Heartwood (54 page)

Within seconds he was asleep.

For a while, he slept undisturbed, his tired young body resting and regenerating, his mind resting, too, with no thought to the work he had carried out in his waking hours. He was not aware of his surroundings; in fact, the whole Komis army could have run down the Cavum stairs and trampled over the books, and he probably wouldn't have awoken.

Gradually, however, something roused him from the depths of slumber, as if he were a fish at the bottom of a deep pool, and someone had hooked him and was reeling him in. Slowly, he climbed to the light of consciousness, and as he came to, he opened his eyes and realised he was not alone in the room.

Someone was sitting on the lid of a chest, over in the shadows. The last mists of sleep still clouding his senses, Nitesco blinked several times and pushed himself upright. No warning signals sounded in his head – after all, if it had been an enemy, surely they wouldn't be waiting for him to awake before they attacked him? The person sat leisurely, one ankle resting on the other knee, with leather boots and close-fitting leggings crossed with leather thongs, and he could see the standard-issue Militis mail on the lower body, although the upper was hidden in shadow. A hand came down to rest on the boot and Nitesco saw the distinctive oak leaf tattoo on the right wrist.

“Who are you?” he asked, his senses clearing and beginning to tell him something was not right.

The figure leaned forward as he said with a smile: “I think you know who I am, Libraris.” A lock of hair curled on his forehead, and as he realised which wrist the tattoo was on, Nitesco recognised who it was.

It was Gavius.

A smile formed on Nitesco's face before the full realisation sank in, and he stood and stepped towards the knight before he caught himself. He stared, his smile fading. “But you are…” his voice trailed off.

“What?” Gavius prompted, teasing.

“Dead,” said Nitesco matter-of-factly.

Gavius shrugged. “Life is not black-and-white, Nitesco. One is not just alive or dead. It is a matter of degrees. You should understand that better than anyone.”

Nitesco did not understand, but he nodded anyway. His heart pounded, but he was afraid to move or say anything to express his alarm, in case the knight vanished. Eventually, he stated, “They said you activated the Node before…before…”

Gavius nodded. His eyes were a bright blue, like a piece of the sky that had been hidden for so long. “It was magnificent,” he breathed. “I saw the Green Giant – he rose up out of the earth and spoke to me. The energy, Nitesco, you would not believe the energy that flowed through me.”

Nitesco nodded, suddenly finding tears in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Gavius blinked. “I am here to help you.”

“Me?” Nitesco's breathing quickened. “You mean with the fifth Node?”

“Yes.”

“You know where it is?”

“Yes.” Gavius smiled.

Nitesco opened his mouth to ask him a Question, but a movement in the shadows caught his attention, and the words melted in his mouth like soft pastry. Something was crawling across the floor. He stared as it writhed towards him, slow and insidious like a snake. Was it a snake? He couldn't take his eyes off it, and he couldn't move. His feet felt glued to the floor, his limbs frozen. He looked up at Gavius in alarm, but Gavius just continued to smile at him and did not rise to help.

The thing on the floor crawled closer, and suddenly Nitesco realised it wasn't a snake. It did not appear to be animal at all. It was something from a plant, like a creeper, or a tree root…

The root crept up to him and wrapped itself around his legs. Frozen as he was, he could only watch as it curled up his calves, then his knees, then around his thighs. It reached his waist, and then, suddenly, it tugged.

It took him by surprise and he lost his balance. He fell backwards onto the floor. The root tightened and contracted, and he clawed at the floor as he was dragged towards Gavius. The knight was still smiling, but Nitesco was suddenly frightened, and he scrabbled for a hold on the floor, his fingers clawing earth and loose stones, but he could not get a grip. Slowly, he slid across towards the Militis. The root dragged him all the way to Gavius's feet. Nitesco lay there like a dog, panting, looking up at the knight in confusion. Why was Gavius not helping him? Why was he just sitting there, that cool, curious smile on his face?

Then, suddenly, he felt himself sink into the earth.

“No!” Finally finding his voice, he yelled at Gavius, but the knight did not move to help him. His sky-blue eyes fixed on Nitesco and just watched as the Libraris was sucked slowly into the earthen floor. Nitesco felt as if he were stuck in quicksand. No matter how much he struggled, he could not seem to break free. His alarm was growing now, and no longer did he believe he was in no danger. His arms flailed to either side as he tried to find something to grab onto, but there were only books and pieces of parchment on the floor.

Finally Gavius leaned forward. His blue eyes looked deeply into Nitesco's. “Let it take you,” he breathed.

Nitesco stared at him. So this was all part of the plan? It went against all his instincts to not struggle, but, believing in Gavius, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the ground suck him down.

Eventually, the sinking sensation stopped. He lay there for a minute, afraid to open his eyes, but lifted the lids slowly. Astonished, he sat up. He was still in the Cavum, and both Gavius and the tree root had gone. He was sitting on the floor, books scattered around him, and there was no hole, nowhere through which he could sink.

He pushed himself to his feet and stood, staring down at the chest where Gavius had been sitting. Had it just been a dream? It had seemed so real. But then, how could it be real? Gavius was dead! He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was overworked and had had too little sleep. His brain was playing tricks on him.

Then his eyes alighted on the chest. He remembered the way the coffer in the Armorium had covered the entrance to the Cavum. His heart began to pound as he went across to it and began to pull on one of the handles. It was heavy, filled with books, but he was too impatient to take them all out. Putting all his weight behind it, he dragged it slowly away from the wall.

When it was a few feet away, he went around the back and stared at the floor. He brushed away the centuries-old dirt covering it. There was a large piece of board fitted into the floor. He bent down and began to scrape away the dirt at the edges, trying to get his fingers beneath the sides. After a while his fingers bled and his nails broke, but he carried on and eventually lifted the board, heaving it up against the wall. Then he looked down again.

There was a hole in the floor.

His head spun. It had been a vision; Gavius really had appeared to show him the way.

He retrieved the lantern from the table where he had been reading and brought it over to the hole. Looking down, he could see steps leading into the darkness. The air smelled musty but not bad. He wondered whether he should go and get one of the other Militis to go with him, but his curiosity overrode his caution.

His booted feet treading uneasily on the earthen steps, he descended into the darkness. The steps curled around and down, and he walked slowly, afraid of slipping and falling. He counted the steps as he descended. After twenty, he raised his lantern and tried to peer further down, but the darkness was like thick, soft mud, dense and sticky, and the light seemed unable to break through it.

After fifty steps, his foot found flat ground and he stumbled, putting his hands out to steady himself. He raised the lantern. He was in a small chamber, neater than a cave, with strange, archaic etchings on the walls in a language he did not recognise. They looked old, very old.

On the opposite side of the chamber was a wooden door. It was plain with an iron handle. Nitesco drew his sword. He was impulsive but not stupid. Swallowing, he walked over, turned the handle and opened it.

Stale air filled his nostrils, but nothing waited behind the door. He stepped into a passageway at right angles to the door. The passageway curved to both the left and the right. He chose left and walked along the earthen tunnel. After about twenty yards, it split into two more passages. He hesitated. Was he in some sort of maze? He chose left again, walked a short distance and once again found himself at a fork. That confirmed it: he was definitely in a labyrinth, a maze that appeared to be right under the Temple, maybe even right under the Arbor. Looking closely at the sides of the passage, he could see tree roots embedded deep within them, as if the tree itself was holding up the walls. He could not go any farther without the risk of getting lost. Turning, he went back up the tunnel. He would get himself a long rope and tie it to the door or search for some other way to leave a trail so he could find his way back.

He went down the corridor, went right, then right again. He walked twenty yards, thinking about where he could go to get some rope.

Then he stopped.

The door wasn't where it should be. Instead, in front of him was another fork.

Nitesco froze on the spot, his heart hammering. When he had entered the maze, he had gone left, then left again. So right and right again should have brought him back to the door. Shouldn't it?

Perhaps he had been mistaken. He took the right fork and walked a bit further. The door, however, did not appear. After another twenty yards, the passageway forked again, each tunnel looking exactly the same as the others.

Nitesco cursed himself loudly. He should have marked the tunnels with his sword as he walked. But deep inside, he knew it wouldn't have mattered. He knew the way he had walked should have returned him to the door. It was a magical labyrinth, a maze that could not be solved with logic.

He was going to have to find some other way out.

 

IV

After the swamps and quagmires of the open fields of Laxony, the Forest of Blades to the south of Heartwood was a welcome change for Beata and Teague. It was still wet in there, of course, as some of the trees were not yet in leaf, but there were enough evergreens to provide some shelter from the downpour, and the ground wasn't quite as soggy as that which they had been travelling on the past few days.

Beata glanced over her shoulder to check Teague was still with her and hid a smile at the sorry sight he presented. Slouched forward on the horse, he looked like a sodden mass of clothes dumped on top of the saddle. His beautiful black hair was plastered to his head like a helmet, and he showed the beginnings of a black beard where he had not shaved for several days because she would not loan him a blade.

Looking down, she checked his wrists were still cuffed to the saddle and the rope that joined his horse to hers was tied to the reins. She turned back in the saddle. She did not want to look at him. Every time she gazed into those golden eyes, she was reminded of what she had done, and her shame was overwhelming.

The horses' hooves squelched through the soggy leaves. She wondered what had happened to the bandits that had attacked them on their way from Heartwood, a lifetime ago. There had been no sign of them since they entered the forest. She remembered the attack, and how poor Erubesco had been wounded. She had not had time to call in and pick her up on her way back to Heartwood.

She kicked her heels into her horse's sides, trying to get it to move more quickly, but it was difficult in the undergrowth; the mare stumbled repeatedly on broken branches and clearly disliked the atmosphere of the forest, where the trees whispered and played with her mane as she passed under them.

Behind her, Beata felt a tug on the rope that joined her to Teague. She ignored it at first; it was a game they played; he would keep doing it and she would ignore it until she lost her temper and shouted at him.

This time, however, it was different; she felt the tension on the rope tighten and her mare pranced impatiently in the leaves in response. Beata twisted in the saddle and whispered furiously over her shoulder, “Will you stop that!”

In reply, Teague put his fingers to his lips and motioned for her to stop. She did so, wondering what the matter was now. He kicked his horse forwards until it stood beside hers and leaned closer to her. She watched him carefully, waiting for a trick.

“We are being watched,” he said quietly.

She glanced around the forest, but could see nothing. “Bandits?” she whispered, her heart rate increasing a little.

Teague's golden eyes flickered around the trees, then returned to her, his steady gaze making her shiver. “No. They are Komis.”

“Komis?” Beata was confused. “What are you talking about? What would Komis be doing here?”

“I do not know. I do not understand it myself. But they are here; they are in the trees.”

“Have they come to rescue you?”

Instead he laughed. “I sincerely doubt it.”

“Have they seen us?”

“I am not sure. But either way, we will not be visible much longer.”

“We won't?”

His eyes glittered. “I have ways of blending in with nature. But to hide you too, I'll have to get on your horse with you.”

She stared at him for a moment, not trusting him at all. Why on earth would Komis be hiding in the woods? Surely it was just a ruse, a way to try and escape?

But then why try and get on her horse? Surely he would have done better to increase the distance between them, not shorten it? She looked around the forest again, her heart thumping, but still could not see anything.

“They are coming closer,” he said matter-of-factly.

With a sigh, she leaned forward and unlocked the manacles chaining his hands to the saddle. Smoothly, he slipped off his horse. Untying the rope binding them together, he turned the horse and smacked its rump. The horse trotted off a short way and then turned to look at them. Teague ignored it. “I cannot disguise her as well.” Coming up to Beata's mare, he lifted himself up behind her.