Heartwood (33 page)

The next day dawned much as the previous few weeks, but Beata finally felt in a better mood. Achieving their Quest would not bring Caelestis back, she knew, but still it would go some way to making her death have meaning; she would not have died in vain if they found Teague and brought him back to Heartwood.

It was the last day of the Lamb Moon, and it had been raining almost continually for the whole of its fifteen days. The second Moon of the Stirring, the Bud Moon, was usually a joyous time at Heartwood, Beata thought as they mounted their horses and set off from the village. It was a celebration of the renewal of life, when everything began to show signs of recovering from the Sleep, when the whole of Anguis began to awake. But the world as yet did not seem to show signs of awakening. The continual rain had drowned a lot of the early seeds, and the oaks she had passed so far had been bare of buds.

The river they had followed all the way from Lornberg had widened considerably as they got nearer to the coast, and Beata was shocked by the sheer amount of water thundering along its course, its colour an unhealthy brown, a clear indicator of the earth it had churned up along the way. Everywhere, the ground was waterlogged, the horses having to plough through thick mud as they plodded their way along the road.

Still, it was good to feel lighter of mood, and Beata almost felt like singing as they began to see houses peppering the sides of the road, a sure sign the town wasn't far away. They went on for a mile or two in that manner, the houses becoming larger and closer together, and then rounded a hill to see in the distance a high ridge topped by a large, long defensive wall. Leading up the slope towards it, streets began to leave the main road and weave across each other like threads in a blanket. Beata's heart beat a little faster as the amount of traffic increased and the roads became harder to negotiate. They made their way up the slope and passed under the massive portcullis that hung suspended from the gatehouse. As they got to the opposite side and the road began to go downhill once again, she stopped her horse to stare at the view, and gasped.

The ridge curved in a ring around the town of Henton, which lay sheltered amongst the hills like a stone inside a peach. Atop the westernmost edge of the ridge, overlooking the sea, perched the “Castle on the Rock”, a huge stone edifice consisting of a mish-mash of turrets, crenellations and walls that surveyed the goings-on in the busy town like a stern fighting instructor watching the practice moves of its students. If it had been a person, she thought with amusement, it would have had its arms crossed and a frown on its face.

The town spilled down from the wall right to the topmost edge of the beach, which curved from one end of the ridge to the other like the silvery strip of the crescent moon that would soon appear in the night sky. It was a bustling community, the roads filled with carts and people, easily the biggest settlement she had ever seen.

But the thing that won her attention most of all was the sea. She had never seen it, and although she had often heard others speak about it, she had never been able to truly picture it in her mind. Now she just stood stunned at the sheer amount of water in one place, watching the grey waves crash onto the shore like angry warriors beating on each other's shields.

“Get a move on!” yelled someone behind her, and she realised she was blocking the road. She nudged her horse along the ring road at the top of the hill leading to the castle, thinking that was obviously the best place to start, as the villagers Peritus had spoken to had mentioned Teague had performed at the castle.

“Isn't it amazing?” Peritus said now, moving his horse alongside hers. “I have imagined often about how the sea would look, but had never dreamed it would be like this.”

“It is a truly stunning view,” Beata admitted, but already her mind had moved on to other things. “Peritus, there is something bothering me. I had planned to go straight to the castle, explain our plight and ask to see Teague directly, but I am now not sure that is the right way to approach him. I wonder whether we ought to go in disguise and assess the situation.”

“Disguise?” He stared at her. “You mean a false moustache or something?”

“Not quite,” she said with amusement. “But we are quite conspicuous wearing our Heartwood armour. Perhaps we should… dress down a little.”

He took some convincing to go into the castle without his armour, but they took a detour via a group of shops and she showed him what she had in mind, and eventually he agreed. They walked the horses to a cluster of trees a short distance from the castle and she took off her armour and changed into her new outfit as quickly as she could without drawing attention.

She had bought herself two tunics, of the kind and quality, she hoped, a lady of a countryside estate might wear when visiting family on the coast. The first tunic was a deep green and long-sleeved, and reached to the ground, just covering her new small leather slippers that felt decidedly strange after her heavy leather boots. Over the top she wore a thigh-length short-sleeved tunic of a lighter green. She uncurled her hair from its usual tight bun at the nape of her neck and let it fall around her shoulders in light brown curls.

She came out from behind the tree hesitantly. She had lived almost her entire life in some form of armour or other, and had no idea whether she could even pass as a real lady. As soon as she saw Peritus's face, however, she knew it had worked. His mouth fell open, and he found himself completely speechless, even though she glared at him and told him to close his mouth before flies flew in it.

She made him take off his armour, and they rolled up the mail and jerkins and attached them to the back of their horses. In just his breeches and leather tunic, he could easily pass for her manservant.

They rode up to the castle and left their horses in the front courtyard with the stable hands, and were shown by the steward into the Great Hall, which was much bigger than the ones at Cherton and Hicton. The Hall was pretty much empty, as the servants had not yet started preparing for the early evening meal, and everyone else was out on errands or business around the town. They were then left to have a look around while the steward went to fetch refreshments for them.

Beata let out a long breath as he left the room, relieved her disguise had worked. Peritus sat himself at one of the long wooden tables, but she still felt too nervous to sit, so she began to walk down the Hall, looking up at the banners that hung limply at right angles from the wall, depicting the coats of arms of various members of the Lord of Henton's family.

Looking up as she was, she did not notice a figure asleep in the shadows and stumbled over him, causing him to awake with a curse and sit up and glare at her.

“Watch where you are walking…” he began, but his words ground to a halt as he saw who had just trodden on him. “My lady…” He got hurriedly to his feet – a task obviously not easy for him, thought Beata wryly, for he was clearly drunk as a man on his wedding night. He swayed slightly as he stared at her, his eyes wandering lewdly around her body before they finally focussed on her breasts. “Arbor's roots,” he exclaimed. “What a great pair of pillows.”

Behind her Peritus snorted with laughter, but she ignored it and glared at the drunken lout before her. “Excuse me,” she said icily. “I think you should mind your manners.”

He blinked. Then, in an affected attempt to act in a lordly fashion, he gave a drunken, lopsided bow. “My dearest lady, please accept my humblest apologies.” It would have been a gallant gesture, except for the fact that as he arose he let out a deep, rumbling belch. To her amazement, as he did so a cloud of rose petals emitted from his mouth and floated delicately to the ground in front of them.

She stared. He stared back and then grinned. “Did that surprise you? Well that's nothing. You should see what happens when I fart!” And then he collapsed in guffaws of laughter to the ground before quickly falling back into a drunken sleep.

Beata stared at him. She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't witnessed it herself. But realisation gradually sank in that it was clear from the rose petals – and his brilliant golden eyes – that this drunken idiot was the magical Virimage who was supposed to save the world.

 

III

Gavius stared at the person before him who looked just like his twin brother, although he was certain it could not possibly be him. However, he had no answer for who this person really was and, until they revealed their true self, he had to go along with the game.

I want you to explain to me why you have sent me to my death
, Gravis had said. Gavius's brow furrowed. “I do not understand,” he said. “Why have I sent you to your death? You agreed to take on the Quest as I did. I did not force you into anything.”

Gravis nodded. “A true Gavius answer. You could not possibly have done anything wrong. I do not think the words ‘I was wrong' are even in your vocabulary.”

Gavius said nothing for a moment, struggling with his irritation and anger. His success at this game depended on his ability to keep calm. “Tell me why I am wrong,” he demanded. “How exactly did I force you to go on the Quest?”

Gravis stared at him directly, his dark blue eyes sorrowful. “You know what I am like. You know how you influence me. I have always stood in your shadow, followed along behind you. I could not bear to admit I am not strong enough for this role. You could have stopped me – argued you needed me with you. But you let me go, knowing I could not cope on my own.”

Gavius did not reply, outwardly calm. Inside, however, his stomach churned. He could not deny the truth of some of Gravis's words, and it singed his cheeks with shame. But not all he said was true. “I did not think you could not cope on your own,” he said honestly. “I know I have always been the strong one. But I had no doubt in your abilities, or else I would not have let you go.”

“Would you not?” Gravis taunted. “Or were you secretly just glad to get me out of your way? Are you not relieved you do not have to think about me now?”

Again truth twisted like a blade within him. How could this person – whoever they were – know about his most private and personal feelings?

“I…” He was loath to admit the truth, but on top of this most powerful energy centre, he was somehow being tested, and the truth mattered. “I admit there have been times I wished you were not always hanging on my every word. I have often hoped you would spread your wings more and follow your own path in life, rather than shadowing mine. But that stems as much from a desire for you to be true to yourself as from a longing to be on my own.”

Gravis took a step forward, and his eyes blazed like a storm in a hot Harvest sky. “Liar.”

“I am not!”

“Search your feelings, brother, and search deep. Falsehood has wormed its way within you like a maggot in an apple. You are rotten to the core.”

Gavius felt sick. In all their years together, Gravis had not spoken to him thus. His brother was a kind and gentle knight in spite of his warrior upbringing; Gavius had not thought he had a ruthless bone in his body. And still his brother had not finished.

“You believe I was only taken into Heartwood because of you. All this time, you think I owe my place there to you.”

“That is not true,” Gavius protested weakly, but this person could see into his heart and knew the truth before he uttered the words.

“Of course it is true. Why else would you have been so patronising all my life? Treated me like your pet dog, sniffing at your heels?”

Gavius finally exploded. “Well, what else would I think? You did appallingly badly at the Allectus; failed practically every test we took there. And yet they still took you on, in spite of there being many other better candidates.”

Gravis gave him a nasty smile. “Well, I have news for you. Before I left Heartwood, Valens let me into a little secret. Actually it was the other way around.”

Gavius's heart seemed to stop. He didn't want to ask, but he had no choice. “What do you mean?”

“He told me Abbatis Aquila chose me first, and decided to take you on only because he knew I would miss you so.”

Gavius's teeth clenched. “That is not true. I came top in the tests. I beat every single one of those children.”

“And it made you exceedingly arrogant. What is one of the main attributes of a Heartwood Militis? Humility. Well, I am afraid you were at the back of the line when that was given out. The Abbatis thought you overbearing and conceited for a seven year-old. They wanted children they could mould to their own image. It was not actually about doing well in the tests; it was about proving you had a suitable character for the job. The Abbatis told Dulcis before he died that he wanted to send you back. He thought me a far more worthy candidate. But one of the Deans said I would find it difficult to stay without you, because I loved you so. So they kept you – because they wanted to keep me.”

Gavius felt cold inside as if he had swallowed an icicle. The sharp piece of ice travelled down his throat and into his stomach, piercing his heart along the way. Was this the truth? How was he to know? There was nothing stopping this person making up whatever “truth” he wanted.

And yet something about it rang true. Deep down, wasn't it what he had feared all along? It was true he had always believed Gravis to be a favourite of Dulcis; they had often taken long walks together in the evenings, whereas he had always felt her to be somewhat cool towards him. He had put it down to imagination, but now it made him wonder. Gravis the chosen one…

Gavius felt someone had scooped out his insides with a spoon, then scoured them with a rough brush. He felt raw as an open wound. He looked up at the figure before him, seeing his twin smiling as he observed his brother's pain. Was he wrong? Perhaps this
was
Gravis, or at least a projection of him. Perhaps this
was
Gravis talking, and he actually did feel this way.