Keepers of the Western Forest

by Chris Kennedy

  Chapter 16

   

  On the evening of the second day after Broderic had left the castle, Darin said good night to his mother and made his way to his chamber in the west wing. He set his candle in the bracket on the wall by his bedside, threw off his clothes and crossed the room to the window at the other side.

  The days of idleness spent waiting for his father to return from visiting his various tenants were beginning to tell on him. He was restless. He kept thinking about the mysterious axe and how he had sworn to find it. His father had told him what he knew: it had belonged to Bertilak the sorcerer, who had carried it when he appeared as the Green Knight. Bertilak had foretold that one day it might play a crucial part in the battle for Logres, but Karman had been unable to find out anything about its whereabouts. His only interest now was in resuming his responsibilities as lord of the Western Forest; he wished his son well in his quest.

  The night air was cool on Darin’s face and chest. He gazed out over the trees, hunched together in the fast fading light, imagining himself standing down there in the fragrant darkness beneath the brooding boughs, hearing the nocturnal life of the forest awakening around him. An owl’s wavering note sounded twice, like a challenge, daring him to venture further into the depths of the sacred woods. Stella was out there somewhere.

  He sighed and went across to the bed. After snuffing out the candle, he lay on his back for a while, looking at the few faint stars visible through the tall, narrow casement. Were there really other worlds out there, just like this one? When Stella had told him about them on that magical night in the forest, he had laughed at the idea; now he knew what she really was, he had to wonder. He sighed again and turned over on his side.

  His limbs were heavy and he had eaten a hearty supper with his mother, so it was not long before sleep came. But it was not an easy sleep. Fragmented visions of woodland glades and rocky places flashed before his eyes, while distant voices, muttering in some outlandish tongue, troubled his dreaming spirit. Now he was pursuing a hooded figure that fled before him down an endless corridor resembling the great gallery in the oldest part of the castle, but at the same time seeming to be a long avenue of trees that formed cathedral-like arches high above his head.

  “Yes, there are indeed other worlds, and they will seek you out!” said the hooded stranger who was suddenly walking at his side.

  Darin woke up abruptly, fighting for breath. A great weight was pressing down on his chest; he felt something cold against his neck. He was lying on his back again and someone was sitting astride him. He grunted and struggled, trying to throw off his assailant, but the visitor leaned forward, pressing the flat of his knife against Darin’s throat. As he did so, his head and shoulders crossed the narrow beam of moonlight that came from the window.

  Darin froze; the hairs of his head stood on end. He lay there, paralysed with fear and something altogether more strange, looking up at the face revealed in the shaft of silver light, much as a field mouse, in the iron grip of merciless talons, might stare into the ancient eyes of infinity an instant before the curved beak did its cruel work.

  The face he saw in the moonlight was his own. Every feature, every detail, was the same. He tried to speak, to cry out, but found himself unable to utter a sound or make even the slightest movement; the eerie vision of his own countenance leering down at him seemed to drain him of all willpower, of his very faith in his own existence.

  The intruder sneered. “Hah, it’s true then,” he said in a cracked whisper. “Just as my lady foretold!” He gave a hoarse laugh. “One glimpse of my face and you’re helpless as a baby. What do you make of that, young sir?” The mocking laugh came again. “How think you now, what am I? An apparition? Some jealous twin? Your own conscience bothering you, perhaps? I’ll leave it for you to work out.”

  He took his knife away from Darin’s throat, but brought his face down closer.

  “Don’t you worry, my pretty lad,” he hissed. “I’m real enough and I’m here to work your ruin! When I have done what I must do, I’ll be back to amuse myself with you some more!” Now he leaned back. “The sins of the father will be visited upon the son,” he pronounced in a hollow voice. He jumped up, stood for a moment by the bedside and then he was gone.

  After a few seconds, Darin found himself able to move again. He sat up and peered about him, then got up and walked around the room. The door stood ajar, but he could not remember whether he had closed it before going to bed or not. Other than that, he could discover nothing to suggest there really had been an intruder in his bedchamber. His mind recoiled from the idea that any real person could resemble him so absolutely. It must have been a phantom, or just a part of his dream.

  He stood by the window looking out over the moonlit forest and put his hand to his throat. The knife had felt real enough, though. If only Broderic were here. But no—despite being the author of several hopelessly romantic ballads, Broderic prided himself on his clear-sightedness and had little time for old wives’ tales and superstitions. Darin suspected that his friend’s impatience with all stories of supernatural encounters or magic in any form was in fact rooted in a deep-seated fear of such things. He would be of no help to him now. Nor was he about to destroy his mother’s newfound happiness with Karman by frightening her with his story. Had she herself not once told him about the old belief that when a man sees his own likeness walking to meet him he is certain to die soon after?

  He dressed himself quickly in doublet and breeches, groped his way along the corridor and stole out of the little postern at the end of the wing. The moon hung low in the western sky, giving him enough light to find his way to the stables. He would start east right away. Dart would have no problem with the familiar part of the forest if they went carefully and daylight would come in an hour or so.

  There was only one person he could think of who might possibly be able to shed any light on this uncanny business—Stella.