by Katy Winter
The trail began an incline several miles back, the bank below them getting steeper, to the point that Kher couldn't see clearly down into the deepening valley, because bush was too dense. The path got muddier too and the horses had to be guided around slippery patches. The upper bank beside them was more sparsely covered in mossy ground cover and lichens. Water dripped slowly from the bank to the edge of the path. There was no bird-song. Even the insects had gone.
The trail wound on endlessly into the distance, so by early evening Kher signalled a halt in a small clearing. He and his four warriors slid thankfully to the damp ground. Luton leapt from his horse, his eyes still startlingly bright and alive.
"We will camp here," stated Kher. "It looks like an even longer ride tomorrow."
"Gods, but it's dark and cold," mumbled Emil, stamping his feet. Luton gave him an odd look as he took the reins from the warrior but he said nothing.
"You are used to the south," teased Han, as he too handed his reins to Luton. "I thank you, boy."
"It looks even gloomier ahead," observed Kher, a slightly malicious smile in his eyes as they rested on Emil. "You have a very long ride ahead of you, Acedar. It is a huge forest that takes us to the very northern edge of the Samar States and the last city-state called Lenten."
"I can see that, my lord," muttered Emil.
"The boy seems in his element though, does he not?" mused Kher, watching Luton lead the horses from the clearing to a brook they'd passed only minutes before.
"Yes, my lord," agreed Lus, gritting his teeth when the breeze blew his cloak back.
"What you need, men," suggested Kher, with a broadening smile, "is a fire."
While the warriors sat huddled about the fire, Kher watched Luton. The young man sat gracefully at his ease, cross-legged, his fingers twining thoughtfully through his hair. He couldn't know it, but at that moment Ensore could've mistaken Luton for his twin. For a slave who had no emotions, the dark eyes were expressive, deep and vital. They stared at nothing in particular but they showed that Luton had life. Kher could only remember the coldness, the curiosity and the terror, but these eyes showed none of those emotions. They were so alive they mesmerised.
Luton ate very well for one who usually ate sparingly and he handed his plate back to Abek for more, before sprawling out lazily on the soft ground, his head back as he stared up at the night sky.
"Tell me about the constellations, Kher," he said invitingly. Kher looked down at him with a smile, remembering doing exactly that cycles ago in the desert. Quietly, he leaned back on an elbow and began to teach the young man again, outlining shapes and the reasons behind the names of many stars. When the haskar paused and drank from his tankard, Luton spoke.
"Are you a scholar, Kher?"
Surprised, the haskar swallowed hastily and coughed. Clearing his throat, he turned back to study the figure now sprawled on the stomach.
"I would not call myself that, boy, but I read avidly and I study the past with interest. It fascinates me."
"I think you're a learned man," observed Luton, plucking at a fern and nibbling experimentally on it. He grimaced and threw it away.
"In other circumstances, Luton, I would have wished to pursue scholarly interests, but I was born to be a Saratquan and a warrior. I could not be both."
"What's a Saratquan?" Luton rolled onto his side, his eyes staring up at the haskar.
"I am a ruler of city-states in the south, boy."
"Are these warriors from there?"
"Yes, boy, they owe allegiance to me and to the warlord. I owe loyalty to the warlord as well."
"I must obey my master. Is it so different?"
"In so far as our actions are dictated by those over us, Luton, no, I guess not."
"Only you're not a slave."
"No," agreed Kher gently. "I am not a slave."
"Do you believe in any gods, Kher?" came the next question.
The haskar was unused to sustained conversations with one who was usually taciturn and the question was so unexpected it startled him. He had to think for a few moments.
"All races believe in something," he temporised. He saw the large eyes widen a little.
"But do you, Kher, believe in any gods?"
"Yes, boy," breathed Kher, looking up into the sky. "I believe I do."
"I was taught not to," said the velvety voice.
"By whom?"
"By my master. He said the gods are for the credulous and the weak."
"Perhaps, Luton."
"You're not credulous. Are you weak, Kher?" Kher's glance was held by those black eyes, almost he suspected, in gentle mockery.
"Some may think so," he responded honestly.
"I don't believe so," came the deep voice very softly. "I think you're an unusual Churchik warrior, Kher."
Luton lapsed into silence. Kher looked beyond him to the shade that appeared increasingly insubstantial - it was a wraith that clung to Luton's horse. Kher noticed that wherever possible it avoided the trees, where Luton was drawn to them. He was left wondering.
After a short rest, during which Luton flung himself back onto his stomach and put his head down on his arms, he unexpectedly rose and pointed back along the trail. Kher nodded.
"Wandering again, are you, boy?"
Luton shrugged as he turned. Kher watched the shade. It followed Luton with an effort, recoiling when it nearly came in contact with the trees. Then it disappeared.
Luton walked only a short distance, attracted by the trees but unsure why. He sat on the trail, his hand against the rough bark of a huge and majestically ancient tree that stood on the edge of the path. Some of its enormous exposed roots trailed down the lower bank to fade into soil further down.
When Luton put his hand to the tree he was magnetically drawn to touch it with both hands, a warmth he couldn't understand spreading through him. He tried hard to draw back his hands, but found that impossible. When he glanced down at the path he was on, he saw it was gone, and, where it'd been was a huge, hairy creature that reminded Luton of a very large dog. It had yellowed fangs, a white muzzle that suggested extremely advanced age, and it had a lop-sided grin. It regarded Luton intently. Luton stared back at it, his hands still held to the tree. When he looked beyond the creature, he saw there were now three paths where before there'd been only one. One went directly ahead, but the other two forked to left and right. Luton mulled over this.
For some reason the huge creature didn't frighten him. He decided to squat, his hands sliding down the trunk as he went. Still grinning amiably, the creature sat as well. It made no move towards Luton.
"If," began Luton tentatively, measuring the enormous canine cautiously, "I'm harmless to you, does that mean you're harmless to me?" The creature's grin broadened, but there was no answer. Luton tried again. "Can you speak to me?"
"Of course I can speak," came a very deep drawl.
"Are you harmless to me?"
"That depends." The creature licked its chops but still Luton wasn't bothered.
"What are you?"
"I'm a shagi."
"Where do you live?"
"In the forest."
"Where in the forest?"
"Within the tree you hold."
"Why are you here?"
"Watching."
"For what?"
"I watch the paths."
Luton paused and sank onto the ground. He eyed the shaggy head uncertainly.
"Do you have choices?"
"That depends on the situation."
"But you watch me choose?"
"I didn't say that, did I?"
"Why do you watch me then?"
"Reaction follows action."
"Is that good for me or bad?"
"You decide."
"How can I, when I don't know what the choices are?"
"Find out for yourself."
"How," demanded Luton, "can I find out, without taking one trail that could well be wrong?"
"I only monitor those who c
ome."
"Does my survival depend on it?" As soon as Luton asked the question he knew it was a silly one, but he wanted a direct answer. He sighed. Now he sank lower, hands still touching the bark.
"Of course."
"Can you help me?"
"Why should I?" Luton had to acknowledge the justice of that question, but he persevered.
"Do you ever help anyone?"
"It's not my function."
"Have you ever helped anyone?"
"Help's a matter of reciprocity," came the evasive answer. "That's for you to find out."
"I can't go further until I solve this, can I?"
"No."
Luton reflected on that and gave a deeper sigh, while the creature shifted his haunches to a more comfortable position. His tongue lolled out and he licked his chops contemplatively. Luton still didn't feel especially threatened.
"I'd offer help if it was needed," he offered quietly.
"What help do I need from you, boy-thing?"
"We all need help at times."
"But I don't need it, whereas you think you do."
"If you were to help me now, then in time I'd respond to your call for assistance."
"We speak of now, not later."
"Can't you see beyond now?"
"No."
"So everything's now."
"Yes, of course it is. There is no later."
"I know there'll be a later."
"How?" demanded the shagi, grinning.
"I can't answer that," admitted Luton, his confession making him feel foolish.
"You're very sure, boy-thing. Is all so clear to you then?"
"No," said Luton hurriedly. He thought, then added, "So I'd have to offer help now?"
"Yes."
"But it wouldn't necessarily assist me even so?"
"True."
"And you say you need no help so that makes the offer pointless." The shagi panted gently. "And now is all there is?"
"You take a long time to understand." There was the faintest tinge of impatience, almost a growl, in the deep voice.
"What can I offer, or do, to get beyond where we are now?"
"It's for you to find out."
"Who sent you to watch me?"
"Seek the answer within," came the reply.
"I'm not getting very far, am I?" asked Luton ruefully.
"No."
"Because I ask the wrong questions?"
"Possibly."
Luton lapsed into a long silence, mulling thoughts over and discarding answers that were clearly irrelevant, all the while regarding the shaggy creature with interest. Eventually he closed his eyes and stayed that way. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the canine entity still gently panted in front of him.
"You say you're here to watch me."
"Yes."
"Is it to actually see what I choose?"
"Some may think so."
"And you can only give an answer to a direct question that follows a certain train of thought?"
"Maybe." Luton's eyes lit up and his mouth curled into a delighted smile.
"No," he said calmly. "You're wrong."
"How so?"
"I have you," murmured Luton. "You can watch me, yes, but you can't watch me choose because you don't know what choice is. You can't monitor that which doesn't exist for you, can you? And as I may choose, it suggests a future for me, whereas you say there is no later and everything is now. Only the moment of my choice is now."
The canine shimmered. The last Luton saw of it was a final lick of the chops that seemed to hang briefly in front of him, then, at the moment the canine disappeared, Luton felt himself absorbed into the tree to which he still clung, the power taking him effortlessly. He had no inclination to fight it. He seemed to lose his identity in becoming part of this fiercely powerful being. He let himself go.
He became the vast, sprawling root system grounded in solid earth; he was the enormous girth that was the result of cycles of maturity and survival; he spread along uppermost branches that seemed to reach to the very sky. A deep rumbling sound shook all parts of Luton's being.
"I'm ancient, boy. Do you seek to break free of me?"
Luton sought for a part of himself with which he could respond, and, finally, through sheer will-power, he found his essence and held to that. He opened his mind to the tree. Its sentience entered his, and, as it did, Luton saw the tree-shagi symbiosis as it had evolved over many hundreds of cycles. There was a more gentle two-way exploration as the minds melded and Luton tried to understand and accept, only vaguely aware of humming through the soles of his feet. He saw the shagi, through his awareness, as part of the tree.
Then, with shock, he realised he'd translated himself, in his spiritual entirety, into being a part-spirit of both shagi and tree. He was conscious he now looked through the shagi's eyes, but the knowledge didn't trouble him. Not far from him, but below him, half-lay a very tall, gaunt young man, black-bearded and with unplaited and tousled curls. The expression on the face was remote but the pose was very relaxed, the young man's hands clasped round the trunk of an old gnarled tree. Luton sensed both amusement at, and affection for, the boy in the entity he'd partially become. He spoke.
"Do you exist, or am I dreaming?"
"You don't dream, boy, because you can't rest. Do you exist yourself?" There was a teasing note to the rumbling voice in Luton's mind.
"I don't know if I exist or not."
"As we do, so do you, boy. You're become us."
"By us, do you mean you and the shagi."
"Not entirely."
"On what plane do we exist?"
"On whatever plane you wish, boy." Luton sensed the dry humour and responded to it.
"So I'm here, yet not here?"
"Perhaps, child, perhaps."
"You're on the edge of the path though, aren't you?"
"Watching you choose your path," corrected the tree-shagi entity.
"This is important, isn't it?"
"For you it is, yes."
"And for you?" asked Luton quietly. He felt the perceptible hesitation.
"It has become so for us now, yes."
"Can you advise me?"
"We lack the arrogance to do so."
"Does everyone who has to choose have their own path?"
"Not everyone who comes sees the paths, boy. Unlike most, you do. That's unusual in one so very young." Luton hesitated.
"What's right for one isn't necessarily right for me."
"That's so."
"Have you a name?" The shagi laughed in Luton's mind.
"I answer to Carob." There was a pause and then, "And you call yourself Luton. Isn't that so, boy?"
"Yes," answered Luton.
"And you've come from the Keep?"
"Yes."
"And you're going?"
"Where I'm sent."
"Have you no will of your own, child?"
"I'm a slave."
"That's merely a state of being," mocked the rumbling voice. "You're beyond that, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"You're a mage's apprentice, aren't you?"
"Yes, Harth told me that."
"How much has Malekim taught you, boy?"
"My master's called Blach."
"No, boy, your master is Malekim."
Once again Luton's being was submerged in the tree symbiosis and he freely gave what was sought, only feeling a gusty sigh that shook him when the voice resumed the conversation.
"Who am I?" he asked, in a very small and uncertain voice. He let himself drift and then felt the warmth seep through him again.
"Such a battered essence you have, boy," came the voice gently. "We understand you, child of woe made a child of the dark. You could learn wisdom and enhance your youthful power. Don't throw such a gift away, but learn to cherish it. Abuse it and you forfeit any right to it, just as your master's done."
"I don't understand."
"In time, boy, you will. The time's not now.
"
"Whom do you serve, Ancient Ones?"
"Mostly ourselves," was the immediate response.
"No one else?"
There was no answer to that. Luton knew the moment had come. He looked through Carob's eyes at the three paths. He saw the path he had to follow, narrow, overgrown and it looked cold and uninviting, whereas the other two paths forked cheerfully and sunlit, to left and right. They looked easy, broad, leafy and comfortable, but, reluctantly, Luton made himself choose the centre one. He knew it was his choice and that he'd abide by it. He sighed deeply. Then he felt an approving glow that suffused him.
"He knows," crooned one deep voice.
"He is chosen," said another, with affectionate respect.
"He has chosen," breathed another with satisfaction. Luton felt the presence quietly and inexorably withdraw, though he didn't wish it to. Only a sense of strength remained that buoyed him.
"I'm Carob, boy, and I'll be with you, though you won't see me and will only recognise me when you call. We offer you that much. Remember when the time comes. Sleep, boy, sleep."
When Luton's mind and body joined, his hands slipped from the tree and he fell back against the trunk, his body completely at rest. He slept as he'd not done since Ortok. The shade was nowhere to be seen.
Kher found him twenty minutes later. Since they entered the forest, it was unlike Luton to be gone so long, and the haskar became increasingly concerned because darkness would fall very soon. He walked quickly back along the trail for a good two miles without sighting the young man and turned thoughtfully, his anxiety heightened. On his return, he almost stumbled over Luton. Swearing at himself for missing Luton the first time, Kher stopped and stooping, touched the recumbent form on the shoulder. He dropped to one knee, a gentle hand touching the dark curls.
Luton stirred. He opened his eyes. Kher was overwhelmed by the life and sense in the lovely black eyes that were clear and shone. He was even more surprised when, for the very first time, Luton smiled up at him, the moulded lips curling in welcome. Kher caught the young man in very strong arms and held him close, before he lifted Luton to his feet and released him, his pale eyes moist as he looked at the young man. Luton stared back, eyes deep and unreadable.
"Come, boy," ordered Kher, in a shaken but authoritative voice. "It is late and cold." Luton nodded and turned to go. Kher touched him again and there was no flinch, just contented acceptance. "It gives me joy to see you smile, boy. You have never done so." Luton took the other hand held out to him. He spoke in a confused voice.
