Moons of Carnathia, page 31
“Focus,” said Sarai. “Feel your inner shadow. Bind the spirits of the trees to your will.”
Zak took a slow breath and tried to do as instructed. He could feel the Methrakian stone, and as he reached his awareness into it, it almost felt as though it was sucking heat out of him, warming up the tattoo itself while leaving the skin around it cold and clammy.
He kept his hand on the bark of the tree and stared at a nearby branch sprout, smaller than any that would withstand his weight. He stilled his body, concentrating on moving the sprout. The branch twitched slightly, but whether it was from the wind or his will was hard to tell.
“It’s not enough,” said Zak, fidgeting his shoulders. “I don’t think the tattoo has enough magical strength to do it.”
Sarai raised an eyebrow, pulling her shirt to the side slightly to reveal her own blessing, which wasn’t much larger than Zak’s was. He could see the letters of it now, though they were written in an alphabet that he didn’t recognize.
“You need to focus,” she said. “You must want the results with every part of your will. Your inner shadow must expand outward.”
She leaned forward, teetering on the edge of her branch for a moment before falling forward into open air. She dropped with her arms and legs out to the side for a few feet, sweeping branches out at odd angles to catch herself, and then propel her body back up. Following almost the exact same arc she’d taken down, Sarai flew through the air, landing one foot after another on the same branch she’d been on seconds early. Zak could only gape at the display.
“That’s… unbelievable,” he muttered. “It’s magic.”
“It’s not magic,” said Iathia, appearing next to him. “She just good at focusing her celestial stone.”
Zak raised an eyebrow at her. Iathia hadn’t said much since the burial, and seemed to be content with the way Sarai was leading his instruction.
“Listen to her,” she said. “She may be speaking of ‘inner shadows’ and ‘will’, but it’s all the same in the end. You need to learn to use the celestial stones if you ever hope to be a capable warrior.”
Zak nodded, both to her and toward Sarai. He focused again, this time picking a branch within stepping range, and focusing on shifting it closer. It moved an inch, and then another. He grinned and carefully reached out one of his feet, using his arms to balance. Sarai was looking away from him, and turned around a second too late.
The branch bent, and Zak’s foot slipped past it, followed immediately after by the rest of his body. He fell, banging through branch after branch, twenty or more feet down, until Sarai pulled several thick branches into a weave underneath him, arresting his momentum and likely saving his life.
“You still need practice,” she called down. “But… not bad.”
CHAPTER 43
The Runathians ruled by a mandate of force, and according to Xethlan, their pride was what led to their downfall. We all must remain humble in the eyes of the Worldmaker. – Tromedious the Recorder, The Chronicles of Tromedious.
ZAK
Hours went by. Zak struggled to follow Sarai’s directions, balancing her advice on feeling for his inner shadow against the awareness he needed to move through the tree’s canopy safely.
She taught him how to direct the force of his Methrakian stone tattoo in different ways. Pulling branches into range for stepping was only a part of it. Sarai explained about using the force to support, to reinforce branches that would normally bend or snap under his weight, and even leveraging a branch’s flexibility to launch him into higher or longer jumps.
Zak was terrible at it, but not for lack of trying. He could see it in Sarai’s eyes, and the way she’d grow frustrated as she spoke of the concepts and theories behind the art of tree stepping. A single day wasn’t nearly enough time for him to learn, or even get a complete picture of what he was supposed to be doing.
He fell again, and again, and again, each time earning himself a few more scratches and much greater appreciation of the skill involved in what he’d seen Sarai do. She seemed to pay more mind to the branches snapped during his fumbling freefalls than Zak’s own injuries, and he could only surmise that it had something to do with the beliefs of her people, and the nature of their culture.
He didn’t give up, not even as the day wore on, and his hunger began to gnaw at him. The sun was setting over the horizon as he neared his hundredth attempt at making it from one tree to another. Sarai frowned, watching nervously as Zak willed one of the potential branch steps into place.
“Remember,” she said. “There must be at least an indirect point of contact between you and the branches you pull.”
“The trees have to be touching,” said Zak. “I know.”
“You may see it in the branches,” said Sarai, “But it could also be in the roots of the trees. There is an element of trust involved, but you must never take any part of the process for granted.”
The branch Zak moved toward him was thick where it attached to the tree, slowly thinning out as it extended out. He had to focus on everything at once, keeping his own balance on his current branch, the direction of the wind, and timing his transfer to match up with the change in the direction of the force from pulling the branch into range, to supporting his weight.
He took a slow breath and moved forward. Vertigo pulsed through his stomach as he glanced at the ground a hundred or more feet beneath him. Leaves fell through the air to either side, meandering drops of forest precipitation. Zak committed to taking his step, and time seemed to slow down, drawing the moment out into eternal frames.
He felt his mind snap into focus, as though he could feel and sense everything that was going on, within his own body and in the outside world. It was how Sarai had described the experience of focusing one’s inner shadow, and it gave him an intangible moment of clarity into what he was trying to do.
His foot made contact with the other branch. He felt his tattoo flare on his back, cold and hot against his skin at the same time as the magic of it shifted the force upward. He leaned his body weight toward his target, past the point of no return.
The branch held. Zak hovered in the air for a moment, and felt a sudden mixture of elation and panic. He fell forward toward the new tree’s trunk, his final destination, grabbing at the branch as though it would decide to betray and snap underneath his weight.
“Good,” said Sarai. “Very, very good.”
She stepped from branch to branch easily, creating a path through the trees over to where he was as though it was no different from walking through a field. Zak inched his way to the safety of the tree’s trunk and leaned his back against it.
Sarai had him repeat the process over and over again, offering advice to Zak as he slowly stumbled his way across branches. He could do it, and was almost consistent with it, but it was still nothing like what Sarai had done. He doubted he’d ever reach her level of grace and acrobatics, any more than someone learning to dive as an adult would reach his ability level there.
What Zak ended up with was less of a passive skill, as Sarai seemed to demonstrate when she skipped around trees, branches moving into position as though of their own free will, but more of an active one. He would build a step for himself, slowly, over a minute or so, and then step. Once he reached a place that felt sturdy, he’d do it again.
Sarai smiled at him as she watched, amusement leaking into her expression. Zak didn’t mind. He had had something far more useful than he’d expected to get out of a day’s training, as long as he could memorize the state of focus allowing it.
“Remember,” said Sarai. “Reach into your inner shadow. You will feel the path with your body as much with your mind.”
Zak nodded, and opened his mouth to answer. The small amount of concentration he had slipped from his grasp, and he fell a few feet off the branch he was supporting, landing on a group of thicker ones below. Sarai grimaced.
“I’m making progress, though,” said Zak. “That’s all that matters.”
She nodded and then sighed.
“Unfortunately, we are out of time,” she said. “It’s best not to be out in the forest after dark.”
The two of them walked back toward the village together, reaching the path they’d taken earlier, and following that back to the clearing. Sarai froze in place as they approached her hut. Several men were standing outside, and at least two of them were armed with wooden clubs or black bramble branches.
“Adara Sarai,” said the man in front. “The God of Trees has additional words on the infidel’s judgement. He is to be brought into the archchamber immediately.”
Sarai’s hands slowly closed and then reopened. Zak was thinking the same thing. They hadn’t brought their weapons out into the forest with them, even if fighting had been an option.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Sarai. “The judgement has already been issued, and come morning, it will be fulfilled.”
The man didn’t say anything, but also made no move toward his club. Zak was starting to understand who Sarai was among her people. She was young, but deeply respected.
“Please, Sarai,” said the man. “Do not make this difficult.”
Sarai closed her eyes, leaning a hand against forehead. She turned to Zak and frowned.
“We must go with them,” she said. “Or they will take us.”
Zak nodded.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll accept whatever happens from here.”
He and Sarai walked at the center of the group of men as they made their way back through the village. The sky was clear, and there was a true Methrakian moon in the sky, perfectly blue and full. It was late enough at night that there shouldn’t have been anyone outside of their huts, but still, a few people watched their procession toward the archchamber.
The men split apart as Zak and Sarai walked inside, a few leading the way, with two staying at the door. The chamber looked exactly as Zak remembered it, except for one glaring, unbelievable difference.
The God of Trees had his eyes open, and they were alert, scanning Zak and Sarai’s faces over as they approached. His facial expression was neutral, but more importantly, he had one, not just the empty corpse’s face Zak had seen during first encounter with him.
His eyes had an unnerving teal glow to them, and each breath the God of Trees took let out a low rustle, like the wind blowing through an overgrown forest. He waited until Zak and Sarai were in the center of the room, and then nodded.
“Adara Sarai,” said the God of Trees. “I have amended my recent decision on allowing the infidel free passage.”
“Free passage upon the completion of his questright,” said Sarai. “That’s different from just letting him go.”
“Be that as it may,” he spoke, “it amounts to about the same thing. We must not allow him to use the information he’s gleaned of us in an untoward manner.”
It was only then that Zak noticed the Elder Branches, almost huddling together in the way they sat, shoulders hunched, in the corner of the room. Next to them was Korrim, who had his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
“Please,” said Sarai. “There are many good reasons to allow this man to live. He’s… done nothing to us. He’s offered no violence, he’s cooperative, he—”
“He looks like your brother,” said the God of Trees. “It makes your judgement weak and compromised.”
He took another deep breath, and this time, Zak was sure he could feel the grass rustling up against his ankles, moving in response to the demigod’s vitality.
“Take him,” said the God of Trees.
The man nearest to Zak moved, tattoos around his neck and back flashing as he pulled loose a bramble branch from around his waist. Sarai moved with lightning speed, getting in under his guard and breaking his arm at the elbow.
Someone shouted out in surprise, and more men approached from either side. Zak felt his heart sink as he ran the numbers. There were too many of them, even in a perfect world where freedom lay directly on the other side of the door.
“Really, now.” Iathia appeared, speaking not to Zak, but directly to the God of Trees. “Is this any way to treat a guest?”
The God of Trees blinked once, and then a smile spread across his face, his heavily chapped lips looking more like rough bark than flesh.
“Hold,” said the God of Trees. “Step back from them. There is no reason why this needs to come to immediate violence.”
The men around Zak and Sarai stepped back. Sarai spun around, looking bewildered and a little panicked.
“Thank you,” said Iathia. She stood with her chin lifted, arms crossed underneath her breasts. “Now, if we could have a little bit of privacy, I’m sure the two of us could be much more productive with our words.”
“You can’t kill me,” said the God of Trees. “And I can’t kill you. Is that not where we stand?”
Iathia grinned in response. The God of Trees sniffed once, pulling shoots of grass in his direction him from all around the room.
“Empty the chamber,” he said, nodding to the Elder Branches. “Nobody is allowed within a hundred paces of the entrance until I’ve come to my decision.”
The Elder Branches blinked, all five of them hesitating, as though each was expecting another to speak on their behalf.
“Now!” shouted the God of Trees. The entire chamber, including the trees twisted into walls, rumbled. Zak and Sarai hurried outside with the men who’d brought them in, followed by Korrim and the Elder Branches.
They stood a distance down the path, waiting in silence. Zak glanced around, noting the confusion on everyone’s faces. He was confused, too, but for different reasons.
The God of Trees can see Iathia, or at least hear her, he thought. What does that imply?
Several long minutes went by. Zak’s heart pounded in his chest, and the more he thought about what the two were discussing, the more it made him expect death in the near future. Iathia was a cunning woman, and Zak wasn’t sure if it would come as a surprise to him to discover that he’d been double crossed upon returning to the archchamber.
“Return!” shouted the God of Trees, his voice seeming to emanate from the nearby trees. “You may reenter the archchamber.”
Everyone filed back in. Iathia stood next to the door, looking pleased with herself. The God of Trees also looked satisfied. He nodded as Zak and Sarai approached the center of the room.
“The infidel will be allowed to take the questright,” he said. “The original judgement will stand.”
Korrim burst forward, almost joining Zak and Sarai where they stood. He glared at Zak, the expression mixed with so much venom that it made what Zak had gone through with the bramble branch seem like a scratch.
“That is all,” said the God of Trees.
Zak and Sarai turned and left the archchamber, this time unaccompanied. Sarai stared at Zak in confusion as they followed the path back down to her hut.
“What just happened?” she whispered.
Zak shook his head slightly, trying to look mystified.
“I’m still alive,” he said. “That’s all I care about.”
They reached Sarai’s hut on the edge of the shore and headed inside. Sarai was silent for a few seconds, watching him in the blue moonlight and saying nothing.
“There is something different about you,” she said.
Zak sighed.
“We’ve been through this already,” he said. “Sarai, I’m not your—”
“I know that,” she said, sharply. “That’s not what I mean.”
She took a few steps toward him, reaching out one hand and setting it on his shoulder. Her violet eyes locked onto his, searching his pupils as though she could see what was behind them.
“Tell me,” she whispered. “What are you keeping from me?”
Iathia appeared behind Sarai, smiling slightly and shaking her head.
“Don’t say anything,” she said. “You’ll regret it if you do.”
“Sarai…” said Zak.
“If you tell her,” said Iathia, raising her voice, “it will guarantee her death.”
Zak broke eye contact, looking at the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Oddly, that seemed to satisfy her. She took a step forward and pulled him into a soft hug. It wasn’t like the one she’d given him before, after he’d spoken for the first time. It wasn’t the one meant for Connal, her brother in life, and his brother in appearance. It was a personal hug, meant for Zakarias of Arkaia.
“Come,” she said. “Let’s eat, and then sleep. It will take the day for us to reach the forest wall tomorrow.”
Zak nodded. Sarai started to turn away from him, but he pulled her back into the hug, and planted a gentle kiss on her head. Her hair smelled like fresh cut flowers.
“Thank you,” he said.
CHAPTER 44
ZAK
Zak slept on the bedroll spread on Sarai’s floor for the night. Part of him wanted to share her bed a second time, but the mood was different, somber. In the morning, the two of them ate a large, quiet breakfast. Zak put his sword belt back on, feeling whole again with Aetheredge’s weight hanging at his side.
“I have something for you,” said Sarai. She reached into one of the bags hanging from the inside of the hut and pulled out a sleeve of intricately woven cloth. Zak looked at it blankly as she handed it to him.
“What is it?” he asked. The cloth was deep green in color, made of tough fabric unlike anything Zak had felt before. It stretched underneath his fingertips, and one of the openings was wider than the other.
“Pull it over your forearm,” said Sarai. “Here, like this.”
She slid it onto Zak’s right arm, almost as though it were part of an extended glove, just without a section for his hand. Then, she reached back into one of her sacks and pulled something out that Zak recognized at a glance.
