The Tree of Black and White (The Shadowdancer Chronicles, Book Two)

Chapter One

Pretending that everything was okay was easier than it should have been. Many in the realm would frown at time spent with a group of outlaws, but Selene knew better, for there was nowhere in the world she would have rather been; that was something she knew for certain. Jon, Red, and Kareth, her father, made more than interesting companions. Their constant banter, both unyielding and mirthful, succeeded in quelling all fears she had of the Vorai and any resurgence of evil. Selene could honestly say that without the three of them her world would have shattered long ago. The last fortnight of travel would have been unbearably terrifying. The sun seemed to rise and fall at their beck and call. In all of her years, in every waking breath, Selene had never felt so safe. They went south after Dunmont. At first they had moved as if Alador himself where only steps behind, but the intensity of their movement faded with time. Before she knew it their pace had transformed into a ponderous endeavor, as if they were no longer the most wanted individuals in the empire. Days were warmer the farther south they went, but they were nearing the wall, and, though they meant to hide their apprehensions from her, Selene knew that the group was on edge.

            The Blood Forest was indeed more than a clever nickname. Enormous Redwoods grew throughout the vast woodland, but as they moved farther south, approaching the northern slopes of the Salt Mountains, the monstrous trees seemed to dwarf the rest of the saplings. Selene was not quite sure why were called Redwoods until she noticed the bloodlike sap dripping from beneath their gray-tinged bark. She touched it. The odd substance stuck to her fingers.

            “Now you know why the ants stay off the trees,” Jon stated with a chuckle.

            Selene frowned, the red sap refusing to leave her fingertips. “It’s…sticky.”

            “It’s treeblood, dear.” Kareth dropped a stack of wood he had gathered for the night’s fire. “Everything bleeds.”

            She was not sure if the rest of them had noticed, but her father had taken on a somber mood since their escape from Dunmont. There had been little time to hear her father’s story since their movement began, but she knew the story would continue. Jon and her father took turns scouting the large forest while Red prayed for forgiveness, which left them both taxed and exhausted. He was not the same Red her father had told her about in his stories, that was for certain.

            With a sigh, Selene sat down and grabbed a strip of dried cedar bark from her pouch. It did not take long for her to work the bark into tender and even less to kindle a spark. She rubbed her shoulder after the effort, cringing at the pain that was still present from the arrow that she had taken for Bryce. In one of her blackened stupors, Lord Idris, or rather, the Vorai, had sent an odd healer to her that had sealed the wound, almost as if it had never happened—except for the pain, of course, that she was sure would never leave her. It was the price of using magik to heal, or so Red told her.

The warmth of the fire was comforting, but she knew that the true purpose of the fire was to dry their sodden clothes, lest they take on a cough due to the chill the night would surely bring. Kareth had advised against starting any fires, but Red said they would not last through the night without a flame to dry them. It was to only happen once, but the rain had seemed relentless in its pursuit of them. They had built a fire the last four nights. Selene had noticed Red’s eyes as he spoke to Kareth; he was concerned about her, not the rest of the group, as if she were but a child not used to spending the night outside of a warm, dry bed. She was angry with him at first, though the fire seemed to leach away her disquiet along with the chill in her bones.

            Jon grounded his gear and strung his bow. His quiver was made of lambskin, and he fletched his own arrows with goose feathers. Selene’s bow burned along with the rest of the compound back in Garr, and, thus far, they had not been able to find a suitable wood to construct a new one. When it came to making bows Jon was very particular. Yew or Osage were the only two types of wood acceptable. To even think of fashioning a bow out of a lesser wood was heresy, at least in Jon’s eyes. He stood, his bow strung and a quiver full of arrows strapped across his back, and left their makeshift camp without a word. Though Kareth was as successful a hunter as Selene had ever known, Jon brought a sense of ease to the day’s meals that would have cost Kareth, and the group, precious time and energy.