Dougray stumbled back with an inarticulate cry of disbelief. Unruffled, Belle had three arrows into its side before he could blink and would have run forward with her sword swinging had he not caught her by the arm.
‘No Belle! Not this!’
Swift and fierce, the Elven soldiers lunged forward and pierced the shriek’s hide with lances. Its thrashing claws sought to take several more Elves out with it before it died. Each claw was like a curved blade that slashed in every direction. A moment later, Gaylan reached forward, yanked his lance from its still body. Then he was yelling, urging them to run. The Elves formed a tight knot about them as they headed in the direction of the Beginning.
Nearer than the Hall of Lights, the gigantic tree was their one safe passage through the earth to freedom. The haunting wails of more shrieks pursued their pounding feet, reminding them of what waited if they failed to reach it in time.
As Dougray ran, his anxious thoughts shifted to Robbie. Where was he? Was he already inside the Beginning? He had to believe, have faith in the Morning Star, that his brother was safe from harm. Why did he always choose to be alone? When all this was over, he’d truss him up and have him carried.
Up ahead, an enormous tree towered above the others, spreading immense, orange branches over the wood like the huge tentacles of an immense creature. He’d seen the Beginning many times from a distance, had admired the vastness of it and had even walked around it with Belle and Dewleaf—over a hundred paces. Now they would have to venture inside its dark, woody interior.
Robbie, please be there already. Keep him safe, Morning Star. He couldn’t think straight. With lungs ready to burst, he was bundled through a trapdoor into a gloomy, narrow passage. Rich earthiness filled his flaring nostrils as he breathed in the air. Then the trapdoor was shut and with it, the light dimmed.
Thrusting her light stone forward, Belle glanced about. The Elves slowed their pace to a steady march. Plentiful light beads grew in crevices, cascaded down dark, earthy walls and spilled their golden glow upon a wide stairway. The Elves led them down into the heart of the earth.
A platoon of armed, Elven soldiers appeared out of the gloom below with a creak of armour. They hurried up the stairs towards them. Gaylan pulled Dougray out of the way as the Elves shouldered past. An Elf called Silvani halted beside Dewleaf and placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Have you seen your sister?’
Dewleaf blinked at him. ‘She went with the women and children days ago. Why?’
Silvani shook his head. ‘No, my friend. She came back this morning, and despite Gendelthane’s warnings, she went back up.’
Dewleaf’s face twisted in disbelief. ‘What? Are you certain?’
With a slight nod, Silvani glanced at Dougray and then hurried after his platoon. Gaylan came alongside Dewleaf.
‘There must be a misunderstanding. She would not have disobeyed Gendelthane’s orders—’
Dewleaf glared at Dougray. ‘She came back for your brother! If she is not down here, then neither is he.’
Dougray swallowed the lump in his throat. How could Robbie be so foolish as to endanger both their lives—again? Not more than a week ago, he and Filligreen had taken off by themselves to destroy the black dragon, which had made Alysam’s cave its lair. The foolish quest had almost ended in tragedy. He shook his head, unable to offer Dewleaf any reasonable explanation. Once again, Belle defused the explosive moment.
‘You cannot be certain, Dewleaf. And Dougray is not your enemy; Morgran is! You are fighting a war that cannot be won with hatred for the Rafem, or have you forgotten who this is?’
Heat suffused Dougray’s cheeks. ‘Please Belle. He’s right.’ He looked at Dewleaf. ‘I will make it up to you in some way if Robbie is to blame. We must work together.’
‘And what do you propose we do?’ the Elf snapped. ‘If they are still up there, then they will be dead by now! They cannot fight against shrieks.’
Gaylan touched his arm. ‘We cannot linger here, nor can I allow either of you to return. By now, the wood is overrun with these devils and you would not last out the hour.’
Dougray frowned. ‘Then we’ll find another way.’
Belle was calm as she faced Dougray and then the Elf. ‘If Navarre is down here, he will offer you both counsel.’
Dewleaf’s voice tightened. ‘If he made it at all.’
Gaylan motioned them down a series of well-lit, winding steps carved into one huge, coiled root of the tree. In silence, they marched down into the bowels of the earth, Gaylan and his company out in front, pale shadows in the dull light.
The passageways created by the probing roots were vast. Shadowed corridors branched off at odd angles, all interconnected by countless rough-hewn steps. Many strange and intricate designs carved into the wood loomed about them, made by centuries of Elves who had delved below the huge tree. It was a feat of ingenuity unrivalled by any other race, yet Dougray saw none of it as he trudged past in turmoil, his eyes fixed on the steps in front of his feet.
Chapter 3
Imaginings
Sleek, black-bodied with long, agile limbs that ended in razor-sharp claws, the shriek leaped with astounding and alarming speed. Before it could be dispatched, two Elves lay strewn across the path with their throats torn open. Trisian was shouting, dragging Robbie and Filligreen to their feet. He ran ahead, shielding them with his body.
Another shriek, concealed among the branches, hurtled into them a minute later. The Elf at the rear fled back, a fragile figure against the swift body of darkness that bounded after him. He dodged its deadly claws as it swiped at his running feet. Trisian and the other Elves ran to his aid. Robbie and Filligreen raced after them, halting at the grisly sight around a corner of branches.
The Elf, striking blindly with his sword, slipped and fell, his sword tumbling from his grasp. The shriek lunged for his throat. He was dead before a lance pierced its hide.
Filligreen, white-faced, buried her head in Robbie’s shoulder. Trisian’s shout made her look up.
‘Keep going!’
On through the gloom they ran. Behind them, more shrieks howled in pursuit. Trisian reached down for a steel-tipped lance that had fallen on the path ahead and kept running. A dark shadow lay camouflaged ahead of him. Leaping clear of the creature’s swiping claws, he spun about and thrust the lance into its open maw. The stricken shriek shook its head in mad oblivion, pawing at the deadly obstruction. Trisian shouted, urging Robbie and Filligreen on. They discovered more Elves, lifeless and bloodied, strewn across the tree path ahead. Their blood washed the battle-scarred wood.
A soundless cry gurgled from Filligreen’s throat as she stumbled back against the wooden rail in fear. Trisian was beside her, and with a stern shout to admonish her, she continued running.
Robbie stumbled after them with wild, searching eyes. The other Elves were nowhere to be seen.
The Hall of Lights appeared ahead, but again they were too late. Bodies lay strewn outside on the platform, and attendants still clutching plates lay throughout the building. The great Hall of the Elves had become a charnel house.
Filligreen cried out, struggling against the grisly sight. Her knees buckled under her and Robbie caught her in his arms.
Trisian shook him. ‘Hurry! We must get to a basket and reach the ground.’
The Captain led the way down several levels. Robbie followed in a daze. It was Syone all over again, except this was far worse. Howls rose all around them in fever pitch, but there were no immediate sounds of pursuit. He could only ascribe their deliverance to the Morning Star’s hand shielding them.
A basket appeared ahead, nestled against a tree. Desperate, Trisian opened the door and urged them inside.
‘I will lower you down and then follow.’
They crouched up against the woven side of the basket. Robbie wrapped his arms about Filligreen’s trembling body as it started its erratic journey down through the trees. Robbie glanced about the dark canopy, expecting a shrie
k to leap at them from the branches at any moment. Filligreen’s terrified eyes glanced about. Then the basket came to an abrupt halt and a scream drifted down from above. The basket swayed for several precarious minutes in the air without moving before Robbie whispered his fears.
‘Filligreen, we have to get out.’
Dazed, she looked at him. With a vague nod, she lifted her head above the rim of the basket and peered about. Then she sank down beside him again.
‘There is a branch nearby that we can reach.’
‘Filligreen, I’m not as good at climbing trees as you are.’
‘I will go first. Just follow me. We are not far from the ground.’
For several minutes neither of them moved, and then she reached up, unlatched the door and swung it open. With a sweeping glance at the surrounding wood, she leaped out of the basket, sending it lurching sideways. Robbie grasped the sides to stop himself from falling out. He waited until the basket stopped swinging and for his heart to slow before he had enough courage to stand up.
Filligreen was already crouched in the tree glancing about, not looking at him. The howling screams of nearby shrieks prodded Robbie to make the leap. His grasping hands curled about the nearest branch. It bobbed up and down and he clung to the wood with all his strength, too afraid to let go.
He scrambled up beside Filligreen and for a few moments, he couldn’t move a muscle. His heart pounded like a drum and he trembled all over. Not until Filligreen’s clammy fingers fastened around his arm did he become aware of the proximity of the howls above them. They had to hurry.
Filligreen began to climb down, limb over limb, until she landed with her feet on the ground. He was surprised at the closeness of the forest floor below them. If he had to, he could jump the distance. Instead, he climbed down with caution and followed Filligreen as she ran into the forest. It unfolded its ancient, gnarled arms and stretched them forth as if to gather them into its woody embrace, though it was anything but inviting. Its dank, fetid smells wafted in the air, an odour of fouled waters and rotting corpses.
They stumbled over hard, snaking roots that formed deep gullies before them, some filled with black puddles. With flailing arms, they shoved aside mosses that dangled in front of their faces. What waited behind them was an ever-present terror.
They fled deeper into the wood. Robbie’s lungs burned from all the running, his breathing loud and laboured in his ears. Filligreen, too, almost collapsed. The hideous sounds of shrieks seeking prey and of Elves dying continued to drift down in haunting echoes which followed them. Despair blurred Robbie’s eyes, his throat tight as emotions careened inside him. When he could go no more, he reached out and caught Filligreen’s hand in his. She stumbled to a halt, breathless, and looked at him.
‘We have to stop...and rest.’
She nodded.
All the tall, moss-covered trees looked alike. Perhaps they’d been running in circles and hadn’t realised. Wyrm Wood was an odd place, full of the weave of untaming magic that could make any deception seem real. That was the danger.
Still holding Filligreen’s hand, he stumbled forward to the nearest tree. Its iron-hard roots rose like walls that snaked off into the shadows. He collapsed in a dry hollow of the tree, pressing his back up against its hardness. Filligreen sank next to him. Her eyes mirrored the fear beating inside his own heart.
‘Only for a minute, Robbie.’
‘Yes, all right.’
She placed her head on his shoulder and a moment later, she was fast asleep. In the dim, fading light of the wood, he could just make out her face, unwrinkled, white as the snow on the mountaintops. With the tips of his fingers, he stroked her forehead and pushed back a strand of loose hair that had fallen across her cheek.
They would not survive till morning—he knew that. As evening drew nearer, waking ice-drakes and other monsters would start prowling and they’d soon be discovered. And did shrieks only hunt in the treetops? What manner of creatures were they anyway? He’d never seen anything so swift and so dangerous. Everything seemed terrified of them, a good indication that he and Filligreen should not venture up into the canopy again. Even if they did manage to elude all the dangers that night presented, daylight posed its own set of perils. Their dilemma was dire and terrifying.
Exhaustion prodded at his eyelids, dragging them down.
Sojourn...
His hands reached back and his fingers ran along the hard ridge of the cold root. As his eyelids drooped, he began to imagine he was one with it. His outstretched legs began to fuse with its hardness and grow up over the top of Filligreen’s body, creating a solid wall about her. His fingers laced together to form a tough, latticework dome all around them as they slept.
He gazed at Filligreen and imagined a white lily grown up in the hollow. Delicate, leaf-like petals folded over each other, lifted upon a single green stem, inviolate, kept safe—by him.
When he had finished imagining, he breathed in the earth. It was deep, rich and comforting as his body concaved into it. Almost at once, he held his breath as something large and predatory stalked nearby, sniffing about the roots of the tree. It had picked up their scent.
No need to fear.
The creature snuffled a while longer around the tree before it moved on. Robbie, too weary to stay awake any longer, fell into a troubled sleep.
Sometime later, his eyes snapped open in alarm. Something had woken him. Overhead, a chilling cacophony of sounds drifted through the treetops. Howling shrieks reached fever pitch. Their nearness brought his heart into his throat. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He glanced around at the gathering gloom. It was devoid of movement. But something did wake him!
Something triggered his memory and it all came rushing back—the imaginary wall and the lily...the hunting creature! Had his tired mind imagined the whole thing? Or could the magic in the wood allow one to hallucinate? He was aware of the odd taste in his mouth and tried to swallow, but his throat was so parched that no saliva was left in his mouth.
He looked at Filligreen as she stirred. Alarmed, she looked up at him. ‘We should get going. We are not safe here.’
‘I agree. But where can we go? Do you know any place where we can hide?’
There was a blank look on her face as she shook her head. ‘No, I am unfamiliar with this part of the wood.’
‘Then we really are in trouble.’
‘Let us just go.’
They struggled to their feet and Robbie followed her through the trees. The eerie howling of shrieks overhead was unnerving. He cast frequent glances towards the dark canopy. Anxious thoughts whirled inside his mind like circling carrion fowl.
Only Filligreen and he were left—everyone else was gone, perhaps dead. Where could they hope to find safety now—or help? The wood, too, was so dark he wasn’t certain if it was night or still day. Soon the ice-drakes would wake and they’d need magic to survive an encounter with them. Magic was something they didn’t have, nor did he wish to use it if he had. He gazed up through the dark tangle of tree limbs.
Morning Star, we desperately need your help. We won’t survive without it.
He reeled from all that had befallen them. A stealth of unpleasant thoughts paraded before him. He stumbled on with shaking muscles. He couldn’t remember when his head hadn’t ached this much. His mind felt hazy, too, like a bag of soggy wool. A steady throbbing in his temple had persisted all morning and had grown worse from the forced running. He was aware of queasiness in the pit of his stomach and sweat trickling down his face. Irritating insects buzzed around his face and eyes, seeking moisture.
What should they do now? Where could they go? Was Dougray even alive? How would he find—?
Something rough clamped across his mouth. Someone’s hand! Another seized his wrist in a firm grip. He beat wildly with his free hand until a hoarse whisper rasped in his ear.
‘Stop struggling, Robbie!’
Up ahead, Filligreen spun around, her face full of anger and fear. The ne
xt moment, a relieved smile curled on her lips and the hand was removed. Robbie whirled, stumbling back as he gasped.
‘Navarre!’
Chapter 4
The Dream
Dougray caught up with Gaylan at the bottom of the long, winding stairs. ‘You haven’t told us where we’re going.’
The Elf’s sharp eyes peered at him. ‘To the Retreat. Many have gathered there since the shrieks infiltrated the wood. Gendelthane is there also with his commanders. Navarre and the Alpin might be also. It is not far.’
They walked at a steady pace for the remaining distance. Gaylan and his men halted in front of a huge, open chamber with rounded walls which the roots had excavated centuries earlier. The chamber smelled earthy and dank, infused with a hint of rot.
Inside was a hub of activity. Elven soldiers were cleaning and oiling weapons and mending armour. Others were creating new weapons or preparing meals. Elves were washing themselves or their clothes with water from a stream that had found its way into a cavity in the ground. The sound of grinding wheels echoed against the rock walls as larger weapons were being sharpened.
A number of injured Elves were lying on stretchers at the rear of the chamber. Men and even some women were moving among them, attending to their needs. Falman, the Head Healer, was grinding medicines with a pestle and mortar at a makeshift table alongside three other Elves. A pile of green herbs lay on the table within easy reach as well as a book as long and as thick as his forearm.
At once they spotted Alysam’s massive figure crouched over one of the injured soldiers. At the same time, he looked up and spotted them. The Alpin hastened over and grasped Dougray’s arm in a firm grip. His golden eyes glowed with genuine relief at seeing him.
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