The trees shimmered in the Forest and he did not know where he was. Nameless creatures all around and it was both hot and cold at the same time. Something moved in the dark among the branches that made up what there was of his being. A voice called out Luke, Luke. He turned and he slept.

He was scared in the mountain and ran among all the caves. Hartor was angry. He had offended the gods. A serpent hunted through the tunnels, searching, searching. Luke ran to hide but he was not anywhere, he was all the tunnels at once and the snake was part of his being. The mountain shook. Luke shouted, the snake was quiet, frightened. He heard his name, felt the cool touch on his hand, rested uneasily.

From time to time the women woke him to take a little soft food or broth and twice a day they carried him like a baby to urinate in the bushes and they would give him cold clear water and he would return to a bed with clean dry covers and they would hold hot cloths to his chest and though he did not like sleeping he could do nothing else. The little boy was allowed in to see his father and Luke loved holding the tiny hand as the child said words he could not make out.

In his dreams all the dead people rose and mocked him, silently calling him to join their dishevelled ranks. I will join you in time, he said, but I have work to do. The Forest waited for him, every tree a dead person, he had not known there were so many people in the whole world. Amongst them an unquiet ghost skulked and prowled among the feet of a horse and revealed its face so suddenly it made him cry out.

“Yan!”

He was aware of the constant presence of his tenders, day and night nursing him and holding him, an young woman and an older one whose names he knew but could not say. He knew he was desperate to get back to them but could not say why. In a more lucid moment he tried opening his eyes but it hurt so much he sank back into sleep.

Next time the trees tried to move out of place Luke ordered them to attention. He was the hunter, the beating heart of the Forest. The animals revered him. He called out three times and the third time a shape rose before his eyes.

Yan’s face gradually appeared, the short cropped dark hair of a seventeen year old. The friendly broad face and thick muscles. I’m sorry, said Luke. I let you die.

Yan looked at his friend. It was not your fault he said gently. I would have died anyway. You know what I was like. He lifted his hand and pushed his finger into Luke’s forehead, disappeared.

*

Luke woke to the sound of birdsong, fresh, exhausted. Ruth sat beside him, baby large in her tummy.

“Ruth.”

“You’re back. The fever broke in the night. Don’t move, you still need to rest. We’ll prop you up and get you some food.”

Luke realised how hungry he was, felt how thin he had become. “How long have I been away?”

“It was eight nights,” said Ruth. “They thought you were not going to make it but I wouldn’t allow them to say. I kept the faith. I said to them, you are made of the rock that comes out of the mountain. We have these skills, it is good for us to believe in them.”

“I don’t feel much like a mountain at the moment,” said Luke.

Samor came into the room, climbed onto the bed. Luke felt wasted looking down at his thin body. The boy touched the scar on his chest. There was a purple bruise running all the way down to the top of his legs. He hugged his son.

“We’ll build you up and you’ll be like new,” said Ruth. As she did the door opened and one of the women came in with a small plate. “Here you are. Little and often.” She had hardly left the room before the food on it had disappeared.

*

Luke walked with Ruth among the trees. Even after three days he was not ready for strenuous exertion but still he was faster than her with the child kicking her tummy. “Tell me about your medicine.”

“You want to know everything, Luke. My father tells me this. Only the women know about medicine.”

“But you do know. You must have secrets of the Old Ones.”

“We do. They are only shadows of the old ways. But they are enough for us.”

They sat on a ledge overlooking a small drop. Luke liked the breeze, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Who is Yan?” asked Ruth.

Luke looked puzzled.

“You were calling for him in your fever.”

“He was my friend. He died.”

“I’m sorry. Is this why you sometimes walk around like a ghost?”

“Maybe. I shouldn’t. But it’s in the past. I’m better now. Where’s Hartor?”

“He is out on his travels,” said Ruth. “He would not say much. He seemed displeased. But he never is that happy. I think his work is a lot for him. All these years. I think he won’t be happy till a new person takes over. It won’t be long now.”

From where they sat they could see part of the the wide road curling down the side of the mountain, the trail of the Old Ones. “Does anyone ever go that way?”

“Some people use it. It is easier on the feet and you can walk more quickly. But horses don’t like it, the harsh surface hurts their toes. And it hasn’t been kept well, grass and trees are starting to grow again and snakes live in the holes.”

“Elenea is a long way ahead of us,” said Luke, “even though we know so many things.”

“They do things while we just have knowledge,” said Ruth. “Knowledge is important. There is plenty in our mountain But yes, we do have to catch up.”

“People live in the mountain, Hartor says. Or do they just work there?”

“Mostly they live in the land below and go there to make tools or do metalwork. There are some who live there. People who like living in half darkness, perhaps they cannot see well in the light. Priests, keepers of knowledge. Many people go there for a short period to learn skills.”

“We had a place like that in Athelea,” said Luke. “But it was very small in comparison, only a few teachers and the Elders.”

“We have Elders too,” said Ruth. “You will not meet them very often. My father has not even told you about them, he does not want you sharing information with your brother. But he has too much caution, he is getting old himself.”

By where they were sitting was a bunch of primroses. Ruth reached over, sniffed them without picking. “These are almost ready.”

“Are they the flowers you use for healing?”

“People lost almost everything when the Old Ones died,” said Ruth. But from the very first times they retained as much medical skill as they could. The first Hartor knew two things for survival. Food and medicine. According to legend he gathered together all the knowledge and made the women recite it. The names of the herbs and flowers, where to find them and how to prepare them, and what they were used for. The types of moss and mould that could be used to treat fever, and ways of cutting the body to let bad blood out. How to extract teeth and stem the bleeding. The best way to deliver babies and ensure they survive the first month. The need to keep tools clean using boiling water or wine spirit. Now we have metal it makes it easier, it cuts the skin much more easily. These flowers produce a juice that reduces the spread of redness in a sore.”

“I think this is as much as I need to know,” said Luke. “Can we walk?”

“In our language they are called candula,” said Ruth. I was thinking it would be a nice name for a girl. We often name girls after flowers. It would be a memory to the plant that saved you.”

“It is your choice,” said Luke. “See what the other women think.”

They went round in a circle ending at the lake. A woman Luke had not seen before approached.

“Reni, this is Luke, my husband.”

“Luke. I had heard you have been ill. You are in good hands with Ruth and her mother.”

“More Mother than me, I think. I learned much but she gave the orders.” Ruth looked at her hands, wondering when she would be the mother giving the orders. She turned to Luke.

“Reni is helping me decipher the symbol writing of the Old Ones. We have some of their books, they are fragile but we can see enough to copy. You will not know, there are those in the mountain who work with us. We have to go to a place where it is light, they are not good at seeing but their eyes are quick and clear to recognise the symbols. We have debates about what it all means.”

“So this is what goes on in the hidden places?”

“Some of the guilds will not give up their secrets to anyone who moves in the open world,” said Ruth. “But there is much new knowledge where we have to ask anyone who can lend an opinion. The symbol script is hard, we only travel slowly.”

Luke could not follow well as they discussed the latest deductions, but he did wonder what it would be like to be able to decipher the old writings, learn their secrets. He wondered if perhaps he would be able to send a message in the old script, have some one read it a long way away, but then he thought, why not just send a messenger, and he thought about it no more.

*

On the fifth day of his convalescence he ventured a short way up the hillside and saw a familiar horse approaching.

“Luke. I had heard you were back among us. How are you recovering?”

Hartor pulled his horse up and dismounted. Luke nuzzled up against the animal, the scent suddenly making him want to be back in the field.

“She tells me I have to do this for another five days and then we will see. But surely I can ride a horse, it is so easy.”

“We have to do what our women tell us, Luke. No man can fight that.”

“And what do you say? Should I be working?”

“There is much to be done. You have started something that will lead us in all directions.”

“You don’t approve.”

“Why would I approve. You didn’t ask me for consultation.”

“What would you have said?”

“You know what I would have said. That is why you went ahead and did it without asking.”

“Do you not think I had to?”

“Young men do what they have to. I am the one who has to pick the broken pieces and try to make something of them.”

“And what do you make of them?”

"More questions." Hartor patted his horse, held it still. “There are many pieces. Elenea is unstable and I think frightened. Your brother is increasing in power. He has extended his hold into the Elenean part of the Hinderith all the way to the border with the northland. He does not fight like an army, he fights like bandits and it is very effective. In and out, get what he wants and everyone is afraid of him. We have to deal with Peter. And as you know there is a succession to deal with next year. That will determine whether we live in war or peace.”

“You want me to succeed you. What would have happened if I had died?”

“That is one piece I no longer have to deal with, at least for now. But yes, the men of Trantrith are divided. Marcos knows mountains, he is the one warrior who could come in by force. Many of them were minded to make it easy by inviting him, hoping he would be generous in return. I think that is what they would decide, but it would be a mistake. He would be powerful and it would depend on his goodness. I think the whole world would be in danger.”

“Surely one man could not rule the inside of the mountain and all the surrounding lands by force.”

“No, there are many secrets and no one person knows them all. The mountain would retreat into itself in the face of an overstrong ruler. But a ruler should be a man who can observe the ways of peace as well as those of battle. You have introduced horses and are good at making things and thinking things. With Marcos it would be all fighting and a generation or more before we advance again. It would be nice to learn how to travel over water, I would like to examine this when I no longer have these duties to carry out.”

“I have ideas too, we can use these when we are at peace. I think it will no be so hard. My friend Yan, I know he used to go in the apos. I told him again and again not to but I am sure he did. Maybe it is not so dangerous. Well, there are buildings than can fall on you and they are overgrown with trees and full of snakes, but we handled all that in Elenea. If instead of smoking out the insides of houses and just taking the stone and metal we are more careful, we could examine their handiwork and copy it. And there will be books too, some will surely have been preserved, which will help in our deciphering of the symbol script.”

“Ruth has been talking to you. Yes it is time to move out of our old ways. This it what you have taught us. Who is Yan?”

“Oh, he was my huntboy. Years ago.”

“He is not here. Did he die?”

“Yes. It was my fault, I blame myself all the way. He wanted to be like me. He wanted to take the warrior ritual like I did, I was young and even I find my action foolhardy. I had to kill a horse, hard to believe, it would be contrary to law now. He could have hiked three nights in the Hinderith or being strong he could have carried a stone the weight of a man two leagues and everyone would have revered him. But no, he was killed and I did not even find out till I returned from my first trip to Elenea.”

“That is your darkness, Luke. Now I see it clearly. It is what I have observed in men before. That is why you cannot settle.”

“I can do it now. When Death spoke it told me life goes forward not back.”

“It certainly does do that. Now, what about Peter?”

*

Luke gave this a good day’s thought, wandering alone in the open land and lying awake at night. He met again with Hartor next day in the late afternoon, the bright sun burning through the cool mountain air. They sat on the mountain rocks and Luke looked far out to the distant sea. “He built his town single handedly. It is some achievement.”

“Not exactly single handed. He had my men and their techniques.”

“Is he your man? You have been talking to him.”

“I have been talking to everyone.”

“What have they been saying?”

Hartor thought for a time. “Morian has a good understanding of the situation. He is a great supporter of you. In his position he cannot easily take sides but you ought to speak to him. He knows you better than probably any man alive.”

“Will he want to kill me?”

“Morian? No, you mean Peter. Possibly. But he will not do so.”

“Then he is your man.”

Hartor looked again at the distant view over the side of the mountain where the old road twisted down. “It is a shame they went to so much effort to clear this path in my grandfather’s generation, it is once again hard to walk on by now.”

“You could make it better,” said Luke. “You know the material the surface is made of melts under heat. In Elenea we evened out the holes by building fire on them and pushing air down from above with blowbags. Then the soft material can be raked into place while it is hot. It is slow but we had many men.”

“I have many men,” said Hartor. “I put them to work hollowing out a cave in a mountain just because that is what my ancestors did. So many better things we could be doing.”

“So many things we are doing, Hartor. Progress is fast. The old ways are falling into legend, a new civilisation is dawning. Maybe we will go into legend.”

“Maybe you will, Luke. Maybe so.”

*

On his way to the Lodge Luke took his horse across the Tecana to a place high up between the twin rivers where there was a farm. Some distance from the main building was a hillock and at the base a chiselled stone cross, the work of many hours. Luke had never understood the meaning of a cross for death but he had seen them used in Trantrith as well. Eleneans preferred to bury their dead under a mound of earth with flowers on top to emphasise regrowth. Dismounting he stood in front and let his mind focus. A woman stood watching him, some distance away. He waved to her, walked over.

“Luke. How you’ve changed. You look quite a warrior.”

“My apologies, matria, for not coming before.”

“You would come in your own good time. You were always inseparable. Will you come in to the house, I have instructed to have some food prepared.”

Luke followed her into the hut. Yan’s father was in the darkness and it took some time for his eyes to adjust.

“I am afraid our house is just as humble as it used to be. At least we have a stool for you to sit on.” Some food came in and was placed on a low dais. Luke recognised the lady, it had to be Yan’s younger sister.

“I’m on my way to the Lodge,” said Luke, not really knowing how to make conversation. “I’m travelling a lot these days. I’ve been ill, a lot to catch up on.”

“We won’t keep you,” said Yan’s mother. “Affairs of the country are important.”

“I came past the apo from the high ground,” said Luke. “Always a long detour.”

“Wouldn’t have stopped him,” said the father. “He'd have gone straight through the middle.”

“I always told him not to go in there,” said Luke. “I thought it far too dangerous. Not so sure now. But they are pretty horrible all the same.”

“He would take the dogs in. He had a method. He’d let them run ahead and he said, if they fell down he would know there was bad air and not to go in. They always came back though.”

“He had good ideas,” said Luke. “I miss him and his ways.”

“So do we all,” said the mother. His brothers are gone now too, married with their own lives to live. But as long as you’re here, it’s like having him. You’re welcome here any time.”

Luke breathed in the smell of the hut, so familiar from his younger days. Like many whose children had grown they seemed to be fading away, he wondered what he could do but they looked contented. Peace was something to be prized. Looking outside he saw how much the sun had moved and went for his horse, he wondered perhaps if they had ever even had one on this farm before. Then he thought of the battle that had been fought just a league downhill from this farm, they had not even mentioned it. He waved to the parents as he left, saluted as he passed the grave, and moved on.

*

He entered the town of Treaty from the hills, straight into the military part without passing the houses. Other horses followed behind. He was more nervous than for any appointment in his life. The day was hot, hardly any sea breeze and birds wandered listlessly overhead. Soldiers straightened as he passed and let him through without hesitation. He stopped near a group of men he knew.

“Where do I find the prisoner?”

One of the men stopped what he was doing and led him to the hut. Two soldiers outside stood to attention. He dismounted and the man who had guided him took the horse.

“How is he keeping?” he asked the guards.

“He has been looked after, sir. You may go in.”

Letting the guards enter first he saw Peter sitting on a bale of straw. There was another similar opposite which he took for himself. The guards stood to attention one either side, clearly they were used to him having visitors. As he acclimatised to the indoor setting he took in the prisoner.

His hands were still tied but only in a token arrangement, the vines were arranged so he could move freely. He looked well fed and exercised and in good health. His clothes were clean and the room smelt as good as a prison cell could ever manage to be.

“You’re not going to kill me.” The younger man sounded surly but not offensive.

“Should I? My concern is over your intentions not mine.”

“I was not under orders. What would you have done?”

It was a question Luke had asked himself. He nodded. “What did Hartor say?”

“He said to stop fighting. He said he does not want a blood feud. But one exists.”

“You are Hartor’s man,” said Luke.

Luke drew his feet up, pushed himself back on the seat, leant against the wooden frame of the hut. He waited a few seconds before continuing.

“Under Athelean law if two men each have a blood feud against the other they settle it by a headfight. Are you familiar with the custom?”

“I am not from savage parts.”

“Under instruction from the Elders, a field will be set out for them and they carry a weapon each. Once they enter only one of them may leave alive. By custom the loser of the duel is buried where he fell. Except only if they both approach the Elders beforehand and agree they do not wish to do this, then the feud is over and they must not fight again. I have already spoken to Morian, you may if you wish do the same.”

Luke looked at Peter carefully, it was time, turned to the guards. “Untie his hands.” One stood over Peter while the other removed the bonds.

Luke moved forward in his seat. Removing the metal dagger from his belt he held it by the blade. The guards stood nervously.

Luke looked Peter in the eye, placed the dagger flat on the ground between them, blade pointing sideways to where one of the guards stood. Peter looked at it. Luke moved back, vulnerable.

Peter gazed at the blade, reached over, picked it up, examined the metal with delicate care. Turning it so it faced in the opposite direction, towards the other of the guards, he replaced it on the ground.

Luke nodded to the guard on his right who came forward and picked it up with some relief, returned to his station stowing it carefully in his belt.

“What will you do now?”

Peter looked tired. “What am I allowed to do? I hardly dare go back home. I wish I had never left the farm. I was happy there.”

“You could make a farm,” said Luke. “You’re good enough to build a town. There’s plenty of land in Trantrith, and not many people.”

“Hartor built the town. But yes I could do that,” said Peter. “A farm would not be difficult.”

“Or there’s Athelea. Not as backward as your people think. My father is getting on, he could do with a farm manager. And I don’t suppose either of us are going to want to inherit when he goes.”

“You trying to buy me off?”

“No, it was just a suggestion. You have plenty of time to think about it. Now, there is someone outside who would like to meet you.”

He let Peter out of the hut first, covertly collecting the metal dagger from the guard by the door. A young man stood by his horse.

“Thomas. You came. So good to see you.” Peter slapped hands with him in the Athelean tradition and hugged shoulders.

“I live in Gat now, all the time. You must call me Toth again. Jogan is here too.”

Peter looked to his right, the older brother was there, mounted, waving diffidently.

“Sit behind me,” said Toth. “We will take you away from here.”

As the riders moved off along the familiar route across the hills and under the shadow of the tall mountain Luke wondered whether he, too, would have been happier just staying on the farm and living a normal life. But then he looked to his left at the looming peak and it called to his spirit, lifting him to higher levels, and he knew he would never find rest anywhere else.