The Guardian didn’t move, yet its voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, filling Shade’s mind. He couldn’t focus properly on the face in front of him. All he could see was a blur of features where the face should be, as though a hundred separate visages were shifting across it, no single set staying in place long enough for his mind to grasp.
‘And your talents have brought our guest to us.’
Shade couldn’t help but close his eyes at the words, as though they carried a secret command. As soon as his heavy lids closed, he found himself awash in a rushing stream of thought.
What is happening? Where are we?
We’re in the Tangle, Higgs. It called us here.
Delco! Where is Wilt?
Wilt is here, just as we are here. We are one.
Biore, can you make any sense of this?
I think—I think whatever it is can hear us.
‘You are correct, Master Biore, and you are welcome. As are your companions. Rawick, who himself came so close to becoming what you see before you. Delco, who through the strength of his love for his brother called him back from oblivion. And Higgs, who is himself the key.’
How is this possible? We were in Nurtle’s hut, she gave us Shade’s cloak, and then—
‘And now you have found what you seek. Come, Wilt. Join us.’
Shade opened his eyes again and slowly turned his head. Somewhere within his mind he felt a tearing, a slow peeling away of something that didn’t rightly belong inside him. The next moment he was staring at another figure sitting beside him. The wielder, the Black Robe from Nurtle’s hut.
‘Welcome, Wilt.’
Wilt stared at Shade, who looked just as lost and surprised as him. He turned back to the figure at the front of the clearing.
To Wilt’s eyes the Guardian was a tall, thin man in a mottled green cloak, his entire face covered by a wooden helm carved into the likeness of a stag, complete with two long twisting horns curving out of the top.
‘We have been watching you for some time now, little spark. Watching and waiting for you.’
The Guardian’s voice seemed to come at Wilt from all directions. The trees lining the clearing shifted and swayed in response, splashing long shadows across the Guardian’s helm. It moved and shifted as Wilt stared at it, until another creature entirely stared back at him, a badger or beaver-like animal, the twin horns now sprouting leaves and branches of their own, until the shadows shifted again and the vision faded.
Wilt shook his head, trying to pull his eyes away from the dizzying sight.
Ask what it wants.
‘What I want?’ The Guardian chuckled—a creaking, cracking sort of sound. ‘Youth always searches for reason, I should remember that. It has been many, many years since I was young.’
The face on the helm twisted again in the shifting light, and now an ancient, knotted trunk stared out at them, a stretched, worn face carved into its grey wood.
‘I want you to look at those fallen trees upon which you sit. Those ancient, long silent ones. They have lain in that position for longer than I have wandered these woods, longer than the five Guardians before me served, and each of those attended to their tasks for ten lifetimes of normal men. Still, their spirit remains. Their voices survive. When you listen for them, what do they tell you?’
Wilt looked at his hands clutching the brittle wood on either side of him. He closed his eyes to listen, dropping into himself, holding himself just above the raging river that flowed beneath the surface. He heard nothing.
They hunger.
Wilt’s eyes snapped open at the words; they seemed to echo inside his mind just as Higgs and the others did, but they came from the boy. From Shade.
‘Very good. They hunger. What do they hunger for?’
For life. For us.
The Guardian shook his head.
‘They hunger for a life. One that has long been held out of their reach. They hunger for me.
‘These trees have protected us for centuries, waging a silent battle on the dark that would seep to the surface world should they allow it. They protect us and yet they fear us. Fear us and loath the necessity of our existence.
‘Your parents, Shade. Nurtle and Jared. They are wildlers, they too came close to the seat I find myself in. They know the hunger of which we speak. They know too of your affinity with this place, with the depths. With your ability to ride the shadows. They know why you are here.
‘And you, Rawick.’ The Guardian turned to face Wilt. ‘You came close to this point. You felt their power.’
What is he talking about, Wilt? Are the trees a threat to us?
‘Not to you, little thief. You have nothing to fear from them.’
I … I think I know why we’re here.
Delco? What is it?
It’s Rawick. This is … this is what he has been searching for.
‘You have always been able to read your brother’s thoughts better than any human, young wielder. That is why you, too, are required.’
The Guardian looked between the two young men sitting across from him, his mask shifting again in the light to form a new face, a sad face, its bark worn down by the winds of time. His head dropped, and his voice became much quieter. ‘I have waited for this moment for many years. Waited for it and dreaded its arrival.’
He raised his head again, his voice much stronger now. ‘It is long past time for another to take on the mantle, to replace me as Guardian. I am old and weak—my inability to prevent the recent attacks within our boundaries prove that. At one time these servants of the dark would never have dared show themselves so openly. But my strength has faded, and with it the protection of the Tangle itself.’
The Guardian stood slowly, his body creaking like old wood, and raised his hands to his helm. ‘So, Shade. So, Rawick. So, Delco. I pass this task on to you.’
Wilt and Shade stood in unison, their bodies again following a silent command. The Guardian raised the helm from his head and a searingly bright shaft of sunlight flooded the clearing. There was only white—white, and a whisper in Wilt’s mind.
Farewell, Wilt. I … We … Rawick and I … have to stay here. To help Shade. To serve the forest. Thank you for holding us in the world for so long. Now it is time to let go.
Through the white fog Wilt saw two sparks drift and dance across his vision, twirling around each other. At the same time he felt a separation in his mind, a sudden emptiness.
This is where we are meant to be. This is what we were meant to do.
As his vision cleared, Wilt discovered he was sitting alone on the fallen tree. Shade was no longer next to him. On the throne in front of him sat the Guardian, the rich red wood of his carved helm shining in the sunlight as it raised its face to the sky.
‘Shade?’
The Guardian seemed only then to notice his presence. ‘You. I know you.’
The voice was changed, stronger and louder now, filled with the shift and sway of young saplings, the creak of aged timber, the naked threat of the living trees that loomed around them. It was not Shade’s voice, or Delco’s. It may have been Rawick’s, but Wilt had only heard that in whispers at the edge of his mind.
‘You have served your purpose here, wielder. You will be permitted to leave.’ The Guardian raised his head, as though sensing the wind. ‘The others that are here. The dark ones. They will not be so fortunate.’
The carved helm moved back to face him, and Wilt flinched as the visage twisted into a terrifying rendering of a human face at the height of pain. ‘Travel quickly, young spark. The trees are hungry, and not so easy to control. They will not wait long.’
A great wind suddenly gusted through the clearing, throwing whirlwinds of dust and leaves into the air, blinding Wilt completely. He found himself on his feet, arms covering his face as the wind pushed him out of the clearing and branches whipped across him. He stumbled on unthinking, his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground as he was impelled out and away.
The s
ound in the forest grew as he went, the trees seeming to urge themselves on to greater thresholds of anger and noise. Every few steps Wilt tried to glimpse his path, but could only see movement and chaos before the dirt blinded him again and he was pushed onward, always out, always away from the heart of the storm.
Finally, with one last great shove he was spat free, stumbling out into clear sunlight, out from the wall of trees lining the edge of the Tangle, into the silence and stillness of open grassland. He collapsed on the ground, his mind a whirl, the rushing tide of the depths calling to him, begging for him to sink down into them, bringing with it a wall of darkness that wrapped around him and wiped his consciousness away.
Part II
The spark has fulfilled his promise and I am reborn. The world sharpens around me, as though a veil has been lifted from my eyes. The dark abyss of the past has been lit however briefly by his light, the forking branches of possibility revealed. I recognise what has occurred, more voices joining the chorus within me. I feel no loss for the one I used to be.I walk these endless paths, somehow wandering each one simultaneously, parts of my mind racing through the hidden depths of the forest, ejecting what dark creatures remain, cleansing the way.
The trees watch me cautiously as I move through them. Their senses strain to reach me. They do not yet know what to expect from this new Guardian. What form my revenge might take. They fear me once again.
I keep my silence. I remember their tricks, their cruel games, but I look on them as a father does a wayward child. They will be corrected but not punished. Their strange children have disappeared into the past, where they belong, where they will linger until enough time has passed for them to once again be remembered and return to this world.
The elder ones creak and shift in place, their dreams troubled. They know the work is not yet done. The dark stain has been removed from their presence, yet still it remains, the barriers holding it back weakened, leaks springing forth and creatures that should not walk the surface world rushing to escape.
The spark moves on, out of my reach, yet I still feel his connection. Part of his mind now lies within mine. He too feels the pull.
Others are coming, other visitors who share a connection with him. Perhaps they will help me further shape his fate. All of our fates. All tangled around him like the snaggled roots of an elder, delving too deep, too far into the past. Altering what once was.
We have not seen the last of each other. Of that I am certain.
20
Wilt woke in the sunlight, face down in the dirt. For a moment he lay perfectly still, soaking in the warmth and heat, until the memory of where he had just been rushed in and he sprang to his feet, ready to face any threat.
There was nothing. He was safe.
He stood at the edge of the Tangle, a single uninterrupted wall of trees facing him. They seemed to shift and sway with the breeze, pulsing back at him a warning as clear as if it were shouted to the heavens.
He turned away from them and headed south, not wanting to provoke any further reaction.
His head felt light and clear, as though a great weight had been lifted. He hadn’t been aware how much room inside his mind Delco and Rawick had taken up, or at least how much of his mind was always concentrating on maintaining the connection to them. He felt the sun and the air more fully, as though he had taken two great strides back from the brink of the depths, toward the light and noise of the surface world. Toward humanity.
We’re still here, you know.
I know, Higgs. It’s just that … I guess I didn’t realise how tiring it was becoming, holding you all in there.
It is a danger I have been thinking long about, Wilt. The human mind is not designed to hold such connections for so long. We could be putting you in danger. That is why Nurtle drugged you when she found you, to shut us out, at least for some time. To let you return from the edge.
I’m fine, Biore. There’s nothing for you to worry about.
What about Shade?
What about him?
Well, he’s gone now too, isn’t he? Won’t Nurtle want to know what happened to him? How are we supposed to explain that?
Higgs’s thought snapped Wilt out of his reverie. He wasn’t sure what had happened inside the Tangle himself, so how was he going to explain it to anyone else?
All too soon Wilt found the path under his feet becoming cleared and better maintained as he approached the edge of the village. He stepped off it, knowing it led to the centre of the village, heading instead for the small hut on the outskirts where Nurtle lived. There was nothing else for it, he’d just have to explain what had happened. How he had failed.
‘So, wielder. You have news, I expect.’ Nurtle stood in the open doorway of her hut, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her mouth was twisted into a frown, and immediately Wilt tried to stutter out an explanation.
‘I … Sorry. It’s a little …’
Nurtle continued to glower at him for some moments before her face broke into a wide smile and she held her arms out toward him. ‘Come here, boy. Today is a momentous day for our family.’
Before he knew what was happening, Wilt was wrapped in a hug, his head pressed deep into Nurtle’s chest.
‘Let the boy go, woman. He’ll pass out from lack of oxygen in there.’
Nurtle’s hug relaxed and Wilt pulled his head back to see Jared standing behind them, a wide smile on his face.
As soon as her arms relaxed, Nurtle stepped toward Jared and they linked hands. ‘Come, sit down, child.’ She waved him inside the hut and pushed a steaming mug of something spicy into his hands.
‘It’s okay.’ She smiled at Wilt’s questioning look. ‘This is a simple herbal tea. Drink, it will be good for you. We owe you an explanation. Let me begin at the beginning.’
Nurtle and Jared sat next to each other on the bed, facing Wilt, their hands still intertwined as though neither could stand being too far removed from the other.
‘You are from Redmondis,’ Nurtle began. ‘You must know something of what happened to those who refused to submit to the rule of the Nine Sisters.’
‘Wildlers.’
Nurtle grinned at the words. ‘Yes, that is what they called us, hoping to insult us, I expect. I quite like the term.’
She and Jared locked eyes then, as if some secret message was passing between them. Then Nurtle turned back to Wilt.
‘Many years ago, before the rise of the Nine Sisters, Jared and I found ourselves recruited into Redmondis. We each had talent, some of the skill the Black Robes are so proud of. But we differed from them. It didn’t take the masters long to recognise that fact.’
Jared took over the telling, his words bleeding into Nurtle’s. ‘Understand that times were very different then. Many more variations of the skill were accepted, even encouraged. Nurtle and I discovered in each other a kindred spirit of sorts. We shared many things. Many appetites.’
Nurtle slapped Jared’s thigh with her free hand. ‘That’s more than enough of that.’
‘What I mean to say, Wilt,’ Jared continued, ‘is that we found each other’s skill complimentary. The way we accessed and shaped the welds worked better together than apart. So much so that the next step seemed the only one that made sense. Some wielders take on other forms, as you know. Others have wards who share part of their minds and some of their powers. We went one step further.’
Oh. I’ve heard about this.
‘We took on each other’s form completely. Became one.’
They turned to each other again, smiling shyly at some shared memory before Nurtle took up the story again. ‘The Tangle showed us the way. The trees—they share a consciousness while still maintaining separate bodies. But it was not such a simple task, joining in this way. It required work and sacrifice.’
Wilt had a sudden flash of understanding. ‘Shade.’
‘Yes.’ Nurtle’s smile twisted into sadness. ‘Our child, Shade. He was the product of two wild ones who shared the same mind. Some
thing that shouldn’t have been possible. Yet, with the help of the Tangle, it was done.’
Wilt remembered the strange, otherworldly knowledge that lurked within the small boy’s eyes. The sense that he was more than human.
‘Shade was our gift, and our price. The trees, they are strong, wild, but they require a voice, a Guardian to help guide their appetites. The current Guardian was ageing, had been old for generations already. The Tangle was weakening. Threats haunted its shadows, threats that only a decade ago would never have been possible within its borders. A new shepherd was required, one with a special affinity for the voice of the trees. So Shade was given to us to guide and help to grow. And it became obvious very early on that he was not what you would call a normal child. He was forest touched, forest born. In time he would be called.’
Nurtle’s eyes misted over as she spoke. ‘And you helped guide him through the transition, Wilt. Somehow, it was eased because of your presence. You helped him to answer the Guardian’s call.’
Delco. Rawick. This is why they were needed. This is why we were brought here. Led here, by the forest. By the Guardian itself, I would guess.
‘It wasn’t me,’ Wilt whispered. ‘It was Rawick.’
Jared sat up straighter at the name. ‘Ah. Rawick. I’ve heard that name before. The trees have spoken of him. He was another wildler, though he went even further … joined with the welds themselves, it was said. I thought—’
‘We thought that meant he had surrendered his life completely. It is good to know that is not the case.’
Jared wrapped his other hand around Nurtle’s. ‘Now our task here is completed. The trees have told us of the new Guardian, the new strength they feel. It is time for the next phase.’
Wilt looked between them, aware he was missing something. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This village can no longer survive on the edge of the Tangle,’ Jared answered. ‘The days of humans entering its depths whenever they wish are over, at least for now. To cleanse itself the Tangle has closed its borders. It will no longer be a source of trade or food for our people.’
The Forked Path Page 13
