The Forked Path

by T. R. Thompson

  There are no Black Robes with these soldiers, no wielders at all. I think Jared’s right, the captain has a need for one. And no, Biore, I’m not going to just use a weld on him.

  These guards sure are nervous.

  They’ve been on patrol too long, Higgs. Seen too many strange things. The Tangle has well and truly got to them.

  Wilt continued on, ignoring the looks and grunts his passing caused, until he came to the centre of the camp, a large, double-roomed tent with two guards posted at its entryway.

  It looks just like Wrexley’s tent. Remember?

  Wilt smiled at Higgs’s words and the memory of their first trip to Redmondis. So long ago now.

  He was shaken from this thoughts by movement at the entrance to the tent as the two guards snapped to attention. Captain Mont stepped out, acknowledging their salute with a distracted wave as he marched away.

  ‘Captain Mont!’ Wilt hurried to catch up.

  At the sound of his name, the captain stopped and turned, staring at Wilt as he trotted toward him. ‘And you are?’ His tone was tired.

  ‘Wilt, Captain. My name is Wilt. Jared sent me.’

  ‘Oh. Another scout are you? Go back to Jared and tell him we’ve more than enough already, especially considering how the last few village “scouts” had a remarkable tendency to disappear as soon as we entered the forest.’

  ‘Not a scout, Captain. Something far more useful.’

  Wilt reached up and slid the lenses covering his black eyes free, at the same time sending a single weld slithering into the captain’s mind. Immediately the captain’s right hand waved in the air as though he were greeting a friend. Then he pulled the weld free and released his hold on the captain.

  He bowed his head to give the captain time to regain his composure and slid the lenses back into place.

  ‘So. Another witch, are you?’ The captain’s strained voice was the only sign something had shaken his nerve.

  ‘A wielder, sir. Trained in Redmondis. I believe you may find my particular skills quite useful.’

  The captain grunted and looked Wilt up and down again. ‘You don’t look like a Black Robe.’

  ‘No, sir. I’m not. Not anymore. There have been some recent changes.’

  ‘Yes.’ The captain snorted. ‘I’ve heard rumours of the recent happenings in the north.’

  What does he know about Redmondis? Ask him about Petron, and Daemi, and—

  Wilt smiled and pushed Higgs’s thoughts down. ‘Suffice to say things have improved for the better. I can assure you I am just as skilled a wielder as any who wear the black robes, and just as useful to a patrol who intends to enter the Tangle.’

  The captain continued to study Wilt, then gave a quick nod. ‘Very well. The next patrol leaves in an hour. Report to the scouting party—Sergeant Gould. I’ll send word ahead so you’re expected. They’ll be waiting for you at the northern edge of the camp. We travel light and fast and if you can’t keep up you’ll be left behind.’

  ‘Sir!’ Wilt saluted.

  The captain turned and marched away, calling out over his shoulder, ‘Perhaps you can help us avoid the tricks the Tangle likes to play.’

  17

  Shade had to admit it. He was lost.

  He hadn’t thought it possible. He’d spent all his life in the Tangle, wandering its paths, listening to its low murmur and avoiding the random cruel tricks the Others liked to play. Now though, none of the surrounding trails seemed familiar. As soon as he found one worthy of pursuing, it seemed to curve around on itself until he was somehow back where he started.

  He’d even tried climbing some of the trees, though they too resisted his efforts, bending themselves out of his way and shifting branches and boughs suddenly out of reach. Finally he’d glimpsed the late afternoon sky and got a sense of direction, but as soon as he was back on the forest floor, the trees seemed determined to shepherd him away from his chosen path. After only a few steps he’d be faced with an impossible solid wall of trees that even his thin figure was unable to squeeze through. And so he’d be forced to turn around and try to flank them, but the forest always seemed one step ahead.

  And the Others, their voices much clearer now, as though they too were all converging on this one spot. Their conspiratorial whispers seemed to leak out of the shadows to fill his ears.

  A challenge!

  So soon?

  Long overdue. Look how weakened we are.

  But none have succeeded. Even the strongest of us.

  And little Shade hopes to succeed?

  He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to ignore them. Nurtle had warned him about this as soon as she’d seen the cloak the Guardian had gifted him. How it would open certain doors, certain paths that normally remained closed.

  Future and past entwined.

  The words on the clasp that had held it. The words forced out of him. Had he brought this on himself? Or was it the Guardian, drawing him ever deeper. Was this what Nurtle had feared?

  Time to climb, little Shade.

  Climb for your life.

  Or your death.

  It’s all the same to us, you know.

  Shade let their words wash over him, not paying attention to their meaning. His mind was buzzing, as though the forest’s song itself had grown in strength. Their words were just another breeze in the leaves. He kept his eyes closed and let the voice of the forest hum his heart into stillness.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was deep in the forest, the light dim, the high sun blocked out by ranks of close-growing trees. The air was thick and muggy, heavy with moisture and the warmth of rotting things, making it hard to breathe.

  He was standing in front of an enormous trunk, easily twenty feet across. It was the biggest tree he’d ever seen.

  The Challenge Tree!

  How high can little Shade climb?

  How fast?

  Not high or fast enough.

  Not a runt like you.

  Hurry up and start, boy.

  We’ll be right behind you.

  Shade ignored them, staring up at the mighty tree in front of him. He craned his head back until his neck ached, and still he couldn’t see the top. The tree seemed to disappear into the high shadows, growing up into the clouds itself. There was no telling how tall it was.

  As the Others continued their chatter, Shade stepped forward and placed one palm on the mighty trunk, closing his eyes to better hear the whispered voice deep within. This had to be the oldest tree he’d ever encountered. Its voice would lie deep.

  Scared?

  Shade opened his eyes and looked back at the source of the voice, the set of wild black eyes that stared out at him from the forest shadows.

  He shook his head and smiled, and suddenly the air was filled with wild animal cries, screeches and hisses, squawks and barks.

  Still the Others remained in the shadows, only their black eyes visible. Waiting for him.

  Shade faced the trunk and focused his mind on it, reaching out again with both hands now to feel the throb of life under his hands. He could sense the power running under his palms, the thrum of life surging through the bark, the silent song of the tree calling to him. He turned his head and placed his ear against the tree, tuning himself to it, letting it take him where it would.

  Finally he stepped back and shrugged his cloak free from his shoulders. The Others stopped their cries and silence descended on the clearing as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

  Shade broke into movement, sprinting right at the tree, taking three quick steps directly up its trunk and leaping out and up to grasp the first low branch. His momentum sent his body swinging around the branch; he tucked his legs in and let go of his grip, flying through the air to land feet first on the next branch over.

  Some Others let out a small cheer at the sight.

  Shade looked down and smiled, waving briefly before turning back to the tree and scampering upwards, disappearing into the shadows.

  He’s
fast.

  Faster than we’ve seen in an age.

  But is he strong enough?

  Brave enough?

  Open enough?

  Quickly now.

  We’ll have to catch him at the Twist.

  We’re coming to get you, little Shade.

  Shade had left all thought of his pursuers far behind, concentrating instead on the continuing deep hum of the tree under his fingertips as he climbed. He could feel it urging him ever higher, lending his limbs strength with each step. The leaves on the surrounding branches joined the song, the wind that stirred them pushing at his back and shoulders, until he forgot about his hands and feet entirely and let the forest song overwhelm him and lift him up the tree.

  This was what Nurtle meant by the spirit of the forest, surely; this other intelligence, teasing him, dancing at the edge of his mind, almost making itself known and understood.

  The surrounding branches melted away suddenly, and he faced a long gap in the trunk of the great tree, still ten feet wide even at this height. The trunk seemed to bow and twist around itself here, as though the tree long ago had to bend around some obstacle now lost to the past, warping itself as it pursued the sunlight.

  Shade studied the twining shape, trying to understand what had caused this anomaly. There was something there, some note deep in the song thrumming under his palms, a dark edge of threat.

  He closed his eyes. It was right there, a scurrying shadow flitting just out of reach.

  Something cracked into the trunk beside his head and his eyes snapped open, the vision wrenched away. He looked around, but there was no sign of any threat.

  Be careful not to fall, little Shade.

  The call came from metres below, and Shade knew suddenly what danger he faced. A spark of fear bloomed in his chest, bringing with it other thoughts, other possibilities.

  He swallowed and pushed the panicked thought away, concentrating on each hand and foothold, trying to keep his mind focused on the task. The hum of the tree under his palms rose in volume in response, rising against the sudden fear, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, then taking it in hand and leading it back down to a steady rhythm.

  A second rock smacked against the trunk, this time just to the side of his right hand, showering it in tiny pieces of wooden shrapnel. He looked down, following the path of the missile, and saw a single set of black eyes staring back at him from the edge of the shadows below.

  Shade closed his eyes and turned back to the trunk, letting the tree guide his hands and feet now, forgetting the world around him. Forgetting all but the tree and the life that flowed under his fingers.

  As he moved he felt other presences, other beings moving with him, below him, on the edge of his skin. Closed minds that scurried carelessly upwards.

  Finally he felt leaves and shoots under his hand again, and Shade opened his eyes back to the surface world. He’d reached the end of the bizarrely twisted, bare section of trunk and could pull himself up into the relative safety of thick foliage again.

  A third rock flew past his head, ripping through the leaves around him as it went. It thudded into the trunk above him so hard it caused the tree to shudder in response, the hum inside it rising in volume again.

  As if it were angry.

  Shade climbed, faster than he had before, his mind filled with the song of the Tangle, the deepening drone wiping all other thought away.

  He could feel the Others dropping further behind, losing interest in the chase as he disappeared from view.

  No. One still came. He could feel the heat of a life force moving across the twisted section of trunk now metres below. One wasn’t going to give up.

  The tree hummed under his fingers again and Shade slowed his ascent. Why was he running? Why not stop and wait in the shadows? Wait for him to come.

  Shade shook the dark thoughts from his mind and continued to climb. He was impossibly high now, yet still the sunlight only flickered in and out of view from still higher. How long had this great tree stood here, watching the forest grow up around it? How many other trees were its children?

  What kind of mind inhabits such an ancient thing?

  The tree hummed again in answer, louder now, until the sound filled his mind. He felt sure the noise had to be heard all across the forest, the song washing all thought clear.

  This way, little Shade. Climb, and forget all else.

  The voice creaked through him. His awareness narrowed and stretched, bending away, leaving his body behind.

  He looked up from studying where to place his hands and feet to catch a glimpse of the boy, but he was much higher now, still moving fast. Where had the runt learned to climb like that? Even the Twist had only slowed him momentarily.

  His forearms ached with the strain of climbing, the tension of clutching each branch tighter than the last as the ground sunk further away. He grunted, scanning the shadows for some sign of his prey. He only had two more rocks. He had to make sure.

  The tree seemed to bend and twist under his hands as though trying to shake him loose. He could feel the ground far below calling to him, sucking him toward it. He looked down again and felt the world turn around the tree, spinning him into dizziness.

  Shade shook himself and was back in his own mind, staring at his hand on the trunk of the tree. Those hadn’t been his thoughts. That was the Other. The one following him.

  A single bead of sweat ran out of his tousled hair and tricked down the side of his face.

  That’s right, little Shade. That’s just how it is done.

  Shade closed his eyes and reached out again for what he knew was there.

  The tree twisted under him again and he almost lost his grip, catching himself in a last scrambling moment to cling on. The tree was actively fighting him now.

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew the small sharp knife he carried there. He dug it slowly into the bark in front of his face, twisting it cruelly as it went to carve out a round hole in the timber.

  That’s what you get. That’s why you don’t cross me.

  Somewhere deep below his consciousness a howl of fury and pain cried out in answer.

  He dropped the knife, and it disappeared into the shadows below. He stared at the hand that had let it fall. It looked foreign to him, not his hand at all. It was smaller, much smaller than his own.

  He watched as the hand reached out to the trunk and pushed itself away, letting gravity take hold. He was nothing more than a great weight, plummeting through broken sunlight, through the dimness to the darkness and oblivion waiting below.

  Shade opened his eyes and examined his hand, the same hand he had just seen through other eyes. He stared at the trunk until the final image, the moment when the body met the ground, faded slowly from his mind.

  Come. Climb. See what power awaits, little Shade. Little wraithling.

  He climbed ever higher, up into the light.

  18

  Wilt trudged along the path slowly, struggling to peer through the dim light that filtered to ground level through the rows upon rows of branches and leaves high above. The soldier was only three metres ahead, but was barely visible. The man’s cloak was little more than a shadow that swung in and out of focus as they made their way along the thin forest trail, deeper into the Tangle.

  No wonder these guards have been seeing things.

  Wilt grunted at Higgs’s words and ducked as a low branch suddenly loomed into view through the fog. The man in front hadn’t called out a warning; there was hardly any noise at all, just the dull thump of heavy boots on the damp forest floor. Even the birds had fallen silent.

  Unnatural. A forest shouldn’t be this quiet.

  It was never like this for us, was it, Biore? I don’t remember much, Wilt replied.

  Perhaps we’d be better off in another form, Wilt. One that is more comfortable moving through the shadows.

  What did Nurtle call us? A wraith? Are you sure we’re strong enough to risk that here?

  Wilt ig
nored the thoughts and kept moving, concentrating on keeping the shadow in front of him in sight so he didn’t lose his way. The trail they were following was little more than an animal track, all too easy to wander from if you weren’t paying attention.

  Or if the trees feel like playing games.

  Delco’s words were forgotten as the guard in front suddenly became clearer, and Wilt almost stumbled into his back before realising the column had stopped.

  The man turned his head and muttered over his shoulder. ‘You. The sergeant wants you up front.’

  His duty done, the man leaned against the nearest trunk and rummaged in his cloak pockets for pipe and tobacco, eager to take advantage of any halt in the long march. Wilt pushed past him and moved toward the front, past a thin line of guards he had heard no sound from in the eerie silence of the forest.

  At the front of the column Sergeant Gould waited, muttering to his second in command, his face stern and still. ‘Wielder.’

  Wilt nodded and stood at attention as the sergeant looked him up and down.

  ‘From Redmondis, the captain says.’ He punctuated these words by spitting to the side of the trail, as though the name left a sour taste in his mouth.

  The second in command’s face twisted at the sergeant’s words, but he held his tongue.

  ‘I’ve met some of your kind before,’ the sergeant continued. ‘Can’t say I found them too useful. But the captain feels otherwise and what the captain wants, the captain gets.’

  ‘What can I help with?’

  The sergeant nodded down the path that snaked away from them into the shadows. ‘This point marks the deepest we’ve moved into the Tangle so far. Ahead is virgin territory. I’d appreciate anything you can do to ensure we don’t stumble into a surprise.’

  Wilt tried to peer through the dim light, but could see nothing.

  We’re not going to see anything that way, boy.

  Of course. ‘Wait here.’ Wilt didn’t wait for a reply; he strode ahead down the trail, leaving the soldiers to stare at his back as it faded into the fog. In only a few steps he was alone.