Luthold approached the two Levonin elders with Adalina on his left and Elder Mildred on his right. Mildred slowed slightly as they approached, allowing him to reach their hosts before her. Is she trying to pass the reins to me? He felt a little pride and a measure of fear as well. Most Hallin remained between the trees around the perimeter of the great meeting space, while those accustomed to speaking at assembly entered behind Luthold. Erlends, too, joined them in the centre.

  The two elders were dressed as lightly as the rest of their clan, but the artwork that decorated their skin marked them out as different. Red lines wove between the green and blue symbols, like a thread of blood that connected them. The woman, Gilda, wore her hair pinned up on the top of her head and watched from narrow, inquisitive eyes.

  "We've had other guests in the last few days, too." The woman gestured behind her to where a small group of Lujin stood. They were shorter than both the Hallin and Levonin and carried more weight around their waists and legs. They sweated under greasy looking leather outfits. Away from the water of their beloved coastline, they looked as though they were struggling in the heat.

  "There are none from the Virunin?" Luthold asked.

  The male elder replied: "The river folk were too far north when the Republic moved. They lie already behind their shadow and our scouts cannot learn what has become of them."

  Erlends stepped forward and pushed his way into the conversation.

  "Then we here today shall decide our fates."

  Gilda drew her lips back into the slightest of smiles. "The gods have decided our fates in the oracles we have read. You are here only to meet us as Seveners before we walk our separate ways."

  "We will not flee from this forest," declared Erlends, "as the Hallin intend to. Nor will we hide in one part of it like you." He raised his voice to a shout and those on the perimeter edged closer to hear him. "We invite all who wish to remain to unite under our shield! Let us go to the apostates and speak for the forest. We will secure this home for you all!"

  The Sullin cheered as Erlends rallied them. Luthold scanned the crowd with alarm. Their warriors now moved among the assembled spectators. He glanced at Adalina and then at Winilind, who leaned against one of the wide trees. Heridan left the crowd and moved towards the centre.

  "I understand the desire of those who would stay," Luthold called. He waited for silence and for the crowd to still. He would not shout over their murmuring. He continued when he held their attention. "We are forest clans and the forest is our home. But we were Seveners before we belonged to these woods. We are the home for the truth we carry, not the land we live on. Our hosts," Luthold gestured to the Levonin, "reminded me of this. Ours is the first dispensation of the gods. Every step we take in this world is our home. There is nowhere we do not belong and nowhere we should be afraid to travel. Perhaps this is why the gods send us Hallin out. Perhaps the world is ready now to hear us and we will go, not as victims fleeing attack, but as their messengers."

  Luthold looked from face to face. Some watched him in admiration while others that had seemed stony or resigned softened with a new hope. We need purpose, he thought, that is all. His eyes met Elder Mildred's and she smiled in relief. She slumped back and sat in the empty seat and looked as though she had un-shouldered a heavy burden.

  “Who knows,” Luthold added, relishing the affirmation, “perhaps on our travels we’ll find a place to live without poisonous thorns and roots that reach up to strangle us.”

  He allowed a moment for their laughter, a welcome relief from the tension, then looked to the Levonin elders. He was about to invite them to speak, when Erlends loudly interrupted.

  “Perhaps you Hallin don’t know enough about Luthold to agree with his grand plan.”

  “It is not my plan,” Luthold retorted. “It is the instruction of the oracle.”

  “Is it?” sneered Erlends. “Are they so clear? Can one who has been so dishonest with his own people, who has broken their sacred laws, so easily interpret divine will?”

  A low murmur broke out, as well as snorts of derision. Someone even shouted at Erlends to step back and Aimar entreated the Levonin elders to send him away.

  A numb feeling crept over Luthold that began in his legs and spread upwards through his body. His mouth went dry. He told himself not to worry. What does this Sullin know about me? He swallowed and ran his tongue over his teeth, then replied hoarsely:

  “Would you care to elaborate, Erlends? And after that, to leave.”

  “You led the way here. And you found your way easily.”

  “It’s a strong path. An easy one to find.”

  “It didn’t seem so easy to me.” Erlends moved an inch forward. “Or I imagine to many others. But then, I have not walked the path before. Have you walked the path before, Luthold?”

  The numbness enveloped Luthold. He felt dizzy for a moment, but then it receded and left a sense of calm. Erlends knew something. There was no doubt about it. How? Do others also know? Did someone overhear me talking to Adalina? There was nothing he could do now but stand and hear what his adversary had learned.

  “I’ve walked a lot of paths, Erlends. Is there a point you wish to arrive at, or are you looking for your own path out of this debate?”

  The crowd laughed, but it did not perturb Erlends.

  “You’re an eloquent man, Luthold,” he said. “More so than I, and I like to think that Manafel gave me a gift in that regard. So, use your words now. Tell us the story of your own journey south. Tell us what you came here for.”

  “Tell us, if there is something to say!” a second voice called from where the Hallin stood. Thilo. I never liked that man. Luthold stared at him and Thilo looked away, but then another familiar voice chimed in, this time closer.

  “Why did you go south, Luthold?” Heridan asked.

  When Luthold gave Heridan the same look, he did not avert his gaze. He held it with his dark eyes, which burned with anger and hurt.

  “I have been south before,” Luthold admitted, affirming nothing but that which was already revealed. “I've never spoken much about that journey.”

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  He hoped that Erlends knew no more. Only that Luthold and his wife had made a secret journey, pretending to travel west and turning south instead. He could find a reason for that, if it came to it.

  But Erlends did know more.

  “You brought your daughter, didn’t you?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

  As one, the crowd moved closer.

  “I've spoken to some of your kin. They say she was sick with a disease like the Raskan fever. Except you told everyone she was cured by medicine from Scursditch.” A slow smile spread across Erlends' face. “Medicine from Scursditch. Now that would be a first.”

  “It wasn’t the Raskan Fever,” Aimar shouted. “Tell him, Luthold. Elder Mildred? Tell him! Adalina never had the fever.”

  Luthold did not answer. Elder Mildred stood and said weakly:

  “One disease can be much like another. There are many fevers and many medicines.”

  Luthold could tell her heart was not in it. Did she know? When the first hairs fell from his daughter’s head, he had taken her. He didn’t wait for the other signs to show.

  “There is no disease like the Raskan fever,” Erlends replied. “And no medicine for it that doesn’t leave a mark. Look at her!”

  He pointed at Adalina, who tried to shrink back into the crowd. It moved aside, leaving her standing in a small clearing of her own.

  “Isn’t she resplendent! Like Raska herself, after she was cured.”

  Luthold looked at his daughter. She was beautiful. Her thick black locks fell about her shoulders and her face shone like the sunlight itself. Her heart shone even brighter. Hadn’t she been worth saving? The secret he had kept so carefully, the one that had singed his conscience every time it rose burning to the surface of his thoughts, was being laid bare before all. He had no strength left to hide it. Before his eyes, everything was unravelling. As his plans and work fell around him, he felt a curious sense of liberation.

  “I came looking for a medicine man,” he admitted to gasps and angry shouts from the Hallin in the assembly. The Levonin seemed untroubled, though their interest clearly piqued. Luthold looked for Winilind in the crowd and found her. Fear battled with relief on her face. Underneath was something else, too. Something he had not seen in a long time. Affection. Pride. He kept his eyes locked on his wife as he spoke and felt as though he were talking alone with her.

  “We were about to watch our daughter die. Our greatest love. We saw her suffer and learned that there is no suffering like the impotent observation of a child’s pain. It bites into you, deep down. So, I looked for a medicine man. There was only one left, my father said, in the South. I broke the law. I lied. But look at her. She lived.”

  “What was the price, Luthold?” Thilo demanded, his voice dangerous and quiet.

  “Healing was a gift from him," Luthold replied

  “In the tales, there is a gift from both sides. What gift did you offer?”

  “He wanted nothing. He asked... he only offered...”

  Luthold thought of Oli and could not bring himself to say it. Then he looked up to see Winilind standing, leaning against Otmer as she cleared her throat.

  “He offered his hospitality,” she continued their confession, “and told us we must lie together that night, beside Lake Silence. We did so, and in the morning our daughter was cured.”

  Luthold remembered it: the flames of fear and delight, stoked by the knowledge of doing something forbidden. They had not lain together since. That last moment of shared passion sealed a pact between them and their wicked host, and they both knew it. Since then, the thought of the act only reminded them of the pact, and the secret they held from the rest of their people.

  “Nine months to the day after Adalina was cured,” Lien pointed a shaking finger at Winilind, “you gave birth to Oli. Oh, what a birth it was! We should have known. We did know! We always knew there was something wrong with him!”

  “A cursed child!” someone shouted from the crowd, and other voices joined in. The Sullin began to heckle and goad as well, while Feren and the Levonin looked on impassively. “A curse raised amongst us, leading us astray at every turn!”

  “No!” Adalina shouted, “he wasn’t a curse!” Tears ran from her eyes and Luthold made to cross the space between them, but Erlends stood in his way. His man Marlo followed close behind.

  “A cursed child,” repeated the Sullin chief, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger in Luthold’s direction. “Who went missing with your son,” he pointed at Heridan, whose hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. Then he turned slowly as he spoke, holding his arms out wide as though embracing all the clansfolk present.

  “Perhaps the gods did not speak to all the Hallin. Perhaps they spoke only to one man, the man who read their meaning in the stones. Will you all abandon your homeland for his guilt? Cast these two out instead! And then, let us help you. Of all the forest clans, we are the fighters. We know war and strategy. We need time to prepare, to learn our enemies’ tricks and make them our own. Let us negotiate in your name, unified, and force them to a settlement that gives us safety.”

  “Don’t listen to this!” Luthold shouted, aware of the desperation in his voice. “You’ve seen the fires! Do you think it will be so easy to stay, that in five years time you’ll still be calling yourselves Seveners? They have already spoken to the Republicans!” He pointed at Erlends. “They are in an alliance with them! For all we know they have already renounced the gods!”

  “More lies from a proven liar!” shouted Erlends.

  “You don’t speak for us anymore, Luthold!” Thilo yelled.

  “Then who does?” Luthold called back, “You?! Or have you already decided this Sullin will control our fate?”

  “Marlo, deal with this fool! He’s not fit to speak at this assembly,” Erlends commanded.

  Luthold looked for Marlo where he had been a moment before and saw the space beside Erlends empty. He heard the beginnings of Feren’s protest that Erlends could not usurp the proceedings, before the world around him went dark.

  Winilind watched her husband’s plans unravelling, first with sorrow and relief, and then with growing alarm. Even before the argument, the Sullin began to disperse among the crowd, conspicuously armed as they always were. Luthold had not seen them position themselves for combat as he confronted Erlends, perhaps not imagining that blood would be spilled in assembly or that so many Hallin would stand and watch dumbly. When Marlo moved around and struck him from behind, he fell with a thud that was followed by silence. The Sullin had outwitted them all.

  Her daughter broke the silence, screaming a repeat of Luthold’s accusations, but no other Hallin joined her. Has our confession doomed him? She had been swept into it when Luthold began it, but now she recalled Marlo bumping into Ada from behind on the journey south. That snake was eavesdropping on us.

  Otmer moved to Adalina's side and tried to muffle her voice, while with his other hand he pulled Pasha close beside him.

  "Quiet, girl," he hissed. "Don't draw their attention to you!"

  Adalina turned and hissed: "Have we already yielded?"

  Winilind looked past Otmer into the centre of the clearing. That is the reason. There, at Erlends’ side, stood Heridan. She felt as though her heart had fallen through the ground. Thilo and Lien walked out to join them. Who else would betray their clan? Who else already had? Most of the Hallin adults stood with their children huddled close. The bulk of muscle that was Otmer looked neutered with Pasha pulled tight beside him. She could not see Beresa. Was she somewhere hidden in the crowd, ready to pounce? Or was she hiding in fear? Who else but her could oppose Heridan? She looked for Elder Mildred and could not locate her, but saw Feren consulting with two of his kin, both of whom began to scale one of the seven trees. The Sullin had positioned themselves around the village, too, and gathered groups of Levonin children around them. Do they mean to make hostages of our children to force our obedience? Winilind shuddered with hatred, but the fear of what they might do to Adalina stilled her voice.

  “The way forward is clear,” called Erlends, “and we make it easy for you by ending the discussion. We will represent the clans to Dombarrow. Be sure you support us, for your own sake and the sake of your children’s future.” At that, Erlends scanned the crowd, catching each person’s eyes who held a young one close. His gaze lingered a little longer on Ada, and Winilind tightened her grip. He addressed her daughter directly:

  "I am sorry you have to see this, girl. But your father has betrayed us all, and your people need to know the fate of any who intend to defy us. Marlo!"

  Marlo drew his sword and stood over her husband, helpless on ground before him.

  "Nooo!" Winilind cried out, staggering forwards as fast as her injuries would allow her. "Someone stop him!"

  Adalina called out: "Heridan! Stand by your kin! Stand by your gods!"

  The great warrior blinked and looked back at her daughter and his face creased in agony.

  "Do it now, Marlo!" Erlends commanded.