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FREE: Child of the Pact
by C.L. Holland
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The dream hounded me from sleep; the same one as always. It took a moment to realize that the vines tangled in my limbs were my own blankets, and that I was in bed rather than trapped beneath layers of smothering earth. I pushed the covers from my face and sat up. Across the room I could hear Erren's soft breathing as he slept undisturbed. It made me wonder how, on this of all nights, my twin could be so calm. I lit the lamp to banish the last of the nightmare. Erren stirred and muttered something. He rubbed his eyes and gave me a sleepy smile. "You're awake early." "Bad dreams." "I thought I was supposed to have those." He sat up and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders. "You weren't though. You were sleeping like a baby." I heard a note of accusation enter my voice. "Don't you care?" My brother's eyes glittered in the lamplight. "Of course I care." His voice was soft. "But I don't fear it as much as you fear for me. We've always known that this would happen." "I know," I sighed. "That doesn't make it easier." "I suppose it's different for you," he allowed. "For me, it's an adventure, a whole new life. For you it's—" "Like you died." "Stannis!" "Well it is. You'll go from our lives and never come back." "But I won't be dead, just different." Erren moved to sit beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. "When you look outside," he nodded towards the forest that lay beyond the shuttered window, "you'll see me. What I'll be a part of." I turned my face away, not wanting to imagine him out there alone. "It won't be the same." His hand tightened for a moment. "Let's raid the kitchen." I had to laugh. "Is that all you can think of?" "I'm hungry." Erren answered my smile with one of his own. "I think mother will forgive us this once. Come on." Mother was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table that dominated the center of the room. She clasped a cup in her hands; she stared into it as if the contents could reveal the future. She looked up as we entered and gave us a weak smile. "I know why you're here. I can't say I blame you. Sit, I'll get you something." Erren frowned, but he sat and so did I. Mother moved around the kitchen, fetching plates and a platter of leftovers. Once she was done she headed for the door. "You don't have to go," Erren protested. "I know," she replied, coming back to kiss each of us on the top of the head. "But you need the time together. I'll see you later. Before . . . " Her voice cracked. "Before we leave." She left then. Erren's expression was unreadable as he reached for bread and cold meat. I found myself glancing across at him and the space at the table that would be empty after today. We ate in silence until the rest of the family woke. Father was first, followed by Terr and Peneli, our younger brother and sister. Mother was last, her eyes red-rimmed. They joined us for breakfast, and then, all too soon, it was time to go. We dressed in travelling clothes and sturdy boots. Mother packed food and water. Father opened the outer door to let in the fresh air, and I heard him sigh. There was no sign of it on his face when he turned to us. "Come, then. Let's pay our respects to the spirits of the forest." My steps faltered as I followed Terr and Peneli, who walked hand in hand behind our parents. Erren paused to tug the door closed, then squared his shoulders and fell into step beside me. The rest of the village had come to watch us leave. They stood in silence, the adults with grave expressions and the children wide-eyed. Everyone was glad it had happened, because it was necessary, and that it hadn't happened to them. They watched as we left the boundary of our world and stepped into the trees. We continued without speaking long after we'd left the settlement behind, but it was far from silent. The sounds of the forest were all around us: birds called to one another, creatures rustled in the undergrowth. The air was full of the thick smell of the growing plants, and the leaves that rotted on the forest floor. I hunched my shoulders, imagining the forest spirits were watching us, unseen. The thought of them had always frightened me, even though they fascinated Erren. Peneli's eyes grew wide as she looked around, and one thumb crept up into her mouth. Terr was pretending indifference, but I saw him glance over his shoulder at Erren every third or fourth step. I looked at my twin sidelong and caught him staring around like our sister, although not sucking his thumb. "Papa, I'm tired," Peneli whispered, the words muffled. Father paused just as Erren scooped her up into his arms. The solemn mood was broken as Erren named for Peneli every plant and bird we passed. "That's a Krake," he told her, pointing high into the treetops. Peneli squinted, her brow creasing with the effort. "You can only see them if you look really hard, because their feathers are camouflage." "Can't see it." "Before you were born, I rescued a baby Krake that had fallen from its nest." He glanced at me and I nodded to show I remembered: I wanted to leave it be, to let nature take its course. Erren never could, though. "I drew pictures of it," he continued. "When you get home, Stannis will find my sketchbook for you. Maybe if you're lucky you'll see one to draw too." "Draw," Peneli agreed. My stomach felt heavy: if Erren was giving away his sketchbooks it meant he really wasn't coming back. "Can I have your bed?" Terr spoke up, probably emboldened by the gift to Peneli. "Terr!" Mother gasped. Father turned with his expression as black as storm clouds. Erren gave a faint smile. "If Stannis doesn't mind," he said. "It's his room now." "I don't want to share with Peneli any more," Terr protested. "Terr, be quiet." Father's tone brooked no argument. Terr scowled and I tried not to laugh as Peneli twisted around and stuck her tongue out at him. Terr's outburst ended the conversation. He hunched his shoulders and kicked savagely at the leaf mulch underfoot, flicking it into the air. Peneli dozed in Erren's arms and I took a turn at carrying her. It was something of a comfort, a reminder that I was only losing one sibling. Her mousy hair tickled my nose. After a time we came to something that didn't belong. A twisted metal shape poked from the undergrowth, covered with cracked red and white paint. Half-filled with mud and leaves, it had obviously been there for some time. Brambles had swarmed partway up its sides and the exposed edges of the shape were dark with rust. Terr ventured forward to poke at it. The tip of his finger came away covered with flakes that looked like dried blood. My stomach tightened. Here was the reason my twin had to go away. The forest would consume everything otherwise, just as it had consumed the aircraft. The pact with the forest spirits was all that kept the cities and our small settlements safe. I wondered if anyone had survived the crash. There was no way to tell. "We're nearly there," father said. As a harvester he knew the forest better than anyone. When our settlement needed firewood, he knew where the dead wood lay. When a tree fell, he knew where to find it. Some people said that he was closer to the forest spirits than he should be. They said that he had been one of twins, the one who should had gone to the forest, but that his brother had died at birth, thus he had been spared. Father always dismissed the rumours with a snort. "The forest lets us take what we need, that's all," he would say. "Just like it does any other creature." Just as he said, we came to a natural clearing just a few moments after passing the wreck. Mother took Peneli and sat on a tree stump. My sister barely stirred, and settled onto mother's lap like it was a bed. Then we waited. There was no summoning forest spirits, they came when they wanted. There were tales of them appearing to warn travellers of danger, but more of them ignoring the plight of those who found themselves sick or injured in their domain. Many people had disappeared into the forest never to return, and not just those who went to honour the pact. Erren found a place to sit and drew out a sketchbook and stick of charcoal. He shifted to let me peer over his shoulder and I watched as the woods came alive on paper, captured in shades of grey. I don't know how long it was before I saw a face peering out of the page at me, a suggestion of eyes and mouth in the curl of leaves and branches. When I looked out into the clearing I saw nothing but trees. Erren continued to draw; as if he hadn't noticed the shapes his fingers had created. It was Peneli who saw them first. She raised her head, then gave a squeak and buried her face against mother. Father stood, and I nudged Erren. He blinked like he was coming out of a dream, then stood and passed his picture to Terr. On the other side of the clearing a figure moved, seeming to come together out of vines that flowed towards us. It reminded me of my dream, and I shivered. Father stepped forward to greet it. "Spirit," he said. "I bring you my sons. Twins: one for the world of man and one for the forest, as the pact states." The spirit stopped and turned its gaze on us, standing side-by-side. Its eyes were green. They looked human; although there was nothing human in the way they regarded us. "One for the forest," it said, in a voice of rustling leaves, "and one for men. As the pact states." Erren raised his chin and met its gaze. The spirit moved again, the leaves rolling away to reveal the shape of a man. A man with skin as dark and ridged as bark and a pair of horns that curved back from the top of his head. Other shapes moved around us, faces that stared out of the trees. Some had antlers like a deer, others horns of different shapes and sizes, while a few had no horns at all. Terr drew back to clutch at mother's hand, while Peneli began to cry. I knew how she felt. The spirit inclined his head to father. "Your offering is accepted." The brambles and ivy at the spirit's feet began to move. They snaked towards us, and we took a step apart. For the first time, I saw a hint of fear in Erren’s eyes. The ivy wrapped itself around my ankles. Father went pale. "Stannis?" he gasped, turning to the spirit. "There must be some mistake. We thought . . . " "There is no mistake." The spirit had already started to disappear back into the forest. The vines climbed up my legs. I bent to pull them away but they fixed on my wrist and started to climb my arm. "Help me!" I cried. Erren tried to tear me free but brambles bit into his hands and left bloody smears. Peneli and Terr screamed. Mother clutched them to her as if she feared they'd be taken too. Father lunged toward us and wrapped his arms around Erren to pull him away. "There's nothing you can do." He spoke to my brother, though he was looking at me. "The forest has claimed him." "Let me go!" Erren fought, his eyes full of tears. "It's not supposed to be Stannis! He doesn't belong here." "Father." My voice came out as a whisper. It felt like thorns were anchored in my flesh. The plants held me still and made it hard to breathe. My vision was edged with green. Father met my gaze as Erren sagged against him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. The end of a creeper pushed its way between my teeth. I bit down and my mouth filled with bitter sap. The last thing I saw before leaves flowed up to cover my eyes was Erren sobbing in my father's arms.  It took a moment of laying still in the darkness to remember that, this time, the vines wrapped around me were real. I choked and fought them until the grasping creepers fell away. There was no one in sight: no forest spirits, no men. The trees were so closely packed that I couldn't see the sky. I had no idea where I was and it made me want to howl with frustration. Once the moment had passed, I checked myself. My clothes were torn but my skin was unmarked, and I let out a sob of relief as I dug my fingers into my hair to find no trace of horns or antlers. Perhaps the pact was a sham. Perhaps they'd brought me here to die. If they had, no one would ever know. I took a deep breath that was full of the tang of sap and the cool, clean scent of water. Whatever the forest spirits' plans for me, they were obviously not immediate. There was time, perhaps, to find a way out. I got unsteadily to my feet and reached out for balance. My hand closed on something rough and ridged and I leapt away with a breathless scream. My feet tangled; I fell over backwards. Staring upwards, I realised it was just a tree I'd held and not the spirit I'd imagined. I forced myself to stillness. Panic would solve nothing. There was a stream nearby, its gurgle barely audible. It was as if the trees muffled all noise; birds sang, but they sounded far away. I dragged myself to the water and drank deeply. The stream seemed to chuckle to itself at it flowed, as if at some private joke. The sound was soothing. The forest stretched out around me. I could feel the trees entangled, root and branch. Here and there were exposed places where mankind settled and farmed. Streams trickled and joined, became rivers and joined again. Small creatures nestled in the undergrowth or made their homes in the branches. My breath caught as I realised I could feel it all. Damp soil pressed against my fingers and I noticed for the first time that they were pushed deep into the earth. I jerked them free with a cry. "No! I'm human. Human!" My shout dared the forest to disagree, but it didn't. I sat still for a moment. There only seemed to be two options: move or stay. If I stayed the forest spirits would come to finish what they'd started, or they would leave me to die. The thought of trying to escape forest spirits whilst surrounded by woods seemed ludicrous, but it was the only chance I had. Decision made, I stood once more. With the sky hidden I had no sense of direction, and so, reluctantly, I reached out with my unwelcome new senses. The forest seemed endless. It wasn't. I cast about until I came to a place where the trees stopped abruptly. I'd only seen a city once, as a child, but I recognised the feel of it. It crawled with life like an anthill, cut off from the forest that surrounded it by the pact between men and spirits. I pushed that thought from my mind and started walking. It grew dark as I travelled. For a while I didn't notice, until a lapse in concentration cost me my sense of direction. Darkness flowed in as if a lamp had been extinguished. I whimpered and clutched the nearest tree trunk for support. "Don't panic," I whispered. My voice sounded too loud and made me giggle. Hysteria bubbled at the edge of my awareness, and I felt my way down a tree to rest. I curled up and hugged my knees to my chest. I think I slept. Voices called to me. They sounded like my siblings but it was impossible to tell. My thoughts wandered, looking for them, until I came up against the city. Suddenly, I was awake. After that, I didn't stop again. Hunger gnawed at me but I pushed it aside, or filled my belly with water whenever I came across a stream. I could have foraged—father had taught us all how—but it would have cost time, and the city burned in my awareness as if I'd stared too long at a lantern. Sudden daylight hurt my eyes. The trees ahead became silhouettes. I crept to the edge of them and shielded my eyes as I stared out at the world of men. The city towered, tall and grey, at the center of a circle of cleared land. Just as I'd felt, the forest came to an end as sharply as a knife-edge. A gateway made a dark shadow in the wall; people and vehicles streamed in and out of it along a dark grey road. There was a strange roaring hiss and I peered up at the sky to see the shiny contours of one of the aircraft. I’d only gone a few paces when the people at the gate noticed me. The column of walkers split to flow around me like water around a stone. One of the men checking people through the gate stepped forward and caught me as I stumbled. His uniform was grey, the same shade as the impossibly regular slabs of stone that made up the city wall. It was rough like felt, divided diagonally across his chest by a leather strap. "What happened?" He watched the trees and it occurred to me that I had no idea what to say. I made a vague gesture. "The forest . . . " It was enough. The guards bundled me inside. My sense of the entangled vegetation disappeared as soon as I passed the gate. I sobbed. The ground was cool and rough beneath my feet; I'd lost my boots somewhere. They passed me from person to person in a blur of activity. Someone tried to ask me questions, but I was too tired to give a coherent answer. A woman in blue shone a light in my eyes and inspected me with clinical efficiency. Her touch made me flinch, afraid she'd find the forest's taint on me. She didn't though, and she passed me to a man in green who had me strip and scrub clean in a shower of gloriously hot water. He gave me a set of loose pyjamas to wear and passed me to another man who gave me something to eat, then showed me to one of the beds in a long room. "Get some rest," he told me. "They'll want to talk to you again in the morning." I nodded and sank into the blankets. I couldn’t sleep; my thoughts were too jumbled. Instead I lay silently and watched the people come and go. It was like being invisible; no one paid me the slightest attention. Everyone in the beds seemed to be sick or injured, and tended by people dressed in green. I wondered how long I'd been away from civilisation that it took me so long to recognise an infirmary. Gradually the room quieted. The lights dimmed and the other patients drifted into sleep. One of the men in green came back and gave me a bitter-tasting drink. "To help you sleep," he said. "You'll feel better once you've rested." I drank greedily and welcomed the chance to forget for a little while. Instead of oblivion it gave me tangled dreams and old nightmares. Vines itched where they dug into my skin. I scratched and pulled them away and a breeze started to blow, full of forest scents. It made me shiver and I startled awake to find I'd kicked my blankets to the floor. My arms still itched and I scratched at them as I bent to retrieve the bedcovers. The breeze whispered over me and I looked up to see the door at one end of the ward was wide open. A cloaked figure stood there, face shadowed by a hood. There was the glitter of eyes as he turned and the blood seemed to freeze in my veins. The forest had followed me into the city. I gave a moan and tumbled from the bed. The occupant of the bed beside mine murmured but didn't wake. My feet caught in the blankets as I scrambled away, and I barrelled into the doors at the other end of the room. A glance over my shoulder told me the figure hadn't moved. The eyes still watched me; I knew it even though I couldn't see them. I choked back a cry and fled. Somehow I made it through the maze of corridors to the outside. It was night, but the city blazed with light. Lanterns on tall poles created a parody of day that ended twenty feet above my head. The streets were still busy, so unlike the evening stillness of my home that I gaped. A movement behind me reminded me why I was there, and I slipped out into the crowd. My pyjamas and bare feet marked me as not belonging as surely as if I'd worn a pair of antlers. The people I passed gave me a wide berth, and looks of pity or contempt. On the other side of the street a man in the same grey uniform as the gate guards spotted me. He spoke into a black box, his gaze never leaving me, as he approached. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked. "No, I'm fine." The tremor in my voice gave away the lie. He smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring and took my arm at the elbow. "You look lost. Let me help you back to the hospital." "No." I tried to free my arm but his grip was firm. "I can't go back. Someone came after me." "The security staff will be able to protect you." He spoke as if I were a child. "No one's going to hurt you." He began to walk me back with a gentle firmness that reminded me of my father. "Please. I can't go back. Please!" He paid no attention until my steps faltered and I stopped dead, planting my feet like roots. He couldn't move me. Surprise crossed his face as he turned to me, and I was sure it mirrored my own. There wasn't time to wonder what had happened; the shadows of a nearby alley beckoned. From beyond it came the scent of water, open spaces, and more importantly, no people. I twisted free of the man's grip and bolted like a rabbit going for its warren. My headlong dash let me outpace him for long enough to reach the alley. He shouted, possibly at me and possibly for backup. I paid no attention and followed where my instincts told me to go. Somewhere along the way I lost him, and myself, and I stopped. There were no lights here, only the stars and a sliver of moon above. They reflected in a huge, still pool, and I realised I was in some kind of garden. It looked like it had been landscaped once, but now it was abandoned to time and litter. The plants were straggled and unhealthy. As I drew closer to the pool I realised that the surface shimmered with an oily layer, and shuddered. "Nothing of the forest can survive here for long." The voice made me jump. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the same-cloaked figure as before. There was nowhere to hide. I turned to face him. "Have you come to kill me?" The figure stopped and raised his hands. I flinched, but all he did was tug down the hood of his cloak. He looked human, or mostly human. There was no sign of horns or antlers, no traces of bark on his pale skin. The only thing that gave him away as a forest spirit were his eyes; too golden to belong to a man. "Why would I kill you?" "That's why you came after me, wasn't it? Because I wouldn't stay." "That's why I came," he agreed. "But not for the reason you think." "Then why are you here?" His shoulders rolled in a shrug. "To talk." "About what?" "What happens next." "You go away and I stay here, that's what happens next," I retorted. I wondered if I could outrun him, or whether he'd kill me if I tried. He gave a faint smile. The forest-scented breeze gusted again and in a heartbeat he was beside me. "If you stay here you'll die." There was nothing threatening in his tone, just a statement of fact. "I thought you said you wouldn't kill me." "I won't." He gestured around at the glistening pool and withered plants. "This place will. You know the pact." "The pact states that the worlds of men and the forest will be independent, each to their own in their own place," I snarled. "And I'm a man." "No." His voice was soft, no louder than the rustling of leaves. "You're not." It felt like the bottom had dropped out of my stomach. "That's a lie." He took my hand and drew back the sleeve of my pyjamas. The skin was red and angry where I'd scratched at it, and marred with a snaking brown pattern as if ivy had grown there and died. "See?" he said. "The forest marked you." I jerked my arm away and covered it again. "The forest did this to me, after it took the wrong brother!" "The forest only takes its own," he corrected. "Those already marked. It sees that more clearly than man, sometimes. Your brother never belonged to the forest. He's just a man who's close to it. Like your father." I stared at him. "But Erren loves the forest! He spent hours there, when we were children. He was always rescuing wild things, while I . . . " My voice trailed off as the spirit looked at me impassively. "Your instinct was to leave them to die, if that was their fate." "Just like the forest would," I whispered. "But then why didn't I feel something? Some connection? I just had nightmares." "You feared for your brother. Perhaps if your parents had not impressed upon you both that he was the forest's child you'd have felt differently." My eyes were squeezed shut, but I knew he still watched me. "I doubt it," I said bitterly. "It's still taken us away from each other. Only I haven't just lost a brother now, but a whole family." The thought of never seeing them again, of Erren forced to adjust to a life he didn't want, made my insides hurt. I opened my eyes and met his gaze. "Do you remember what it was like to lose everything you held dear?" I demanded. "To . . . " "My family had two sets of twins," he said. "I lost a sister first. It was her they sent for me, when the time came. Even after only a handful of years she was different, and I ran." Horror shivered through me. "You think it was cruel of them." He shook his head. "That wasn't their intent. They meant to show me that no harm had come to her, only that she'd grown and changed just as if she were still human. All I saw was that she wasn't human any more. I fled, just like you did." He'd fled, but he'd gone back anyway. "What happened?" I whispered. "I tried to live a human life. For a while, I succeeded. I even convinced myself I was happy. But I wasn't. I drank to hide it, until finally I lost everything. I ended up destitute, sleeping outside in places just like this. Finally I realised I'd chosen the forest after all, and I went back." He looked at our surroundings, his eyes full of old pain. "The forest calls its children. They come, or they die." Something dawned on me. "But why help those who run, if they're fated to die? Why help me?" "When a fledgling falls from the nest," he replied with a smile, "sometimes the adult birds will feed it until it learns to fly." "What . . . " My mouth was dry and I faltered. "If I go with you, what will I become?" The look he gave me was as steady as an oak. "Whatever you're supposed to be." That forced a bitter laugh from me. "I thought I already knew what that was." A breeze rippled a rainbow on the surface of the pond. If I stayed I'd still lose my family, and if I left I'd stop being me. But maybe that was inevitable. All it came down to was deciding how I'd rather become someone else. My guide watched silently as I shivered in my thin pyjamas and made my choice. No one saw us leave. That night I slept deeply, and dreamed I was wrapped in the forest's embrace. Child of the Pact
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