Now that they were outside, the surging sound of the forest was louder. The storm was over, and the wind had died away. All the same, in the red light, the trees continued to sway back and forth. Layka shut her eyes, and the voices of the trees grew clearer.
Something is wrong. The light has changed. The ground trembles.…
“There, we have left our cave,” Nesharu said.
Layka opened her eyes. Nesharu stood before the stranger, glaring at him as if he were not half again taller than she. “Now where should we go?”
“Look,” the man said and pointed at the edge of the forest.
Nesharu did nothing to conceal her scorn. “You know not what you speak, laru telaka,” she said, using the words that meant one who wears the wolf. “Do you not see how they bend and sway? It is not the wind that causes them to do so! Something has disturbed them. Were we to attempt to enter the forest now, our intrusion would not be borne. They would lash out and slay us all.”
“No, they won’t,” the man said. “Not if someone calls out to them and tells them not to. It is the nature of the trees to defend themselves against threat and peril, and they have sensed that a great wrong has entered into the world. Only they do not understand what it is—they do not know its source. They must be told what it is that threatens this land. They need to be taught who their enemy is—that it is the shadows they must fight now.”
Tennek spat on the ground. “You are a fool. We cannot talk to trees.”
“No, we can’t, not you or I,” the laru telaka said. “Nor can any man, as far as I know. But there are others who might be able to. Aren’t there?” Now he cast a look at Nesharu.
For a long moment her wrinkled face was thoughtful. “It is so,” she said at last. “If a woman is very strong in the wayru, it is possible for her to hear the voices of the trees, and even to speak to them in turn. So it has always been, since the first people.”
The others gasped as they stared at her.
“That is why you would watch us when we would hunt in the edges of the forest in winter,” Tennek said, wonder on his brown face. “You were asking the trees not to harm us.”
Nesharu gave her head a firm shake. “No, I was only watching them, for I could tell the difference between a branch moving in the wind, and when it was moving of itself.”
“Then you cannot communicate with the trees?” the tall man said.
“Ulanni, who taught me of the wayru, could speak with them. I saw her do it. And when I was younger, I sometimes thought I could understand a little of what they were saying as well. Only now …” Her thin shoulders moved in a sigh. “Now I am old, and I hear only the rustling of leaves.”
The man frowned. “Then our hope grows weak. But what of the woman who will be the next among you to practice the wayru? You must have chosen one to teach your ways before you pass.”
Nesharu said nothing, but her gaze flicked toward Layka.
Layka felt a pang in her stomach. She had always enjoyed the things they talked of when they walked together, the ways of stars and animals and plants, but she had never guessed that there had been more to it—that all the while Nesharu was teaching her of the wayru. Now, looking at the older woman’s expression, there could be no doubting it.
The tall man stood before Layka and laid large hands on her shoulders.
“What is your name?”
“Layka,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“Listen to the trees,” he said. “Listen hard, and tell me if you can hear their voices. Do you understand what the forest is saying?”
Scared, Layka could only gape at him.
“It is all right, child,” Nesharu said gently behind her. “Answer him.”
At last, Layka managed to nod. “They are frightened. And angry, too. They know something is happening, something bad. They want to fight against it, to protect themselves, but they don’t know what it is.”
“Then you will be the one to tell them,” the man said, smiling down at her with white teeth as he squeezed her shoulders. “You will teach the trees that it is the shadows that must be fought.”
Layka felt a warmth rush through her, and even had the crimson light of the moon not bathed her, still her cheeks would have showed red.
“Come,” the man said, taking her arm. “There is no time.”
The pale woman was already leading the way to the forest. The man walked after her, and the rest of the people followed. As they went, Layka fell in beside Nesharu, who leaned heavily on her staff, walking as quickly as her thin legs allowed.
“Nesharu, I don’t know what to do,” she whispered as loud as she dared. “I don’t know the wayru.”
“Yes, you do, Layka. I have not yet shown you all that I know, but I have taught you much. And even if I had taught you nothing, it does not matter. You can hear the voices of the trees. You can speak to them, just as the laru telaka says.”
Layka swallowed hard. “Have you always known I could hear them?”
“I wondered. I watched you when you were younger, in springtime as we left the cave, or in autumn when we returned. I saw the way you looked at the trees, and I thought that perhaps you could hear them.” Now she gave Layka a gap-toothed smile. “And I am not surprised. You are strong in the wayru—even stronger than Ulanni before me was. That is one thing I do know.”
Despite the stone of fear in her stomach, Layka felt an excitement as well. She would not have to string shells in a necklace to make herself pretty. If she became a wise woman, she could choose any man she wished—or choose none at all, like Nesharu. No one told a wise woman what to do.
Then her excitement ebbed, and fear crested again as someone let out a cry. She looked back over her shoulder, and it seemed to her that the night had grown thicker to the north. There was a sharp line upon the land marking the border where the light of the red moon and the stars ceased to fall. Beyond was only blackness.
She thought perhaps it was the shadow of a cloud, but when she looked up she saw that the sky was clear. Then she looked back down, and the line was closer than a moment ago. Even as she watched, it moved past the rocky slope of the cave, flowing over the land like a black tide.
“Run!” the tall stranger called out, but there was no need. The people were already fleeing toward the forest.
“They are coming too quickly,” the pale woman said, seeming to appear out of the night before Layka.
“I will do what I can to slow them,” the tall man replied. “Guard Layka. She must reach the forest.”
The woman nodded, her black eyes glinting in the red light. “Come with me,” she said, seizing Layka’s hand.
Layka gasped, for the woman’s hand was as hard as polished antler. But there was no resisting her pull, and Layka staggered after her, struggling to keep up.
After a moment, Layka managed to cast a look over her shoulder. The rest of the people were just behind her. Tennek and another young hunter were helping Nesharu, half-carrying the old woman between them as they ran. Behind them, the laru telaka had come to a halt. His back was to the people, and his hands were raised above him. He was shouting something in a strange language so sharp and harsh that it cut at Layka’s ears.
She was forced to look ahead as the pale woman jerked her arm painfully, pulling her up an embankment. When Layka managed to look over her shoulder again, wonder and dread filled her. The tall man’s hands blazed with red light, and a gap had opened in the ground before him. Quickly, the gap grew wider, its edges glittering red, creating an expanding emptiness like a coal burning a hole in the hide wall of a hut.
Only the rift in the ground wasn’t empty, Layka realized. Instead, she could see stars within it, as well as the purple crescent of an unfamiliar moon. It was like a black lake reflecting some sky other than the one above them. The dark flood pouring across the land reached the edge of the chasm, then broke apart. Layka thought she saw a few black droplets spill into the void, but most flowed to either side, then began to pass ar
ound it. The rift had slowed the shadows, but it had not stopped them.
Another painful jerk on Layka’s arm heaved her to the top of the embankment. Gray trunks stood in a line before her. They were nearly to the forest. Then, even as they crossed the last few paces, she saw a flutter of darkness to her left.
By the time Layka realized what was happening, the pale woman was already in motion. Like some strange white cat, she leaped past Layka and fell into a crouch. Three black tendrils slithered toward her across the ground like thick snakes.
One of the dark tendrils lifted itself up from the ground, rapidly expanding into a new shape. Multiple arms uncoiled from an amorphous body, making Layka think of an octopus she had once seen stranded in a tide pool. Only each of these arms ended in seven sharp claws. A maw split open to reveal a mouth full of jagged teeth. They gleamed in the light of the red moon as if they had already tasted blood.
The thing lunged, and Layka felt a scream rise in her throat. At the same time the pale woman sprang forward. Somehow she spun between the arms, avoiding them as they writhed and coiled, then slipped behind the dark form and circled a white arm around it, just below its widening gullet. Her own mouth opened in what seemed an expression of delight as she gave a brutal twist.
There was an awful cry like none ever made by animal or person—a keening that stabbed at Layka’s skull. Then the sound was cut short as the thing’s mouth snapped shut. It did not fall, but rather seemed to pour onto the ground, glistening there like a dark puddle.
“Go on!” spoke a deep voice.
Layka looked up to see the tall stranger beside her.
“Get to the trees. She will take care of the other two.”
She started to turn, to look again at the sar valak, but the man laid a hand against her back, propelling her before him. She ran the last few steps, and then she was at the ragged line of trees that marked the beginning of the great forest. Such was her speed that she was unable to stop in time, and she stumbled forward. Her arms went out before her, and her hands slapped against rough bark.
Layka had seen the forest before, had gathered fallen wood near its fringes, but she had never been this close, had never touched one of the trees. The roar of the waving branches surrounded her, buoying her as if she were adrift in a green sea. Only she wasn’t afraid. Instead, a fierce joy rushed through her.
Yes, she could hear their voices amid the roar, could understand their words. Only it was more than that. She could feel what they felt, just as she knew they could feel her. Branches bent down, surrounding her, and leaves brushed against her arms, her face. A strength coursed through her, as if she had sent her own roots deep into the ground. Layka tightened her arms around the trunk of the tree.
They knew something was wrong. The sunlight did not come when it should. Their leaves withered in the too-long days and froze in the cold of nights that did not end when they should have. The way of all things had been changed, they could feel it, but they did not know why.
Creatures came toward them upon two legs—the stronger, hairier ones who sometimes carried sharp stones which bit into bark and pith. Were they the ones who had brought about these changes? If so, the trees would rend them into pieces.…
“No, they are not the ones!” Layka cried out. She had almost become lost in the ocean of sound. Now she drew in a ragged breath, as if surfacing after long submersion. “Please, don’t hurt them!”
The roar of the trees dulled a bit, and their branches drooped.
“Tell them it is the shadows they must fear!”
Layka looked back. The tall man stood a short distance away, his blue eyes intent upon her. Behind him, the people were coming up the slope, along with the pale woman. The three shadows were nowhere to be seen, but the rest of them had flowed around the rift in the ground. The first edges of the dark flood lapped at the foot of the embankment.
“Tell them it is the gol-yagru and their masters, the Ashen, who have brought this change upon the world. It is they whom the trees must fight.”
Layka turned back, pressing her cheek against the rough bark. The people will not harm you. She thought rather than spoke the words. They flee the shadows. It is the shadows that have changed the world—the gol-yagru and the Ashen. They come from the red moon. You must let the people pass. And you must stop the shadows.
When she opened her eyes and looked up, she felt a cool wetness on her cheeks. She was weeping. Behind her, she heard the cries of her people. And the shadows came.
“Please!” Layka called out, raising her arms. “Please listen to me!”
And the forest did.
The trunks seemed to shift, opening a way like a mouth leading into a deep green cave. Crying out, the people fled within. Last of all came Nesharu, helped by Tennek and the other hunter. They stumbled into the gap in the trees.
Then a dark wave crashed up and over the top of the embankment. Wet arms uncoiled, and gullets widened. There was another being among them, tall and slender, the color of ashes. A mouth lined with countless pointed teeth grinned in its eyeless face. Layka screamed.
Suddenly the ground fell away from her. Confused, she looked down between her feet to see the shadows flow over the place where she had been standing a moment ago. Then she felt the green tendrils tighten around her waist—securely, but not so tight as to cause pain—as the branches bore her up to the tops of the trees.
From this vantage, all was clear. Dread gave way to fascination as Layka watched the first shadows reach the forest. Their glistening arms stretched out, probing for the people huddled behind the trunks.
The effort was futile. The reach of the trees was longer and swifter. Limbs whipped downward, seeming to grow as they did, striking the shadows and flinging them back. At the same time, roots burst upward from the soil, tangling around the dark forms.
More shadows came, and more, but the fury of the trees was ceaseless. Branches beat at the shadows until they began to fray like the edges of an old hide. Roots squeezed the shadows and pulled at them until they fell to pulp like rotted fruit. And all the while a great creaking and groaning and snapping filled the air.
Then another noise reached Layka’s ears—the sound of strange, harsh words. She looked down and saw the pale woman moving in a swift circle, her arms and legs lashing out so quickly that they were difficult to see, destroying anything that drew close. A small island formed in the roiling black sea. The magician stood in its center, his hands afire.
As he chanted, the starry rift in the ground expanded behind the shadows, driving them toward the forest. Those that did not go forward were swallowed by the rift. Those that did were crushed and torn by the limbs and roots of the trees. Layka saw one of the slender gray beings fall into the gap, its mouth open in a soundless cry as it plummeted toward the stars below.
Then it was over. The magician lowered his arms, and the rift in the ground slammed shut. At the same time, the roar of the trees dwindled to a murmur. Of the shadows, there was no sign except for dark stains that seeped into the soil. The branches that held Layka curved downward. They set her upon the ground, then bent back up.
Before her, the magician leaned upon the arm of the pale woman. His face was drawn in a grimace, and the woman looked at him with an expression of worry. She said something that Layka could not hear.
“It is of no concern,” he answered her. “I will soon have another better one to replace it.” Then he raised his head and looked at Layka.
Now the grimace on his handsome face was replaced by a broad smile, and Layka felt a different kind of excitement in her chest.
“We did it,” she said, rushing toward him. “The shadows are all gone.”
“These ones at least. More will come—many more. But now these trees know to fight them when they do. You did well, Layka. Very well.” He reached out and touched her cheek.
His hand was large, but its touch was surprisingly soft. After a moment, Layka ducked her head. “I must go to Nesharu,” she said. �
�I must see if she and the others are well.”
“No, there is one more thing we must do,” he said, his voice stern. “Naiani—my White Thorn—will see that your people are safe. But you must come with me. Quickly, now.”
He glanced at the pale woman. She met his gaze, then nodded and passed into the gap in the trees where the people had gone.
Layka wanted to follow after her, to see Nesharu and tell her what it was like to speak to the trees. Even now Layka could hear them, though their voices had settled into a whisper. They were pleased. Now they knew what it was they must do, what it was they must fight. No gol-yagru, no Ashen-thing, would ever be allowed to pass the edges of the forest. Layka could not help feeling pleasure herself as their satisfaction thrummed in her.
Then the magician took her hand, enfolding it within his own, and it was a different kind of pleasure that fluttered in her chest. How tall he was, and how brilliant his blue eyes.
“Come.” He led her away from the trees, and she did not resist.
It was easy to find their way in the red moonlight. They hurried up the stony slope toward the mouth of the cave. As they entered, Layka detected a faint rotten scent on the air, probably from some animal that had perished in there during the years the people were away. The crimson stone still glowed within the fire ring, filling the cave with ruddy light.
The man glanced out the mouth of the cave, then turned toward her. “It might be good to wait until we fight off more of the Ashen, to be certain you are capable of bearing it.” He shook his head. “But no, it has already taken me too much time to find you. I cannot wait any longer.”
Layka didn’t understand these words, but the idea that he had been searching for her gave her a thrill. As a wise woman, one strong in the wayru, it would be up to her to name the man who would be her mate.
“But I don’t know your name yet,” she said.
“I am called Myrrgon.”
“Myrrgon,” she repeated the strange name.
He lifted his hand, touching her cheek with a thumb. “You were very brave tonight, Layka,” he said, his voice low. “But you will have to be braver still. This was but the first of them. Even now, as their world draws close, they are constructing more gates. This night will be long—longer than any you have ever known. But this will not end in a night, or even a year. You must keep teaching the trees to fight the shadows, just as you did.”
The Master of Heathcrest Hall Page 3
