Chapter 7
The trip through the forest was easier now. It wasn't dark, and the trees were superb guides. Ari circled above, occasionally dipping down into the foliage to land when I rested, her dark beady eyes watching me. According to the trees, the king's soldiers had abandoned their search. Maybe they believed the predators or thieves within the forest would kill me. I hadn't seen any thieves, but I had noted the frequent shadows that slinked among the brush.
“Wolves,” the trees said.
Fear made me pause, and I glanced at the thick undergrowth, at the eerie yellow eyes that peered out at me.
“Wolves?”
Leaves rustled, and I moved forward again, my eyes searching.
“They will not harm you,” the trees insisted.
Strangely, despite my apprehension, the shadows were comforting somehow. Beasts I trusted. It was men I really feared.
“Are there truly bandits within the forest?” I asked.
The brushwood was thick, and I was not following a trail. Even so, the way was easy, as if the plant life anticipated my steps. Bugs buzzed near my face, but they didn't bite me. They seemed to observe me instead, flying close and then ducking away.
“There are rebels within the forest, yes. But they are dangerous only to the king's men.”
Rebels? I had heard Mareth mention rebels in our carriage before Aigneis was killed. I had known Medeisia was a country of unrest, but I suppose I had been sheltered more than I cared to admit. Or maybe I had hidden, pretended as a child would, that our own king didn't want to kill people simply because their blood was different, their thirst for knowledge natural. I realized, quite wearily, that written knowledge only goes so far. Naivety was a whole different kind of senselessness.
I let my fingers skim low hanging leaves as I walked, my mind whirring. My body was stiff, sore, and my stomach churned with hunger. We had stopped once at a moving creek, free of the stagnancy of standing water. I had drunk deeply before filling the water skin I carried in my right hand, but food was harder. I still had dried meat, but I was afraid to waste it.
“Rebels. Like soldiers?” I asked
The wind seemed to chuckle. I was beginning to get used to being laughed at. It should offend me, I suppose, but it didn't. I couldn't learn anything if I didn't ask.
“Desperation breeds armies,” the trees answered.
It made sense. I glanced down at my wrist. I was marked now. I was just as desperate as the rebels. Being branded was a death sentence.
“A soldier of the king told me Sadeemia is accepting refugees who survive crossing the Ardus,” I said.
I may be walking through the forest now, but my journey through the woods would be over soon. I needed a plan.
“This is only rumors. The Ardus is dangerous for all except the creatures who live within it.”
There was a warning in the trees' words. I lifted my head, my eyes on the blue sky. It wasn't cloudy today, and the air was a little cooler than it had been the day before. To me, it seemed strange that I had only left my home yesterday, that Aigneis had died the night before. I shook my head. It was easier to think about what lay ahead rather than dwell on other thoughts.
My calf muscles burned, and my slippers were too thin to protect me from rough ground. I wasn't used to traveling so much by foot. If I was on the trails, I could catch a ride with a Packer perhaps. Packers collected firewood and sold it to towns outside the forest.
“It is my only hope. The Ardus seems less dangerous than the king,” I said at last.
The trees were quiet, almost disapprovingly so, and we traveled this way the rest of the day.
It was fairly dark in the forest, fog filtering in when I finally stopped for the night. I think the trees wanted me to continue, but my legs hurt so badly now, I felt tears threaten the back of my eyes. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want the trees, plants, and creatures that followed me to see me weak. It was easier just to stop.
If I had found it strange being spoken to by trees and followed by wolves, I had reconciled myself with it during the day's walk. I kept thinking of Aigneis, and the stories she used to tell me as a child.
“One day the forest will speak to you,” Aigneis had said. “Do not be afraid of it. Embrace it. For the forest, unlike people, will never betray you.”
I hadn't understood her then, although I had immediately felt a connection with Ari when I saw her as an eyas. The falcon's eyes had called to me, her frightened cries had touched my heart. I had always been that way with animals. Some I connected with more deeply than others, but I had never really connected with the forest. It surprised me now how comfortable I felt with the trees, how content their company made me feel, how easily I acknowledged their presence.
“I think I accept you too readily,” I said to the trees as I settled against one of their trunks.
My feet felt immediately better, the sharp pain easing as soon as I took the pressure off. They still hurt, but not as unbearably bad. I removed my slippers and rubbed my feet carefully.
“Your magic accepts us. That is enough. Your magic knows you better than you do,” the trees said, the abrasive voice softer than it had once been. Maybe trees whispered too.
My eyelids felt suddenly heavy, the exhaustion I had been fighting the last few hours finally catching up to me.
“I have never heard of a mage who spoke to trees,” I pointed out, my speech almost slurred.
There was chuckling again, chuckling and soft touches from leaves that came near and then moved away.
“You are no ordinary mage, Drastona Consta-Mayria. No ordinary mage indeed.”
The words made no sense. Nothing, except the need to sleep, made sense. I didn't even have it in me to wonder at the use of my name. Maybe Ari had told them.
There were so many questions I still wanted to ask, but the darkness was finally too much. It summoned me, and I answered its call.