Petron’s simple words seemed to break the spell that had come over her, and Nurtle shook her head. ‘I … apologise. We all know what Wrex—’
Petron waved the words away and put his empty cup back on the table. ‘The problem remains.’
‘You see it as a problem. Perhaps it should be viewed as an opportunity. You are sending a representative to Sontair, are you not?’
Petron grimaced. ‘I see Redmondis’ ability to keep a secret hasn’t improved.’
‘You underestimate us wildlers once again. We have ears everywhere. Some closer than you’d expect.’
‘It is true. The guard captain I’ve told you of, Daemi, will lead a small group. She is perhaps our best officer, and a break from these stone walls will do her good.’
‘Ah yes, the one who shares the connection with Wilt. He will also be sent south once he finishes his task with us. I’ve no doubt they will find each other.’
‘Is that really—’
‘It is unavoidable. From what you’ve told me their minds are deeply linked. I can recognise the signs in others.’
‘Daemi is not a wielder. They could not become what you are. What I and Wrex—’
‘But Wilt is more powerful than either of us. Who can tell what they are capable of sharing?’ Nurtle nodded to herself, her eyes shining in the firelight. ‘Are you so certain of the limits of this power, Petron? Haven’t we all learned by now not to underestimate the depths?’
13
Why can’t I wake him up?
Higgs’s voice had an edge of panic. For too long now he’d been floating in still darkness, waiting for the familiar light of Wilt’s consciousness to illuminate the world, but there was nothing.
Wilt will wake in time. He is safe, can’t you feel it? He needs to rest. His mind and body both need time to repair. He hasn’t been taking care of himself.
You mean we, Biore. We haven’t been taking care.
I don’t think there’s any significant damage. Nothing rest won’t cure.
What if he never wakes again?
You don’t believe that. Besides, that … thing … was not our enemy. You must have felt it, the familiarity. It spoke like it knew who we are.
It was a wildler. A very strong one.
You know what it was, Delco?
Rawick does. He recognised it immediately. He’s become much more talkative all of a sudden. Much more present. Like something woke him up.
And he knows about this …
Wildler. Like him, in a way. Like all the others who slipped out of Redmondis’ grasp. Some escaped, some were forced out, some were lucky enough never to have been siphoned up in the first place.
Like Petron.
No, Higgs, Petron had some training. This one was much more free. Much more dangerous. Some wielders let the welds themselves consume them.
More like Rawick then.
Yes, but Rawick didn’t mean for what happened to him to occur.
Like Wilt will become if we continue to let him spend so much time in the shadows.
It said something about a spark. You think—
I think it was talking to Rawick.
Ah. Now that is interesting.
But it doesn’t help us. How do we wake up Wilt, Delco? What does Rawick say?
He’s not … it’s hard to get him to focus on a subject. It’s not a conversation. He says … he says we should go back there, to the forest. We need to speak to the Guardian again.
The Guardian?
‘That’s quite enough of that. Time to quieten down in there. Let your friend return to the surface world for a time. He is safe in my care.’
There was a long silent pause as the world seemed to freeze in place.
‘Open your eyes, young wielder. Open your eyes and return to the waking world.’
Wilt followed the command automatically, and stared up into the lined grey face of an old woman, her eyes burning into him with a strange blue glow. As he focused on them the glow faded, and the edges of her mouth curved into a knowing smile.
‘Those lenses you wear are clever. Real crafter work. I suppose we all need our little disguises. Here now, drink.’
A cup of something warm and strangely spiced was held to his lips, and again he followed the command, swallowing without thinking, the thick syrup coating his throat as it slid down, lighting a fire in his belly as soon as it hit. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. He tried to sit up and reach for the cup to pour more of the golden liquid into his mouth, but the woman was too quick for him, pulling the cup away and hiding it behind her, her smile growing wider.
‘Ah! You are thirsty, you still have your appetite. That is good. But this particular brew is not something you should take too much of. Not at your age.’
Wilt sat up and looked around. He was in a small hut, much like the ones in the deserted village he had found. Before he chased the boy. Before he saw—
‘Where am I?’
His voice sounded strange in his ears. Weak and thin. He wondered when was the last time he’d used it.
‘You are in Copring, at the southern edge of the great forest you know as the Tangle. My name is Nurtle. You are under my care. You are safe here.’
Wilt pulled his eyes back to the woman standing over him. His mind was flooded with questions, he needed to slow the rush with simple facts. The woman blocked most of his view of the room. She seemed enormous, her features oversized, her head impossibly large. Long strands of grey hair curled down from her scalp and disappeared behind her back, tied in a long ponytail. She looked friendly enough, the cracked skin of her face pulled into a thin smile. Cracked skin, almost bark-like. Almost like—
‘How did I get here? I was in-’
‘You were somewhere few have seen and even fewer have returned from.’
Her smile was fading as she stared at him, the strange glow returning to her eyes. He could feel himself slipping into them.
‘There was a … thing. Waiting for me.’
He tried to resist the pull, but the edges of his vision were already turning dark. Her eyes were the whole world now, her firm palm pushing down on his forehead, guiding him back into unconsciousness.
‘You have walked a dark path, young wielder. Or should I call you wraith? You have spent too long in that long forgotten form, too long under its spell. Too long in the forest. Those trees can play tricks on even the strongest minds. Sleep now.’
Wilt couldn’t help but fall back into darkness.
‘Sleep. That goes for all of you in there.’
Wilt opened his eyes and stared out the single square window, the only light in the dim room. He swayed, his memory reaching back to another time, a cut hole in a canvas canopy, an old wagon rolling and bouncing along a rutted mountain track, cutting through the Tangle on its way to Redmondis. A high cloud slid slowly across the dawn sky, a giant hand reaching out and spinning the world back up to speed.
Suddenly another shape loomed into view, a shadowed head that popped up from the edge of the sill and froze as their eyes met. A boy. Wilt recognised him instantly. The boy he had chased through the forest. The one who had led him—
Wilt sat up in a rush and the world lurched sickeningly to the side.
‘Easy there. Not so fast.’
A firm hand gripped his shoulder and held him upright as he began to fall. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to will away the fog that swamped his vision.
‘What—’
‘Be quiet. Be still. You have slept deeply. Wait for the dreams and memories to clear.’
Wilt focused on the hand gripping his shoulder and the voice that seemed to anchor him to the physical world. He sniffed and smelled the open fire and the recently cooked breakfast, and other, stranger spices in the air.
Finally the universe tired of twisting his mind, and he focused on the blanket that covered his legs. It was thick and warm and not at all rough on his skin. His skin. He was naked.
The thought
brought with it a strange panic and he stared up at the woman holding his shoulder, his mouth moving again but no sound coming out.
‘Be still, wielder. You have come a long way. You are safe here.’
The woman—Nurtle, that was her name—smiled down at him. Her eyes looked normal, no longer glowing with that strange light that had held him before. He shook his head and the troubling memory faded back into the depths. She was just an old woman.
‘I’m Nurtle. You remember. I have been taking care of you.’
‘Copring. I’m in Copring.’
‘That’s right.’ Her hand patted his shoulder a final time, and she turned back to the fire. ‘I haven’t completely lost my touch then.’
Pots and pans crashed together as she rummaged about the hearth. ‘Copring. A village on the southern edge of the great forest—the Tangle as you call it. You were found wandering, lost. Quite the worse for wear. Haven’t been eating properly, haven’t been looking after yourself. Neglecting your physical needs.’
She turned to flash a raised eyebrow at him, as though they were both in on some secret he was only dimly aware of.
‘You called me ‘wraith’?’
‘An old name for the shadow form you dwelled in. Long forgotten now. For the best perhaps. You have spent too long in its thrall.’
There had been something else—he had seen something.
He spun around to face the window again, and sure enough the small head was there, dropping out of view with a muffled yelp.
‘Don’t let the child bother you. Shade is his name, and one well suited to his nature. Curiosity is the gift and the curse of youth. One thing age has taught me is that we simply have to suffer it.’
Wilt turned back from the window as Nurtle placed a plate of food in his lap, and he suddenly forgot everything except his hunger.
‘Eat. Your body needs it.’
He needed no further encouragement. He dove into the food—eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and some sort of spinach he hadn’t tasted before. It was all delicious. Better than anything he’d eaten in …
‘That’s a start at least. You need to put some meat back on those bones of yours.’
Wilt swallowed what was in his mouth and blushed at his nakedness. He pulled the blanket up over his chest.
Nurtle chuckled and turned back to the fire. ‘Ah. You flatter an old woman. Here.’ She tossed Wilt’s clothes over her shoulder to land on his lap. ‘If your modesty insists, dress yourself.’
She resumed pottering over the fire as he pulled his clothes on. With a sudden rush of panic he remembered the heat ring, but it was still on his finger. Where was the moonsteel blade?
As if in reply, Nurtle pointed to the far corner of the room. ‘And I don’t want to know how you stumbled upon that particular treasure. I’ve already had to hide it from prying eyes. Keep it hidden if you must carry it about.’
Wilt buckled the long knife back onto his hip and stood, self-consciously adjusting his clothes.
‘All part of the same problem, of course,’ Nurtle continued to mutter to herself. ‘Humans with no understanding of what they’re dealing with, digging themselves ever deeper.’
She turned back to face him and smiled. ‘There now. You look very smart. Feel better?’
‘Er … yes. Thanks.’
Wilt stood awkwardly in front of her as her eyes moved up and down his body, as if studying him for leaks. Her gaze skipped over the blade on his hip, as if she found the sight troubling, then froze on the ring on his finger.
‘And as for that.’ Her hand shot out impossibly fast and pulled his fingers up close to her face. ‘This I have never seen before. A rare thing, in this world. Clever. Very clever.’ She dropped Wilt’s hand and stared at him, the strange blue glow lighting her eyes again, hypnotising him. ‘Your young friend is smarter than he looks.’
The next moment the glow was gone and Wilt was left gazing into an amused old woman’s eyes. She patted him gently on the shoulder and turned away. ‘You still have much to learn, and no time in which to learn it. Here.’
She flung a deep green cloak over his shoulders, fixing it in place around his neck before he knew what was happening.
‘You lost your cloak in the forest, didn’t you? That’s all right, it wasn’t made for this climate anyway. This …’ She smoothed the material and Wilt felt an immediate comforting warmth spread over him. ‘This is much more suitable. Think of it as a gift. From the trees.’
Wilt stood dumbly in front of her, not knowing what to say. Finally his mind caught up to her words. ‘How did you know about my cloak?’
‘The trees see many things.’ Her voice was low and serious, then her face broke into a wide smile. ‘And they gossip worse than a gaggle of old women. Trust me, I should know.’
Nurtle turned him around and guided him toward the door of the hut. ‘The village leader, a man by the name of Jared, is waiting to speak with you. Your arrival here is timely in more ways than one. He is in the large hut in the centre of the village, you can’t miss it. I’m sure you’ll recognise him quickly enough.’
Wilt glanced back at Nurtle. She grinned knowingly and opened the door. ‘Now it is time for you to rejoin the human world, young wielder. Try not to get into too much trouble.’
14
Wilt stood outside Nurtle’s hut and surveyed the scene laid out before him. Copring. It was small, smaller even than the ruined village he’d discovered in the Tangle. That thought brought another rushing to the forefront of his mind and he whirled around three hundred and sixty degrees. No wall of tall, silent trees stood guard around this village.
He was finally outside the Tangle. For the first time in days, perhaps weeks. The first time since leaving Redmondis.
He waited for an answering voice from inside his mind, from Higgs or Biore or even Delco, but there was nothing, only a strangely warm silence. As though the voices hadn’t left but were simply muted somehow.
He licked his lips, the strange taste of the drink Nurtle had fed him still lingering on his tongue. Had she drugged him, altered him in some way?
Had he lost them?
No. He felt sure Nurtle hadn’t done him any harm. His mind felt fuzzy, yet content, as though he were floating on a warm cloud.
Wilt stretched and breathed in the clean open air and felt more himself than he had in … he wasn’t sure how long.
A large bonfire smouldered in what seemed to be the centre of the village, its grey smoke coiling high into the clear blue sky above. The bare ground around its edges was packed down, and a well-worn trail snaked out from there to the entrance of the large central hut that had to be the one Nurtle had mentioned.
He followed the path, nodding now and then to the villagers who passed him, all seemingly informed of his presence and told to ignore the young stranger in their midst. They smiled blankly but averted their eyes as soon as they met and it was clear none of them wanted him to speak with him. There was something else too, something not quite right about the whole picture. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but once again the strange surge of contentment wafting over him blurred that thought away before it could trouble him any further.
Before he knew it he was standing at the door of the central hut, his hand already pushing it open. At the last moment he realised he should probably announce himself and coughed out a greeting. ‘Uh, hello?’
The door to the hut swung open at his touch to reveal a large, well-lit room. At the far end, an enormous table was pushed against one wall, its surface covered with scattered papers and maps. Over this bent a tall, muscular man, his attention focused on some detail in the papers. The man stood and turned around, and Wilt felt an immediate rush of vertigo as he stared into eyes he had once looked out from in a dream.
Jared. This was Jared.
‘Ah, Wilt. I’m glad you’ve come.’
The voice seemed to wrap out across the room and wind around him, pulling Wilt further in. He found his feet moving, until he
stopped, catching himself and resisting the strange pull trying to take control. It was almost like a weld, yet different. Less focused. It was as though a wide net of smaller welds had been cast over his mind, covering it rather than striking into its centre. He studied it for a moment before slamming down the walls of his mind and severing it.
Jared flinched as the connection broke, but his smile only widened. ‘Aha! So Nurtle wasn’t exaggerating. Sorry about that, but I had to be sure.’
‘You’re … a wielder?’
Jared shook his head, his smile twisting into a rueful grin. ‘The Nine Sisters would not have agreed with that assessment. Think of us as your weaker cousins. We had some talent, a lot less focused than yours, a lot less human, you could say. A lot less useful for the powers that claimed Redmondis.’
‘Wildlers.’ Wilt wasn’t sure where he’d heard the term, but it popped into his mind automatically.
‘That is one of the names they tarred us with in the north. Aimless. Unfocused. Dangerous. Wildler is good enough. Our talents share a great deal with the wild forest. It is where our powers come from. It is where we will eventually return.’
Suddenly the vision of the strange creature Wilt had stumbled upon in the forest washed over him. ‘I met someone, in the Tangle. Something. It knew me.’
‘The forest Guardian. The tree shepherd. The spirit of the shadows. He, too, has many names. And much in common with you, if Nurtle is to be believed. Apparently he’s very interested in you. Has been for some time.’
Jared’s smile grew wider as he saw the effect of his words on Wilt. ‘Try not to let an old man’s mysticism worry you too much. You’re still feeling the effects of the treeblood Nurtle fed you. You have questions, and not all of them can be answered right now. Here.’
He patted Wilt on the shoulder and pointed at the desk with his other hand.
Wilt looked down at the large map spread out on the table in front of Jared. It was the Tangle, all of it, a massive green belt of trees that spread across the entire table, a full two metres each side. There at the far north edge were the mountains where Redmondis sat, and here, miles and miles south was the village of Copring, right against its southern edge. Through the centre of the forest ran a wide river, one Wilt had never even knew existed.
The Forked Path Page 9
