Servant of the Bone Tree

Chapter 3: Berserker

For what felt like an age, Emrys was trapped in a prison of his own suffering. The pain rendered his senses useless. The world became a blur. He knew he had let go of the bone tree branch, but the voice was in him now. It echoed through his heads, speaking in a dark language that he didn’t understand, that sounded ancient and hallowed. It called to his spirit, summoning him, willing him to follow. At once, Emrys knew he had been a fool to think he could escape any part of this contract.

The bone tree had seen him now. He had become its servant, and it would be with him all his life.

In his minds eye, he saw thick green fog plastering open fields. He saw ancient men bearing the dragon flag of Cwm, sacrificing maidens in the grass. Letting them bleed out, and the ground drank of their blood. Fairies watched on, nodding their approval.

He knew he was seeing the past. He was seeing a time when Cwm and the Darkworld had been closer. He was reviving that ancient past. Those people of ancient Cwm were his kin. His bloodline. In him was the lineage of the ancient kings.

The pain spread throughout his body, and he felt himself contorting upon the ground. Again and again, he shook and thrust against the stone floor of the palace. He was bruising himself, beating his own body raw, but he couldn’t help it. He was convulsing, unable to control himself against the waves of agony that ran through his body, time and time again.

As though speaking from somewhere distant, Dara’s voice reached his ears. He could only just hear it over the sound of pumping blood.

“Your body is being racked with magic,” Dara said. “The only way for you to survive it, is to accept it. To stop resisting. Let the bone tree into your heart. Accept your fate.”

“But it feels wrong,” Emrys screamed.

“This is what you wanted, Emrys.”

It was what he wanted. He needed to remember that.

Instead of focusing on the visions in his mind, he conjured up a new vision. Gwern slapping his sister. Claiming his throne. Ruling Cwm in his stead, claiming to be the Chosen One, and using that title as an excuse to do anything he wanted.

The injustice made his blood boil. It made him sick with rage.

Slowly, the pain began to recede. He felt new energy flowing into his limbs and he stood. He opened his eyes.

It was as though he were viewing the bone palace through a veil of mist. Dara was just a silhouette. A shimmer of darkness in the light. The fairy looked so small now. So brittle. How had Emrys been frightened of him before? If he wanted to, Emrys was sure he could tear Dara apart with his hands.

“Calm yourself,” said Dara. “You’re in a blood rage now. Magic is coursing through your body, making you unnaturally strong. That same magic will affect your ability to maintain control. Like a beast, your instincts to attack and hunt have been whipped into overdrive.”

“I really want to hurt you.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then breathe.”

Emrys did. He breathed calmly and slowly, and he began to see through the haze. Dara wasn’t an enemy. He didn’t deserve to be hurt.

But if Gwern where there…Emrys knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He wouldn’t want to. Every muscle in his body had increased in mass. The club in his hands, which had felt heavy and clumsy before, now felt as light as a twig.

“This is incredible,” he said. “I’ve never known power like this.”

“Really? Well, this is just the beginning. There are more levels for you to achieve, should you wish to advance. The bone tree won’t let you yet, though. Not until you prove yourself capable of real control and mastery of your emotions in battle.

“Besides, you must also learn to use your strength sparingly. If you push yourself too far in combat, then you’re going to end up dead. And there’s another thing as well. That club you’re holding in your hands is part of the bone tree. It won’t break easy, but you have to hold onto it. Become separated from it, or if it gets destroyed, and you risk breaking your contract. The bone tree will kill you, instantly.”

“So, I have to hold onto this branch for the rest of my life?”

“You need to at least keep it near you. All that being said, shall we see what you can do with your new powers?”

“I think I need to know more about this risk. You never mentioned it before.”

But Dara wasn’t listening. In fact, he was charging forwards, his fists raised. He swung for Emrys’s head.

Emrys ducked out of the way, sensing the blow coming with his finely turned instincts. At once he felt a hunger grow inside him. A hunger for battle.

He swung the branch like a club, aiming for Dara’s torso. Dara moved. His club swung at nothing, cutting through air. It collided with the stone floor of the palace, cracking it.

Dara moved again, making out as though he were going to swing a fist. Emrys raised his club up to counter the attack. But at the last moment, Dara brought his fists back in, and launched a kick directly into Emrys’s head.

Emrys’s neck snapped back. He was in the haze again, and he swung with his club without thinking. Dara dodged again. He struck the stone floor. This time he didn’t just crack it, but left a crater, breaking through the stone to the earth below.

“You see how pain makes your strength increase?” said Dara. “That is the nature of the blood rage. The more you fight, the more combat potential you gain. Equally, however, the more difficult it will be to control yourself. That’s why practice is key. You will need to train a lot before you’re ready for a full battle.”

“I will face Gwern in the stone circle in just three short months.”

“Then we had better get to work.”

Emrys gritted his teeth. He hadn’t expected to spend so much time in the Dark World, but what choice did he have? Until he was able to use his new magic effectively, then he would have no chance of defending Angharad, and getting his revenge.

Hold tight, sister, he thought. They won’t kill you. They’d be fools to. I will come back for you.

There was one thing still troubling him. Something that had been on his mind ever since he first arrived in the Dark World.

“Why are you helping me?” he asked Dara.

“Because you’re amusing.”

“You wouldn’t be wasting time on me just for that. There has to be a reason.”

Dara smirked again. “Because of who your mother was. But that’s all I’m going to say about that for now. I don’t want you getting distracted.”

“That’s a hell of a thing for to try and forget about.”

“It will take control, yes. But control is exactly what I’m going to teach you.”

#

Morgan barked at his wife to set a fire. He fetched himself a large cup of ale, and settled down upon the furs that lined his home. He drained the ale in one gulp, barely tasting it. It was bitter, poor-quality stuff. But he wasn’t drinking because he was thirsty. He was drinking to calm his mind.

Tomorrow, they were going to officially announce to the City of the Sun their intention to instill Gwern as the true heir. The news would spread quickly to the rest of Cwm. He had no idea how people would react. There would certainly be anger from those who were loyal to King Ryland. But would it stop at anger, or could it turn into full blown rebellion?

They still didn’t know where Emrys was. The guard had checked on him a few hours after the arrest, and the boy was nowhere to be seen in the mausoleum. His sister had been there, but she swore she didn’t know a thing. She said that he had simply vanished, like spirits had claimed him.

It was nonsense, of course. But the girl remained remarkably stubborn in her story. Not changing it, even after a severe beating.

Os sat down opposite. Os never drank, he felt it ruined his image as a feared, respected druid. Instead, he wrinkled his brow and stared into the flames, looking lost in thought.

“I invited you inside my home to make merry, friend,” said Morgan. “Come on, lets talk of happy things.”

“I’m thinking about the girl’s story. That mausoleum was locked and guarded. There’s no way he could have escaped.”

“Don’t tell me you think she’s telling the truth. You’re smarter than that, Os.”

“I’ve heard of people being carried to the Dark World before.”

“Not from inside the walls of the city.”

“He was down there with the dead. Perhaps the spirits took him.”

“Good. I hope they killed him themselves and rid us of this problem of ours.”

“Spirits shouldn’t be joked about.”

Morgan sighed. Os was always so serious. He took his druid role seriously, truly believing that he did receive messages from the Dark World during their rituals.

Morgan had never heard a thing. But he was happy to pretend that he had, especially is that meant finding a way to put his son on the throne of Cwm.

It was apparent that Morgan was going to get no small talk out of Os. They would have to talk about their plans, then. How drearily dull. But it was still better than sitting in the company of his wife all evening.

“Emrys may reappear again and make good on his challenge. How do you fair my son’s chances in the stone circle?” he said.

“He’s a fine fighter. Not an axe-bearer, but I’ve seen him with a Sax style sword. He moves quick, and he acts without mercy. I think he will surprise Emrys.”

Morgan nodded. “Emrys is quick to rage. He doesn’t think about his actions before he takes them. But still, we could do without this fight. We should have killed the boy on the spot.”

“Then people would have suspected us.”

“They will suspect us anyway. He has vanished.”

“His sister is alive. We can get her to tell her story. People fear the spirits, and once they learn of Emrys’s crimes, they will see that it was a good thing he was taken.”

“Yes. We should release her after tomorrow. Everyone will know the truth anyway.”

“We should put her somewhere we can keep an eye on her. Let her stay in prison.”

“No, marry her to someone. They can be responsible for her then.”

“That sounds risky.”

“Prisoners are expensive. And we have other matters to attend to.”

Os nodded. He didn’t really sound as though he was truly listening. He kept staring into the fire, wearing a glazed expression upon his face. Morgan was sure that he was thinking about spirits, and other worlds. For some reason, which irritated Morgan. He wasn’t completely sure why.

Either way, it was all just a distraction. Real change was on the horizon. Through his son, he intended to build a dynasty to last a thousand years.

#

Emrys allowed his rage to subside completely. He pushed himself up from a sitting position as he breathed heavily, taking in humid, Dark World air through his nose. His body was cut in a dozen places. The cuts weren’t deep, but they hurt far more than they should have. He had to grit his teeth to stop himself crying out from the pain.

Across from his, Dara sheathed his knife. “Did I go too far?” the fairy asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure? You’re shaking dear boy.”

Emrys bandaged up his wounds whilst practicing his breathing. He knew that the pain was just a sensation. He could fight through it. His body still worked for him, and it was capable of more strength than ever.

He had been training in the Dark World for four weeks. During that time, he had made some incredibly rapid progress. He was able to sustain a blood rage for a good long while- even a couple of hours, if he really pushed himself. It had become apparent, however, that Dara had magic of his own. No matter how strong Emrys became, Dara was able to make himself stronger.

It made him the perfect training partner. Whenever Emrys reached a new goal, and a new feat of strength, Dara pushed him to take it further.

Emrys knew that he was ready. He felt it in his heart. Gwern would be an easy target now. When he fought through the blood rage, Emrys’s battle-wounds didn’t trouble him. His body fought through the pain, breaking new limits again and again.

Gwern would be facing a warrior blessed with magic. There was no way that the runt would be able to win.

“I want to leave here,” Emrys announced.

“I was worried you’d say that. I don’t think it’s wise,” said Dara.

“Because you’ll be bored without me?”

“Because your control is good, but not perfect. When you face me, you get carried away, sometimes. Who knows what you’ll be like when you come face to face with the man you hate.”

“I’ve made up my mind. I can’t leave my sister unprotected for much longer.”

Dara sighed, then shrugged. “I can’t stop you,” he said.

“You promised me you would tell me about my mother.”

“I didn’t tell you when. And you still don’t need any distractions. After your battle in the stone circle, come seek me out again. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I promise.”

“They say a promise from a fairy always comes with a price.”

“My dear boy, you wound me. Haven’t I only helped you out, so far?”

Emrys didn’t reply. He was trying not to think about what he had agreed to. Being a steward to the bone tree for the rest of his life. It sounded bleak and depressing, even with Dara’s company (which he had grown quite fond of).

It was no life for a true heir. But still, it was inescapable. He knew that in his heart, which was forever linked with the bone tree now.

“How do I leave?” he asked.

“You’re quite sure I can’t tempt you to stay? I could make us both dinner.”

“Dara.”

“Yes, yes. You leave the same way you arrived, through that bone charm of yours. Don’t forget to give it an offering.”

Emrys nodded, then cut his palm. It hurt more than it should have- his body was still shaken up from his training with Dara. But Emrys didn’t wince from the pain. He rubbed a smear of blood across his necklace, and the world became smothered with mist once again.

#

Emrys’s eyes were not adjusted to the darkness. He could tell he was back in the mausoleum due to the icy chill in the air, but he could not yet see his sister.

“Emrys?”

“Angharad! Thank the gods you’re okay. I’m sorry I left, but I think I have what it takes now, sister. I think I can protect you.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that.”

Emrys felt his blood run cold. What did she mean?

It took a few minutes before he was able to make out her features. They were broken. Bruises covered every single inch of her body. Her face was pale and withdrawn, and she stunk like she was ill. Her shivering, which normally only arrived in fleeting bursts, was now constant. And more violent than ever.

She looked like a brittle child again. One who had been heavily abused, beaten down into nothing.

“Oh sister,” Emrys said. There were tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “Who did this to you? Was it Gwern?”

“It was one of his axe-bearers. He beat me as Gwern just watched, smirking like he always does.”

“If he can’t even face doing his own dirty work, then the man is no better than a dog. Come on, I’m getting us out of here.”

Emrys stood and went to the locked door that held them there in their prison. It was made of stone, and he knew there would be guards waiting on the other side. But that didn’t frighten him any longer.

He cut his palm and let the blood seep into his staff. At once he felt the blood rage take him, stronger than it ever had before. He swung the branch of the bone-tree. It shattered the stone door into pieces, and he stepped right through.

The two axe-bearers guarding the door stared at him as though he were a spirit from another realm.

“Lower your weapons,” he said. “Or I will beat you to death.”

Shaking, the men dropped their axes. Emrys marched through the Ancestral Hall, holding his sister’s hand, leading her behind him.