by T. C. Edge
“Ah, Rhoth, your cryptic nature never seems to leave you. But, my old friend, I can see that you’re here on peaceful terms, and will honour the pact we have agreed upon many moons ago.” His eyes sway beyond us, to the group of fifty hunters at our backs. “I would feel a little more comfortable, however, if your men stay beyond the wall. You may enter with the children. Does that suit?”
Rhoth performs a graceful little bow, his necklace jingling with the motion and nearly getting caught in his long beard. Zander, meanwhile, merely scowls at being referred to as a child.
The gates begin to open, and Rhoth turns to his men and orders them to relax against a nearby cluster of trees. Kervan disappears from the summit, reappearing quickly at ground level to suggest he’s quite sprightly for an older man. He steps past the threshold of the creaking wooden gate and locks arms with Rhoth in a manner to suggest that, having got any tensions out of the way, the two are in fact on relatively good terms.
The Rooster’s eyes link once more with the gang of Fangs trundling a little further into the wood.
“Don’t worry men,” he calls out. “I’ll have some dried meat and water brought out to you.”
“That’s very kind, Kervan,” says Rhoth, who towers above the more nimble fellow.
“Ah, the hunting is good up here these days,” says Kervan. “And the water is sweet. We have plenty to go around.”
Passing orders to his sentry guards, he leads us through the gate, and my eyes take in a sprawling central courtyard, paved with wooden planks and giving access to the village ahead. Around us, almost every structure exists at least ten or so metres from the ground, linked by rope bridges and walkways and accessible by ladders and grooves cut into the hides of the monolithic trees.
The wall spreads further away on the flanks, disappearing into the wood and up the slopes. The village, however, spanning several acres of space, has been carefully selected on a flattened plateau, a step here on the mountainside before the earth suddenly juts up more speedily towards the towering summits still a long way off and up.
After all the distance we’ve travelled today, it’s staggering to see how much further up the highest peaks of the mountains are. A quick calculation, based on nothing more than the last few hours journey, makes me conclude that it would take another day or two at least to reach the tops at brisk walking pace.
Kervan, who appears quite pleased all of a sudden by the presence of guests, begins leading us onwards with swinging arms pointing out the various structures above.
“This here,” he says, almost sending an elbow into Zander’s already bruised right cheek, “is where we stock and cure our meats. And right next door, we have the smithy. His speciality is the bow and arrow, of course.”
“Of course,” mutters Zander, carefully dodging the incoming blows.
“If you look left,” he goes on, “you’ll see a cluster of huts, one on top of the other. Looks a little like your apartment buildings down in the city, doesn’t it?”
“Er, I guess,” I say, looking at the rudimentary structure that looks like it might just collapse at any minute.
Kervan’s finger tilts to the top, and straightens tight.
“That is my home,” he says proudly. “As the village elder, I have the loftiest abode in the entire community.”
I scan and can make out several other structures that appear to be higher. One above all is almost invisible at the tops of the trees, far enough for even my Hawk-eyes to struggle with the distance.
“So, what’s that one?” I ask.
Kervan follows my gaze and a spirited smile pulls up his wrinkled lips.
“That, young lady, is just where we’re headed.”
221
The tree at the centre of the village is larger than any I’ve yet laid eyes on. It may, in fact, be the biggest living thing for a thousand miles, standing over a hundred metres tall and several metres wide at its base.
Kervan leads us right to it as the villagers begin to turn and take notice. They, like their elder, are dressed in warm furs and pelts and look far more timid than the other tribes I’ve encountered. Rhoth looks quite out of place.
Some wander over on ground level. Others peer from their nests, or stop halfway across swinging walkways to examine these strange intruders. I see a mix of ages, from those just born to those about to die, and imagine that living here would be a rather pleasant thing. Just by the looks of their jovial, friendly faces, I can only conclude that the mountain air and water contains some elixir that the rest of us could do with.
“OK,” says the old leader, stepping to the base of the enormous tree. “I do hope you’re not afraid of heights, because we’re going right to the top. I’d advise you not to look down,” he concludes with a whimsical wink.
He turns away and takes a grip of a rope ladder, flimsy and fixed at intervals into the bark to make sure it doesn’t swing too wildly. The old man is a clear display of the particular strengths of his people, his wiry fingers gripping and pulling with such efficiency that he scales the first section with the haste of a scurrying squirrel.
Stopping about twenty metres up, he turns his eyes down.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on!”
Rhoth eyes the ascent with a hint of trepidation that you’d never expect to see from a man who conveys such strength.
“You OK there, big man?” asks Zander with a smirk, slapping him lightly, but mockingly, on the back.
“Of course I’m OK,” he bites. “It’s the…the altitude. It hurts my head.”
Zander laughs and begins the climb, scurrying north with a great deal of confidence. I stay back with Rhoth, my own feelings at the task ahead falling somewhere between those of the two men.
“You seemed OK in that tree earlier?” I say. “You leapt down from it like it was nothing.”
“It was nothing,” he says. “But that was much lower. The altitude here, girl, it’s….”
He doesn’t finish, and looks like he’s about to throw up. A few giggles from the gathering children force him to compose himself before his most recent meal is deposited to the floor.
Thinking it best not to follow such a large, nervous, man up a hundred metre ladder, I head for the rope and arch my eyes up. Zander has just reached the end of the first section, the first of five, and looks to be happily bouncing his way up the next. Kervan, meanwhile, is already onto the third and his voice is falling back down to our ears with another call to ‘hurry up’.
I take his advice and set any minor fears at bay. I’ve never had a fear of heights, but at the same time I’ve never been required to test the limit of that possible phobia either. The best I’ve done is probably the ladder at the factory I used to climb, which was more than half as short and more than twice as sturdy.
I gather my thoughts into a single desire to reach the top, and quickly clear the first section. Looking down, I see Rhoth giving himself a little pep talk as the kids continue to hover around him, giggling at the sight of such a big man too afraid to do what comes so naturally to them.
Adding to his embarrassment, I call down: “Oh, for goodness sake, are you a man or a mouse?!”
The goading seems enough to force the issue. Suddenly, I have a rather large man angrily stalking me up a rather large tree. My life is nothing if not full of surprises.
The higher I go, the more Kervan’s advice to ‘not look down’ resonates. I still do so occasionally, just to make sure I maintain my head start on Rhoth, but each time feel more than a little queasy. I’d rather not empty the contents of my stomach onto the great Fang’s head, so speed my pace and don’t look back again until I reach the top.
With a cold, whistling wind beginning to brew, I clamber onto a platform constructed among the highest branches and suck in the longest and freshest breath of my young life. Then, seeing the view that commands Zander and Kervan’s attention, my lungs empty once more.
Both my brother and Rhoth had it right. The view here puts t
he others to utter shame.
The world lies at my feet, stretching out for a hundred miles in every direction bar that blocked by the mountain. I stumble absent-mindedly towards the edge of the platform, blocked by a wooden rail, and begin a circuit around it. Everywhere I look I see a world that I hardly ever believed existed. Rolling hills, craggy outcrops, woods and rivers and the hint of larger, wider plains and mountains litter the distant horizon. I look out with only my regular vision to take in the view, and imagine that I could spend days up here zooming in and out, gathering as much detail as my Hawk-eyes can consume.
My trance is only broken as a wheezing form reaches the last rung of the swaying ladder, and Zander quickly rushes over to help him finish the job. Heaving with all his might, he pulls Rhoth up to safety, and the big man takes a moment on the floor, panting like a dog on a hot summer’s day.
“Don’t…say…anything,” he manages between breaths, before hauling himself onto his heavy feet and going as still as the rest of us.
His eyes take in the spectacle, and Kervan smiles at the sight. He allows him a moment to enjoy the view before uttering: “Unfortunately, the climb down is even more scary.”
I fear he might have picked the wrong moment, but in actual fact his timing is perfect. Rhoth is so entranced by the view that he merely nods and mumbles his agreement in some vacant manner, causing both Zander and I to burst into a short fit of laughter.
Eventually, after a good few minutes, it seems we’ve all had enough of a taste of the panorama to pass our full attention to Kervan.
“You say that we see much of the world from up here in our village, Rhoth,” he says. “If that is true, this is the perch from which we drink in the sights.”
He turns from the Fang and looks to my brother and me.
“Now, young saplings, what is it that you wish to see?”
I look at Zander and let him take the lead. His eyes swing westwards, beyond the woods that stretch for so many miles, and the plains beyond them that take up the reins, and all the way towards a blurred frame of mountains that seem to call an ending to the world.
He spends a few moments fixed in place, clearly zooming in with his eyes and trying to answer the question for himself. I do the same, searching for settlements far away, for movement, for any sightings of this gathering force we’ve been warned of.
When my brother speaks, he does so with his own query.
“Do you have Hawks among your tribe?”
Kervan nods silently.
“And I can see that you have the same gifts, both of you,” he says, leaning in for a closer look at our eyes. “This view is very special, but for our Hawks, it is a lookout point for all things that lie beyond.”
“Our Hawks?” says my brother, now peering at Kervan as he did us. “You’re part of that number, aren’t you?”
“Ah, a Hawk can always spot another Hawk,” he chuckles. “I have spent more time up here than I care to admit or remember. It is home to me, my great nest here at the top of the world. I have seen many things…”
“An army?” I ask. I could sense some sort of speech coming on. I’m not sure anyone has time for a monologue right now.
“An army?” he asks. “Yes, yes an army. I’ve seen your army enter the city not so long ago. I’ve seen an army leave to the west as well, and one spread to the larger buildings in the east. I have watched your war play out from up here and…”
“And anything outside the city?” I ask, cutting him off again through what I consider necessity. “Look, we’ve been told that a threat is coming, OK. That’s why we’re here. The source, well, isn’t exactly trustworthy, so if you can confirm or deny it, then great.”
“Have you seen an army gathering in the west in particular?” says Zander, taking up the mantle with a similar urgency. He turns his eyes to the great plains beyond the woods and the mountains beyond them. “We believe that the loss of the High Tower will draw people in to destroy us. And you may not be exempt from that, Kervan, even all the way up here…”
He listens, slightly taken aback by the forceful intrusion. It seems his desire to hold the stage has fallen away, the dramatic flow of his voice dulled as his sharp eyes turn stark.
“I’ve seen more movement across the distant lands, that is for certain. And to the west? Yes.” He draws in a breath. “I have to say, I had hoped I was wrong, but perhaps my own suspicions are correct.”
“What suspicions?”
“That, as you say, new settlers are set to swarm these lands. I had always considered that your city was a shield for us here, that our lands would be kept mostly safe. But maybe you’re right. Maybe your war is nothing more than the bleating call of an injured deer, alerting all the wolves to its plight.”
“A fine comparison,” says Rhoth, finally tearing his eyes from the astonishing vista and re-joining the conversation. “It looks like you have the confirmation you were seeking,” he says to my brother and me. “I can see that it isn’t what you wanted to hear, Brie. But…maybe not quite for your twin.”
I look to Zander who screws up his nose and huffs.
“Pfft, so you’re a Mind-Manipulator all of a sudden, are you Rhoth?” he says indignantly. “You’re mad if you think I want another damn army marching our way.”
“I don’t need special tricks to read your mind, boy. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you had no war to fight.”
He’s hit the nail on the head there, I think to myself.
Zander continues to make a series of noises to refute Rhoth’s claim. He should really just admit it, though, and go from there. There’s no shame in it. Not really.
Kervan speaks again, his whimsy now lost and a growing shadow overtaking his once bright face.
“Movement has been in the west most of all,” he says, drawing our eyes back to him. “I’ve seen some camps set up towards the far mountains, but they’re usually visible only at night when their fires begin to shine. Even with my eyes, I cannot see far enough to give details of numbers…”
“Show me where,” says Zander, stepping next to the old Rooster.
Kervan lifts his left index finger in front of my brother’s face, aiming his gaze at a specific point on the blurred mountain range over a hundred miles away.
“There,” he says. “Just at the foot of the tallest peak, within the cluster of trees. There are shapes of temporary structures. My eyes have been fading over the years. Perhaps yours are better…”
My brother goes silent for a few moments as he searches. I try to do the same, zooming in as far as I can, but can only just make out the barest of details from this distance. Shapes, as Kervan said, and colour to give some life to the features so far from where we stand. But, the longer I stare, the more I grow sure that I see movement. Tiny dark dots, spreading through the trees and across the base of the hills, grouping to create a barely visible shimmer on the distant horizon.
I draw back, and turn again to Zander. His sharp eyes are more practiced than mine. The look on his face is one of concern.
He withdraws, nodding.
“There are people there,” he says. “Many thousands by the looks of it. Have you seen movement elsewhere, Kervan? To the south or the east?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. I have often spotted travelling bands over the years in almost all directions, usually small and numbering a hundred at most. But thousands, you say?”
Zander nods.
“That is a worry indeed. I hadn’t been able to determine numbers, but just thought that, whoever they were, they were looking to settle at the base of the western mountains in the woods and the wide plains. Perhaps that is still their intention?”
“I’m afraid that’s unlikely, Kervan. The light is mostly lacking, but what there is shows glints of armour and weaponry. When did you first see them start to gather there?”
“Several days ago, they began to work through the mountain passes. At about he same time as your army entered the city.”
“Then it’s as we feared. They’re waiting, watching, and preparing to attack. There can be little doubt of that now…”
As the two men continue their discussion, I find myself looking at Rhoth. His eyes hang low, gazing with a squint down to the east, just beyond the northern side of the city.
“Something up?” I ask.
He lifts a craggy finger and points.
“Did anyone notice that before?” he asks.
“What?”
I move over to him, glancing through the sparse foliage that grows this high up, and see a flicker of orange far below, several miles north of Haven.
“What is that?” he asks. “It looks like…fire.”
With a sudden urgency, I plant my hands on the railing and focus on the orange glow. My eyes spread forward, passing down the slopes of the mountains, over the woods, across the plains and rivers and empty fields, before the orange glow begins to fashion itself into a clearer picture.
A picture that sets my fingers gripping tight at the wood.
Rhoth’s right. It is fire. And it’s currently consuming the church.
“Zander!” I shout.
My brother turns and hops quickly over to me. I grab his chin and fix his eyes on the direction of mine.
“Holy sh…” he whispers.
“What is it? What’s going on?” booms Rhoth’s voice.
“It’s the church – our church,” says Zander. “It’s on fire!”
“But how can that be?” asks the Fang.
My jaw tightens with the one culprit who springs to mind.
“Cromwell. His Stalkers…the ones who are meant to be escorting our people. It was them! It had to be them! He’s tricked us…”
As my words tumble, they’re suddenly cut off by a piercing but distant whistle. It sounds in the high mountain air, cutting a clear path to our ears, before being quicken taken up by another, and another, each one growing nearer and louder as Kervan’s eyes begin to widen.
“The alarm!” he says. “We have to get back down. Right now!”
