Devastation

by Jane Dougherty

  “Tell me, Mamma. What’s the matter?”

  “Five years,” Garance said in a tired voice. “Just five years I had to let go.”

  Kat had stolen quietly to where Garance lay, feeling pale and faded, as if she had lost a part of herself.

  “Let me see if I can do anything. I’m a bit of a novice, but I might be able to help.”

  Kat’s voice tailed off as she took Garance’s hands in hers. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Garance waited patiently for the girl to do whatever she thought she was doing, feeling like a dying animal. When Kat finally opened her eyes, she sighed and shook her head.

  “There isn’t anything I can do. You’re made of stern stuff, full of grief, like all of us who lived through the Abomination, but nothing worse. You’ll get over it, like we all will, in time.”

  “Thanks for trying, anyway.” Garance managed another weak smile. “I daren’t even ask where I am or how I got here. Not till I feel a bit stronger.”

  Tully grinned. “You’d never believe the half of it anyway.”

  “Tully?” Garance stared, as if noticing him for the first time. “Is it really you? You’ve grown so tall, so…different.” She glanced at Carla and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “Both of you. I barely recognized my own daughter. I know it’s a while since I saw either of you…” Her voice faded and she frowned, trying to calculate. “Ages anyway. But to have changed so much!” The frown deepened, and her eyes filled with quick tears again as she placed a hand on Tully’s cheek. “A star—and such a beautiful voice.” Garance wiped her eyes, smiled at Tully’s confusion and looked intently at Carla again.

  “You’ve both changed, but you don’t look much older than…the last time I saw you. Not like young people in their twenties anyway. Your faces are mature, serious and so strong! But not adult faces.” Garance’s voice faded again as she lost herself in her musings.

  Carla tapped her hand, a worried frown forming. “Mamma, you’re dreaming.”

  “Sorry.” Garance smiled. “So, where have you been all this time?”

  “Like Tully said, Mamma, it’s a hell of a story.”

  “Literally,” Tully added.

  Carla knew her face didn’t show the joy and triumph she felt deep down, only the immediate worry that preoccupied her. She couldn’t explain why, not yet. There’d be time for that later. She needed to sort out her ideas, get used to the hunch that was gradually turning into a fully-fledged theory. Up among the stars, everything had seemed so clear. The worries and prejudices of the world below were peeled back, exposing the truth of things. She had heard Tully’s song, seen the power her mother had wielded to save him when he fell and suddenly the story was falling into place. Jeff might know if she was right. If she was wrong, they were in big trouble.

  Carla dragged her thoughts back to earth and tried to smile at her mother as if she was just bringing a few people home from school.

  “Before we do anything else, Mamma, let me introduce you to our friends. Kat is—was—a biochemistry student. Jeff is her sort of adopted little brother from the supermarket. We’ll explain about that. And Tancred is a traveler from Lutecia—our guide, protector and pathfinder on the expedition. We’ll explain about that too.”

  “And this is Dusty,” Jeff piped up, dragging the hound forward. “She used to be a drac, but I think that’s all in the past now.”

  The bemused expression on Garance’s face increased, but she asked no questions.

  “Well, playing at The Last of the Mohicans seems to suit you all. Must be all this lovely fresh air.”

  Carla laughed. “You’re usually the one who spends most of her time outdoors.”

  Garance sighed. “Not lately I haven’t. But as you said, it’s a long story.”

  Tancred cleared his throat politely. “Excuse me, but if you feel able to walk, my lady”—he held out a hand to Garance, who took it as if it was the most natural gesture in the world—“we ought to be moving. Carla explained to us while you were sleeping that the evil seemed to know where you were. And it was drawn to Tully’s song. You only just escaped in time.”

  “Yes, I escaped,” Garance whispered. “Nobody else did.”

  Carla put her arms around her mother’s shoulders as her eyes filled with tears again. She guessed that her mother had left friends behind in the Dzong, just like she had done in the supermarket.

  Tancred went on. “The evil will almost certainly follow your trail. We must go quickly now to the World Tree and wait for Yvain and the others, if they are not already there. We have no way of knowing.”

  “This World Tree,” Garance asked, wiping her eyes, “it isn’t an ash, by any chance?”

  “But of course!” Tancred smiled broadly. “I would expect you, of all people, to know her mythology.”

  “Explain later,” Garance said. “I think I need to sit down with a cup of tea and a packet of digestive biscuits to hear it.”

  * * * *

  “And I’m telling you there’s kids out there, and they’re calling for help. Just help me fix on the place, and we’ll open a tunnel and get them out.” Jack was ranting again.

  “It isn’t as simple as that, Jack.” Yvain’s features were drawn, the wrinkles around his eyes deeper. “We need a dreamcatcher for this. A traveler can only travel to a place he knows. But I don’t know why I’m saying all this, you know it already.”

  Jack kicked at the storm pane and hurt his foot. “Right. That’s one thing decided then. We’re going to stop playing Robinson Crusoe and get off to this bloody tree. The others might be already there, kicking their heels and swearing, with Garance raring to have a go at Wormwood.”

  Jim grinned and scratched his head through the curls that badly needed trimming.

  “I thought we were off shrimping! Eirian’s found me a beautiful pair of rubber boots in the lumber room below, and there’s a whole heap of fishing tackle. There’s even a little dinghy, though I’ve never been sea fishing—”

  “And you never will if I have anything to do with it, you little gobshite! Is that all you can think about? When the world’s rattling down around your ears— Going bloody fishing?”

  “He’s only joking,” Eirian said in a conciliatory tone. “Really, Jack, do you only ever laugh at your own jokes?”

  “I laugh at funny jokes, young woman. And your white-headed boy here is about as funny as a mass grave, or an outbreak of swine fever, or Mr. Mullen from the grocer’s when I was a kid. That man had a face on him would curdle milk.”

  Yvain slapped him on the back. “Fine. We get the message. You win. We’ll send one more message to Tancred then we’ll be off. Provisions all packed, Jim?”

  “Aye, sir!” Jim gave a sloppy salute.

  “Then let’s get outside, pick up the bags—”

  “And Scotty, get ready to beam us aboard!” Jack, overjoyed to be off, roared with laughter.

  “Just one last question, Yvain.” Jim looked suddenly serious. “What happens if we get to the Tree and find it’s surrounded by the black stuff and those dead things?”

  Yvain took a deep breath and placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Just in case, I’ll say it now. It’s been a privilege to know you, Jim.”

  Jim looked at Jack. “He’s not joking, is he?”

  Jack shook his head. “No, I don’t think he is.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Carnage

  Kat was riding in front with Tancred. Carla smiled to herself, recognizing the signs. Kat obviously didn’t want to waste a single moment of his company.

  “We noticed quite a while back that the trees are dying,” she was saying. “It should be early summer but all the leaves are withered and yellow, and the grass has gone sort of mushy and brown in some places. But there’s something more. The air is changing too. Can’t you feel it?”

  “It’s certainly colder, and the clouds are denser and lower, almost on a level with the treetops,” Tancred replied.

  Kat shook her h
ead and her brow furrowed pensively. “More than that. There’s a sort of smell, a taste of rotting, putrefaction, as if something massive died.”

  Garance, riding one of the packhorses, drew closer. “I imagine medieval battlefields smelled similarly, when piles of uninteresting foot soldiers were left to rot when the army went home.”

  Carla curled up her nose in disgust. Then she frowned.

  “Listen! I can hear something, and it isn’t pleasant. A medieval battlefield is what springs to mind—or maybe the Barbarian invasions.”

  She glanced at Tully, who sniffed and made the same grimace.

  “Tancred, are you sure there isn’t another route to this Tree of yours?” he asked.

  “This is the Briga Mór. It’s bare and desolate. Once we leave the shelter of the forest, such as it is, there will be no cover at all. Whichever route we take will leave us exposed to what has invaded the wilderness.”

  Kat placed a nervous hand on his arm. “But we are going to travel to the Tree, aren’t we? I mean, we’re not going to try walking through a whole army of…dead things?”

  Tancred smiled in a way that was obviously meant to be reassuring. “First we have to reach the ridge where the open heathland begins. From there, we can see how the land lies around the World Tree and Mount Ardar. Or at least it was possible the last time I was here.” His voice became darker and troubled. “That was before the eaters of souls arrived and their shadows from Hell. From now on, I think it is more prudent to travel in silence. The forest has a strange atmosphere. Something is already wrong here.”

  The small band rode closer together, their horses’ hooves sounding loud and dull in the heavy silence. No birds sang, no leaves rustled, but in the oppressive silence, the air was alive with a sort of static—static that sounded like voices whispering and snarling. Dusty loped ahead, her ears raised. Occasionally she shook her head violently. Tancred watched the hound intently and wondered what kind of things the voices were saying to a dog. Suddenly, she gave a low growl and stopped dead, her hackles raised. The others reined in their horses and peered ahead in the uncertain light, straining their eyes to catch the slightest movement. Nothing stirred, and Dusty crept into the bushes at the side of the path, ears flattened now and belly close to the ground.

  Jeff opened his mouth to call her back, but Tancred stilled him with a sharp look. The hound stopped before a group of bushy saplings that appeared to have been broken and trampled. The growling died in the dog’s throat, and she gave a faint whimper before cringing slowly backward. Her head hung low, and she gave Jeff a look that was almost an apology, but also a pleading not to be sent back in there. The smell of decay was so strong now that Jeff held his nose and the others wrapped scarves tightly over noses and mouths.

  Tancred slid from his horse and reached down his stave. He parted the bushes with trepidation and froze with horror. A whole pack of drax—maybe twenty individuals—lay in a trampled clearing dark with blood. Most had been split from end to end and their entrails thrown about. Some had limbs torn away and half-eaten. All had their jaws wrenched apart and their tongues ripped out.

  Tancred was about to turn his face away when he saw that the carnage spread beyond the clearing to a second, larger one. Through the straggly trees he could see an outstretched arm, bloody clothing, a child’s foot. He put a hand over his mouth and staggered backward, unable to stop the bile rising in his throat. Kat made to get down from the white mare, but the animal refused to let her, stamping and stepping backward. Tancred shook his head violently and pushed the mare forward along the forest path, behind Dusty who was already bounding ahead and away from the place of horror. Tully held Tancred’s horse while he mounted, then without a word, they set off after the others.

  The trees thinned, the horses grouped together, no one spoke, no birds sang. Carla rode close to Tully, their thighs almost touching. Silence hung over what was left of the forest. No leaves rustled or twigs cracked underfoot as they passed. Hooves pressed the rotting vegetation deeper into the layers of decomposition with barely a whisper. Silence hung heavy and oppressive, except for the voices. They grew in strength, snarling and spitting, until Carla realized none of her own private thoughts were entering her consciousness. Though the language was one she didn’t understand, she understood the meaning—the menace in the chewed and bitten words, the pain and torment they promised—and she shivered.

  She reached out to Tully and took his hand. She looked into his eyes and saw that there was no need for her to speak, Tully knew too. Wormwood had followed their trail.

  * * * *

  The darkness was total. The air was so thick they gagged and wheezed. Jim thought he would choke, trying to squeeze oxygen out of the strange element.

  “Just relax,” Yvain ordered. “And keep calm. Breathe normally. You’ll get used to it in an instant.”

  When their labored breathing had grown more regular, Jack exploded. “Jesus! Where in the name of feck are we?”

  “At the World Tree, of course,” Yvain said in his most reasonable voice.

  “At it? We’re inside the bloody thing!”

  “You’re kidding!” Jim found the situation anything but funny.

  “Yvain, I hope you know how to get us out of here,” Jack said. “I’m not sure what breathing liquid wood is doing to my system.”

  “Your system? Think you’re the only one doesn’t like it in here?” Jim’s old terrors had filled his head and his voice had a slight tremor. Without being aware of what he was doing, his fingers reached out and curled tightly around Eirian’s hand.

  “Is everything all right?” she whispered.

  In reply, Jim tightened his grip. Through his fingers, he sent out images of claustrophobia, a fear of the dark, a fear of the things that lived in the dark. Memories of Matt’s death flooded his thoughts, so violent, so painful that Eirian looked at him with sympathy.

  “This is not shadow, Jim. This is safety,” she said. “The World Tree is a refuge. Nothing can harm it, not even Wormwood. It was here before he was created. Its roots traverse all the worlds, joining all things. Nothing can touch us here.”

  Jim swallowed hard to clear his throat. His voice, when he found it, was hoarse but firm. “I suppose if it’s a toss-up between living like a squirrel or being sucked to death by a vampire oil slick, there’s no choice really.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Chuck us a bag of nuts, will you?”

  Eirian laughed silently and gave Jim’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t worry. Yvain knows what he’s doing.”

  “You’d better tell Jack,” Jim said. “Listen to him.”

  “Why can’t we make a tunnel in it?” Yvain’s voice was horrified. “Make a tunnel through the World Tree?”

  “Well?” Jack wanted to know why not. Jim decided he was being even more pig-headed than usual.

  Yvain sighed heavily. “The World Tree does not exist like a real tree or a mountain exists. It is out of time and space. It exists everywhere, at all times. You can’t meddle with something like that.”

  “So how do we get out?” Jack sounded on the verge of homicide.

  “There is a way into the World Tree, so there is a way out. It is just a question of knowing where to look,” Yvain replied evenly.

  “And you do.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Yvain’s voice contained just a hint of exasperation.

  “So what are you saying? You do or you don’t?” Jack was roaring now.

  “Jack, if you’ll just shut your big mouth for one minute,” Jim said. “I think I can feel something.”

  “If it’s what I’m thinking, how will that help us?” Jack sniped.

  “If I could see you, I’d punch you in the throat, you fucking arsehole!”

  “Boys, boys,” Eirian called for calm. “The paths through the World Tree are complicated, it requires a special gift to follow them. Perhaps Jim has it.”

  “In me hole he does,” Jack muttered.

  Jim bit his tongue and
ignored the remark. “There’s a sort of…not exactly emptiness, but a place where the air is lighter. It feels as though it would be easy to walk through it.”

  “Just keep going,” Eirian said. “We’re right behind you.”

  Jim squeezed her hand and all the tenderness he sent out to her flowed back through him, multiplied, golden and glowing. He felt so strong, so unafraid that he could have punched a hole through the tree, like Jack suggested, just to be outside where he could see Eirian’s face.

  They walked a few more paces, Jim keeping up a commentary mainly for his own benefit. With Eirian hanging onto his hand, he felt his confidence growing with every step. Suddenly he stopped his mumblings and called out excitedly.

  “Hey, I can! I can see it, the path! Eirian, keep hold of my hand. We’d best make a chain so we don’t get lost, I have the impression that the path branches hundreds of times, we have to stick to the right one.”

  “And how would you know which is the right one? Been here before, have you?” Jack said with a snarl.

  Jim suddenly realized why Jack was being so insufferable. He squeezed Eirian’s hand. She understood too and reached for Jack’s hand. Jim felt the fear that oozed from Jack’s pores—fear of the all-powerful darkness, fear of the utter darkness that no light pierces, the darkness that presses down on the dead, on his dead Molly, Molly alone in the dark, taken from him and pressed down in the darkness. He felt Jack’s pain through Eirian and sensed how she was helping to lighten the darkness for him. Through her fingers, Jim perceived the sensations she was sending to Jack, how she let him feel the smooth grain of the ash, the life force that pulsed through it with the energy of a thousand forests. Jim too basked in the warmth of the sun stored up in the thickness of the ages-old bark and the green shoots that would be leaves on a branch in the free sky.

  Jack gave a shiver, and through Eirian, Jim felt the tension leave his grip, his heart beating in time with the life pulse of the World Tree.