Venn and Tanhir stood in the treehouse, the warmth of the air uncomfortable after the familiar cold of the north. The humidity made Venn feel as though they were drowning, or maybe it was the fear entwining itself around them, like the vines holding the building together. Luminescent mushrooms grew around the outskirts of the room, providing a gentle green light and suffusing the air with an earthy smell. Effigies of the Boughry, all long bone and branching horn, threw frightening shadows. Tall Sera stood at one end of the house before a set of seats, and with him was the leader of the Lens, Brione. They were whispering and occasionally looking across at Venn and Tanhir.
“We could be in trouble,” said Tanhir, which made Venn feel no more comfortable. Instead they watched as Tall Sera and Brione continued their hushed conversation, throwing occasional glances their way.
“We did the right thing,” said Venn.
“That will be little comfort when we can no longer remember as much as how to feed ourselves.” Venn’s breath caught in their throat. They had not really thought as far ahead as punishment, and how the Forestals administered it to their own. There were no whippings or giving over the condemned to the Rai as sacrifice, the way they did in the rest of Crua. The Forestals considered themselves different, gentler. Venn was not as sure; what they did here felt just as cruel, only in a different way. To take from someone’s mind, to wipe away who they had been to, as the Forestals put it, “allow straight growth away from what was twisted”. Venn had seen the punished being collected by relatives, or past lovers. Seen the faces of them when they were not recognised and thought it punished loved ones as much as the one who was to be punished.
Though for Venn it did not matter, they had no real friends here and definitely no lovers. Their only friends were gone. Udinny and Cahan dead, Ont fled deep into the forest, called by a voice Venn had not been able to hear.
The door to the house opened and a figure came in, slight, face aglow with white make-up and Venn felt a deep sense of guilt. They had been so busy feeling sorry for themselves that they had forgotten about Furin, who had at least as much to lose as they did. She had risked herself for Ont. And there was the rest of the villagers of Harn, who were scattered throughout Woodhome now, and always had a smile or a word for their trion.
Maybe everyone was better off without them, Venn thought.
“I think we are in trouble,” said Furin as she stood by the trion. She tried to smile but it was a fragile thing, it may have been because of the situation, but she had been friable and sad ever since she returned from the Slowlands and Cahan had not. Her sadness only made worse as her child, Issofur, became more and more of the forest and less and less of the people. Venn put a hand on her arm.
“It was worth it,” they said, and it was almost a surprise that they found they believed that. Venn had carried a sense of disappointment when Ont heard a voice and they did not, but that was foolish, selfish and childish. Venn had not travelled to the grove so they could commune with Ranya. They had done it for Ont, to give him at worst a good death and at best a reason to live, something he had found. Venn’s actions had given a man who had almost lost everything a reason to go on. Tall Sera glanced over, gave Brione a nudge and then the leaders of Woodhome approached.
“Do you know what you have done?” said Tall Sera, there was a bubbling rage beneath his voice. “For generations Woodhome has been a secret, hidden from all, so far above none could find us from the forest floor.” Behind him Brione nodded. “And even more of a secret has been the taffistone network. Now you throw it all away for a dying man.”
“He was burned in a fight for you,” said Tanhir.
“Quiet!” Tall Sera roared it. “Not a fight for me, a fight for these incomers who I let into our world.” He shook with the effort to suppress his anger. “I liked Cahan when I met him, thought him brave. Thought maybe we were wrong to look upon the people of Crua as different to us. But I was mistaken, they are raniri and we are spearmaw. It was always the way. The hunter and the hunted. My mistake has brought us misfortune, just as many said it would.” He turned away, walked four steps and Venn could feel how he did it to walk off his anger. He stopped, walked back. Fists opening and closing with every step. He looked to Tanhir, then to Furin. “I cannot undo what has been done. But there must be payment.” He turned to Venn. “You, Brione tells me you are powerful, she is not sure the forgetting can be done to you.” Then he turned to Tanhir. “Your punishment will be not to forget, but every Forestal will know what you have done. And if the Rai come to Woodhome they will know whose name to curse. You will be an outcast among us.” Venn heard a cough, a sob, Tanhir bowed her head. “Do not feel sorry for yourself, you brought those who ran here, these soldiers of Chyi who betrayed us.” Tanhir nodded and Venn could feel the depth of her misery radiating out from her. Tall Sera turned to Furin. “But you, someone must pay and you came here, into the place I call home to distract me so Ania could get past my guards at the stone. Without you this would not have happened.”
“It was all my plan,” said Furin. “Ont came to me, asked my help. I felt it my duty.” She raised her head and looked him straight in the eye. “I feel no guilt for loyalty, you would have done the same for one of yours. Do what you must.” He stared at her, for only a single beat of the heart, then nodded, as if what she said proved him right but also won his approval.
“Brione,” he said, “take everything from her.” The trion stepped forward, no words, only a hand, stretching out towards Furin’s head. Venn wanted this to stop, found they were waiting for someone to walk in, to end this.
Tanhir stood with her head bowed.
Tall Sera only watched.
Furin waited, resigned to her fate.
For a moment, Venn hoped Ania would appear, that she would burst in through the doors in her brash, aggressive way to end this, but she did not.
There was no one here to stop Brione.
Then someone did.
A hand reached out, grabbed Brione’s wrist.
A voice said, “No.” Brione turned, looked at Venn. Tall Sera looked at them and Venn was almost as surprised at what they were doing as the Forestal leader.
“Let go of Brione, Venn,” said Tall Sera.
“No,” said Venn.
“Please, Venn,” said Furin, “do not do this.” They saw then through the mask of caked make-up, how it covered her grief. “To forget would be a gift.”
“What of your son, Furin, what of Issofur?” She shook her head and, if anything, the sadness upon her only deepened.
“He is as much rootling as boy now, I love him still, but his true parent has become the forest.”
“No,” said Venn again, “Issofur is not gone, and Cahan would not want us to give up.”
“This is not your choice,” said Tall Sera. “Let go of our Trion.” Venn found they were shaking, afraid, but from somewhere within flowed a well of strength they had never truly acknowledged. For so long they had been moved around by others, put into place by them, told what they would be.
“It was my idea, not Furin’s.” Venn looked around. “We took Ont for Ranya, who tells us we all walk a path and must choose to follow it or not.”
“Forestals do not care about the soft gods of—”
“Listen to me!” said Venn. Tall Sera’s face hardened, as if he moved from Least to Harsh. “The ground quakes and opens all over Crua. A god rises who pushes away all others and brooks no disagreement. Ranya’s web, which is as real as you or I, is touched upon by some sickness no one understands but it is something so strange and dark that your own tree, that has harboured you and held your people for generations, lost an entire branch and all those who lived upon it. You walk the path even if you do not know it.” They were not sure where these words came from, but they knew them as real and heartfelt and right. “You look, but you do not see the signs around you. It is like you track raniri and ignore spearmaw gathering to hunt you.” Venn wondered, looking at Tall Sera and Brione, who was more shocked at the words that had come from their mouth. They let a cloak of silence fall around them before speaking again. “Take Furin’s memories if you must, but you will lose me.”
“We will take your mind if you try and leave,” said Brione and they felt something touch them, as if a mind wandered over Venn’s skin looking for a way in. With a thought Venn pushed them off. Brione let out a hiss of pain.
“Do you think you can?” The words coming out a sob, guilt flooding them for hurting another, even though they had not meant it. “You need me, Cahan may be gone but there is another Cowl-Rai out there. If I am as strong as you believe, and they are coming here then you need me.” Brione stared, but they did not gainsay Venn, they did not disagree because they could not. “I say it again, clear as I can. Hurt any of those that came with me, and you lose me.” Venn looked around. “I do not know why I am what I am. I have never wanted it. But it is the path, and I must walk it.”
“I rule here, Venn,” said Tall Sera, and they took a step forward, one hand on the knife at their hip. “And in Wyrdwood the word of the Boughry is the one that matters, not your soft god.” He slipped the knife from its sheath. “And I am not frightened to make hard decisions. Let go of Brione, let her do what she must.” Venn stared at Tall Sera and his words echoed in their mind. An understanding came upon them. They let go of Brione and stepped in front of Furin who was, in urgent whispers, telling them not to do this. Venn did not listen. Because they knew now that Brione and Tall Sera would not touch Furin, or Tanhir. Or Ania, if she ever came back.
“We went in search of Ranya,” said Venn, standing straighter than they ever had, more sure of themselves than they had ever been. “But we did not find them. I heard nothing from my god. But Ont heard something. Ania heard something. Dassit heard something.”
“What of it?” Tall Sera coming forward, knife in hand. “As I said, we care nothing for your gods.”
“They heard one word, Tall Sera,” said Venn. “They heard ‘North’. Clear as day. They were called North.” Tall Sera blinked. “Now tell me, leader of the Wyrdwood Forestals, what lives in the north? What scares you, and all your people so much that you bless each other by wishing they look away?” Tall Sera blinked. Brione stepped back. “I thought so,” said Venn, looking at the two Forestals before them. “The Boughry, the Woodhewn Nobles of Wyrdwood, called Ont, and they called Ania and they called Dassit. Furin and Tanhir, they did the bidding of the Boughry. Will you punish them for that?”
Silence, for a moment.
“The Boughry do not…” began Tall Sera.
“I have told you,” said Venn, “walk the path. Read the signs. Change is coming. The old gods call. I saw what happened to Cahan, something took him over. Something terrible, all that were at the Slowlands, saw it and they felt it. Take a side, Tall Sera, and do it now. I think the Boughry feel your people have stood in the shadows for too long. Ranya shows you the path. Walk it, or move out of the way of those that will.”
“I…” began Tall Sera, then the air shivered, and the hard and sturdy wood that they stood upon shook. A tremor passed through all of Crua, shaking the Cloudtree the tree and it was as if something terrible and powerful moved far beneath the land.
“Take a side,” said Venn again.