Chapter Thirty-six
The battle in the First Forest was the most incredible, terrible thing I imagine I will ever experience. It was at the same time both the worst and the proudest moment of my life. The worst because of the friends that I lost there; the proudest because it was likely the most important thing I will ever do. Because there are only a half-dozen people left in the world who can say that they stood with Bryndine Errynson that day, in defense of the Kingsland and the Promise.
And she was glorious.
— From the personal journals of Dennon Lark
Dawn came too soon.
Sunlight made it to the floor of the clearing in patches, wherever it could avoid being tangled up in the web of shadows cast by the branches of the First Tree. Where the light reached the ground, it sparkled off the dew and scattered rainbows across the rich green grass. On the whole, the effect was far too idyllic. I found myself wishing for clouds.
In the brightness of the morning, the task ahead seemed too real, too immediate. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend it was all a dream, but I could not. The women had already donned their armor, strapped on their shields, readied their weapons. The horses had been taken as far from us as Selvi and Elene could lead them in an hour and secured there, so that the Burnt could not turn our own mounts against us. Everything was prepared.
The time had come.
Standing before the First Tree with the sun reflecting off her golden hair, Bryndine Errynson silently swept her gaze over her company. Only nine sets of eyes looked back at her—mine, and eight others. Eight, of what had been near twenty when they had first come to Waymark. Too many women lost, and I knew Bryndine felt their absence. I could see it in the tightness of her lips, the slight wrinkling around her eyes. But she could not show any weakness now, not with those who remained depending on her. No, she would be strong for them. She would be strong right down to her last breath, I suspected.
She would have to be. The women seemed to dread what was to come as much as I did. The Kingsland had never given them reason to sacrifice their lives eagerly.
“I will not lie to you,” Bryndine said at last. “If we make our stand here, we fight for a kingdom that would not grieve to see us slain. The Army does not want us. The Scribers have abandoned us. The people have turned against us. They think that we are blasphemers, or traitors, or worse.” She drew herself up to her full height then, and held her head high, and her voice rang out like a hammer on steel. “But they also need us!
“All of us here have sworn oaths. We may not all have said the same words”—she looked in my direction at that—“but in the end, all of us have vowed to do the same thing: to serve and protect the people of the Kingsland.
All
of the people of the Kingsland. Not only those who we approve of, and not only when we wish to do it. Keeping an oath when it is easy to keep means nothing—it is what we do when those oaths become difficult that defines us.
“Let others break their vows. Let them bicker, and blame, and fight amongst one another. Let them ignore the truth that stands before them. But not us!” And now she set her jaw, and her eyes shone like polished steel as she said, “We
will
stay true. We
will
honor the oaths that we swore. The people may not want our protection, but they
will
have it!” She drew her sword and held it high, and its blade was gilded by the morning light. “For the Promise!”
Her women did not disappoint her. As one, they lifted their weapons and took up the cry. For what must have been the first time in more than a thousand years, the First Forest echoed with the sound of human voices.
I did not join in. It would have been a lie. Bryndine’s words were stirring, but I was not risking my life for some ancient ideal. I had sworn an oath, and I would keep it, but not for the Promise. This was no longer about the good of the many for me—it was about the lives of the few I cared about, and the memory of those who were gone. It was about setting right the crimes that had distorted our history for so long, that had led us to this point. If the citizens of the Kingsland were saved too, it was lucky for them, but honestly, I couldn’t have cared less.
As the women organized themselves, I moved into position at the eastern side of the First Tree, nestled in the cleft between two enormous roots. The spot provided some amount of cover, but left me with a clear view of the gap in the trees to the north, where Bryndine and the others were forming their line. Where they would mount their defense.
The plan, as Bryndine had explained it, was a simple one. We had a certain advantage here, she had said. The thick wall of trees around us made the clearing defensible. The narrow gap to the north was the only way in, and it would limit the numbers the Burnt could bring against Bryndine and the others. Nine women could hold such a spot. For a time. Not forever. It fell to me to ensure that it was a short fight.
Of course, if things went badly, the single point of entry also meant there was no escape. But I preferred not to think about that.
“Isn’t this cozy.” Deanyn’s voice cut through my thoughts as she slipped into the gap in the roots that sheltered me.
“Shouldn’t you be with the others?”
“I know where I’m supposed to stand, and I don’t think they will start without me. I just… wanted to see how you were.”
“Anxious. Frightened. Several thousand leagues from prepared.”
She smiled. “That may be a good thing, if what the Wyddin said is true. Perhaps you’ll reach the Eldest on your first attempt, and we’ll look like fools for being so worried.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But I don’t think it very likely.” I looked down at my feet. “Deanyn… If I can’t make them listen, you should know…” But I could only gesture vaguely, unable to come up with the words I wanted.
She touched my cheek, gently, and lifted my chin until I was looking her in the eyes. “You can tell me after,” she said. “They’ll listen. I trust you.” Then, she pulled me into her arms, pressed her body against mine, and whispered into my ear, “Be careful, Dennon. Remember your promise.”
“You’re the one who will be in danger, trying to protect me. I…”
She clubbed a hand against my back. “Shut up, Scriber.”
Laughing despite myself, I closed my mouth and held her.
And then, over her shoulder, I saw Bryndine approaching, with Sylla at her side, and I knew it was time. My throat went dry, and I pulled away from Deanyn’s arms.
“We are ready, Scriber,” said Bryndine. “Deanyn, you should take your position.”
“Yes, Captain.” Deanyn gave my hand a final squeeze, and departed.
“Are you certain this is the best place for you, Scriber?” Bryndine asked. “I would sooner have you out of sight behind the tree.”
I shook my head. “No. I need to be able to see when the Burnt come. I need to be afraid. Fear is the only thing I know that works.”
“Very well.” She gave me a very solemn look, and she said, “The Kingsland owes you a great debt, Scriber Dennon.” Then, to my surprise, she saluted me before turning away.
An unexpected sense of pride rose in my breast as I watched her go. I knew what that salute meant. To Bryndine, who had devoted her life to the King’s Army and everything it represented, it was the highest honor she could give.
Strangely enough, Sylla did not immediately follow her Captain. With a worried glance over her shoulder at Bryndine, she stepped towards me, and my stomach clenched with dread. But there was only supplication in her dark eyes, and her voice was soft and plaintive as she said, “Please, Scriber. Be swift. Do not let her die for you.”
“No harm will come to her,” I promised, and prayed that it was true. Looking at Sylla’s face right then, I could not bring myself to tell her anything else.
Sylla looked at me in silence for a moment, then nodded brusquely and hurried back to Bryndine’s side.
I was alone beside the First Tree.
I looked up at the giant, crooked trunk and the maze of twisted branches high above. The leaves I had seen reflecting the moonlight the night before were nothing but tiny spots of green among the distant boughs. There couldn’t have been more than a hundred. If each leaf was the spirit of one of the Eldest, there were not many ears for my voice to reach.
Please listen. Wake up.
I tried to direct my thoughts towards the tree, but there was no response. I had not expected one. It would have been too easy. No, I had to use a Gift that had been lost to mankind for a thousand years. I had to somehow find an emotion powerful enough to reach the Wyd, while at the same time staying distant enough to protect myself against the Burnt. It was ludicrous, and insane, and impossible; it was a thousand things, but easy was not one of them.
Taking a deep breath, I laid my hands against the pale bark of the First Tree.
A prickling sensation began in my palms, then swept up my arms and spread throughout my body. Gooseflesh rose on my skin. There was power here, woven into the very wood of this ancient tree, and something inside me responded to it.
And the Burnt responded as well. In the back of my mind, I heard a distant voice.
“
All will burn
.”
They were coming.
Fear lanced through my heart, but it was not enough. There was no moment of clarity, nor did I feel the awareness of the Burnt sweep over me. I could hear their whispers, low at first, then growing louder. “
We will have vengeance
,” they hissed. “
We will not be robbed
.” But they did not command me to burn.
“There!” I heard Selvi cry, and I looked towards the sound.
The twins’ hands blurred as they drew and released their bow strings, sending arrow after arrow into the trees. The women blocked my view, but I knew what they must be seeing—the animals of the forest gathering to attack. Distance was no obstacle to the Burnt; they were already here, in whatever bodies they could take.
“
Death
,” they shrieked into the Wyd. And then they attacked.
Ivyla fell to the ground as a lithe grey form leapt upon her. The wolf snarled and went for her throat, but Debra kicked it aside and wrenched the other woman back to her feet as Deanyn brought her blade down on the creature’s spine.
Over their heads, I saw a set of antlers emerge from the trees. A large stag lowered its head and charged at Leste. Bryndine stepped into its path. There was a loud screech as the antlers scraped against the steel of her shield, and she staggered back. Sylla darted forward, slicing low at the stag’s leg. Its knee gave way, and Bryndine cleaved downward with a heavy stroke that severed an antler and bit deep into the animal’s skull.
The battle became a blur of fur and steel, growls and cries. The women held their line, but they were being slowly forced back, step by step. Terror pulsed in my veins, for the company and for myself, but I could not find the tipping point that had always come naturally before. It was as though reaching for the Wyd only made it retreat further. “Please!” I yelled at the tree, pushing my hands against the bark until my skin was raw. “Help them!”
The only answer was the voices of the Burnt. “
Pain. Fire. Death.
”
And then I heard something else: a dull roar, like hundreds of banners flapping in a heavy wind. A shadow fell over the clearing. I looked up.
Birds. Birds of all sizes and colors and kinds flew together, crows and sparrows and falcons and more. A thousand pairs of wings blocked out the sun.
They dove.
The birds threw themselves through the boughs of the First Tree with no regard for their own lives. Hundreds collided with the branches and plummeted to the ground, but hundreds more slipped through the gaps. And many of them were coming directly at me.
I didn’t know what to do. There was nowhere to hide, and still the Wyd would not open to me. No matter how afraid I was, I could not find a way to do intentionally what I had done so many times by instinct. “Wake up,” I whispered, over and over again, as I pressed my bloody hands against the First Tree. But no one was listening. I hunched against the tree and closed my eyes as the birds descended.
“Down, Scriber!” I recognized Bryndine’s voice, felt her big hands push me lower. I looked up to see her standing over me with her shield held high, just as I had seen her the night she had first saved me in Waymark. The birds hurled themselves against her shield, against her body. Their talons and beaks tore at her leather armor, and at her skin wherever they could find it. Hundreds collided with the ground around us, and against the trunk of the First Tree. The sound was deafening.
Peeking through a gap in the roots around me, I watched the others trying to defend themselves. The line had scattered. The sheer number of the birds had driven the women apart, and the other animals were using it to their advantage. Debra knocked a falcon aside with her axe as it dived for her face, but a wolf bit into her leg and pulled her down, then leapt atop her and tore out her throat. I turned my eyes away, pressed my face against the First Tree and screamed. “Listen to me! You have to help us!” There was no response.
Finally, Bryndine stepped away from me, bleeding from a long wound across her brow. There were few birds left now—most had shattered themselves against the ground and the trees. Those that were left flapped about the heads of the women, clawing and screeching, distracting them as the more dangerous animals attacked. The gap that led into the clearing was open and undefended, and more creatures entered every moment.
“To me! Protect the Scriber!” Bryndine’s voice cut through the noise of battle, and her women responded. They fell back towards us, forming a half-circle around my niche in the roots of the First Tree.
The Burnt followed, in the bodies of badgers, wolves, deer, even various vermin; every kind of animal I could imagine. Their voices howled through my mind, the same insane litany I had heard so many times before.
Elene screamed as a boar impaled her leg with a huge curled tusk, and her sister came to her aid, plunging her sword into the creature’s skull until it ceased moving. Wolves bit at the women’s ankles and birds clawed at their eyes. And Bryndine and her company held. Against an unceasing horde of beasts, they held.