The humiliation of descending the tree across Torrinth’s back was tempered somewhat by the luxury of closing his eyes to the obscene drop beneath. Even so, the sight that replayed itself across his closed eyes was debatably worse; the dark smudge slowly crawling its way across the valley… towards him! A tight ball of panic was working its way loose from his innards, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming aloud.

When at last Torrinth’s rigid frame came to a halt, the familiar scent of the garden was thick upon the air. James opened his eyes and thankfully touched his bare feet back upon solid ground. His eyes were drawn to the fluttering white robs of a young woman waiting in the shadows. The white silk of Bettiny’s robes reflected what little light remained so that she appeared almost to glow.

As Lord Galen spoke hurriedly with those that had gathered around him, James stumbled forward, seeking out the familiar oasis of calm and security that seemed to radiate from his former nurse. Bettiny raised her head at his approach and for the first time that day looked him directly in the eye. Between her arms she held a bundle of dark material.

‘These robes are for your travel. You must dress quickly,’ she said, offering him the heavy garment.

James took the material uncertainly between his hands and unfurled its dark length between them. After struggling with the copious material for a moment, Bettiny’s delicate hands came forward to help, guiding his trembling hands into the voluminous tunnels of fabric. When the heavy material finally settled across his shoulders, it seemed to add to the weight of expectation Lord Galen had so recently draped upon him.

‘You will need these also,’ she said, stooping to where two scraps of material lay pooled upon the grass.

With grim, mechanical movements, he pushed his bare feet into the soft material, as Bettiny drew upon lengths of cord; drawing the material around his feet and ankles like a mother tying a child’s shoelaces.

‘With these you will be able to walk for many leagues without discomfort. And, should you need to climb, they will provide you with sure footing.’

When Bettiny stood, she held a cloth bag between her hands.

‘Finally, these are provisions for your journey. They will be the foods familiar to you now.’

Only now did James notice the deep sorrow radiating from the woman’s glistening eyes. Bettiny blinked and two silver tears dropped into the darkness gathering between them.

‘I have also packed your old clothing. I tried to wash the blood from the weave, but it could not be released. Nor could I repair the hole caused by the arrow. It is a material unfamiliar to me and resists the silk thread.’

‘Why are you crying?’ James asked, taking the cloth sack between numb fingers.

‘It is a sad day,’ she replied quietly.

‘You aren’t coming with us, are you?’

‘My place is here, within the walls of Galendar. I will protect it, and my Lord, with my life,’ she said, her wet eyes burning with an intensity he had never before seen.

‘But,’ James faltered, ‘you’re just a nurse.’

Despite her gentle sobbing, Bettiny chuckled, her pale face momentarily freed from the quiet anguish that had so recently possessed it.

‘I am not merely a nurse,’ she replied.

And with that, she opened the side of her silk robe, exposing her long, slender leg and the black sword pressed so firmly to her hip.

‘The people of the Gelding are warriors before anything else they might become.’

James took a step backwards in shock.

‘Was that always there?’ he asked in disbelief.

Bettiny smiled.

‘Perhaps you would have preferred it was Torrinth who nursed you back to health?’ There was a flicker of her former playfulness, but then it was gone, like a flame snuffed between fingers.

‘But I need you Bettiny!’ James suddenly pleaded. ‘No one else likes me here! How will I ever cope?’

Bettiny studied his face for a moment as though weighing the unknown capacities residing within.

‘If your heart is true, they will come to see you as I have,’ she said, nodding slightly as though to reassure herself.

She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning suddenly to leave.

‘Now you must go. Farewell Jame, I hope that the next time we meet it will be under more pleasant circumstances.’

And with these last words she walked away through the quiet emptiness of the garden and back into the house.

James stood alone for a moment and realised the great shame burning inside him. The words he had spoken to her came back sounding pitiful and selfish to his ears. Bettiny was prepared to die in the defence of her home and all he had been worried about was himself.

He moved forward, meaning to pursue her and give his apology, but Lord Galen’s voice made him stop in his tracks.

‘Come, Jame, there is little time.’

He stood for a moment on the threshold of indecision, looking at the space she had so recently occupied. But then, reluctantly, he turned, leaving the silent garden behind.

***

James struggled to keep up as Lord Galen swept along the dark corridor. Here the many windows that lined the walls were un-shuttered, revealing glimpses of a dense forest bathed in purple twilight. Despite his growing unease, he was tempted to linger and peer into the alien world thriving beyond the walls, but this time it was Lord Galen’s brisk pace that denied him.

They emerged into another of the cloistered courtyards contained within the rambling walls of Galen’s house. The enclosure was smaller than the last and conspicuously different, for it was built almost entirely of stone. The ground was covered with huge moss-covered flagstones and in the centre was what appeared to be a wide stone well. At the far end of the courtyard was the entrance to a narrow tunnel, barred by yet another incongruous structure; a formidable iron gate.

As though in explanation of these curious additions to the organic structure of his house, Lord Galen swept his hand before them as they walked and muttered, ‘Relics of the past.’

Standing before the dark opening of the tunnel was the group of dark figures James had briefly glimpsed in the watchtower. Hurriedly, Lord Galen now passed along their line, giving each of the strangers a name.

‘You already know my daughter, Leander, and the blademaster of my house, Torrinth,’ Galen said, his pale hand passing in the air between them. ‘You have also met Kirrin, and his brothers, Tavin and Wellin.’

The three men, attired once more in clean suits of dark armour, stopped their quiet conversation and looked directly at him. Their eyes were narrowed and suspicious but they each nodded their welcome.

‘They are the finest wayfarers of Galendar, and amongst the finest blades.’

Finally, he touched the shoulder of a woman James had yet to meet. She was perhaps of middle years, her face broad and framed by two thick tresses of ebony hair which lay across her chest like coiled rope.

‘And finally, this is Fen. She is an excellent arrow-wane and the most gifted melder of my household.’

The woman’s expression remained impassive, but of all the faces turned toward him, hers seemed the most capable of kindness.

James squirmed under the weight of their collective stares and flinched when Lord Galen’s hand finally came to rest upon his own shoulder.

‘You have all heard of Jame and now you see him. Travel with all haste to Kellandria. If the forest allows, Galendar may yet be spared.’

Galen’s hand lingered upon James’ shoulder and gently he was guided back towards the centre of the courtyard, where the stone walls of the well protruded from the ground. With his hands braced upon the moss-covered stone, the tall man stared down into the black hole yawning beneath them. For a long time the man kept his silence. But when eventually he spoke, his voice sounded tired and heavy with regret.

‘My people are honour-bound to me and will ensure that you reach my brother unharmed,’ he said, frowning into the depths of the well. ‘But, you must understand that they do not all share my belief that you are important to the coming war.’

James shook his head in denial, but the lord continued before he could voice his objection.

‘My daughter, for one, does not trust you. Though, she has had enough reason during her short life to despise those that are enemies of our people.’

The troubled lord continued to stare into the well, as though uncomfortable with the sound of his own voice.

‘It will be difficult for you to gain her trust, but gain it you must. Only together can we hope to rid the world of the evil that seeks to destroy us all.’

James’ expression darkened as he realised his fate now depended on a woman who not only had tried to kill him but continued to detest and distrust him. However, it was another, far more unpleasant thought which made him anxiously grasp the sleeve of Lord Galen’s robes.

‘You told me that your brother advised that I should be executed,’ James said shrilly. ‘What’s to stop him executing me the very moment we arrive?’

Galen’s face was still lost in shadow, but the same unnerving uncertainty James had witnessed in the watchtower returned in the cadence of his reply.

‘He will allow you to meet with Kloven-Perrin, this monk of whom I spoke. And, it is my belief that this meeting will reveal your purpose in all of this,’ Galen said, waving a tired hand beyond the walls of the courtyard.

‘And if he doesn’t?’ James said.

Galen’s body seemed to tense slightly within his pale robes but his words were unfaltering.

‘I cannot believe that you are an agent of spite, nor can I believe that you pose any threat to our people. When my brother meets you, he will know the same truth.’

At last, he turned his gaze from the well and faced James squarely, placing a hand once more upon his shoulder. The contact seemed to fortify the other man’s resolve, and mustering a tired smile, he said, ‘Farewell Jame, it has been an honour to know you. Go now in peace, and if the forest allows, we shall meet again.

***

The party emerged from the stone tunnel and into a shallow ravine, overshadowed on either side by the twisted forms of trees. High above, the thin crescent of the larger moon hung in the sky like a shard of glass. But if the green moon still existed in this fantasy, it was nowhere to be seen.

Soon, there was the sound of splattering water and then they were climbing down amongst rounded boulders where a narrow stream trickled between. The air was fresh and carried the sounds of what might have been frogs chirping in the darkness. But the stillness of the evening was unsettling, for it gave no hint of the approaching horde of men, even now marching upon the house.

James lost track of time as they passed out of the ravine and made their way ever deeper into the forest. The three brothers had long since disappeared from view, and now only the moonlit forms of the two women could be seen upon the trail; their restless eyes scanning the trees which crowded all around them. James stumbled along in their wake, followed as ever by the silent shadow of his guardian, Torrinth.

After the two weeks spent confined to the house, it suddenly felt disconcerting to be delving deeper into the construct his mind was generating before him. As the twisted branches of the trees pressed upon them, he thought longingly of the carved room of his convalescence that with each passing moment slipped further and further out of his grasp.

As the journey dragged on, he found himself speculating about where his true body now resided. Was he, at this very moment, under the knife of the surgeon? Was he lying comatose within a hospital bed, his brain damaged beyond repair? Or, most disturbing of all, was he living the final seconds of his life and all of this merely generated by the frantic firing of a billion dying brain cells?

Lost within his own weary thoughts, James didn’t notice the exposed tree roots laced across his path until his foot caught within them, sending him sprawling to the ground. The noise of his fall was loud in the silence of the forest and when he got back to his feet, the pale oval of Leander’s face was scowling down at him.

Turning to her companion, her soft words carried her contempt to his ears.

‘A wild boar would travel more quietly.’

At that moment, the silence was broken by the tremendous roar of raised voices, and as one the four turned to look behind.

To James, the sound was like the joyous cheer of a football crowd celebrating a long sought-after goal. But the voices of this loud chorus held no joy. These voices were harsh and bitter, and carried their cruelty upon the air like an open wound.

‘Forest protect!’ Fen exclaimed, her voice almost lost amidst the roar.

‘Move on,’ Leander said through tight lips. ‘The enemy is upon Galendar, we can do nothing for them here.’

Torrinth’s hand pressed into the small of James’ back and he was jerked back into movement. Cowering within his heavy robes, he trudged on through the darkness, a cold sickness tracing the outline of every bone in his body. All the while, it was the serene face of his nurse that danced within his guilt-ridden mind. The thought that she now faced such a malevolent force made him want to cry. He tried repeatedly to tell himself that none of this really existed, that no one really remained in the house they had left behind. But another voice inside him, a loud and desperate voice, told him that murder would be committed before the night was through.

Hours later, the shouts and screams had long since receded into the silence of the forest as the pale light of dawn crept into the starlit sky. From out of the gloom, two of the brothers suddenly reappeared and with a silent gesture led them from the overgrown path.

They followed a slight incline and soon the trees began to thin as they emerged into a small clearing in the bottom of a shallow hollow. The ground was covered in a soft blanket of grass, a ring of gnarled trees circling the ridge that surrounded them like a dark crown.

James dropped to the ground in exhaustion and watched as Fen un-shouldered a cloth sack. Shaking out a handful of the banana-shaped husks he had seen surrounding the fire inside the watchtower, she proceeded to arrange them into a rough circle upon the ground.

The third brother, who appeared to be the youngest of the three men, emerged from the crown of trees carrying something in his arms. Crouching beside Fen, he promptly tumbled an armful of slender logs into the circle she had created, where they clattered together like dry bones. There was a sudden spark of light from a metal object in Fen’s hand and then feeble flames were licking between the logs, bathing the hollow in flickering golden light.

The last thing he saw before his heavy lids closed was Fen’s pale face, watching him from across the dancing flames.