Authors: Freya Robertson
Dolosus turned his face to the sun, not realising how much he had missed its rays. The tree seemed to be doing the same. Gradually, its growth rate slowed, and instead it filled out, its leaves now a canopy of green above his head.
And then the rumbling began again. Fear grew inside him as the ground trembled. The light brightened around the tree and spread outwards, engulfing anyone who stood in its way. He tried to scramble to his feet, but he wasn't quick enough; the light was on him, bathing him in its brightness, and he stood still, realising it was too late to run.
The light spread through him, burned up inside him. The warmth spread, his head hurt, and the stump of his missing arm throbbed. He groaned as pain shot through him, then, just as suddenly, it was gone. The light faded. The world came back into focus.
All around him, knights were staring in amazement at each other. Dolosus realised all their wounds had been healed. All gashes, scrapes, bumps and bruises had vanished.
He looked down at himself and gasped. He had two arms, two hands. The Arbor had somehow managed to grow back the missing limb.
The tree shook gently over his head, the leaves shivering in the early morning breeze.
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EPILOGUE
Chonrad turned his face up to the sun and welcomed the warmth on his cheeks. The light was bright through his eyelids. He knew he shouldn't stand there for too long or he would get burned, but even though four months had passed since the Rains, as they had come to be called, he still felt grateful every time the sun came up.
After a while, he sighed and opened his eyes. He stood atop the Porta, looking down on Heartwood, much as he had that first day before their adventures had begun. Now, as then, Procella stood at his side.
The Baillium looked very different. The Castellum was gone, that which wasn't destroyed by the Arbor cleared by the knights who had survived the Last Stand. The Barracks, too, were in the process of being removed. Many of the other buildings that had stood in the Baillium had also fallen, and the rubble from these had also been taken away.
The only part of Heartwood that still remained was its wall and the Porta. Procella had organised for these to be repaired and strengthened but had acknowledged these were now the only defences to remain at Heartwood, and the Arbor was not to be enclosed again.
Chonrad looked at the great tree in the centre of the complex. It was truly magnificent, everything he had ever dreamed about as a child. Twenty times bigger than the average oak tree, the Arbor was tall and strong, its greenery thick and lush. He had been amazed when he finally climbed his way out of the Cavum, the just-awakened Nitesco stumbling behind him, emerging into daylight to find the Domus had collapsed.
The first thing he had done was to find Procella, who had been sitting on the ground some distance from the tree, eyes closed, feeling the sun on her face. When he stood before her, casting a shadow and blocking the sun, she had opened her eyes and looked up at him, and then she had arisen and put her arms around him. There had been no need for words.
They had stood there, arms around each other, for some time, watching everyone starting to move around, talking to each other, showing their healed wounds, laughing at their triumph over the Darkwater Lords.
It was only when Dolosus came over that they broke apart, exclaiming in amazement as he held both hands up to them, grinning. Chonrad thought something had changed Dolosus on a very deep level; his bitterness and resentment seemed to have completely vanished, and he sensed it was down to more than just the reappearance of his limb.
Together, they had walked over to the Arbor, right up to the trunk, which was now so wide that the three of them, holding hands, would not have been able to reach around it. Dolosus explained to them what he had seen and how Teague had merged with the tree. And then he walked them around the other side of the trunk, and they had both gasped.
Two figures stood proud of the trunk, their wooden features highly polished and intricately carved. It was Teague and Beata. He had his arms around her, and she was leaning her head on his chest, smiling slightly. The two of them joined, forever.
After they had got over their amazement, the three of them had started to clean up the area and work out who had survived the Last Stand and who had not. The Komis army had vanished â those who were not swept away had returned to their land, and those at Heartwood suspected they would not bother anyone again for a while.
More of their good friends had survived than they had expected. Gravis, Grimbeald, Fionnghuala and Bearrach, Niveus, even Nitesco.
But the casualties were many, including of course Valens, the great Imperator. Now there was time to mourn, Procella wept as she cleaned his face of blood and laid him carefully at the base of the tree. Dolosus spent some time with him, saying his goodbyes before the tree took him within, absorbing his energy.
They had organised the clean-up together, and then they had prepared a great feast under the tree, which had lasted well into the night as they wept and laughed and wept again, and discussed every move of the battle, every slash of the sword.
Everyone told their story; Nitesco related what had happened in the Labyrinth; Chonrad how he had activated the Node; Dolosus told of his journey to Darkwater. And then they had slept soundly under the shade of the tree, Procella in Chonrad's arms, and he didn't think he had ever been so happy.
The next day they discussed the future and what was going to happen to Heartwood. Chonrad had led this discussion, making it clear the Arbor did not want to be worshipped or defended, pointing out it was clearly capable of defending itself. Procella suggested keeping the outer wall and the Porta, mainly to control the flow of traffic to and from the Arbor. The Exercitus were to remain on Isenbard's Wall as a peacekeeping force.
It was decided that those who wished to remain in the Militis could stay in Heartwood, but Chonrad suggested they no longer be a holy, celibate, defensive force, but instead a group concentrating on controlling the flow of pilgrims to the Arbor. Though the Arbor did not wish to be worshipped, people would still wish to come and visit the glorious tree when they heard what had happened to it, and they would need a place to stay and somewhere to buy food. He suggested they concentrate the new settlement outside of the walls, and leave the tree the space inside to breathe.
The rest of the time since then had been spent clearing up. Fionnghuala and Bearrach had helped for a while and then had returned to Hanaire. Though they had not discussed their plans, Chonrad suspected they would be giving up their places on the Council to move in together, as they had certainly seemed very close.
Grimbeald, too, had left eventually, and with him Tenera, who had been healed by the Arbor and was now inseparable from the gruff Wulfian. He also seemed to have changed since his initial arrival at Heartwood. He made it clear to everyone that he was going to do his best to bring peace to Wulfengar and had already called a meeting of all of the Lords of the Five Lands to discuss how to begin this plan. His was not an easy task, thought Chonrad; violence was a way of life in Wulfengar, and his ideals were certainly not common. However, he seemed determined, and Chonrad felt if anyone could convince the other lords, it was the stouthearted Grimbeald, with the sensible and level-headed Tenera at his side.
Gravis announced he had decided to become an emissary for Heartwood, with the intention of travelling to all four lands to encourage them to be at peace with one another. He said he knew it would not be an easy task, but Gavius would always be with him, and with his help, he hoped he could do some good.
Dolosus and Procella had talked for some time about what was to happen with those Militis who stayed behind. Chonrad had left them to it, feeling that once he had offered his opinions, it was not his place to say. When they eventually finished, it was Dolosus who came over to tell him it had been decided he would run the new settlement with the help of some of his old friends: Niveus, Terreo and the newly arrived Erubesco, to name a few. They had drawn up plans for buildings and lists of ideas on how to make it work, and he seemed enlivened by the idea and strangely pleased to be concentrating on something other than fighting.
“You are truly a great heir to Valens,” Chonrad had told him, and Dolosus's great smile had explained his feelings more fully than any words could have.
When Dolosus finally walked away, Chonrad had looked at Procella curiously. Perhaps for the first time since he had met her, she looked uncertain, her large brown eyes glancing up into his, then looking away.
“What about you?” he asked curiously. “Are you not going to stay and help run the settlement?”
She looked back at him then. “Do you remember what you said to me before you left to go to the Cavum that day?”
He smiled at her. “Of course I do. I said I was going to ask you to marry me, if I came back.”
He cocked his head at her, watching her watch him. “What?”
She laughed, embarrassed. “Well, are you going to ask me?”
A warm glow flowed through him. “I did not think for a moment you would say yes!”
“Does that change whether you ask the Question or not?”
He smiled and dropped to one knee before her, taking her hand in his. “No, of course not. Procella, will you marry me and come and live with me in Vichton?”
“Yes, Chonrad, I will.”
And so they had been married in a simple ceremony under the Arbor, and now Chonrad leaned forwards and placed his arms around her, feeling the slight swelling of her stomach, which announced the fact that she was pregnant with his child. The one night they had spent together in Vichton had been enough for their love to make a new life. He had worried she might not want the child; after all, the life of a Militis had been deeply ingrained in her, but she seemed genuinely thrilled, and he sensed she was looking forward to the chance to create life, after spending so long taking it away.
And now they were saying goodbye to the Arbor. Chonrad knew they would be back; there was no way Procella would be able to leave the Arbor forever, and Chonrad would not expect her to. Neither did he expect her to be the sort of wife who stayed at home and embroidered cushions. She was still going to take an active role with the Exercitus on the Wall, and she also wanted to help Grimbeald to try to make peace in Wulfengar. But her heart was with Chonrad, and for that he was glad.
He was looking forward to returning home. As soon as he was able after the Last Stand, he had sent a rider to Vichton enquiring about the health of his children, and had received word they were safe and well, though Vichton itself had taken some damage from the Darkwater Lords. But he had been away long enough.
He looked at the Arbor. His feelings towards the tree had changed dramatically, and now he only felt peace and love towards it; but still, the thought of its power and how for a short while he had been the source of it still unsettled him. He was pleased the tree was healed, but he was not disappointed to be leaving it behind.
It was time. He gave one last glance at the two figures of Beata and Teague carved into the trunk, locked in their eternal embrace. Then he took Procella's hand and led her down the stairs.
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Though his eyes no longer saw in the way they had when he was alive, Teague watched Chonrad and Procella leave. He stretched, feeling his leaves rustle and his branches sway in the wind. If he concentrated, he could feel through his roots to the very ends of Anguis. The energy was now being channelled to all four corners of the realm, and the land was flourishing.
Everything had ended well, he thought. He was strong and in control, and for once he felt as if he belonged. The Darkwater Lords were contained in the sea, where they would remain, eternally bound within their watery chains. The world was at peace, and the element of earth was in the ascendant.
For now.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Freya is a lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy, as well as a dedicated gamer. She has a deep and abiding fascination for the history and archaeology of the Middle Ages and spent many hours as a teenager writing out notecards detailing the battles of the Wars of the Roses, or moping around museums looking at ancient skeletons, bits of rusted iron and broken pots. She also has an impressive track record, having published over twenty romance novels under her pseudonym, Serenity Woods.
She lives in the glorious country of New Zealand Aotearoa, where the countryside was made to inspire fantasy writers and filmmakers, and where they brew the best coffee in the world.
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Six days, seven knights
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An Angry Robot paperback original 2013
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Copyright © Freya Robertson 2013
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Cover art by Alejandro Colucci
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Distributed in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978 0 85766 387 0