Read Online Heartwood by Freya Robertson - Free Book Online Page B

of people dead or injured. “Why?” Chonrad found himself saying, his brow furrowed as he thought of how devastating the attack had been. “Why did they do it?”
    And then, suddenly, Procella jumped as if she had been struck by lightning. “The Arbor!” she shrieked and, before anyone could stop her, she leapt over the dead bodies lying nearest the Curia and sprinted down the road towards the Castellum.
    Chonrad was just the beat of a pulse behind her. In the pouring rain they ran to the central road and then turned towards the Temple. His heart thudded, and it was not just from the exertion of the run. Could it have been the Arbor the warriors were after?
    Behind him he could hear the pounding of feet as everyone followed, but he and Procella were way ahead. Debris littered the road, bits of tent pole and food and animals and dead people, but there was no time to stop and assess the situation. Together they raced towards the Castellum, and part of him wanted to get there, and part of him didn’t.
    The rain soon soaked him, but he paid little heed to the wetness on his face, welcoming the coolness. His worst fears were realised, however, as they neared the building and saw the oak doors were open, the entrance encumbered by the bodies of the two dead Custodes who usually guarded the doors. Procella didn’t stop, however; she leapt over the fallen knights and Chonrad followed, entering the darkness of the Temple.
    He almost ran into her, and Fulco into him, neither realising the one in front had stopped. “What…” he began, his voice faltering as he took in the scene before him.
    The place was littered with dead and wounded Militis. He heard Procella’s intake of breath as she looked around the room, taking in the number of fallen knights. Heartwood knights prided themselves on their military prowess, and they were a strong and fearless bunch. How many of the water warriors had attacked the Temple to cause such damage?
    The waters had obviously risen in here too, because the wooden tiers had been damaged in places, and broken beams littered the floor. Their attention, however, was soon drawn to the tree that stood in the centre of the rings.
    Procella walked forward, stopped, then walked forward again. Chonrad followed her slowly. He could not believe what his eyes were seeing.
    The Arbor was split in half.
    A dozen swords had hacked at the top of the trunk, severing some of the branches and carving a great gouge in the bark so they could get the blades in even deeper. He dreaded to think about the strength of the warriors who had caused such damage. Their continued carving had resulted in the trunk being divided almost to the ground.
    Procella stopped and fell to her knees. Suddenly he realised who lay on the floor – it was Silva, and miraculously she was still alive. She was covered in blood though, and he guessed the water warriors had probably left her for dead not realising that in fact some small amount of lifeforce still existed inside her.
    Procella cradled Silva’s head, brushing back some of the black hair. The disturbing golden eyes flickered and she looked up at the knight crouching over her. “I am sorry,” she said in a husky voice.
    Procella half-laughed, half-cried as she said: “What do you have to be sorry about?”
    â€œI let them take it,” said Silva. She turned her head and spat blood onto the floor before continuing. “I could not stop them. I let them take it, I am sorry.”
    â€œTake what?” Chonrad asked, dropping to his knees beside her.
    â€œThe Pectoris.” Silva dissolved into tears. “The heart of the Arbor is gone!”
    Chonrad’s eyes met Procella’s. Together they looked up at the old oak tree. Its heart taken, the Arbor sagged sadly.
    But that wasn’t the worst thing of all somehow, in Chonrad’s mind.
    The worst thing was that the Arbor’s leaves were starting to