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Petyr nearly laughed. He’d never met anyone like Shallah before. She said the most astonishing things in the most straightforward manner. It was delightful.

“Come, tell me the truth,” he said. “How did you manage all that travel? There has to be some secret.”

“How did you know to fight when you were in danger last night?” she asked. “You were never trained as a fighter, still you knew to hit and slash and run. It’s the same with me.”

“But it can’t be that simple,” he said as they came upon a log and he slowed to step over it. “If I hadn’t told you this log was here, wouldn’t you have walked right into it?”

Shallah reached out to find the log and jumped gracefully over it.

“I might have,” she said, “in an unknown wood like this one. But if I’d been on a path I knew well, and had been walking cautiously, I would surely have smelled the rotting wood, and felt the fallen bark underfoot. It isn’t an easy feat, but it’s by no means impossible to find your way without sight. Trees grow in the same patterns no matter where you roam. Animals make their homes in the same way here as anywhere else. It’s a matter of knowing the forest intimately, of making it your ally. For, if you can’t see, the forest itself is your only guide.”

“Rotten luck when it turns against you, then.”

“Quite,” she agreed grimly, “which is why I’m so grateful you chose to help us.” Peter grimaced. Hadn’t they been over this already?

“You’re my hero, Petyr,” she said solemnly.

“Now, that’s quite enough of that!” he said sharply, stepping up his pace.

Shallah burst out laughing. Petyr came to a standstill as he realized she’d been teasing him.

“It seems it’s not only we maidens who don’t know how to take a compliment,” she said, her voice full of glee. Petyr could do nothing but set his jaw and bear her good-hearted ribbing. It felt good to hear laughter again.

They journeyed through the dark for much of the day, moving north, for Petyr had already scouted to the east and west. It wasn’t easy going. The undergrowth was as dense as ever and Petyr no longer had the freedom to dart through it as he had – not with a child in his arms and Shallah following close behind. It took an hour to move no more than a dozen yards, and several times they were forced to halt as he cut through the underbrush with his axe.

As a welcome distraction, Petyr began his explanation of the oaks, though he was careful of the words he used, so as not to alarm the boy. He described it all: the bear cub, the cage of roots, his narrow escapes. When he came to the messenger owl he noticed that Shallah kept nodding, as though she’d just understood something. He left out the obsessive loathing he’d felt. He hardly understood it himself. He felt as though he’d been under a spell for those days, and was only now waking from it. But though he gave the subject a wide berth, he had the feeling Shallah caught on just the same.

When they stopped to eat, he started in on the happenings of the night before. Shallah sat with her injured leg stretched out before her and Liam in her lap. They ate their meagre fare quickly at first, but their chewing slowed to a standstill as Petyr wove his tale. Little Liam listened in wonder, sucking vigorously at his thumb, as though he were being told a fantastical bedtime story.

Tell me you remember it, Petyr wanted to beg him. How else can I be sure it happened at all?

When it came time to describe the climactic moment, Petyr found himself hesitating. He’d not thought back on what he’d seen before this moment. The images were clear in his mind: a shrivelled leaf unfurling, the woven cage within the blast of white, the figure at the centre beating like a heart. The trouble was no matter how he tried to put it, he found the words too ludicrous to utter. He cringed at his own description, aghast that Shallah might think him daft or a liar.

She looked at him with interest.

“Was it sunlight?” she asked.

Petyr hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they snapped open at her words, the first she’d spoken in hours.

“I wouldn’t know it,” he said with relief.

“No, of course,” Shallah said, shaking her head.

Liam looked at Petyr with a child’s drowsy calm, his mouth hanging open, moist thumb held an inch from his lips. Were these the fingers from which the light had sprung like flames from a torch? Petyr turned his gaze away.

“And you say the wood came to life?” she said.

“Like the grasses after a springtime shower – suddenly alive and bright with colour, only brighter still.”

Shallah stroked Liam’s arms absently. “Yet these oaks don’t seem to be creatures of the light,” she said. “More like beasts of the deep. Why would they use light?”

“To frighten me off?” Petyr said.

“It doesn’t quite fit,” she said pensively. “Oh, we won’t figure it out this second. Go on, I must hear the rest.”

Once he’d told it as best he could, Petyr leaned back against a trunk. He adjusted his arm in the sling and winced at the stabs of pain. His wounds were certainly real.

Shallah had closed her eyes and was rocking Liam slowly. Petyr watched her by the flickering light of the small fire he’d made. She was such a different creature than he, so often silent when he would have shouted, then prone to laughter at the oddest moments. Yet already he found himself getting used to her ways. He waited for her to speak. He knew she would, in time.

“I haven’t given you as much credit as was your due, Petyr,” she said finally. “The battle I imagined … well, it certainly didn’t measure up to the reality.” She paused. “I would have been so afraid in your place,” she said honestly.

“I was terrified,” he said quietly, admitting it for the first time to himself. “I’ve never been so frightened.”

Shallah nodded sympathetically. “There’s still so much I don’t understand,” she went on. “Why at the very beginning did they take Liam and not me? If these oaks are so intent on killing, why would they give up such easy prey?”

“It confuses me as well,” Petyr replied. “From what I’ve seen, they kill anything that crosses their path.”

“And why didn’t they do away with him instantly, as you say you’ve seen them do before? This cage high up in the air … the glowing light … What was the purpose of it? It doesn’t add up.”

“Unless …”

“Unless their intent wasn’t to kill him at all,” Shallah finished.

The weight of those words hanging between them, Shallah and Petyr both shifted their attention to Liam himself, only to find him trembling, his golden eyes riveted on a half-eaten apple that had fallen from his hand. He hardly reacted when they called his name. As Shallah fussed about him, he raised his gaze to meet Petyr’s, a ghostly look upon his face.

It chilled Petyr to the bone.

Chapter Sixteen

“I shudder to think of all the frightening things he’s seen on this journey,” Shallah said, once Liam had finally dozed off. “He’s only four years old. He should be laughing and playing, not contemplating his own demise.”

“At least in sleep he can find some peace. If only we didn’t have to wake him.”

“It’s a shame,” she agreed, “but it’s best to keep moving.”

“Yes,” Petyr said, but his voice held little conviction. The fire was down to its embers and he poked at them with a stick. “I have to be honest with you, Shallah. I fear I’ve given you false hope. I’ve explored this black wood from one end to the other, without meeting another soul. We might travel northward for days and find it’s all been for naught.” He threw the stick into the embers, sending sparks swirling above their heads. “I’ve the salvation of Trallee depending on me, and with each passing minute I feel it falling further from my grasp.”

Liam stirred in his sleep. Shallah remembered her despair when she’d thought him lost. Her heart went out to Petyr. He lived with the fear of that loss every moment.

“You’ll find your way,” she said. “I know it.”

“How can you be so certain, when you’re as lost as I?” he asked beseechingly.

Throughout the day Shallah had felt as though some insight was hovering on the outskirts of her mind, hiding among forgotten memories and nonsensical dreams. Now, faced with Petyr’s hopelessness, she felt her mind settle, and the answer she’d been searching for came into focus in a crystal clear image.

She wound her cloak around her arms and legs, tenting herself in its warmth. The smouldering embers sat between her and Petyr, dividing them. She felt as though, with her words, she’d be inviting him over to her side. She dearly hoped he would join her.

“Have you ever had a dream that seemed like no dream at all, a dream you felt sure was meant to tell you something? I dreamed such a dream last night. It was the same dream I described to you yesterday, the same dream I’ve had over and over again. Only now do I realize what I was meant to see.”

“What was it?” Petyr asked, his voice soft as a boy’s.

“You remember how I described it to you? Liam and I, you and your children, all gathered by the water’s edge. And I have my sight again.”

“I remember.”

“But there’s more. Liam is giggling, and we’re chasing him through the tall grass. You catch him and place him on your shoulders. I look up at you – you’re smiling – and behind you both … I can see the trees.”

“Behind us?” he said, puzzled.

“Yes,” she said. “We’ve left them behind.”

“What are you saying?” Petyr asked hastily. Shallah heard a desperate note in his voice. It was never easy to give up the ideas you’ve held for so long.

“I think it’s time to leave this wood,” she said.

“I told you, I’ve been trapped here for days,” Petyr admonished her. “There’s no way back with those beasts working against us.”

“No, I don’t mean turn back,” she said calmly.

“Then what
do
you mean?” he cried.

Sensing his frustration, Shallah became matter-of-fact. “I think we’ve come to the edge of this wood,” she said, “and if we continue on we’ll find the end of it. I believe what we both seek is beyond the trees, on the other side.”

“On the other side of what?” he asked confusedly. “Beyond what?”

“Beyond the forest, in a place where there are no trees, a place where you can see the sky.”

Petyr let out a snort. “There is no such place,” he said testily. “Everyone knows there’s no end to the forest. That’s the stuff of children’s tales.”

“You called my father wise yesterday for having imagined a place where the water goes on for miles,” Shallah countered. “Well, I think it’s more than imaginings. I think that place is real, a place where children play in the sand and the sun shines.”

“The
sun
!” he exclaimed incredulously.

“You can’t tell me you’re still afraid of it,” she said, raising her voice for the first time. “Those were superstitions. You know this!”

Somehow, Shallah’s display of emotion seemed to diffuse Petyr’s anger. “I know it,” he said quietly. “I do. But playing in the sunshine …” he shook his head. “It still seems impossible.”

“It did to me as well,” she admitted. “Yet I believe in this place more and more. I look at this child, at his bronzed skin, and I know he doesn’t come from our darkened world. Amaria had it right. He does come from the light, and we have to go there as well.”

“But we don’t share the same goal, Shallah. Leaving this forest may save the boy, but I have to save Trallee.”

“I think our goals are one and the same. There’s no water left here. I think we’ll both find what we seek … out there.”

“Even if such a place does exist,” he said diplomatically, “how ever will we find it? The dark oaks want to keep us here. They won’t let us see the way.”

“Then we’ll defy them,” she said.

Petyr heaved a sigh. “It’s not so easily done,” he said dourly, turning away.

“Petyr,” Shallah said steadily, “you told me that a great change was taking place in this wood. Remember? Well, I was told a similar tale of a dying forest which had been used abominably ill and grown angry. We’re no longer wanted here, my friend, and if we don’t flee I think every one of us will perish.”

“How can you know this?” he asked, scepticism etched into his every word.

“The forest told me so,” she said.

She considered telling Petyr about the prophecies, but decided it might be too much to handle at once. Until now she hadn’t realized how thoroughly the old woman’s words had embedded themselves in her mind. In fact, she’d nearly forgotten about her altogether. But now her predictions rang loud and true. It occurred to her that if the prophecies were true, Liam would lead them to safety. If the prophecies were real, there were two more waiting to be revealed.

Petyr was quiet for a long time.

He thinks I’ve gone mad, Shallah thought.

She couldn’t blame him. All this talk of dreams and the wood’s desires … it sounded ludicrous! But she knew he wouldn’t be able to dismiss her outright. Already she knew how his mind worked. He would acknowledge that the forest was going through some change, but his first concern would be his children.

She was right.

“I won’t abandon Trallee,” Petyr stated firmly.

“I would never suggest it,” Shallah replied.

“But how can I help them by running away?”

“Not every escape is cowardly, Petyr. It’s you who showed me that. If we find our way out, we’ll return for them.”

“The people won’t abandon their homes so easily.”

“I’m sure they would choose it over death.”

“Would you give up your home, the village where you were raised? I can’t imagine leaving Trallee forever.”

“It’s the only way,” she pleaded. “The life of this place is vanishing; the animals flee, the leaves shrivel, the water dries. We have to go as well.”

He could protest no further.

“So we have to leave the forest behind,” he said, “and move away from all we’ve known.” He sounded so broken-hearted.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Shallah replied.

Petyr took his head in his hands. The fire was dying out, the smoke rising between him and Shallah, obliterating her from view. He felt very much alone. It brought him back to the days before he’d met Shallah and Liam, before the black wood, when he’d been travelling through the forest on his own. Each of those two days had seemed an eternity. He’d thought only of Trallee and his children and the fact that he was their only hope.