Sunstone

by Freya Robertson

  With no other option, and not wanting to wander aimlessly through the countryside on the off chance of picking her up, he exited the woods and headed for Esberg, two days’ ride from Vichton.

  The town was busy, filled with traffic passing through the countryside from west to east and also from the lands in southern Laxony up to the Wall, taking cartloads of wheat, oats and barley, plain and dyed cloth, and armour from the expert Laxonian blacksmiths to exchange for Wulfian beef, pork and fish, the superior crockery from the kilns on the clay lands to the east, and the jewellery and fine silverwork from Hanaire.

  Julen passed unnoticed through the streets, blending in with his surroundings with his natural ability to camouflage himself wherever he went. He had never been able to describe how he did what he did to anyone, including his father, who had been the only one on whom it had not worked.

  Julen’s nurse had come looking for him to tell him it was time for dinner. He was only seven, and, playing by the river and enjoying his game, he had watched with amusement as she hunted up and down the riverbank, yelling his name, unable to see him even though he sat in plain sight, his back against a tree trunk. She had gone back to the castle and returned with his father, and Chonrad had walked along the riverbank with her as she called Julen’s name, stopping a few yards down as it became clear she could not find him.

  “Perhaps you would return to the castle and see whether he has come home,” Chonrad had said. “I will have one more look.”

  The nurse had returned, grumbling, and when she had vanished, Chonrad had turned and looked straight at his son.

  “Hmm,” Chonrad said, hands on hips.

  Julen had stared back, shocked to find that his special trick hadn’t worked on his father.

  “That is a very useful skill you have there,” Chonrad said. “How do you do it?”

  Julen had just shrugged, because he had no idea. “I just think of myself as part of whatever I am touching and suddenly nobody can see me.”

  A frown had flitted across Chonrad’s brow. “Does it work against stone?”

  “No. Only trees and grass, and sometimes water,” Julen had replied, and it was true that his camouflaging ability was most successful when used with natural objects. To his surprise, his father had hugged him rather than scolded him for being late for dinner, but no more was said about his special ability, not even – Julen realised – to his mother.

  As time had passed, he had been able to adapt his ability for most other substances, and now he found that wherever he was, be it city or countryside, he was able to blend himself into his surroundings and remain invisible to most eyes.

  He still didn’t know why his father had been able to see him that day. He guessed it was something to do with Chonrad’s unique connection to the Arbor, and that his own skill was also somehow connected to the great tree.

  Now, as he rode through the streets of Esberg, he drew the city’s anonymity around him like a blanket and used the shadows to blend in with the townsfolk. The bustling shopkeepers and tradespeople paid him hardly any heed. He reached the Silver Boar Inn without any hassle, left his horse with the stablehand to be rubbed down and fed, and entered the inn.

  As he had been riding for several hours and was hungry, he ordered himself a meal of bread, cheese and sausages and a tankard of ale to wash it down with from the innkeeper.

  “How are things in Esberg these days?” he asked the innkeeper as he poured the ale.

  “So-so,” the innkeeper said. “Usual. Busy on market days like today. A bit hair-raising earlier in the week with the fires and all.”

  Julen’s heart thumped in response, but he kept his pose casual. “Fires?”

  The innkeeper passed him his tankard and then dried a couple of cleaned ones with a cloth. “Aye, strange it was. Flared up out of nowhere, as if a mighty dragon had flown overhead and breathed life into roofs and trees from the west gate to the east. Half a dozen there were, and nobody could say whence they started and who was to blame. Took us half a day to put them all out. Did some damage, I can tell you.”

  “I can imagine.” Julen took a mouthful of his ale, but had to force himself to swallow. Was it the same elemental that had passed through Esberg that was hunting Horada? Icicles descended his spine at the thought. Arbor keep her safe, he prayed. He had hoped to protect her himself, but how was he to do that when she was purposely avoiding him?

  He took his meal and ale to the fire and sat there to finish it. The person he was supposed to meet had not yet arrived, so he had a while to himself. Used to making the most of the precious spare hours he had, he pulled his hood over his eyes and promptly dozed off.

  A kick to his feet, forcing them off the table, jerked him awake. He sat up, startled, hand already on the hilt of his sword, only to sag back with relief when he saw the man sitting opposite him. He had greying curly hair and a boyish look to his face, in spite of the fact that he was in his forties. He wore plain leather breeches and a nondescript brown tunic and cloak. Nobody would have guessed that he was the ambassador known as the Peacemaker.

  “Gravis,” Julen said, glancing over at the bar. Only a few patrons were left, showing that the lunchtime rush had passed. Early afternoon, he thought. He must have slept for a few hours. Probably because he hadn’t had much sleep the night before – he had spent most of the night tracking his sister.

  The Peacemaker linked his fingers and studied the younger knight with amusement. “Catching you sleeping, Master Barle? Thank the Arbor the invasion had not begun while you examined the inside of your eyelids!”

  Julen smiled wryly and finished off the inch of ale he had left in his tankard. “I would have woken should the need have arisen.”

  “If you say so.” Gravis looked over his shoulder at the innkeeper and signalled for two tankards. The innkeeper brought them over.

  Julen studied the older man while he drank his second ale. When feeling nostalgic – which wasn’t often – and willing to relate some tales of the old days, his father had spoken much of the twins, Gravis and Gavius, and of the importance they had played in exorcising Anguis of the presence of the Darkwater Lords. Julen knew that Gavius had died at the hand of the Komis king after opening the portal of the Green Man carving in Komis, and that Gravis had opened the portal at the Henge in Dorle and then returned to Heartwood for the Last Stand.

  Once thought the quieter twin, Gravis had shown his true worth after the Arbor destroyed its Temple and the country had to pick itself up and mend the broken alliances that had led to its downfall in the first place. He had displayed a surprising ability for diplomacy, and the man who headed the new Heartwood Council – Dolosus, the one-armed knight whose body had been made whole again by the Arbor – had lost no time in enlisting Gravis’s help as an emissary to the four lands to encourage them to maintain a truce and turn their attention from war to peace.

  And Gravis, in turn, had enlisted Julen shortly after meeting him three years before, when he had accompanied Chonrad on a visit to Heartwood.

  Julen realised shortly after he began working for the Peacemaker that Gravis’s role involved a lot more than merely talking nicely to the leaders of the four countries of Anguis. Gravis had spies in every town, and he worked closely with Nitesco and the University of Ornestan to utilise skills other than those involving the five senses to track down troublemakers and problems, which was one reason why he had asked Julen to join them.

  “What is the news?” Julen said. “The innkeeper told me about the fires here this week.”

  Gravis leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and cupped his tankard. “Yes, we have had more and more reports of similar outbreaks across Anguis. Nowhere seems immune – from northern Hanaire to western Komis, the world burns.”

  “It will be soon then?”

  Gravis nodded. “We think so.”

  Julen hesitated. “I think the Arbor is beginning its call.”

  To his surprise, the Peacemaker just nodded again. “I know.”
/>   “You know about Horada?” Julen asked with a frown.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know already? I only left two days ago!”

  Gravis grinned. “You are not my only spy in Laxony.”

  Julen’s lips twisted wryly. “So I do not need to relay the details then?”

  “I know that your sister took off in the night and you lost her in the woods. And I know your mother and brother have set off for Kettlestan and are probably there by now. I am not sure of the sense of that plan. Hunfrith recently called five other lords to his castle – your family will not be in friendly company.”

  “We are at peace,” Julen reminded him with amusement.

  Gravis rolled his eyes. “You know as well as I that Wulfians do not really understand the meaning of the word. They have always resented the fact that a woman headed the Exercitus, and that she is such a strong woman only jars the more. A couple of the lords, like you, were not even born when the Darkwater invasion happened. They hunger for war – it runs in the blood. There are old scores to settle and debts to pay. They will not be immune to the current problems, and they will plan to make the most of any weaknesses they perceive.”

  He put down the empty tankard and linked his fingers. “We must crush the Incendi invasion before it happens. Nitesco believes Chonrad’s children will play a prominent role in this, and it is imperative that we get you all to Heartwood as soon as possible.”

  “As you so rightly pointed out, I lost Horada,” Julen said. “Not even I can track her when she is camouflaged.”

  Gravis pushed himself to his feet. “I think I have something that can help you there.” He beckoned with his head for Julen to follow him.

  His interest piqued, Julen rose and followed his mentor out of the inn. Gravis led him through the town streets towards the quieter southern district, and Julen realised they were going to the town’s temple.

  Esberg’s oak tree was old, maybe nearly as old as the Arbor, so the records said. Although only a fraction of the size of the great tree, it was still impressive and arched over the walled-off area, scattering fragments of light like scoops of butter across the grass.

  A couple of travellers were paying their respects and Gravis and Julen waited politely until they finished their quiet prayer and left. In spite of the fact that the Arbor had told Chonrad it did not want to be worshipped, it was difficult to erase a lifetime of habit from the common people’s lives. Although many rituals had been eradicated, it would take a lot longer for everyone’s beliefs to follow the same path.

  When they were alone, Gravis led Julen underneath the tree’s branches. Casting a glance around to ensure they were not being watched, Gravis took the cord holding the oak-tree pendant that hung around his neck and lifted it over his head. He held it out to Julen.

  Julen stared at it, not wanting to be rude. “I already have one.” He indicated his own pendant that he had worn since birth, which felt almost as much a part of him as his arms and legs.

  Gravis smiled. “It is no ordinary pendant.” He turned it, and Julen saw it held an orange stone in the middle that sparkled in the sunlight.

  “What is that?”

  “A sunstone.”

  “I have not heard of such a thing.”

  “I am aware of that. Several of them were discovered recently in the bowels of the labyrinth beneath the Arbor – almost as if the tree wanted us to find them. I am interested to see what happens when you hold it.”

  A tingle ran across Julen’s shoulder blades as he held out his hand, and Gravis placed the wooden token with its shining stone on his palm.

  At first nothing happened, and Julen looked up guiltily, wondering if he had spoiled whatever surprise his mentor had planned for him. And then it began.

  A warmth spread across his palm, then up his arm, moving rapidly through his body until he glowed with a pleasant, joyful feeling that made his face break out in a smile. He stared at Gravis in shock, having never had such an emotional reaction to an object before.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Gravis reached out and touched it almost reverently. “It is from the Arbor.”

  Julen blinked. Unlike other trees, the Arbor shed neither leaves nor branches, remaining whole and complete from The Sleep to The Shining. Taking a piece of the live tree was strictly forbidden.

  “How…?” he whispered. “Why?”

  “It is from Cinereo.”

  Julen had heard of Cinereo, the mysterious leader of the Nox Aves, but he had not yet met him. He had once asked Gravis about him, but the Peacemaker had been unusually reluctant to share details.

  Gravis rubbed a finger across the wood. “Cinereo believes that the tree is trying to communicate with us – with Horada, with you, with many others – to stop the Incendi invasion. Because of this, he asked the Arbor for help, and right there in front of him, a branch broke off and fell to the ground. This happened at almost the same time that the sunstones were found.” He touched a second one around his neck. “Nitesco had the wood made into pendants, each set with a sunstone. We are to give them to those who will play a part in the denouement. This is yours, and I have another you are to deliver to Horada. It will guide and protect you.”

  “I would if I could find her,” Julen murmured, his fingers still tingling at the thought that he held a part of the great tree.

  “More of that in a moment. But first… I want you to think of fire. Concentrate on the thought of it burning, and imagine a flame dancing here, on your palm.”

  Julen frowned, but did as he was bid. He thought of a roaring log fire, imagining the heat searing through his veins.

  Then, to his shock, a flame leapt to life on his palm. He yelled and dropped the pendant. The flame disappeared, and Gravis laughed.

  “Do not worry. It will not burn you. The holder of a pendant is immune to fire. But remember that you can use it whenever you need light.”

  Julen’s heart pounded – he had never experienced anything like that before. He picked the pendant up again, surprised that it was untouched, and not hot. “Arbor’s roots.”

  “Indeed. And now for the second part of its magic.” Gravis beckoned him closer, and crouched down to the ground. Julen followed.

  “Hold the pendant and push one end into the earth,” Gravis said.

  Julen did so.

  “Concentrate,” Gravis instructed.

  Julen closed his eyes. He focussed his attention on the spot between his eyebrows, reached out like he did when he camouflaged himself and connected with the grass and the tree before him.

  Immediately he felt the difference. It was as if he had plugged himself into the energy channels that he knew ran beneath the earth: the roots of the Arbor that stretched from one side of Anguis to the other, connecting all four corners of the world.

  Energy zapped through him, hot and fierce, and he gasped as for a brief moment he felt himself torn into tiny pieces, present in every person, every leaf and every stone in Anguis at the same time. A creature loomed before him: a giant bird with outspread wings that spread for miles, formed of flame, huge and menacing. Its eyes danced with hatred and retribution, rendering him rigid with terror.

  “Concentrate on Horada.” Gravis’s voice cut through the sensations, and Julen held onto it and pulled himself free of the fire.

  He thought of his sister, concentrated on her long blonde hair, her beautiful face, her gentle voice. To his amazement, his consciousness travelled along one of the channels, and before he knew it, he could see her. She had her arms wrapped around her body, and he sensed she was camouflaging herself, but for once she was clearly visible to him. She sat outside an inn, and he recognised the carving of a large oak tree on the inn door – she was heading for the hamlet of Franberg, on one of the smaller roads to Heartwood.

  Gravis touched his hand, and he opened his eyes. He was back in Esberg, in front of the old oak tree, the Peacemaker’s face creased with concern.

  “Did you see her?”
Gravis asked.

  Julen nodded. His mouth had gone dry and he desperately needed a drink. “I saw more than my sister,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I think I saw the King of the Incendi.”

  II

  Demitto pushed his way through the trees angrily, unmindful of the branches whipping his face. He could not believe Catena had found him in the middle of the ritual. He had tried so hard to sneak away from the hamlet quietly, waiting until all their party were asleep. He had poked his head into her room and seen her lying quietly, and had assumed he would be safe. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that the vibrations might awaken her.

  And now she had stormed off yelling something about betrayal, and if he wasn’t careful she’d blunder back to the inn and inform the whole party – including Tahir – what was going on.

  He saw her ahead of him, exiting the trees, and increased his pace. As she crossed the road, he sprinted forward and caught her arm. “Catena!”

  She snatched it away and whirled around, eyes blazing. “Let me go, traitor!”

  He caught her again and began to drag her back to the trees, but he had forgotten she was not one of the women of the court, simpering around in a fine dress with nothing on her mind except for which rich man she should target for a husband. Catena was a knight, trained for battle, and as he tugged her arm she whipped out her sword and it came whistling through the air, missing his throat by an inch.

  He bellowed and drew his own sword, and for a brief moment found himself on the back foot, fighting for his life. Part of his mind recognised her skill and rejoiced in it, certain it would be needed within due course, but the other part could only boil with anger and frustration as he widened his stance and met her blow for blow. She was good, but she was no match for a warrior who had seen action in all four countries, who had headed the vanguard in numerous battles, who had mounted sieges, protected kings and killed more men than there were leaves on the nearest tree.