Heart Wood, page 12
Would Kass still have imagined that for him, if he’d known the truth? If he’d known it was all a big fucking lie? It was impossible to say, impossible to imagine, even now. For all Hen knew, Kass would’ve walked willingly into that back chamber of the See with the other Children of the Blood even if he’d known he’d end up a corpse. Because anything else would’ve been inconceivable.
“I’m sorry,” was all Hendrik could say. Because he didn’t want any of that, anymore. He didn’t want anything, especially, if he couldn’t have Kass. And he couldn’t. Because Kass wasn’t really here. “I love you. And I’m sorry.”
Not-Kass didn’t answer that, but he didn’t have to. Hendrik knew Kass had loved him, even if it hadn’t been enough to save either of them. And he wouldn’t want Hen to be sorry, even if sorrow was all Hen had left.
Part II: Dagan
Chapter 1: Black Walnut Grove Settlement, Heart Wood, New Buck Moon, Year of the Butterflies
Insects and birds chirping and the sweet-spicy smells of spring melting into summer welcomed Dagan home to the Black Walnut Grove. Bark and green, growing things nearing peak ripeness. He hefted his pack higher and ducked his head as he entered the settlement, hair sliding out of his braid to frame his face as it was wont to do when it needed a wash. The market square’s lanterns were flickering to life, inviting settlement-dwellers into the winery, the brewery, the shops and stalls that opened for supper. Some of the smells, especially cooking onions and herbs drifting from a central stall, were tempting. But days on the trail from the Head Scout’s home in Grassland Conservancy had him panting for a mug of elderberry wine and a night’s sleep on his own mattress.
Alas, it was not to be. Three steps into the market square, someone called, “Is that Dagan? You’re back! Look who’s home!”
Dagan took a deep breath, steeling himself to smile. By all the forest gods, he should’ve gone the long way around and straight to the grove. But he could almost taste his mother’s sweet wine, it was so near, now, and an extra fifteen minutes had seemed like a lifetime to wait for it. He’d been gone almost a moon, and he’d spend most of this moon out on his first official scouting trip. The least he could do was give the people what they wanted while he was here.
Hands clasped his shoulders, friendly and forward alike, and some even reached for his belt-pouch. “Oooh, look at the scout badge there!”
That puffed Dagan up a little. He swatted the hand away, which happened to belong to the blacksmith’s daughter, Mina, who was always good fun. “Darling Mina, you can tell your mother her finest blade will be in service to the Heart Wood officially starting next week,” he announced. The grin that followed felt less forced as he slipped into character. It was like a pair of leathers that used to fit but felt just a little too snug in the waist after a long and well-fed winter. Dagan could squeeze into it; it just wasn’t as comfortable as it used to be.
“Drinks for Dagan!” Mina cheered.
Dagan opened his mouth to tell her he was dead on his feet, but it was too late; a small crowd of good friends and other well-wishers had gathered in front of the winery to meet him. Not that he was a hero just because he’d finally finished years of training: learning how to fight, how to hide, how to interpret, how to lifecast, and all of it for the general health and wellbeing of their beloved and eternally peaceful Heart Wood. But it was so kind of them to want to welcome him back like one, Dagan didn’t have the heart to tell them no.
Maybe just one drink, then. To show he appreciated the sentiment.
Four drinks later, Dagan was regaling the small and drunken crowd with tales of his scouting trials. “And then, she came up behind me, thinking she could take out my knees. But I whirled on her!” He demonstrated without swaying on his feet at all, thank you very much. “Got her into a lock, like this! And then—”
“And then you kissed her!” someone shouted.
Dagan sighed and tried to look annoyed. “No. Unfortunately, that wasn’t part of the trial, whoever said—” But a real smile spread across his face when he saw who’d been speaking. “Thad! What are you doing here?”
“Came to see the newest scout from my conservancy off on his first mission.” Thad, a short, handsome man with rugged features and a perpetual stubble about his sharp jawline, came forward with his hand over his heart. “You’ve grown up, Dagan.”
Dagan returned the gesture as the little party, which had been at rapt attention throughout his impromptu oration, finally broke up. Dagan’s shoulders slumped with relief as he returned Thad’s greeting, thumping his own knuckles over his heart twice to let him know how sincerely it was felt. He grabbed his mug of inferior wine and rounded the bar.
Thad met him halfway and pulled him into a one-armed hug, which Dagan returned happily. Dagan asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be with the Council in the Paw Paw Grove Conservancy for the Buck Moon?”
“Yes, but it’s not every day we get a new scout, so I got special dispensation,” Thad said.
Dagan frowned. Wait, had he been serious? “Really?”
“Yes.” Thad laughed and clapped him on the back once more before letting him go. “Damnation, Dagan, it doesn’t happen every day.”
“Well, no, but—thanks.” Dagan blinked a few times. It was one thing for his friends at the winery, who’d spent many a long evening trading stories and drinks and kisses with him, to want to intercept him. But for the conservancy’s representative to the Grand Council of the Heart Wood to come to see him… “I’m honored.”
Thad was young for a councilor, young enough that Dagan considered flirting with him. It was usually what people expected, especially in this party atmosphere. But before he could get too in his head about it, Thad took his arm and pulled him back around the bar and into a quiet corner. “I hear there’s going to be a real party the night before you leave.”
“Tiber and Helen arranged it, I think,” Dagan said with a laugh. Two of his older siblings, they were the most socially active in the family—after him—in very different ways.
“And I hear Alonza’s coming back for it.”
“Is he?” Dagan raised his eyebrows at that, heart in his throat. His oldest brother was usually far too self-important to visit the Black Walnut grove. “Will we finally get to meet his new partner, too?”
“Jessica said as much, anyhow.”
As Head Verder of the Heart Wood, and Alonza’s master, she would know. “I had no idea my name was talked about in such high circles,” Dagan joked weakly.
“I’ll let him tell you the details, but I wanted to invite you to the Wildcrafter Settlement after the New Grain Moon,” Thad said quietly, as if confiding a secret. “The Council will be there, and we’ll want to know what you and the other scouts see out there. First-hand.”
“Something’s going on?” Dagan guessed. Bartolo and the others hadn’t mentioned it at the trials.
Thad nodded and opened his mouth to reply, but someone threw their arms around Dagan from behind. “Come on, Dagan!” said a low, rumbling voice that belonged to his favorite burly forester, Marsh. “Drinking contest, and you’re the judge!”
Dagan shot Thad an apologetic look, but Thad was grinning, chin up. He waved Dagan off. “I’ll see you at the party, if not before.”
“Love to the family,” Dagan said, wishing he could stay and talk quietly with Thad, who, come to think of it, had never once tried to flirt with him. The age difference was there, of course, but it was nothing to signify now that Dagan was old enough to go scouting. Maybe he wasn’t into boys?
“They’ll be delighted,” Thad assured him before turning back to a small cluster of older folks at the bar.
Dagan fought down disappointment that the elderly contingent hadn’t shown any interest in keeping his company, since that felt more his speed right then. Alas, he had a drinking contest to judge.
To get him through this arduous task, Dagan drank a few more mugs of wine himself and nearly fell asleep in his chair until Mina brought him a plate of dried venison with berry compote and walnut bread to fortify him. As if he hadn’t been gone for weeks, the usual rhythms of the winery at night swept Dagan away, lulling him into a haze of drink and amiable companionship. By the time he tripped out into the market square again, orange light had begun to filter through the breaks in the forest canopy, heralding a new morning. His foot caught awkwardly on the step.
Thad grabbed his arm before Dagan could go ass-over-teapot. His moonlight-silver eyes shone in the morning light, squinting with affection. “Need help home, then?” he asked.
“Are you flirting with me?” Dagan asked, resting a hand against Thad’s forearm.
“With you half passed-out? I wouldn’t,” Thad said agreeably.
“Ah, I see you recognize a fellow weary traveler,” Dagan joked, suddenly feeling foolish for asking. Of course, Thad, member of the Great Council, wasn’t flirting with him. By all the forest gods, what had he been thinking? Just because everyone else did…
Thad shook his head, smiling hugely. “Even if I was, I’ve had far too much to drink to follow through.”
Dagan leaned over and whispered, “If you want the truth, me too.”
“Oh, good, then!” Thad chuckled and handed Dagan his pack. “You left that on the bench.”
Dagan stared at it for a moment, amazed. “Some scout I am.”
Thad patted his back. “You’ve earned some celebration. And that was a long walk. Just made it myself.”
“They don’t give councilors ponies?”
“Oh, no, not the junior ones like me, anyhow.” Thad chuckled. “Come on, I’ll get you back to your mother. She’ll be worried by now.”
This was likely true on the one hand, seeing as Dagan was meant to be home before supper. It was also likely that, after a few hours of tardiness, his mother and father and all of his siblings still living at home would have assumed he’d stopped in at the winery and gone home with someone from there, never to be found until morning.
Which, well, that last part was true, anyhow, if not the bit about going home with someone. Dagan was almost proud of himself for a moment. “Thad, you are a giant among councilors. That said, I’ve made this particular drunken walk plenty of times without incident in my life, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He glanced around, toward a small knot of people, Mina included, who may or may not have been watching him. Waiting for him.
Dagan cleared his throat. It had been a triumphant return home so far. No point ruining it with a half-assed sexual exploit now, was there? “Though,” he added, “I’d be grateful if you could walk with me to the end of the market.”
Thad looked over his own shoulder toward the knot of young people, frowning. When he turned his sharp gaze back to Dagan, there was a question in it.
Dagan just smiled as brightly as he could. “Don’t want anyone thinking I need an escort,” he half-lied.
“Ah, well, yes, then. Glad to help.” Thad started walking.
Dagan followed, heaving his pack onto his back and checking that his pouch, official scout badge and all, was still in place. He’d made quite enough of an ass of himself in front of his betters for one night, thanks very much. No need to compound the offenses.
*
“Oh, you’re home after all!”
Dagan opened one eye, prepared to tell whoever it was to fuck right off. He couldn’t have slept more than two hours, and everything was so bright.
Iason, the eldest of Dagan’s siblings still living at home, leapt onto his bed. They wore their loose shirt and shorts as if they’d just crawled out of their own bed, and yet they were chirpy as a lovebird. “You’re home!” they shouted. “We didn’t hear you come in. Nika said you were probably waylaid by someone who wanted a lay.”
Dagan reached up and covered Iason’s mouth with one hand. “Too much talking.”
Iason batted his hand away and giggled. They were slight, long-limbed, and ethereal in body; Dagan was shorter, but he could take them. He said, “I will wrestle you to the ground if you don’t stop chirping at me.”
Iason bounced off the bed. “Fine! Missed you too!” And then they flounced out of the little room.
Ah yes, good to be home again. What was life without the chaos of a massive, rowdy, busy family? There were 10 children in the family, in all, with Dagan directly in the middle of the birth order. Technically, he still lived at home, which made him the oldest there, but practically he was gone for moons at a time for training. And now for scouting.
Real, actual scouting. He’d done it. Four years of his life, working, learning, hoping. Soon, it’d be just him and the forest.
By the forest gods, that sounded so peaceful. He could hardly wait, and he’d only just returned home.
“Dags!” someone yelled from the common room. “You’re home? Get out here for breakfast!”
Dagan groaned and stretched. His calves were sore; ugh, had he danced last night? Felt like he’d danced. He should’ve come home, drank a bucket of water, and eaten a good meal, but no. He’d been an idiot, instead.
He was getting too old for this. Sure, 20 wasn’t that old, but on mornings like this it felt old.
“Dagan!” someone else yelled.
“Coming!” He rolled out of bed and pulled on a clean shirt. The grime of the forest path felt like a second skin, but a bath would have to wait. “I’m coming, already!”
When he emerged into the common room, Iason was already dressed and playing board games with Nika. Nika abandoned the game to hug Dagan, saying, “We missed you!”
“Missed you too,” he told them as he pulled back. Were they still growing? “I swear you’re taller.”
“I wish,” they laughed. “Mother has breakfast ready. She just made strawberry preserves and everything.”
At that, Dagan began to feel a little more awake. He ducked into the kitchen, a huge space, always warm and full of people and food. Korina, another teenage sibling, carried a plate of some kind of flat cakes stacked high in one hand. She paused to kiss his cheek as she passed on her way to the common room. “Morning, Dags!”
The rich, sweet smell of nut meal and honey followed her, and Dagan’s stomach rumbled loudly.
“My sweet boy, there you are.” His mother, a pleasantly round, beautiful woman—though he may have been biased, seeing as he had her eyes—came to him with hands outstretched.
Dagan took them and leaned in to kiss her. She smelled of honey and berries and a million good things that instantly set him at ease. “I hear there’s strawberry preserves?”
“So single-minded.” She patted his face and went up on her toes.
He ducked so she could kiss his forehead. She was a few inches shorter than him, and he was no giant, himself. “I’ve been accused of that before, but not about preserves.”
Another pat to the cheek and a little cluck of her tongue, “Tsk,” and she laughed. “I’ve missed your face.”
It might’ve seemed unlikely, seeing as she had five other children still living at home, not to mention the older four scattered around the conservancy nearby. Only Alonza had moved away, and that must’ve been over a decade ago, by now. But Dagan believed her, anyhow, because his mother was the single most affectionate human he’d ever known; if anyone could have enough love for ten children, it was certainly her. “I missed yours too,” he said with a smile. “Can I help?”
She placed a large wooden platter laden with fresh bread and the coveted preserves in his hands and patted him on the butt to send him back into the common room.
As each other member of the household appeared around the table, they greeted and hugged Dagan: father, then Alexia and Erron, the youngest in the family. Finally, when they were all gathered, everyone tore into the flat cakes, preserves, fruit, and bread, and of course pot after pot of mint tea to go around. Dagan, still exhausted from last night but content as he’d ever been, sipped his tea and nibbled his cakes and preserves quietly, letting the chaos and noise of home wash over him pleasantly, like a light, refreshing rain on a hot day.
Long after they finished breakfast, the siblings sat around the table, catching Dagan up on the gossip he’d missed while out on the trail. They were only interrupted by a knock at the door, which seemed to send them all in different directions. Korina and Iason jumped up to help Mother and Father clean the kitchen, while Nika, Alexia, and Erron darted off to whatever projects they had for the day—Alexia and Erron, in particular, whispering a little frantically. What were they up to? Probably nothing good. They rarely were.
Dagan, who had nowhere to be and nothing to do, thankfully, just wanted to go back to bed. Instead, he answered the door.
Mina stood on the step, pretty in a bright yellow vest and skirt, hair braided neatly over both shoulders.
“Hello, sweetness.” Dagan smiled and stepped back, gesturing to invite her in. “We’ve just finished breakfast, but we didn’t entirely demolish the bread and preserves, if you’re interested.”
“Actually, I wondered if we could go for a walk?” she asked.
Dagan longed for his feather pillow…and yet, she looked so sweet and hopeful, all wide-eyed and morning-bright. “Let me put on pants,” he said. “Come and sit—have some tea?”
“No, thank you.” She sat on the little lounge by the window, hands folded in her lap, the picture of patience.
As quickly as possible, Dagan retreated, pulled on clean leathers, and tucked in his shirt, lamenting that he hadn’t time to take a bath first, too. Oh well, he’d just have to wash this shirt with his road clothes. Quickly, he undid his hair and combed it, then re-braided it over his shoulder neatly. Not too bad, he supposed, for someone who’d had three hours of sleep and a hangover.
Mina at his side, he swept out into the black walnut grove that gave the conservancy its name, its main crop, though plenty of other nuts, fruits, and vegetables grew wild and cultivated all over. His family had minded this grove for as long as anyone remembered, and one of his siblings would take it over when his parents decided to retire in a decade or so. As they passed beneath certain trees, Dagan reached out to run his fingers over their bark in greeting, murmuring prayers to the forest gods under his breath.
