Giants' Gate: Tales of Ardonna

BOOK I

1

The trees appeared closer. Just in the time it took to wash out garments. Branches stretched, longer than I recalled, casting feathery shade. Splayed roots slapped the river, raising waves. Sedgewellow youths, like burly adolescents, dared me to challenge them. I darted home, skirting the base of the tower, and slipped inside, basket of soggy clothing bobbing on my hip.

Hey! Help! The Wood is about to invite itself to dinner!

Dad came out from the family room. That is overly dramatic. The aggressors are saplings.

They are taller than me. I swept past him and dropped the basket by the fireplace.

Mama looked up from her sewing. Maddie is not wrong, Reed. The Wood closes in. It’s been ten years since the kingdom fell, and the forest’s animosity has only increased. We should ride the river west while the weather holds.

Finally, some sense! Perhaps I’d find my friends.

Dad squinted. Into human lands?

Our uncle traveled through, I reminded him. He thrives on the coast.

The realm of Sharren has spread since then, boosted by refugees from new Maldhonia. I have seen it in the waves. Its citizens have grown more religious and less friendly.

Those people won’t touch our family. All fear us. They renamed the river after my sister.

Someday, when Cali and I meet again—maybe in the south, in the glittering halls of Quenelle—we will laugh about it.

Dad smiled. Even so. Fear provokes violence. This time of year the waterways will be clogged with their crafts.

The only other route west is the king’s highway. Mama set her mending aside. We won’t meet any humans on that road, but it is Wood Land now.

Papa came in, arms full of firewood. His face bore a long, angry scratch.

I hurried over. You are bleeding.

He set the logs near the hearth. It is nothing. Sedgewellows testing their strength.

Time was, trees were allies. Our country had held a festival to celebrate this every year. Dawn of Spring had been my favorite holiday. Mages had turned lustful. Off their guard. My teammate Vivi had secured a match at our last Spring Feast. The man was of a good house, with holdings greater than her family’s estate. All our lives had held promise. Then humans came with their murder-toys and turned the land against us.

Let me tend to it. Mama swooped in, with her mother-hen energy that directed a tower of children and spouses. She gathered supplies, commanding him to take a seat, then dabbed the wound with a cleansing balm. It is not deep.

Not this time, I muttered, returning to my over-filled basket.

Maidservants had done my laundry at court. Now I shared housework with my sisters. Bad enough without living under siege! I set up the drying racks near the fire, cursing my life under my breath.

Dad sat and filled his pipe. We agreed it was sensible to stay put, with the twins so young.

Mama applied a poultice, eliciting a wince. River and Rain are no longer little. They have passed their dedication ceremony. She wound gauze around Papa’s face like a scarf.

Thank you, dear one. Papa eased the wrappings down to speak. Must we use those nicknames? They are trite. I found it sweet when Elli was young and couldn’t pronounce their proper designations, but she is a woman now.

Mama shrugged. They are easier on the tongue. Water-based.

Neldhanama and Ardonathia are grand names with purpose, boasting roots in both land and water.

The girls prefer the shorter ones.

Dad raised a practiced eyebrow at me. Madoleina, show respect. Drae—he used Papa’s nickname, making a point—the water blessed our Cali, who rarely heard her full name spoken.

He had a way with him: the right mix of piety and sense to soften Papa’s heart. The younger man conceded. They clasped arms once Mama let him up, balance restored.

Papa moved to a stool near the fire to feed in kindling. For my part, I vote to travel. We’ve cowered too long in our tower.

River’s Eye, it’s called—the king’s watchtower. The Arthigones were duty bound to keep his border secure. Yet this boundary no longer existed. And our king had vanished into dirt.

I had hoped the girls could finish their studies.

Dad had his jaw set, but I read conflict. His wistful voice and quivering heartbeat betrayed him. He didn’t want to leave. His library was here, plus his science experiments. Yet, as the most learned of us, Dad knew the tower of the Arthigones offered no lasting protection. Trees chew through rock.

Study for what purpose? I asked.

Education is a goal unto itself, Papa said.

Yes. The trees are sore impressed by my command of dialects and philosophy.

Dad glared over his pipe. One didn’t take that tone in his house. Bleeding hells! Circumstances had forced me to shelter inside my family home, but I was no child. I slapped clothing onto racks, splattering droplets over hearth and floor.

Per Maldhonian law, assuming it still applied, my thirty-two years made me a legal adult. My parents frequently forgot this. Or ignored it completely. First life is considered perpetual youth, preparation for the spiral, but my education and magecraft are solid and my pedigree equal to the new queen of Sharren’s. Had fortune remained, I’d have been a lady of a manor by now. That had been my destiny.

It should have been.

I watched two friends die in our ascension trial. It now seems a waste.

Chaos had defeated our safe, orderly realm. The golden halls and finery. Cheerful inns and banquets. Sparkling music—notes dancing like souls. All now tearstained memories. My bright future as the desirable daughter of the Arthigones had faded with them. There were no more contests of skill or holiday balls or comely suitors. Or supplies.

We should go soon. Mama packed up her medical kit. It is past midsummer. Jadenalia will secure us, as Sharren’s queen. Our Cali is her teammate.

She had a pleasant spirit, Papa agreed. I would expect a warm welcome.

The Morlani heir has turned her back on her kind, Dad snarled.

I do not believe that. Mama tossed in items and slammed the cupboard doors.

How would we send a message? He scolded like an old professor. The young queen is no water master, and we have no birdcraft. We’d have to leave the river. Seek her on foot through the human city.

Vivi, Graiden, and Padge blended in.

They pass as human?

Dad’s sharp stare made me flinch. They embarked with those intentions. Joined a caravan up the king’s way. I considered going along.

My parents’ dismay filled the room with a subtle mist. I tossed wet clothing haphazardly, avoiding their stares. These are my teammates—a bond akin to blood. I didn’t wish to part. Grief, always lurking, pounced. Yet the idea of living among those people who’d defiled our country made me want to vomit.

Humans are not so bad. My sister Elli flounced in with her apron full of vegetables. Jade’s consort seemed a likable sort. Nobleborn, surely?

"Their people don’t have nobles. Or consorts. Jade called him husband."

She rolled her eyes. Which is like to a consort.

"Human tradition is nothing like ours. Their marriage is rigid—two people bound for life."

My sister blinked. Only two?

That is their custom. Dad wiped his pipe. Not our way.

Elli dumped her assortment of produce on the table. Many mages traveled to the coast. We could live in the old kings’ harbor. I have heard it is grand.

I scowled. It is a sailor’s hovel.

Nay, Maddie. The river hears merry voices from that settlement. Ancients have removed there and so our culture. Mama looked pointedly at Dad.

Commoners, he said. And those of lesser houses who would not be easily recognized. What of the greater houses? How many of our kind survived?

Mama sighed. The water lost track. Two high houses received land grants from Queen Jadenalia. For the far northlands—where the sun rarely shines, they say. Others crossed the Coastals in disguise. Many might yet live in Dayonia.

Among enemies of the crown. Who arrived there first. This is why our nobles seek oblivion. The banished of centuries will not be kind to Rey allies. Our family holds a lofty profile. How will we go unnoticed with the twins?

Dad had a point. My little sisters would be spotted. Waterborn mages are rare and tend to run in families. People would know us as Arthigones.

It is a long, treacherous road through the mountains. Are you girls prepared for this trial?

If you prefer to live among mages, it is a chance we must take, Mama told him.

Can we not teach humans mage ways? Elli asked. They have pleasing forms.

Papa shot a stern look. We’ll have no such talk.

Indeed. Dad united with Papa on this front. No daughter of mine will bind with humans.

Who else is there? I grumbled. We are surrounded on all sides.

If I’d known my teammate Sandion would be my only lover, I’d have appreciated him more. His sweaty hands and clumsy fingers. The reek of over-applied cologne. I wondered how he’d fared.

Dad’s irritation snapped to me. Blood is mixing. Sharren will dwindle to a lowborn realm. Gather your patience, daughters. The trees will fall into slumber with no Grove to shepherd them. This has happened before. My family survived the struggles in East Lansing.

Your family had to run, Mama said.

I hung the final garments and stretched, feeling sore. Let’s go south. To the pass. Quenelle is home to many of long pedigree.

Elli squealed with delight. My teammate, Treana, is there. And Cali.

All three parents looked incredulous.

Your sister could be anywhere, Mama reminded us. She has a traveler teammate.

Torkin and Pentiere meant to seek Quenelle. Cali and Stev would wish to catch up. That kingdom has all the society we’ve lost. Do you want to live in a hut on the beach like Uncle Ravlin? Let us break free of northern ancients with their dusty squabbles.

We would be free of winter down there too, Elli added. The sun always shines, they say. Magery can be used without restraint—Quenelle has humans under control. And it is advanced beyond our dreams.

I have no such dreams. Papa fed in a log, setting the fire crackling. The Neldorlorum will guard our passage west if we are steady. Even over the falls.

The idea made me queasy. I lacked his level of devotion. My water ability took a practical form, for information gathering, defense, and occasional charm.

Quenelle is a wonder, my sister mused. I heard they were building a massive library. She glanced at Dad.

He set his pipe in its tray. I would like to see that.

South it is, then? I grinned.

Dad laughed. It would not be safe to trek the long leagues of the southern forest.

Where did you get this information about Quenelle? Papa asked.

Trea told me. Her family viewed tree memories. They sought a ship south. Elli paused. Are we still thought as teammates though we never ascended?

Surely, Mama assured her. It was not your fault.

She and I will be friends all our days. Should we ever meet again.

Life had been brighter with Vivi and Padge. Sandi and Graiden could annoy, but they’d been steadfast friends. I’d not meet with Domaitas again, nor Merilee, no matter my number of lives—we’d had no chance to bury them.

These days allowed no time for crying, just unnumberable hours of chores. I fetched knives and cutting boards, then joined Elli at the table. Water is aligned with land. This gives us an advantage in forests. Surely trees still honor those of good heart?

Who can say? Papa brought bowls and sat to snap beans. Our neighbor groves do not. We would lack the protection of the river down south. The Neldorlorum is our strongest ally. Perhaps we can cross to the opposite bank. Build a new home.

"Not go anywhere? Elli wrinkled her nose. That would do very well for the four of you, but what about Maddie and me? Shall we resign ourselves to being laborer spinsters?"

Who will carry on the Arthigone name? I added. Cali had no interest.

A mage has many lifetimes to put out shoots, Dad said.

No one will host our newborn spirits in the northern wilds. Elli cleaned vegetables with fury, scraping skin. We will only get one life. Like a human. There will be no chance of love.

Mama smiled. Love? I thought you girls were set on status and property?

One can have both. Or could have had. Dixon of the Volanthes favored me.

I didn’t think you favored him. I yanked at a stubborn corn husk.

She shrugged. He would have made a suitable match. The Volanthe lands were bountiful.

Dad nodded. I thought them a fine family. Pity what happened to them.

Our mournful lives aside, I said, the Wood’s ill mood can cross the river as easily as we.

The Neldorlorum will keep us. Papa exhibited an infuriating faith.

What if it doesn’t want to? I met his shocked gaze and held it. Things have changed. The water’s spirit is withdrawing. Can you not feel it? The river grows wild with the land.

Losing our grip on civility will not ease our situation. Dad favored me with his best glower. Our decision demands careful thought.

While trees disassemble the tower around us. Elli spoke softly, yet clear enough Mama scowled. My sister was no babe either. She’d just turned twenty-eight. We cannot go west. Nor south. And north is out. This leaves us with east—we can join the Codeys.

Thunderous roaring—the sound of the river rising—sent us running outside.

A wide swath of forest had flattened. Trees were retreating, creeping up the embankment like tall, spindly spiders. My teenage sisters stood in the river, eyes glowing like sun on water. Mother stood behind them.

River’s sparkling gaze turned our way. Sedgewellows thought to join our lessons.

Rain bounded closer. Those monstrosities caught us in their roots. Mother linked her power with ours.

The girls’ eyes had been a pretty rich brown. Now they were river-colored—no iris, nor pupil—muddy with hints of green. Sometimes dazzling. They’d lost their mage sight when the Neldorlorum took them, but blindness had never hindered the twins. Water advised their steps. Any source would do, from sea to sweat.

Mama waded in, scanning. Are you hurt? We all followed, more comfortable in the river than on the bank. The saplings had crept into the shadow of their elders.

Rain displayed an ankle. Only scratched.

We are not as hurt as the sedgewellows. River giggled.

Waves bounced merrily around her, enjoying the joke. The water’s spirit might be waning, but it still rose to guard my little sisters.

Aggression has increased, Mother said.

Mama nodded. We were discussing travel.

What is the consensus?

There is none, I told her.

We are down to east, said Elli.

River wrinkled her nose. To the Codeys?

Neldhanama. Papa pronounced her full name and nothing more.

I know. Be respectful. But these are interlopers.

Who taught you that word?

River glanced at Elli.

Everyone’s ancestors have been interlopers at some point, Mother reminded us. Ours migrated from the east. Look where contempt has brought us—balanced on the edge of chaos.

Yes, ma’am, River said. But I fear the People of the Code. They burn mages.

Don’t worry. Rain grinned. They huddle in their churches.

Ardonathia.

Sorry, Papa.

Mama shook her head. We will still be bickering when the Wood hangs us from vines.

This was not a remote possibility. Our large, turbulent family rarely reached accord. Should we somehow settle on a route, it would be well into autumn before we agreed on what to pack. The sun’s final rays rippled over the water, turning it the color of blood.

Papa gazed west. Let us ask the Neldorlorum to set our course.

That is a wonderful idea, Draedes. It has been long since we practiced our devotions as a family.

Mother offered her suggestions kindly, but she had the greatest lineage of the four—this was her family’s tower. The others had left their homes and names for her. Mother’s will prevailed.

I’d no quarrel with this plan: the river naturally ran west. Odds were, so would we. I joined hands with my family. The sunset energy bestowed a bracing jolt to fuel our petition.

Aulaurni. Papa led us in the chant with his cheerful melodious voice. Grant us your blessing.

We recited after: Aumaunerie. Know our need. Lead us true.

The sky above the western Coastals dwindled to pinkish-gray, but the water lit up behind us. An eager first moon leaped over the forest, as if chasing the sun. Papa pronounced this a sign we’d been heard.

We give thanks to the water.

Without water, there is no life.

Our family entered the tower laughing, cares dismissed. When the time came, the Neldorlorum would act as guide. We enjoyed our evening meal, then retired with confidence. In the morning, I woke to scratching outside my windows. All shutters opened onto forest.

2

My rooms sat at the tower’s top. I had an expansive bedchamber with bountiful closet space, plus a private sitting area. The upper floor used to be Cali’s, by right of being eldest and our Mother’s heir, but she’d never be back. I’d claimed it as next in line. She and I were Mother’s only blood daughters. Not that biology mattered to Maldhonian inheritance law. It only governed traits: shape of face or stubbornness, or talents. Should I die, or wander off, Elli would take my place as the Arthigone successor and would definitely move up a floor.

Well, no, not now.

River’s Eye had eight lofty stories, yet Wood ancients frowned in. Leafy limbs reached for me. I slammed and latched the shutters, snapping off branch tips, then dashed down the stairs, screaming.

My sisters shared the seventh floor. All three came running as I hit their landing, still in their dressing gowns.

Did you see?

Whatever are you on about? Elli pushed back disheveled curls. You woke us in a fright.

Come look! I marched into her room to throw back the curtains and shutters.

Elli’s window faced north, offering an expansive view of the Neldorlorum. Usually. Her eyes grew wide.

All my windows show the same. We are surrounded.

The twins stood behind her, noses in the air, collecting scents and impressions.

River frowned. What happened to the Neldorlorum? Its presence is normally strong.

Trees happened. Rain did a gesture akin to rolling her eyes, though the effect wasn’t the same in monochrome. Can’t you feel them? Smell the moisture inside their veins?

It’s like they dropped a wooden blanket, River said. Can anyone see our boat?

Elli sighed. I see nothing but angry trees. Perhaps you shouldn’t have drowned so many.

The tower trembled from the roots, like something had tried to tip it.

Mother will know what to do! River’s feet pounded on the stairs. Rain and Elli followed.

I trotted behind, trying to maintain some dignity. We swept by Dad’s lab, Mama’s art studio, and Papa’s contemplation space. My parents had woven their lives into a seamless whole. Every thread fit. The archives of the Arthigones had its own floor, containing our family’s compiled collections. How tragic to lose it all! I ran faster, bleating with my sisters.

Mother!

Our parents’ rooms sat one flight above ground—they would intercept intruders first, as family elders. All four were fit for battle. They never aged enough to suffer frailty and possessed talents befitting their long years. Re-emergence is the mage way, unlike humans who weaken and rot in the ground.

We found them in their private parlor, Mother on the sofa with Dad. My sisters ran to her.

Calm yourselves, dear ones—she gathered the twins close—No Arthigone has perished in a forest.

This was one time it felt a relief to be treated as a child.

My mother had been born before the Rey kings. She’d seen battle, marching with my ancient uncles when the dynasty changed. I’d never known her exact number of years. It is impolite to ask. Age brings insight and power, according to common wit, though I’d met elders who’d had me questioning this. With Mother, the adage proved true: few could match Theralina of the Arthigones in wisdom or watercraft.

Dad smiled broadly, following her lead. Maddie, Elli, help Mama with breakfast. We will eat heartily this morning, then pack.

He is next in age and authority, born in the eastern provinces during the third Rey king’s reign.

I will stoke the fire. Papa hurried ahead of us.

He’d been born several generations after Dad. Mama ascended during Alamartiere’s time—the second to last Rey king. This made her the youngest, though she’d been Mother’s first consort. Over years and rebirths, their ages had synchronized.

Not every buried mage returns to this world. Souls do roam. But my parents preferred their life together. Cali had insisted they were in love.

Elli and I followed Mama to the family room. Branches tapped the walls, as if probing for weak spots. The heavy door shook, momentarily bowing, but the bolt held. My father set the hearth crackling. Elli put the kettle on, then set up baking racks. I helped Mama knead cakes. We laid out an extravagant meal, using the bulk of the perishables.

The rest of the family gathered at Elli’s call. Papa led us in praise to water, without which we would have no food. He bid us eat thankfully and attend to flavors.

Mages revere these elements which maintain life: water, land, air—even fire, cautiously. Unlike humans, we understand. The uroborus reminds us of our place. I enjoyed what could be my last meal amid the forest’s relentless knocking. Cali would have done the same.

I’d never fully appreciated her burden until I’d assumed it. It fell to me now, as current eldest, to perform the role of heir and set an example. I’d not believed it possible for me to replace her—to find poise and circumspection beneath frivolity. But here I was, staying my sisters’ moans with a stern look.

These last miserable years had forced a change, a fiercer purpose. I savored tangy-sweet preserves and buttery cakes while the walls shook. A painting fell from its spot above the table, smashing roasted yams.

We have been fortunate, Papa said, to have always eaten well.

After breakfast, we crated the remainder of our provisions. The produce wouldn’t last, but there were canned and dried stores. Then everyone dispersed to dress for travel. We packed sensibly, under the stern eyes of Mama—no vanities were tolerated. I combed my rooms, fearful I’d forget something important.

At the top of my wardrobe, my hand met a bag. The contents clattered when I pulled it down.

***

Pentiere—Cali’s teammate and the king’s consort—tossed vials into a satchel. A dozen fit snugly. He threw more on top, then bound it.

Here are potions of understanding. The last of the king’s store. Distribute these to your family and whoever you deem deserving. The north is human land now.

***

Before she became royalty, Jadenalia had been a potion mage, daughter of a skilled family. Her grandest achievement was a concoction which gifted natives understanding of the refugee tongue. My fathers hadn’t approved—the mixture allowed for easier mingling—but both mages and humans had revered Jade. The citizens of new Sharren had made her their queen.

In the end, war had still destroyed us while we understood their fanatics’ chanting. Trees claimed all battlegrounds.

I’d given vials to my parents and little sisters, then stored and forgotten the rest. Now I counted them. Fifteen. They’d make an extra burden, yet seemed too precious to leave. I wrapped the satchel tight, then packed it with my garments and keepsakes.

We scoured the tower for irreplaceable treasures and found too many. Father stuffed one sack with scrolls, bemoaning the rest. Mother surveyed the vast collections of the Arthigones and settled on one thing: our family’s emblem—two hands with water falling through.

All the while, River’s Eye trembled. Elder trees stamped their immense feet. Winding toes dug into the tower’s foundation, shifting it sideways. I gritted my teeth and kept to task, telling myself an Arthigone remains composed.

Once all was ready, my sisters and I waited, packs on backs and bags on shoulders, food crate nearby. Our parents deliberated—the next move would be critical. Stones dislodged from upper levels and tumbled down the stairs. We jumped clear.

When the door opens, we move fast, Dad cautioned. Skirt around the base, keep the trees to one side. Once we reach the back, we strike north to the boat. That will be the trickier part.

It all seemed tricky to me, but I held my tongue.

Mama issued further instructions: Maddie and Elli, carry the food. River, Rain, walk behind them, hands linked.

Walk briskly and cheerfully. Mother smiled. We will guard all directions. She paused, assessing our resolve. Let us stoke the fire.

She strode into the family room with the rest of us behind. The floor vibrated underfoot, massive roots drumming. We helped her feed in fuel while our other parents fashioned torches from chair legs. The swollen hearth raged red.

Girls, Mother said, wait in the entrance hall. Keep your packs on.

We did as told. Scraping sounds came from the family room—heavy items dragged across the tiles. A whoosh went up, loud enough to startle me. Our parents ran out with their torches lit. Behind them, piled furniture ignited.

River’s Eye rocked. A portion of the northern wall fell in. Wind rushed through the open space, fanning flames. Fire spread from the family room to the invaders.

Stay together! Remember your places! Dad opened the door and held out his torch.

Elli and I lifted our stores of food and followed at a trot. The heavy crate disrupted my balance, jarring my arm and shoulder.

Our family stayed close, chanting protection spells. Dad led us through a dense forest, using his torch to warn off obstacles. Trees slid from our path, radiating hostility. Mother walked to our right, her torch maintaining a safe boundary. Mama kept left, her hand against the tower wall, using the curve to guide us. Papa guarded the rear. Trees closed in behind him.

Dad thrust his torch at a stubborn sedgewellow. Branches slapped, knocking it from his hands. Roots rose and fell, stomping the fire out. Mother sprang forward, singeing leaves. The tree moved back. Dad took her torch and kept the lead, swinging it from side to side. Mama passed hers to Mother.

All around us, fury spread. Papa insisted we sing praises to the water, keeping our voices loud. The air grew warmer and smokier.

We’re nearing the north side, Mama announced.

Ahead, a section of forest burned, sending out acrid smoke. I put my free hand over my mouth and nose.

River’s Eye shook from foot to crown. Stones dropped, prompting haste. I glanced up. Part of its battlement had fallen, and portions of the walls, but the tower still stood. Fire frolicked in an upper window. Third floor. The holdings of the Arthigones.

Now for it! Dad shouted. He left the tower’s side and plunged in northeast.

A rain of debris hit. River’s Eye crumbled in dust and flame.

We sprinted ahead, dodging falling objects. Dad held his torch to an aggressive oak, setting it alight. Roots sprang up to grab our stores, knocking Elli and me back. Everyone halted while the twins helped us up. We pulled at the crate while our parents threatened with fire, but roots wound thicker around our food supply. The forest closed in, bringing despair.

As the last mages in Maldhonia, we would pay for the transgressions of thousands. Vines seized our torches. Light went out.

3

River, Rain, to me! Mother moved between them. They chanted together.

The Neldorlorum thundered.

Mama shouted. Take a deep breath!

A wall of water hit, sweeping me from my feet. Gentler currents lifted me above the flood. I opened my eyes to daylight and a new lake. My family floated amid a sunken forest. Our boat appeared, carried on a wave. We scrambled inside.

River and Rain sat in the bow, but they’d no need to pilot—water had control. The boat shot north, providing a bumpy ride back to the Neldorlorum’s proper channel. We rolled over dying trees. They sent out hatred with the last of their consciousness.

Once back in its track, the river altered our direction. Waves curled protectively around the boat and pushed us forward, holding steady against the normal watercourse.

"We’re going east?"

The Neldorlorum heeded our call. Papa gazed in pious rapture.

It’s taking us to the—River paused to pronounce the name correctly—People of the Code.

I am content to trust its judgment. The river delivered us this day. Mother nodded at the sodden lands behind. The forest’s remains stuck out at odd angles.

Steam had filled the valley, covering the tumbled leavings of home. Our mood turned heavy. We yet lived, but life was gone.

Fury had claimed the furnishings, art, and talismans. Wardrobes, linens, and all my childish comforts. Treasures and keepsakes. Libraries with their cupboards of scrolls. Tapestries depicting our ancestors’ glorious stories. The Arthigones’ carefully curated collection had turned to paste. Bits floated by.

Beside me, Dad trembled but let loose no sobs. He wiped his eyes, feigning confidence. Well, children, here we are—our family is still together. All praise to the water.

We nodded stoically, as true descendants of heroes. Dad’s steady voice recalled our noble destiny. Arthigones understood our importance in the larger story, our positions in the spiral. Papa sang river songs, urging gratitude and a loftier perspective.

Possessions collect us. But we are stronger.

Past our faithful tower, our country had been vibrant and civilized. Grand settlements on the riverbank had offered splendid holidays, with fine dining and accommodations nestled in the hills beyond. Well-maintained king’s roads had led along the river’s course, inland to the heart of the capital, and farther, to court. In better days.

It’s like the city never existed. Elli gazed in awe.

All the sturdy docks had been destroyed, their remains strewn about the river. Our boat leaped over debris like a frolicking lancan. Its bouncing made me sick. The twins set their will to steering around the rubble rather than over. Staggering ancients frowned down, blocking the sun, attended by lesser plants—fawning moss and vines. Forests ran south from the bank, as solid as when the world began. The Rey capital appeared primeval.

Nothing jumped out, no roots grabbed, yet the air vibrated with doom.

Happy fortune we ate a good breakfast, Papa said. There’ll be no foraging in the capital.

We agreed respectfully, but even Mother appeared morose watching the scraps of the Rey realm slip by.

The Wood has dug its roots in deep.

Will it ever give the land back, do you think? River asked.

I hold little hope, Dad answered. It serves as warning.

To whom? Humans were willfully oblivious, and every mage had gone.

Except for our cantankerous family.

In late afternoon, a green mass appeared. I recognized the shape of the former king’s port, built from white stone and magery. The harbor was claimed to be indestructible. This had proved true, after a fashion. It still stood underneath the writhing broad-leafed ivy.

The last time we visited court, Mother said, we left our boat here at King’s Port and hiked through the market center. Do you recall, Bea?

I do. That was a cheerful day. So many colorful stalls and wares. I found fabric for new curtains—she paused, and I recalled their pattern, now burned—and later, at the autumn festival, we picked up something else. Her eyes settled playfully on Papa.

None of us dared stop at King’s Port today. Those vines would surely strangle us.

Was that when the three of you met? Rain slid closer to Mother, sensing a rare story opportunity. On your last visit to court?

"Yes. Bea and I had