Into the Heartless Wood - Joanna Ruth Meyer Page 0,3

himself to avoid appearing superstitious. If the people of Tarian knew their king consulted the stars on a monthly basis—whatever his real reason—they would distrust him. He’s their hero, their champion against the Gwydden and her wood. If they thought he was seeking his future in the stars, they might whisper of magic; they might begin to think he was no different than the witch and her monstrous daughters. There is a thin line, after all, between magic and science.

The king’s man hesitates at the door, pulling two lumps of wax from his pocket but not putting them back in his ears yet. He clearly doesn’t relish the thought of going outside, even if the alternative means staying in here with me and Awela.

“Just seems like a waste of coin,” he says. “It could be going to the railroad.”

Awela lays her head against my neck, yawning. The tree sirens’ song is slipping through the cracks in the stones and into the house now. I might be stuck with the king’s man for a while—I don’t know that he can resist the pull, even through the wax. “What’s wrong with the railroad? It’s been running smoothly for a year now.”

The king’s man grimaces. “It was until the wood grew up around the tracks.”

“It did what?” I stare, shocked.

“Just west of your village, the train to Saeth runs almost entirely through the wood. Been that way since the winter.”

“Since the winter?” I’m repeating things stupidly, but I don’t care. Horror grips me. Along with the telegraph lines, the railroad is one of King Elynion’s crowning achievements, making travel swift and safe across Tarian, strengthening ties with our neighboring country and trade partner, Saeth. When he built it, the wood was miles away, the tracks running over long stretches of grassy plain. And now … “How is that possible?”

“The wood witch grows stronger, year by year. I’m surprised she hasn’t tumbled down that wall of yours.” He glances out the window. “But it’s worse than you know. The tracks in the forest are being torn up. The metal is twisted, the railroad ties ripped from the ground and set to stand upright like the trees they once were and hung with garlands of flowers. No matter they were never her trees;we brought all the lumber in from Saeth—His Majesty plays by the rules. It happens at random, delaying whole shipments. We have to repair sections of track nearly every week now. There will be trouble with Saeth if we can’t sort it out.”

He’s right. Tarian imports wood and coal from Saeth. We would be in bad trouble without it. Besides the slow, perilous sea routes, there’s no other way to get to Saeth, unless one was foolish enough to go through the wood on foot—horses won’t go near her trees.

Awela shifts on my shoulder, her small hands fisting my shirt. Outside, the rain drives on and on, and the tree sirens’ song fades into nothing. “You’ve been in the wood, then,” I say, not missing his use of “we.”

He shudders and nods. “I worked on the railroad six months, and I’m often sent out to guard the repair crew.”

My pulse throbs in my neck. “Have you ever seen them? The–the witch’s daughters?”

His hands twitch, the star chart casings in the oilcloth satchel rattling against each other. “Once. It was two months ago, the first time we were sent to repair a section of the track in the newly grown wood. We stuffed our ears with wax against their songs. We armed ourselves with knives and guns. But when they came, it wasn’t enough. There were three of them, and their devilish music was loud even through the wax. They were fast as snakes, with glowing eyes and bony hands, and they bound our bodies with living branches that twisted and squeezed, winding into our flesh.”

I stare at the king’s man in utter horror.

“It was our captain who saved most of us, with a bundle of kerosene-soaked rags and a packet of gunpowder. Scared the devils off long enough for us to escape. But our captain died anyway. He’d lost too much blood.”

I eye the king’s man with new respect.

He shakes his head, as if to shake the memory away. He seems to realize the music has faded from the wood. “Good day, then.” He stuffs the wax into his ears and steps outside, shutting the door behind him. I’m not sorry to see him go. I tuck Awela into her little bed on