ARC: Sunstone (34 page)

The lava buried Demitto’s sunstone where he had dropped it on the ground as he fled the falling ash, and with its disappearance, Horada’s connection with the other timelines dissolved, and the Apex collapsed.

She crumpled to the ground in a heap. Figures rushed to lift her, but grief and loss combined with physical exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she passed out.

When she came to, she lay on a bed in a darkened room. It was empty, apart from one person sitting in a chair by the bed, his head in his hands.

She turned onto her side, her whole body aching, and looked at him fondly. “Hello, Julen.”

His head snapped up and relief flooded his face. “You are awake!”

“So it seems.” She smiled tiredly. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.” He picked up her hand and pressed it against his cheek. “I thought I had lost you.”

“It was not I who fell.” Grief rolled over her and tears trickled down her face.

“Horada…” He moved close and pulled her into his arms.

She cried for a while as she thought of her oldest brother, remembering the way his form had suddenly seemed to take all the fire into itself and had disintegrated into ash that blew away in the wind.

“All those people,” Horada whispered, burying her face in Julen’s tunic. She could not shake the memory of the ash falling and smothering the bodies.

“I know.” He stroked her back.

“I cannot believe Orsin was responsible for it, Julen. How can we live with the fact that we let him down so badly?”

He hesitated, and then he pulled back to look at her. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, and he took her hands. “The thing is,” he said, “the Nox Aves are certain that the Apex
needed
to happen. Nitesco described it to me as how sometimes a field of wheat stubble has to be burned and the field rested before the crop is grown again. In the future, for whatever reason, the Arbor knew that fire would rise and it had to die. Because of this, the Nox Aves believe that it engineered for the events to happen the way they did.”

“You mean it
made
Orsin betray us?” Her voice filled with horror.

He tipped his head from side to side. “Not made him betray, exactly, but I suppose it knew he had the strange connection with fire and it contrived for him to be tempted, because it suspected what would happen. Orsin fulfilled his purpose the same as we all did.”

She clenched her fists. “The Arbor made him kill all those people. How could it have done that?”

“I cannot pretend to understand its reasoning. I am not a scholar.”

“We are just pawns in its game of life,” she snapped, dashing away more tears. “If the future is so set in stone then why do we think we have any say over what happens to ourselves at all?”

“It is the price we pay for its love,” said a new voice from behind them. They turned to see their mother standing in the doorway. Horada stared – Procella wore a simple green gown, and her long blonde hair, peppered with grey, hung loose around her shoulders. She looked beautiful, but exhausted.

She came forward and sat on the side of the bed, taking her daughter in her arms. She kissed her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I ache, but my head is clear.” Horada fingered her mother’s gown. “Why are you dressed like this?”

“I have been holding a vigil,” Procella said.

“For Orsin?”

“Yes.” Procella’s eyes brimmed with sorrow, but she looked calm. “I know I failed him, and I cannot make any excuses for that. When I saw him fall, I was filled with such guilt that I did not think I could survive the pain. I spent two days and nights by the Arbor, battling with my feelings, trying to understand. I hated the tree for taking your father from me, for what it has done to us all, and now for taking Orsin from us. For a while I did not want to live. It hurt too much.”

Procella’s gaze had drifted away, her eyes shining. Horada bit her lip and squeezed her mother’s hand, and Procella’s eyes focussed. She smiled. “But last night, your father appeared to me.”

Horada’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

“Yes. He told me I must not blame the Arbor for the events that have unfolded. Our connection with the tree is a special, holy one, and it called on us because it knew we were able to help. I thought it treated our lives lightly, but Chonrad helped me understand how much value it places on our sacrifices, and how much it loves us.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I regret not being able to see Orsin again, and to tell him that I do love him and I am sorry for not treating him better. But Chonrad assured me he is at rest now, and he will always be a part of us, here.” She touched above her heart.

“And what now?” murmured Horada. “The second phase of the Apex – Tahir told me he lived five hundred years in the future. Can we not warn them? Tell them to prepare an army, ready themselves for the Incendi invasion?”

Julen shook his head. “They will record much of what happened in the
Quercetum
for future generations. But what we must take away from this is that we cannot –
must
not – try to change the future. Heartwood
will
fall, and the Arbor
will
die. Nitesco has said that we must not talk about what we have seen to anyone. The Nox Aves will record what they think future generations need to know. And we have to trust in them.”

“It is strange to think of the people we saw in the future,” Horada murmured. “Those who were banished underground – how will they fare? And the woman with the baby. What will happen to her?”

Procella smiled. “We may never know. But we must rest assured that we have fulfilled our role in the course of history, and that is all we can do.”

She and Julen continued to talk about future events, but Horada lay back and closed her eyes, tired again. She thought of Cinereo – of the fact that he had been formed from all those who had gone before. Orsin would now have joined them, and one day she herself would become part of him too.

All life is a cycle…

She yawned and stretched, turned over and settled down to sleep. She would grieve for her brother in the proper manner, but deep down, she had seen enough of death. She rested a hand on her belly as she thought of the baby that had been born beneath the new Arbor’s leaves. Perhaps one day she would get married and have children. And maybe those children would be the ancestors of those who played a part in the Apex.

Life leads to death, and from death springs life…

It was time to start living.

II

Deep in the mountainside, Demitto sat with his back against the wall of the cavern and drew Catena into his arms. She sat with her back to his chest, and where he rested his hand on her ribcage under her breast, he could feel the steady, reassuring beat of her heart.

It had been a chaotic day. As the cave entrance had collapsed and filled with rubble, the refugees had moved deeper into the cave system and waited for the clouds of dust to clear. Sunstone pendants crafted by the Nox Aves and hung around the caves provided them with a source of light.

As the dust settled and they went back to investigate, it had soon become clear that they would not be able to clear the cave entrance. Hundreds of massive boulders that they would not be able to move filled the way out. Manifred, Demitto and the other Nox Aves members had gone through the supplies that had been stored away for the past few hundred years, but although they had tools and weapons and plenty of building supplies, they knew they would not be able to make anything strong enough to lift the heavy stone.

They had come to that conclusion with a positive outlook, however. They had suspected this would happen, and presumed that the Arbor had blocked them in on purpose to keep them safe from the volcanic lava as well as to make sure the Incendi elementals did not discover their presence as they took over Anguis. Now all that remained was to speak to the people who had followed them down into the caves, and to allay their panic and explain that they had prepared for this eventuality.

“My friends,” Manifred began, and waited for the talk to die down. He stood atop a flat shelf that protruded from the cavern’s edge, and widened his arms to encompass the hundreds of people sitting huddled in small groups. They were from all walks of life – some were rich dignitaries who had been visiting Heartwood for the Veriditas, others were town guards or council members, some were merchants and ordinary townspeople, even some of the poorer folk from the outer districts of the town. Old and young alike, they comforted each other during this hour of need.

“My friends,” Manifred said again as everyone fell quiet. “I think by now most of you will be aware of the events of the day. The volcano above Heartwood has erupted, and we believe the lava has completely destroyed the city.”

Shock registered on everyone’s faces. Demitto tightened his arms around Catena and touched his lips to her shoulder, thanking the Arbor that she was safe.

But of course, the Arbor was dead. He screwed his eyes shut, unable to believe it had actually happened.

Manifred continued, “The cave entrance has been blocked by boulders too heavy for us to clear. We have no way of knowing what is happening outside, so for now we have to come to terms with the fact that we will be here for some time.”

He waited a moment for everyone to digest that news. Demitto opened his eyes and glanced around, wondering what they were all thinking. The Nox Aves had come to the decision that they would not discuss the Apex with everyone. They would keep to themselves the news that they were probably the only remaining people alive in the whole of Anguis. Hope would be the single most important thing that would keep everyone alive now. Hope that one day they would make it to the surface again.

“However, it is not all bad news,” Manifred continued. “At it happens, the Nox Aves have been using these caves for storage for some time. We have supplies, tools, materials and food. We have been investigating the plants and animals that live within these caves, and we managed to bring many things down with us as we fled.” Secretly, the Nox Aves had been working to discover what kinds of animals – from dogs to goats to chickens – would survive in the caves, and whether plants that usually flourished on the surface could grow in the dark, moist depths.

“We are well prepared for our new life,” Manifred said. “We
will
survive.”

“What of the Arbor?” someone called out. “Is it… Is it dead?”

Manifred’s face remained impassive. “We cannot know. We need to have hope that the Pectoris is safe – that the tree will regrow. My friends, I know many of you have lost people close to you. Tonight, we will sing songs and shed tears to mourn them.”

Catena wiped a tear from her cheek, and Demitto knew she must be thinking about Tahir. He swallowed down the lump in his throat that appeared as he thought of the young lad and how bravely he had offered himself to the Arbor. How different would things have been if he, Demitto, had joined Catena and spirited Tahir away instead of delivering him to his fate? Surely he would still have died? Manifred had assured him that the world above their heads was now destroyed – that they were indeed all that remained. Tahir’s sacrifice to the Arbor had enabled the tree to keep them safe in the mountains, and the Apex had ensured that, in the future, a new Arbor would grow. He had to hope that was the case, and the boy hadn’t died in vain.

“So tonight we will mourn,” Manifred said. “But tomorrow, we will rise from the ashes and our life will begin anew.” He glanced across at the two volumes of the
Quercetum
that Demitto knew lay in a wooden box. Manifred had rescued them, determined that their history would not be forgotten, that the Nox Aves could continue to exist to guide their people.

Someone started singing, and voices gradually rose around them, even as tears flowed down everyone’s cheeks as they remembered loved ones they had lost in the great fire.

Catena sang with them, but Demitto stayed silent, too overwhelmed with emotion. He leaned his head back on the cave wall and let the tears come. Sorrow for Tahir, for Atavus who had lain at Tahir’s feet and refused to move, for the Arbor, for all those who had fallen around him and who he hadn’t been able to get to the Cavus in time.

The wave of grief swept over him, and then it passed by, leaving in its wake a lightness of heart he had not expected. He thought of the visions he had been shown of the future – of the baby being born, the new tree taking roots and the green grass growing through the blackened earth.

Catena took Demitto’s hands and rested them on her stomach, and he understood what she was trying to say. One day, their children’s children would rise again and banish fire back to the mountain. The Arbor lay dormant for now, silent as The Sleep, but one day The Stirring would come and their people would climb out of the caves and find their true place in the world. This was a temporary state of affairs, and no matter how long it took, they would reclaim what was rightfully theirs. The part they had all played in the Apex had ensured their future, even as it doomed them to darkness. But it would come to an end.

One day.

III

Sarra walked down the grassy bank and sat on a flattened boulder by the water’s edge.

It was nighttime. The sun had set, flooding the horizon with red, which had sent them all into a panic for a while, thinking that the firebird was returning, but the red had faded to purple, then to dark blue, and at the same time the Light Moon had risen in the sky to shine its pale light down across the new world.

She looked up at the white sphere, remembering the way everyone in the Embers had been awestruck to see it appear in the Caelum. What would they think if they could see it now? And the stars – she tried to count the twinkling forms but there were too many of them, scattered across the blackness and glittering the way minerals had glittered in the rockface deep in the caverns.

Would they ever cease to compare everything on the Surface to what they had known below ground? It must be natural to find comfort in what was familiar. And this was their first experience of night-time, after all. Oddly, she felt more at ease now than she had felt in the daytime. The bright sun had hurt her eyes and the whole dramatic events of the day had been overwhelming.

But now she felt at peace, tired and ready for sleep, but wanting to spend just a few more moments enjoying the view before she returned the small distance to the makeshift camp they had created beneath the new tree.

Thinking of the Arbor brought tears to her eyes as she thought about the fact that Geve would never get a chance to stand beneath its branches. She felt a huge sense of loss at his death and the knowledge that she would never again see his bright smile. She couldn’t help feel a swathe of guilt too because he had loved her, and she had never been able to return his love in the way he had wanted. And he had known that – she had seen that resignation on his face when he had surrendered to the Arbor and given up his life. He had accepted his fate because he had known that even though she had promised herself to him, she had not felt in her heart the same way he had felt about her.

The grief washed over her, and she closed her eyes. The night air brushed across her lids, cooling her skin. By her feet, the new stream tinkled away merrily, sounding strangely like singing. No, in fact it
was
someone singing, she could hear them.

Sarra held her breath as she listened. She had heard the same melody at the moment that the Apex had broken and the connection with the past had severed – they had all heard it, and had been certain it was the Arbor itself breaking into song. Now, she could hear lots of voices joined in harmony. Gradually, one grew louder than the rest. She recognised the voice, had listened to him sing to her many times in the common rooms. It was Geve.

A tear ran down her cheek, but it was a tear of joy, not sorrow. He was letting her know that he was all right. Though his physical form had perished, his soul had gone on to live within the Arbor, and at that moment she knew she would carry a little piece of him forever in her heart.

A hand touched her shoulder, and the singing voices grew quieter until the only sound was the bubbling stream.

She turned to look up at the person and saw it was Comminor, and he held her baby in his arms, wrapped tightly in a blanket.

“He is hungry,” Comminor said with a smile.

She smiled back, took the baby and put him to the breast. He suckled hungrily, and she stroked his thatch of dark hair, thinking of the way it would grow into brown curls like Rauf’s. The man who had led her out of the darkness and into the light had looked healthy, affluent and happy, and it gave her hope that the future was going to be bright.

Comminor lowered himself down next to her, sitting close, his arm brushing hers. They sat contentedly and listened to the bubbling brook, bathed in the silver moonlight.

“I never knew the Light Moon would be so beautiful,” he said, looking up at it.

“It is all beautiful,” she said, glancing up from the baby’s face to see the small plants and flowers growing at the water’s edge, at the trees that were now waist-high in the fields. Their growth was slowing, but they could still see leaves unfurling, almost joyful in the cool light.

She lifted her head to look at him. “What will we do about all the people still in the Embers? We cannot leave them there.”

“Of course not. I do not know how, yet. But we will find a way to get a message to them. Every single one of them deserves to see the sun.”

Sarra opened her mouth to reply, but beneath her the boulder shifted and she stood, startled, the babe in her arms still sucking at her breast. “What was that?”

Comminor stood too and turned to look at the rock. A crack had appeared in the top, and as he pushed down on the front half, it gave way and broke into pieces, falling into the river. His eyes widened with surprise. “Look!”

Sarra walked forward and bent down. The middle of the rock was hollow, and it formed the distinct shape of a dog, lying curled up.

They stared at it in wonder. “Do you think this was once a real dog?” Sarra whispered. “From the past?”

“Who knows?” Comminor dropped to his haunches and brushed his fingers on the inside of the rock, following the shape. “Perhaps he guarded the old Arbor. He might have been here at the end.”

They studied it for a few moments, and then Comminor pushed himself to his feet. They turned to look at the new tree.

It arched up into the night sky, way above their heads, its branches stretching across the grassy slope, its thousands of glossy leaves shimmering.

Beneath it, Nele, Josse, Viel, Paronel, Amabil and Betune sat curled up around the sunstones, which still held a remnant of their fiery glow.

“I am sorry about Geve,” Comminor said, surprising her.

She dropped her gaze back to the baby and stroked his cheek. “I will miss him. But his sacrifice will enable us all to live again.”

She took a deep breath and looked back at the man beside her, whose grey hair seemed to reflect the silvery moonlight above them. “I did not love him, you know.”

Comminor went still, and then he looked down at her.

“I mean, I did love him, but not in the way…” She swallowed. “Not in the way I love you.”

His eyes searched her face. Hope blossomed within them like the flowers that bloomed by the water’s edge. And he lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

The Arbor rustled, and Comminor lifted his head and laughed. Sarra smiled, hoping that Geve could be happy for them. One day she would join him in the tree’s embrace. Until then, she would give Comminor her heart.

Life leads to death, and from death springs life…