The Eye of Tanglewood Forest (Haymaker Adventures Book 3)

by Sam Ferguson

  “Right then, let’s crack on, shall we?” Ziegler said. He pointed in the direction Jonathan had just come from and the trio quickly made their way alongside the river. Jonathan told them what he had found inside the cave so they wouldn’t waste time with it.

  They walked for nearly a mile before going around a large bend to the right. As they came around the other side, all three of them stopped.

  “This must be where the battle occurred,” Ziegler commented.

  The fast-paced river widened out in a vast expanse in this part of the canyon. Instead of being several hundred feet across, the river was at least a mile wide, if not more. It also appeared to slow its flow in this part. As for the canyon, it took on a drastically different appearance. It had been made of sheer cliffs where Jonathan had climbed down with the rope. At the bottom there were large, rocky beaches on either side of the river as well. Here, it looked as if something had blown a hole in the rocks and created a crater which had eventually allowed the river to pool and form a vast lake. A mess of jagged slopes and columns rose up to their right. The opposite side of the canyon seemed to match, with several columns sticking up like stone spears with clumps of trees growing from the tops, which protruding out of the water between the two sides.

  Some of the pillars were more worn down than others, showing narrow bases holding up impossibly thick columns. A few of them were joined at the top by a narrow strip of rock, but most were monoliths, all varying in height.

  “I don’t suppose the stranger told you where in the canyon to look, did he?” Jason asked.

  Jonathan shook his head. “He just said to go to Lysander’s Peril.”

  “I have an idea of where to look,” Ziegler said. “Remember, my brother planned to come here. He must have explained the route to me a hundred times. Stick close to me. We’re starting out on the right track though. The bottom of the western side of the chasm is where my brother said we would look when we made it here with our expedition. We’ll stick to our path and keep looking. He said that he suspected there would be some sort of large cave, or perhaps a monument of some kind somewhere along this side,” Ziegler insisted. They walked for another two miles, passing scores of massive monoliths, but never finding anything that stood out to them from everything else.

  It would be several hours before they would finally come to a place in the canyon where they saw anything of note worth checking out. At this particular juncture, one of the columns had toppled over, creating a sort of land bridge from the shore to a point near the middle of the river. At the other end, a much larger mound of stone rose out of the water. From where Jonathan stood, it looked as though there was a cave in the base of the stone mound, right where the fallen column stopped.

  The three of them wasted no time clambering up onto the bridge of stone and crossing over to the mound of orange stone. Jonathan could see water lines on the base of the mound, but they all stopped short of the cave entrance. If there was something to be found, this looked as good a place as any to find it. As they neared the end of the bridge, Jonathan had to jump a couple of feet to cross the gap left between the cave and the toppled column’s edge. It was an easy enough jump, but he made sure to inch up to the edge of the toppled column as far as he could before making the leap. He exhaled and smiled when he landed inside the cave, and then he moved aside so the others would have enough room to follow him.

  “Look at that,” Ziegler said as he pointed at the walls inside the cave.

  There were tally marks carved into the stone near the entrance. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of tallies. Beyond those there were other carvings. The marks were not as ornate as the writings of elves, but it appeared to be a language nonetheless.

  “Taish?” Jason asked as he pointed to the carvings.

  Ziegler shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “It looks different, like it’s… older.”

  “What’s older than Taish?”

  Jonathan moved close to a set of carvings and traced his finger along them. “What language would Lysander have written in?” he asked. “The stranger said that Lysander made carvings that would help us.”

  “I don’t see how we’re supposed to read this,” Jason said.

  “Who is it?” a gravelly voice shouted out, echoing in the cave.

  Ziegler and Jason pulled their swords. Jonathan stepped back from the wall and looked around. The cave went back for another ten yards from where they stood, and then it curved off to the right, disappearing behind a bend.

  “Who comes into my house? MY HOUSE!”

  A short, brown-skinned person with long, shaggy gray hair jumped out from behind the bend. He wore raggedy clothes that hung loosely from his form, but he was unarmed.

  Jason and Ziegler shared a look and then sheathed their swords.

  “We don’t mean any harm,” Ziegler called out as he patted the air with his hands.

  “Harm?” the person repeated in a puzzled tone. “HARM!? I’ll show you harm – get out! OUT!”

  “How long have you been here?” Jason pressed.

  The person took in a deep, loud breath and then blew it out through his lips. He reached up with bony hands and pulled the mess of hair away from his face and for the first time they were able to see what he was. A very old elf. They had seen older elves before, but never had they seen one with so many wrinkles, and skin so thin and leathery looking. A narrow, pointed nose stuck out in front of intense, deep blue eyes. His white eyebrows were drawn together in an angry knot as he wagged a finger at them.

  “You should not be here. You should not BE here! The crystal will harm you. Harm, yes, it will do much harm. Get out now. Get out.”

  “You know of the Astral Crystal?” Jonathan asked.

  The old elf’s blue eyes flashed angrily at him. “You can’t have it! Protect it I will. Together with the master!” The elf drew a design in the air and before any of them could react, Jonathan was hit by an invisible blast that sent him to the floor.

  Ziegler drew his sword, but Jonathan held out a hand to stay him. “I’m all right,” he said.

  “All right?” the elf echoed as he shuffled closer. “No, you are all wrong. Not all right. You all suck.”

  “Excuse me?” Ziegler said, the patience clearly gone from his voice and his sword ready to end the spectacle.

  “I said you all stuck!” the old elf huffed angrily.

  “That’s not what I heard,” Jason said as he cracked a smile. “I heard ‘you all suck.’”

  “I’m not stuck, you are all stuck! All of you!” the elf said angrily. “Get out! Get out of my house!”

  Jonathan brushed himself off and took a few steps toward the elf.

  “Not a good idea,” Ziegler cautioned.

  Jonathan thought otherwise. There was something in those blue eyes that spoke of a great intelligence. He couldn’t explain why he felt that way, but he was certain there was more to this elf than the crazed ramblings.

  “Did the master write these things on the wall?” Jonathan asked, pointing back to the many carvings in the stone.

  The elf glanced to the words etched into the rock and smiled for a brief second. “Yes, the master wrote it all down. Wrote everything down!”

  “Wrote what down?” Ziegler asked.

  The elf’s smile disappeared and he pointed angrily at Ziegler. “Not for you! None of it! Not you!”

  “My name is Jonathan,” the young warrior said in an attempt to calm the elf back down. “What’s yours?”

  “Name?” the elf said. “Demons don’t give names, it weakens them. Why give me your name?”

  “I am not a demon, I am a man,” Jonathan replied. “My name is Jonathan Haymaker. I come from Holstead, a farming village south of Tanglewood Forest.”

  “Jonathan Haymaker?” the elf repeated. He raised his right index finger and tapped his teeth with the long, curved fingernail. “Not a demon?”

  “That’s right,” Jonathan said. “I’m a man.”

  “
Oh shush!” the elf shouted. “Let me think. Let me…” the elf turned away and then straightened up a bit. “Aha!” he exclaimed as he turned back around. He pointed a finger at Jonathan and Ziegler moved in to take action, but Jonathan patted the air with his right hand.

  “You are not a demon,” the elf said. “You are a man, it is true.” The elf nodded, as if proclaiming some sort of judgment that carried significant weight. “You must leave, before the others come for you. They are here, always watching. Always watching.” He put his hands up to his eyes and pried his eyelids open with his fingers for emphasis. “They always watch this place.”

  “Who does?” Ziegler asked.

  “I don’t like him, make him shut up!” the elf told Jonathan.

  Jason started to laugh, but turned away and stifled it when Ziegler shot him an angry glance.

  “We are trying to find the Astral Crystal,” Jonathan said, hoping to take the elf’s focus off of Ziegler by directing the conversation. “Do you know where it is?”

  “The CRYSTAL!” the elf shrieked. “No, don’t touch it. Touch it and it will harm you! Master said don’t touch it!”

  “This is pointless,” Ziegler commented.

  “He’s talking again!” the elf squealed. “I don’t want him to talk!” The elf reached up and started scratching his left shoulder as he wrinkled his pointy nose and stared at Ziegler.

  “Who is the master?” Jonathan asked.

  The elf stopped scratching and sniffed his fingers before turning to Jonathan. “You don’t know the master? The master is the master.”

  “That clears it up,” Ziegler said.

  “Still TALKING!” the elf shouted. He weaved his fingers in the air and a blue symbol appeared before him. A moment later, Ziegler was trapped in a translucent cone. The large man was shouting and banging on the cone with his fists, but Jonathan couldn’t hear anything Captain Ziegler was saying.

  “He’s my friend,” Jonathan said, turning with some alarm to the crazed old man.

  The elf looked to Jonathan with wide, blue eyes, and his mouth fell open. “He is your friend?” he asked.

  Jonathan, thinking that the elf was talking about Ziegler, nodded. “He is a very dear friend of mine. We work together—”

  “YOU work with the MASTER!” the elf shouted. Before Jonathan realized what was happening, the elf was dancing about and singing in a strange language.

  Jonathan was about to correct the elf, but Jason was at his side in an instant, leaning in close and whispering. “You better make this angle work quickly. If we don’t get what we came for and release Ziegler, he’s going to skin us.”

  The elf turned around and clapped his hands together. “This is wonderful, WONDERFUL! Come, I must show you. Come with me. Quickly now!”

  Jonathan and Jason started to follow the elf around the curve, but then the elf turned around and arched a brow at Jason.

  “You stay. He works with the master, not you. He will follow, not you.”

  “Jonathan can you kindly ask our host if…” Jason began.

  “I said NOT YOU!”

  “He is my brother,” Jonathan said. “He works with us too.”

  “I am not caring about that!” the elf said as he crossed his arms. “He say I suck. I not suck. Your brother is crude. He stays.”

  “I didn’t say that!” Jason argued. “I said that you—”

  “I am not caring!” the elf shouted.

  “It’s all right. I’ll go. You stay and keep an eye on Ziegler,” Jonathan said.

  Jason glanced back at the fuming man who was still beating the inside of the magical cone. “I think I’d rather take up smoking in front of Memaw.”

  “No more TALKING!” the elf shouted. He pointed to Jonathan. “You come, come friend of the master. I will show you. I have not failed. No, no, I have not forgotten. It’s still here. It’s safe. Yaen has protected it.”

  Jonathan followed the old elf around the corner and was surprised to see a set of stone stairs leading upward. The hallway curved slightly in a clock-wise fashion as they made their ascent up several yards. The elf was happily chattering to himself, but Jonathan was noting the tally marks carved into the walls in the stairway as well. He assumed they were to mark the passing of time, but he saw no reason for the elf to remain in this stone dwelling. There was nothing outside keeping him here. Additionally, he saw more words carved above the tally marks.

  “What does the writing say?” Jonathan asked.

  “Yaen will tell you everything you need to know,” the old elf said. “Just be patient. Must get to the safe room. Yes, the watchers will not be listening to us in the safe room. Come, come, I will show you. Yaen has not failed.

  They came to a strange landing and the elf stopped. He started working his fingers in front of him, but Jonathan couldn’t see what he was doing. Beyond the elf were more stairs leading upward.

  Jonathan sighed, hoping that the elf’s lucidity was not fading away yet.

  “You said you have it?” Jonathan said in an effort to prompt the elf.

  “Yes, yes, I have it still. We who work with the master must always do as he says.” The elf continued to work with his fingers in the air, drawing intricate patterns, but producing no symbols.

  Then, as the elf finished his magic, the stairway beyond the landing started to shift and swing away as if on hinges. Jonathan gaped at the sight as the stairs upward came to rest on the outer wall.

  “How can they lead upward, wouldn’t that go outside if they faced that way?” Jonathan asked.

  “Old magic,” the elf said. “We don’t want these stairs. They only lead up. We want to go here.” The elf pointed straight ahead. Jonathan now saw a large, flat hallway leading straight out from the landing where the stairs had just been.

  “The stairs lead up to where?” Jonathan asked.

  “Just up,” the elf replied. “Come on, it’s here. Still here.” The elf walked through the hallway and Jonathan followed. There were more tally marks on the walls. In this part of the stone dwelling they covered every available inch of stone.

  “How long have you been here?” Jonathan asked.

  “Since master left,” the elf replied. “He was harmed too, but the master escaped. The master always escapes.”

  “Harmed by what?” Jonathan asked.

  The elf turned around and his eyes bore the same crazed look they had earlier. “HARMED!” he shouted. “Harmed by the crystal. The crystal harmed us all. Well, not Jaeger, no never Jaeger. Jaeger was far away when the crystal harmed us. Drenylin had the crystal in his hands. It harmed him. Killed him. I was close, too close. It harmed me too!” The elf reached up and pulled his hair back to show a jagged, puckered mass of purple flesh atop his head. The scar was both hideous and intriguing at the same time, but at least Jonathan now had some sort of understanding about the elf’s state of mind.

  “But the master lived,” Jonathan said, trying to calm the elf down.

  “Of course the master lived,” he said. “The master is Icadion’s son. The son of a god. Of course he lived. Yaen lived too, but it harmed Yaen. The master got better. The master escaped, but not Yaen. Yaen is still here. Still here.”

  “That’s right,” Jonathan said. “Still here protecting it, remember?”

  The elf nodded. “Yaen still has it, oh yes. Yaen never fails the master. Come, I will show it to you.”

  The rage left the elf’s eyes and the two walked to the end of the hall. Jonathan was caught off guard at first by the dead end, but then he saw the elf starting to work with his fingers again.

  “Old magic,” the elf said. “Yaen is good with tricks.”

  Jonathan nodded and smiled, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to risk setting the elf off again.

  A few moments passed and then the rock wall in front of them dissolved to reveal a round chamber. Inside was a long slab of stone that Jonathan assumed was some sort of bed or table, or perhaps both. An old wool blanket was neatly folded
on one end of the slab. A tattered backpack leaned against the base. Otherwise the room was bare.

  Jonathan looked around, but there were no books, no clothes, not even windows. He spun around, realizing for the first time that there were no torches either. No torches and no windows, and yet the room was as bright as if they were standing outside.

  “Where does the light come from?” Jonathan asked.

  “From the master,” the elf replied quickly. “The master gave me his light before he left. He helped me see.”

  The elf walked to the stone slab and slapped it three times with the flat of his right palm.

  The stone slid aside and the elf bent down behind it.

  Jonathan watched as the elf came up with a bundle in his arms. Unlike the blanket and the backpack in the room, the cloth bundle appeared to be made of new fabric, for it showed absolutely no wear or tear whatsoever.

  “Here it is,” the elf said happily as he reverently laid it upon the stone. He unfolded the green fabric to reveal a brown bow. It was simple in design, but Jonathan could feel a power emanating from it.

  “Lysander’s bow,” Jonathan whispered.

  “His NAME!” the elf shouted angrily. “You cannot mention the master’s name here. Not HERE!” the elf stamped his feet angrily and wagged his finger at Jonathan. “Those who watch are also listening! Always LISTENING!”

  “I’m sorry,” Jonathan said quickly. “The master didn’t warn me about that. Besides, we’re in the safe room, right?”

  “You don’t work with the master,” the elf said suddenly. The rage came back into his deep blue eyes and he locked his stare onto Jonathan. “You’re a thief, like the others. A THIEF!”

  “No, no!” Jonathan said as he put his hands out in the air. “I’m not a thief. I came here to get the bow so that we can find the Astral Crystal.”