by Matthew Wolf
Elisaria saw the look in his eyes, but she shook her head and looked to return the stone, pushing it back into his hands. “I…”
“Rydel. My name is Rydel,” he said. “Please, Elisaria. Please do this for me.”
Tears formed in her eyes and she tried to wipe them away. “Rydel… Please don’t do this. You’re going to your death. You know that, don’t you? I can’t be a part of this. If not delivering the stone means you stay, I’ll throw it in the deepest lake and let none find it. Then you can tell her yourself.”
Everything inside of him hurt, and Rydel shook his head. “I can’t. You don’t understand. I… Even this small allowance is breaking every code inside of me as a Hidden.”
“Damn the Hidden! You are more than just your code, aren’t you? Don’t you want to live?” She grabbed his hand, cupping it to her face. “Temptations, life. You don’t even realize what you’re missing. People care about you. I care about you. You don’t need to throw it away for him.”
Rydel looked into her eyes and Trinaden’s words returned, sinking into him. You are more. You can save the world. Then the man’s other words: don’t get too close. You are a blade too sharp to hold. But Rydel pushed those words aside. With his thumb, he brushed away Elisaria’s tears and smiled. “I’m not sure what I am, or what my final destiny is, and I’m not doing it for him. This is for me. I don’t know how to explain it, and I know it may seem a fool’s errand, but I know that I have to do this. I’m sorry…” he said, and meant it.
Elisaria summoned a tearful smile as if seeing the resolute look in his eyes. “Stubborn fool.”
“You haven’t answered,” he said with a wry smile she couldn’t see behind his mask.
She released a shaky breath and nodded, her grip tightening around the small stone.
“I… have to go.”
Elisaria grabbed his hand. Hers was strong and rough across the pads as well, but her slender fingers were dwarfed by his own. Rydel felt his heart hammering as he looked back at her. Glowing by the soft candlelight, her face was as stunning as ever—her lips parted slightly as she reached out and touched his mask. He caught her hand, stopping her.
“I…” How did he tell her? He hadn’t let anyone see his face in years. Elisaria paused, then slowly continued—the look on her face was gentle, caring, vulnerable—and this time, he didn’t stop her. Deftly she untied it and let his black mask slip away to reveal his face. He watched her expression, curious. Elisaria’s chest rose and fell, breath quickening as she looked at him. A good sign, he supposed.
“I’m not so hideous then?” Rydel asked, smirking.
“Great Spirits,” she breathed, her covers slipping down as her grip went loose, and Rydel—his heart thundering—took her, pulled her close and kissed her deeply, drinking her in. The world swam, time faded as he felt her soft lips pressed against his, felt her tongue exploring his; her body against his, he lost himself to her with the passion of knowing tomorrow may never come.
When she was asleep, he left in the deep night, slipping away—too silent for the sentries, or even for the creatures of Eldas as he made his way back to Master Trinaden’s little hut.
In the morning, they found themselves in a clearing just before the tree line of the Drymaus Forest. A lone tree sat in the clearing as if the only thing brave enough to venture close to those shrouded woods; and even it was shriveled and branchless—naked and afraid, quivering its leaves free at what horrors lay within. With his brothers at his side, Master Trinaden addressed them grandly, arms crossed before his chest, “Today you will learn the final code of the Hidden and pass the last of my tribulations. If you survive, you will gain the title of Hidden, if not you will die a warrior’s death. However, you will not have the final passing rites of an elf. None will watch you pass or carry your body to the Great Spirit.”
“What must we do?” Rydel asked, fear pumping in his veins. He tried to still it and was proud his voice was clear and strong.
“You must enter, find the Hidden Pool, and return with a vial of its sacred water.”
The Hidden Pool… Rydel had read about it in a few child’s fables. It was a pool in the center of Drymaus Forest. The pool sat at the entrance of what many considered the darkest and forbidding area of Drymaus. Legends said the most terrible of creatures existed there. That it was the home of the dragons…
“Is it true, Master?” Dryan asked. “It exists? They exist?”
“I cannot speak of what lives within Drymaus Forest. That is for you to find out, but your objective is simple: find the Hidden Pool and return with proof, alive. The water, as you know, is said to hold magical properties that can heal even the most egregious wound. Return with it and you’ve passed the final test. Do this and you have achieved the rank of Hidden. This is a task for you alone. You may be brothers, but to be a Hidden, means to be alone.”
“Alone? We can’t do this together?”
Master Trinaden shook his head. “No. One of you will begin your journey here, at the southern entrance. The next two shall travel with me and I’ll deposit you further along, far enough away that your paths will not cross unless you find the heart of the forest.”
Alone… Rydel had hoped at least he’d have his brothers. Now his fear grew greater still, but he mastered it, seeing the brave looks on Dryan and Hadrian’s faces and knew they were thinking the same thoughts.
Master Trinaden paused, his craggy features growing with concern. Rydel only realized now how his master had aged. The stern-face, never an especially young elf, now bore the signs of time—finer lines splayed at the corners of his eye and mouth. The crease between his furrowed brow had deepened significantly. Though he wore the age with dignity and his usual intimidating air, still… Rydel had always thought their lives were the only sacrifice, now he realized the toll it had taken on Trinaden. His master had given nearly twenty years of his life, never socializing, never wavering, with them every moment. The glassy look in his master’s eyes made all the more sense. “I cannot promise you anything. I have done my best to make you into what you are now. You are stronger, faster, harder, more capable than any elf in a thousand years, and this test may still break you.” Then Master Trinaden smiled, a rarer than diamond expression for the hardened blademaster. “I wish you the best.” With that, he turned his body and opened the path to the dark forest.
The brothers looked at one another.
Rydel took a deep breath. Then he made a motion for his brothers to join him in a small semicircle, out of earshot from Master’s keen ears. “I’ll go first,” he declared.
Dryan snorted, crossing his arms. “And why do you get the glory?”
The bite in his tan-skinned brother’s voice surprised Rydel. “If you wish to take the first entrance, brother, I won’t stop you. I was only trying to help.”
“I know what you are trying to do,” Dryan said with a sneer. It wasn’t the normal mocking sly look he gave, but one of full derision. The tattoos under his eyes twisted his contorted expression of mockery. “You want to discover the dangers first then you wish to find us and pass on the knowledge.”
Hadrian nodded thoughtfully as if this had just occurred to him. “Not a bad idea. But Master said this was a solo venture, did he not?”
“We are doing it solo,” Rydel replied. “Information is… simply information. We know only tales and fables of these woods. Anything that can help us understand what we’re up against and survive will be valuable.” Of course, he didn’t know how he’d find them, but he’d find a way.
“Seems reasonable enough,” Hadrian said.
“No,” Dryan snapped. “I’m done with your help.”
Rydel and Hadrian both looked at each other as if slapped. “Brother…” Hadrian said, reaching out. “Rydel is only trying to help us.”
Dryan slapped the elf’s hand away, retreating. “Get off of me!” He yelled. The tan
-skinned elf was shaking, trembling with emotion. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want your help anymore.” Again, they looked at one another, baffled. “You don’t see it, do you? The way you treat me. Like I’m some sort of burden to bear, a satchel weighing you two down. The guilt, I feel it constantly, wearing me down, gnawing at me.” He clutched at his chest as if he claws away the guilt, then he looked up at their expressions and he growled. “Even now! Stop looking at me that way!” He seethed. “I don’t want your pity, or worse… that look… that light-cursed look.” Dryan’s upper lip curled, a crazed light that had always been deep within, surfaced. “You think you’re better than me, and perhaps you are for now. But I will be stronger. One day, I will make you both tremble before me.” With a snide sneer, Dryan turned away.
“Brother, don’t do this,” Rydel pleaded.
Dryan looked back and gave him a look that made Rydel freeze—it wasn’t the Dryan he’d known, the one he’d saved from the bitter cold, or shared his load, or laughed with or… Then Rydel realized. Or perhaps, this was the true Dryan. “I’m not your brother,” Dryan said at last, “And I never was.” Simple and coldly stated, the words cut Rydel to the core, taking his breath away.
Then Dryan turned on Master Trinaden who stood in the same place, watching with his ever-impassive stony expression, his thick arms crossed before him. Dryan sniffed. “You… I don’t need your help either. You’re a relic waiting to die.”
Trinaden said nothing, yet Rydel saw a slight flinch in the man’s craggy face and deep sorrow in those flint-like eyes.
With that, Dryan turned and stalked away—north and towards the woods.
“Dryan!” Rydel called and reached out again, but Hadrian held him back.
The bigger elf shook his head. “He’s gone, brother… Let him go.”
Rydel knew Hadrian meant it in more ways than one. Tears formed in his eyes and he pressed them down. Why now of all times? Aside from his mother, Dryan and Hadrian were the only family Rydel had in this world. And yet, Dryan’s words stung—some too close to bitter truth. Had I really thought I was better than him? Deep down, he realized he did.
Hadrian came forward scratching his jaw. “Well, not the goodbye I’d hoped for… But fair well, brother. Watch your back in there, I won’t be there to watch it for you.” Rydel nodded and they embraced. “Until next we meet,” Hadrian said. “And let it be in this life and not the next.”
“Until then,” Rydel replied and left his brother and Master, knowing he may never see them again. Once he reached the dark edge of the forest, he glanced back to the lone tree and saw they were all gone. “Well, here goes nothing,” he whispered to himself. Then he disappeared into the shadowy breath of the forest.
———
The woods collapsed around him. The trees seemed to shuffle in when he wasn’t looking, crowding him, suffocating him like black fingers clenching him in their fist—but as he continued, the gnarled oaks, elms, and silveroots thinned. Green grass made a bed in the woods and a golden-white glow replaced the dark aura that had permeated the air. He wondered at the sudden change from dark to light, and first thought it was Drymaus’ defense against intruders who sought to plunge and pilfer its wonders. Then he postulated it wasn’t Drymaus being evil but good—attempting to warn those too inquisitive souls away for their own safety from the dangers lying within.
A light orange vapor rose from living things and Rydel breathed in. Instantly he felt invigorated, stronger, and faster. Spark, he realized. The very air was suffused with magic. Mushrooms dappling the base of a tree were the size of a buckler or tower shield, vines that dangled from above were wrist-thick. Magic made them into giants, and he knew well that bloated mushrooms and melon-sized flowers weren’t the only things the growing magic had touched.
As he entered a new kind of glade, he saw the trees soar heavenward, scraping the clouds. None of it held the dark purpose he’d been told. But he didn’t question his luck as he continued, passing beneath a tree that—
His hand stuck on something white, and dewy. The white strands looked like taut ropes made into an intricate pattern, and the dew wasn’t water, but viscous and glistening. A shadow descended, and the woods darkened. Rydel had a foreboding feeling and suddenly knew what this thing was… Swiftly, he reached for the blade at his side, pulling it free in a rush with his empty left hand as the woods continued to get darker. Every cut snapped the white ropes free but gained a thicker sticky coating on his blade. The stickiness dried almost immediately, turning to glue, hardening and crusting on his blade. Rydel’s next strike proved futile as the edge of his blade was gone. His right arm was nearly free, only two more rope-like strands held him in place, but his blade was useless. The sticky substance had turned its once keen edge into little more than a metal baton. Still, he breathed calmly, trying to figure out his next move when… He heard a clicking sound.
Above, he saw it.
An enormous spider made its way down the giant web. Its many black eyes glittered as it spotted its prize. Slavering tendrils dripped from its mandibles that clicked with eager delight at the succulent meal before it.
Trained as he was, Rydel tried to still his racing heart, tried to think, but the monstrous arachnid neared lightning quick. Its bulbous abdomen bounced as it crawled quickly, looking like a boulder tumbling down a hillside. Tugging violently, Rydel tried to rip his arm free, but it felt like trying to wrench free a sword stuck in solid stone. He cried out, and the arachnid quickened its pace, each of its thigh-thick legs skittering across its huge web as it raced towards its prey. Rydel pulled his side dagger free as the creature neared. Then, in the last moment, as its mandibles split and fangs jutted forward, Rydel jammed his dagger into one of the creature’s eight black orbed eyes. The giant spider shrieked a horrid clicking cry but slammed him in the head with a leg. The leg felt like a wooden staff to the side of his temple, jarring his thoughts and making the world spin. Clinging to consciousness, Rydel cut at another flashing black leg, and then another, hearing it shriek but it loomed over him still. Through his daze, he saw it lunge, and he barely dipped the snap of its huge mandibles and fangs dripping with poison. Again he jammed his side dagger into another of its eyes, trying to cut deeper but it pulled away wisely. As it did, he cut for his exposed limb—ready to free his wrist rather than die. He knew the small dagger would be worthless against the thick rope-like webbing and would only get caught. Still, sharp as his dagger was—it would take precious moments to saw through his own bone. As he pulled the dagger back, hoping to lop free his wrist in one mighty blow, the spider had recovered and lunged—seeing its opening. It was too late.
Just then, he heard another fierce cry.
A sword darted over his shoulder and plunged into the yawning cavity of the nightmarish spider’s slavering mouth. The creature shrieked again, thrashing wildly. The newcomer took another wild strike and Rydel felt his arm free from the sticky webbing and he fell. As his head cleared, the world resolving from a fuzzy nightmare; he looked up to see a green-figured Terma battling against the creature. After another few strikes and shrieks the arachnid, realizing this prize and meal was too costly, and retreated under the flurry of the newcomer’s strikes bleeding dark black and purple blood onto the forest floor. With a final, chilling shriek, the creature withdrew, crawling up its vast web and back into the cover of the mammoth trees. Rydel gained his feet and knew who it was immediately.
The green-armored Terma turned and took off her helmet, revealing a fall of scarlet hair. “Who’s the stubborn fool, now?” Elisaria said with a satisfied grin.
Dropping his sticky, bloody dagger, he rushed forward and took her shoulders in both arms. “What are you doing here?” The deep darkness had retreated for now. Drymaus had warned him, he realized, responding to the nature of the threat by making a strange artificial night descend, but the golden glow was still muted. A shadow remained, like dark clouds clinging to t
he enchanted woods. Mist swirled about their feet, curling and growing ominously by the minute. “You shouldn’t have come,” he declared. “You need to go, now.”
Elisaria’s smile fell, looking confused and her confusion turned to anger. “Are you serious? That’s the worst ‘thank you for saving my life’ I’ve ever heard.”
“This is my challenge, Elisaria.”
“A challenge you’d only be taking part in from the belly of a giant spider if it weren’t for me.”
Rydel growled. She was right, and yet… “Then I should have died,” he snapped.
She gave a scoff. “Congratulations. That’s officially the most idiotic thing you’ve ever said. Perhaps next time I will let you get your head snapped off.”
Time was wasting, the darkness was returning. He realized what was done was done. They didn’t have time for this. He needed to send her back and head deeper into the woods.
“You don’t understand. More dangers will be coming. The books, the stories, they all say the same. There are dangers out there to make giant spiders seem tame. Leave, now.” He knew his words were harsh, biting, but he would hurt her heart to keep her safe.
Instead, Elisaria’s hurt expression turned to one of resoluteness. The mask of the fierce fighter, the second-in-command of the Terma was back in place. Flipping her sword in the air, she caught it by the handle in a reverse grip then smoothly slid it into its sheath. “Then we’ll face them. Together. I know what you’re doing, Rydel, and I appreciate it, but it won’t work.”
“Please,” he said, gripping her hand, trying a softer tactic, “I can’t promise I can protect you, and I can’t lose you.”
She shrugged. “Then don’t promise. Like I told Cylar, while your gallantry is sweet, I can handle myself.”
But Rydel wasn’t so certain. Drymaus was different. Still, he knew that look in her eyes. There was no way she’d leave, not now. He debated doing something drastic, but dragging her out of the forest kicking and screaming would never work. Even if he could, he knew that Drymaus and its inhabitants could sense weakness. Ladened and distracted, he would attract nightmarish beasts like moths to a flame. It would never work.