Circles of Stone

“We really flew, Filimaya!” said Simia. “As high as the clouds – higher even!”

“It sounds magical, Simsi,” smiled Filimaya. She turned to Sylas. “Was it, Sylas? Was it magic? Or was it the science of your world? Of the Other?” She raised an eyebrow. “I ask because you seem to know quite a lot about both.”

Sylas thought for a moment. It was still so strange to hear his own world referred to as “the Other” – if anything was other it was this place – this world – with its magic and its creatures and outlandish people.

“I think it was a bit of both,” he said hesitantly. “Magic and science. The gliders seemed to work, but I don’t think they would have flown like that if Ash hadn’t summoned the winds.”

“And so already the two worlds are becoming one,” said Filimaya, almost to herself.

For a moment they walked in silence, each lost in their thoughts.

Finally Filimaya frowned. “So … you and Naeo are able to be together? You said you held hands. You shared a glider?”

“Then, yes,” said Sylas. “I mean, it felt weird, and it hurt – here, around the Merisi band –” he held up his wrist to reveal the glistening bracelet – “but it was like, in that moment, we were meant to be together.”

“And since that moment?”

“It’s just been … difficult. To be around each other,” said Sylas, shaking his head. “It’s hard to describe why. It’s like I start to feel … like the parts of me – my bones, my insides, even my thoughts … I don’t know …” He trailed off.

Filimaya looked at him with concern.

“I keep telling him, I’m not sure they should still be together at all!” said Simia knowingly. She lowered her voice. “And Naeo’s just a bit—”

“I’m sure Sylas and Naeo will be trying to work all this out themselves in their own good time,” interrupted Filimaya. She put a hand on Sylas’s shoulder. “Come on, it’s this way.”

She led them through a veil of vines towards a denser part of the forest. As they passed through the long dangling strands, Sylas jabbed Simia in the side.

“I told you to keep out of it,” he hissed.

Simia gaped innocently. “I was just being honest,” she protested. “You seemed to think that was a good thing when we got here!”

Sylas said nothing and pushed on.

As the vines fell away they gasped. Here the tree trunks were as wide as houses and soared above them to new heights, like the columns of some grand and ancient citadel. Sylas and Simia craned their necks towards the canopy, trying in vain to see the topmost branches.

“So, tell me,” said Filimaya in a casual tone over her shoulder, “where is Paiscion now?”

Sylas and Simia exchanged glances, as though neither wanted to reply.

“We don’t really know,” said Simia hesitantly. “He didn’t come back to the Windrush.”

“But he said he might not …” added Sylas, quickly. “And he said we shouldn’t worry about him.”

For a moment, Filimaya turned and gazed at them anxiously, as though hoping they would say more, but when nothing came she breathed in deeply and turned her eyes upwards. She watched the path of a fluttering bird until it was out of sight, but in truth, she seemed to be composing herself.

Eventually she looked down again. “Well, young Sylas Tate,” she said, her voice sounding a little forced, “every chapter of your adventure is more extraordinary than the last. I marvel at all you have endured and discovered.”

Sylas smiled, but that too was an effort. “The thing is,” he said, “I still don’t feel we know what we’re doing. I mean, I’ve found out all about the Glimmer Myth, and I get that Naeo and I have … well, everything to do with it. And we’ve even managed to find each other, and to get away from Thoth and the city. But while we were on our way here, all I could think was, what next? Now that we’re together, what do we do?” He frowned. “And the truth is, I still haven’t managed to do the one thing I actually set out to do, which is to find my mum.”

Filimaya regarded him closely for a moment and then raised her hand to his shoulder. “The truth, Sylas, is that you are at the centre of great things, and the greatest of things rarely happen when and how we choose.”

Sylas gave her a pained look. “But it’s all just so …”

“Frustrating? Yes, of course it is.” She smiled and cast her eyes around her. “But you’re here now, in the Valley of Outs, among friends and allies. We will help you to understand and to decide what comes next. I will call a Say-So especially. But right now, Sylas, Simia, you’re exhausted. I’d love to stay with you and ask more, but now you need to go and rest. You can speak to us all, tomorrow, at the Say-So, once you have had a good meal and a decent sleep.”

Sylas shifted his rucksack on his shoulder and allowed himself to feel the weariness in his limbs and the fogginess in his mind. Filimaya was right, of course. They had hardly slept all the way here – keeping watch, talking, going over all that had happened and what might come next. He looked up at her and nodded gratefully. “I’d like that,” he said.

She gestured towards the forest. “So go on!”

Sylas and Simia looked where she had pointed. There was nothing there: just more ferns, bracken and tree trunks.

“Are we … camping?” asked Simia, failing to hide her disappointment.

Filimaya’s laugh rang through the trees. “No, of course not –” she pointed – “that’s where you’ll be staying.”

Sylas and Simia peered past her. She was pointing at a gigantic tree, which towered even higher than those around it and whose massive trunk was at least the width of a small house.

“Come on – take a closer look!” she said, setting out towards it.

They all walked slowly across the clearing, staring at the colossal redwood – its huge roots snaking over the surface like dragon tails; its vast, gnarled limbs reaching up into the canopy as far as they could see. But there was no sign of any shelter.

Then Sylas saw it.

In a fold of the trunk, between the joints of two great roots, there was an opening: a triangular slit where the flank of the tree had naturally grown apart. Sylas and Simia clambered over one of the roots and stood gazing up at the huge entrance, a grin of delight spreading across their faces. The lip around the dark cavern was smooth, almost as though it had been crafted that way, but there were no cuts or straight lines, no joints or nails. They could smell cool air issuing from the living cave, but it was not musty: it smelt fresh and a little sweet, like timber. And there, deep in the hollow, they saw a flickering light. Then another and another: little oil lamps, dotted around what looked like a substantial chamber.

Simia beamed at Filimaya. “We’re staying in there?”

“Why not?” asked Filimaya, smiling. “This is how we live in the Valley of Outs.”

Sylas frowned. “In trees?”

“In trees, caves, dells, on lily-rafts, behind waterfalls, beneath roots and hillocks, among the birds in the canopy. Wherever Nature opens herself to us. She is a very generous host, so there’s never a shortage of places to stay!”

“She makes them for you?”

“Yes, but not at our bidding. We simply find them when we need them. The more we need the more we find, and I daresay that if we all left one day, they would disappear. Nature provides what is needed and nothing more.” She smiled and looked about her. “And such has been our need since the Reckoning that this place has become something of a town. We call it Sylva.”

Sylas looked around him but could see no sign of a town. There were no homes or walkways or streets, not even any people.

Simia could not restrain herself any longer. “I’m going inside,” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “Are you coming?”

Filimaya was already turning to leave. “You’ll find everything you need. Someone will come and get you in the morning,” she said brightly, as she disappeared into the forest.

Sylas turned and eyed the dark opening, wondering at the mysterious forces that had made it. Then he followed Simia inside.

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“The spirit ofthe valleynever dies. It is the root of heaven and earth.”