The Sah'niir

by Kim Wedlock

  "Am I on the bottom?"

  "No, sweetheart, you're at the top with me. Garon and Petra can take the bottom. They'll be quicker to the defence; Eyila and I can cast from a distance if we need to."

  Anthis studied him while he rubbed the sting from his arm. "You don't sound too convinced." But neither mage, he noticed, replied. "Rathen, what are we going to do?"

  "We haven't much choice."

  "We do." He stepped around in front of him, eyes burning with urgency. "Use your magic now."

  "Not on your life."

  "What about Aria's life?"

  Rathen stared down at him. "You didn't feel it. She is...powerful. They all are, but her most of all."

  "He's right," Eyila agreed. "I felt it, too. It's...terrifying..."

  "Are you all right?"

  She smiled at Anthis's sudden concern and nodded as his cheeks turned pink. She frowned in disappointment when he hurriedly looked away.

  "A huldra is the spirit of the wilds," Rathen continued to spare himself again. "She's intertwined with it, they're part of one another. But I didn't know that there was only one of them..."

  "Yes, one - so where's the problem?"

  "All the power to rule the forests and its creatures - it doesn't fall to many, it falls to one; all of that power and everything with it is consolidated into one individual. I can't stand against her...and I wouldn't want to go up against a vakah again any time soon, either..."

  Anthis shifted at the two mages' nervous expressions. "So we're stuck here, then?"

  "For the moment. We can't be the one to throw the first punch."

  "Punch?" Aria frowned. "But, Daddy, she wants our help."

  "She probably just wants to make sure we're going to keep doing exactly what we already are."

  "Yes," Rathen replied, "but on her terms."

  "What could they possibly be? If we remove the magic, which we're already doing, then we're both already winning anyway."

  But again, Rathen didn't respond, and this time Aria looked more than a little concerned. Anthis's tongue didn't seem willing to obey his command to press the subject.

  In short time, Garon and Petra returned, the latter moving her arm around somewhat excessively but clearly in perfect health, and the vakehn returned on cue with baskets in their arms. They set them upon the ground at the foot of the tree and began to hand out servings to their unwilling guests. They looked into the woven-leaf bowls warily.

  "What is it?" Petra asked as neutrally as she could while probing the unidentifiable mass.

  "Boar and rain tubers."

  "Boar?"

  The vakah flashed her a bright, amused grin. "None of us here are herbivores."

  The impenetrable darkness that had suffocated them night after night was softened at last by the yellow glow of fireflies. And they'd have been quite welcome on any other occasion, but tonight they felt sickeningly inappropriate, almost mocking the distinct and tangible danger they found themselves trapped beneath. Rathen was not the only one to wonder if they weren't a deliberate joke. But they made do - they had no choice - and after their suspiciously delicious meal, most of them retired to their nest-like beds while Garon examined the perimeter.

  Rathen stared up into the leaves, watching them shift lazily in the breeze to reveal the smallest pockets of stars while Aria slumbered beside him, lying across his chest. She hadn't begun to sprawl yet, so he was comfortable enough for fret and fatigue to lead him away into a world of irrational thought and self-pity that he had, until then, managed to hold at bay. And it all began with one, dangerous question: how did he ever get caught up in this?

  He grunted softly. That damned question. It never did him any good. The magic, the chasms, the Arana, and now a - the - huldra. Queen of the Woods. Root Mother.

  For a moment he pondered a brief flicker of wonder at just how far the hand of the Spirit of the Wilds reached. And just what within the scowles would bend to it. He let that thought drift away in favour of absently mulling over her title, and, inevitably, darker thoughts began to creep in.

  She undoubtedly wanted them to fix the Wildlands. But she would have her terms. She'd have left them alone to continue as they were otherwise. If every creature in every forest reported back to her, she'd know they weren't about to stop. And she'd surely also know that the threat they were fighting against went beyond renegade magic.

  So what did she want?

  The books he'd read to Aria back in their safe little hovel began once more to reverberate through his skull. The stories, the lore, the myth, and eventually the third-, fourth- and seventh-hand accounts. The source of the average man's knowledge on the matters of the romanticised 'wildlings', from harpies to lindworms (ditchlings were almost always excluded for being a nuisance and a menace rather than anything exotic). But while most accounts were, no doubt, exaggerated, embellished or outright fabrications, it took just one look into the huldra's eyes to see that she, at least, had been underestimated.

  The protective arm Aria had fallen asleep within tightened around her, and he looked down as she stirred. "Daddy," she said quietly, her eyes still closed.

  "Yes?"

  A smile spread across her sleepy face, and her dirty, bare foot kicked out to the side of the hollowed branch. "I want one."

  "I'll see what I can do," he chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. But as she began to drift back off to sleep, he heard the exasperated tone of the inquisitor further out in the woods. Carefully, he lifted himself up to peer over the edge of the bed.

  "You would be better off."

  "No, thank you, Your Majesty."

  While Garon continued his march back towards camp, keeping his eyes firmly on anything that was not her, the Root Mother fixed him with a boundless stare. "...It really hurt you to say that," she surmised - correctly, by the curl of his lip - and smiled in amusement. "You are a curious one, aren't you? Your convictions - they mean so very much to you. I'm not human, therefore I cannot be a queen. And your work--"

  "Don't go there."

  She cocked a black eyebrow. "Yes, your work." Her eyes drifted towards the tree as it fell into sight, and rested upon the second branch from the ground. "And your heart. But you deny it." Her eyes returned to him. "Why? For the sake of your pride?"

  "You know nothing about me," he replied flatly, and fired her a look of fury for her sudden, blisteringly delightful laugh. "Oh, no, I know plenty. Too much, perhaps. It makes me feel dirty."

  "Then turn around and leave me alone."

  His arm was suddenly seized by a steel grip, and he found himself staring into vehement eyes framed by lines of glee. "Be careful, Inquisitor Brack," she said dangerously, "you forget who you're speaking to. I might not be a queen in your eyes, but this is my domain, and you will respect me, and it, or you won't live long enough to regret it."

  Then, just as abrupt and seamless, her demeanour reverted to its previous ease. Garon freed his arm and spun at the sound of footsteps to find Rathen joining them outside of the tree's earshot, looking between them cautiously. "What's going on?"

  "Oh, my dear," she cooed affectionately while he already began to regret getting involved, "your friend here is a difficult one. I only offered him my help and he all but bit off my hand!"

  "Help?" He frowned carefully. "With what?"

  "Noth--"

  "Why, to heal him, of course!" She interrupted innocently while the inquisitor stiffened further in anger. "I fixed up young Petra's arm without breaking a sweat - it really would be no trouble at all..."

  "What? Why? What's wrong?" Rathen demanded, hurriedly searching the officer up and down for whatever injury he'd missed from their brawl with the roots, but he found not even a rip in his shirt. "Why does he--why do you need healing?"

  "Oh, well, aside from a pesky disorder of character, there's the matter of nerve damage."

  Rathen's eyes flashed wide. "Nerve damage?"

  "It's nothing," Garon replied gruffly, stepping past him to escape the interrog
ation and resume his survey in peace. "An old injury, I've learned to live with it."

  "Oh, pish," she said, moving quickly in front of him to block off his path, nailing him again with her strange, cruel stare. "It's not that old, is it? Two months? Three?"

  "...I've not noticed anything..."

  "No," she turned towards the troubled mage, "I don't suspect you would have. He's been hiding it from you, my dear, albeit not very well."

  "Why?"

  "Well because--oh," her hands quickly covered her plump lips, "no, I've said too much." She smiled sweetly. "You're sure you don't want my help?"

  "Positive."

  "Oh well. Good night, then." She left with a languid wave, and both of them felt themselves ease. Until Rathen's attention returned inquiringly to the officer. "Garon?"

  In true form, Garon walked away.

  "Oh, there you are." Rathen stopped and peered up into the highest boughs of a tree just out of sight of the oak. "Ah--oh...sorry if I've...interrupted..."

  "No, no, not at all." Eyila quickly threw an animal skin over her own as she rose from her perch and began descending the rough old trunk to join him.

  "O-oh," he stammered, averting his eyes. "You didn't have to come down..."

  "It's fine. You need something?"

  "I-I just wondered if you knew--" He frowned as she reached the bottom and turned at last to face him, the light of the moon glancing across her bronze skin and the unmistakable streaks of tears. He realised then that the music had dimmed in her voice. His tone softened. "Eyila, what's wrong?"

  She smiled and gathered the skin tighter, shaking her head and wiping her cheeks as surreptitiously as she could. "Nothing."

  "Eyila--"

  "No," she continued to smile, "really, I'm fine. Promise."

  He observed her closely, thoroughly unconvinced, and she held his gaze with puffy eyes. He didn't ask again. He stepped forwards and embraced her instead. Rathen had learned long ago that there was more than one meaning to the word 'promise'. She sought comfort, not questions, and to avoid the latter had resolved to turn to her own company. And, as a gentle, consoling breeze invaded the impenetrable forest, he guessed at another's. He confirmed in that moment the source of her despair.

  He held her tighter and kissed the top of her head, and she shuddered with a wheeze as another potent wave of bleeding anguish burst free.

  Anthis stormed back to the entangled oak with his teeth clamped tightly behind his lips, gave the trunk one swift, sharp kick and squeezed his ire into a dense and stifled growl.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing!" Startled, he looked up and found Aria peering down from the highest bed. He made his best effort to smile. "Nothing, I'm...." He sighed smiled apologetically. "I'm fine. Promise."

  She pursed her lips, then began climbing over the side of the branch.

  "Aria, no," he told her firmly, "stay up there, you'll hurt yourself." But she ignored him, and with the skill of a squirrel she clambered down the vines, turned around, pulled him by the hand down to her own level and embraced him.

  He smiled softly and returned the gesture.

  "I know what that 'promise' means." She looked up at him, and though she seemed about to say something, it didn't pass her lips. She squeezed him tighter instead.

  Chapter 33

  Slowly, the soft trill of birdsong eased away the euphony of sleep, and morning's gentle chill caressed the skin to goose-flesh within the comfort of silken sheets. Unhurried, untroubled, eyelids fluttered open to face deep emerald, and a peaceful sigh slipped through a smile.

  Then Rathen remembered where he was.

  He sat bolt upright, startling Aria who had sprawled across him in her sleep, snatched her to safety though she was far from tumbling out of the branch, and jumped again with a stifled cry when he found the Root Mother perched upon the end of the bough, watching him with a disconcerting level of attention. Her perfect lips curved into a smile. Unnerved, he did his best to return it. "Good morning..."

  "Yes," she beamed, "it is." She rose and leapt from the branch, the thin, flimsy gossamer she'd now clothed herself in flowing like water behind her, and landed lightly upon the ground some thirty feet below. Her voice carried back up in a song much too exuberant for first thing in the morning, and the birds' gentle warbling was replaced by a sudden, squawking chorus. "Rise and shiiiiiine!"

  Startled awake, the others glared at her over the edges of their nests.

  A gaggle of vakehn served a breakfast of some kind of wild egg and a selection of equally questionable fungi, all of which they'd eaten with hesitance through a desire to avoid insulting their host. While the vakehn waited upon them, Hlífrún watched them closely, further uneasing them after their unnaturally rich sleep. Then, once they were satiated and suitably disturbed, she declared, before they could excuse themselves and finally make an escape, that there was something they needed to see. Under that fearsome gaze, they had no choice but to cooperate.

  And so it was that they stumbled nervously through the forest behind her, speaking their concern through silent looks but for the grunts of surprise when they tripped. Unlike they, Hlífrún and her vakehn had no trouble navigating the tangle, and it transpired only once a particularly tricky knot of roots and briar unwound itself from Aria's path that the struggle was deliberate. Another glance of irritation breezed through the group.

  "You're showing us the magic," Rathen spoke up to distract himself. "That's what you need help with?"

  "Well it's hardly about a mouse problem." The huldra ducked beneath a branch, and a sudden, keening heartache invading her silvery voice. "The magic is ruining the forests - an understatement, of course, but you've seen it for yourselves - and my creatures are dying. It's blocking foraging routes, separating hunters from their prey, collapsing and exposing their homes and outright killing them. Most of the 'wildlings' as you call them have fled for safety, which, ironically, puts them now in the danger of humans." She bit off a sharp snarl. "All your kind know of them is what your books and stories tell you, and so they die at your hands instead because you're frightened of them. Because you think they're monsters that only belong in books and stories. And that every word you've read and heard regardless of source is true. Just as many of my creatures come to believe that all they need to know of humans can be learned in the two minutes it takes for one of you to loose an arrow."

  "We're not all--"

  "No," she replied firmly, returning her eyes to the front. "No. And neither are we. But how often does either side get the opportunity to realise that?

  "But this is besides the point. With every crack in the earth, my connection to the forests is being severed."

  "Your connection? What do you do for it?"

  The Spirit of the Wilds cast back a straight and unmistakable look. "Everything." Steps faltered while they calculated the depth of that answer. "The Wildlands is the last great stronghold, deep and thick enough to be protected from humans, to be able to thrive in safety. It is also the seat of my power. And it is at risk. If the Wildlands goes, so do I."

  "So you want us to keep on doing exactly what we are?"

  She answered Anthis with little more than a cryptic smile.

  A rumbling sound soon pervaded the warming forest air and the shrill, intermittent birdsong they'd become woefully accustomed to. But as it presented a new concern, the all too familiar touch of magic rushed over them and chased it away. Dread boiled in Rathen's stomach and he felt himself begin to fall to the assault in a heartbeat. But then, for no reason at all, it passed, and in its place came the enthusiastic embrace of relief.

  But he wasn't deceived for long.

  The magic hadn't gone anywhere. Its pull and guidance was still present, he could feel it luring him forwards, closer and closer towards the rumbling while peace remained a permanent undertone - but the aggression, the desperate compulsion to follow that pull, the inability to block it out of his mind...those had evaporated.

  Bemused, he
looked around to Eyila only to find that her eyes had already turned to glass. It was only as his gaze chanced to brush the vakah beside her that he noticed the feather-light spell that enshrouded him. His eyes became incredulous. "What in Zikhon's name are you doing?!"

  She smiled for a moment in amusement. "A barrier," she simply replied. "To stop the magic from affecting you."

  "Do you have any idea what...could have...?" He listened. He looked. But nothing had changed. The rolling sound had grown no louder, the ground had not cracked beneath them, and the magic that remained had not come unhinged. His gaze dropped back to her, bewildered while the others continued to search in a frenzy. "Your magic doesn't affect it..." He looked back towards the absent. "Can't you also help Eyila?"

  "Of course they can," Hlífrún replied with a laugh. "But so can you."

  "No, I can't, my magic--"

  "Did I say anything about your magic? Anyway, she's not your priority right now."

  "No, but--"

  She cast him a frightfully impatient look. "She is not your priority right now."

  Eyila continued to trudge along at Petra's side, leaning heavily upon the duelist's aid, but though Petra sent him an urging look, she knew just as he that if there was truly anything he could have done, he'd have done it by now. And if the vakehn didn't see fit to protect her as they had him, there was little any of them could do to change their minds. They were doubtlessly under orders, and the huldra's volatile mood swings rendered negotiation out of their favour.

  But while Rathen had control of his own senses, he could at least try to work out what she had meant.

  The rumbling was growing steadily louder, and the inappropriately cheerful music sought without success to distract them. But it was the sudden aroma on a shift in the breeze that struck the final blow to their guard. Burley, vanilla, perique tobacco and mulberry. An arcane scent they'd only ever experienced in one place and now sent a jolt of dizzy terror through all who recognised it.

  "What is this place we're going to? Uh--Y-your Majesty?" Petra amended, pushing herself past the shock, but again the huldra simply smiled and held aside a brush of foliage to the fully sunlit clearing on the other side.