Heartwood Page 10

  Chonrad frowned. “I can think of nothing in Barle.” He turned to the other two Laxonian lords. “What of your lands?”

  Kenweard shrugged, clearly not intending to contribute to the conversation after being snubbed. However Malgara of Dorle nodded. “We have the Henge,” she said. “A stone circle, built before records began. We know very little of it, but there are lots of myths surrounding it; tales of ghosts and lights and mystical sightings.”

  Valens was getting caught up in Nitesco’s enthusiasm. “That’s three!” he exclaimed. “But what of Komis? Surely one of the Nodes must be in that country? How will we find that out?”

  “You forget where I come from,” a voice said wryly from the back of the group. Everyone turned to see who had spoken.

  IV

  “Silva!” said Valens joyfully. “Of course, I had forgotten the place of your birth. Do you have many memories of it?”

  “Some,” she said. Although her face was pale and she was clearly in pain, her voice was strong. “I can remember talk of an ancient carving on a hillside. It was of a naked male with an erect phallus.”

  There was some muffled laughter around the room, more because of Silva’s serious delivery of the fact than of the item itself. Chonrad could see Valens trying not to smile as he said to her, “Was it also a forgotten site?”

  “Not really. But then the Komis people have always had a stronger connection to the land than the other three peoples of Anguis. They have always treated the Green Giant as an energy centre.”

  Chonrad nodded. “So there are four of the Nodes. What about the fifth?”

  Nobody had a reply to that Question. Nitesco shrugged. “If there is one in each land, maybe the fifth is in the Spina Mountains, although I have never heard of a mystical site there.”

  Nobody else seemed to have either. Valens sighed. “Well, we must think on that a while.”

  Chonrad frowned. “The problem is, even if we are correct and these places we have mentioned are Nodes, what do we have to do with them to get them working again?”

  “I might be able to help there,” said Nitesco. He turned over a page in the Quercetum. “There is information here about energy flow.” He ran his finger down the lines. “Here we go. ‘The flow of energy is what keeps the land and its people alive. The Nodes can be seen as physical landmarks around energy centres which act as conduits or conductors of the energy, passing it on throughout the land via a network of veins and arteries. The physical centres must be kept in good condition, as must the energy centres, which should be maintained by regular use of the Veriditas.’”

  There was silence for a moment in the Capitulum. Chonrad was puzzled. As far as he knew, the Veriditas was the name of the ceremony performed once a year to the Arbor, but it seemed as if the Quercetum was suggesting it was something else. He looked at Nitesco, who held up a finger, urging him to wait, and turned over the page.

  “‘The Veriditas, or the Greening, is how we connect ourselves to Animus. The Greening of the Soul is a voluntary surrendering to the power of nature, a Quest for the truth, an opening of oneself to Animus so he can explore our mind and our soul. It completes and confirms the cycles of the seasons and strengthens our connection to the land. The Veriditas should be used at each of the five Nodes to ensure the regular flow of energy between them. It should also be used once a year with the Arbor, when the ceremony should be performed and the selected…” Nitesco’s voice tailed off. He looked up at the group of people listening intently to his speech.

  “What?” said Valens impatiently. “Selected what?”

  In answer, Nitesco picked up the Quercetum and turned it round to face his audience. They all gasped – the back cover of the book was missing, as were the last few pages. The story ended with his final words… There was no more.

  “That is it?” asked Valens.

  “That is it,” said Nitesco. “That is all we have to go on.” He placed the Quercetum on the lectern and stepped down from the podium. “I have been giving some thought to the attack yesterday, and to what I have found out in the Quercetum. Would you like to know what I think about it all?”

  Valens gestured to the centre of the floor. “If you can throw any light onto this matter, I am sure we would all be very grateful.”

  Nitesco nodded. “This is what I think. The Great Quake has proved a fundamental influence in the way our lives have been shaped since then. I believe our heritage and our knowledge of how to work with the land were lost when the Quake occurred, and although Oculus did the best job he could in piecing together what he could find out through talking to others, several vital aspects disappeared, and it is these we need to piece together now.”

  He took a deep breath. “It is my belief the Darkwater Lords will be back.” There were murmurings around the room at this comment; clearly it wasn’t what everyone wanted to hear. “I might be wrong,” he continued, “but it makes sense to think the water elementals have been slowly increasing in power. My guess is they made the attack today because they knew the guard on the Arbor was going to be less than usual as our attention was concentrated on the Congressus and the Curia – not the Temple. They obviously came for the Pectoris. But I believe they will be back to try and take over Heartwood and gain full control of the tree.”

  “Do you have a view on how long we have?” Valens asked.

  Nitesco nodded. “It would seem to me the High Moon would be the ultimate time for them to attack again. Tides are highest at that point and therefore we could assume the Darkwater Lords would be at their strongest then. That gives us…” he did a quick calculation. “About forty-four days before they return.”

  Forty-four days, thought Chonrad. Suddenly it didn’t seem like very long at all.

  “I think we should formulate a plan of action,” Nitesco continued. “We have four main areas to address. Firstly, we need to think about the five Nodes. It would be wise to find a map of Anguis and ensure as best we can if the sites we have discussed are likely to be four of these Nodes. I can then do some research in the books we have left to see if any other mystical place is mentioned, to try to determine the location of the fifth. Then I think we need to go and visit these Nodes.”

  “And do what?” said Valens.

  “That brings me to my next point,” said Nitesco. “We need to have a discussion about the Veriditas. Clearly the ceremony we carry out each year is only a shadow of what it should really constitute. We need to try to work out what we are missing.”

  “Yes,” said Silva. “As I said earlier, the Komis have always had a closer connection with the land than the other peoples of Anguis. Obviously this ‘Greening of the Soul’ is a merging of energies from the giver – that is the one carrying out the ceremony – to the receiver, which is either a Node or the Arbor itself. I have some idea how that works, but clearly our knowledge in that area is not complete.”

  “I have something to say about that,” said Kenweard, the Laxonian lord. Chonrad looked at him in surprise. Kenweard just shrugged. “A few weeks ago a stranger came to Cuddington Fort, my home city. He called himself a ‘Virimage’ – a ‘green magician’, an entertainer of sorts, and he amused the court by carrying out what I thought then to be just magic tricks. But now…”

  “I, too, have heard of him,” said Malgara of Dorle eagerly. “He visited last year, and stayed a while in Realberg, and then went to Henton. People were talking about him for weeks.”

  “What sort of tricks does he do?” asked Chonrad. He had not heard of this Virimage.

  Malgara and Kenweard exchanged glances, seemingly hesitant to say. Finally Malgara shrugged. “He made flowers appear out of thin air, and acorns fall from the sky. He could make leaves sprout from his ears and nostrils and pulled berries and nuts from his mouth. He was fascinating, but I thought it just a series of clever illusions… until now.”

  “Perhaps then we need to find this Virimage and ask if he will come to Heartwood and help us,” suggested Nitesco.

 
Valens smiled grimly. “I think in the present circumstances it will be more of a demand than an enquiry. If he can throw light on the Veriditas, he needs to be brought here.”

  Nitesco nodded. “The next obvious thing that needs to be done is a strengthening of the fortifications in Heartwood. Perhaps a wall around the Arbor, increased guard… Obviously that is your area of expertise,” he said to Valens, who nodded in return.

  “The last,” said the Libraris, “and perhaps most difficult task is the recovery of the Pectoris. Although we can do our best to repair the Arbor and work out the nature of the Veriditas, it is clear that without the heart, our connection to Animus is lost.”

  The room fell silent. Chonrad grew cold inside. “How can we possibly recover it?” he asked. “Presumably the Darkwater Lords have taken it back to their realm beneath the ocean. How could we possibly travel down there?”

  Nitesco took a deep breath and smiled. “This is the most incredible part – and I know that is saying something! But I have been giving some thought to the fact that the water elementals are able to force earth spirits to give them shape. If this is the case, why can we not do the opposite?”

  Everyone looked at everyone else. “You mean turn ourselves into water elementals and go under the sea?” said Valens flatly.

  Nitesco shrugged. “I would have to do some research. But I think it might be possible.”

  Chonrad’s head was spinning. He glanced around the room. Everyone looked stunned, tired and many were struggling to contain their emotions. He looked over at Valens. “I think maybe it is time for a break, Imperator?” he suggested. “Nobody has slept and we could probably all do with something to eat too. Perhaps we could take some time to think and chat to friends and colleagues, have a rest and then reconvene later in the day to discuss any thoughts that may arise.”

  Valens nodded. “I think that is a very good idea.” He ran his hands through his greying hair. The stubble of his beard was beginning to show through, and Chonrad had seen him rub his leg repeatedly, as if it were beginning to ache. “Let us break and return at… shall we say, Sextus Campana? Please take the time to rest – we have cleared the Custodes Barracks and placed all the dry bedding there, so you are welcome to visit it if you need to sleep. Any food not damaged has been collected and is in the Quad.”

  He sighed. “Undoubtedly, while we are resting we will be thinking about what has been said here today. We have heard many unusual things, things we would not have considered even possible a few days ago. But in the light of what happened yesterday, I feel we cannot dismiss any notion out of hand. So please, keep your hearts and minds open and think about what we have learned, and what part you can play in securing Heartwood and the land, and by that keeping safe the lives of the people who live there.”

  V

  Chonrad stayed behind with Valens and watched everyone file out, bar Fulco, who refused to leave until Chonrad did. He smiled at Nitesco who, face drawn with exhaustion, picked up the Quercetum and left, promising to get some sleep before returning to the Armorium for more research. Chonrad knew if he went to the book room in an hour he would probably find the young Libraris dozing over some parchment or other.

  Procella glanced at him but did not stop to talk as she left. She had said very little during the discussion and he could not read what she was thinking. He resolved to go and find her in a short while and make sure she was resting.

  The three remaining knights sighed simultaneously, and then laughed as they did so. “Are we growing old?” Valens rubbed his knee more obviously now it was just the three of them in the room. “By the oak leaf, my leg aches.”

  “Did you wound it further in the attack on the Curia?” Chonrad took a seat on the stone steps.

  “No, but I do find physical exercise increasingly makes it sore.” Valens came to sit beside him and Fulco sat further down with a sigh, his own wound obviously troubling him. “What do you think of what you have heard today?”

  “That we are all elementals, but have just forgotten our ancestry? Honestly?” Chonrad smiled wryly. “I find it all a little fantastic. And yet I have no answers for what I saw yesterday. The way the water warriors just arose from the water, like figures made out of shadows… How can I explain that, except by accepting the information I have learned?”

  Valens nodded. Then he yawned. “I simply must get a few hours’ sleep,” he said. “Are you going to join me in the Barracks?”

  “Yes,” said Chonrad, his eyes dry and his limbs heavy with tiredness. They all heaved themselves to their feet and walked out of the Capitulum and into the Temple.

  As they passed the Arbor, however, Valens stopped. Chonrad paused beside him, following his gaze to see the roots creeping over the dead bodies laid out on the Sepulchrum, wrapped in white sheets. He turned his back, sickened by the sight.

  Valens caught the movement. Walking once more to the entrance, he said, “The Feeding bothers you?”

  Chonrad shrugged, following him, but knew his face gave the game away. “It is not something I have been used to.”

  “I suppose it must seem an unusual sight to those not accustomed to it.” Valens pushed open the door to the outside world, flooding the place with light. The three men blinked, going out into the Quad. The sun was out, although light rain still fell from the storm clouds gathered to the east. “It is something I have grown up with since the age of seven.” He turned his face up to the sun. The rays shone on his grey hair, turning it silver. “And yet I wonder now whether the ceremonies we have carried out all these years are correct. It is so unsettling finding out everything we have lived for so long has been a lie.”

  “Not necessarily.” Chonrad fell into step beside the Imperator as they walked past the baskets of food collected from around the Baillium. His stomach growled, but he was too tired to eat. He did, however, accept a flagon of ale from a servant. “We do not know yet which stories are true and which are fictitious. Though he did not have all the facts at his disposal, Oculus clearly made the best out of what he could glean.”

  “I suppose.” Valens crossed to the central road and the three knights walked down in the sunlight.

  Chonrad began to feel hot in his armour and wondered whether he could risk removing it for a few hours. “Do you think Nitesco was right, and we can expect another attack at the High Moon?”

  Valens shrugged. “I have no idea. The theory makes sense though and, in spite of his lack of years, the Libraris seems to know more about what is occurring here than I do.”

  Chonrad smiled, glancing around as he walked. The Baillium looked a good deal tidier. Most of the debris had been collected and placed in neat piles, the wood separated from the cloth and the cloth from the food, to make it easier to reuse the materials. The grass still had a flattened look to it from the weight of the flood water, but the sun made everything look brighter and less frightening. There was also a beautiful rainbow arching east, which somehow gave him hope things were going to be all right.

  They arrived at the Barracks and Chonrad walked into the large building. Makeshift beds had been placed in all the rooms on the ground floor, most of which were filled with sleeping people, exhausted from the night’s activities. The twins were fast asleep, heads tipped back as they snored, and Grimbeald, still in his armour, settled between two other Militis, seemingly at ease in his surroundings in spite of being the only Wulfengar present.

  Chonrad could not see Procella. Leaving Valens talking to Beata, who had removed her armour briefly and looked much younger and slender in just a linen tunic, he went up to the first floor and searched the beds there too, but still could not find Procella.

  He was desperate to lie down and fall asleep, but he knew he would not be able to rest until he made sure she was all right. Leaving the Barracks, he went outside, Fulco yawning away on his heels, and paused for a moment, wondering where she would be. He looked around the Baillium. In the Castellum? Perhaps in front of the Arbor? But no, he had just come from there. A
sleep in the dormitory of the Domus? He frowned, looking around, and then the Porta caught his eye. Where would the Dux feel more at home than in the place where she had grown up, at the very centre of Heartwood’s defences? He looked up. Sure enough, a small figure at the top of the gatehouse leaned on the parapets and looked out over the Baillium.

  Sighing, he walked down the central road towards the Porta, said hello to the Custodes on duty and walked up the stairs. This time, Fulco stayed at the bottom, clearly having found it difficult to climb the steps.

  When he got there, Procella was still leaning on the parapet. “I saw you coming,” she said flatly, not bothering to turn around. “What do you want?”

  Casting one eye up at the rain, he sighed and came over to stand beside her. “To see how you are.” He leaned close enough so their mailed arms almost touched.

  She didn’t move away, but neither did she move closer. She turned her dark brown eyes on him for a moment. He had thought to see them shot through with anger, but to his surprise they were sad, a shimmer of tears hovering like a silver fish below the surface of a river.

  He smiled at her. “It is not the end, you know.”

  “Is it not?” She glared at him. “How would you like it if you found you had wasted your whole life defending a lie?”

  Chonrad had meant it was not the end of Heartwood – that they were going to do their best to get back the Pectoris. But she clearly thought he had been referring to Oculus and the revelations in the Quercetum.

  Impatience flared briefly within him at her self-pity, but he quashed it. This was not the time to tell her to pull herself together and get back on the horse. Like a heated pot of water, she needed to vent some steam, and unfortunately he realised he was the one who was about to get scalded. “That is not really true,” he told her. “You have spent your life defending the Arbor, and Heartwood too. I would hardly call that a wasted life.”

  She dismissed his words with a flick of her hand. “You all like to spend your time in discussion using big words and fancy arguments. You have not dedicated your life to Oculus’s lie – you could not understand.”