The forest was a far more forbidding place on the ground, a feeling that Hyran had never succeeded in getting rid of as he grew up. The trees were immensely bigger than a Vle, and all the more so when viewed from the base. But such a feeling was irrational. After all, the trees had given so much to the Vle.
It already seemed as though the walk had taken forever, and it still seemed he had forever to go. It was impossible to see very far in the forest, and the road of course could not simply go straight through. Instead it wound from tree to tree, little more than dirt where there would otherwise be plants. He remembered that his old house had been some distance off the road to the north, and the tree to look for had a simple arrow ‘sung into it. However, any path there might have been was almost certainly obliterated by now.
Eventually, the road met the one from Sakes, the capital of Varabia, and Hyran continued toward Dronac. This road, of course was much busier, meaning that he actually saw other travelers on the road. The occasional merchant’s coach passed, and a messenger on a horse at full gallop, plus the odd traveler going at a much more relaxed pace. A few of the latter actually slowed further to talk to him.
The second one that stopped was full of news. “The King’s proclamation has really put this nation in jeopardy,” said the mounted Vle, who had introduced himself as Intosh. He was dressed fairly well, in the latest metallic colors. A merchant, perhaps, or a banker.
“Oh? Economically, or—”
“That, and there are rumors of armies massing outside our borders.”
“Rumors?” asked Hyran skeptically.
“Yes, I realize one cannot always believe every rumor, but this is one that seems to be confirmed by every merchant and traveler coming out of A’peine.”
“A’peine? I would have expected Varmacia to attack first, if anyone. Are they no longer the strongest of our neighbors?”
“Well... Yes, I suppose you could say that. A’peine’s not far behind, however, and remember those of Karel Island.”
“Yes, of course.” Oh, dear. War. Would that be enough to make the Representative speak against the King? “Does anyone have any idea how long until the battle begins, if it does?”
“No. Oh, I’ve heard everything between a tomorrow and next month, but I’m reasonably sure that if they are massing, it’s a bluff to make our great King let the light Vle go.”
“You have given me much to think about, Intosh. I should not presume to hinder your way further.”
“Oh, nonsense, it’s always a pleasure talking to a fellow traveler. However, I do have some distance yet before I reach the next town. Happy travels!”
“Indeed, the same for you,” Hyran replied, and the mounted Vle spurred his horse to a trot.
War?....
Sure enough, the brilliant orange arrow was still on the tree, and Hyran stopped. As he remembered, his house was on the fourth tree in, but now it was a matter of getting there through the thick underbrush. The point where the path had begun was now nothing more than a widening in the road, where more than a few travelers had left signs of having overnighted. Beyond that, there did seem to be a section where the vegetation was shorter and not so thick, but that could have been Hyran’s imagination.
Imagination or not, he pushed his way in. Each step was an effort, and he had to keep his hands up in front of his face. On and on he pushed, reaching the second tree.... then the third, and finally the fourth. He looked up, and found the remains of the house, even more delapidated now than when he had returned thirty years before. It was even an effort to begin the climb up, since many of the steps were now gone. They simply went straight up the tree like a ladder, and on more than one occasion, Hyran had a three-rung space to cross.
Finally, he made it to the small platform in front of the house, which had a few holes. Those would have to be patched, of course; for the moment, he went on into the house itself.
It was musty inside, and the smell of sap was thick. Given time, a tree would always try to reclaim what it had lost. Only continuous occupation could prevent it it. Now, however, all of the surfaces were rougher, and extended from where they had been. Hyran often had to duck, and the overall floorspace was smaller, but the one room would still serve... once he got a treesinger to deal with the floor and ceiling, that is. His own skills were too rusty from disuse.
He went back out, to check the garden. The soil had been stubbornly unproductive before, a dry, red color that indicated the lack of any decayed matter at all.
Now, however, it seemed a few generations of hardy plants had taken over and made it fertile again. There were still a few insect-catchers, but the rest were tall grasses and spiny weeds. They would all have to go, of course.
But that could wait. He was too tired to do anything just yet.
The birds that woke him the next morning sang a strange song, a familiar song. The species in that part of the country were somewhat different than near the monastery, and it was strange to hear them now after so many years of being away.
He got up and dug in his bag for breakfast, thinking about what he needed to do: Till the garden, patch the platform, replace some ladder rungs, collect whatever fruits might be growing below, and maybe try his luck at treesinging to make more headroom. Otherwise, it would be a long walk to the nearest town. (Would Jabbro even still be alive? Or perhaps his son...)
One by one, he tackled the chores. However, it all took much longer than he had expected. In fact, it was a week before the reconstruction projects were finished, and he was gratified that he could still at least ‘sing a floor and ceiling back to flatness.
But as engaging as the work was, he still felt something was wrong. He felt as if he’d abandoned someone, or something. But that wasn’t true! He had stood up for what he’d believed, and the monastery had abandoned him. The fate of the nation was now out of his hands.
And yet the twinge of guilt remained. All of his chores seemed pointless. They preserved life, but were so base in comparison to the things that were going on beyond his little section of the Great Forest. This was very much how he had lived the last thirty years— absorbed only in the immediate interests of the monastery, as grandly spiritual as they were. And that had been enough, because they were of course so much more important than anything else.
Perhaps that was what he was missing.
