Chapter 7: A Voice in the Grove

Alistair

We wandered into a grove of birch trees during the night and had to camp or collapse. Birch trees seem to whisper more than other trees when they sway, like they are desperate to impart secrets to any who will listen. When you are sleeping in an entire grove of them, such whispers can seep into your dreams. After my turn at watch I listened to the trees until I drifted off to sleep.

Then I heard it: a voice was calling my name deeper within the grove. It wasn't a voice I recognized though it sounded familiar somehow. Looking around the fire I saw Ser Grey and Forthwind were sleeping soundly, but Svenya was not there. Where she had been sleeping she had left behind her bag, but I was worried when I saw her mask discarded on the ground. I quickly got up, walked over to where the mask lay and gently picked it up, noting that it felt strangely warm, as if it had only just been taken off. Examining it more closely I found that that one of the thongs had been snapped, as if someone had forcibly removed the mask from her face. Someone had forcibly taken her, but who could have done it without waking the rest of us?

The voice called again, but it was too distant and weak to tell if it was Svenya's voice or someone trying to lure me into the darkness beyond the campfire. I gripped the mask in one hand and my sword in the other, looking at Ser Grey and Forthwind, still asleep. Forthwind was injured and could not travel fast, plus Svenya observed that he had a fever earlier which made leaving him alone a bad idea. I debated waking Ser Grey, but his admonishment from earlier came back to me, "You cannot compromise the mission, or your position for that matter, for the sake of protecting one woman." He would argue to leave her to whatever had taken her. The longer I waited I enabled whoever had taken Svenya to get farther ahead.

"Damn it," fuming to myself, "if Ser Grey isn't awake he can't stop me. She risked her life to save us from the mercenaries, why should I do any less for her, king or no?"

Without another thought I walked cautiously into the grove towards the direction of the voice. If I used the darkness to my advantage and kept low perhaps I could sneak around them and rescue Svenya.

The voice continued to call and I continued to follow, moving with more certainty when my eyes began to adjust to the dark. The branches scratched my face, but I didn't care. I walked for a while and the sky seemed to become lighter, looking like gray heather on the hills surrounding Redcliffe and it wasn't such a struggle to see. It looked like dawn was coming, but I didn't think I had been walking that long.

The trees began to thin out and I found myself on the bank of a river, farther up the bank I saw three figures: two standing and one on the ground. That had to be them. With so little cover there was no way I could sneak around and surprise them, so I decided on the direct approach.

Rushing forward I confronted them; the two standing turned to face me while lowering their hoods and revealing that they were women. They did not appear threatening or angry, if anything their expressions held concern or pity, but that meant nothing. Things aren't always what they seem on the surface. I remained on my guard, sword raised, and demanded, "Let her go!"

"We hold no one captive, we merely guard one abandoned," explained the woman on the right, standing closer to the trees. Her white dress brushed the ground with its hem, her dark hair hung in loose tendrils around her face and her cloak was a mottled gray, as if it were wet in spots from rain.

"Then she will be able to get up and leave with me and you will not follow." I challenged, edging forward slowly to the figure on the ground while keeping my attention on them.

The other woman on my left, closer to the water, spoke up then. She was wearing a charcoal colored dress and a black cloak. She stated, "They are bound."

"You mean `she is bound' and you will untie her." I enumerated angrily, jerking my head toward the figure on the ground.

"No," the darkly clad woman stated in a softly hissing whisper.

The other woman echoed, "No," though her whisper was more of a cross between a rasp and a croak.

"Why not?" I demanded, losing patience.

"No," the dark woman repeated, though added with a murmur, "`They are bound,' for they are two that make a one."

"No." The gray and white clad woman muttered her explanation, "We cannot untie knots we have not made."

Now we were talking in riddles. Lovely! These had to be witches. All I needed now was for them to turn into a pair of dragons like Flemeth and I would be nice and crispy.

I sighed and tried to reason with them, "Then will you allow me to untie this person and take them with me."

"It is not our place to hinder here, only to help," the woman in gray informed me.

"This is not the one you thought you sought," dictated the other, "but it is the one you needed to find."

I shook my head to clear some of the soft fuzziness that was beginning to crowd and jumble my thoughts. The anger and rage were abating, leaving only vague confusion in their wake. It was as though I was trying to remember something that I was having difficulty recalling. For a moment I stopped to look at the figure on the ground that was covered by what I thought was Svenya's old homespun cloak. The person's size was too large and bulky to actually be her. Great, I was playing word games with two witches over the body of a complete stranger. This had to be some kind of trick.

"Then, if this is not Svenya," I inquired slowly, still holding the sword that was starting to feel heavy and useless, "who is this?"

"The one you left behind," intoned the woman in black, as if she were stating something obvious.

The one I left behind? I puzzled. Is she referring to Forthwind or Ser Grey who I left back at the camp? Did someone bring one of them here and tie them up?

"You were lost," the other woman took her turn speaking, "and you found your way back here."

"Back here?" I sputtered, "But I've never been here before! We got lost in the woods trying to find the path in the dark and Svenya led us to this grove."

"True, you were led here," the black one soothed, "you found a place where the boundary is thin and returned to where you had been."

Boundary? Things were in floating pieces in my head, but the word seemed to trigger something, "Is this the Fade?"

"Yes," was the gray clad woman's affirmation, "you have returned to the border you cannot cross. It is not your time. You have been here before and abandoned the one to keep the other," nodding to the figure on the ground.

"You sought one with a mask, but carried your own," the other woman was backing towards the water.

"If this is the Fade then you must be demons!" I raised my guard again. I presumed that I had fallen asleep and was being held by sloth demons who were trying to use me to cross over to my world. Thinking back to my Templar training, I readied a countermeasure to any spells they could devise and demanded, "Release me!"

"We do not hold you," the right one murmured as she brought the hood of her gray cloak back up to conceal her face. "Your only prison is one you have fashioned."

"We do not bind you," muttered the other, making a mirroring motion with the black cloak she was wearing. "We cannot free you."

I roared with frustration, "Where is Svenya?"

"She is in another place beyond the Veil, safe for now," the gray woman answered as she too backed away, though she moved towards the trees, "But blood must be paid, a choice must be made: will it be the mask or the scars? We cannot say!"

"You have your choices, she has hers," the woman in black was almost at the water's edge now, "though cut from similar cloth, you were woven on different looms. How you stitch your lives together is entirely up to you."

"Where you go from here, fractured king, is your own path to find: follow Honor, follow Love or follow the imperceptible path between," the gray woman was almost overshadowed by the forest.

Then the women transformed simultaneously, melting into new forms seamlessly. The woman stepping into the water became a black swan and glided away into the mist on the river. The other woman at the edge of the tree line turned into a moderate sized white and gray dappled bird and hopped away into the brush of the birch grove. Confused and not knowing which way to turn or what to follow, I yelled, "Hey!"

Alone, except for the figure bound on the ground, I carefully made my way toward it. The bird women had said it was the "one I left behind" but I still didn't trust it. All I would have to do is pull back the cloak and some terrifying demon or monster would lunge at me. I just knew it.

When I got close enough I used the tip of the sword to pull it back quickly so that I could stick whatever jumped up at me, but I was to be disappointed. No foul fiends went for my throat.

Underneath the cloak was a man in armor with his hands and feet bound and his back to me. I thrust my sword into the ground to make it easier to grab the hilt if the need arose and began to untie the man, but I felt more at ease. It had to be Forthwind. He had a fever and sometimes fevers bring strange dreams. Who is to say that he didn't just wander into the Fade in the throes of such a dream?

"I'm sorry I left you behind," I apologized, crouching next to him.

"Just help me get this helmet off," the man groaned, "I feel like I'm suffocating in here. Didn't you hear me calling?"

That made me start and object, "But you couldn't have called, Forthwind. You were in the camp when I heard the voice calling to me."

Feeling suspicious, I started to make a reach for the sword just as the man pulled off the helmet and turned to me with an air of amused annoyance. My mouth gaped open, but no sound came out and I scrabbled backwards like a crab, desperate to put some distance between us. The man sitting near me looked exactly like me, as if I were looking into a mirror. Seeing my horror, my double chuckled, "Did you miss me?"

I screamed. I screamed in a tone only reserved for milkmaids who find carefully placed frogs in their buckets. Springing to my feet, grabbing my sword, I turned to face my doppelganger only to stand there blinking in confusion, once again. The man in armor was gone, the river was gone and I was back in the camp threatening the campfire with my sword outstretched.

I had awoken Ser Grey, who was struggling to his feet and unsheathing his sword, thinking that we were under attack again. Svenya awoke and, perceiving no cause for alarm, peered at me from across the fire and rubbed her eyes. Forthwind was groaning. He had tried to get up too fast in the commotion, aggravating his injured leg, so Svenya crawled to him, eased him back against a tree and examined his wounds.

"What in bloody blazes is wrong with you?" griped Ser Grey, collapsing back to the ground after scanning the woods and finding us alone.

"Nightmare?" I wavered, still not entirely sure I was awake. I kept standing there, not ready to lower my guard, thinking things could change at any moment.

Ser Grey groaned and grumbled to himself as he lay back down and tried vainly to return to sleep. Forthwind joined him in this endeavor, leaving Svenya awake and watching me. After a few more moments of me standing there she eased herself to her feet and approached gingerly, as if she were afraid of spooking me. I watched her come closer, considered pointing my sword at her, but thought better of it, opting to remain still.

On seeing me watch her, she smiled reassuringly and came to my side. When she reached me her eyes took on a mischievous twinkle before adopting a manner of mock examination. She circled me a moment and used her foot to nudge my left leg back. Then she instructed, "Lift your left elbow a little." To this I complied, confused but calm.

Then she placed her hand on my forearm, gently but firmly lowering the sword ever so slightly and ventured; "Now you are in a perfect Alber stance, or am I mistaken?"

Exhaling the breath I hadn't been aware of holding, I considered her pronouncement a moment before responding, "No, I believe you are correct. I look like a Fool."

The floodgates opened then and we began to laugh until we dropped to the ground and the tears rolled.

"Since the two of you fools have decided that you have gotten enough sleep, we can break camp. The sun is starting to rise anyway," Ser Grey rumbled with irritation sharpening each syllable. He sat back up and began to gather his gear.

The dregs of our laughter receded into light chuckling as we complied with Ser Grey's command. Svenya changed Forthwind's bandages and we lifted him back to his feet as he became more awake. I scraped together a sparse breakfast for the others and chewed my own thoughtfully.

The dream was becoming a foggy memory. As I tried to repack our provisions, I tried to review the night's meanderings, but some of the details ebbed or became unfocussed. I couldn't recall the faces of the two women or much of the conversation. There were scraps of phrases that I could vaguely grasp if I concentrated hard enough.

"You have been here before and abandoned the one to keep the other."

"…follow Honor, follow Love or follow the imperceptible path between…"

"… How you stitch your lives together is entirely up to you."

"But blood must be paid, a choice must be made: will it be the mask or the scars?"

"Well, your Majesty," observed Svenya, as if reading my mind, "That must have been a hideous nightmare to cause you to scream like a woman."

"My dear, a man never screams," I specified, "if anything I howled or shouted."

She looked thoughtful for a moment before insisting, "No, no, I'm pretty sure that was a scream."

"Perhaps you heard a screech owl in the words and thought it was me," I quibbled.

She glared at me wryly, "Perhaps you are not a king, after all; perhaps you are a princess?"

I quickly stuck my tongue out at her before taking a swig from the water skin with a conspicuously extended pinky. This action caught her unaware between bites and she snorted with surprise before nearly choking on her breakfast. This prompted Ser Grey to start smacking her on the back to dislodge what had gotten stuck in her windpipe. When she recovered, Svenya tried vainly to regain her composure but failed any time she cast a glance in my direction.

Forthwind joined in the fun, urging in mock seriousness, "Now ladies, behave with proper decorum," before Ser Grey bestowed a sour look that could curdle a whole cow and Forthwind bit back his chuckle.

"Bloody Hell!" sputtered Ser Grey, "What has gotten into you lot?"

Not having a feasible answer, Svenya offered, "I will go and try to find another marker," getting to her feet and walking away from the camp with her shoulders still shaking gently.

When Ser Grey was sure she was out of ear shot he turned toward me and pointed, "Your Majesty, I suggest you follow her so that nothing unfortunate befalls her."

"Ser Grey," I mused, "I didn't know you cared."

Ser Grey raised his eyebrow and I felt that I had gone far enough. Getting to my feet, picking up my sword and trotting after Svenya I reassured, "Your wish is my command, sir."

"And Arl Eamon was worried he had become too morose?" I heard Ser Grey wonder somewhere behind me.

I couldn't account for it either, but I had to acknowledge that I was starting to feel lighter. Catching sight of Svenya carefully examining a tree and looking puzzled, I slowed my pace and stopped a few feet away to avoid startling her.

She seemed to sense my presence because without turning to look at me she marveled, "This is interesting."

"What?" I inquired, moving to stand beside her and get a better view of what she was scrutinizing. Carved into the tree were a series of markings. My guess was that it was Avvarian runes, but I couldn't be sure. The Chasind people to the south would make standing stones or rock markers and carve runes in them, but I hadn't seen them mark trees. I presumed it was because tree markers would be unreliable because, over time, the tree healed over them. That meant these runes were inscribed recently.

I asked, "Is it a warning of some kind?"

"Not exactly," Svenya allowed, "it seems to be a sign put here by another traveler. I think it says, `Lady Ptarmigan Wood.' It may be the name of the grove, but I'm not sure. I'm not adept at reading runic."

"What's a ptarmigan?"

"It's a type of bird, white and gray colored, about the size of a small chicken. More than likely a large number roost here because they eat birch buds and things that they find in groves like this." She explained, illustrating the relative size of the bird with a motion of her hands.

I thought of the gray and white clad lady in my dream. Was it a coincidence? I couldn't resist, "Are these birds special?"

"Sort of," Svenya recalled, "Bruna told me a story once where a ptarmigan found the heart of Korth, the Mountain Father, a god that the Avvarian people worshipped. He bound and imprisoned his heart in the mountains. I am having trouble remembering some of the finer details of the story since it has been a while, but the bird rolled it out of its hiding place because it was too heavy to lift. Once out in the open, the heart called to Korth, longing to return where it belonged. When Korth drew near the heart leapt back into his chest."

My own heart leapt slightly and I muttered, "That sounds a little too easy."

"It is just a story, but you're right. Another god had to use iron and ice to secure it," she offered, "maybe it had problems fitting again because the god had grown without it? Either that, or the heart grew without the god?"

I just nodded, very aware of a fluttering in my chest, as something was struggling inside me. For a long time I had felt empty or confused. At that moment something felt different. I felt the urge to laugh and cry and run shrieking into the woods, waving my arms. I didn't dare do any of those things, for fear Ser Grey would assume I had gone mad, but the impulses were still there.

"That reminds me of something else that Bruna had taught me about birch trees," Svenya pointed at me, suddenly becoming excited. She then started back toward the camp. It took me a moment to follow because I felt distracted, but managed to catch up.

She went right to her pack and pulled out more linen strips that she had been using to dress Forthwind's injuries. Taking out her dagger, she made shallow cuts just below the bark of one of the birch trees and collected the seeping water into the cloth strips. She applied what she had collected to Forthwind's leg and it soothed some of the pain, making it easier for him to move.

Ser Grey approved, grudgingly, "That was useful. Try to think of it sooner next time."

With Forthwind moving more easily, we were able to retrace some of our path from the night before and find the trail that we had lost in the darkness.

As we walked, I was watchful and kept Svenya always in sight. The fragments of the dream that I was able to recall haunted me: "But blood must be paid, a choice must be made: will it be the mask or the scars?"

A new feeling resurfaced, helplessness. Something was coming and the foreboding in my gut communicated that it would be something beyond my ability to control.

"Why frown, your Majesty?" Svenya teased me from farther up the path, urging me forward, "More nightmares?"

I smiled ruefully, "No new ones, only old ones."

"That will not do!" She exclaimed, "You have a face not made for frowning. Though your nose is crooked, you need not bend it so out of shape. Shame on you! What did your nose ever do to offend you?"

"You have obviously not taken a deep breath near me lately. Your nose would be offended too. I desperately need a bath." I moaned playfully.

"Here, here!" piped up Forthwind with a grin, "I'll vouch for that!"

"Oh, the loyalty!" I griped, but couldn't help smiling.

Forthwind defended his statement with a counterfeit wounded look, "You spoke the truth, sir. I felt it would be dishonest to disagree."

"Next time I recommend that you lie!" I replied, "Remember where you sleep!"

"Any time we are in danger of forgetting we can take a deep breath and we'll know." Svenya offered back.

My heart skipped giddily again as I shook a vengeful fist in her direction, imitating Ser Grey's disapproving scowl. Grey had accepted that scolding us was futile and opted to ignore us instead.

The day's journey seemed light and easy compared to the care worn previous day. I was able to assist Forthwind over the rougher patches of ground and he winced less at the rocks. Svenya tried to regale us with light stories of a cocky rooster being flattered by a fox and we chuckled to ourselves over the ludicrous images the stories created.

That night we stopped at a copse of fir trees. When I lay down to sleep I noted the difference between the sway of the fir trees from the whisper of the birches the night before. There were no calls that night or women transforming into birds, just a peaceful oblivion of a dreamless sleep. Sometimes the Maker offered us small mercies.