Twenty Nine: The Untree

The pavilion for wounded soldiers was located on the west side of camp.As I approached, the soldiers sitting outside looked up. One of the men jumped to his feet, his expression hard.

“Stop right there,” he said. “You won’t get any further. Ser Connel has commanded us to stand guard.”

I stopped in front of him and stared him down.

“I’m not here for York,” I said. “In fact I wish him no further harm. I’m here to speak with Ser Connel.”

The soldier eyed me dubiously, gaze snagging at my empty waist. I was unarmed and unarmored and that seemed to give him pause.

"What do you want with him?" he asked.

I tilted my head.

"That is between me and Ser Connel."

One of the others scoffed.

“Go and warn him,” he said to the soldier that had stood. The man kept his eyes on me and I noticed his hand on the knife at his belt.

“Ser William will Wait here,” he said.

I stood in the morning light, listening to the sounds of birds and bog insects as the sun rose. The soldiers watched me with a new kind of wariness - that of prey noting the presence of a predator.

They were not the only ones. My presence here had caught the attention of more than one of the men at arms nearby. Soldiers began to talk amongst themselves, some even poking heads out of their tents to get a better look.

I ignored all this and waited with hands clasped behind my back. At last the soldier returned.

“You have ten minutes, Blackbriar.” Said the voice from inside the pavilion.

Ser Connel himself was standing at the side of a cot in which a man lay. His arm, face, and hand were heavily bandaged and his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep.

York looked somehow worse than when I'd left him. The entire right side of his body was bruised, and his face was crusted with dried blood.

“The healers did what they could," said Ser Connel. "But he’ll need to sleep it off. Even then We don’t know if he’ll recover full use of his right arm.”

Ser Connel gazed down at the sleeping form of York, his eyes sad.

“You’re related,” I said. It was more a statement than a question and Ser Connel’s back stiffened. I waited for him to deny my words, but he didn't. At last he sighed.

“My late sister's son,” he said. "And her last legacy in this world. What a waste."

His eyes were distant, glassy.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

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“I don't need your apologies, Blackbriar. My sister is long gone, and York is...what he is. He isn’t a good man, not by any stretch of the imagination. But he’s her blood.”

He sighed then, shoulders slumping in a rattle of plate. His eyes were bloodshot and I realized that he must have stayed at York’s side all night.

“I want to know why,” he said finally. “You could have killed him - should have some would say. Why didn’t you?”

I stood in silence for a moment, watching York’s chest rise and fall.

“We are not enemies, Ser Connel. And I wouldn’t have us be rivals - not if there was an alternative. There are enough things in this world that want to kill us without us turning on each other.”

Ser Connel grunted, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

“The Optimism of the Young. How I wish things were that simple."

“Maybe,” I turned to face him. “I’m young Ser Connel, and I recognize that I have much to learn. But I know what it’s like to lose men… to lose friends to this war. I need allies, not enemies.”

Ser Connel turned to me then. His mouth opened like he might say something, before falling closed again. He blinked several times.

“We could never be friends, Ser William,” he said. “But as for allies…. That remains to be seen.”

I nodded, knowing that was the best compromise I could expect. I let the silence stretch for a few minutes before I asked the question I had come to ask.

“What will you do with him?”

The Knight pulled off a gauntlet with a clink of plates. He rubbed at his face with his hand, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as if seeking answers.

“That I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s clear to me that York is not suited for Army life. I’ve put in the appropriate paperwork with Lord Blackthorne and given his injury, it’s likely he’ll be discharged. From there it will be up to him."

He lifted his helmet from where it sat on a nearby chair and tucked it beneath his armor.

“Your message has been received, Ser William. For now, I have to ask that you give my men space. York was not well-liked among the company, but he was one of ours nonetheless. What transpired in the circle was… regrettable. But,”

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He hesitated for a moment then sighed.

“It was likely necessary. Had he been any other man I would have held the whip myself. But they say that blood blinds you."

His eye grew distant for a moment. Then he shook himself.

“Take your leave Blackbriar. If we meet again, let it be on the field of battle.”

***

The Army moved at a snail's pace.

Men and horses rode no more than three wide, unable or unwilling to risk the bog’s more treacherous terrain. The deeper we went, the more dense the foliage became. The smell of stagnant water and the buzz of flies was an ever-present curse.

My boot stuck fast in the mud beside the trail. I grunted in annoyance as I had to stop and lean back to pull at it. It came free with a squelch and I nearly toppled backwards.

“How much longer until we’re out of this Throne forsaken swamp?” Grumbled Kato, as he pried his own boot of the quagmire.

Gills wiped the sweat from beneath his helmet before jamming it back on.

“Another day, maybe two if we keep having to stop to get the supply wagons unstuck.”

“We’ll have to keep up the pace,” I said. “I can’t see Lord Blackthorne ordering us to halt and make camp in a place like this. Too many unknowns around and the terrain is less than ideal for a defense."

"And then there are the rumors," said Draxus, grabbing a hold of Jorgen as he slid precariously in the mud.

“What rumors?” Kato glanced between Draxus and I.

I raised a brow.

“Have you been sleeping under a rock these past few days? There have been reports from every patrol that’s returned. It's the talk of the camp.

They say that at night there are things in the bog that intentionally lead men astray in the hopes of confusing them. We've already lost more than one soldier during patrol."

“Lost them?" Kato looked incredulous. "How do you lose an entire man?"

Jorgen had managed to recover himself and came to stand beside us.

"My gran used to tell stories about the swamps," he said "tales of men entering and never coming out again. They say that in some places the mud is so thick it can swallow a horse hole."

"Your Gran sounds a bit odd," said Kato.

Jorgen lowered his voice.

"Ser William, Do you think that it could have something to do with the Occult?”

I glanced around us, making sure no one else had overheard.

“Maybe," I confessed. "When I spoke to the Inquisitor she said something about it being a warning. The question is, a warning of what?”

Draxus shivered.

“Whatever it is, I’d rather not know.”

A man was making his way back down the column of soldiers. He was young and dressed in the bright livery of the House of Basset. He passed a squad of men from the 3rd and ended up having to stop to wait for them to pass.

"Don't look now," said Kato. "But I think the lad's here for you."

The young boy bounced to a stop in front of me, and bowed.

“I’ve been asked to fetch Ser William,” he said, breathlessly. His eyes slid to me, and then nervously away.

“Lord Dacon requests your presence. He says there is something you need to see.”

With that ominous message, he bowed again and started his run back towards the front of the line.

“I Wish I had his youthful energy,” mutterd Gills. “Would be useful in more ways than one.”

“Oh I dunno, but by the shaking of Vera’s tent each night I’d say you’re doing just-“

Gills slapped Kato in the back of the head and made the younger man grin.

“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I was just joking boss man.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t wait up,” I said. “Whatever it is, it’s unlikely to be good news."

I collected Hade and Jorgen and then began my way forward trek through the line. Soldiers turned to look as we passed. Some refused to move out of the way, leaving us to slog through the edge of the water to get around them.

The line of men snaked far into the distance. I could see the bristling spear points and blue and gold banners of the Basset Household long before we reached them. At a small divet in the road, the female Knight stood beside her horse. She was leading the beast through a thick quagmire of mud on foot.

At our approach, she glanced up and dipped her head to me.

“Ser William,” she said. “Lord Dacon waits for you by the Untree.”

“The Untree?” I asked.

The Knight nodded serenely.

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

As I continued down the row of House Basset soldiers, the shadow of a large tree came into view. It was dark, its surface nearly black in the dim light. Gnarled leafless branches twisted up towards the sky like the spines of some great beast. The trunk was wide enough to conceal a horse, but it was the bark that made me look twice.

At first, the texture seemed rough and uneven. But when I looked closer I saw the subtle shapes of creatures in the wood. Bones, I realized as I studied them closer. The bark had been absorbing bones of all shapes and sizes. They had integrated into the bark as if melded there by some unseen force.

My skin prickled.

Beside me Jorgen sucked in a breath as his eyes fell on a skull, half buried in one of the roots. It looked human. I tore my eyes away and stepped forward.

“Lord Dacon,” I said, bowing. The Lord turned to me, sweeping a glove through his fair hair. He was troubled, I could see it in the set of his shoulders. But he kept his tone light as he greeted me.

“Ser William,” he said. “My apologies for summoning you so unexpectedly. I’m afraid I find myself in need of your help yet again,” He laughed, but the sound was forced.

His household guards stood at attention beside him, but even they seemed tense. One of the men kept glancing down, his face pale.

“My Lord?” I asked. Lord Dacon pointed towards a small divet in the ground between a copse of thick dark roots. After a moment I stepped forward to look.

Bodies. Tens of them, no, dozens of them, lay at the base of the tree among the gnarled roots. Arms stuck out at odd angles. I could see the bleached white of bones poking through the bark. They seemed fused into the roots as if the Untree was consuming the bodies of the dead.

I took a startled step back.

“What is this?” I asked, and I heard the horror in my own voice. Lord Dacon’s face was grim.

“They were brought here,” he said. “Brought to the Untree, in order to feed it.”

“Brought here?” I swallowed. “By what or who?"

Dacon nodded.

“That is the question.” He gestured to the tree.

“Look closer,” he said. “Some of the bodies are old, maybe weeks or even months old. They could be villagers or travelers who had attempted to pass through the bog and met their grisly end. But some of them are fresh.”

“The disappearing men,” I breathed, as I studied the corpses. Flies buzzed around the mass of flesh and bone.

“They all ended up here? But how? What’s taking them and…depositing them here? Is it the tree itself?”

Dacon shook his head.

Untree’s are foul things but they aren’t inherently evil. What’s more, they don’t possess the ability or magic necessary to lure unsuspecting soldiers to their doom. No, this is the work of something with much more agency."

“My Lord,” said Hade from beside me. “We should inform Lord Blackthorne at once. If this has anything to do with.. with what the 3rd encountered before..." his voice trailed off.

Dacon let out a breath and rubbed at his temples.

“Lord Blackthorne has his hands full with the utility and organization of the march. He’s asked me to assist him in this matter. I’m to investigate, the source of this disturbance and, with my company, eradicate it. I could think of no better man to have at my side.”

I bowed my head.

“You honor me.”

“Perhaps. Gather your men and I will meet you further down the line.” He glanced overhead, eyes scanning the sky through the dark branches.

“We’ll need to move quickly if we don’t want to get caught out in the bog at night. With so many men we won't have the element of surprise, but we'll have the advantage of numbers."

Dacon watched me walk away. I turned to Hade, whose face was grim.

“A man-eating tree,” he muttered. “I thought I’d seen it all.”

“Unfortunately, what we’ve seen likely only cracks the surface.”

I pulled off my helmet to mop at the sweat on my face.

"Gather Kato and Draxus," I said. "I'll need them on this."

Hade glanced at me. "And where will you go, Ser?"

I placed my helmet back on my head, sliding it into place.

"To make a plan."