Furin was in with Tall Sera and Dassit stood with Vir, watching Ania speak to the guards around the taffistone. Occasionally Ania would point back at them, making her case. She turned to Vir but her branch commander was not ready to speak, he was fighting off a powerful hangover gifted to him by the Forestals’ strong alcohol. Behind him stood Ont, the huge man who had been burned in the Slowlands. He wore a coat of rags with a hood, and beneath the hood a mask of rough wood covered his burned face. Behind him stood the final three of her soldiers, Mestan, Bahin and Gruit; they had volunteered to come with her. Stood by them was the Forestal Tanhir, and Dassit was glad to see her. As Ania spoke Dassit walked over to Tanhir.
“I am surprised to see you here,” she said to the Forestal.
“The forest paths twine and come together,” said Tanhir. “Ours have done so, and so I will continue to walk with you.” Dassit nodded.
“And your quest to kill the priest of murder means you are unpopular here.” Tanhir laughed.
“Yes, there is that. It may be best if I am away while Tall Sera still feels slighted by my actions.”
“Will this not make it worse?” said Dassit. “Not that I wish to dissuade you from coming. Those bows are worth ten soldiers in the field.” Tanhir grinned at her.
“Either we will return having done a good thing, which he cannot gainsay, for to give a good death is honoured among us…”
“Or?” said Dassit; she found herself comfortable in the companionship of Tanhir.
“Or he will remain angry with me.”
“Do you not fear what punishment Tall Sera will bring upon you?” Amusement on Tanhir’s face.
“It will not be too terrible, he and I have been lovers for half my life, and he cannot give me the silent treatment any more than he already is. He will forgive in time.”
“Are you not lonely, without your…” Her voice tailed off.
“That is not our way, Dassit, I am never lonely. You, however…” There was no mistaking the intention in her words. Dassit felt herself blush. She was no stranger to taking lovers but the ways of the Forestals and their freedoms remained odd to her. Uncomfortable in her mind, to have no rules and no commitments.
“Come, Tanhir,” said Ania. “I will need you to help me open the stone.”
“I will help,” came a voice from behind them; they turned to find Venn stood there. “I want to help Ont.”
“You are meant to be learning, with the Lens.” Venn nodded but they did not move away.
“They have given me some time to think.” They looked around at the small group. “And I think best in familiar places.” Dassit looked the trion up and down, even though she did not really know them it was quite plain they lied.
“Still not ready to take up a spear though?” said Ania. Venn held up the staff in their hands.
“Cahan showed me how to use a staff,” they said. Ania bit her lip, shook her head and moved closer to Venn. Dassit was just near enough to hear her whisper.
“I will welcome your assistance in opening the stone, it will leave me more strength than I had expected should we meet resistance.” She leaned in closer. “But I cannot take you, Venn; I do not understand your importance, but I know Tall Sera will never forgive me if I put you in danger. I already tax his patience with this.” Venn’s face fell, then they bowed their head.
“Very well,” they said. “I will not cause you a problem.” Ania clapped them on the shoulder.
“Come then,” said Ania to the rest, “the guards will not stop this expedition as it is Tall Sera’s will.” She gave a lopsided smile and walked over to put her hands on the taffistone. Venn put their hands on her back and Tanhir placed her hands on Venn. A moment when it felt like everyone held their breath and then the stone opened, a path straight through to Ont’s grove. Dassit put her hand on Ont’s arm.
“Come,” she said. “Your grove awaits.”
They walked forward. Vir and their troops following her and Ont. One moment they were in the heat of Woodhome, the air moist and clinging. Then they were in the grove, the air clear, dry and icy. There was a fire. Around it a group of soldiers. One looked in their direction, hearing a noise. Dassit saw the woman’s face change in the firelight, confusion as to where these people had come from. One minute the grove was empty, the next warriors were there, and worse, behind them. Dassit found herself running, reactions ingrained into her. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to be gained by stealth, so she ran, bringing her spear up. The first soldier began to stand, opening their mouth to call out and an arrow cut them down. Then Dassit was among them. A thrust of her spear, dodging to avoid a counterthrust from another soldier. Vir ran them through. Behind him came her remaining three soldiers, spears working, she thrust again and another enemy soldier fell and then she was through them. Turning. All resistance gone. All that was left was five corpses and not one of hers lost.
“Quickly,” she said, and once more she was a leader. “Vir, get those corpses moved into the shadows and then everyone who isn’t a Forestal sit around that fire. Ania, keep your archers in the shadows and if anyone looks in and gets overly curious, kill them.” Ania and Tanhir took up station beneath the twisted tree that enclosed the taffistone. All that was left now was for Ont to find a place and welcome the embrace of death in the place he had come to love.
With the butcher stood Venn.
“No,” said Dassit, and she ran forward, as Ania turned and did the same. She heard the Forestal hiss out words.
“I told you not to come.”
“I had to.”
“Why? To see a man who never liked you die?”
“He has changed,” said Venn as Dassit approached. Ania turned, and if she had not heard the anger in the Forestal’s voice then she would have stepped back at the look on her face.
“I told you, Trion, that some things Tall Sera will not forgive, and putting you in danger is one of them. We will open the stone, you will return now.” Venn shook their head, and Dassit thought Ania about to grab them and bodily force them back to the stone. No doubt Ania would have if Dassit had not put herself between the Forestal and the trion.
“Why?” said Dassit. “What is so important that you risk Ania’s wrath?”
“Ont has not come here to die,” said Venn.
“Then why have we taken such a risk?” spat Ania.
“Because this is the nearest he has ever felt to Ranya, he has come to commune. To find answers.” For a moment Dassit thought the Forestal would hit the trion. She shook her head instead.
“The world is complicated enough without bringing gods into it. We go back,” she said. “If Ont had told me this I would never have…”
“That is why I did not,” said the butcher, “please, it hurts within that I have misled my closest friend.” He reached out, blindly grasping for the Forestal and though she did not move towards him, she did not move away. Eventually he found her. “I have prayed and begged Ranya to speak to me in Woodhome, and felt nothing of her. If I am to have some purpose, and I need purpose, then I will find it here.”
“And if not?” asked Ania, anger still there, simmering beneath her words.
“Then I will lay down here and let the wood have my body. And you will not have been lied to.” For a moment Ania did nothing. Then she stepped back.
“Very well,” she said. “How long will this take?”
“Not long,” said Ont.
“I am not sure,” said Venn. Ania took a deep breath then blew out her frustration.
“Dassit,” she said, “go look outside, see if more soldiers are about and make sure we are not going to be disturbed. Have your troops bring those corpses up here, we’ll take them back to Woodhome so there is no sign we were ever here. Tanhir, you are strong. I want you ready to open the stone.” Dassit nodded and left them. At the entrance to the grove she bent low, moved forward as slowly as she could until she could see out into Wyrdwood.
Before was what had once been New Harnwood. But was no longer.
Instead there were fires. Hundreds of them. She estimated two, maybe three trunks of troops were camped around the grove. She looked back and motioned for Vir to come up.
“Watch,” she said, “whistle if anyone comes.” He nodded but did not speak. She was not surprised, he had not had much to say recently and the hangover did not help. She made her way back to where Ania waited with Ont and Venn. The trion was on their knees, one hand on the floor of the forest. Behind them Ont stood, and they held the trion’s other hand. As she approached her steps slowed, the ground became spongy beneath her and she felt herself breathing, felt the forest move into her lungs and through her body, touching every part of her. A shiver passed through her. A voice tolled in her mind. Not her voice, not her own interiority that spoke as it saw and watched and questioned. This was something from outside. Something not of her.
North.
Then the feeling passed. She was just a woman standing in a wood. Venn stood, letting go of Ont’s hand as she approached.
“I am sorry,” said the trion, “but there is nothing—”
“North,” said Ont.
“Yes,” said Ania.
“What do you mean?” said Tanhir from her place by the stone.
“Did you not hear the voice?” said Dassit. “It said north, clear as clear.”
“I heard nothing,” said Venn.
“Nor me,” said Tanhir.
“I wish I had not,” said Ania.
“What of Vir?” said Dassit, and she turned to ask her branch commander and soldiers if they had also heard the voice.
But Vir and the three soldiers they had brought with them were gone.
“Ruins of Anjiin, no,” she said, running over to the entrance of the grove. “I trusted you, Vir.” The words were pain to her. So many years, so many fights. They had stood together when all seemed hopeless, he had never questioned, never doubted and in turn she had done the same. She had thought them closer than lovers, closer than siblings.
And he had taken the first chance he got to run, he had betrayed her.