A Ghost in the House of Iron

Chapter Five

ADAIN

It feels like time works differently in the forest. Afternoon sunlight dances through the swaying leaves above, but down below we're walking in a world of shadows, a maze of moss-covered trunks and big hunks of stone. The rich, sweet smell of moist earth and decay is laced with the sharpness of fir, pine, newly growing things. Somewhere nearby, a stream burbles. Birds call to each other in the branches. I glimpse a doe darting away through the trees. Leon lazily swings a stick as we wander along, and I toss up a shiny rock I found in the underbrush, catching it middair just to throw it again.

"I don't want to be king," I say. "I don't even want to be a prince."

Leon gives one of his usual shrugs. "We don't really get to choose. We have to be what they expect us to be."

I scoff. "Do you want to be a guard?"

He climbs onto a large fallen tree and perches there, looking down at me with a considering head-tilt. "I don't know. I think so."

I swing my lanky body up to sit next to him on the trunk. "My mother says to be myself, and not let the world decide who that is for me. She thought she'd be a seamstress, and now she's a queen. But how do I get them to understand? Nobody listens to me."

A creaky voice answers from the gloom of the forest: "No one listens? The trees do!"

I almost fall from the trunk, and with instincts like lightning, Leon jumps down into a crouch, his stick held out like a sword. A spindly old man with wild tufts of gray hair steps into view, smiling widely. He is wearing a patchwork robe that blends in with the forest, twigs and acorns sewn randomly onto it. A pair of antlers hangs from around his neck, and he carries a gnarled staff.

"Two adventurous boys!" he says with a delighted laugh. "Have you come to visit Halifass, or have you gotten lost?"

"We're not lost," I say. "I know where we are." Though I don't, exactly. It just hadn't concerned me much until now.

"Oh! In that case, welcome to my home." Halifass waves his arm at the base of an enormous tree before us, and for the first time, I notice the outline of a door.

My mouth hangs open. Leon lowers his stick, blinking in surprise.

Halifass skips over to the tree and knocks his staff against the door. It swings easily open at his command. "Well, are you coming?" the old man asks. "I've made mushroom stew."

He goes inside without waiting for an answer, and Leon and I share a long look.

"Stew sounds good," Leon says, eyebrows raised.

I laugh, and with a shrug, Leon walks into the hollow tree.

Inside is a cozy room with a surprising amount of light. It filters in through openings in the trunk high above, filling the space with a golden warmth. Carved into the sides of the tree are counters and shelves, many of which hold glass jars and vials of various unknown substances. Over our heads, bundles of herbs and mushrooms hang to dry and shiny bits of crystal dangle from string, reflecting rainbows as they spin in a stray breeze. There is a small round stove to one side that looks to be made of clay. It's engraved with designs of flames, and has a delicately arched chimney that pokes out of the side of the tree. On top of the stove is a bubbling pot of stew.

"I apologize that I don't have any chairs!" Halifass says, stirring the stew with a wooden spoon. "I don't often have guests. Or at least not of the human variety. Birds and squirrels don't really sit still." He laughs, as if imagining a dinner party of woodland animals.

Leon wipes dust and crumbs off a portion of the counter with his hand and hops up to sit. "Thank you for sharing your meal with us," he says. "I'm starving."

"Of course!" Halifass says, getting a stack of wooden bowls from a shelf.

I realize I'm still standing awkwardly by the door, and move so I'm leaning against the counter next to Leon. "Who are you?" I ask, a question I've been holding in since Halifass stepped out of the trees.

"Just an old hermit." Halifass winks at me.

"Are you a druid?" I ask.

"If I were," Halifass says with a chuckle, "it wouldn't be wise to tell the young prince of Ylvemore, would it?"

"How do you know who I am?"

"The trees listen!" He hands me a bowl of steaming stew, the broth dark and thick.

"So you are a druid!"

"Maybe I'm just mad. Did you consider that?"

I make a face at him, wishing he'd stop grinning like that and take me seriously.

"This is very good!" Leon says, slurping the stew right from the bowl.

"I'm glad you like it!" Halifass says, taking a sip himself.

I consider asking for a spoon, but since neither of them seem to think one necessary I decide against it. Feeling rather barbaric, I lift the bowl to my mouth. It tastes like dirt and has the texture of slime. I choke, try to hide the reaction, and end up coughing uncontrollably. 

"Oh dear. Are you alright?" Halifass asks, coming over to pat me on the back.

I wave my hand to indicate that I'm fine, still coughing. "I'm sorry. It was just too hot."

I can tell from Leon's expression that he doesn't believe the lie for a second, but Halifass at least pretends to. Holding back laughter, my friend reaches down to take my portion of the stew while Halifass is distracted fussing over me. The old man hands me a wooden cup and I take a grateful drink, expecting water. I almost spit, realizing too late that he's steeped some unknown plants in the now-cool liquid. My fault for not smelling it first. I drink the rest of the pungent liquid, my face hot with shame.

"Peppermint, goblin root and chamomile!" Halifass says, answering my unspoken question. "Very soothing. I find the flavor also goes very well with honey oatcakes." He lifts a crock from a shelf, pulling the lid off and offering the contents to me with a knowing smile.

The crumbly biscuits are practically dripping with sticky-sweet honey. I eat two, and when Halifass offers me more of the herbal beverage from a wooden carafe, I accept. It is much better than I thought, now that I'm over the surprise. With his encouragement, I help myself to another oatcake.

Leon devours my bowl of stew along with his, then has an oatcake for dessert. Halifass sits by the stove on a pile of cloth he must use as a bed, legs sprawled in front of him beneath a curtain of robes. He sips his dinner and beams at us. "I'm so pleased to have human company! It has been a very long time, you know."

"Thank you for having us. Your home is beautiful," I say, and I mean it. There is something about the space, a sort of peace, that is slowly seeping into me the longer we're there. The light dims as the sun begins to go down, but as it does I notice that the hanging crystals glitter and glow as though they're still reflecting the sunlight. That strange effect is enough to illuminate the room, and I find myself staring up at the twinkling bobbles, mesmerized.

"I wish you could stay and tell me stories of the world out there," Halifass says. "But the trees are getting nervous. Your parents are worried, young prince. They've sent out many men on horses."

It's like waking from a dream. I shoot upright, looking around at the growing shadows with sudden comprehension. It was already growing late when we entered Halifass' home, but now the sun is almost fully set. "Leon! We've been gone for hours!"

He jumps down from the counter. "This isn't going to be good."

As we rush out the door, Halifass calls, "If you want to find me, tell the trees!"

I look back to thank him again, but even though we've only gone a few steps, the door is gone. The fallen trunk we sat on what feels like a lifetime ago is still there, but Halifass' tree is not. It's simply vanished, as if it had never been there at all.

"Leon," I say, hoping it's a trick of the light, my eyes not yet adjusted to the deepening gloom of the forest.

"Huh," my friend says. "Wish I knew how to do that." The sounds of shouts and thundering hoofbeats near, and he grimaces.