Heartwood (11 page)

There were few who had not been injured in some way, and many had died of their wounds in the hours that had already passed since the attack. Those who were still alive were being treated in the Hospitium by the Hanairean High Council member, Fionnghuala, who was skilled in herbs and medicines.

The dead had been taken to the Sepulchrum in front of the Arbor, and left there for the tree to take them in. It had done so, slowly, its roots creeping over the bodies, bringing them into its depths, and those gathered around it had taken some comfort at the fact that it seemed to rejuvenate a little, and maybe the remaining leaves seemed a little less limp afterwards. But Valens had not been able to take his eyes off the massive rent down the centre of the trunk, and the gaping hole in the middle. With its heart taken, how could the Arbor, and therefore the land, hope to survive?

Standing now, looking down on the people moving slowly around the Baillium, despondency swept over him. His role as Imperator was to protect Heartwood and its people, and in this he had failed. He had failed Dulcis, who as Abbatis looked to him to keep Heartwood safe; he had failed Procella, his student, who looked up to him and who had believed him infallible; and he had failed himself, for he had always thought himself invincible, able to overcome any opponent, any army, any enemy, and he realised now he had grossly misjudged his ability.

Footsteps sounded on the stone behind him and he spun, hand to his sword, but it was just Procella, and so he let his hand drop and turned back to look out at the view.

She walked up beside him and leaned on the parapet, looking around at the walls. “I have sorted out the guard,” she said. “Thirteen Custodes are dead. I told a third of the remainder to snatch some sleep and stationed the others around the Baillium and in the Castellum. I have also pulled in some of the Exercitus to take the place of those who have fallen.”

Valens nodded. He thought, but didn't say, what was the point of guarding the Castellum now? The Arbor was crippled. Anything they did now was too late. The words “stable door” and “bolted” came to mind.

He sighed and looked over at her. Her brown hair remained twisted in a knot at the base of her neck, but wisps had escaped and hung around her face in light curls. She looked tired but alert, and didn't appear to have suffered any injuries in the battle. She was a good warrior, he thought; the best, a truly deserving heir to the Dux, and she had served him well. He felt ashamed he had failed her.

She turned to meet his gaze, and for the first time she looked uncertain. Her brown eyes looked down hesitantly, then back up at him, beseeching. “I… I want to apologise, Imperator, for failing you. I should have been more prepared for something like this; I should have increased the guard on the Arbor. I truly thought the threat to be more between Wulfengar and Laxony – it did not enter my head there might be danger from outside Heartwood. But a Dux should always be ready for anything, and I was not. I am sorry for letting you down.”

Valens stared at her. Her gaze was open and honest; she thought she had made a bad tactical decision, and she was ready to accept the consequences. He had taught her well.

A wry smile twisted his lips. “It is I who has failed you,” he said softly. “Some leader I have been – allowing a major invasion in the very place I have sworn to protect – the heart of Heartwood!” He sighed. “In truth, I know, neither of us is to blame. This is not something we could have foreseen. Of course our attention was on the very proximity of the Laxony and Wulfengar visitors – why would it not have been? And the invaders obviously knew that would be the case. Why should we have prepared otherwise? How could we have guessed warriors were going to rise from the water?” He frowned, shaking his head. “How is that possible? I cannot go to the meeting, Procella, for I have no answers, nothing to say. How can I lead when I do not know from where the threat is coming?”

“That is one reason I came up to find you.” She laid her hand lightly on his arm. “I have just seen Chonrad – he and Nitesco have found a cave underneath the Armorium. Nitesco has uncovered an old document, so old it predates Oculus. And he says it holds many of the answers, not only to what has happened today, but to what has been happening to the land.”

“Truly?” Hope stirred within his chest. He looked down at the Baillium. The clean-up crews were doing a good job; much of the debris – the broken pieces of wood, ripped tents, broken plates and damaged food – had been removed and the bodies had been taken in to the Temple. People were now heading towards the Castellum, and word had obviously spread that there was news, for he could see their pace had quickened, and their faces had lightened.

He breathed in deeply, looking up to see the Lamb Moon hovering above the horizon, the Dark Moon now high in the sky and fading in the early morning sunlight. “I fear for the future, Procella,” he admitted. It was not something he would have confessed to anyone else.

She tipped her head, studying him. “Why so?”

He shivered, an early morning breeze ruffling his grey hair. “We are poised on the knife edge of change. I am…” He could not bring himself to say “frightened”. “Concerned,” he chose eventually. “Though wars come and go, there are certain things that remain stable, that you can rely on.” He slapped his hand on the parapet. “This is rock; it is hard; it will not yield to my hand. And water is water, it is liquid, it takes only the form of that in which it is placed, like a bowl. How can it take the shape of a warrior?”

Procella shrugged. “I am no philosopher; I do not understand these things. But you have just said that water takes the form of its container; maybe these beings can temporarily acquire bodies, and their watery form takes their shape.” She smiled and held out her hand. “Come, Valens. We shall do no good debating the issue up here. We need to speak to those who are skilled in such matters; we need great thinkers, and people to help us plan what to do next.”

“People like Lord Barle?” Valens said impishly. He laughed as she turned her startled gaze on him. “He is a good man. I have known him for some time; he came and fought with us during the Raids of the Falling, five years ago. He is strong, and clever, and kind.”

“And I am Militis,” she said sharply. “We should not be talking thus.”

“As you wish.” He bowed his head as she walked away to the stairs. He half regretted his words; he had not meant to make her uncomfortable. It was harder for female Militis, he thought. Most male Militis had sexual encounters throughout their life, but it was easy to remain detached. But women had the risk of becoming pregnant, which would mean they would have to leave Heartwood. And Heartwood was in Procella's blood – she was a knight, she was Militis through and through. He recalled the look on her face when they had found the tree split in half, its heart gone. She was not made for hearth and home, and he knew she would not succumb to mere physical attraction.

 

II

The meeting was to be held in the Capitulum. They could have gone to the Curia again, but for the Militis the Capitulum was comforting and familiar.

Chonrad watched everyone enter the room. First in were the twins, Gravis and Gavius. They had been moving the bodies to the Arbor all night. Chonrad had averted his eyes when he walked through the Temple to the Capitulum. There was something that disturbed him about the tree when it was feeding.

After the twins came the two Council members of Hanaire that were left – Fionnghuala, who had been busy in the Hospitium, tending to the wounded, and a man, Bearrach, both of them tall with shoulder-length blond hair, their movements elegant and graceful. They nodded to Chonrad before taking their seats on the stone steps around the edge. Chonrad had spoken to them briefly when he returned from the Domus. They had been considering returning to Hanaire before the meeting, eager to sort out their domestic affairs now two other Council members were dead. Chonrad had dissuaded them from leaving, however, convincing them this was not just a Heartwood matter, and not just an eastern matter either; the loss of the Pectoris would have lasting consequences on all four lands, and they would want to be a part of the decision of how to deal with matters. In the end they had agreed, if somewhat reluctantly, and now took their places along with the others.

From Wulfengar, only Grimbeald had survived out of the original five lords, as Raedwald had died during the night. He came in hesitantly, with a couple of his followers, clearly conscious they were the only Wulfians in the place. At least he had come, thought Chonrad, and he admired the lord's courage at walking into a room full of what he had probably been brought up to believe were all enemies.

From Laxony, as well as himself, there were Kenweard of Frennon, Malgara of Dorle and Ogier of Hannon. All three came in and took their places on the stone seats.

Valens and Procella came in together, and then Dolosus with Beata. Chonrad was then surprised to see Silva enter. She had had her wound patched up and, though pale, she was obviously determined to take part in the discussions.

A few other surviving Militis he had not yet met filed in behind her and took their seats. There was a much more informal feeling to this meeting, Chonrad thought. The peoples of the three countries had been brought together by their misfortune. They made quite a sorry bunch; many had bandages around limbs and everyone looked tired, having been up all night. But they were all eager to hear what Nitesco had to say.

Fulco stood quietly beside him. Chonrad had sent him to the Hospitium to get his leg fixed and the bodyguard now had a large bandage around his thigh. He was still limping, but Chonrad knew there was nothing he could do to stop Fulco staying at his side now.

The young Libraris stood in the doorway, clutching the
Quercetum
to his chest. His eyes were wide and he looked nervous but calm, his eyes flicking around the room as he waited for everyone to seat themselves and quieten.

Seeing him standing there, Valens got to his feet and turned to address the room. “My friends,” he said, his hand taking in everyone present. “We experienced a terrible tragedy here yesterday. Many of our colleagues and family were killed and, as we know, Heartwood's Arbor has suffered the great loss of its Pectoris, taken by the warriors who attacked us.” He sighed. “I have no answers for you – I am as confused and alarmed by what happened here as the rest of you. But I understand Nitesco has uncovered something that might answer some of our Questions and I would now like to ask him to come forward and speak.” He turned and beckoned to the waiting Libraris.

Nitesco came forward to the podium at one side of the room and mounted the step. He laid the book he was carrying on the lectern and left it there for a moment, pages shut, his hands resting on top of the leather cover.

“My friends,” he began, then stopped as he obviously realised his voice was too soft. He cleared his throat and started again, his voice louder. “My friends. Like you, I was told the story of the Creation as a child. We all know this story because Oculus recorded it in his
Memoria
– his great work on Animus and the Arbor, which contains the stories he gathered through oral tradition after the Great Quake. The
Memoria
is the foundation of our religion – it is on this we base our rituals and our beliefs, and it is because of different interpretations of this that Wulfengar and Laxony have been bitter enemies for so long.

“However, yesterday the flood revealed a secret beneath Heartwood – the Cavus, a hidden room below the Armorium.” There were gasps from around the Capitulum from those who had not yet heard the news. Nitesco nodded. “The Cavus belonged to the time before the Castellum was built – to the first Temple created around the Arbor. I did not know of its existence and neither, I think, did Caecus. I believe it was buried in the Great Quake, and I do not think – from his writings – that Oculus knew of it either.” He shrugged. “Of course there has been speculation for centuries that old documents and artefacts lay hidden beneath the Castellum, but it has never been proven.”

“What is down there?” someone asked. “Treasures?”

Nitesco smiled. “For me, at least. There are mainly old books and documents.” His smile disappeared. “But they are so much more than that.”

He lifted the book lying on the lectern in front of him. “This is the Quercetum. It is not complete – it has suffered some damage, but there is enough left to answer many of our Questions about what happened during the attack yesterday. It predates Oculus, predates the first Temple, in fact. And it holds the truth of who we are and where we come from. I must warn you: the information it contains will shock many of you; it will change much of what we think about the Arbor, and Animus, and Oculus, and that will not be easy for us to accept.”

A general air of unease settled on the room. Chonrad was intrigued by what Nitesco had found out. What could possibly be in the book that was going to cause such an upset?

“I will read to you,” Nitesco said, “and I shall let the words speak for themselves.” He opened the front cover of the
Quercetum
, the leather cover creaking softly, the pages crackling as he smoothed them out. “The language is quite different from modern Heartwood,” he said, “and I shall have to translate, so please forgive me if I struggle at times with the meaning.

“‘The Chronicles of the Veriditas,'” he read. “‘Once, there were only the elements. Earth, fire, air and water they were, and together they made up the universe. At first, they only consisted of their purest structure, each as intangible as the other, existing in a nameless void of confusion.

“‘Slowly, however, the elements began to take form. They became the elementals: shadowy, ethereal beings that still bore the characteristics of their elements, creatures of the dirt, the wind, the heat and the wet. And, after an age spent in the Void, they were filled with hate for each other.