Alter Kindwood's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

They came out of the pines together. Gorbov walked first, hands raised, calling ahead in his flat island voice. Alter followed at ten steps, the silver circlet warm between his antlers, the teal stone catching sun. Bows lifted along the palisade. Red banners with their stitched heads shifted in the wind. No arrow flew yet. The crown was doing its small work. A voice on the wall shouted for them to stop at the gate line. Gorbov stopped. Alter stopped. The gate creaked open a hand's width. A blacksmith stepped out, thick arms bare, a mohawk the color of his skin, a braided beard laid over a round belly. He carried a hammer, not a bow. Behind him, six spears leveled at Alter's chest. "He says a thing wearing his face comes at dusk," Gorbov said. "He says close the gates." The blacksmith spat. "He says. A skull with fire in it says." He looked at Alter. "You brought our children back this morning. In a stone boat." "Yes," Alter said. "Prove it was you. Not a trick to open our gates at sundown." Alter had no proof. He had no token from the children, no words only they would know. He had brought them in silence and left in silence. The spears shifted. The light on the ridge was already tilting. He knelt in the dirt. He set both hands flat on the ground between him and the gate. He thought of the stone bird, of the owl-boat on the bank. He asked the wood to come. The ground moved. Branches pushed up through the grass at the gate line, thin at first, then thick, twisting into each other. They wove as they grew, layer over layer, a fence of living wood rising in a curve across the open gate. In four breaths it stood taller than the blacksmith. The spears drew back. Someone on the wall swore. "Close your gate behind this," Alter said. "When the light touches the pines, do not open it for anything with my face. Not for my voice. Not for a child's voice. Nothing crosses this wood until dawn." The blacksmith laid a hand on the woven branches. He pushed. It held. He looked at Alter a long moment. "Get back in the trees," he said. "If you're still standing there when the sun drops, my men will shoot you anyway." Gorbov stepped through a gap that closed behind him. The main gate slammed. Bars fell into place. Along the wall, bows turned outward now, not down. Alter walked back up the ridge. The circlet cooled against his bone. He had bought them the night. He had also told the Hollow Man exactly which wall to test, and left himself outside it, alone, wearing a crown that shone.