Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (67 page)

XV

A Refuge in the Leaves

The King's brow was lifted, the thunderclouds that marred his face lightening in hope. He spoke in reverent whisper, "Meinir, dead? Is this true, child?"

 "You don't think I'd lie to you about something like this," Fiannuala said loudly. "What kind of a brat do you think I am?"

 "A large one, but that's not the point right now," Cati said. "You did it, you actually...I should not have doubted you."

 "No, you shouldn't."

 The woodland court was silent. Michael and his friends, the dryads who gathered at the edges of the grove to hear the news of Meinir's death, the three princesses, all waited upon the word of the king who sat with his head bowed, his leafy beard stained with tears.

 Gerallt raised his head, his golden eyes wet. "After all these years passed I did not dare to hope...my dear, dear Cerys at last avenged at the hands of her daughter. Dala be praised. The Traitoress is Dead! Dala be Praised!"

 "Dala be Praised! The Traitoress is Dead!" the dryads shouted.

 "The victory was not mine alone," Fiannuala said. "Meinir did not fight unaided, and she would have killed me if it hadn't been for Michael. We made a deal with them father, you have to honour it and allow them passage through the woods."

 "Of course, of course," King Gerallt said. "And, for the great service you have done my line, ask any other boon that you would have and I shall grant it."

 Michael cleared his throat. "Lord King, I am son to a dear mother murdered, brother to a brother slain before his time... I know the weight that grief can bear upon the heart. But justice has been done, vengeance taken for your grievous loss. So cast off now your bitter cloak of mourning, embrace your daughters, and mend with love the cankerous hatred that has riven those between whom only perfect fellowship ought dwell."

 "You speak longwindedly for a short-lived race," King Gerallt replied, rising from his wooden throne. "But you chide me well. Cati, Fiannuala, Gwawr, too heavy did I let my cares rest on my shoulders, ignoring weights as great that each of you struggled to bear. Cati, Fia, will you patch up this quarrel that has grown between you, for the love you bear me and your youngest sister both?"

 Fiannuala and Cati eyed each other, before Cati stuck out her hand. "'Neath Dala's bower, I offer sorrow."

 Fiannuala took her hand. "'Neath Dala's bower I accept your sorrow, and offer mine in turn."

 "And I in turn accept it," Cati said.

 Gwawr beamed with happiness as a second sun, and the old king's mouth, though it looked stiff as the branches of an ancient tree, found life in it to twitch with something approaching joy.

 "Take my arms, my daughters dear," Gerallt said. "And from this day forth let us share our sorrows and our joys."             

They embraced, and as they did so Michael crossed his arms and smiled. "And that is how a family ought to be."

"You are the worst combination of moralistic, dogmatic and sickeningly sentimental, I hope you realise that about yourself," Jason said.

 Michael glared at him. "Your Highness is determined to allow me not one moment's happiness unalloyed, is that not so?"

 "It's aren't you! Not 'is that not so'! Aren't you! Aren't you!"

 "Mayhap to you Your Highness, but not to me."

 "Now you're just doing it on purpose."

King Gerallt declared. "In honour of this day, I decree this night a night of celebration across all of Eena. Let a feast be prepared! Let the music play! The Queen has been avenged! Let all rejoice!"

The dryads whooped and howled and soon all order and discipline that had restrained them was cast aside as the revels began. Michael was garlanded in flowers, and all the others too. They began to gather in fruit and nuts and lay them out for all to partake from.

"Michael."

Michael turned to see Gideon approaching through the crowd. He alone of all people seemed to have avoided being draped in flowers. Michael bowed his head. "Gideon. How do you feel?"

"Better now, thank you, though still a little stiff," Gideon murmured. "You did well, today."

"I did nothing but fight," Michael said.

"You brought everyone back alive, that is not nothing," Gideon said. "Take praise when it is given, Michael. Too much humility is as bad as too much pride."

Michael smiled. "Then... thank you, Gideon."

Gideon clasped Michael's hand firmly. "Damn well done."

"Hey, everyone! Come on," Fiannuala said, breaking away from her father and sisters. "While they're making the preparations, follow me."

 They followed, Gwawr trailing along behind them. Fiannuala led them through the forest, past dryads with eager expressions gathering fruit and flowers, past those who bowed respectfully to their princess or congratulated her upon her vengeance. These Fiannuala acknowledged with a glad smile and gracious nod, while continuing to lead the company upon its way. Eventually she brought them by mist-shrouded paths to a great oak tree, the tallest tree that Michael had ever seen. Higher than mountains it seemed to loom, the ridges of its bark like the lines on an aged face, the twigs and branches bent as crooked fingers, but the trunk as straight and proud as the back of any old soldier when the bugle sounds.

 "What is it?" Jason said.

 "A big tree," Amy replied.

 "Obviously." Jason rolled his eyes. "What I meant was what is important or special about it?"

 "This is the oldest tree in the whole of Eena, the ancestor of the entire forest," Fiannuala said in whispered awe. "The first king of the dryads, Glyndwr, gave up his life upon this spot, and when he was buried this tree sprouted over his grave. That was back in the First Age, the Elder Age, before men or elves or orcs. The whole forest has grown up around this spot, and this tree has seen all of it.

"My mother is buried in this grove. One day Cati will lie here too."

"What of you?" Michael asked.

"I will never be queen, Dala willing," Fiannuala said.

"Gabriel never ruled Corona as diademed prince, yet such was his glory and valour, and such was the love that Simon had for him, that when the war was done his body was taken back to Corona and interred amongst the ruling princes in the tombs beneath the palace," Michael smiled. "There is yet time to win Cati's love so."

 "And what of the glory and the valour?"

 "The latter I believe you possess in great store, the former I believe you will win in great quantity, your highness," Michael said. Gwawr beamed.

 "Maybe," Fiannuala said. "But that isn't what I really brought you here for." She leapt up, grabbing hold of a low hanging branch and pulling herself up onto it, "Come on up, all of you."

 "Really?" Jason's eyes boggled a little.

 "I'll give you a hand if you don't think you can do it," Fiannuala said as Gwawr scampered up after her, squirrel fashion. "Here." Stout branches dropped from the trees to loop around Jason's chest and haul him up into the tree.

 "Anyone else?" Fiannuala asked.

 Tullia raised her hand a little tremulously, and she too was picked up by Fiannuala's wood magic.

 As they rose, and as Fiannuala and Gwawr climbed out of sight, Gideon matter-of-factly rubbed some dirt on his hands and began to climb up. Wyrrin followed, using his claws to good advantage.

"Come, come," Wyrrin called out. "Follow, quickly!"

Michael looked at Amy, vested of the heaviest of her armour, and she looked right back at him.

 A grin spread across Amy's face, "Race you to the top!" She shouted, and like a tiger fierce in pursuit of its prey she sprang at the venerable old oak and began to scramble up.

 "Oh ho, you'll never take me in a contest of speed our Amy," Michael said as he too began to climb, arms working furiously as he moved from branch to branch, sometimes leaping in his efforts to keep ahead of her.

 But it soon became clear that endurance, not speed, would count here. His arms began to protest the exertion, his legs became more hindrance than help, twigs and branches battered into his face. In the fog of leaves he lost all idea of where Amy was. It started to beggar belief that the sun had not set yet.

 But then he pushed through the last of the leaves and felt the sunlight bursting on his face and what he saw made all the effort to see it seem worthwhile.

 For he stood on the high branches of the tallest tree in Eena and saw the whole world laid out before him.

 The forest of Eena lay beneath him, tall trees and small trees both alike seeming like child's toys from his lofty vantage. To the north he could see ruins overwhelmed by leaf and foliage, the ruins of Aureliana only he could find. To the west he could see right across Deucalia province, across the villages and towns and farmers fields, all way to the Iskalon river, that great winding sapphire serpent, and beyond that to Davidheyr and sweet Corona. To the east lay lands whose names he did not know, crop fields, sandy dunes, tiny specks moving amongst them in ones or twos or clumps. In the utmost east loomed mountains no larger than ants' nests, lined up in a range that covered the eastern horizon. Farther north, beyond the borders of the dryad forest, he could see a great city walled around with stone, a fitting fort for children to play soldiers with, and beyond that land, and land and more land, stretching green and fertile as far as far could go. And to the south, the sea.

The ocean stretched unlimited southwards from the shore, its greatest wave observed by him in miniature like a ripple in a stream where a stone is dropped in it. If it was beautiful to watch from on the beach, it had ten times such beauty from this vantage. A field of gems, emeralds, sapphires, pearls and diamonds that no man could buy or steal.

 
This is the very view of gods I have been given,
Michael thought.
What else is this, but the world as seen from heaven? If I raise my hand, will my fingers scrape against the firmament?

 He raised his hand and felt nothing but air, but that did not diminish his awe.

 "Raphael must see something like this each night," Michael murmured.

 His comrades, his dear friends, were all around him. Fiannuala stood perched upon the very highest branch of the tree, Gwawr not far beneath her, clinging to the tree trunk like an animal. Wyrrin used his claws to dig into the tree bark and hold himself in place. Jason and Tullia clutched at lower branches. Amy was sitting just below Michael, her legs dangling in the air. Lord Gideon was beyond the need to hold on to anything, and stood pikestaff straight with his arms folded across his chest.
Doubtless he can see even further than the rest of us
.

"I will no longer envy the aestival," Wyrrin said. "For so long as I carry this memory I will have seen as they do."

 "Impressive sight, isn't it?" Fiannuala said.

 "A bit of an understatement there," Jason said, his eyes wide with awe. "It's spectacular."

 "Best view in the whole world," Fiannuala replied.

 "I do believe that that is not hyperbole," Gideon said, a look of wonder crossed his face. "I think I can even see Eternal Pantheia. She is just as beautiful seen from above."

 "Obviously you and I have lived in different cities," Jason muttered.

 "Don't spoil the mood," Amy hissed. "This is just...I never understood how big it was before."

 "The land or the sea?" Michael asked.

 "Either," Amy said. "I wish Felix could see this."

 "Yes," Michael said. "Him and our Miranda both."

 "And Lucilia," Tullia added. "She would love it. It is beautiful."

 "Do you like it, really?" Fiannuala asked. "I wanted you to see it because I love it up here. I thought that..."

 "Thank you, Your Highness," Michael said. "You have done us a great honour."

 They stared there a little while, taking in the vastness and the greatness of the world in silent fellowship. When they returned to the ground they found the celebration underway without them. Before Michael could get anywhere near anything to eat a pair of dryads forced him to his knees so that Gwawr could weave wildflowers into his hair.

"Stop this at once," Michael said as he tried to pull free. "Men do not so adorn themselves in such wise as this."

"But it's a tradition for a dryad celebration," Gwawr said. "Look, everyone else is doing it." She gestured all around her, to where Fiannuala was weaving violets into Cati's hair, and some old dryad woman was doing the same into King Gerallt's beard. No sooner had they finished than Cati and the king began to do the weaving in their turn. "It's a symbol of friendship with the person whose hair you decorate. Fia and Cati are doing it for one another as a symbol of their reconciliation. I want to do it for you because you saved Fia's life, and I want to say thank you."

She looked so keen, so eager, that Michael's chivalry would not allow him to simply tell her that she could thank him by not dolling him up like a girl's plaything. That didn't mean he was happy about it though, and he looked about him for some other escape. "We all fought, could you not stick some flowers in His Highness's hair, or-"