The Bone Mask Trilogy: (An Epic Fantasy Boxed Set), page 52
“Thank you, Oyn-Dir.” Sofia replied in Braonn.
“Is your warrior able to follow us?”
Notch answered. “My Braonn is adequate only, My Lord.”
“Then I will address most of our comments here in Anaskari, though I will, after our conversation has come to an end, speak to my people in our tongue, of course.”
“Thank you,” he said, though his expression remained wary.
The Oyn-Dir turned back to Sofia. “Let me begin by apologising for circumstances surrounding our introduction. We were not sure you would speak with us.”
“Our rescue was certainly appreciated,” she said. Diplomacy first. It was not yet the time to mention their own pressing task, if at all.
“It was beyond fortunate. In truth, without your masks we would never have found you.”
“You tracked us by them?”
“We did. For those attuned to the mysteries of the earth, objects of power have their own deep songs.”
“But why were you searching for us?”
“Tira and Areth have provided an opportunity amidst this time of chaos. It is only my regret that we could not intercept you prior to Efran’s strike.”
“Then you only desire to speak with us?”
“I would not have you leave before that at the very least, yes.”
Maybe prisoners yet. “We have our own task. It is of some urgency.”
“Of course. But if you would indulge us first?” He motioned to one of his white-clad protectors, who clapped his hands. Food appeared from the trees, carried on smooth wooden platters. “Let us eat while we talk.”
Dishes of berries and plates surrounded steaming hunks of meat – venison mostly, but rabbit too. Some manner of sweet sauce was ladled across the meat. Sofia’s mouth watered. “It smells wonderful. I will have to remove my mask.”
“Of course.”
She did so, the air cool on her face. Notch had already taken a mouthful of the deer. Sofia took her own first bite. Delicious.
The Oyn-Dir continued as she ate, speaking around servants who brought cold water and sweet wines. “We are in need of a new peace. The old one was imbalanced at best.”
“I didn’t know there was war,” Notch said.
He nodded. “Truly spoken, Warrior. However, there will be.”
“Between who?” Sofia said.
“Braonn and Anaskari. Even now, there are preparations for assassination.”
Sofia half-rose. “What?”
“Efran and the Sap-Born. He has taken control of the First Tree, our seat of governance, driven us, his own people, from its shade and now he sows for dark fruit from violence and hatred. Surely you have noticed a slow in trade, a trickle only of indentured servants?”
“We had discussed it of late.”
“It is a precursor. Doubtless if your Kingdom was not beset with so many troubles, you might have noticed it much earlier. But that is to Efran’s credit. He knows when to strike.”
“Not his credit, Father,” Nia said. “His detriment. He is a dangerous fool, seeking to bring such attention on our forest.”
“But why now?” Notch said. “What’s changed here?”
The Oyn-Dir answered. “Old debts that ought to have been paid by now evoke, for Efran, a chance for both vengeance and freedom from Anaskari ties. He has recently grown in power, both political and personal.”
Sofia glanced at the audience. Soft conversation had already resumed. “And you wish for me to help you stop him?”
“Of course,” the older man said. “War serves no-one. We have never wanted it.”
Nia raised an eyebrow. “Never?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps in my youth, but that brings life to no-one. Tira and Areth would tell me what, daughter?”
“Life is green.”
“Exactly. And so we must turn to the Anaskari themselves. We are not strong enough, alone.”
“You have to play a dangerous game, don’t you?” Notch asked.
“Yes. Already Efran is not satisfied with exile for us, with driving us from the First Tree. All he would need is exactly this sort of ‘infraction’ we commit now to feel justified in putting us to death.” He leant forward. “And so we ask, in part, that you convince your King and the other owners of such Greatmasks to help us put a stop to Efran.”
Notch shook his head. “Forgive me, Oyn-Dir, but that would be near impossible. You’re talking about Anaskar mounting an invasion. Sofia could not convince King Oseto to do so now, not with the Renovar attack poised. Perhaps not even if there were no invasion from across the sea.”
Sofia nodded her agreement.
“It is a risk, we understand. The alternative is the death of your King. If that were to happen, there would be war anyway.”
“Violence to prevent violence,” Nia said. “It’s a poor choice, but the only one left. Efran’s people are hunting us, despite our efforts to hide the Autumn Grove. If you don’t help us, we will be driven from our home or killed. Efran will not tolerate such opposition as we represent.”
Sofia raised a hand to stall Notch, and in part to bury the question of how someone hid an entire grove. “We would not wish to see that. But how does Efran believe he can achieve this?”
“He and his lackeys have been...changed by something I had never thought to see. A violation of the old ways. Somehow they have taken the sap of the Amber Trees from the Summer Grove into their veins. Warriors are now ‘born’ of the trees, changed irrevocably.”
Nia shook her head. “It’s a perversion.”
“And now they claim to have a secret that will render the Greatmasks obsolete. They will send their assassins and then use the secret as blackmail, to force the Anaskari out of the forests. They will cancel all debt, free those in servitude.”
“Can he truly do as he claims?”
“I do not know. He operates as if it is true, and his preparations are coming to a close. He has been readying a force of some size.”
Notch put his cup down. “How many men? And how long has Efran known this secret?”
“Not long enough to act yet, though I suspect he has sent an assassin in the past. Doubtless more than one. They were assumed failures. Efran hinted as much during his speeches before the First Tree. His men number in the hundreds only, but that alone is a significant threat. The Sap-Born are not like other men.”
“How so?”
“Their touch is death. I know not how, I know only what I have seen.”
The table fell quiet. Nia had crossed her arms, but her eyes were far away.
Sofia broke the hush. “And the other part of your request?”
“That once Efran is dealt with, you agree to a longer view for peace. A sharing of children. We will educate our young in each other’s homes.”
“It sounds difficult.” Sofia controlled a frown. And something that had been attempted unsuccessfully in the past. But what a stupid thing to say. It was a noble idea, and yet how could she possibly achieve any of it? “And I would love to be part of such a peace, but I do not have that power. Even if I did, I am on a grave mission of my own.”
Father and daughter exchanged a glance, but neither spoke a moment. Notch shifted in his seat and Sofia opened her mouth but the Oyn-Dir spoke first. “Sofia –”
Nia leant forward. “No, Father. They will abandon us.”
“Nia, that is not true.”
“Of course it is, once they know – what reason would they have to help us?”
He slapped the tabletop, rattling cups. “Enough.” Conversation ceased and those gathered had turned to stare up at the dais. Again, he raised his hands and the murmur resumed. To Sofia, he said, “Of your task we know, Sofia.”
Whatever had passed between them didn’t seem resolved, but Nia was not speaking. Sofia paused. “Then you’ve seen the rogue we seek?”
He smiled. “Rogue? No, Successor, your secret is safe here. I have met your father, long ago. I had even sent messengers to him about our current predicament, but there was no response. For a long time I did not understand why. I thought perhaps the Sap-Born had stopped them. Good men and women, each. But I recently learnt why else that might be.”
“You know where my father is?”
His expression grew sombre. “Efran has him.”
Chapter 23
Sofia shot to her feet. “Then he’s alive?”
Voices hushed in the audience once more, and some of the hunters rose. The Oyn-Dir stood and lifted his voice. “Be calm, friends.” He continued to explain that all was well and the feasters returned to their meals, casting glances up at the dais. The Oyn-Dir’s face softened. “I would not wish to promise such a thing, Sofia, and offer false hope. Our scouts saw his capture and I suspect he lives, but only as Efran’s prisoner.”
“Where?”
“In the deepest of the forest, beyond the First Tree no doubt, but we do not know. I can only surmise that Efran keeps your father alive to learn whatever secrets he needs to support his claim of being able to circumvent the Greatmasks.”
“Help me rescue my father and I will do anything you ask, anything in my power,” Sofia said.
“Sofia, no,” Notch said. “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”
“I’m not sparing anything, Notch.”
The Oyn-Dir smiled, gentle still. “We will accept your words for their intent. If you cannot make them come true, no-one at this table will hold you accountable.”
She slumped in her seat. Finally, word that Father lived. The knot of stone in her stomach loosened – not completely, but enough. One step closer. Their journey had not been in vain. “Thank you, Oyn-Dir. We have searched long for traces of him.”
Tears glistened in Nia’s eyes but her face was set. “And so now you will continue to search for him, and leave us to our fate?”
“No.” Sofia looked from face to face, including the white clad protectors who stood behind the Oyn-Dir. “Notch and I will stop Efran when we rescue my father.”
Nia’s bearing eased. Her father made a sound of doubt. “That would not be an easy task.”
“I believe nothing is easy, but I haven’t stopped trying.”
The Oyn-Dir sighed. “Of course, if you attempt this, there will be no-one to vouch for us with your King should it come to war. Perhaps your Warrior –”
Sofia shook her head, even as Notch bristled. “Notch stays with me. When we deal with Efran, war will be averted.”
“Only if you succeed.”
“We won’t fail. I am Casa Falco, I am Successor, I carry two Greatmasks, I am a match for these Sap-Born.”
“Confidence is not enough,” Nia said.
“It won’t have to be,” Notch growled.
Her eyes flashed. “No-one speaks to the daughter of the Oyn-Dir that way, Warrior.”
“And no-one tells me where I can and cannot go.”
“Think you’re a match for everyone here?”
“Give me a sword and let’s see.”
The white-clad guards stood. Sofia snatched up Argeon and put the mask on. “Stop.” Her voice stunned the crowd. Nia and Notch fell back; the Oyn-Dir’s eyebrows were raised. His guards froze. “This is not the way,” she said into the heavy silence. “We are to be allies. Let’s not ruin that before we start. There are other paths.”
Notch exhaled and raised his hands. “I apologise to you both. I was being rash.”
Nia’s lips were pressed together, but she eventually gave a short nod.
Sofia kept the mask on. “I believe I can contact the King without leaving the Autumn Grove, using Argeon. If that fails I could try to teach one of you to use Osani perhaps. It would be very difficult. But I meant what I said earlier. I will do what it takes to find my father,” she said. “In the meantime, surely you can call people to your side? From other villages. I even saw Shields in Demarc. I could order them here. If you had some wax and paper maybe?”
The Oyn-Dir thanked her. “We have indeed called many to defend us, though those on the Fringes are not as...eager to help.”
Nia snorted. “They are barely Braonn, Father.”
He waved the matter aside. “In any event, Lady Sofia, we can offer our own help in your task. We Oynbae have our skills. Alone they are not a match for the entire Sap-Born force but with a Greatmask at her side, my daughter might transform you both into an invincible force that will bring even Efran and his ilk down.”
“Father,” Nia gasped.
“Is this not what you wanted? The chance for justice, which you have begged me for so often?”
She bowed her head. “Revenge is unclean. My needs should not come before the Oynbae. It is a selfish wish.”
“Even so, I believe Sofia and Notch need your help. I do not doubt their courage or the power of the Masks, but you are the most skilled. You know the forest, you know its depths where they do not.”
She lifted her chin. “I will help them.”
“Good. An agreement has been reached.” He stood, shouting to the crowd. “The Oynbae are saved.”
A cheer washed over the dais. Sofia accepted the Oyn-Dir’s hand, letting him present her to the crowd. Notch’s face was uncertain, and beneath Argeon, her own was a mirror.
***
Two days had passed and still she could not locate anyone with Argeon. Sofia leant against a tree, high on a platform used by lookouts. The path south of the clearing was empty, her view only partially obscured by a riot of yellow leaves in the afternoon sun. Each day she’d climbed the tree to attempt her sending. And while the solitude was welcome, they were all wasted moments.
She toyed with the tiny carven oar Mother had given her.
It brought a measure of peace; an echo of Mother’s calming voice, as if from above her, when she was being tucked into bed. A warm memory, but no answers.
Father was alive. He was waiting. Who knew what Efran had done to him in order to steal her order’s secrets? But whatever Efran learnt, whatever secret could supposedly combat the Greatmasks, would die with him.
She thumped the wooden platform.
Was there even a need to seek a position of elevation? There were so many reasons the sending might fail; people probably needed masks to receive her voice, Argeon wasn’t cooperating, the Grove itself blocked her somehow – the possibilities were as abundant as her ignorance when it came to using a Greatmask.
And yet, above all was the strange voice, the man who answered her when she’d searched for Father.
The man who mentioned a Novatura and wanted to send someone to her.
Was he listening?
So far, he’d not heard any of her attempts. But still, how hard was she trying? Father needed her. And while the man who’d intercepted her call had not struck her as malevolent in any way, who knew what he was? If there was a chance he’d be able to help find Father, why not? The voice seemed knowledgeable at least.
She had to keep trying, regardless.
New images.
Seto’s sunken eyes as he held court in the Harper. His silvery hair. The way he spoke with his hands, the long fingers.
Argeon help.
“Seto?” She waited, holding his image. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Did Argeon even know what she wanted? Was the last time a fluke?
Seto holding a fork, gesturing with a cup.
“Seto,” she shouted.
Only her voice echoed among the trees. She climbed down, nodding to her ‘escort.’ The Braonn warrior followed her to a small clearing where Notch sat watching the Oynbae practicing their strange art.
To one side a group of younger men and women practised with slings, hurling hard yellow pods at leaf-filled targets hanging between trees, while closer, three women dressed in brown and orange stood in a triangle. All wore gloves and all had incredibly smooth skin, something Sofia was slowly becoming used to. It was almost like watching a living mask. The smoothness came from some kind of powder but she couldn’t be sure if they applied it or if it was part of their skin. Nia was the same, though the Oyn-Dir was not. Whatever its purpose, she had not seen displays of their power beyond sparring.
She sat beside Notch on a stump. A large tree, it looked to lie exactly where it had fallen. Rather than create benches from it, the Oynbae simply carved seats – grooves really – in the trunk.
Notch raised an eyebrow. “No luck?”
“None,” she said. “Father can’t afford this.”
“At least we know he’s alive.”
“Do we?”
“He’s valuable to Efran.”
Sofia made a sound of agreement. True enough, but it wasn’t proof. And Efran could be doing anything to him. She lowered her voice. “We should sneak away.”
In the clearing, one of the women dived forward. The other two sprang away, then skipped into another stance. The woman who’d rolled came to her knee with both palms poised beneath her face, but, seeing no-one before her, moved seamlessly into another movement. Again, the other two leapt in different directions.
As they sparred, or chased one another, the warrior tasked with chasing the other two changed. Sofia lost track of any pattern in the role shifting and their ceaseless movement continued with barely any pause.
How long had she been watching them?
“Notch, you didn’t answer me,” she said after a time.
“I know.” He pointed. “Look how they’re always moving, always aware of where the opponent is.” He was sitting straighter, eyes tracing every movement.
“Yes, it’s wonderful. Notch, I believe the Oyn-Dir but I can’t wait any longer. Efran could be torturing Father right now for all I know, and I can’t go to him. We’re prisoners in all but name. You know it, Notch. You have a minder too.” She looked to a second warrior, who sat some distance from Notch.
“His name’s Ren.” Notch shook his head. “And you’re right.”
“Well?”
“How far do you think we’d get, Sofia? We don’t know where to find him and they’d catch us, they know their forest. They’d probably send Gelehn after us again.”
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