Heart of the Tanglewood - Chapter Three

[ninedaysaqueen]

Title: Heart of the Tanglewood

Author: ninedaysaqueen


Betas: openedlocket & earthstarmoon – Always a pleasure.

Rating: PG/K+

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.

Summary: Forests are full of danger and deep at its roots, the Tanglewood hides many secrets. What happens to young boys who never learn to stay out of the woods?

Enjoy!





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"What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well..."

- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

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Heart of the Tanglewood
Chapter Three



Crunch. Crunch.

Protested the leaves Eugenides stepped on as he plodded through a deer trail and deep into the Tanglewood. Their progress through the forest had been slow, mostly due to Sophos's fascination with every bit of flora and fauna the two boys happened to pass by.

He was worse than the magus.

Eugenides glanced over his shoulder, considering the precocious boy's behavior. He suspected Sophos must be from a more temperate climate if he examined cold weather plants such as white birch and swamp milkweed as if they were the legendary shiftless trees of Bangloo.

If nothing else, Sophos was supplying Eugenides with more and more clues as to the magus's land of origin, and perhaps an explanation as to why a scholar accomplished enough to reach the honorary title of the magi, would take up residence in a tiny mountain ham.

“We almost there?” Sophos asked from a few paces behind him.

“Give it a few more minutes,” he replied curtly. “Though...” Eugenides drew the word out on his tongue. “We could have been there awhile ago if someone wasn't constantly getting distracted.”

Sophos blushed, his pale skin betraying his embarrassment. Eugenides wondered if his head kept an extra supply of blood near his face just for blushing.

The older boy vaulted over a downed tree with ease, then turned without thinking to offer Sophos a hand over the obstacle. Sighing inwardly, Eugenides realized he was beginning to get attached. His cousins would simply love this.

“Just past this ridge, and we'll be at the pond,” Eugenides said, letting go of Sophos's hand. He stopped when he noticed no one was following him.

Turning, Eugenides stopped to gaze questioningly at his companion.

“Umm... Gen?” Sophos's voice was tentative.

“Yes? What's wrong?” Eugenides asked impatiently.

“Do you...” Sophos spoke lightly, voice void of accusation. “Do you want me to leave?”

Eugenides sighed and pulled at the hair of his crown. He knew his behavior hadn't been the most welcoming, but he'd thought they'd been getting along better as of today.

“Sophos, look-” he began, but to his surprise he was interrupted.

“I heard you last night. What you were saying to the magus.”

Eugenides stared.

“And if you want me to leave or just let you be, I'd understand. I can take care of myself, and either way...” Sophos trailed off. “I'm used to being on my own.”

Now, he was simply trying to make Eugenides feel bad.

So, so, so, maybe there was more to Sophos than met the eye when one picked him up on the wayside of a strange road in a strange, new land; since he was currently trying to appeal to Eugenides more sympathetic side. A side he tried so desperately to hide.

On the spot, Eugenides walked closer and took a deep breath.

“If I'd wanted you to leave, I would have said so yesterday.” Eugenides stuffed his hands inside his pockets. “I'm not one to curtail my opinion,” he shrugged. “You might have noticed?”

Sophos smiled.

“It's just most of my cousins...” he let that phrase hang. “Aren't the most friendly people in the world. “

“Is that why you don't like sword practice?” Sophos inquired. Definitely smarter than he'd given him credit for.

Nodding, Eugenides spoke tersely, “That and I think it's a colossal...” He spread his arms wide, staggering backwards as he pronounced each word carefully, “Waste. Of. Time.”

Eugenides turned and began to walk again.

Sophos followed. “You're the first I've heard to say that. My father seems to think it's the most important thing in the world.”

Eugenides chuckled. “Yours and mine both. We should start a brotherhood of disappointing sons.”

They both laughed and continued to walk in companionable silence, until Sophos, once again, stopped abruptly.

“Gen?” he sounded wary.

“Hmm, what's it now?”

Sophos extended his arm, pointing just past the small ridge, frozen in place. “Whose house is that?”

“House?” Eugenides asked, incredulous, prepared to dismiss Sophos as delusional. No one lived in the Tanglewood. Well... except for her.

He glanced in the direction where Sophos was pointing, seeing only a grass covered hill and a small mossy knoll.

At first.

Eugenides never would've noticed it. Tucked in the corner of the ridge, where it met the ground in an arch, was a tiny cottage. The wooden boards so greened with moss and the decay of the damp forest that is was camouflaged by its natural surroundings and the low light. The pine needles absorbing the sun's rays as effectively as they cradled the snow in winter.

It was a long moment before Eugenides remembered to breath. “How did you see that?” He turned to gawk at Sophos, who stood frozen beside him.

“Those large leaves near the chimney...” Sophos gestured to the vine covered stack of leaning brick, which was further hidden be large, fanning leaves. “They're not native to this area. I was just wondering who would go to the trouble to plant them when I noticed the shape of the house.”

Family gods bless these scholars and their silly plants, Eugenides laughed inwardly.

“Gen...” Sophos started, gazing solemnly at his friend. “That's not... Those stories you told me last night...” He left the words unsaid.

“I'm not sure,” Eugenides answered. “But I think it might be.” He turned to meet Sophos's eyes. “Last time we were here... when I was with the magus,” he clarified. “I met her.”

Sophos raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Who is she then?”

“I don't know...” he said with a shake of his head. “There's just something....” He looked away.

“Something what?”

“Ever seen the sand dunes of the Great Northern Lakes?” It was the best analogy he could think of.

“The ones carved by the lake winds?”

“Exactly. Just think of how smooth, beautiful and perfect the sand dunes are then remember the sheer violence, force, and power of the winds that carved their shape.” He took a deep breath. “Then you've got a pretty clear image of what I mean.”

Sophos shivered. “Should we?” he gestured behind them. Should we run is what he meant.

Eugenides answered, sounding braver than he felt, “No, I want to see... if this is where she lives.” Nodding with an odd sense of determination that seemed to come from a yearning Eugenides himself did not understand, he told Sophos, “You can wait here if you like.”

“No, I'm going with you.”


-X-X-X-


Above was the best approach.

The trees grew close to the cottage walls, cradling the structure like a sleeping child. Eugenides knew he could easily hop to the roof from the branches and scamper down the vines that grew the length of the chimney. That only left him with one problem.

“You're not leaving me here,” hissed Sophos, from where he hid in the bushes beside Eugenides. “What if she's a mercenary's wife from the deserts? She could eat you alive!”

“Shhh,” Eugenides hissed. “Her skin's too pale to be from the desert tribes and anyway, what gave you such a strange idea? I'd bet you a fiver that she's not even a real witch.”

“Then why is everyone so afraid of her?” Sophos asked

Eugenides stared blankly. He didn't have an answer to that.

“Just wait here, and... and...” He searched his brain for a useful job, so he wouldn't leave Sophos feeling like a useless onlooking waiting in the bushes. “Make some sort of noise if you see her, but don't get any closer than this.”

Relaxing now that he had a plan, Eugenides grinned and lightly punched the younger boy on the shoulder. “She might just get you with her single-shot pistol.”

“I thought you said she wasn't a mercenary's wife!” Sophos hissed irritably, as Eugenides began to shimmy up a tree.


-X-X-X-


Pine trees had a bad habit of growing too close together and getting their branches tangled and bent in the weight of their neighbor's. Thus, it was a simple task to cross from one branch to the other, but it also meant Eugenides was forced to rely heavily on his agility as to not get twisted in any thin tendrils that could throw him dangerously off balance.

Eugenides tiptoed precariously across a thick branch then hopped between the sturdiest looking limbs he could find, careful to keep his weight moving. Even a thick branch could bend and break under him, leaving his legs broken and twisted at the bottom of the forest floor.

Approaching the roof with few problems, Eugenides gently lowered himself to his knees on the moss covered roof tiles. Dropping to his stomach, he rolled to the far side and very, very quietly climbed down the chimney.

Untangling his feet from the vines, Eugenides found himself in a tiny garden hidden between the house and the ridge. Pleased, he brushed his hands on the front of his tunic and stooped to a crouch by the side of the house.

If he could just get close to a window-

“Might I ask a question of one so old?”

Eugenides froze.

Her voice was soft yet seemed to roll off her tongue like flames rolled from the village braziers. Eugenides shut his eyes as tightly as he could, hoping she was merely speaking to the air and hadn't noticed him sneaking up to her house like a common thief.

She continued to recite.

“What is life but a memory?

An image in the dark?

A past long forgotten?

A word uncarved in bark?”

Her tone was cool and smooth, flowing like honey and thick syrup sure to swallow and trap any creature caught in her stare. Merely a few feet away and walking gracefully across her garden, she approached him like a snake, slithering up to examine her prey.

Why didn't anyone one ever talk him out of these horrible ideas of his?

She spoke again.

“Oh? said the owl.

Upon it's thorny branch.

Who are you to ask of life?

You who've made your bed?”

She trailed off as she came to stand in front of him, one eyebrow raised.

She wore red this time; hair pulled back into a curly wave behind her neck. She stared at him expectantly, as if prompting Eugenides to make the first move.

Terrified yet thrilled by her presence; no words came to his mouth. He felt as frozen as an ice tree, as pinned as the butterflies in the science room, as stuck as a sheep in a chasm.

He had only one move.

“I see how you sit there.

Upon your thorny branch.

Lording wisdom you will not give.

To those you point out lack.”

Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, and she seemed to examine him more closely. Not as prey this time, but as an object of interest.

A friendlier light dawned in her eyes, and she smiled. Her teeth reminded him of a wolf. “Impressive. Not many people know of The Wise Owl. Especially not goat-foots.” She waved a hand at him as if brushing dust from a table.

Goat-foot?

Eugenides scrambled to his feet.

“Goat-foots can read just as well as any lowlander, I'll have you know.” He was indignant. He was scared out of his mind, but even so, he never forgot to be indignant.

“Ah...” She was amused. “But clearly not so skilled when it comes to understanding these words.”

She stepped closer and leaned forward to stare, unblinking, into his eyes. “I thought I told you to stay away from me, little boy. Witches are very, very dangerous people.”

“You're not a witch,” Eugenides said confidently, resisting the urge to take a step back. “You're just a lowland lady hiding in a forest. Who are you to tell me what to do, and where not to go?”

The muscles in her jaw clenched. Now, he was in trouble.

He could practically taste the many insults and harsh judgements perched on her tongue, but when she opened her mouth, none of them came. Taking a step back, she ground her teeth and sighed.

It wasn't a sigh of exasperation or of frustration. He heard those all the time from his father, his uncles, his aunts, and even from Helen on occasion. This sigh came from somewhere much deeper in her soul. A place so deep, Eugenides didn't even have a name for it.

“Go home,” she spoke abruptly, turning away from him. “You've found my house and snuck into my garden. Now collect your trophy for your little child's game and never return.”

Trophy?

“Excuse me?” Eugenides followed, waving his arms angrily. “You think I risked impalement, broken limbs, and death just because of some 'dare and fetch game'? How stupid do you think I am?”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her dress's hem snagged gently on a tomato vine. She raised a single eyebrow.

He prayed to the clan gods that she wouldn't try to answer that.

“Just... just wait and let me explain,” he entreated. To his surprise, she turned to faced him, albeit crossing her arms and elegantly tapping her foot in the soil.

“I... I just wanted... truly wanted... to see if this was where you lived, because... because...” He'd caught her interest. He could see it in her eyes. Now, if only he could get the speech he planned past his thick tongue.

“When we met in the woods the other day, I wanted to tell you something. Just one simple thing I thought you should hear from someone who has lived just across from the Tanglewood his entire life.”

Her gaze was the softest he'd ever seen, and for a moment he pictured her as a child. Hair braided by her mother, fingernail beds clean of garden dirt, eyes wide and innocent not hard and cruel.

“I just wanted to say that- that...” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I'm not scared of you.”

Silence.

The softness in her face evaporated, and a steel light returned to her eyes. She spoke unkindly, “A little boy not afraid of witches?” She stepped closer, smiling at him balefully. “Not afraid of a haunted forest? Not afraid of the deep, dark secrets his father will never, never tell him? Not even afraid of the blood soaked soil he grows his food in?”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but his feet would not move and his jaw would not open to respond to her bitter words. He stared, wide eyed as she leaned forward, inches from his face.

She was as terrible as she was beautiful.

“Not afraid of anything, it seems.” She took his chin in her palm and smiled almost gently. “Well let me tell you something, young one. There may be little you fear in this world, but if there's one thing, just one thing you should most certainly be afraid of...” Letting go of his chin, she lightly stroked his cheek. “It would be me.”

She released him, and he titled backwards, reeling for his balance.

From the porch steps she said, “Go back to your friend, go home, and do not, and I repeat this, do not ever feel sorry for me again.”

The door slammed shut, and Eugenides ran from her garden, back into the safety of the pines.