by Matthew Lang
Chapter 14
ADAM DIDN’T see the stronghold of Boolikstaad until they were virtually at its gates. As they worked their way deeper and deeper into the forest, Adam found the trees getting larger and more gnarled with each passing minute. Eventually they came across a dense mass of trunks and branches, each trunk easily as large as a small house and trailing strands of tree mosses reaching down to brush against his face.
Duin reined his riding lizard in. “We’re here,” he said.
“We are?” Adam asked.
Esmeralda laughed suddenly. “Of course. Ingenious really.”
“What?”
Esmeralda pointed upward.
“What?” Adam said again. “There’s just a lot of branches up there.”
“Yes,” Esmeralda said. “And they don’t all have the same leaves.”
Duin led them around the trunk of the nearest tree, then along bulbous barky protrusions that would have acted like an irregular but serviceable staircase for someone on foot. As they passed what Adam later thought of as “first floor” and continued into the foliage, he gasped as the vista opened before him.
The great branches of the trees had been shaped and guided into their current forms with ropes—some of which were still guiding smaller branches to interweave. It looked much like a collection of interlocking giant bonsais. The great pines formed a superstructure, but in their nooks and crannies, other plants grew, and smaller branches rose to be woven into protective walls of living greenery that both hid the haerunwoln from below and cascaded down from the heights in a dense curtain that surely would hide them from above as well. The air inside this cultivated canopy was clean and fresh, and a light breeze blew through the treetops, although quite how that had been engineered, Adam never found out. Houses had been made in empty hollows or built on platforms secured among the branches, and the green Aergonite glows lit the faces of hardworking men and women, all with only a trace of the thylacine features Adam would have expected in full torchlight.
It felt odd pushing past the people going about their day-to-day—or sleep-to-sleep—lives, and the hush that followed in their wake was odder still. Crossing numerous trees, Adam was aware that they were now in the center of the old pine grove, winding their way up the largest and tallest tree. They passed small family dwellings, treetop gardens planted with edibles, and carved benches for sitting. He saw fletchers creating arrows from wood, flint, and flitterfish fins or lovingly securing slasherclaw feathers to a precious steel-tipped projectile, and men and women he presumed were hunters riding up the trees with giant spiders, beetles, and lizards strung between them. All paused and stared as they passed.
They stopped sooner than Adam thought they would, some distance before the branches would have become too flimsy to build upon, and by now a good hundred people were following them, keeping a slow, respectful distance and sprouting fur as the sunlight played upon their features. In the green light ahead, Adam saw a small, simple dwelling in the trunk of the tree. Unlike some of the others, which had doors, carved window shutters, and were surrounded by ornate railings, this one looked like the hollow of a tree, and had it not been for the light inside spilling out of the crack that, to all intents and purposes, served as a door, he wouldn’t even have noticed it. Stepping through the door was an elderly woman, her long white hair caught in a single braid and her feet still nimble as she descended gracefully down some ornate stairs to the large open platform they found themselves on. Her robe was of fine silvery silk and her bearing regal. Advancing toward them, she held her hands out in ritual welcome.
“Duin, Child of Selune, we welcome you back to the arms of the all-mother.”
Duin stretched his arms out toward the woman and inclined his head. “Jirsca, Mother of Boolikstaad, blessed are we to stand in her light. I bring before you Princess Esmeralda of Aergon and Sir Adam of Australia.”
Jirsca raised her arms toward each of them in turn. “Your Highness, Sir Adam, welcome to Boolikstaad, the refuge of the Children of Selune. Be welcome in her light. The circle of elders will hear you when you have rested.”
Without waiting for thanks or acknowledgment, the old woman turned and climbed back up the stairs to her small cottage, and a younger woman stepped forth toward them, her nervousness only betrayed by a slight tremor in her voice.
“Your Highness, Sir Adam, I am Martinia. If you would please follow me, we have rooms prepared for you. Your mounts will be cared for.”
“Wait, what about Duin?” The words were out of his mouth before he could filter them diplomatically.
“Duin has his own quarters. He will be able to visit later if he so chooses.”
“Could he come with us?” Adam asked. “I’d feel more comfortable if he did.”
“Sir Adam, Duin has been away for many sleeps. I’m sure he’d like to ensure his home is as he left it.”
Adam decided to go for broke. “Only if he doesn’t mind, but… Duin, please?”
Adam could feel heads turning, and murmuring started among the crowd before hushing down to near silence. Duin, his cheeks flaming, glanced nervously at Martinia’s carefully expressionless face before locking eyes with Adam. “Of course, Sir Adam,” he said formally. “I would be happy to see to your needs.”
Adam opened his mouth to protest that wasn’t what he meant but then thought better of it. He caught a flash of disapproval on Martinia’s face before she got control of her features, and as he dismounted to follow their host into the inside of the great tree itself, he made a note to ask whether that was linked to Duin’s sexuality.
THE BEDCHAMBER Adam was shown to was small but comfortable, with curved walls of living wood. The headboard was curved to match, and indeed, every piece of furniture tended toward a rounded shape, although there was no fireplace or bath. Wordlessly, Duin ensconced himself in the small servant’s bedroom that adjoined Adam’s room, and Martinia advised that their belongings would soon be delivered.
“Although what they will make of your bang powder I have no idea,” Duin said softly after the door closed.
Adam laughed. “Neither do I. Did I just get you into a lot of trouble?”
“Not really,” Duin said. “You have just given me some status here—for as long as you are here at least.”
“Is that why they wouldn’t let you stay up here with us?”
Duin glanced pointedly at the open window and tugged at his ear before answering. “Not exactly. Staying here is not my… place in society.”
“Well, I think—”
Duin put a finger on Adam’s lips. “I know.”
In a sudden onslaught of impishness, Adam grabbed Duin and hugged him tight around the waist, marveling still at the man’s smooth alabaster skin. “Fur, the ultimate sunscreen,” he murmured.
“What?”
Adam shook his head. “Never mind. Didn’t you mention something about hot springs nearby?”
Duin smiled and walked into the small servant’s room, then returned with two towels and some simple silk robes. “Yes, I did. We should change into these, though—leave your clothes. I think everything we’ve been wearing could use a clean.”
In this fae-like place, Adam was half expecting elaborate embroidery, as might have featured in a Lord of the Rings movie, but although everything from the clothing to furniture was incredibly well-made, there were none of the embellishments he would have expected. A quick glance around as Duin led him back down the stairs confirmed that this was true of the entire city. Durable and serviceable, but not ornate or ostentatious. Either the haerunwoln valued natural forms or they were too busy trying to survive to create works of art.
“How have you kept this place secret from the dragon?” Adam asked.
“By being very careful who we let in,” Duin said. “And… listen, can you hear it?”
Adam paused and listened as the sounds of the city filtered in… as well as a harmonic chanting that looped around and around, repeating over itself as if the singers wer
e indeed singing in the round. “The singing?” he asked.
“It is a prayer that protects us and this place from mind magic and turns the dragon’s mind from us should she get too close.”
“And when you venture out? Who protects you then?”
“Selune,” Duin said with a smile. “We are… resistant to that sort of magic, and so far we have not been too unlucky.”
“I thought she cursed you.”
“That is the thought of the Aergonites. We here in Boolikstaad learn to see our condition for the blessing it is. How can we not when it protects us so?”
Adam smiled somewhat wistfully. “It must be nice to have that sort of faith.”
“Who do you pray to?” Duin asked.
“I don’t, generally,” Adam said. “The universe, I guess.”
“You do not fear the wrath of the gods?”
“I have enough to deal with the wrath of man,” Adam said. “I’m not sure about the gods or whether they exist in my world as people believe they do here.”
“People believe they do?”
“Well, to be fair, I haven’t personally met one yet.”
“Neither have I, but I think the mark of Selune is fairly obvious, don’t you?” Duin asked.
“I would accept that you have a physical condition that causes you to morph bodily between two forms,” Adam said slowly. “I would also accept that it is known as the mark of Selune. I currently have no evidence that the physical condition is caused by divine action, and therefore cannot rationally accept it as proof of the existence of a goddess.” He grinned at the startled look on Duin’s face. “Sorry, you’re talking to a scientist over here. We’re trained to be highly skeptical of everything from a young age.”
“So I see,” Duin said dryly as they walked along a wide branchway, passing a group of women carrying baskets of freshly picked yellow fruit and cooked shrimp, trailed by youngsters carrying baskets nearly as large as themselves.
“Large family,” Adam commented.
“We care for the young collectively,” Duin said. “Given that we have many orphans even without the children we rescue from Aergon, we have to.”
“So childcare involves manual labor?”
“How else will they learn?” Duin asked. “Is it that different where you come from?”
“Actually, yeah, it is,” Adam said. “Don’t know if it’s better back home, though. I didn’t learn to cook until a few years ago. Wait, how do you cook here?” Adam asked. “I can’t imagine a lot of fire being used.”
“Almost none,” Duin agreed. “We can’t afford the risks of a forest fire or discovery, so we use the hot springs to cook food or preserve it where possible.”
“I’m just looking forward to being properly clean for the first time in days,” Adam said. “Not to mention safe.”
Duin looked around the tree city, its unwavering green phosphorescent lights playing across his face as they walked. “I still look around and wonder what would happen if Khalivibra does find us here. How long do you think it would take her to reduce this place to ash and dust?”
“I don’t know. A few hours?”
Duin snorted suddenly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin.
“What?” Adam asked.
“Has Esmeralda worked out the magic behind your ‘watch’ yet?” he asked as they descended another staircase of roughly shaped roots and into a thicket of younger trees.
“I’ve told you; it’s not magic.”
“As you say,” Duin said blandly, leading the way to a small, secluded pool of steaming water.
“You do all your cooking here?” Adam asked, refusing to rise to Duin’s needling.
“No, there’s larger communal pools on the other side,” Duin said. “These are reserved for guests and elders.”
“Do you get many guests?”
“To be honest? I think you and Esmeralda are the first.”
After slipping out of the robe, Adam was only too happy to sink into the hot water of the pool, letting the heat seep into his muscles. He was even happier when Duin brought over some soft tree bark which, when rubbed against itself in the water, produced a soapy froth that helped wash away most of the dirt and grime of their travels.
“So how many people are watching us right now, do you think?” Adam asked quietly as Duin gently scrubbed at his back.
“Probably a lot,” Duin said, squinting up at the branches overhead. “I’m sure there’s some gaps in the branches people can see through—and definitely hear through.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to get used to that,” Adam said, reaching back beneath the water to stroke Duin’s thigh.
Duin gave Adam a quick hug. “I know.”
Adam sighed and sank down into the water until he was nearly able to float, with his hair fanning out around his head. Before long, matted patches of hair were floating off to the side, and he chuckled ruefully as he gathered them up and dropped them onto the ground.
“That is officially the biggest hairball I’ve ever seen,” Adam said with a wry smile.
“Only because I’m not currently furry.”
“Lucky you. Any chance of getting a haircut? I think I need a haircut and shave,” Adam said, tugging at his scraggly beard. “You look good with fur on your face, but I don’t like it on mine.”
Duin laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Chapter 15
ADAM AND Duin found their packs in the suite when they arrived, although the foodstuffs and cookery gear had been taken somewhere else. Adam was relieved to find his gym bag in the room, along with his personal electronics. Part of him wanted to take a few more pictures of the city, but another part of him worried about the implications if someone other than Duin saw him doing it. Most of their meager clothing supply had been taken away, but Duin helped dress him in a pair of leather trousers and a soft silk shirt dyed in forest green. Duin himself dressed in a similar pair of pants, but his shirt was the undyed cream of raw silk, which to Adam’s mind, only highlighted Duin’s pale skin and angular features.
Their next meal was a feast such as Adam had never seen before, with piles of crab and shrimp and delicately prepared flitterfish cured in lemon juice with a fiery chili pickle that reminded Adam of kimchi. There were steamed nut breads and dumplings and a dark, bitter brew that tasted vaguely of cinnamon sweetened with honey to wash it all down, alongside flagons of light, fruity wine. There were speeches and promises of support from both Esmeralda and Elder Jirsca, a vision of a united New Aergon for both human and haerunwoln alike. And while Adam was surprised that there was no mention of Wyrmbane’s recovery, he kept his peace and concentrated on filling all the nooks and crannies of his belly that had been on survival rations for far too long. It was only when he, Esmeralda, and Duin were summoned to a council with the elders that the significance of his discovery became clear.
They were ushered into a cozy meeting room with carved chairs and a view overlooking an edible garden on the level below, overflowing with purple berries and greenish blue marrows. Three of the eldest haerunwoln joined them—Elder Jirsca, who had greeted them on arrival, Elder Faas, an old stooped man who spoke little, and Elder Thera, the youngest of the three, her hair still being mostly auburn with only touches of white.
“I thought there would have been more of you,” Elder Thera said without preamble after they all sat down.
“We were ambushed by kanak,” Esmeralda said simply, her voice even. “We lost most of our number and were likely betrayed.”
“Likely?” Elder Jirsca asked sharply. “You do not know?”
“Who knows what hold Khalivibra has over the kanak?” Esmeralda asked, spreading her hands.
“They worship her,” Adam put in. “Well, Duin and I saw a totem in the village we… passed through after we were separated at the river,” he said when they all turned to look at him. “Sorry, I thought I’d mentioned that.”
“Well, there you are, then. In any case,
I was about to say we can’t interrogate our necromancer to see if he did betray us because he’s already dead.”
“Necromancer?” Elder Jirsca said, frowning. “I was not aware Magister Nickedem—”
“No, it was Xavier, his pupil,” Esmeralda said. “Although I cannot say for certain that Magister Nickedemus was not beholden to the wyrm.”
“The implications of the treachery are troubling, Your Highness,” Elder Thera said. “Your father’s rule has clearly been compromised, and I question how you can expect us to throw our lot in with your people.”
“Because if we defeat Khalivibra, her hold will be gone from everyone,” Esmeralda said evenly. “I can’t promise it will change the culture of my people, but without making the attempt, I don’t see how life for the Children will ever improve.”
“Have you not seen our city, Your Highness?” Thera asked. “Our life is hard, but we thrive in spite of your people’s attitudes. What do we gain by helping you reclaim your ancestral losses?”
Esmeralda’s jaw was hanging open, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she stumbled over an answer.
“I… you….”
“I didn’t think so,” Thera said pointedly, sitting back in her chair.
“Clearly not,” a voice said, and Adam realized it was his own. “You have a wonderful city here in the trees—and of course, provided Khalivibra doesn’t find it, it will continue to be a wonderful city regardless of what you decide.”
“That sounded like a threat, Sir Adam,” Thera said, her eyes narrowing.
“It wasn’t,” Adam said evenly. “It’s a statement of fact. You’re doing fine now, but if your population grows—and it is growing—you’ll need more food. You’ll need to farm or forage more or hunt more widely. And you can’t protect everyone all the time. Eventually someone will get seen. Eventually someone will be tracked. Eventually Khalivibra will come, and your city of wood will burn like… well, a city of wood.” He looked around the table at everyone’s startled expressions.
“Of course,” he continued, “you might not need to worry about this. It could be generations before that happens. You’ll probably have died of natural causes. Of course, haerunwoln youth will still be exiled from the Aergon caverns in the meantime, and many of them won’t make it safely here. Many will die on the way, and you won’t be able to find a good portion of them. Some will probably take their own lives in despair rather than face a horrible death on the surface… but that’s not a reason to help the Aergonites leave the caverns either. I mean, it’s not like you need to help anyone if you don’t want to—”
