Would they ever cease to compare everything on the Surface to what they had known below ground? It must be natural to find comfort in what was familiar. And this was their first experience of night-time, after all. Oddly, she felt more at ease now than she had felt in the daytime. The bright sun had hurt her eyes and the whole dramatic events of the day had been overwhelming.
But now she felt at peace, tired and ready for sleep, but wanting to spend just a few more moments enjoying the view before she returned the small distance to the makeshift camp they had created beneath the new tree.
Thinking of the Arbor brought tears to her eyes as she thought about the fact that Geve would never get a chance to stand beneath its branches. She felt a huge sense of loss at his death and the knowledge that she would never again see his bright smile. She couldn’t help feel a swathe of guilt too because he had loved her, and she had never been able to return his love in the way he had wanted. And he had known that – she had seen that resignation on his face when he had surrendered to the Arbor and given up his life. He had accepted his fate because he had known that even though she had promised herself to him, she had not felt in her heart the same way he had felt about her.
The grief washed over her, and she closed her eyes. The night air brushed across her lids, cooling her skin. By her feet, the new stream tinkled away merrily, sounding strangely like singing. No, in fact it was someone singing, she could hear them.
Sarra held her breath as she listened. She had heard the same melody at the moment that the Apex had broken and the connection with the past had severed – they had all heard it, and had been certain it was the Arbor itself breaking into song. Now, she could hear lots of voices joined in harmony. Gradually, one grew louder than the rest. She recognised the voice, had listened to him sing to her many times in the common rooms. It was Geve.
A tear ran down her cheek, but it was a tear of joy, not sorrow. He was letting her know that he was all right. Though his physical form had perished, his soul had gone on to live within the Arbor, and at that moment she knew she would carry a little piece of him forever in her heart.
A hand touched her shoulder, and the singing voices grew quieter until the only sound was the bubbling stream.
She turned to look up at the person and saw it was Comminor, and he held her baby in his arms, wrapped tightly in a blanket.
“He is hungry,” Comminor said with a smile.
She smiled back, took the baby and put him to the breast. He suckled hungrily, and she stroked his thatch of dark hair, thinking of the way it would grow into brown curls like Rauf’s. The man who had led her out of the darkness and into the light had looked healthy, affluent and happy, and it gave her hope that the future was going to be bright.
Comminor lowered himself down next to her, sitting close, his arm brushing hers. They sat contentedly and listened to the bubbling brook, bathed in the silver moonlight.
“I never knew the Light Moon would be so beautiful,” he said, looking up at it.
“It is all beautiful,” she said, glancing up from the baby’s face to see the small plants and flowers growing at the water’s edge, at the trees that were now waist-high in the fields. Their growth was slowing, but they could still see leaves unfurling, almost joyful in the cool light.
She lifted her head to look at him. “What will we do about all the people still in the Embers? We cannot leave them there.”
“Of course not. I do not know how, yet. But we will find a way to get a message to them. Every single one of them deserves to see the sun.”
Sarra opened her mouth to reply, but beneath her the boulder shifted and she stood, startled, the babe in her arms still sucking at her breast. “What was that?”
Comminor stood too and turned to look at the rock. A crack had appeared in the top, and as he pushed down on the front half, it gave way and broke into pieces, falling into the river. His eyes widened with surprise. “Look!”
Sarra walked forward and bent down. The middle of the rock was hollow, and it formed the distinct shape of a dog, lying curled up.
They stared at it in wonder. “Do you think this was once a real dog?” Sarra whispered. “From the past?”
“Who knows?” Comminor dropped to his haunches and brushed his fingers on the inside of the rock, following the shape. “Perhaps he guarded the old Arbor. He might have been here at the end.”
They studied it for a few moments, and then Comminor pushed himself to his feet. They turned to look at the new tree.
It arched up into the night sky, way above their heads, its branches stretching across the grassy slope, its thousands of glossy leaves shimmering.
Beneath it, Nele, Josse, Viel, Paronel, Amabil and Betune sat curled up around the sunstones, which still held a remnant of their fiery glow.
“I am sorry about Geve,” Comminor said, surprising her.
She dropped her gaze back to the baby and stroked his cheek. “I will miss him. But his sacrifice will enable us all to live again.”
She took a deep breath and looked back at the man beside her, whose grey hair seemed to reflect the silvery moonlight above them. “I did not love him, you know.”
Comminor went still, and then he looked down at her.
“I mean, I did love him, but not in the way…” She swallowed. “Not in the way I love you.”
His eyes searched her face. Hope blossomed within them like the flowers that bloomed by the water’s edge. And he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.
The Arbor rustled, and Comminor lifted his head and laughed. Sarra smiled, hoping that Geve could be happy for them. One day she would join him in the tree’s embrace. Until then, she would give Comminor her heart.
Life leads to death, and from death springs life…
Cinereo watched Comminor bring Sarra beneath the branches and settle around the sunstones, the baby safe and secure in her arms. A thousand different emotions moved through him, but the greatest of all was joy.
The world was at peace, and the element of earth was in the ascendant.
For now.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to acknowledge those people who matter most to me.
My parents – my lovely mum, Jan, who first interested me in historical fiction and who can still remember that story I wrote about King Arthur; and my dad, Barry, who reads all my books, and who got me hooked on sci-fi and fantasy. Thank you for following me to the other side of the world – I love you both.
My parents-in-law – Ann, who made me feel so welcome from the first time we spoke on the phone and who is still so encouraging; and John, a real old-fashioned gentleman whose love for science and inventions gives me so many ideas. I love you and your chickens.
Mark and Jo, Lucy and Ben – our best friends. We’ve known you for so long and we’ve had such fun together. Long may it continue.
This book is for all of you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Freya is a lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy, as well as a dedicated gamer. She has a deep and abiding fascination for the history and archaeology of the middle ages and spent many hours as a teenager writing out notecards detailing the battles of the Wars of the Roses, or moping around museums looking at ancient skeletons, bits of rusted iron and broken pots. She also has an impressive track record, having published over twenty romance novels under her pseudonym, Serenity Woods.
She lives in the glorious country of New Zealand Aotearoa, where the countryside was made to inspire fantasy writers and filmmakers, and where they brew the best coffee in the world.
freyarobertson.com
twitter.com/EpicFreya
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Copyright © Freya Robertson 2014
Freya Robertson asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available
from the British Library.
UK ISBN 978 0 85766 388 7
US ISBN 978 0 85766 389 4
Ebook ISBN 978 0 85766 390 0
Set by Argh! Oxford.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or
otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by
way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or
otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in
any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is
published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and
incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or
localities is entirely coincidental.
Sunstone Page 48
