Chapter Four

Breath burned through Anise's stone-dry throat. Bright, unmerciful sunlight pierced her eyelids. She opened her eyes to see the ground far above her, spinning, and the trees reaching down and past her, stabbing their trunks into the sky and weaving a roof of leaves far below. She screamed. Birds fluttered their wings and scattered at the noise, crying out at the disturbance. Sounds from an invisible multitude of hidden creatures crashed in a never-ending roar over her ears, from all directions. Green scents invaded her nostrils, even the wet smell of the soil and the dry bark of the trees. And underneath it all beat the insistent throb resonating in her spine.

Anise jerked against the bindings at her wrists and ankles, sending herself swinging wildly as she dangled far beneath the tall branch holding her rope. She focused on her wrists, trying to slip her hands out of the thin cord, but they were tied tightly, and the more she struggled, the tighter they became. The ground seemed very, very far away. Even if she could somehow dislodge the rope hanging her by the ankles, the fall would be dangerous.

Anise recognized the thought pressing at the back of her mind, telling her that all of this was preposterous--that she should be dead--but she chose to ignore it. She could not rationalize it, nor would she question it. All she could hope to do was free herself. Somehow, the woodsore had not taken her yet. If she did not act quickly, she thought, that would not remain true. The pain was insistent, but not as bad as she remembered. She wondered if she had become accustomed to it already. Still the tingling, prickly throbbing continued at the base of her neck.

The forest was louder now than it was before. Everywhere, there was the voice of some animal, or the crush of small footsteps over leaves. She did not know how long she had been unconscious, but she felt that it was not yet midday. Her entire body felt stiff and sore, and her head inverted body pounded her head with blood. She tried to wiggle her toes, but found she could hardly feel her feet at all. Again, she tried to free her hands, stretching her fingers feel any piece of a knot to work loose, but again she failed. The knot at her wrist was just barely out of her reach. Anise looked closely at the branch supporting her. The rope attached to her ankles rose up at least ten feet to the middle of a large branch, then angled down over it toward the ground out of sight, presumably tied to something else. The rope itself was not secured to the branch, only set across the top of it.

Anise bent her legs and pulled her chest up. She thought if she could get her wrists past her waist, she might be able to reach up, take hold of the rope, and climb it. Although the rope at her wrists also looped around her arms and waist, holding her hands close against her body, this outer loop felt looser, and she thought it might not hold her arms in place. She had barely moved when her strength gave out, and she sank back to her original position. She tried again, grunting with the strain as she pushed her hands down, but her arms would not pass over her waist; the rope did not allow enough space between her wrists.

Anise let out a long, defeated breath. She wished she hadn't woken up. It would have been better to die in her sleep, she thought, than to reawaken with nothing to do but await her death. The woodsore would still take her. She had to free herself before that happened, or before the Naephra found her again.

She examined her surroundings as the rope twisted slowly. All she saw were trees--great thick trunks in every direction, the closest ones six or seven feet away from where she hung, spiked intermittently with clusters of their namesake thorns, each as long and thick as a finger. Anise looked again at the ground, and immediately felt dizzy. Looking up at her feet was no better; above, the trees swirled, dancing around her in slow circles. She had to get down, and to do that, she would have to free her hands.

Taking another look at a cluster of thorns, she wondered how strong they were. How sharp they were. She had no other tools available. They would have to work.

Anise shifted her torso forward, then back, then repeated, until she started to swing from her rope. She twisted her head, trying to keep aware of how close she was getting to the trees, but as she swung the rope began to twist faster, making it difficult to see. She heaved her torso with each swing, gaining more distance and more speed each time, bringing the surrounding trees and their thorns closer and closer. She would have to take hold of one of the trunks, avoiding the thorns, but not by too much. As she came closer to one, she pulled her head back to avoid a cluster of thorns. As the rope swung her backwards again, she pulled her entire torso in, both to keep from hitting more unseen thorns that might be behind her, and to propel her farther ahead on the next upswing. The rope twisted as she went, turning her slightly away from the trunk ahead. She twisted herself, too, so that she came up beside the trunk, her hands reaching out as far as she could to grasp it. At the top of her swing, when her movement was slowest, she arched her back and felt the bark under her fingertips, and she dug her fingernails into the wood.

The strain was immense. She had swung out far to reach the tree, and now her body was pulling her away from it, with only the ridges in the bark and the slight curve of the trunk to aid her grip. She shifted her left hand, searching for a knot in the wood, or anything else to grab hold of. Her fingertip felt something protruding away from the trunk, and then she felt a stabbing pain as a thorn pierced the side of her palm.

Anise cried out at the pain, but she did not pull her hand back, instead holding herself up by pressing her right hand against the side of the thorn at its base. Once her other hand was in place, she slowly pulled her palm away from the thorn, feeling the wetness of her blood against her skin as it left her. It had pierced her deep, between her thumb and forefinger. She knew her grip would not last much longer, so she worked quickly, feeling for the base of the thorn with her free hand and using all the force she had in her weakened fingers to break it off of the trunk. The thorn was long and thin, but the wood was strong. It was not as brittle as the tree bark. Her fingers hurt from pressing so hard, and her arm burned from the strain of holding her weight against the tree. She heard the thorn snap below her fingers, and she let go of the tree, the rope pulling her away again.

For a moment she just let herself swing back and forth, letting the pain pass. She kept her eyes closed, trying to keep the dizziness at bay while the rope she hung from untwisted itself. Eventually, her swinging slowed to a stop. Then, careful to keep her grip on the thorn, she angled the long spike of wood toward the knot at her wrist. If she twisted her neck as far as she could and pulled her arms out to the side, Anise could barely see the knot, and she worked the tip of the thorn into a loop of cord. Even though the thorn was strong, she knew its tip would be weaker, so she worked gently at first, using it to pry at the rope.

"Yes," she whispered to herself when the rope started to give. The loop she had been working on came out, but her wrists were still bound tightly. She felt around with the tip of the thorn again, searching for another part of the knot, and found another gap. She pried the cords apart, and this time she felt the loosening at her wrists. Anise pulled her hands apart and the cord fell away, and she easily untied the rope holding her arms to her body. It felt wonderful to stretch her arms in front of her. The thorn, which she still held in her fingers, was long and black, dipped with her red blood at the tip. She threw it away. Her hand still hurt where it had stuck her, and blood trickled from the hole in her skin.

The rope leading up to the branch above seemed very long to climb now, but Anise considered that better than falling to the ground, which looked to be the same distance, if not farther. She pulled herself up and grabbed the rope with both hands, and winced in pain. The rough cord pressed against the wound in her left hand when she gripped it. Holding the rope would be difficult. She let go and held herself up with her other hand. It felt good to take some pressure off of her ankles. She tried to wiggle her toes again, but could only move them together, not individually.

The rope tied to each ankle separately, and tightly enough to keep her from slipping out of her boots. Anise started trying to untie the knots, but wondered if it would be safer to keep them tied, to keep her from falling all the way to the ground in case she lost her grip while climbing. She decided to untie them, since it would give her legs more freedom of movement. She would need to grip the rope tightly between her heels as she climbed, which would be much easier without anything between them. But holding the rope with her right hand, Anise quickly learned that this idea would not work. Already she felt her grip beginning to loosen. She wondered if she would be able to climb the rest of the way. And the higher she climbed, the farther she would fall, should she let go.

Anise let herself hang again while she recovered her strength. She tilted her neck down to look at the forest floor again. Like the branch above, it seemed even farther away now. But she knew what she had to do. She found a fray in the hem of her shirt, and used her teeth to rip the fabric. She tore a long strip out of the material and wrapped it tightly around her palm, then tied it. Blood from the wound soaked into the fabric, spreading out in a dark stain.

Once again she pulled herself up and quickly set to work untying the knots around her boots. With the full use of her hand, it took hardly any time to finish the first knot, and her left leg came free of the rope, leaving her hanging by only her right hand and foot. It wasn't much higher than jumping from the wall of the Academy, she thought to herself. There had been no other options then, and there were none now. She untucked each loop of the remaining knot, but after the first two crosses, the rope started to unravel. Her foot slipped, she lost her grip on the rope, and she fell.

Anise closed her eyes. She waved her arms, trying for balance that she had no hope of attaining. All she thought as her body dropped through the air was how very bad it would be to land on her head.

And then she was still. Anise opened her eyes to see a sky of leaves and branches above. She did not know how she had landed, only that everything hurt and that she was alive. She was scared to move. She knew that if something was wrong, it would be very apparent when she moved. Then she realized she could not breathe. Whatever the fall had done, it had also pushed all the breath out of her chest. She waited, counting each involuntary blink of her eyes and each heave of her chest until the air gradually came back, and she wheezed it out, and in and out again.

With great care, Anise tested her feet, her fingers, her hands, her legs, and her arms. She felt very little except for the dull but loud thudding pain everywhere, added to the pulsing throb in her neck. The forest floor, it seemed, had been softer than she had hoped. She slid her arms back to push herself up with her elbows, then gave up and fell onto her back again. Her arms were stiff and uncooperative. She pushed again, and slowly, with teeth gritted, sat upright.

A spurt of warm, wet air flashed against Anise's cheek. She turned to see the large, hairy snout and jaw of a great beast finger-lengths away from her face, two tusks each as long as her arm protruding up from its lower lip. The tiny ears at the top of its head flicked back and forth above its small black eyes. Its pungent breath scorched her nostrils, and as she inhaled it into her lungs her mind managed to coagulate a single idea amid the cacophony of careening sensations around her: run.

Anise rolled onto her stomach, away from the animal, pushed up with her arms, and kicked off a running stride on the springy forest bed, ending with her second step as her legs gave out underneath her and she crashed into the brush again. Anger at her own weakness overshadowed her fear, and she forced herself up again. This time her legs and feet obeyed, and she sprinted, weaving between trees and avoiding the thicker patches of underbrush as much as possible. She ran down across a creek bed and up the other side, around mossy boulders as big as grain carts.

She glanced behind her and saw only trees. There was no sound of the animal crashing through in pursuit. Anise knew she had to keep going, but her breath was gone again and her legs threatened to give at every step. She came down behind a large tree and pushed her back up against it and just breathed, quietly, straining to listen. Noise reverberated everywhere, and everything was louder than it should be. The sounds pummeled her ears until she felt them inside her head and they mixed with the pulsing sensation under her skin, faster than her heartbeat and pricking like tiny needles up and down her spine, cresting at the base of her neck. She wished she could stop listening, but covering her ears with her hands only distorted the sound.

She peeked around the tree trunk. The creature, whatever it was, had either lost her trail or lost interest. Although she had only seen a glimpse of it, she could tell that it was frighteningly huge--too large to be anything but a predator. Larger than a slitherback. She wondered if it ate slitherbacks. But also too large, possibly, to follow her through the narrow trees and out of the clearing where she had landed.

Anise tried to use this respite to come to terms with her situation, but she couldn't think normally. The same thoughts kept playing over and over in her head, one leading into the other: "I'm in the Thornwood, alive somehow, trapped, lost, in the Thornwood, but alive." The constant noise invaded her mind, making larger thoughts impossible, but in amongst the bird calls, whooshing leaves, and insect chirping she noticed a new sound. It was subtle, and rhythmic, and she felt each beat of it under her skin, like standing in a ringing bell tower, even though it was not nearly as loud. The hairs on her arms and neck stood up. The sensation was stranger than anything she had ever felt. And it was growing louder. Closer. And faster.

She ran again. She focused on the pattern driven into her mind. It came from behind her, slightly to her left, then to her right. Like quick footsteps on the inside of her head, merging with the throbbing in her neck into a steady pulse. Anise wanted to stop running and collapse onto the wet ground and lie still. She didn't even know which way to go. She could be getting closer to the edge of the forest, or she could be going deeper within it. All she could do was keep moving. But the faster she ran, the closer the presence became with its pulsing signal, drowning out her other senses. Panic reverberated amongst her thoughts, with nowhere to dissipate. She felt violated by this strange presence, like nothing she had ever felt before.

The throbbing increased, and whatever was causing it was very close. She wouldn't let herself turn around to look, but beneath the buzz and crash of everything else, she heard branches snapping behind her. A shroud of leaves burst. Footsteps. The surging fear whipped Anise's mind to blistering speed. She realized that her pursuer could only be a Naephra. She could not keep running forever. She would have to fight, and energy spent running would be wasted. Already she was slowing down.

The Naephra did not call out to her, but the pulse was there, strong and close. Directly behind her now. Anise ducked and skidded against the mossy ground, turning her body to the side as she came to a stop. She looked up and saw the shape of her pursuer, mere steps behind her, and crouched just as they collided. The Naephra could not react in time, and fell over Anise's body, the force of the impact bringing her down as well.

On her back again, staring up at the trees, Anise realized that she was now no better off than she had been hanging from the tree. She urged herself to get up, but her body was slow. The Naephra was faster, already standing before her, unfazed. Anise recognized her--the same Naephra who had hung her from the tree to die.

"You," Anise said, as she pulled herself to her feet. And despite the pain and weariness filling her body, and her utter lack of hope to survive, she recognized the absurdity of escaping certain death, only to be caught again by the very same one who had condemned her. And she laughed. It felt good to laugh.

The Naephran woman did not react, and Anise's laughter died off.

"Next time," Anise said. "Could you leave me a bit closer to the ground? That fall really hurt."

The woman laughed, loud and short, and then smiled. It was not a cruel laugh, but genuine, although Anise had never heard a Naephra laugh before, and so had difficulty judging its sincerity.

"I like this!" the woman said. "Yes, we will not hang you again, kavi. To do the same thing again would be boring." The woman's voice was smooth and even. She spoke Saeran better than she had any need to, Anise thought.

"I suppose it would," Anise said. "What will you do then?" She was surprised by the Naephra's reaction, and frightened by it as well. She knew that the woman could kill her at any time with just a twitch of her hand. Why would she waste time speaking? Toying with her? That her life was little more than a passing amusement for this person now made any attempt to escape even more futile.

"I don't know. What would you like to do?"

"What would I like to do?"

"Yes," the Naephra said.

"Well, I'd like to go home, if that's fine with you," Anise said.

"Then do so. But you would deny my hospitality," the woman said.

"I think I've seen enough of that." Anise stepped backward, slowly, away from the Naephra. She did not understand what this person wanted from her. Their confusing exchange of words did not seem amusing enough to justify keeping her alive. The Naephra still smiled, but it pressed hard upon her face. Anise began to walk more quickly, still expecting a deathblow at any moment, and kept her eyes locked to her pursuer, who remained still.

"You must stay. We only just met," the woman said.

"I'm sure your friends think you're charming, whoever you are, but I doubt you would find me very interesting."

"Ah, I do. Very interesting."

"I don't have time for this. If you're going to do something to me, tie me up again, or kill me, please get on with it. But if you really will let me go--"

"That is the wrong direction."

"We'll see," Anise said.

"I could be convinced to show you the way," the Naephra said.

"You kill my friends, tie me up, leave me for dead, chase me down again, then you not only let me go, but show me the way out?" Anise asked. "Why would I ever believe you?"

"You waste time arguing with me while you could be on your way to freedom. If I wanted you dead, would we still be speaking?"

"But you do want me dead," Anise said. "Me and my friend. Well you got him, and now you've got me, so I don't understand why you're just toying with me. Go on with it! Or why haven't you?"

"Do you know how long you have been here?" the Naephra asked.

"Too long."

The woman laughed again. "Too long. You are right. Two days too long."

"Two days?"

"Yes."

Anise could not believe that. Two days was longer than anyone could survive in the Thornwood. The Naephra was still toying with her.

"We hung you up two days ago. I came back yesterday and you were dead. Today, you are not. That is why I have not killed you."

"You're lying," Anise said.

"Why would I lie to you about such things? What would I gain? You are right--I did want you dead. I did kill someone. But you are someone else, kavi."

"I'm not any different. I don't feel any different."

"Yes you do. You smell different. And this." The woman paused, and Anise felt the rush of vibration hurtling up her spine, setting off the same tingle in the back of her neck. The sensation ended, the pounding patterns replaced with the whisper of the leaves. "You felt that?"

"What do you want from me, you rot-walker?" Anise yelled. The pain still echoed fresh in her head. But even worse than the pain was the distinct feeling that something was wrong with her. More than just different, something was not right. And this Naephra seemed to know what it was.

"What is your favorite food?"

"What did you say?" Anise asked.

"It's an easy question, woman. I don't get to speak to humans very often. You are human, are you not?"

"Of course I'm human," she shouted.

"Whatever thing that you are, I propose this: answer my questions, and I will show you the way out of the forest."

"I'm not answering anything," Anise said. The throbbing started again in her back and made her skin prickle all over her body. The pounding rhythm burned itself into her brain, each blast stronger than the one before. The suddenness of it made her scream. Then it ended.

"Do you agree now?" the Naephra asked.

Anise did not want to agree. She did not want to do anything with this woman. All she wanted was to leave this place. And although that was exactly what the Naephra offered, Anise knew that any interaction between them could not possibly go well for her. The woman was hiding something, she was sure of that. But Anise did not know what else she could do. She could not run, had no hope of fighting, and if she did not escape soon, she would not escape at all. She would play along, she decided. She had to.

And perhaps, she wondered, the woman was telling the truth.

"What's your name?" Anise asked.

"Not rot-walker," the Naephra answered. "That is a very rude name."

"Then tell me your real name."

The Naephra sighed and closed her eyes. "I should have known that speaking with humans would be maddening. Father, why did I learn their language? Tell me now: what is your most favorite thing to eat?"

Anise remembered once when a traveler came to the Academy to rest on his journey. Anise had helped him by carrying his heavy sack and showing him to a cot. In thanks, the man had given her a rare citrus fruit, found only near the ocean, far to the south. Its flesh was a deep red in color, and when she bit it she felt a spray of juice mist her cheek. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

"Carrot soup," she answered. The lie came easily, although she wasn't quite sure why she said it. She didn't like carrot soup especially, and wasn't sure anyone could have carrot soup as their favorite dish. But somehow, lying to the Naephra made her feel secure.

"I like carrots too, but I do not know what soup is. Follow me." The woman trotted off between two trees and Anise hurried after. The trees stood farther apart here, and their trunks were wider. "My name is Jarko," she continued. "Your name is Anise. I remember that. Where did you come from, Anise?" the Naephra asked.

Anise wasn't sure how to answer that. Her father and his family were from Spinnet, a small city almost beyond the realm of Laenguir. She herself had never lived in one place more than a few weeks as a child, until Fellis, her father, had forced her to join the Academy.

"The Academy," she said.

"I know that, kavi. Instead I should say, who do you come from?"

"My parents?"

"Yes."

"My father was a merchant. I never knew my mother," Anise said. As they walked, the Naephra kept ahead of Anise, not even looking back at her. Everything about her was calm: her walk, her speech, even the way she sometimes touched the trunk of a tree with her fingertips as she passed it. She did not seem like a soldier with a prisoner. But this only made Anise more uneasy.

"Is your mother dead?"

"I said I never knew her!" Anise said.

"I apologize. I did not want to offend the human," the Naephra said. "Why did you come after us?"

Anise's stomach turned, but not from woodsore. She had not talked about her mother in years. Hearing this Naephra even mention her made her want to scream, but she kept walking in silence.

"I asked you a question, kavi."

"I wasn't trying to," Anise said. "I got on the horse and I rode. What does it matter?"

"You thought you deserved to live?" the woman asked.

"I didn't want to die. That's not the same thing. How much farther is it?"

The forest was still thick and dark, with creature voices filtering in all around. Anise still felt the throbbing, faintly, at the back of her neck--not overpowering like before, but still as insistent.

"Farther still," the Naephra answered. "Do you know why I came to find you, at the Academy?"

"You wanted to punish me," Anise said.

"I did not want to punish you. I wanted to kill you," she said. "From when I first sensed you in the forest, I did."

"And you knew what that would mean to people? They'll want blood now."

"Your people have always wanted blood. They have been unable to take it. That will not change. I wanted to kill you because I enjoy killing humans. But in this case, I am glad I failed." The Naephra turned to face her and smiled. "I know this must be difficult for you."

Anise did not know how to answer. "Jarko sounds like a man's name," she said.

"How long can a human survive in the forest?" the Naephra asked.

"Less than a day," Anise answered.

"Yes. Woodsore, you call it? What do you think of the throbbing at the back of your neck?"

Anise shivered. The sensations wracking her body were strange, without doubt. But strange things could happen in the forest. Was it a sign that the woodsore was overtaking her, she wondered, slowly settling in to rot her bones and blacken her skin? Or was it the Naephra herself causing it?

"If you're trying to scare me, know that I've felt much worse than a slight headache."

"Stop barking and think, kavi! How long have you been in the forest?"

"You already said, two days," Anise said.

"What was your mother's name?" Jarko asked. "Have you realized this yet?"

"What does my mother have to do with this? And where are we?" Lights glimmered in the distance between the trees. Like lanterns, flickering. Anise wondered if they had reached the edge of the Thornwood already, and the lights marked an Eastland settlement in the distance. But none were so close as to be visible from inside the wood, she knew. Fear clawed at her throat as she realized with absolute certainty that she was very far from the edge of the forest, and very near to the last place she would ever see. Between the branches and endless green ahead she began to distinguish the huge black trunks of the fortress trees, each one hundreds of feet in diameter, their wooden bulwarks stretching into the sky like the tough-skinned legs of immense giants.

"Welcome to Tamryod, Anise," the Naephra said. "As for your mother, let us say that I hope she died for a good reason."

The dense crowding of trees ended, replaced by vast open spaces between the great trees which rose like pillars from the root-covered ground to the roof of branches far above. At its base, the roots of each tree splayed out and tangled together, too tall to see over, dividing the forest floor into sections, and forming archways and paths, all leading to the great trees themselves. As Anise and Jarko left the closeness of the outer forest, she felt as if she had shrank in size, ducking through dug-out passages under the exposed roots, or climbing over them in carved steps. They passed other Naephra, tending sheep and goats and harvesting bright fruits and flowers from gardens that sprung up everywhere. They stared at her openly, and she did not look at them back. She kept her gaze upward, astounded by the sheer size of the wooden towers. Sunlight shone down in thin, slanted rays through the upper boughs.

Anise felt her fear changing, losing its hardness and shifting into anger, both at the Naephra who had tricked her, and at herself for being so easily taken along. The pounding in her head progressed into a thick buzzing at the base of her skull, reverberating through the length of her spine, different voices and signals all vying for her limited scope of sensation. She felt bombarded by the crowded noise, even though she knew the vibrations were separate from the sounds at her ears.

"Who are you? How did you know my mother was dead?" Anise asked.

"Questions are not for me--only for you," Jarko answered.

"I'm sick of this. You're pointless. I'm leaving now. If you wanted to kill me you would have done it already." Anise turned away from her and toward the outer forest, ready to make her own way back, when a heavy blow to her shoulder sent her falling onto her chest. Before she could get up a weight pressed down on her back. Jarko had pinned her to the ground, clasping Anise's arms to her side.

"You are my captive, do you remember?" she said.

"Tell me what you want from me, then."

The Naephra laughed. "I already told you what I want. I want you to--"

"Answer your questions," Anise said. She managed to push the woman off of her back, although she wasn't trying very hard to keep her down. "I know what you're trying to tell me. I should be dead by now. I understand that. But I'm not. I don't know why, so why ask me? You know something I don't."

"What is this that I know?" the woman asked, grinning.

"You won't kill me, and you won't let me leave. You must want something from me."

"You are wrong, kavi," she said. "I want nothing from you. With truth, I do not know what to do with you."

"Then let me go!" Anise felt a rhythm quicken in her spine, and she knew instinctively that it came from Jarko. When she saw the Naephra's arm move, Anise raised her own hand, intercepting what would have been a stiff blow to the face. She glimpsed the Naephra's eyes widen in surprise, but then felt the woman's knee crash into her chest, knocking her back and onto the ground.

"I apologize," Jarko said, as if nothing had happened. "Of course you cannot leave this place--it is ridiculous to suggest it. You will come with me. I can bind you, if that is necessary."

Anise shook her head. "Where?" she asked.

"Up," the Naephra said.

Anise and her host came to an opening in one of the largest trees, like a gaping mouth carved out of the thick trunk. Inside, a lamp-lit passage curved up and around the core of the tree. The walls were polished and smooth, and covered in ornate etchings--patterns of leaves and swirling waters and birds with wings outstretched. Statuettes emerged from the wood on each side in regular intervals--unknown Naephran figures, each holding a single candle. Their features were delicately carved, even down to the pupils in their eyes and the ridges on each knuckle. Windows were carved into the outer wall, and as they continued upward Anise saw the ground dropping farther away.

Jarko said nothing as they marched up the tunnel, always curving to the left around the core of the tree trunk. Anise took the silence with gratitude over the endless, taunting questions. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that she was still alive, despite everything, but her unanswered questions still pressed in from all sides. She did not know how she had survived for so long. She did not know how much longer she would be alive. The only thing that seemed certain was that she would never see anyone she knew again. She would never see her father again. Her survival was meaningless. She cursed herself for her weakness, thinking back over everything that had happened, searching for any time when she could have acted differently. If she had given herself up to the Naephra, she thought, then Belamire might not have had to die. If she had stayed with Alphus and kept away from the Thornwood, she would be at home now, at the Academy, completing some miserable training exercise or menial duty. She felt it strange that the idea appealed to her so much, but it was no comfort now.

The pain in her neck spiked again and she gasped at its sharpness. Jarko did not seem to notice, or she did not care. The throbbing was more intense now, worsening the higher they went. Every few steps it coalesced and buzzed unbearably at the base of her skull, then dissipated, only to return again. Anise felt her neck with her palm. Her skin was sensitive there, and pressing down on it only made the feelings worse.

There was no outside sound now--the inside of the great tree was serenely quiet, with only the dim padding of their footsteps to break the silence. But the throbbing in her body felt louder now than it had before, as if the sounds of everything in the forest were trapped inside her bones. She could still feel individual patterns underneath, like drumbeats, or broken footsteps. Not sound--not completely, at least--but something else. Even the soft but insistent thud, thud, thud she felt when she was running from the Naephra was still there, still pulsing. Anise knew that it came from the Naephra herself, somehow. She heard it, but could not hear it. It was inside her head, but it came from this woman.

The passage continued in its upward spiral until they came to a doorway carved into the outer trunk which led onto a wide platform of wooden slats, the size of a city street, fastened over a great bough jutting out from the trunk directly beneath them. As they walked out upon it, Anise immediately noticed that the sharpness of the throbbing in her neck went away once they exited the trunk, although the noise and the tingling still remained. She felt as if she were walking out into the sky--she had never dreamed anyone could walk so high above the ground. The ground was a sea of green and brown far below, with fields where animals grazed, divided by the exposed roots radiating outward from the great trees. Small houses sat along a snaking stream. But the height began to make her dizzy, and Anise kept her eyes straight ahead. Little rope rails were fashioned to the sides of the walkway, but she made sure to keep as far from the edges as possible. Ahead, the branch crossed over that of the next tree, and an open stairway led down to another walkway on that branch. Although she felt foolish for doing so, Anise did her best to hide her nervousness from Jarko. She knew that appearing to be fearless would probably not make the Naephra treat her differently, but she did not want to give her any more pleasure in watching her suffer.

A few Naephra strolled along the walkway, passing them as they went. Each one reacted in the same way when they saw Anise, she noticed: first, a look of utter confusion and disbelief, then they locked their gaze forward and moved on. Neither the strangers nor Anise Jarko spoke, but she sensed an authority in the Naephran woman--the others seemed to recognize her, and once they did, any questions they had were not answered, but silenced. Also strange was the subtle shift in the throbbing in Anise's neck as they went by, as the drumming up and down her spine briefly became more dense. There was an anxiousness in the new pattern, distinct from the strong, plodding rhythm which came from the woman. It faded as they moved away, shifting back to the familiar growling pulse.

"I must be imagining this," Anise thought. "How can I feel something like that?" She wished now that she had listened more closely to the stories of the old war veterans, about the Thornwood and the woodsore. To her, they had always seemed like bragging, designed to scare young cadets into respecting their elders and what they had gone through, when they affected the opposite reaction. Briefly, she thought of the stories she herself could tell, if she escaped, although she knew no one would ever believe her. And despite whatever bravado she could muster, she could never leave the cursed, despicable forest.

"Nearly there, Anise," Jarko said. The way she spoke her name made Anise feel uneasy. "Follow me closely." They came to the crossing of the two branches and took the steps down to the other walkway. The main bough was surrounded by smaller branches, and their thick coat of leaves blocked out their view of all but the opening carved into the trunk ahead. A gentle but insistent breeze pushed against Anise's back and filled the over-sized leaves with a rustling current. One leaf, blown free of its perch, flapped like an eagle's wing inches from her face and flew on. It was the size of a child's cloak, and as it passed in front of her she saw its ridged veins spreading out from the stem like creases in a map.

Inside the next tree was another passageway, similar to the one before, but instead of a slowly ramping walk, this was a tightly twisting staircase, carved entirely into the wood. No windows lit this passage--only the same carved candle bearers as before. The carvings etched into the walls were more ornate and dense, with tightly winding patterns of vines or serpents and interlocking claws and teeth.

Anise and Jarko stopped at a sealed door, leading into the center of the tree. The stairs continued higher, but this was as far as she would go. The door was black and unmarked except for a silver handle which flickered in the candlelight.

"Go inside," the Naephra said.

Anise's heartbeat quickened. The sharp pain in her neck returned, as if needles pricked her skin.

"What do you want from me?"

"No more questions Anise. Go inside."

"I won't until you answer me. Why am I still alive? How?"

Jarko pulled open the door and Anise's entire body tensed, as if she had been thrown into an icy river. The pain was instant and all-encompassing--the same tingling she had felt earlier now spread over every stretch of skin. Her limbs locked in place and her head pounded with the rapid pulse of a new invading rhythm.

"Two of my friends are dead because of you," Jarko said. "Remember that." Anise only saw a glimpse of darkness within before she fell forwards. The Naephra had moved quickly, pushing her through the doorway and onto the floor in a heap. She heard the door slam shut behind her as the darkness engulfed everything, with not even a sliver of light under the door.

Pain coursed through Anise's body, igniting every inch of her skin, starting in her feet and culminating at the base of her neck, always at her neck. It drove in waves, more powerful than the dull throbbing from out in the forest. But along with it came other sensations: inside the brutal, devastating pounding were countless other rhythms, all funneled into her limbs, and each distinct, yet outside her comprehension.

Anise breathed quickly and with difficulty. She found it difficult just to think, with each pulse pushing away her thoughts. "Is this what it's like to die from woodsore?" she wondered. "No, it has to be something else. I was fine before." With each wave her muscles along her back tensed in reflex, then loosened again. She pulled her knees up to her chest--a tiny ball in the darkness. Each time the waves reached the top of her spine, just above the base of her neck, the pain flowered for an instant, then dispersed, only to be replaced again.

"I didn't fall far," she thought. "The door must be right behind me still." She tried to move, to reach out her arm, to do anything, but any motion only made the pain worse. She knew she had to get up, but her body screamed against it. It wanted to give up. Her body was ready to die, but Anise was not.

"I will not die here," she whispered, and even the faint breath of her voice echoed in the black chamber, repeated back to her in a chorus. "There must be a way out," she thought. "Something I missed."

Anise thought of the woman. She had been almost friendly at first. Firm, but not malicious. And now she held her in torture. "Why?" she wondered. "What is this for?"

Anise thought of the tree, its roots splayed out over the ground and deep into the soil. Now she lay at the heart of the tree. She remembered how the sharp pains in her neck had intensified as she ascended higher. The impulses that seemed to come directly from her captor, or the man they passed on the walkway. Now there was no pattern, only the chaos of a million different voices and rhythms crowding over each other, cresting in wave after wave of sparkling agony. She wanted it to end. She wanted to wake up from what could only be a dream. "Why would she kill me now?" she wondered. "Now, after I had done what she asked. After I had already come this far. After I had survived in the Thornwood. Why wait until now?"

Anise felt herself losing strength. Concentrating her thoughts took effort, and each passing wave eroded her resolve. She had to get up. No one would come to aid her, she knew, and so if she lived it would be because of herself. She focused on the inner noise, despite the pain. Slowly, she stretched her limbs to lie flat on her back on the floor. Her muscles tightened with each pulse, wanting to draw back into her little ball, but she did not let them. Her breathing was ragged and quick, and the sound of each little gasp frightened her with its frailty. She forced herself to breathe slowly, lengthening and deepening each inhale and exhale, focusing on the air traveling in and out of her body. The wave of pressure faltered on its way up her body, and the crushing force at the top of her spine lessened for an instant.

"I will not die here," she repeated to herself. "This is a test, and I will not fail." Keeping her breaths steady and deep, Anise concentrated on the crest of each wave. She had to accept it--the pain, the sensation, the noise, and the chaos. She had to believe that it would not kill her. Her head swam, and she felt as if the room was spinning, although she knew that she lay absolutely still. The patterns of vibrations, although still painful, slowed even further, finally beginning to relent from their constant, crushing barrage. She felt their intricacy as the rhythms danced across her skin. As the pulses swept through her, they brought with them the sense of where they came from: up from the deep ground, through the roots, funneling into the great tree, shooting up the trunk and into the room with her, inside her, with everything along that path encoded within.

The rush of sudden and vast understanding washed over Anise, and she absorbed it all with a new hunger. She understood what she had felt all this time, since she had first stepped into the Thornwood: a force, powerful and hidden, racing everywhere. The ground, the trees, the animals, and the Naephra all resounded with it, inseparably, with every thought, every step, and every heartbeat. And she realized that the pain was gone.

It was time to get up. Anise leaned forward, her heart pounding and body swaying. She felt tired and sore, but not afraid. Still blinded by the complete darkness, she crept forward, arms outstretched. The floor curved upward under her feet, as if she were trapped in a giant bowl. When her fingers first touched the smooth, slightly warm wall, she smiled, and followed it as it curved around. There was a seam in the wood, running vertically up the wall from the floor. A door. Anise pushed against it. She rammed her shoulder against the wood and it gave way, sending her falling to the floor again. The dim light of the hallway exploded against her sensitive eyes. The throbbing had finally ceased, replaced with an overpowering quiet.

Jarko stood silhouetted against the light. "Follow me," she said.