The fall of Highwatch

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The woods tangled around them. Hweilan had never seen such trees, had never imagined such trees. Most grew no more than a few dozen feet, but hardly any grew up. Trunks twisted, turned, bent sideways, and smaller ones even wrapped around their larger neighbors. Deep winter as it was, still dark green leaves grew in abundance, so thick that they had blocked out nearly all the snow-and every trace of star- and moonlight.

Hweilan kept a firm grip on Menduarthis's arm and trusted that her feet would find their own way in the dark. She made it no more than twenty steps into the wood before striking a root or low branch and falling, almost pulling Menduarthis on top of her.

Menduarthis let her go, said, "A moment," and Hweilan could hear him searching his pockets.

Light bloomed, blue and cold, no brighter than a small candle, but in the nearly impenetrable gloom of the wood it seemed very bright to Hweilan's eyes. It shone forth from a round crystal, no larger than an owl's egg, that Menduarthis held in one hand.

In the near distance, an elf's voice cried out in a defiant battle cry, then rose into an agonized shriek.

"Move, girl!" Menduarthis pulled her to her feet and they plunged onward.

The land began to climb almost at once. The trees grew larger and even more tangled the farther they went, but Menduarthis always seemed to find a path-ducking under the great arch of a branch, pushing their way through the leaves; finding narrow paths that snaked among the branches; sometimes even running along broad trunks that grew along the ground, like slightly curved roads.

"Careful," said Menduarthis, and Hweilan soon saw why.

They were walking along the wide bole of a tree, but the ground fell away beneath them, the tree forming a natural bridge across a ravine. The sky opened above them, giving enough light for Hweilan to see that the cut in the ground was not that wide, and no more than thirty or forty feet deep. But the trees down there had been choked by vines covered with wicked thorns.

When they reached the other side and stepped off the tree, Menduarthis stopped and turned. Over the sounds of their heavy breathing, they listened for pursuit. Nothing.

Still, that nagging weight, that sense of dread pulsed in Hweilan's mind. It had lessened somewhat in their flight from the frozen river, but now that they'd stopped again…

"We need to keep going," said Hweilan.

"Half a moment," said Menduarthis. He pulled her behind him. "And hang on to something."

He stood away from the tree and threw back his cloak. He began waving his arms and hands in an intricate motion, faster and faster. Wind rushed past them, snapping branches and toppling smaller trees in its path.

It struck the tree-bridge. Roots broke and came up with such force that dirt exploded dozens of feet into the air, and the tree itself shattered in the middle. The wind died, and the broken tree fell into the ravine with a crash that shook the ground.

"That should throw off the pursuit," said Menduarthis.

Hweilan wasn't so sure.

More and more vines-their thorns ranging from small, almost furlike protrusions along the creepers to long thorns thick as nails on the stalks-crawled through the trees as Hweilan and Menduarthis climbed the final slope. But the trees themselves didn't seem to suffer. The foliage, rather than lessening, grew even thicker, and in some places Hweilan felt that their path was walled in by leaves and thorns. Menduarthis's light began to catch bits of white in the air. At first, Hweilan thought that it was snowing again, and some few flakes had managed to find their way through the canopy. But no. They were tiny moths, their wings white as new frost. How they managed to survive the cold, Hweilan had no idea. The close air of the woods was warmer than it had been out on the frozen river, but it was still cold enough for Hweilan's breath to steam before her.

Menduarthis stopped, their path seemingly ending in a great tangle of thorns. One hand grasping the little light stone, he turned and looked at Hweilan.

"This gets tricky here," he said. "Once again, you must trust me."

"Trust you how?" she said.

With the hand holding the light, he pointed at the wall of thorns before them. "This is our way."

The vines looked tough as wire, their thorns sharp as wasps' stingers. Even the leaves looked sharp. "You can't be serious," she said.

"Trust me. You'll be safe as a babe in her cradle as long as you keep moving forward. Don't stop. Don't slow. And whatever you do, do not move backward. As long as you move forward, these creepers are all bark, no bite. Soft as feathers. Stop or try to move backward… well, the only thing that'll get you out then is fire, and I don't think you'd like that much."

"Wh-what if I fall?"

"Don't."

She looked back. There was no other way.

"I'll go first," said Menduarthis. "But Hweilan, once I'm in, I can't come back for you. You understand?"

She swallowed hard and nodded.

Menduarthis pushed forward into the vines. They parted before him like smooth waters before a ship, then rustled shut behind him, thick as iron bars. He'd taken the light. Darkness engulfed Hweilan.

"Come along," he called, and she could hear the rustling of his movement.

Hweilan held her father's bow close, pulled her hood down as far as it would go, huddled in the cloak, and pressed forward. Even through all her layers of clothing, she could feel the vines. Not like wire at all. More like… snakes. They slithered and undulated around her as she moved forward, the thorns bending, pliable and harmless as feathers, just as Menduarthis had said. Unable to see anything, Hweilan squeezed her eyes shut and pushed onward, step by careful step.

She could still hear Menduarthis ahead.

"How much farther?" she called.

"Not long," he said. "Keep moving!"

She kept moving. Once, the bow caught on a particularly thick branch, and for one terrified moment, caught. Stifling a scream, Hweilan pushed hard. The bow broke through, and the branch snapped back, striking her in the face. Her hood caught most of the blow, but she still felt the branch brush across her nose and cheek. The thick autumnal scent hit her, but the thorns didn't even scratch, and she pressed onward.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her mind concentrating solely on forward, forward, forward, a slow panic began to rise in Hweilan. To fight it, she began counting her steps.

At forty-seven, another vine struck her face, harder this time. Still, the thorns brushed off her skin, but it startled her so that for an instant her step faltered. The vine's thorns stiffened, catching in her hood. A low moan escaped her throat and she surged forward. The thorns caught in her hood, pulling it off her head. She kept going. She heard fabric tearing, then she was through. The feel of the vines and leaves against her face sent her stomach churning, but she pressed on, even faster this time.

"Hweilan?" Menduarthis called, and she could hear the concern in his voice.

"Right behind you. How much farther?"

"Not long."

"You said that. Quite long ago, I'm certain."

"Keep moving."

She took a breath to scream at him, but a sound cut her off. Laughter. Light and gleeful. Almost childish. And very close.

Hweilan opened her eyes. Still she walked in darkness, vines and leaves and thorns thick about her, but she saw eyes watching her. Not the pale blue of the uldra. These eyes glowed verdant green. Two pairs of eyes off to her right, and one very close on her left. Just out of reach, in fact. Seeing her watching them, the watchers laughed, and the eyes were gone.

"Menduarthis!" Hweilan called, panic rising in her voice.

"Keep moving."

"There's something in here with us!"

"Many somethings," said Menduarthis. "Keep moving. We're almost through."

"Curse you, Menduarthis, how much far-?"

She shrieked as she fell forward into open air.

Menduarthis sat on a boulder a few paces away. The vine-wrapped trees still twisted all around them, but the light from Menduarthis's stone showed a small grove with paths branching off in several directions. He gave her a sheepish smile. "Not long," he said.

Then the thorns around them moved, and Hweilan saw that many of them were not thorns at all. At least a dozen figures closed in on them. Some stood on the ground, while others crouched on the thicker branches of the surrounding trees. They stood no taller than uldra, but their skin was green as moss, their meager clothing made up entirely of leaves. They had very narrow chins, almost pointed, tiny noses, and their sharp ears swept back, framed by thick brown or reddish hair that stood off their heads in lanky points. Theirs were the eyes she'd seen. Most held bows, arrows nocked and ready, but one held a sword of sorts in both hands. At least Hweilan thought it was a sword. There was no steel or metal. The entire thing-blade, hilt, handle-seemed made entirely of stiff vines, hundreds of sharp thorns sprouting off the blade.

"No sudden moves," said Menduarthis in Damaran. "Most of them know at least a little Common, so guard your words. Let me speak to them."

"Speak so I can understand you, Menduarthis," the creature with the sword said in Common.

"Forgive me, Grilga. This one"-he pointed to Hweilan-"knows little Common, and none of our speech."

"And who is this one?"

"A captive taken in my last hunt."

"The one who traveled with the Vil Adanrath?"

"That one, yes."

Grilga looked at Hweilan, his eyes narrowing in what she thought was a scowl. "And why is she here now?"

"Kunin Gatar ordered me to let her go."

Grilga's eyes widened, and he looked at Menduarthis. "Let her go?"

"I believe "Get that creature out of my sight' were her exact words."

"Gods' truth?"

"Gods' truth," said Menduarthis.

"Then why not kill her?"

"Had Kunin Gatar wanted her dead, I'm sure she would have said so-or done it herself. You know as well as I that our beloved queen is seldom unclear on such matters."

The other creatures giggled at this.

"I see blood all over her," said Grilga. "And I smell it on you, Menduarthis. Elf blood. Explain."

"You heard the horns?" said Menduarthis.

"We did. You have news?"

"On the way here, the girl and I met Tirron's riders on the ice. While we were… having words"-at this, a few of the creatures laughed softly-"we were attacked. By two. One was a Frost Folk warrior. The other… some vile thing I have never seen before. Whether they were the entire invading force or only part, I don't know. But Tirron's riders"-Menduarthis shuddered-"they couldn't stop the thing."

A collective gasp rustled through the group. Even Grilga seemed caught up in the tale.

"I took the girl and ran," said Menduarthis. "I can't be sure, but I think these invaders, whoever they may be, are after her."

All eyes turned to her, and several pulled their bowstrings to a half draw.

Hweilan looked back into the wall of thorns. The weight in her mind was growing heavier again, the pulsing alarm faster.

"Then I ask you again," said Grilga, "why not kill her?"

"Marauders invade our realm," Menduarthis said, anger in his voice, "kill our people, defy our queen, and you suggest we give them what they want? Besides, Kunin Gatar ordered her gone. Until Kunin Gatar orders otherwise, I hear and obey."

Hweilan watched the creatures. They glanced at one another, and every one pointedly avoided looking at Grilga, whose scowl deepened. It struck her how magnificent a liar Menduarthis really was. Everything he'd just told them was the truth. Every word. But the many words he'd left out made all the difference. It made her very glad that she'd insisted on seeing Lendri for herself. Menduarthis had been wounded defending her, and was even now committing treachery against his queen. She had no reason to doubt he was helping her. But why? I'm bored, he'd told her, starting to feel dead. True? Perhaps. But what truths was he keeping from her?

"If Tirron's people couldn't stop this thing," said Grilga, "and if it is hunting her, then where is it? And what of the Frost warrior?"

"I dealt with that one," said Menduarthis. "The other…" He shuddered. "I don't know. I destroyed the Byway Bridge. I'm sorry. I had to. But for all I know, that thing is on its way here right now."

The creatures all went very quiet. They cast furtive glances over their shoulders into the surrounding woods.

"What is this thing?" said Grilga.

Menduarthis glanced at Hweilan, then said, "I don't know. I've never seen its like. He seemed like a man-taller than me, but much stronger. A very formidable-looking fellow. Human by the looks. But I saw him take an arrow and a spear in his body-wounds that would have killed any creature with sense enough to die-and it barely slowed him. He ripped off an elf's arm with his bare hands."

The creatures all looked to their leader. Grilga stood straight, puffing up all of his three-foot height, and said, "Nothing comes through the thornway without our knowing."

The pounding in her head felt like iron hammers now. It was closing in.

She opened her mouth to tell Menduarthis, when hundreds-hundreds of thousands-of the tiny white moths poured out of the thorns, like a fluttering geyser.

Grilga shouted orders. The creatures-all but one-split into groups and shot back into the thorns, quick as squirrels. Hweilan had no idea how they navigated the deadly tangle, but the branches closed around them, the leaves rustled a moment, and they were gone.

Grilga looked at Hweilan, seemed to weigh her in his mind, then said, "My folk will do what we can, but I won't spend their lives on this one. Get her out of here."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said Menduarthis.

Grilga took what looked like a long, thin bone from his belt, set it to his lips, and blew. Hweilan heard nothing, but a shudder seemed to pass through the branches.

"The way is open to you, Menduarthis," he said. "Move fast."