Forestborn

by Elayne Audrey Becker

  Violet folds her arms, her expression clear but grim. Weslyn stares at the ground.

  “As of this morning, the situation has become graver than I anticipated. It seems Eradain’s young king has issued an ultimatum.” King Gerar leans over the table and glances down at the map. “We have two months to agree to his terms or refuse, and it is clear that the penalty for resistance will be war. Meanwhile—”

  “Agree to what?” Expulsion, executions—the question is out before I can stop it.

  “That is not your concern,” King Gerar replies, in a tone that curtails further questioning. Torres shoots me a warning glance. “Meanwhile, the Fallow Throes is spreading, and the healers are no closer to curing it, nor to understanding why there are some who don’t appear symptomatic at all.” He presses his lips tightly together, perhaps wishing he could deny the words they’ve let through. “I will not be cowed into submission by this boy-king, yet we cannot hope to face the threat beyond our borders if we’re being weakened from within. If this illness is rooted in magic, perhaps therein lies its antidote. There is still one remedy we have not tried, and that is our course now. Your course. Stardust.”

  I just stare. Rendered speechless in the face of his words.

  Stardust?

  If Helos had spoken thus, I would have laughed in his face. As it is, I can’t keep my mask from slipping, and the royals clearly notice. I’ve overstepped my boundaries, I can see that, but I can’t do what they’re asking. Not this.

  “Your Majesty—”

  “I am not asking for your opinion,” he says, holding up a hand. “The records speak of its healing powers clearly enough. What I need—what my people need—is action, and you must be quick. No one outside of this room is to know; if Eradain learns we are seeking stardust, they will take that as a refusal before the deadline even comes. You will leave tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. A single sunrise until I’m to leave for the place I never wish to see again.

  I notice he doesn’t frame it as a question.

  Even in my worst nightmares, I never would have predicted this. The healing power of stardust is a story as old as Alemara’s creation itself—and feels as distant.

  Long ago, magic was woven into the earth’s core. Magic that grew over the centuries, expanding and pressing against all sides beneath the surface, creating a series of increasingly violent earthquakes. People believed the rumbling earth to be a great, slumbering beast stirring underground, but they soon learned they were mistaken. When the energy became too immense to be contained, the magic shattered in an explosion so great it cracked the land into several smaller continents—the Day of Rupturing, nearly eight hundred years ago, when cities and homes and families were ripped apart. And as the land splintered, so did the magic; hundreds of thousands of fragments, bursting forth and taking root in whatever they could find.

  Some remained in the earth—the soil, the flowers, the mountains, the trees. Others embedded themselves in the bodies of some of the land’s inhabitants. Over time, those with magic in their blood evolved to have abilities as unpredictable as the magic. Humans learned to hear the hearts of trees and nurture floral growth, to influence the land, to speak with animals, to shift—magical communities of forest walkers, giants, whisperers, and shifters. Animals grew stranger, bolder—mountain lions with hypnotic eyes, foxes with wings, bighorn sheep that fed on bone. Bats with toxic venom and wolves with the power of camouflage. The land changed as well; terrain shifted with no notice, hills sprang up, caves collapsed within moments. Trees grew taller and wider, ensnaring creatures in their branches, cradling others in beds of leaves. And the most powerful strands of magic stretched all the way to the sky—to the stars.

  Yes, stardust has the power to heal anyone or anything, even on the brink of death. King Gerar knows the lore as well as I do—it’s common knowledge among the educated circles, and I have passed many lonely hours studying scholars’ texts in the Queen’s Library. But the hoard is closely guarded, hidden deep within the Vale—the wilderness to the west. And there is no way to get to it without bartering with—

  “The giants. You would have me negotiate with them?” My voice quivers on the words. The ancient, magical people who gifted loropins to the three realms before isolating themselves at the continent’s edge. Human, once, with magic that gave them a slight measure of influence over the land, just enough to send small patches into slumber or alter it according to their will, before that magic made them huge, and frightening, and different in many people’s eyes.

  To my dismay, King Gerar nods. “They have occupied the Western Vale for longer than any of us have been alive, and you are the only one here who knows how to navigate that terrain. My guards can barely navigate the Old Forest.” He pauses. “You have already shown me that you can be discreet, and the road seems clear enough. They won’t be hard to find.”

  The idea of any road marking the Vale is laughable. Because the terrain often changes without warning, many of the landmarks Helos and I may have used have likely altered or vanished by now. Surviving there on our own for so many years nearly cost us our lives. With no elders left to guide us, we had no one to teach us which plants carried poison. No strength in numbers against predators we were never trained to avoid. It was years of trial and error, injuries and sickness. A place of dark memories and abandonment. Hunger and hunters and death.

  “My brother and I always avoided the circle of land bordering the giants’ domain,” I respond carefully, my mind searching desperately for a way out. “It’s the most volatile part of the Vale.”

  “Volatile—how?”

  I turn to Weslyn, surprised. He’s always studiously avoided the paths I tread, and I’m not sure why that should change now. In fact, I’m not sure why he’s here at all.

  “The land there, it’s—it’s where the magic is strongest,” I explain, struggling to find the words under four pairs of watchful eyes. Weslyn’s expression darkens.

  “But it is possible to cut across it,” King Gerar persists. “Is it not?”

  Deadly rockslides. Poisonous vines. The images flood my mind.

  “I—”

  Finley’s body buried deep in the ground.

  “I imagine it’s possible,” I concede at last. “But I told you—that stretch of land is the most dangerous in Alemara. What if bringing stardust here causes a similar effect? How would Eradain react then, or your own people?” My voice chokes on the last words, and I draw a steadying breath. Old injuries are ghosting my limbs. “Awakened land is unpredictable. The Old Forest may flourish with new life, or it may just as easily turn lethal. Meadows may stretch into hills, or a crack could split the ground beneath a house in two. Plants could become so poisonous as to kill you with their odor alone.” I look him in the eye, willing him to understand. “That kind of uncertainty, a life of never knowing what new reality you might wake up to … you don’t know what that’s like.”

  “You forget that there are benefits to reviving magic in the land,” says King Gerar. “The soil would grow more fertile, food more plentiful. We might discover new plants that remedy illnesses we cannot normally treat.” He raises an eyebrow, and my face heats. “In any case, we may find out what it’s like soon enough, with or without the stardust. Magic seems to be driving the Fallow Throes; it is only a matter of time before it makes its presence known elsewhere.” He turns his gaze about the room. “Why is magic awakening east of the river now, when it has lain dormant for so long? What else might it be reviving each night, while we lie here, unaware, asleep in our beds? Magic has not appeared in ordinary humans for centuries, so there must be a reason why it’s doing so now. It does not simply materialize out of nothing; these strands must have a source.”

  Violet makes a noise of distaste.

  “That’s another reason why I need you to go, Rora. If the heart of magic is rooted in the Vale, perhaps traveling there is the only way to find the cause of this resurgence. If something else is going on, we need to be prep
ared.”

  “But for all we know, bringing stardust here could make Telyan as erratic as the land outside the giants’ domain!” I exclaim, shooting to my feet. King Gerar’s reminder of the benefits is still ringing in my ears, but all I can see is the terrain of my past, which I made certain to leave behind for good. “Wouldn’t that simply hasten Telyan’s fall, to be forced to contend with an ever-changing landscape in addition to everything else?”

  The tension crackling through the room is a near-tangible thing. Torres visibly shifts her weight closer to where I’m standing, lips pursed as if my continued resistance is making her job more difficult. No doubt I have spoken out of turn, but they must understand. They must.

  “Without an antidote, the Throes will spread,” King Gerar says, almost distantly. “Who knows how many lives it will claim? How far it will reach?” He runs a hand along the map. “We do not know for certain if the stardust’s presence alone would be enough to awaken the land—that is purely speculation, nothing more. What we do know is that it is the only chance my people have at survival. What does predictable land matter if my people are not here to experience it?” Suddenly he straightens, his gaze hardening. “I will not see my kingdom fall to it without a fight, and in any case, we have no choice. In the wake of Eradain’s pronouncement, Telyan must strengthen itself in the weeks to come. That includes eradicating this illness before it runs rampant. The hazard you speak of is a risk we’ll have to take.”

  I still can’t help but feel he might only be trading one threat for another, if my theory about the stardust proves correct. But he’s right: if war truly is to come to Telyan, the kingdom can’t hope to face it with its soldiers being picked off one by one.

  “I have full confidence in your abilities, Rora,” he continues, watching me carefully. “And we will make it well worth your while. Four hundred gold pieces.”

  Images of the Vale are scalding my insides, but his words are nearly enough to douse the flames. Four hundred gold pieces.

  It’s eighty times what I make on a regular job. That kind of coin would buy Helos a new home, a proper one. It would feed us for a year. Or it would enable us to set up somewhere new without squatting, if we do ever decide to leave Roanin. That kind of money would make us rich—if war or reawakened magic don’t wreck the land first.

  Four hundred gold pieces.

  “What will you offer the giants in exchange for the stardust?” I ask, unable to deny that payment would have its advantages.

  “Seeds from the eldest strand of trees in the Old Forest. Weslyn will secure them for you.”

  Weslyn? “Your Majesty?”

  “My son will be accompanying you on your journey.”

  No. Not him.

  My gaze cuts to Weslyn. He hasn’t spoken since our brief exchange, but for once, I can guess his feelings easily enough; he hasn’t yet mastered his sister’s art of keeping her eyes fully devoid of sentiment. He faces me now, arms crossed, chin raised. Daring me to object. Astra has lain her head across his shoes, like she knows.

  Please, I nearly beg. Anyone but him.

  “I can manage better on my own,” I protest. And it’s true. Weslyn’s of a different cut—military bound, an officer-in-training meant to leave for Fendolyn’s Keep, the garrison in the south of Telyan, in less than a year. A city-born prince who won’t even enter the woods bordering his home. Surely he knows nothing of traversing wilderness.

  But King Gerar is shaking his head. “Minister Mereth controls the only river crossing there is, and she has kept it inoperable for many years now. She will not reopen it for the sake of a civilian.” He rubs his bearded chin. “Weslyn is trained to handle this type of negotiation. He’ll persuade her to give you both passage.”

  Minister Mereth. I’m familiar with the name, and her city on the river—it’s where Helos and I first crossed into human territory, though we had not been able to secure passage on any ferry. Boats departed from the eastern shore, not the west. Glenweil is all that stands between Eradain and Telyan, the middle ground that stops the stain of Eradain from seeping into King Gerar’s domain. But I have no love lost for that land, or wish to return. She already sent us away when she thought we might have anything to do with the Prediction; for all I know, she may have grown more fond of her northern neighbor’s policies in recent years.

  And if I give us away again?

  “I could—”

  “This is not open to discussion. Weslyn will go.”

  —shift to look like him, I finish my objection in my head. The minister would never know the difference. Though I suppose I would not be able to match the knowledge inside his head, however well I could his features.

  It’s clear it wouldn’t matter, even if I could impersonate a royal in both body and mind. The rigid stances permit no argument. They’re determined that he should come.

  I fight back the only way I dare.

  “My brother will come, too,” I say. Weslyn opens his mouth, but I shake my head. “You won’t be able to keep him away. You know this, sir,” I add, addressing King Gerar directly.

  It’s true; Helos needs some way to help Finley, even if it means leaving his job. But it’s bold, maybe too bold. King Gerar holds my gaze, no doubt considering three hastily scribbled words.

  “Two of them?” Weslyn practically spits. “No.”

  “You believe that nonsense?”

  Violet’s measured challenge surprises me.

  “Of course not.” His eyes gleam a little too defiantly for that to be the truth. “But one is enough.”

  No one contradicts him this time, and my heart begins to pound. My control is slipping. I need leverage.

  One is enough. I will never be more than “the shifter” to him. To any of them, except Finley and perhaps King Gerar, or friends like Seraline who don’t even know my real name. And maybe that’s the way it ought to be. Maybe that’s all I am—a cobbled-together collection of features. The eyes, the nose, the fingers, the skin—all of it changeable. None of it enough to earn their loyalty any more than it earned my mother’s love.

  No.

  “You need me.” He scoffs at my words, but I know they’re true, and that fuels my anger further. Besides, at the thought of my brother, a new idea has occurred to me. “You’re asking me to risk my life traveling to the edge of the continent, to barter with giants and find out why magic is resurfacing. You may insist on coming, but you cannot do it alone.” Torres fists the hilt of her sword, but for once I don’t care if I’ve gone too far. They need me, they need me, and the knowledge has set me free.

  “That’s—”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll go.” I’m speaking only to King Gerar now. “But this is my condition. Helos comes.”

  He’ll come, and how proud he’ll be to see me. A journey back into the wild. Setting aside my own safety, facing my nightmares for the chance to save others.

  He’ll see how selfless I can be. Violet will see how useful. And if we can retrieve the stardust and save the afflicted, really save them, maybe the court will see how wrong they are about the two of us. Maybe things can change.

  The Vale flashes before my eyes, and hope is tainted by fear.

  “Agreed,” says King Gerar, before his son can object, or I can change my mind. “Thank you, Rora. We will meet by the north entrance at dawn.”

  I dip my head and look again to my travel companion. His glare is fire.

  The road will be long, and it won’t be the miles that make it so.

  FOUR

  As soon as I tell Helos the news, he marches straight into the Old Forest and shifts to elk to sharpen his antlers against an enormous elm. A way to prepare, he tells me, but there must be more to it. Dogging his steps, I sink into a patch of grass nearby, falling quickly into a much-needed nap. By the time I wake, the sun already perches high in the sky, and Helos has sharpened each tip of horn into a deadly point.

  It’s wrong. So wrong. Helos is the good one. Helos is hope. And here he is, transformin
g himself into a weapon.

  I can’t stand it.

  “Pass me that boot, won’t you?” he asks, after shifting back to human and dressing.

  He swerves to avoid the boot soaring toward him.

  “Rora.” Spoken like an offering.

  “Helos.” Spoken like an accusation.

  He brushes a few strands of hair from his face and grabs the shoe, his movements bafflingly relaxed compared to an hour ago. “It’s a good idea. Stardust can save him. All of them.”

  “But we’d be bringing it here,” I counter, pushing to my feet and crossing my arms. Just because I agreed doesn’t mean I have to like it. “This is the safest place we’ve ever lived. What if it becomes no better than the one we escaped? Because of us?” The mere suggestion of replicating the Vale east of the river sends forbidden tears to the corners of my eyes. I blink them away rapidly.

  He has to see my fears are well-founded. There’s only so much magic a living creature can host, but a star? Its capacity is greater than any being’s on the earth, a burning expanse filled with the most staggering power there is. It’s old magic, strong magic, more potent than any fragments found in nature or animals. We’ve seen what the Vale is like where stardust is present, and that was only on the outskirts.

  Helos bends to tie his laces. “We either take that risk, or let Finley die. Which are you willing to endure?”

  I don’t have to ask what his answer would be. He would endanger his life for the sake of Finley’s without question. Placing others above himself, as always.

  Selflessness requires sacrifice. The meaning is clear, and I do my best to absorb the words and prioritize them above my mounting concerns. No more selfish decisions.

  Once I accepted the assignment this morning, King Gerar had beckoned me over to the map, where Violet walked me through the route we’re meant to take. First, to Grovewood, a town two days’ walk from Roanin, to collect the Old Forest seeds that Weslyn will attempt to exchange for stardust; if the records are to be believed, anyone bartering with the giants must offer an item emblematic of the traveler’s home, one they can use and do not already have. From there, we’ll follow the roads northeast, cross Telyan’s border, and trek west through Glenweil until we reach Niav, the city on the shore. Weslyn will secure passage for us on Minister Mereth’s ferry across the river, and then we’ll enter the Vale.