The Starthorn Tree

by Kate Forsyth

  A sisika had seized Durrik’s shirt in his black talons. Just as the bird spread its immense wings to rise again, Thundercloud charged forward, horns lowered. The billy-goat slammed into the side of the bird, knocking it off-balance. Involuntarily the sisika released its grip and Durrik was able to crawl under the thorny branches, his face white under the grime.

  ‘Hurry!’ Pedrin cried.

  Durrik scrambled forward, leaning heavily on his crutch. The back of his coat was torn into rags. They heard the frustrated screech of the sisikas as they soared and plunged about the perimeter of the forest, unable to find a gap in the canopy to allow their great bodies in.

  ‘Find a place to land and follow on foot!’ ordered one of the starkin lords. There was a great whoosh as the sisikas spread their wings and soared back towards the clearing. The boys scrambled forward, protecting their faces from the thorns with their arms.

  Suddenly there was a scream of pain.

  ‘Lady Lisandre—she’s caught!’ Durrik cried.

  Pedrin glanced back and saw the starkin girl was struggling to disentangle great snarls of silvery-fair hair from the thorns. Briony was trying to help her, but Lisandre was caught as surely as a fly in a spider’s web, every movement causing her to sob in pain. He hesitated, then, seeing Durrik turn back, drew his knife and plunged past his friend. Slash, slash, slash, went his knife. Down, down, down fell long tendrils of cornsilk hair. Lisandre fell to her knees, one hand going up to her head.

  ‘My hair!’

  ‘Run, you cabbage-head!’ Pedrin cried.

  Weeping, she obeyed, stumbling forward as fast as she could in her long skirts and throbbing feet. Briony cast one scared glance back then ran beside her, the two boys close behind. They went through the forest in a mad scramble, leaving scraps of torn cloth and skin and broken branches behind them. The ground was slippery and uneven with mossy rocks, fallen logs, ferns great and small, and the thick writhing roots of immensely tall trees that soared hundreds of metres into the sky, their branches intermingling with wisps of mist. It was cool and shadowy under that green canopy, the air so clean it seemed to pierce them to the very marrow of their bones. When they came at last to a panting, skidding halt in the shelter of a great pile of boulders, their breath hurt their lungs.

  All was quiet. Birdsong and trickling water and the whisper of leaves. Their thudding hearts. Their rasping breath. Hiccuping sobs from Lisandre.

  ‘My . . . hair,’ she wept. ‘You imbecilic oaf, you cut my hair!’

  Pedrin was taken aback. ‘But the soldiers would’ve caught you if I hadn’t.’

  ‘A lady of the Ziv must never cut her hair!’ Lisandre cried. She tugged at the short jagged spikes of her hair, distraught. ‘Oh, comets and Stardust, what must I look like?’

  ‘Mighty ugly,’ Pedrin admitted unhappily. ‘It’ll grow back, though.’

  Lisandre held out an imperious hand and Briony dug out an ornate silver mirror from her sack, passing it quickly to her mistress, who examined herself anxiously.

  ‘Fifteen years it took to grow so long,’ Lisandre snapped. ‘It was washed in chamomile water every day and brushed two hundred times morn and even.’

  ‘Jumping Jimjinny, your arms must’ve ached.’

  ‘I did not brush it myself, you fatuous fool.’

  ‘Don’t call me a fool!’ Pedrin scowled. ‘I’m the one that saved you from the soldiers, remember?’

  Lisandre struggled briefly with herself. ‘Well, for that I do thank you,’ she said at last, ungraciously. ‘Though did you have to cut my hair to do so?’

  ‘Yeah, I did,’ Pedrin snapped. ‘’Tis only hair, not worth a-weeping Lullalita’s tears over.’

  Although Lisandre did not recognise the name of the goddess of water and grief and lost causes, Pedrin’s tone stung and she flushed and looked away. Apart from the haughty expression, she did not look much like the proud lady the boys had so admired in the Hall of Mirrors, with her fair hair sticking up like a scarecrow’s and her face all dirty.

  ‘Do you think the soldiers will follow us?’ Durrik whispered, looking about him nervously.

  ‘Of course they will follow us,’ Lisandre snapped. ‘Am I not the second cousin, once removed, of the king himself? And much as Lord Zavion would like me to just disappear, he cannot take the risk that I may find out something about my father’s death. He will not be able to rest easy until he knows I am safely packed off to boarding school, where I can do nothing to help my brother.’ Her voice had risen throughout her speech. At the very end it quavered and broke, and she bit her lip and turned away again to stare off into the forest.

  Briony took her hand and led her down the rocks, saying over her shoulder, ‘Come, we’d best get a-moving again. And this time, try not to leave such a trail. Milady’s right. They’ll be a-following quick behind us.’

  For some time they walked in silence, the goats trotting on either side of Briony who had somehow assumed the lead. She was swift and nimble over the rocks and tree-roots, so that even Pedrin had to scramble to keep up. Dressed all in brown like the trees, she seemed to merge right into the woods, and it was only the flash of Snowflake’s white tail that kept Pedrin on the right track. Behind him, Lisandre struggled on with her long, trailing skirts hampering her every step. Even Durrik had to stop often to wait for her and he found it very hard going with his withered leg and makeshift crutch. Before long he was rubbing his leg every time he paused, his blue eyes shadowed with pain.

  At first Pedrin was so busy expecting trouble he did not much notice where they were. With his slingshot in one hand and a smooth rock in the other, he scanned the forest about them anxiously, expecting a horde of hobhenkies to swoop down upon them any moment. After a while his nervous strain relaxed a little, unable to sustain such intensity for too long. Pedrin was able to think over what had happened and begin to wonder what lay ahead.

  ‘Hold your horses!’ he called to Briony, whose thin brown form was flitting silently ahead of him through the trees. ‘Hadn’t we better think about where we’re a-going? We don’t want to get lost in the Perilous Forest, of all places!’

  Briony looked back at him. ‘I’m a-heading down the river,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you realised.’

  Pedrin dug his bare toe into the deep mulch of leaves. ‘Why the river?’ he said gruffly. ‘And how do you know where it is?’

  ‘The Evenlode was to our south last night, it won’t have moved overnight,’ she answered gently. ‘And I go to the river because milady’s father was found there. She wishes to see the place for herself. I promised I’d lead her there.’

  ‘But why?’

  She looked past him to Lisandre, who limped up behind them, her face pale under all the dirt. ‘The least I can do is try and find out what happened.’ Lisandre’s voice shook. ‘Lord Zavion has not even tried to find out why or how my father and all his men died so strangely. They just put it down to wildkin, or perilous beasts, or even to outlaws, though my father came home with all his jewels and weapons intact. But none of it makes any sense. There were no wounds on the men, and no sign of any battle. It was as if they all just fell asleep and died in their sleep, all but Ziggy, who might as well have died for all the signs of life he shows.’ Now there were tears on her face as well as in her voice. She sat down on a tree-root, wiping her face defiantly.

  ‘But what do you mean to do?’ Durrik asked, his voice soft with sympathy. ‘What do you do here, all by yourself in the Perilous Forest?’

  ‘Lord Zavion was very angry that I had spoilt his experiment,’ Lisandre said. Her voice had steadied. ‘He fears the king will believe the rumours that he was trying to kill Ziggy so he can rule Estelliana. He said I was to be sent off to the Zephyr Academy for Ladies of the Ziv first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I was sent to bed without any supper. I was very upset.’ She coloured delicately. ‘They would not let me see my mother or Ziggy. Lady Donella said I’d disgraced myself and my blood— they locked me in my room
.

  ‘I decided I had to run away but could not see how in the stars it was to be done. My bedchamber is on the sixth floor and there were guards at my door. Then Briony appeared at my window. She had brought me her own dinner, such as it was.’

  ‘It warn’t naught but some old bread and cheese,’ Briony said apologetically. ‘I knew milady would be hungry. She’d eaten naught all day.’

  ‘If her room is on the sixth floor, how did you get to her window?’ Pedrin asked incredulously, knowing how sheer were the walls of the castle.

  ‘I spun a rope,’ Briony answered. ‘I’m a spinner and seamstress at the castle. Or at least I was.’

  ‘When I beheld what Briony had done, I commanded her to spin me a rope long enough to reach the ground,’ Lisandre said. ‘She did not wish to, but in the end I prevailed. We climbed down the rope and went and hid on one of the river barges. In the morning it sailed upriver. They moored at Lake Sennaval, just near the edge of the forest. We waited until it was dark and then we climbed down and tried to make our way surreptitiously into the forest. We were seen escaping the boat, however, and the alarm was called. The soldiers have been pursuing us ever since.’

  ‘We ran and we hid and we ran again, but me poor lady could hardly walk a step for the pain in her feet,’ Briony said in her soft, shy voice. ‘And we were so very hungry! We hadn’t eaten since we left the castle. So when we saw your campfire . . . I came to see who it was and mebbe beg some food. When I saw you, I recognised you and knew you wouldn’t betray us to the soldiers.’

  Pedrin and Durrik were both shaking their heads in disbelief. ‘But why on earth would you run away from the castle? What could you do to wake the count up?’ Although Pedrin did not mean to be rude, his tone was coloured by his contempt for someone who went running through the countryside in three-inch, ruby-studded heels and who had to have their hair brushed for them by someone else.

  Lisandre glared at him. ‘I do not know yet. I thought if I could only find where it all happened, there might be some clue, something to tell me what happened. Twenty men could not be easily felled without leaving some sign . . . and if I can find no clue, well then, Briony tells me there is a witch who dwells here within the Perilous Forest who has a pool where one can perceive what is hidden or unknown. If I must, I will go to this witch and command her to look within this pool and see the truth of what befell my father.’

  Her cheek was now white where before it had been suffused with red, but she spoke steadily, with clenched knuckle and jaw. Pedrin was impressed despite himself.

  ‘Do you mean the Erlrune of Evenlinn?’ Durrik whispered, casting a quick glance around him. ‘You’d dare approach the Erlrune?’

  ‘What else can I do? If your predictions are right, my brother has only a few more months in which to live—and Lord Zavion has already been granted the Regency of Estelliana by the king. Once Ziggy dies, Lord Zavion will be count and my mother and I will be dispossessed. We have lived at Levanna-On-The-Lake all our lives, I do not wish to live anywhere else.’

  Although Pedrin knew that starkin women were totally dependent upon their menfolk, he was puzzled by her vehemence. ‘But surely Lord Zavion wouldn’t throw you out into the streets?’

  ‘No, probably not,’ she admitted. ‘He would send me away to some loathsome academy for fine young ladies, though, would he not? And you should see how he fawns over my mother. I know he plans to woo her and wed her, and then he would be my step-father and that I could not bear! I know everyone else thinks he is so handsome and charming, but I do not. I think he is cruel and cold-hearted and I am sure he has had something to do with my father’s death and this unnatural sleep of my brother’s. I just need to find some proof.’

  ‘But to seek out the Erlrune of Evenlinn!’ Durrik’s eyes were wide with admiration. ‘Aren’t you a-feared?’

  ‘Why should I be afraid?’ Lisandre said. ‘I am of the Ziv. She would not dare harm me.’

  Briony and Pedrin’s eyes met in involuntary dismay.

  ‘You see why I had t’come with her,’ the dark-haired girl said. ‘Milady has no idea how perilous the Perilous Forest really is.’

  ‘And you do?’

  Briony nodded. ‘I spent the first half of my life a-living on the verge of the forest. I was raised by one of the Crafty, you see. She knew more about the wildkin than anyone and she taught me what she could. It was from her I learnt about the Erlrune. Lady Lisandre insisted she meant to set off to the Perilous Forest, willy-nilly, and I knew she wouldn’t make it very far by herself.’

  Pedrin frowned. ‘The two of you have about as much sense as a couple of hens,’ he said rudely. ‘Look at you, you’re skinny as a broom-handle. What would you do if you came across a gibgoblin?’

  ‘Run,’ Briony said. ‘As fast as I could. Though that’s one reason why I plan to stay near the river. Gibgoblins don’t much like water.’

  ‘What about the lake-lorelei then? Or river-roans, for that matter? You think you could outrun a river-roan, and her ladyship mincing about in three-inch heels? Jumping Jimjinny, what a couple of cabbage-heads!’

  She blushed and dropped her eyes.

  Pedrin hefted his pouch of stones. ‘Lucky you ran into us,’ he said. ‘Else you could really have found yourselves in a pot of trouble.’

  ‘You’ll come with us then?’ Briony gripped her hands together anxiously. He noticed for the first time that her eyes were as green as the summer-bright leaves.

  ‘Well, we don’t really have any other plans,’ he replied gruffly, feeling his neck getting hot.

  ‘I thank you,’ Lisandre said regally. ‘Your offer of assistance is most gratefully accepted—though I really must insist that you wash if you wish to serve me.’

  Colour burnt up his face to the very tips of his ears. Pedrin was trying to think of some suitably blistering retort when Durrik stepped forward, bowing so low his hat swept the ground.

  ‘We’re at your service, milady,’ he said adoringly.

  TEN

  In single file the children made their way through the trees, scrambling over roots and boulders and slipping occasionally in the slick mud. The mist had gathered close about the branches, rattling leaves with an occasional gust of rain. The children jerked around every time, their pupils dilated with fear. Pedrin’s hand was clenched so tightly on his slingshot, his fingers were white and cramped.

  The goats were uneasy too. Thundercloud bounded around madly, his eyes narrowed so sharply none of their golden gleam could be seen. He leapt from a high mound of grey boulders down into a fern-shrouded gully, back onto the path, and then up onto a tree-root, where he stood, his narrow head raised to sniff the wind. Snowflake ran close to Durrik’s side, letting the crippled boy lean on her back so he could get along faster.

  A gust of wind roared down the gully, blowing back Briony’s curls and ruffling Lisandre’s silken skirts. A volley of seedpods suddenly blew down from the trees, making Pedrin swear and duck, his arms over his head. There was a trill of mocking laughter.

  Pedrin’s head snapped around. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Just the wind?’ the starkin princess said nervously.

  ‘That warn’t no wind,’ Pedrin said scornfully. ‘Someone’s a-lamming us with pebbles.’ He looked around suspiciously, torn between affront and fear.

  There was another rattle as seedpods showered down upon their heads. Lisandre screamed and ducked down, her head buried into her arms.

  ‘Look, look!’ Durrik cried, pointing up into the canopy.

  Pedrin stared, one hand automatically fitting a stone into his slingshot. For a moment he saw nothing but the wild lashing of branches in the wind, then he heard another trill of laughter, right behind him. He spun around, craning his neck, and saw the treetops were filled with tall, slim, agile figures, all swinging nimbly from branch to vine to branch, some leaping incredible distances to catch a mere twig with one hand. They were so high and so quick it was hard to get more than an impression, but the
y were easily as tall as himself and dressed all in leaves.

  ‘Wood-sprites,’ Briony whispered, crouching down so she was hidden by a bush. ‘They won’t hurt us, not unless we’ve summat they’re a-wanting. Keep quiet and still and they might let us be.’

  With shaking hands Durrik fumbled in his pocket for his bell. As he began to unwrap it from his crumpled cravat, it clanged softly. Briony said hurriedly, ‘Is that a bell? Put it away, Durrik, unless you want to lose it! They’re not boo-bogeys to be frightened away by bell-ringing. ’Tis just the sort of thing they love, summat bright and shiny that makes a noise. Put it away.’

  Durrik obeyed quickly and they all crouched down, gazing fearfully up at the wood-sprites as they leapt and swung through the trees, calling to each other with high, sweet voices like birds.

  Thundercloud bleated a loud challenge, and a group of wood-sprites came swarming down through the branches to pepper the billy-goat with seedpods plucked from the trees. One hung upside down from long, prehensile toes to tickle his nose with a leafy twig. Thundercloud charged, and the wood-sprite swung gracefully out of his reach, laughing.

  He was a tall, slim, brown figure, with tousled curls all matted with leaves into wild elflocks that stuck out all over his head. His face was triangular with narrow, pointed ears, slanted hazel-green eyes and a wicked grin. His torso was very smooth and muscular, and he wore a short robe of green leaves so tightly sewn together it looked like living chain-mail. His bare limbs were very long and supple, his fingers and toes longer than the palm of his hand or sole of his foot.

  As Thundercloud wheeled and charged again, bleating with fury, the wildkin somersaulted with incredible speed through the branches and landed on his feet right beside Pedrin. He grinned at the cowering goat-boy, showing white pointed teeth, and snatched at the knife strapped to Pedrin’s belt.