Part 43 (1/2)
Captain Branfort touched Ivy's arm. ”Do not be afraid. The wall is very thick. It has withstood the forest for over a thousand years. There is no way they can get beyond it.”
Ivy's breathing was rapid; her heart raced in her breast. Only she was not frightened. Rather, a wonder had come over her, and an exhilaration. The soldier started back down the path after his compatriots. Captain Branfort and Colonel Daubrent followed.
All around now were shouts and cries of alarm. The horses were wild-eyed, having smelled the smoke, but there was no hope of getting the carriages any farther from the wall; as people fled from the Evengrove the road had become a snarl of traffic worse than the busiest day on Marble Street.
Instead, the driver freed the horses from the harnesses. He took the team from the four-in-hand, while Mr. Baydon grabbed the reins of the colonel's pair. They led the beasts away from the wall while Mrs. Baydon and Lady Crayford hurried after, along with the maid.
Ivy hesitated. Smoke billowed into the sky, and ash had begun to rain down like gray snow. Above the top of the wall, the trees still tossed to and fro. She was astonished by the violence and speed with which they moved. Even as she watched, she saw the first branches reach out and scrabble against the topmost stones, straining to reach past. first branches reach out and scrabble against the topmost stones, straining to reach past.
”Lady Quent, what are you doing?”
Only when she heard Mr. Baydon's shout did Ivy realize she had taken several steps down the path toward the wall. She nearly collided with a knot of people fleeing along the path.
One of them, a young man, flung up his hand to keep from colliding with her. His palm was marked with black lines, and she wondered if he had gotten too close to the fire. Indeed, the sleeves of his coat were scorched in several places; only the marks on his hand were too sharp to have been formed by smears of soot.
In an instant, the group was past her, and Ivy forgot all other thoughts as she saw three figures hurrying up the path.
”Mr. Rafferdy!” she cried out, running toward him.
Lord Eubrey and Lord Coulten were with him, and such was their pace that she had gone only a few steps before they were upon her.
”Mrs. Quent, are you well?” There was great concern in his eyes.
”I am!” she said, rather breathlessly. ”I had feared you were still near the wall. I am so relieved you are away. It is...”
”It is a Rising,” Lord Eubrey said, his expression more one of interest than dread.
In hurried words, Ivy explained how Captain Branfort and Colonel Daubrent had gone to aid the soldiers, and the others had gone with the horses away from the wall.
”Then let us join them,” Lord Eubrey said, starting in that direction. Lord Coulten said nothing as he followed after, his face the color of whey.
”Come, Mrs. Quent, we must go.”
Mr. Rafferdy took her arm. At that moment came the terrible sound of a man's screams. They both turned to see a dreadful sight: a soldier caught in a tangle of black branches, being lifted into the air.
How the branches had managed to reach so far down, Ivy did not know. Perhaps it was a place where, due to long years of weathering or some other damage, the wall was a little lower. Or perhaps the boughs of the trees were extending in length somehow. Whatever the reason, it was enough for the branches to just reach a soldier as he ran along the base of the wall, a bucket in hand.
”Do not look, Mrs. Quent!” Mr. Rafferdy cried. ”Turn your head.”
As he said this, he took her in his arms, and with one hand pressed her cheek against his coat to avert her eyes. However, he had not been so swift that she hadn't seen the soldier's limbs flop about like those of a doll shaken by a child, or how he was cast twenty feet back to the ground.
For a moment both she and Mr. Rafferdy were motionless, though she could hear the thudding of his heart in his chest. It felt different than when Mr. Quent held her close. Mr. Rafferdy's arms were perhaps not so powerful, but he was taller, and was able to easily enfold her in his embrace, so that she felt no less secure.
”Good G.o.d,” Mr. Rafferdy said in a low voice. ”I did not believe they could reach so far. I think the poor fellow is...”
He did not finish speaking, nor did he need to. She had no doubt that the unfortunate soldier had perished in the fall, if not before. How many others would share a similar fate before the fire could be put out?
A thought occurred to her, one that left her feeling giddy. The Old Trees were las.h.i.+ng out because they were fearful; she could hear it in their wordless voices. But what if they could be told that they had no reason to be afraid, that they were safe within the bounds of the wall? Was there not at least some possibility they might listen?
Only she had to get closer. She had to touch them.
”Mr. Rafferdy,” she said, pus.h.i.+ng herself away from his grasp. ”I must get closer to the wall.”
His expression was startled. And at first, she was not certain it was her words that had astonished him, but rather the fact of their embrace. However, after a moment it was clear her words had indeed impinged upon him. was her words that had astonished him, but rather the fact of their embrace. However, after a moment it was clear her words had indeed impinged upon him.
”You are in a state of shock, Mrs. Quent! It has made you morbid. You must come with me at once.”
Beyond him, she could see soldiers running toward their fallen comrade, axes in their hands. This only convinced her further.
”No, Mr. Rafferdy. There is something I must do there, though I know you cannot possibly understand.”
”No, I cannot understand!” he exclaimed. ”You've just seen a man perish. Would you have yourself be the next?”
”No, I would try to ensure that no more come to harm.”
”How is such a thing possible?”
”I do not know that it is possible! But there is some hope it may be if I can get to the wall.” Then she shook her head, her thoughts racing. ”Except it won't be enough to be close to the wall. I must find a way to get through through it. Yet how could that be done? Perhaps it is hopeless after all.” it. Yet how could that be done? Perhaps it is hopeless after all.”
His expression was startled anew. She laid a hand on his arm.
”What is it, Mr. Rafferdy? There is something you almost spoke just now. What was it? I beg that you tell me!”
He drew in a shuddering breath. ”There is a door in the wall, one locked by magick. Eubrey had read of it, and Coulten discovered it.”
”When?”
”Just a little while earlier.”
”And you opened it with magick?”
He hesitated, then nodded. ”At first I feared it was our own actions that disturbed the trees. Only it wasn't-it was the fire.”
A thrill pa.s.sed through her, and she tightened her fingers around his arm. ”You did not cause this, Mr. Rafferdy, but perhaps you can help to ease it if you take me to the door.”
He shook his head and tried to recoil from her, but she would not release him from her grasp.
”How could I do such a thing?”
Ivy drew in a breath. There was so much to explain to him, only there was no time. The crowns of the trees continued to heave violently; the air was choked with smoke and ash. only there was no time. The crowns of the trees continued to heave violently; the air was choked with smoke and ash.
”Mr. Rafferdy,” she said, keeping her voice low, and meeting his gaze with her own. ”I know you recall our encounter with the magicians of my father's order at the house on Durrow Street. Yet there is something about that day you do not know-something that I did. You did not see due to the enchantment they placed upon you, but it is something you will witness now if you take me to the door, and then you will understand.”
He stared at her, his expression one of horror. Yet there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes as well-she was certain of it.
”Please, Mr. Rafferdy! You know I would not ask you such a thing if it must not be done.”
A shudder pa.s.sed through him, and he held a hand to his brow. ”Your husband will have me hanged if he learns of this.” Then a wan smile touched the corners of his lips. ”Yet how can I argue with you, Mrs. Quent? You have ever been the sensible one, not I.”