The Heartwood Crown

by Matt Mikalatos

  “They are quite strong.”

  Then it came to him again. Another way to change the story. “Before you go, do you think you could blow me off this log and into the forest?” Remi’s tail twitched. “Not deeper into the carnivorous part,” Jason added quickly.

  Remi flew into the air and circled him a few times. “Let go of the log,” she said, “and stand up.”

  Jason got carefully to his feet, balancing on the edge of the log. It creaked under his weight. Remi started bringing the wind, and he crouched down. The log was cracking. The wind getting stronger. He could feel the skin on his face pressing back in the wind.

  Then the log broke, and he was screaming, falling toward the flowers below, and then the wind pushed him backward, and he was flying, soaring, tumbling above the forest. The tallest trees were far below him. He glanced back and could see Remi, no longer flapping her wings but gliding north. The wind lessened. He had not thought about this part. He was falling, still screaming. He spread his arms wide, hoping to catch a branch. A thick branch broke his fall, and he crashed through that one and into the next and then the next. He had been whipped in the face, legs, and arms, and now hung like a piece of laundry from a tree. It was a long drop to the ground still.

  He checked himself for broken bones, but he was fine. Unless you counted all the bruises and cuts. Which he did. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight if you counted the bruise on his shin. He pulled himself slowly, painfully to the trunk and started the downward climb. It was time to find Baileya.

  27

  THE GEARS OF

  THE WORLD

  War is when two groups of people kill each other until one group says “enough.” Then that group—the one who says “enough”—they are said to have lost the war.

  FROM “THE GOOD GARDENER,” AN ALUVOREAN STORY

  The Pastisians were preparing for war. Every person on the streets walked with purpose. In the sky overhead the towers were swarmed with airships. King Ian strode the streets, once again behind his golden mask, barking orders to those who moved too slowly, conferring with his advisors, making snap decisions about snags in the preparation. Darius and Break Bones still wore their crimson uniforms. Hanali had traded his ridiculous outfit for a tailored cream-and-gold suit with a crimson cape and a circlet of gold on his brow. Darius couldn’t help but think he was trying to look regal . . . no doubt for when he took the role of archon for his own. Mrs. Raymond walked beside the king in a black dress. She would not wear the crown they had brought her, or the golden half mask. King Ian had frowned when she turned them aside but said nothing.

  Keeping close to Ian was difficult in the midst of all this, but he demanded their presence. One moment they could scarcely keep up with him as his long legs ate up the streets. The next he stood in a knot of his subjects, speaking earnestly to them, and there was no room to be near him. The only one who seemed to anticipate his moves and be nearby at all times was Mrs. Raymond. She’d said back in the tower that she had killed her own daughter. Darius couldn’t imagine it. He wondered what the story was there but knew it was far too sensitive a question to ask.

  Ian called Darius and Break Bones to his side. “You, envoys of the Scim. Will the Scim take our side in the fight to come?”

  “The Elenil are our eternal enemy,” Break Bones said. “I only worry you will be too kind to them in your occupation. But in the battle? We will always fight alongside those who fight the Elenil.”

  “And you, Black Skull? Will you stand beside me, come what may?”

  “I will,” Darius said. “You have my word. I long to stand in the archon’s presence and retrieve my mask, and my sword cries out for his blood. Not to mention these shackles.”

  “I know you are men of your word, and I will hold you to it. Now where is the Elenil?”

  Hanali stepped forward with a smooth grace. “Here, sir.”

  “What plans are you hatching, I wonder?”

  Hanali raised his eyebrows. “Me, sire? Only to bring justice to the Elenil. Archon Thenody has lost his ability to rule well. It is time to replace him.”

  “You wish to replace him, of course.”

  “Prophets and seers have said I will be his successor, more than once. They say a human will kill him, and I shall take the throne in Far Seeing. Thenody knows this—has known for some time. No doubt he is terrified by my absence.”

  The king removed his mask, as if he were trying to get a clearer view of Hanali. “Tell me again what benefit there will be in allying with you, Hanali, son of Vivi.”

  Hanali winced at the mention of his father’s name and glanced furtively toward Darius. It was impossible to tell with Hanali if the wince was real or affected, a fact that put Darius off balance, feeling both guilt for the pain he had caused and annoyance at the Elenil. “I am glad to reassure you, Majesty. The Scim resistance within the city knows and trusts me. Ask your own wife—she will acknowledge it. We have also a sentient tunnel who has networked himself beneath the city. When Thenody has fallen, my presence will make it clear that this is a coup, not a Pastisian invasion. The Elenil people will fight you to their dying breath if they think you are going against the will of the Majestic One to try to put Pastisians in charge of the Sunlit Lands. But if I take the throne, there will be those who are angry, but why fight if their new archon commands peace?”

  The king held Hanali’s eyes for a long moment before he said, “What need have the noble Pastisians of tunnels? We are people of technology. We will fly over your medieval walls, not burrow beneath them like rodents.”

  Hanali bowed his head slightly, then said, “I forgot to mention my keen fashion sense, Majesty. I am sure this would be of use as well. I could certainly help Mrs. Raymond find something more . . . elaborate to wear.”

  The king scowled but did not answer this. It was Mrs. Raymond who spoke. “Show respect, Hanali, or you’ll find yourself a prisoner of the Pastisians, not a guest.”

  Hanali had the gall to laugh at this. “The Pastisians could not hold me long, Mrs. Raymond, as you know.” He paused. “With respect.”

  “I hope we do not have need to try those words,” King Ian said. “When the battle begins, you and Mrs. Raymond will be with me in the command ship. Break Bones, will your brothers join us?”

  “I have sent word for them to meet us at the walls. We shall worry their forces from outside the wall while yours attack from within.”

  “Excellent. Where will you fight, sir?”

  “Where the battle is thickest, Majesty, and the blood the deepest.”

  The king nodded, a business-like acknowledgment of a true warrior. “And you, Darius?”

  A wave of excitement swelled within Darius’s chest, battering at his ribs from inside. “In the front, Your Majesty. With whoever will be there first and fastest. I want to be the first person the archon sees break down his door.”

  The king watched him with solemn eyes. “Then we must take you immediately to the Gears of the World. The advance force prepares even now for departure.” The king motioned to one of his people, and in less than a minute a sort of car pulled up beside them. More truck, perhaps, than car, with long benches in the back for people to sit on. The king and Mrs. Raymond got into the front, and the rest of them piled onto the benches. Except Hanali, of course, who could not “pile” anywhere but instead lit upon a bench like a dainty bird.

  Darius couldn’t get a read on Hanali. He didn’t know if the Elenil was a fool or a genius playing the fool. He suspected genius, because he had plans within plans, secrets wrapped in seeming openness. Darius didn’t trust him, but Hanali’s entire persona—the extravagant outfits, the upper-crust way of speech, the feigned surprise when his plans were revealed, his supposed concern for the well-being of the Wasted Lands—all seemed designed to paint him as harmless. Even the way he was sitting on the bench said Hanali was a delicate little thing, no trouble at all. Darius felt lost in his interactions with Hanali, uncertain if he was reading the Elenil’s intentions correc
tly.

  Darius had the book about Hanali’s father tucked into his jacket pocket. He hadn’t had a chance to look at it yet, but he suspected King Ian had read the entire thing already. He wondered about the king’s words about the book being useful in his interactions with Hanali. Darius didn’t know what the book would reveal and could not imagine something that would be of use. But maybe it would provide some sort of road map for understanding the Elenil who might be the next archon. Hanali could be an important person in the future of the Scim people.

  As they approached the section of the city called the Gears of the World, the buildings grew shorter, and the sparkling crystal sky grew closer. There was something strange about the sky above them . . . there appeared to be holes in it. Or possibly places where the crystal sphere above them wasn’t polished or had grown dull. “Are those holes?” Darius asked.

  Hanali glanced at the sky. “So it appears. Our astronomers have noticed them in the past. There are a variety of theories to explain it. Some believe them to be natural—holes created by debris from beyond the Sunlit Lands. Others think they have always been there, and still others believe them to be purposely made.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I can say with all honesty that I have not spent a moment’s thought on holes—whether in the sky, the ground, or even, should such a thing come to be, in the ocean. I am more concerned about things that exist, not studying a phenomenon that is nothing more than the absence of something else. It would be like worrying about who has failed to murder your mother instead of who has succeeded in killing your father.” He glanced at Darius, an inscrutable look on his face.

  “It was war,” Darius said. “A battle.” Hanali making comments about this directly and in this moment took Darius off guard. And maybe that’s what it was meant to do.

  “A battle that took place on a night that has historically been a truce observed by all people in the Sunlit Lands.”

  Darius’s face flushed. “A truce day chosen because it is the one day of the year the Elenil are vulnerable. It was foolish of your enemies to allow that day to be one of peace.”

  “For precisely this reason: the Elenil are meant to live for millennia, not to die after a paltry few centuries. Yet you put your sword through my father and killed him.”

  Darius shuffled on the bench, uncomfortable. But Hanali was conveniently avoiding his own involvement in the whole scenario. “You are the one who gave the Scim—including me and the other Black Skulls—entrance to the city that night.”

  “You weren’t meant to try to take it over,” Hanali said angrily. “You did more than we agreed to! When I was archon, I would have returned the Scim artifacts to you, yet you and your people seized the moment and tried to take the city.”

  “You gambled and lost,” Darius said. “You wanted power and didn’t get it, and lost your father. That’s not on me.” The words poured out, almost without thought. Because the death of Vivi was on him, like it or not. The sword had not been in Hanali’s hand. Hanali could not have known his father would pay with his life and could not have known that the Scim—at Darius’s insistence—would alter the agreement with him in midbattle. But Darius needed to seek out Madeline at that time despite any consequences. And he didn’t trust Hanali or his plan. If he and the Scim could take the city in that moment, then he thought they should, and not risk relying on Hanali. They had been so close to succeeding, too! Yes, Darius had made the choice to abandon their plan with the Elenil faction led by Hanali. The death of Hanali’s father was one of the consequences of that decision, and so be it.

  Their vehicle stopped, and Darius jumped off first, putting distance between himself and the Elenil. Once everyone had disembarked, King Ian led them between two squat buildings to a narrow field. Men and women worked in the grassy plain, attaching a series of cables to large blue compartments. Each looked big enough to hold as many as ten soldiers. Every strand of eight cables came together in a single enormous hook made of black metal, large enough it would take three or four people to move it.

  A soldier came racing across the field on a steam-powered motorbike. He leapt off and bowed low, holding out a sealed envelope. A tiny bird, maybe three inches tall, perched on his shoulder. King Ian tore the envelope open, his eyes scanning the words. “The Elenil are massing their armies near Far Seeing . . . humans as well as Elenil prepare for war.”

  “Surely this is no surprise, my lord,” Hanali said. “Perhaps the Scim are testing the weaknesses of the wall again.”

  “No, my sources say this is different. They are preparing to travel. It is said they march on Aluvorea.”

  “Aluvorea?” Hanali asked. His pale brow furrowed. “Aluvorea.”

  Mrs. Raymond made an exasperated noise. “Do not play the fool, Hanali, not today. If you know why the Elenil would make war on those toothless pacifists, speak now.”

  Hanali faced her, mild annoyance on his face. “The only possible reason is to protect the Queen’s Throne. If someone in Aluvorea has sent word that agitators are seeking to enter the heart of the forest and rebirth magic—if someone seeks the Heartwood Crown—then the archon would be a fool not to send all his resources: every used-up soldier, every wooden sword, every lame steed in his command, and every dry crust of bread to provision them. But I have heard no such news.”

  The king turned back to the messenger. “And the bird? Does it bring tidings for me as well?”

  “No, sir, but for one of your guests. May I deliver it?”

  The king assented, and the messenger nodded to the bird, which zipped to Darius and hovered in front of him. He was shocked to see a tiny woman sitting on the bird’s back. She pointed to Darius’s face and held her hand out flat, palm up. He had heard of the fae, of course, but never seen one. They did not get on well with the Scim.

  The bird chirped loudly, drawing his attention back to the faerie, who jabbed a finger at Darius and then held her palm out flat. Uncertain what she was doing, he lifted his own palm flat. The hummingbird zipped over him, and the woman leapt off its back and landed in Darius’s hand. She started a flurry of hand gestures, but Darius had no idea what he was meant to get out of it.

  The messenger cleared his throat. “She asks if you are Darius, the one who walks.”

  King Ian leaned close. “Is that Fae Sign? Fascinating. I have not seen it before.”

  “Yes, Majesty. I studied among the Aluvoreans to write my coming-of-age book.”

  Darius studied the small woman, who seemed to be agitated that they were not speaking to her. She wore an acorn helmet and clothing made of woven moss. “What does that mean, coming-of-age book?” Darius asked.

  “Each Pastisian must write a book of original knowledge when they reach adulthood,” Mrs. Raymond said. “Observations, fiction, scholarly pursuits, or poetry.”

  King Ian said, “To be a productive member of society requires that one produce.”

  “OW!” Without thinking, Darius moved his hand. A sharp pain had come from his palm. The little woman jumped from his hand, and her bird slipped under her. She flew up to his eye level again and started signing.

  The messenger looked uncomfortable. “She says to pay attention or she will stab you again.”

  The faerie held a slender thistle in her hand like a sword. She pointed at Darius again and held her palm out straight. Darius reluctantly mirrored her, and she leapt into his hand again. Whatever she was signing, it was clear she was being a bit sarcastic. She rolled her eyes and lifted her eyebrows.

  “She asked if you are Darius, the one who walks, and wants to know if you’re paying attention. She says she can come back after the war if we’re too busy playing with knives.”

  “I’m Darius Walker, yeah.” He leaned in close to her again. “Who are you?”

  The messenger shifted to direct translation. “I’m Diwdrap of Aluvorea. Here’s your message: ‘Darius. You have just left Aluvorea, and we have just arrived. Come back to me as quickly as you can. Shula is
with me as well, and Jason and David, too. Love, Madeline.’”

  Darius stared at the faerie, as if this would somehow cause her message to make more sense. Madeline was back in the Sunlit Lands! Back, and he had missed her because he had left Jason too early on the outskirts of Aluvorea. “Is . . . is she okay?”

  The faerie shrugged. “She’s dying.”

  No doubt Madeline had sent this message immediately, but Darius and Break Bones had been so cautious to avoid being seen by anything or anyone.

  “Perhaps,” Hanali said, “Archon Thenody has learned of Madeline’s presence among the great trees. Since the loss of his hand he has had a singular focus where that girl is involved.”

  “I have to go to her,” Darius said.

  King Ian searched Darius’s face with his eyes, as if he could see straight into his soul. “The place of my warriors will be to take Far Seeing. The absence of the majority of Thenody’s soldiers will only be to our advantage. To choose between love and duty is painful. I have never regretted choosing love.” Mrs. Raymond put her hand on his arm. “I have regretted choosing duty over love more than once.”

  Darius thought about that. In a few days, if all went according to plan, the Elenil would be defeated, Hanali on the throne, the danger past, and he could seek Madeline out. On the other hand, if he went to her now, he could help her, protect her. Knowing Maddie, she was probably the reason the Elenil were marching on Aluvorea, and likely because she was doing something to change the world. Change it in a way she thought was for the better. No doubt the Elenil disagreed. He could be there with her. “Majesty, would you give me a way to get to her?”

  King Ian closed his eyes, and Mrs. Raymond squeezed his arm. She said, “Husband. Some things are more important than swords and steel.”

  The king’s dark eyes found Darius’s. “We need every soldier for Far Seeing. But who knows? If the Elenil are so worried about whatever is happening in Aluvorea, it might be best to send a group of my own there to work toward our interests. I will send a section of my people, Darius. You can join them there, or us in Far Seeing, as you see fit.”