“Angst suggested that last night. It’s a good idea, but I don’t think they’ll leave. These people are frightened, and the idea of traveling is probably too much.”
“Well, consider my other suggestion, if you can convince everyone it will work,” Angst said as he stepped through the door into the brisk morning air.
“If that’s our only other option, I don’t think they’ll complain much.” Marissa followed them out of the inn and handed Angst a small bundle. “A bit of jerky for the trip. The marinade is a family recipe.” She gave Angst a hug. “When this is done, and everything is ‘fixed,’ you and Heather will have to come visit us.”
“You can count on it. Be careful, Marissa,” Angst said, smiling at his new friend.
Angst took the reins of his dark gray stallion from Manst and led it through the barricade opening.
Hector stood next to Angst as he mounted, looking back at Marissa. “What is it with you?” he asked, shaking his head.
“What?” Angst replied with all the innocence he could summon.
As they returned to the highway, Rose leaned over from Dallow’s horse to ask, “How many clothes did she have on when you were giving that advice?”
“As many as you have on when you and I spend time together,” Angst replied, playful yet sincere.
Hector and Tarness laughed as Rose reached over to slap his armor.
“There are a few in the town who can wield magic. I suggested they should be the ones to fight if any monsters return,” Angst answered Rose’s unasked question.
“Wait, you what?” asked Ivan in disbelief.
“What’s your problem now, Ivan?” Hector asked.
“First he gives them half our food then he tells them about your magics. Are you trying to get everyone killed?” Ivan looked like someone slapped him in the mouth, and his lips curled in disgust as he mouthed the word ‘magic.’
“I told them how to survive,” Angst snapped.
“Don’t you realize there are towns of people out here that hate you, all of you? They would rather see you hung than be saved by you.” Ivan shook his head in disbelief. “I, for one, don’t care to be killed for wielding magics.”
“Looks like we’re going to have to change some opinions, whether people like it or not,” Angst said with finality.
Ivan took off and separated himself, “leading” from so far ahead he was almost out of view.
Several hours later, Ivan stopped abruptly, practically jumping from his horse. He came out from behind bushes as everyone approached, his face pale and blotchy.
“Are you all right, Ivan?” Hector asked.
Ivan’s eyes grew large with desperation. He turned and bent over, emptying his stomach on the side of the road.
“I believe that was deserved,” Dallow said to Hector with a broad grin.
Ivan stood straight again, wiping his mouth. “Give me a minute before we continue.”
“Ivan, we can head back to Oakhaven or set up camp here. There’s no need...” Angst began.
Ivan merely shook his head and sat on a nearby stump. “I’m not sick. I don’t understand. My stomach isn’t in that much pain.” He eyed Angst warily. “This isn’t you, is it?”
“I wouldn’t know how,” Angst replied.
Ivan nodded, took a deep breath, and remounted. Without further explanation, he took off down the empty highway, riding ahead of the rest, once again almost out of view. Angst merely shrugged at everyone and followed, as there was nothing further they could do to help.
An hour later, Hector was the first to spot Ivan, lying beside his mount as though he’d fallen off. The group followed Hector as he rushed forward to see what had happened.
“Is he dead?” Rose asked, sounding hopeful. She corrected her tone and said more somberly, “is he dead?”
Hector and Dallow dismounted to check on the knight. Dallow removed Ivan’s helm to find his dark hair matted with sweat. Ivan’s eyes were open, and he was breathing, but his body was otherwise rigid as a statue.
“Nope,” Hector said, sounding not quite disappointed. He looked around the nearby woods, and then along the path. “No sign he was attacked. He’s got to be sick.”
Dallow’s eyes began to glow as he searched through the catalog of ailments in his head. “The symptoms don’t match anything I’ve read about. He’s not feverish, or cold, but he’s still sweating. I don’t understand why his muscles are locked up.”
“This doesn’t feel right at all,” Tarness said, gripping his reigns tightly.
Angst tilted his head, listening to Chryslaenor’s song. There was a subtle sense of urgency to it but nothing more. “Tarness, why don’t you and I ride ahead to check things out?”
“Do we have to?” Tarness asked, his tone was joking and almost completely covered a slight quaver.
They took off at a gallop. As they continued, the song grew louder, but there was no other indication of danger. Angst relaxed and was about to turn around when Tarness' horse reared in the wrong direction, smashing into his. Angst's horse neighed in panic as it tripped, collapsing before the edge of a twenty-foot cliff that had eaten the road.
In the end, the reins saved Angst. The sudden stop tossed him from the saddle as the horse toppled. Gripping onto the reins with strength that only comes from panic, he flipped over the cliff edge and crashed into the wall. The horse lay on its side, unable to get up with Angst hanging from the reins, and trying not to look at his pending fall.
Tarness was breathing heavily from the sudden burst of adrenaline. “Angst, I’m sorry, I just pulled the wrong way...” He stopped talking.
“Tarness? Tarness, are you all right?” Angst called while attempting to pull himself up. He hung there for a minute, wondering exactly what to do next. He looked up to see Tarness’s big black head, followed by his large arm reaching down, nearly blocking out his view of the sky. Tarness grabbed a handful of armor and effortlessly pulled Angst to safety.
“What just happened? I mean, thanks for pulling me up, but—” Angst began.
Tarness abruptly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face the cliff edge once more.
The thirty-foot wide chasm that cut through the road was amazing enough to warrant attention. It was as though a child had roughly dug into the ground with a stick, though, of course, this stick would’ve been the size of a house. Dirt along the chasm walls was dark and clumpy, as though never touched by rain or erosion. The most startling aspect of this freshly dug chasm was the orange ooze it contained. The gelatinous mass rippled and flowed like lava and smelled of sickeningly sweet honey mixed with maple syrup.
“I don’t understand. What is that?” asked Angst, absolutely dumbfounded.
Their attention was drawn to the other side of the chasm, where a fox chased a rabbit, or a rabbit attacked a fox. Angst couldn’t tell which was the predator or prey. Both creatures appeared disoriented as they came closer to their side of the gorge. They parried and tumbled in a strange and crazy dance until both ended up falling over the edge and into the orange syrup. Angst actually gripped Tarness’s arm as the ooze swallowed the rabbit and fox.
The animals soon resurfaced. A chill of horror washed over him as the fox and rabbit transformed. Both animals howled as their bodies seemed to be pulled and stretched like so much taffy. Within minutes, the fox appeared to give up, and sank back into the orange mass, lost forever. The rabbit also disappeared, but only for a moment before pulling itself out. It had grown to the size of a large mountain lion, with a longer torso and claws large enough to be seen from twenty feet away. It clawed and fought its way up the cliff before realizing it could still jump. The once-rabbit-creature leaped up and landed spryly on the solid ground. The fur had become scales, and bony protrusions stuck out from its elbows and knees. It turned to face them with bright red eyes before darting into the forest at an unfathomable speed.
“I think it’s my turn to throw up.” Tarness said, always a master of understatement.
Hector, Dallow, and Rose arrived fifteen minutes later. Angst had been kneeling at the cliff’s edge, and stood to face them.
“I think I figured out why we haven’t been getting any wheat,” Angst said in a mocking tone, thumbing the river of orange goop.
“You’re quite the genius,” Rose replied as they approached the edge of the chasm.
“Does this mean we can go home?” Dallow asked.
Hector merely gawked for a bit before turning to Dallow. “Any idea what it could be?”
Dallow reflected for a moment, consulting the vast compendium of information in his mind before shaking his head. “No.” The color in his eyes returned. “I’m saying no too often. I think I need to find more books.”
“I’ve been watching it for a while, and I’ve seen some things.” Angst stepped away from the cliff’s edge. “Animals don’t fall in, they charge in. It’s almost like they’re attracted to it. More than half have died, but those that survived...changed.”
“Into what?” asked Dallow, disbelief plain in his voice.
“Something else,” he said, turning around to stare at the ravine. “Monsters, creatures, I don’t even know what to call them. What I do know is, anything that crawls out of that soup comes out larger and meaner than when they entered.”
Rose and Dallow obviously didn’t believe him. They both rolled their eyes then glared at him impatiently.
“What? It’s true,” Angst said defensively. “This must be the stuff making all those monsters. The giant that had Rose, the others we’ve heard about. Probably the gamlin too.” It should have made sense after his explanation, but they appeared unimpressed. “Didn’t Tarness tell you?”
“Tarness is always the first one to support your pranks,” Rose pointed out.
“I’m not going to argue with either of you about this. I think that,” Angst pointed down into the chasm, “is what’s making Ivan sick. We need to move him away from this flowing muck before it does some permanent damage, or sucks him in.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Hector analyzed his face then looked back at the chasm. “It would explain a lot. Why aren’t we sick though?”
Angst closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed. “The animals I've watched take the orange bath are just animals, there is nothing magical about them.”
Dallow nodded slowly. “You think it’s because we are already magic.” Dallow considered this. “That would be plausible,” he said finally.
“You believe him now?” Rose asked, incredulous.
“I think I do.” Dallow’s voice became hopeful for a brief moment. “So we really are going home now?”
“Home?” Angst stared at Dallow for a long moment. “This is just the beginning. We need to find out where this stuff is coming from before more people get hurt.”
Hector put his hand on Angst’s shoulder. “Dallow is right, Angst. We need to report back to the queen, and let her decide the next step.”
Angst ripped his shoulder away. “No! No. It’s not enough. What are you going to report? ‘Angst found a river of orange syrup that changes animals into monsters.’” He stomped to his horse and mounted. “In case you three weren’t in Oakhaven, people are dying out here. I’m going to go strap Ivan to his horse, backtrack a couple of miles to get away from that stuff, then head north to find the source. I hope I don’t have to go alone.” Angst took off at a gallop, leaving Hector, Dallow, and Rose looking at each other awkwardly.
They’d been riding through the woods for several hours when dusk approached on the third night of their journey. The uncomfortable silence was only broken by Ivan’s delirious mumbling. Angst had taken lead in the beginning, and did his best to find smooth ground or the occasional deer trail, but guiding a group of travelers through unmarked woods was new to him.
Soon, Hector pulled ahead, muttering loud enough for Angst to hear, “We’ll never get there at this pace.”
Hector found a clearing before nightfall, and they scrambled to set up their tents and make a small fire. They ate a quiet meal of bread and cheese, a tense frustration hanging over the campsite like an oppressive fog.
“I’m not tired,” Angst declared. “I’ll take the first watch.”
When nobody replied, he stood slowly with a grunt and wandered to the edge of the circle cast by the firelight. Within minutes, he could hear Hector and Dallow arguing. What they said wasn’t clear, other than his name, multiple times. Guilt swelled up in his chest, and he longed to go back home, but deep down, he felt this was the right thing to do. He watched the woods about him while absentmindedly running fingers along his arms where there was a gap in his armor.
“Hey,” Rose said as she walked up behind him.
“Hey,” he replied, desperately grateful she’d joined him.
“Everyone hates you right now,” she said bluntly.
“I’m used to that.” Angst shrugged before realizing it was too dark to see the gesture.
“Dallow says he’s going home. I think he might head off tomorrow.”
“Dallow didn’t even want to come.” Angst sighed. “Don’t you see? Doesn’t anyone see? We have to fix this...this thing that’s happening. I don’t think anyone else can. We have a duty—”
“A duty to whom? A bunch of people who hate us? I think Dallow is right, that we should head back before someone ends up dead.” In spite of the desperation in Rose’s voice, Angst could tell she was torn.
“Some may hate us, but it’s still the right thing to do.” Angst looked out at the woods again and filled his lungs with the cool night air.
“Are you sure this isn’t for Marissa?”
“What?” Angst was taken aback by her question.
“Not Marissa specifically. Angst, you’ve always wanted to be a hero...a knight. You’ve always wanted the Marissas of the world to swoon at you and sigh longingly. Are you so sure that isn’t what you’re here for?” Rose hugged herself, shivering a bit.
Angst sighed again. “Maybe, Rose. Maybe you know me that well. And maybe I want to be a hero in everyone’s eyes. But I also know what’s right, and if we end up heroes, that just means we won.” Angst tried to make eye contact in spite of the dark. “Even if this is selfish, even if I’m doing it for my own selfish reasons, it’s still the right thing to do.”
“But at what cost? Are you willing to risk everyone’s life to become that hero?” She walked off with the last word, leaving Angst with that familiar nausea clawing at his belly.
22
As they made their way through the wooded terrain, color slowly bled from their surroundings like fresh paint washing away in the rain. The change was subtle at first, but gradually became disturbing when they finally entered Grayhollow Forest. Shades of gray seemed to coat everything, living or dead. Ten-foot wide tree trunks were wrapped in horizontal strips of papery pewter-colored bark. The forest floor was sparsely covered with decaying gray leaves and twigs; the dominant trees left little room for vegetation.
“What happened to my hair?” Rose asked, trying to pull bangs down in front of her eye. “It’s gray.”
“I ask myself that all the time,” Angst said with a grin.
“The leaves from these graymowl trees filter color from the sunlight. Some have theorized that the trees actually live off color,” replied Dallow, his thin lips smiling thoughtfully.
Rose shivered and leaned in closer to Dallow. “I don’t like it. Something about the lack of color just doesn’t feel healthy.”
“Most people don’t spend much time here,” Ivan said morosely. “I’d advise keeping quiet and riding fast so we don’t have to either.”
“It’s not too bad,” Tarness stated, ignoring Ivan. “The trees are large enough to block most of the wind, and the path ahead is free of
brush and hills.”
“The path to where?” Dallow asked, but nobody answered.
The gray seemed to reflect Angst’s mood. He felt alone amongst friends. After the argument, everyone had begrudgingly supported Angst and his decision to find the source of the orange ooze. Dallow had argued that there was no road to follow, Hector was concerned about rations, and Tarness wanted to know what they would do with unconscious Ivan. They sounded like weak excuses to Angst. They would follow the orange-filled chasm north and didn’t need a road. Hector and Tarness could hunt for food if necessary, and Ivan could be tied to his horse until he woke. In the end, Angst won, but the cost was tense silence and angry glares.
Ivan remained unconscious the entire first day’s ride. Angst had taken the lead once again, and guided Ivan’s horse with the knight strapped to it. That day, riding far enough ahead that he could barely be seen by his friends, Angst had found another obelisk in the woods that pointed to Gressmore Towers. He didn’t share the obelisk sighting with anyone, and circled back to change direction so they wouldn’t see it. There was something about the obelisks that felt like a personal message left for him. Chryslaenor’s song was relaxed and comforting as the blade glowed in the obelisk’s presence. Angst wanted to go to Gressmore Towers even though he knew that would only incite more arguing.
Ivan regained consciousness the second day, and was able to ride without being bound to his saddle. Angst attempted to use Ivan’s aches and pains as a gauge to stay away from the orange muck. But Ivan was a poor compass and worse company. Removed from the others, he took advantage of his captive audience and complained about everything. Every word that came out of his sniveling mouth made Angst’s teeth grind. He considered heading east once more, just to make Ivan faint.
“I think we’re getting too close,” Ivan warned, gripping his stomach.
“You said that thirty minutes ago, before deciding you needed something to eat,” Angst replied without pity.
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