was still sitting in the middle of the Green Giant. But everything had changed. For a start, it wasn't raining. The sun shone hot and high in the middle of a bright blue sky, and the grass was emerald-green and lush. The hill on which the Giant was carved seem higher than it had previously; he felt he could see for miles around over Komis, or was it just that the day was clear and there was no rain to fog his vision? He was alone; the other members of his party had vanished.

He was not surprised, however. This was not the same hill as the one on which he and the Militis had arrived. The change in the weather; the way he seemed higher than he had before; were factors that told him he was somehow in a different place – a dreamworld, perhaps, a world between worlds.

And therefore he was not really surprised, either, when he stood and turned around and saw Gravis standing before him. Or was it Gravis? Yet again, as in his dream in the woods and the vision at the Knife's Edge, he felt the disjointed uncertainty of not knowing whether he was looking at his own reflection or at his twin brother. They were dressed in the same mail armour, the same brown breeches and leather boots; their hair had the same ruffled curls, the same fringe flopping over their forehead; there was the same amount of stubble on their chins. As Gavius raised his left hand, the one with the tattoo, so the other raised his right. And yet when he spoke, the other did not, but waited his turn.

“Are you me, or are you Gravis?” said Gavius.

“It doesn't matter,” said his twin, and smiled.

Gavius looked around them, studying the landscape. There was nothing for miles, no sign of any movement. He looked back at Gravis. “Are you really here?”

“You can see me, can you not?”

“I mean is it really you? Or are you just an illusion?”

Gravis studied him. “What do you think?”

Gavius lapsed into silence. It was clear the figure – whoever it was – was not going to give him a straight answer. Instinct told him it was not really Gravis; his twin was somewhere in Laxony, trying to complete his own Quest. It made no sense for him to be here. The person before him was therefore some reflection either of himself brought on by the power of the Green Giant, or an image conjured by someone else playing with his mind.

He wondered what to say next. Was this all part of the activation process? He was reluctant to play the game if this was indeed someone playing with his mind, but perhaps he would have to, if it meant in the long run the Node could be opened.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked eventually, simply.

Gravis smiled, but it was not a nice smile, a brotherly smile. It was a nasty smile, and hatred hovered behind his eyes. “I want you to explain to me why you have sent me to my death.”

 

V

Chonrad hefted his sword in his right hand, wiping away the sweat from his eyes with his left. In spite of the continuing rain, it was a warm day, and his whole body felt superheated underneath the thick jerkin and the heavy mail. But he could see Procella had not yet burned off her anger, and he was determined to continue the fight until she was too exhausted to shout at him any longer.

It had been a fretful few weeks for those left behind at Heartwood. After the tension of the Darkwater attack and the frenzy of preparation for the Quests, everyone had felt decidedly flat when the last party left. It had taken Valens a considerable amount of encouragement, manoeuvring and sometimes downright bullying to get the Militis back up and running and improving the defences of the site.

Everyone dealt with their frustration in different ways. Valens threw himself into the defence preparation, organising the remaining Militis into teams and drawing up rotas to make sure work continued until daylight faded. He spent hours limping around the site from both inside and out, testing areas of the wall, measuring distances and drawing up plans for further improvements. He was perhaps grumpier and testier than usual, his impatience at being forced to stay in one place compounded by the increasing possibility of another Darkwater attack, but he worked methodically and logically, and slowly the defences began to strengthen and grow.

Dolosus found solace in manual work. Though his one arm meant he could not join the bands of those who lugged around heavy rocks all day, he was able to lift the heavy pails of mortar, and he spent much of his time helping to steady the rocks while they were put in place. Keeping busy stopped him from thinking, which in turn kept him calm, and it also left him exhausted by the end of the day, so he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, a fate which was not shared by everyone in Heartwood – there were many who had nightmares about the Darkwater attacks.

With many of the Militis dead or on Quests, Chonrad took over the Exerceo training, working the rest of the knights who were not involved in other tasks through strengthening and skill exercises to keep them battle-ready and fit to fight at any moment. Though he was not one of them, the Militis respected his obvious expertise and experience in the field, and he found it a rewarding task to keep them busy to stop them worrying about the coming invasion.

Nitesco spent all his waking hours – and most of his sleeping ones – in the Cavus, reading through the old texts hidden down there, desperately searching for a way to transform the Darkwater Quest party into water elementals. As days went by, he was hardly seen at all, and although Valens had visited him several times and told him nobody would think less of him for admitting he couldn't find an answer, the young Militis refused to come out, certain he would eventually find what he was looking for in the books, although his increasingly haggard face and the nervous tic at the corner of his eye spoke otherwise.

Procella was the one person who seemed unable to find a role to occupy her during this waiting time. For a while, she joined Dolosus in the manual work but found she was the opposite of him – engaging her muscles but not her body gave her too much time to think, which made her irritable and aggressive. Dolosus reached the end of his tether one day when she snapped at him for the umpteenth time for dropping something, and when he told her to go away, she did not argue with him; if nothing else, she was honest with herself and knew she needed to do something to keep her mind busy.

She tried to help Valens organise the planning of the defences but kept interfering with his ideas, and eventually in no uncertain terms he told her to find something else to occupy her time. Finally, she joined Chonrad in the training area, but a few hours before he had told her he didn't want her there either, as she was too aggressive and fought too hard, as if the battles were real and not just for the purpose of keeping fit.

She had responded angrily, shouting at him in front of the other Militis. He had responded by telling her she was being an idiot and she wasn't the only one who was frustrated, but by then she was past the point of listening and her frustration turned to violence, and she had drawn a sword on him.

Chonrad did not find her an easy opponent. She was a trained knight, Dux of the Exercitus, and it was certainly not a case of just fending her off – there were moments when he found himself fighting for his life. But her anger and frustration made her clumsy, and there were moments when he was sure he could have ended the fight.

But he let her continue to vent her anger, as he did not blame her for it. She was used to a life on the road; every day a different fort, constantly riding up and down the Wall, checking the garrisons, organising defences, managing thousands of knights. It was a busy, sometimes frantic life with constantly changing scenery, and to be bottled up like this was, he knew, perhaps the worst thing that could happen to her. Like a wild bird forced to live in a cage, she had been flying at the bars, and he had known it was only a matter of time until she crashed into them.

They had been fighting now for what felt like hour, solid hand-to-hand combat, and Chonrad was starting to get tired. He knew he wasn't as fit as Procella, but even so, he was sure she must be feeling the strain, too. Thought her attacks were not any less violent, she was taking longer between them, and her hair was flattened to her head with sweat.

He knew it was annoying her she couldn't take him, and he realised it probably didn't happen to her very often. And she knew her failure to win was due to her own frustration getting the better of her, rather than his superior fighting ability, and that only angered her more.

They had gathered quite a crowd now; the training Militis had all stayed to watch them fight and many more had come over from work on the defences to see what was going on. Chonrad knew they were putting on a fine display of swordmanship. He had been a knight long enough to put up a good fight, and although on her best day he suspected she could take him, today they were even, which was why the fight had taken so long.

But now he was getting tired and bored, and although she was obviously starting to feel the strain, her stubbornness was stopping her from calling an end to the fight until one of them could physically no longer hold up his or her weapon.

He locked swords with her and thrust her away, putting all his strength into the push so she stumbled back several yards. As she did so, he lowered his sword and raised his left hand. “Enough of this,” he said. “We should not be wasting our energies on fighting each other. We need to save our strength for the Darkwater attack, when it comes.”

She approached him slowly, her sword still held aloft, her eyes glittering. “Are you finally admitting you cannot best me, Lord Barle? Do you finally admit I am the better knight?”

The crowd murmured. Chonrad gave a little smile. “Trying to taunt me into making a mistake, Procella? You know that will not work. You are the one making mistakes today.”

“I am not,” she snarled, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her left hand.

He backed off a little as she advanced. “Come now, we both know you are the more seasoned warrior. That is not in dispute. But you are still obviously unable to separate your emotions from your fighting. Until you can do that, you will not be the wonderful knight you know in your heart you can be.”

“Stop being such a coward and fight me!” she yelled, taking a wild swing at him.

He sidestepped it easily but felt his ire rising. “We must stop this now, before one of us gets hurt.”

“Fight me!” she yelled, swinging at him again.

He stepped back again. He was tempted to put down his sword, but was afraid he might literally lose his head if he did that. She swung again, this time more neatly, coming forward and ending on a thrust, and he parried clumsily, so their swords rang throughout the courtyard, causing the onlookers to gasp and cheer. She pushed him back with brute force, hilt locked on hilt, and his boots slipped on the wet sand. Digging in his heels, he leaned into her, and she finally stumbled back, cursing. It was time to end this foolishness, he thought.

For the first time since they had begun fighting, he went on the offensive, fighting to disarm her, but now he really began to realise just what a skilled warrior she was. She parried his every move, matched his every swing, knocked away each thrust, her eyes gleaming, and he realised this was what she had wanted – a real fight. She wanted to test his strength. Was this more than just an explosion of temper, then? Was she testing his ability, finding his strengths and weaknesses, making sure he was up to scratch before they went on their Quest?

The sheer arrogance! For the first time in the fight Chonrad lost his temper. Now intending to knock her off her feet, he swung too hard and too far, and she came up under his guard. Her glancing blow knocked him off balance, and before he knew it she was pushing forward with her weight and he was falling backwards heavily onto the sand. The fall knocked all the breath out of him, and she took the opportunity to sit astride him, her sword tossed aside and her dagger drawn, blade across his neck. The crowd cheered.

“Now do you accept I am the better warrior?” she asked silkily.

His eyes met hers. For one, hot moment, he saw her true feelings there, like spotting a fish in the depths of a pool. He'd impressed her, and she desired him. His blood, already hot from battle, surged through him. He grinned. “Never!”

Thrusting up with his arms, he took her by surprise and knocked the dagger, sending it sprawling across the grass. The crowd whooped. Grasping her arms, he twisted her body and they rolled on the ground until she lay under him. He took her wrists and pinned them to the floor. He was heavier than her, and although she struggled beneath him, she couldn't move.

Her eyes blazed, but Chonrad could think of nothing but how much he wanted her, and he crushed his lips to hers, aware of nothing but the womanly feel of her body beneath him. For a very brief moment, she returned the kiss – long enough to convince him he'd been correct, and she did desire him.

And then she gave a muffled protest. He raised his head, only then becoming aware the crowd around them were cheering. He'd kissed a holy knight of the Arbor in plain view of everyone – and not just any holy knight, but the Dux, the leader of Heartwood's Exercitus. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't done it. He had forgotten they were being watched. She would not forgive him for proving he was stronger than her, especially in front of everyone.

He released her wrists and moved off her, and it was only then he realised Valens stood to one side, watching them with an unreadable expression on his face. “When you have quite finished,” he said quietly, “Nitesco has something he would like to tell you.”

They stood, perspiring and panting, freezing on the spot as they saw the look on the young Militis' face. He beamed at them, seemingly unaware of the frosty atmosphere. “I have done it,” he announced with glee. “I have found out how to get you into Darkwater!”