‘I was afraid you would not make it. It seems Wyrm Wood is overrun by these demon shrieks. Indeed, it seems the world has fallen into chaos.’ He gave Dougray and Belle a tentative smile before glancing about. ‘Is Robbie not with you?’
A cold pit opened up inside Dougray. It was not what he wanted to hear.
Belle answered for him. ‘No. He is not here either?’
Alysam shook his shaggy head. Untrimmed, his brown hair had grown thick, and unkempt curls had strayed across his broad shoulders like a mass of heavy springs. He looked more like one of the wild mountain lions than a man from the land of Alpinia. He wore no shoes and no clothes other than hides that covered his midriff.
A moment later, Dewleaf rejoined them, still looking anxious. ‘Filligreen is not here, but some remember her coming back, as Silvani said.’
Belle glanced in the direction of the king, who sat with his generals at a rough table poring over maps and scrolls. ‘Maybe we could ask Gendelthane. Perhaps he’s seen them—or Navarre.’
Beside the king sat white-haired Amran, his personal adviser, whose blue eyes were so pale and translucent they appeared almost white. Dougray recognised the hard-looking Dancen, the Armoury Commander, with his black patch on his left eye, his bare arms scarred from the forge fires. Some fresh, red welts had appeared since Dougray last saw him.
The Captain of the King’s Guard, Ithaniel, sat beside him, sharp-eyed and watchful. Blade-thin and well-muscled with an armoury of weapons strapped about him, he was first to glance up as they approached the king. Gendelthane’s older General of the Army, Sirian, was also present. His eyes were chips of cold ice that stared at them out of a tanned, battle-scarred face.
With a genuine look of concern, Gendelthane rose to meet them. ‘My friends, I am glad you made it. You will be safer down here. The shrieks cannot penetrate the thickness of the roots, but the city above is...well,’ he sighed and motioned to them to join him at the table. ‘Come, we will discuss what can be done.’
Dougray didn’t move. ‘Robbie isn’t here. Neither is Filligreen, or Navarre. They’re still up there. We need to go and find them before it gets dark.’
Gendelthane’s stern eyes flashed at him. ‘Easily said than done. Let me first tell you what we know of these demons. Many of my men are out scouring the city, but not all will return. Since the shrieks have arrived, dozens have been killed and many wounded.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Those who are wounded—even from the tiniest scratch—still manage to die. The demons’ claws are poisonous. Not even Falman, my Head Healer, has been able to find a cure.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘Trisian, my son, has not returned either. No one has seen him or his detachment of soldiers since he went out this morning. So, Rafem, it seems that we are all in the same basket without a winch.’
The weather worsened and through gaps in the canopy, the sky looked like charcoal. Thunder shook the trees, sending spits of rain down to dampen Robbie’s hot face. Bursts of sudden lightning flashed before him as he marched behind Navarre. Then the heavens tore open with a thunderous crack and torrential rain drenched them in minutes.
Navarre faced him and Filligreen, his face dripping with water. ‘The Beginning is too far away. We shall shelter for the night in a cave not far from here.’
Robbie hunched inside his wet clothes as he trudged on, each step dragging like a weight of iron. Long minutes slipped behind them and Robbie tried to concentrate on the journey. Navarre alone seemed to know the way and kept to a distinct path; he and Filligreen followed like two lost children, trusting in his leadership.
Tassie, the emerald cat, bounded before them on silent feet, an elusive jewel that neither Robbie nor Filligreen could see very well. He began to understand why the Healer chose such a creature to accompany him when he was alone in the wood. Tassie was much more than just a tamed cat. It acted as watchdog and guide, an intelligent animal that could sense perils swiftly, as well as the nuances of its master. The Healer would sometimes whisper to it as they moved through the trees, his hand dropping to caress the emptiness at his side where a twitching tail would materialise. A loud, throbbing purr would hum through the air. Tassie often walked by the Healer’s side.
Moving through the boggy ground was a strain that taxed Robbie’s already weakened leg muscles. The stench of the rot as he tramped through the muddy ground filled his nostrils and soured his stomach. Tree trunks were soft and black. Everything was dying because of it. How he longed for the open spaces and fresh air!
The cold rain continued, chilling him to the bone. Shivering and exhausted, his mind began to stray. He imagined seeing dark, shaggy creatures among the foliage, creatures that pursued them and hungry, wicked eyes watching them from the shadows. Uncertain if they were real or not, he would pause to rub his eyes. Dark despair racked him, its malicious voice taunting in the back of his mind. All that was once good is gone! Your destiny lies under your feet like decay. You will die, like all the rest.
The journey became a blur as a fever settled over him like a hot blanket. He said nothing as his unwilling legs trailed behind Filligreen and Navarre, two silent shadows out in front.
‘Here we are.’
The sound of Navarre’s voice made him halt and lift his head. They had arrived at a great tumble of rocks that barred their way. Surely he wasn’t expecting them to—?
The Healer grasped his arm. ‘Come on, Robbie. There is water on the other side, and a cave where we can spend the night. It is not too high, but we must climb.’
Navarre grasped the rocks and went up first. Tassie’s sleek body appeared in tantalising shades of deep green before she camouflaged herself. She, too, climbed with them.
Robbie reached for the rocks, hauling himself up. His muscles screamed, but he pushed on, dragging himself higher, scraping hands and knees on the sharp rocks. Halfway up, lethargy threatened to cripple his resolve, but somehow he struggled on.
Gasping for breath, he found himself blinking at a curtain of white water that cascaded down from the rocks above. Behind it loomed a black, jagged hole. Navarre’s cave. Robbie staggered to his feet and stumbled forward, cupping his hands under the wash of soft, falling water, drinking until his stomach ached. Beside him, Filligreen looked exhausted as she, too, drank. Concern filled her eyes as she looked at him. They followed Navarre inside the cave.
Lost in darkness behind them was Wyrm Wood, along with the howling shrieks and all its other hidden perils. For now, at least, they were safe. The steady cadence of the waterfall hid them behind its white, filmy wall. Outside, the wood brooded.
Robbie collapsed on the icy rock floor of the cave. He was dimly aware of Filligreen as she crouched beside him, her cool hand on his face. Her eyes misted with concern.
‘Wyrmgaldere, he is burning up with a fever.’
Navarre’s narrow, dark eyes studied him. A cold hand brushed back his hair and felt his forehead. Robbie didn’t hear what he said. The hollow sound of the waterfall crashed against the walls of his mind. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep well of dreams.
He was standing in a field of waist-high grass, but he was not alone. He sensed a presence and turned around. A tall man in a white robe with long, silver hair stood there.
The man shone!
Not just his face or hair, but his clothes shone, too. Glinting at his throat was a large, white stone on a shining, silver chain that drew Robbie’s gaze. Something scratched at the back of his mind. Rumoured tales at the inn at Wyfrenvale had circulated by those who had claimed to have seen this same figure. Now those memories, those same tales he had relegated to the place of myths and legends, stirred inside him as he stared at the man. Could this really be—the Morning Star?
Without taking his eyes off him, the man smiled. ‘Yes, that is my name, but I am known by many names in your world. I have much to tell you before you wake, and time is growing shorter each day.’
Unafraid, Robbie swallowed the lump that seemed stuck in his throat and stepped toward
s him—towards the Morning Star himself! The man placed his hand on Robbie’s shoulder. The gentleness of those eyes held Robbie in a trance.
‘You know me.’
Robbie nodded.
‘I am the way, the truth and the life. No man can come to me unless I draw him as I’ve drawn you, Robbie, now at the end of all Time.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Let me tell you what has been happening. Because of your courage, some of the lands have shaken off the untaming magic and are enjoying their freedom. Sadly, it will not last long. They will still fall into darkness...unless Morgran is destroyed. He has beguiled the kings and queens for too long. Except for a handful of my faithful ones, almost all of them have fallen under his dark enchantments.
‘His magic corrupts absolutely and there are dire consequences for using it. The land groans because of it and the rot. Morgran is dark matter and there is no light in him. His sorcery has become much too powerful.’
‘But Rafem can defeat him.’
With a sad look in his eyes, the Morning Star shook his head. ‘He cannot defeat him—not by himself. That is where you must help—’
Robbie’s eyes flickered open. Firelight glimmered around the cave walls and there was silence. Wrapped about his body for warmth was Navarre’s cloak. For a moment, he didn’t move as the dream faded.
Like a seed nestled inside him, the Morning Star had left a knowing that in days to come Robbie would call the haunting. It embodied a picture of the task he had been given, but he had no idea how he was to achieve it.
Chapter 5
Navarre’s Cave
Alysam had wandered back to tend the sick, leaving Dougray and Belle sitting alone on a rock beside the stream. Belle removed one of her knives from around her belt and began to hone the blade on a borrowed whetstone. From time to time, she applied gentle pressure across the blade with her thumb, testing its sharpness. Satisfied, she slipped it back into her sheath and started on another knife. She had at least five on her belt to sharpen that he could see. Dougray grew tired of watching her and glanced around the chamber. Everyone seemed to have a purpose—except him.
It was difficult waiting for news of Robbie’s whereabouts. In the depths of his heart, he held no optimism for his brother’s survival—not this time. With his own eyes, he’d seen how swift and formidable the shrieks could be. Without armour or weapons, no one could withstand them. His pacifist brother rarely ever carried a knife. Dougray didn’t want one of the Elves to bring him a scrap of bloodied cloth for him to identify.
A little over three hours ago, Dewleaf had donned chainmail, taken his lance in hand and had gone up with five volunteers in search of his sister. Gendelthane had denied Dougray and Belle the same liberty. He had ordered them to remain until Dewleaf returned, perhaps with news. But several hours had passed since their departure. He gave a heavy sigh and stared at the sinuous reflections on the curved wall made by the slow-moving stream.
‘What are you thinking?’
He glanced across at Belle, who was watching him. ‘That perhaps we should head off.’
She placed the whetstone down and gave him her full attention. ‘You think they are dead?’
He turned away from the accusatory look in her eyes, but then pointed his finger at her. ‘You saw what the shrieks can do, Belle! Don’t tell me you haven’t had the same thought because I won’t believe you if you say it!’
Slipping her knife into its sheath, she frowned at him, at the unexpected anger in his voice. ‘Have you forgotten how he disappeared in Gardenia and was later found by Tisser? Or when he went after the black dragon and disappeared in its lair only to walk out by himself?’
‘No Belle, I haven’t forgotten!’ Some nearby soldiers had stopped what they were doing and were staring in their direction. ‘But this is different! The shrieks have overrun the treetops and you saw how fast and deadly they are. Even if Robbie and Filligreen managed to make their way down into the forest, they still had to face the ice-drakes. You know Robbie has no magic to fight them, and nor does he carry any weapons.’
Belle stared at him as if she didn’t know what to say. Her green eyes swam with tears. Upon seeing them, he rose and limped away down the corridor. He found the winding staircase that he had been warned not to use first by Gaylan and then by Gendelthane. He sat down on the bottom step with his head in his hands. He glanced up when several passing Elves with fresh scars from recent encounters peered at him. He carried his scars deep inside.
Where are you Robbie? Are you… still alive?
His own eyes had begun to moisten when the sound of boots behind him made him peer up the stairs. A detachment of Elven soldiers appeared out of the shadows. At once, their leader spotted him.
‘Out of the way!’
Dougray leaped to his feet and moved aside as a dozen Elves hastened towards him. Armour spattered with blood, they lumbered past carrying a stretcher upon which lay an unconscious soldier with an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Dougray peered at the white face covered in blood. His armour had been slashed and a makeshift bandage across his chest was bleeding through.
It was Trisian, the king’s son!
Robbie pushed himself onto his elbows. The cave spun queasily and he sank back down. Filligreen appeared beside him, a mixture of relief and anxiety mirrored in her eyes. She clutched his hand.
‘How do you feel?’
He gave her a weak smile. ‘All right, I guess. How long have I been asleep?’
‘Most of the night. You were burning up with a fever. Wyrmgaldere built a fire to keep you warm. I am glad he did; it has been cold.’
He frowned. ‘He is indeed a magician if he managed to light the wet wood.’
She pointed to the back of the cave where a pile of wood was stacked. That was when he noticed a long knife on the ground beside her. Navarre must have left it for protection.
‘He already had kindling here,’ she said, ‘as well as other things. This is his cave. He comes here sometimes, to think.’
‘Is that what he said?’ He looked around. At the rear of the cave was a bag bulging with objects that looked hard and sharp. His gaze drifted to the waterfall. It was a comforting wall against the harsh reality without. ‘Where is he?’
‘He went to look for food. That was about an hour ago.’
‘Don’t worry, Filligreen. He knows Wyrm Wood really well...and he has Tassie with him.’
A scraping sound on the rocks outside made her leap to her feet, grabbing the knife from the ground. With heart racing, Robbie struggled to stand as she faced the cave entrance. Something was climbing the rocks outside. Filligreen held the knife before her. Just then, a green streak bounded in on four paws, followed by Navarre.
Filligreen’s shoulders sagged and a groan of relief left her lips. The hand holding the knife fell to her side. Navarre looked at Robbie as he dumped a bag on the ground and shook the rain from his long hair.
‘I see you have returned to the land of the living.’
Still weak from the fever, Robbie sat down beside the fire. ‘Thanks—’ He didn’t know what to say.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Hungry mainly.’
‘You have probably not eaten for quite some time. Things happened fast once the shrieks were let loose. We shall soon fix that.’
‘What are the shrieks, Wyrmgaldere?’
He glanced at Filligreen. ‘Demons from the Abyss. Morgran sent them to clear the Elves from Wyrm Wood. That is my guess. And possibly as retaliation for harbouring Rafem.’ He rummaged through the bag, dragging out some long, yellow root vegetables and a branch laden with small red berries. He tossed those to Robbie and Filligreen. ‘Eat these while I cook the vegetables.’
Robbie frowned. ‘But...why does he want to clear the Elves from the Wood?’
‘Not just remove them; destroy them altogether. Any kingdom or race of people that are still free, he will try to subjugate under his tyranny, or destroy them. That is who he is—a tyrant, who needs the worship o
f the populace.’
Filligreen sat beside the fire staring at him. ‘But where will my people go if we cannot live among the trees?’
Navarre washed the dirt off the root vegetables under the waterfall. ‘For now, into the Beginning.’
Robbie swallowed some of the berries. ‘What if he discovers the Beginning?’
Navarre looked grim, as if that thought had already occurred to him. ‘In time he will. Those unfortunate Elves he can capture, he will torture and interrogate to discover where your people are hiding.’ His dark eyes looked at Filligreen. ‘That is what he does.’
The Elf girl’s lips quivered with emotion. ‘Then we must flee the wood and wander the plains like vagabonds.’
‘Filligreen, it has not happened yet,’ Navarre pointed out. ‘Morgran will not win this battle, certainly not as long as I have breath in my body.’
Robbie reached out and took her hand in his. It was cold. ‘And you also have my brother, who is Rafem. Navarre is right. Morgran cannot win.’
Navarre wandered to the bag at the rear of the cave and removed a metal pan. He placed the vegetables in it and added water. After he placed it on the coals and stoked the fire around it, he sat back, missing nothing as his gaze passed over their clasped hands.
‘So, Filligreen, you returned to be with Robbie.’
‘What is wrong with that?’ she asked.
Navarre shrugged, as if it was none of his concern. ‘You know the laws of your people better than I do. You already know what Dewleaf will say, and also Gendelthane.’
She was silent and looked at Robbie with teary eyes. He took a deep breath and answered for her. ‘It’s not what you think, Navarre. We know our worlds are too different for anything to come of us.’
Navarre crossed his legs at the ankles. ‘For both your sakes, I am glad you know that, Robbie.’
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