Into the Deep Wood

It was already morning by the time Ivan returned.

When he left the night before, she thought it would be a few hours at most, but he walked in with the first rays of the morning shining at his back.

“How did it go?” She brought a hand to her eye and wiped an eye booger away, blinking. She saw how tired he looked, surely up all night.

Sitting on the bed beside her, his hands went slack, and his eyes focused somewhere on the other side of the room.

“I wish I knew.” He said. “By the time I made it to the King they all thought I was a lunatic. He allowed me to speak more than the generals had, but, I think that man - Lord High Templar Iros - was the only one to truly take me seriously.”

“Iros?” Val repeated, something stirring within her memory. “High Templar…”

Oh gods but she knew who that was!

“He is here?” She saw the question on his face. “I’ve met him, long ago. I do not think he would remember me now.”

“He did not seem to when I said your name.”

“What?” She stood, looking down at him in disbelief. “Ivan, what have you told them?”

He did not have a chance to answer. The doors opened without a knock. Behind them stood General Asim and three others.

“Your presence is required in the Alabaster Palace.” He said, but his face had not been welcoming. “You will be relocating there. Please, get your things.”

Ivan stood but the General put a hand up to stop him.

“Not you, scoutmaster. I am sorry. These were the orders of the King.”

“Don’t worry,” he turned to Val, speaking quickly and in a hushed tone as if the men were not only a few feet away. “They won’t hurt you. I’ll find you as soon as I can. It has only to be a precaution. I know these men. I trust these men.”

There was uncertainty in his voice.

She heard it, and she saw the panic in his eyes. Perhaps the King had not taken the news so well that a Witch walked freely in his city.

Eyes on his, she did not say a word when she was led out of the room. The door shut with Ivan looking after her but not daring to move.

“All-Father, but what have I done…”

They led her through long halls of glossy white stone. Each brick was uniform with the one next to it, with several leaning into one another to create arches over the open walkways.

They passed gardens shaded by the overhanging walls and fountains flowing with a soft murmur - eroding the pathways built for the water. Statues of women in decorated white robes stood throughout the twisting plants, facing the groves of little white flowers at their feet. In the air hung a fragrance of jasmine and wild rose, so strong that Val began looking for the fresh bouquets.

She thought, surely, she would face imprisonment, but instead, they led her to a large, spacious room. The bed inside was positioned at the center, with gentle white curtains swaying at its sides.

“General Iros sends his regards.” General Asim said sourly. It was clear that the two men had been at odds at least often enough that running an errand for the other caused great animosity.

He nodded to her, and not knowing what to do she bent at the waist and did a half bow. She saw his eyebrows raise ever so slightly before he and the other men walked out.

Val turned to look at her new quarters. There were windows, columns, and even a wooden door leading to a balcony. This was not a prison at all.

A bit behind the bed stood a stone half-wall. She discovered with delight that a small clear bath was built into the floor below it.

“Thank the gods…” She was embarrassed to even think about how long it had been since she had bathed. But, just as she was about to strip and get in, a knock sounded at the door.

She approached hesitantly and opened it, peeking out.

A woman stood outside.

She was simply dressed and her skin was slightly dark, tanned by the sun. She was much younger than Val.

“Numisrah.” The woman bowed her head and did not raise it again for a few moments. When she did, the blank look on Val’s face must have told her that further words would be fairly useless. She smiled awkwardly and held up a piece of measuring tape.

Val stepped aside to let her in. The woman took her hand and had her stand in the middle of the room as she measured Val. When she was done, she bowed her head again and hurried out of the room. Val looked down at the clothes she wore. They were tattered and dirty. They bore the scars of being caught on branches, sleeping in the dirt, and countless times being wet and dried without ever having been washed. She must have smelled terrible.

Even in the warmth, she had not removed her gloves. Now, stripping down by the bath, she looked at her hands while peeling them off - stuck to her skin with sweat. The cuts healed into scars, but they crawled from her fingertips to her elbows. There were a few that had been far deeper and now protruded out. Those had been from the winter beast.

A reminder of her failure.

Getting down into the bath, she allowed the warm water to make her weightless. Her head leaned back. She willed herself to think of nothing else but the sensation on her skin.

Still, where was Ivan? She wondered.

He was upset when she left, but she could not help but feel a certain anger inside. She did not know how much he had said or how he presented it. She was fairly sure he still thought her to be a Witch.

The door opened without a knock. She ducked behind the stone half-wall, pressing up against it. After a few moments, it closed again - and when she got out, she found a linen dress laid out on the bed. It was simple, sewn of soft thread, so long it went down to the ground. Its sleeves were long - to protect her arms against the sun. It was of Southern style. She’d seen such in the past two days.

Dressed and stepping out on the balcony, she could see the city below. Many of the homes had people lounging on the roofs with sheets of fabric covering them from the sun. There were pools and small gardens within the enclosures of their walls. There was so much life here, so much greenery, whereas, from the outside, the city was white and cold.

Another knock at the door, restrained but strong. When she did not answer, it came again.

“Valeria.” Familiar voice.

“Come in…” She did not say it loudly, but her heart thumped. She knew the voice.

Iros entered the room, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

He, too, bowed—the way she had.

“Are you well?” He looked around, examining the details of the room. She saw a certain nervousness in the movement of his eyes.

“I am, thank you.” His face was familiar. He looked like a different time in her life, when she met him in Titan’s Pass… All Father’s Reach, a masterfully crafted bow. And, Him.

“Do you remember me?” He asked.

She shook her head, yes, but a lump in her throat at the memory prevented her from speaking. Self-consciously, she pulled at her sleeves over her wrists, regretting not having put on her gloves to conceal the scars.

He breathed out a deep breath and strolled further inside.

“I must speak to you. Before you are brought in front of the King.”

“What will happen to me?” She asked quietly.

“Rest assured, nothing unfavorable.” He told her. “But, you must be honest with us so that we may protect you from the superstitions of the South. The man who brought you here had said a lot of things that have unnerved the people.”

Gods, Ivan.

She sat on the edge of the bed.

“Ask, and I will tell you.” Val agreed.

There did not seem to be a choice. She did not know what Ivan had said, and did not know what she could not.

Iros began pacing, and she did not think it had been a conscious act.

“He’d said you see visions. Of things that are and were. I need you to tell me how.”

“I had only seen them one time, and it was through no doing of my own.” She answered.

“I know what you have gone through in your life.” Iros turned to her. “But you must tell me or I cannot advocate for you.”

“The Hag showed them to me…”

He did not seem phased by this.

“How did you find the Hag?”

“I felt her in my dreams, and I followed her there.”

“How did you get there? To the capital? The palace?” It was not frustration, it was simply a list of things that he knew the King would ask, she realized. This was a rehearsal, not a test.

“Ivan helped me.” She said. “And then, a curious noblewoman.”

“Valeria,” He sighed, “we are at war. It is deep winter. If you go and tell the King that you and a southern man - regardless of how skilled - crossed a hostile country - found your way to and in the capital - then broke into the great room of the Obsidian Palace, he will hang you. But first, he will laugh you out.”

“I’m Nothing-touched…” It was almost a whisper, and it slipped out as if a feather in a draft - to catch would have been simply to drive it away from your hands. He stopped, this time his brows drew together.

“How do you know?”

“I spent a long time in the woods. When these things reach out to me, I can reach right back.” She said. The man’s face looked trustworthy, but more than that - she knew that there was a time when Typhonos had stood up for them. And when Iros had said that they would protect her, she trusted that as well. “I spent so long there that even time stopped paying attention to me. The creatures do not come to tempt me with a trade that would entrap my mortal soul.”

Iros sat down beside her. His face remained troubled.

“You must not speak of this to anyone.” He said. “Speak if you must that you can reach back. Do not ever say that you are Nothing-touched.”

He met her eyes.

“Who else knows?”

“Ivan.”

He absent-mindedly bit at his left thumb.

“I mean it, Valeria. No matter who you see or meet in the coming days, you must never speak of that. No one.”

“I will not.” She paused. “...did he use the word ‘witch’?”

A slight grin appeared on Iros’ face.

“No. He spoke highly of you. That you knew many things and could serve the crown in the war. He is just young, did not realize.”

“Thank the gods…” She sighed.

“Tell me,” this had been a different tone, “who is that man to you?”

She tried to read his face, but it was only kindly.

“My guide.” She said. And Val thought she saw a sliver of relief flash in his eyes.

Iros stood and took a few paces toward the door. When he stopped, it seemed like he was debating leaving the room or not.

“Three days. The case your ‘guide’ had made was good enough that the King is gathering the governors of the White Cities. A war counsel will meet; then, they will meet you too.” He said. “But right now, there is someone that wants to see you.”

“Who?”