The Broken Forest (6 page)

Grete took a healthy swallow of her own and let the skin rest in her lap, clutching it loosely. She brushed sweat-damp hair from where it stuck to her brow. "It wasn't this bad before. I don't know how it could have gotten so bad so fast. This sort of contamination usually takes years to spread this far, sink in this deep."

Adamina pursed her lips in thought, resting a hand on the trunk. Closing her eyes, she felt down, down into the forest. It was even more fractured here than where she had bound herself to it just outside the village. "The troubling news is that it could have spread much faster. The forest has been trying to slow the poison down, and close off the worst part, where it must have started. It's trying to save what is left, but unfortunately its efforts are in vain."

"I had no idea it was so bad. I thought this forest was just made gloomy by shadows of past deeds." Grete gazed around sadly at their surroundings, stroked the tree they sat on. "I will always regret my mother and I did not do more, that we did not realize how much more was needed."

"You did the best you could. Even we Huntresses never realized that this forest was so broken. It's not part of the Royal Forest, but still we should have sensed it. Hopefully we can bring it peace, though I fear the only peace it will find is in destroying it." The thought made her want to cry.

She startled when a hand curled around hers, squeezed gently. Adamina looked at their hands, then up at Grete, who smiled softly and reached up with her other hand to brush away the tears on Adamina's cheeks. "Is that truly all we can do now?"

Adamina shook her head. "The forest has gone mad from poison and pain. Even if we get rid of the rapunzel, the forest is too broken to recover. The best we can do is put the forest out of its misery. Doing so, however, will take more Huntresses and a few Sorcerers. For now, you and I can only destroy the rapunzel and ensure it stops attacking Edge. Once that's done, I'll see you home and then return to the royal palace for help."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Adamina said quietly. She sighed and slid to her feet, retrieved the waterskin Grete must have set on the ground at some point, put it back in her pack. Settling the pack on her back, she adjusted her cloak until it fell comfortably and looked to Grete, who stood waiting as well. "Shall we, witch?"

Grete smiled and stepped in close, curled her fingers around the back of Adamina's neck, leaned up to kiss her softly. "I do wish we were meeting under happier circumstances, my lady, but I am glad we have met." She stepped back and turned away before Adamina could reply, humming softly as they headed out.

Adamina fell into step behind her, ignoring the protests of her sore, tired body as they continued weaving, climbing, fighting their way through the woods.

They finally started going downhill after another hour or so, and not long after that they came upon the thorns. As Grete had promised, they were large, black, and painful. Adamina tripped on a snarl of vines and roots and managed to ram her palm directly on one sharp, jutting thorn. "Damn it!" Gritting her teeth against the throbbing, stabbing pain spreading through her hand, Adamina fumbled out a handkerchief from a pocket in her cloak and pressed it to the hole in her palm. "What kind of thorns are these? I thought I had seen everything, but these are new to me."

Grete shook her head. "I don't know. Likely they were something entirely harmless once, and have been warped like everything else."

Adamina sighed. She studied her wound critically, then pulled out supplies to bandage it properly. Grete took the supplies from her and set deftly to work; Adamina was more than content to let her. "At least the thorns don't appear to be poisonous. I hope." She wiggled her fingers when Grete finished. "It still feels like someone stabbed a knife through my hand, but it's easing off. Thank you."

"Of course," Grete said with a smile. "You do like to get injured, don't you?"

Adamina laughed. "No, actually, but I seem to have a knack for it anyway." She tucked the supplies back in her bag and once more stood, settling the pack into place. "Onward, and hopefully I will stop trying to get myself killed, at least through sheer clumsiness."

"Remind me to tell you about the time I accidentally locked myself in my own cellar."

"I will definitely remind you," Adamina replied, grinning. "That is a story I need to hear. Sounds like something I would do to myself I had my own house."

Returning the grin, Grete turned and headed off again. They carefully worked their way through the tangle of thorn-covered trees and shrubs, the ground half-covered with even more of them.

It was dark when they finally reached their destination. Adamina was so exhausted she could sleep for at least a month, and her stomach long ago had given up complaining of hunger.

The tower loomed before them like a patch of night with no stars. The field surrounding it was completely covered in rapunzel bushes, the smell of them dizzying, nauseating. From what little she could see, they were snarled in the black thorns. No, not snarled… they were
caged
by the black thorns. The forest was doing its damnedest to save itself. "That's going to be fun to deal with in the morning." She cracked a yawn, eyes watering.

Grete rested her head against Adamina's shoulder, overtaken by a huge yawn herself. "I know we have little choice, but I wish we did not have to wait until morning. Sleeping here makes me twitchy."

"We'll be all right. After all the trouble we had getting here, I refuse to let us be anything else. We will be sleeping in the trees tonight, though."

"That sounds comfortable," Grete said with a sigh that turned into another yawn. She straightened. "Which trees?"

"There," Adamina replied, pointing to one a few paces to their right. "It's got two branches big and sturdy enough, so we'll be close to each other if something does go wrong." She trudged over to it, helped Grete climb up and then followed her. "Take the higher branch, unless the height troubles you."

"Only the idea of falling gives me trouble," Grete replied as she climbed up to the indicated branch. "But I have rope for that."

Adamina smiled and waited until Grete had settled in. "All set?" Grete nodded, and Adamina swung onto her own branch. When she was as comfortable as she was going to get, she pulled off her necklace and summoned her wolf.

She appeared further down the branch, lolling her tongue before she settled at Adamina's feet.
This is the most trouble you've been in since the wraiths in the Spider Wood.

Ugh, do not remind me of that. At least I was alone then. If I mess up here, I'll get Grete killed right alongside me. I should have gone to the palace for help.

Your decision made sense at the time. You like the witch.

Adamina nudged her with the tip of her boot.
Are you implying I wouldn't care about the risks if I did not like her?

The wolf reached between her legs to nip at her calf right above her boot.
Brat. You know very well that's not what I meant. Don't try to avoid the matter by acting dense.

Who's avoiding? She's lovely, inside and out. The interest is mutual. We'll have a grand time when this mess is over.

Nudging her leg again, the wolf replied,
You don't sound yourself about that.

Adamina stifled a sigh, not wanting to draw Grete's attention.
She reminds me of home, of what it's like to return home. It does not mean anything in the end, except that I have been away from home too long.

You can return home in a moment whenever you want.

I would never abuse the family power that way. Emergencies only. I could use a break, but I am not that miserable.

Yet the witch makes you think of home. Do you want her to be home?

I've known her for a matter of days, wolf. No.

You'll never know what could be if you do not try.

Adamina almost laughed, then, though it would have been a jagged, bitter sound. She had tried before, but people got tired of waiting for a woman who might be gone as briefly as a week or as long as a year. Twice Adamina had returned to notes that were weeks old, filled with accusations and apologies. One man had at least had the decency to wait to say it to her face. Eventually, Adamina had given up. Mostly, work kept her too busy to care.

Then she met someone like Grete, capable, sweet, funny, tough… and she would probably surrender to temptation in the end and try to make it something it would never really be, though that presumed Grete wanted more than a night or two of fun. Better to enjoy that night or two, and take sweet memories with her, than try for something that was doomed from the start.

Her magic complements yours,
the wolf said.

That's about as relevant, in the end, as liking the same books.

I think—

"Goodnight," Adamina said firmly. Above her, Grete called a soft reply. The wolf nipped Adamina again but subsided and settled down.

Adamina listened to Grete until she went still and her breathing evened out, then finally allowed herself to sleep.

Morning came far too soon, bringing with it stiff, sore muscles and a stabbing headache. Adamina groaned, rubbed her eyes, then fumbled in the pack on her lap for something to help ease her damned headache.

"Does your head hurt as much as mine?" Grete called down.

"Yes." Adamina dumped a generous pinch of powder in her mouth, then chased it with water. "Do you have anything to take for it? I have stuff here if you need."

"I brought mine. Shall we reconvene on the ground?"

Adamina called out an affirmative, waited until her wolf leapt neatly to the ground before swiftly climbing down herself. Grete followed a few minutes later, her movements much more awkward and careful, but deft enough that with practice she would be good at it.

"I've never seen so much rapunzel," Grete said as she looked over the field, taking in the large bushes of spiny leaves and dark purple berries, all of them caged in by the heavy black thorns. The air was thick with a smell like rotted fruit and hot sugar.

Looming over everything like a dark castle was the stone tower, mostly crumbled, about as high as two people. What remained had been half-consumed by ivy and thorns; only snatches of the pale gray stone beneath were visible.

There is something inside it,
the wolf said.
Not alive, not dead.

"Marvelous," Adamina muttered, and explained when Grete shot her a puzzled look. "I had better go take a look. Stay here, run to the trees if something seems to change even the slightest bit.

Grete nodded. "You don't think I should come with you?"

"I'm only going to investigate; better not to drag you into more trouble than I already have." She reached out and caught Grete's hand, squeezed it briefly. "Be back soon. Wolf, get to work."

The wolf nosed at Grete's side, then padded toward the snarl of rapunzel and thorns.
I do not see any way for us to get through. I think it would take burning them.

Bad idea. A fire in this place would get out of control fast, especially with a forest this broken.

Then I think it's on you.

"Damn." Sheathing the sword she had only just drawn, Adamina unwound the bandages on her left hand, drew a dagger, and then reopened the wound on her left palm and slit the palm of her right hand to match it. She knelt on the ground, set the dagger aside, then dug her hands into the grass, gripping it tight, letting her blood seep into the ground.

Closing her eyes, Adamina poured her presence and power into the forest.
Forest hear me, forest heed me. I am the Huntress, here to serve and protect you. Open the thorns and let me pass. Open the thorns and let me pass.

The forest lashed back at her, dumping anger and fear on her. Adamina cried out, nearly let go—then held on more firmly, poured more power into it, fought back against the madness that wanted to break her.
I am here to help. I will grant you peace. Let me pass and cut the poison out. Open the thorns and let me pass!

She cried out again when the forest obeyed, as abrupt in acceptance as it had been in refusal. Trembling, she let go of the grass and stood up—and only when Grete stepped in and gently pressed a handkerchief to her nose did Adamina realize it had started bleeding. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Adamina replied, mouth quirking. "Just bleeding again; hazard of the occupation."

Grete hastily dug out supplies and treated her wounds, running her hands over the bandages fretfully when she was done. "You do have a penchant for injury."

"At least these are nothing food and rest won't fix. The forest is so broken here it does not know up from down. Stay here, be ready to run for your life."

Grete nodded. "Be careful."

"I'll try." Adamina drew her sword and followed behind her wolf down the small footpath that had been formed where the plants had pulled apart.

The plants rustled as she passed, and she didn't need to look back to know the path was closing behind her. Going to have to fight her way out, then. Marvelous. She loved fighting with injured hands.

A new smell washed over her as she reached the tower, but Adamina could not place it until she stepped through the archway and saw what was inside the tower ruins: a body. Well, it had probably been a body at one point. Much like the creatures, it had long since turned into something else.

That something appeared to be a heart for the rapunzel that grew up through the body, bright and lush and the most perfect plant Adamina had ever seen. Long vines extended out from beneath the body and spread out to cover the floor to the wall, where it grew through cracks and holes, the source of the rapunzel plants growing outside the tower.
No wonder the rapunzel is so firmly entrenched in the forest. I was wrong about the madness. Well, half wrong. The forest is torn between protecting its poison heart, and closing it off to save what's left. It really
doesn't
know up from down.

Poor forest,
the wolf replied.
Be careful killing the heart; I fear the forest's retaliation.