Heartwood (61 page)

They all went around the outer circle and through the temporary Infirmaria where Silva was tending to some of the wounded, to the doors leading to the Domus. They had been well sealed and were at that moment heavily guarded. Everyone prepared themselves in case the Darkwater Lords were waiting outside. But when the doors were opened a crack, there was nothing there.

“When you return, give three long knocks, two short and three long,” said Valens. “That will be the code to let you in.”

Fionnghuala and Bearrach nodded. Then, without a sound, they slipped through, and the doors were shut behind them.

Chonrad and Procella exchanged a glance. “What do we do now?” he asked wryly, feeling strangely useless.

“Wait,” she said simply. She looked over at the Arbor. “Walk with me.”

He didn't really want to go closer to the Arbor, but he did want to spend some time with the Dux, and so he followed her as she crossed the outer ring and the dry channel to the inner ring beyond. They stopped just in front of the Arbor. He watched as she touched her fingers to her chest, lips and forehead.

“You are an enigma,” he said, smiling. “You are so devout; I would not have expected you to be so.”

She turned her large brown eyes on him, and for a moment he worried he had offended her, but she just smiled and said, “Why so?”

He shrugged. “You are such a competent warrior – no, that does not come near to explaining you in the least – you are an amazing warrior, a fearless knight, and yet you are also like a priestess, so holy.”

“But that is the very nature of the Militis,” she said. “We are holy warriors; that is what we do.”

“I know.” He wasn't explaining himself very well, he thought. “But I feel for some of you, the religious bit comes a poor second to the defensive role – Dolosus, for example.”

“Dolosus is not the best example you could quote,” she said wryly.

“I suppose not. Well, what about Valens, then? I feel his devotion to the Arbor is second to his defense of it.”

She looked uncomfortable at discussing the Imperator in such a manner but said, “He was Dux for many years. I suppose it is natural for those who spend their time on the Wall that defence comes first.”

“Do you think you will change as the years go by?”

She smiled sadly. “Do you really think that is a Question I need to answer? Are we likely to see the sun rise?”

Chonrad shrugged. “The Darkwater Lords have done some truly amazing things I never thought to see – but so have we. My whole perception of the world has changed since I came to Heartwood for the Congressus. I realise how little I know about my religion and the world I inhabit. Teague, for instance, just laid his hands on me and healed me. I would never have thought possible a few months ago.”

She looked astonished. “Truly?”

“Truly. I would have said he will be a great asset when people are injured, but I think he has bigger fish to fry.” He looked pointedly at the Arbor.

Procella nodded. “There is still time for him to help.”

“He needs to come to that decision himself, or I feel he will be useless to us.” Chonrad thought of the Virimage's words, that echoed Fulco's last sign before his death, and he frowned.

“What are you thinking?” Procella asked, sensing his mood.

He sighed. “Before Fulco died, he signed,
you are the key
.”

“Oh?”

“I did not have a clue what he was referring to. Well, when I first talked to Teague, he said the Arbor had spoken to him, and had also told him I was the key.”

Procella's eyebrows rose. “The key to what?”

“If I knew that… He also said the Arbor thought of me as a Militis.”

She smiled. “I am not surprised.”

He looked at the tree and shivered. “I am. I do not consider myself in the same league as you at all.”

To his surprise, she put a gentle hand on his arm. “Though the Abbatis turned you away at the Allectus, I think maybe the Arbor did not. Perhaps we should have let it have more of a say in who was chosen. My guess is it has thought of you as its own from the beginning.”

Chonrad stared at her. He was surprised for two reasons: that she would consider criticising an age-old practice, and also that she might be right.

Was it possible? That although he thought himself rejected, the Arbor had considered himself one of its protectors since he was seven?

His thoughts were interrupted by a cry from the back of the Temple. They spun, realising the Hanaireans had returned. Together, they ran over to the group gathering around the panting Fionnghuala and Bearrach.

“He is not there,” said Fionnghuala. “We went into the Armorium and found the steps down to the Cavus. We went down, and found another hole in the floor in that room, with more steps leading down. We descended these and found ourselves in a small room with a door in the opposite wall.”

“The door was open,” continued Bearrach, “but as we approached it, it slammed shut. I do not know how, because there was no wind. We stepped back, and then suddenly saw on the door some words had appeared. They said: You need the key.”

A shiver ran down Chonrad's back. Everyone started talking at once, but across the crowd, he felt Procella's eyes on him. She stepped forwards, her eyes never leaving him. “Valens,” she said quietly. “Chonrad should go.”

He turned to look at her, frowning. “Why?”

She explained, and gradually everyone fell quiet as she spoke. All eyes turned to Chonrad, and he grew increasingly uncomfortable.

When she had finished explaining what Fulco and Teague had foretold, Valens shook his head. “We need all healthy warriors up here, in the Temple. It is only a matter of time until Darkwater breaks through. We cannot afford for one of our most able allies to disappear at such a time.”

“He is more than that,” Procella insisted. “He is special.”

Valens glared at her. “You are a Militis, a defender of the holy tree,” he snapped. “I do not expect you to bring your private feelings into a matter concerning the Arbor's safety.”

Procella went white. Everyone else looked shocked. Chonrad closed his eyes briefly, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him.

“If you were any other knight, I would strike you down where you stand,” Procella said quietly. “But you are my Imperator. I respect you because you are fair and just, and until now you have always listened to my opinion.”

Valens said nothing. Chonrad opened his eyes. The face of the leader of the whole of Heartwood was impassive, but Chonrad had a feeling he might be regretting his words.

Procella continued. “Chonrad has been told by the Virimage the Arbor thinks of Chonrad as its own. We all know it is not the Arbor that chooses its guardians at the Allectus; it is the Imperator and the Abbatis together. Perhaps this time they were wrong – perhaps the Arbor chose Chonrad for one of its defenders, and Heartwood sent him away.”

Valens's jaw tightened. “Even if that were so, why would that make Lord Barle the person to go and find Nitesco? Surely any Militis could fulfil that role?”

Procella lifted her chin, and Chonrad's heart missed a beat – she was beautiful, noble, intelligent, commanding and brave. At that moment, he could not have loved her more. “It can be no coincidence both Fulco and Teague called Chonrad the ‘key'.” She sighed and suddenly reached out and took Valens's hand in her own, a surprisingly tender gesture. “Great leader, I think we have to think bigger than just throwing bodies at these Darkwater Lords. We have to think about how to save the Arbor, and I do not think we will do that by just killing the enemy now. There are too many of them. I believe Nitesco found the fifth Node down in the Cavus, and I think if Chonrad can go down there and activate it, there might just be some hope he can save us all.”

“No pressure,” said Chonrad wryly, echoing Teague's words and causing everyone else to start laughing with relief at the break in the tension.

Procella dropped Valens's hand and turned to him. “Will you go and try for us?”

Suddenly, Chonrad was past caring what everyone else thought. He reached out and took Procella into his arms, wrapping her firmly in his grip. He buried his nose in her hair. She smelled of rain and the fresh cool air, making him think of summer showers and afternoons spent down by the river in Vichton, picking daisies.

He lifted his head. “I will. But I must warn you – if we survive this day, I am going to ask you to marry me.”

He did not wait to hear what she had to say, nor to read the astonished look on Valens's and indeed everyone's faces. He kissed her swiftly and then turned, and walking over to the oak doors leading to the Domus, said to Niveus firmly, “For Arbor's sake, if you hear three knocks, then two, then three again, let me in, won't you?”

 

II

Beata stood in the doorway of the cell, looking down at Teague. For a moment neither said anything. Then she said, “Chonrad insinuated you can heal.”

Teague said nothing.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“You did not ask.” His golden eyes were accusing, wary, and suddenly she regretted the way she had treated him earlier. Why had she reacted in such a way? He just made her so mad, that was all!

She had to ask. She continued, rather hoarsely. “Could you have… Peritus…”

“I cannot raise the dead, if that is what you are asking,” he said flatly.

She bit her lip, his words stabbing like knives. “You can be so cruel,” she said softly. “I do not know why you have the power to hurt me.”

He put his head in his hands. “That is the last thing I want. I just want to be left alone.”

He looked so young then, and so vulnerable. Unbidden, the memory came to her of him in her arms that night in Henton, the night she had given herself to him, and had really experienced love for the first time.

Had it been love, she wondered? Or just a sexual act? It was true he had clearly never been short of female partners. But she had sensed at the time their bonding had been more than that; there had been something magical about it, something that transcended time and space and duty and all the other things that made her feel guilty afterwards.

Or was she just being fanciful, trying to create something beautiful out of something functional, like trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear?

She came into the room and sat beside him. He looked up at her suspiciously, but she just gave him a small smile. “Chonrad told me you are scared of the Arbor.”

He couldn't stop his eyes stealing out to the tree. He shivered. His eyes flicked back to her. “It talks to me. I can hear what it is feeling. It is in such pain, Beata; you could not conceive it. It is crying.” He put his head in his hands again. “I cannot bear it.”

She stared at him, shocked, and then looked out at the Arbor again. She gazed at the old tree, at the sagging branches and split trunk. Of course, she had always known the Arbor was special, holy, a symbol of Animus's love for them all, and the channeller of the energy flowing around Anguis. But now, for the first time, she saw it as Teague saw it: not just a tree, inanimate and emotionally blank like any other natural feature, and not as a mechanical thing like a dam that diverted water, but a living, breathing organism, something that could think and feel, and that interacted with the world around it, a sentient being, as much alive and aware of its surroundings as she and Teague – maybe even more so.

She turned back to him, knelt before him and took his hand. “Then why do you not do something to help it?” she asked earnestly. “We do not have much time. I travelled across Anguis to find you, because we thought you were the only one who could help.”

When he looked at her, his eyes were wet, and there was panic hiding inside them. “You do not know what you are asking of me.”

It was only then she really saw how deep his fear went. Still, she could not understand why he was not doing anything. Militis were taught to conquer their fear, or at least to keep on fighting in spite of it, and she could not understand why he remained seated when the Arbor outside faded slowly away.

But she said nothing. She merely sat on the seat beside him and looked out at the tree. She suddenly felt very tired. Her shoulder throbbed, and the strength she had drawn on to get her back home, to bring Teague to Heartwood, dissipated.

She closed her eyes, just for a moment she thought, to rest. She felt so tired. When had she last eaten? She honestly could not remember. She sank into the seat as she dozed. No, she wasn't sinking into the seat; she was sinking into the ground. It was soft, like dough, and her feet were plunging deep into that softness; in fact, it was almost as if she were melting, becoming part of the dough, blending into it…

With a gasp, she opened her eyes. Teague's hand rested on her shoulder and his eyes were closed, but they opened as she sat up, and he smiled at her. She stared at him, shocked. The pain in her shoulder had gone. She tore off the sling and slipped her hand inside her mail tunic, trying to feel beneath the bandage. She could feel no gaping wound, no soreness.

“You healed me,” she said softly.

“It might not be completely gone,” he warned; “it was a deep wound.”

She flexed her arm and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out as, suddenly, a deep groaning noise echoed around the Temple.

“What in the Arbor's name was that?” They both stood and went outside the cell. All around the Temple, people were looking up at the walls and ceilings as the groaning noise echoed again.

“Chonrad was right – they are raising the water levels outside,” shouted Gravis. “It is the walls moving under the pressure.”

Instinctively, everyone began moving away from the walls to the centre of the room. Valens and Procella left the doors where they had been waiting for news of Chonrad and walked up to the group that now formed at the edge of the outer ring. Together, they looked up at the ceiling.