by Jamila Gavin
Each time he found a path and thought it might lead somewhere, it just straggled away into nothing, or turned full circle and brought him back to where he had started. In the distance he heard his bear son growling amongst the trees, and when night fell, he heard the long howl of a lone wolf, and knew it was his daughter.
He stumbled around, desperately looking for shelter. The howlings and growlings were nearer now. Just when he feared he would be torn to pieces by his own children, he came across a huge oak tree with a dry hollow trunk that was just wide enough for him to crawl inside, and deep enough to enable him to stretch out and sleep, safe from the wild animals.
As he lay curled up on the dry leaves, looking more like an abandoned child than a king, he fell asleep listening to the tree breathing and singing, with the sap rising and falling, and dreamed that the Green Man of the Forest bent over him. His face was old and wrinkled as the bark of the oak itself, with eyes as sharp as midnight stars, and hair and beard of holly and ivy coiled around his head and shoulders.
‘Oh, pardon me,’ said the king to the Green Man. ‘I fear I have trespassed into your home. Forgive me.’
But the Green Man just smiled and said, ‘You are welcome, your majesty. I wish I could do more to help restore your kingdom to you. But one day a pathfinder will come. When that happens, hand over these acorns. Only they can destroy Abiteth the Sorcerer and allow you to leave the forest.’
When the king awoke the next morning, he found six acorns by his side. Each nut glowed like gold, and their little cups were of emerald green. Somehow, he suddenly felt a great peace in his soul, and knew he must just wait for a pathfinder to come.
The years went by, and on the far side of the forest a boy called Emeka was growing up happily with his mother, father and sister, Joy. The forest was their livelihood: they collected wood to sell to people who lived in the villages around, who used it to build houses and light fires. But it was such a deep dark forest, and so full of wild animals, that few people went in very far. They were afraid of the trolls and spirits who were thought to lurk within its depths, as well as the wolves and bears and wild boar.
But Emeka loved the forest. He had played in it ever since he could walk, and this is where he rescued a baby squirrel he called Kuckroo, who was never parted from him. At first, Emeka had always obeyed his parents and had never gone further into the forest than the reach of a human call. But as he grew older, he became bolder, and often, when he was supposed to be helping his father to collect logs and firewood, he and Kuckroo would disappear into the woods for hours on end, going far beyond the sound of a calling voice. He simply never heard his mother, father and sister yelling and shouting for him. When he did come home, they would give him such a telling off for causing them worry. But he would just laugh boastfully and say, ‘I never get lost. I always find a path.’
Then tragedy struck. His father fell ill and died. Now, Emeka had to do everything his father had done. He went into the forest – not to explore, but to gather wood to sell in the village – and often his little sister, Joy, went too. But though they worked as hard as they could, the family became poorer and poorer.
One day, their mother married again, and in due course gave birth to a son. Although they were no longer poor, they weren’t rich, and the stepfather resented having to put food into the mouths of his wife’s children, so he said, ‘Emeka and Joy are old enough to look after themselves now. Tell them to go out into the world and find work. We can barely afford to feed the three of us, let alone two growing children.’
‘Oh, but I couldn’t bear to be parted from Emeka,’ cried the wife. ‘Oh, my beautiful son, with his shining black eyes and glowing skin like gold buried in the dark earth, so brave and bold. And I can’t live without Joy, my most precious and loyal daughter, whose laughter tinkles like bells across the universe. I couldn’t bear to part with you.’
The idea was dropped for a while, but things went from bad to worse, and the children heard their mother and stepfather arguing about how to feed the family. So one night, just before dawn, Emeka woke his sister. ‘Come, Joy! Let’s go and seek our fortunes. Our presence here only causes disharmony. We must leave. We will go through the forest. I’ve heard there is a kingdom on the other side where we can look for work.’
‘But, Emeka, how will we find our way?’
‘Don’t they call me Emeka the Pathfinder? We will find our way.’
They collected two apples and two slices of bread and wrapped them in a cloth bundle on the end of a stick. Emeka picked up a little wooden horse he had carved and popped it in his pocket, and Joy took a silver chain with a single glass stone that her father had given her, and put it around her neck. Then, holding hands, they crept out of the house.
Following behind, chittering and chattering, was Emeka’s pet squirrel.
The moon lit up the straggly path as bright as a golden thread. It didn’t dwindle away as so many paths did; even though it was thin, it meandered on and on through the undergrowth, up and down ditches and across grassy knolls. Sometimes Emeka thought he had lost it; but no – there it was, glinting ahead, almost beckoning them to follow. They walked through the night and into the next day, and Emeka said, ‘We must find shelter before nightfall. We are now deep in the forest and there are wild animals here.’
Indeed, the forest had become so thick that night fell almost unnoticed, and after a while they began to hear howling and grunting in the undergrowth. But still they glimpsed the faithful red squirrel leaping along from branch to branch above their heads.
Suddenly, the path stopped. There before them was the biggest tree Emeka had ever seen. It was an ancient oak with a girth almost as wide as their own little cottage, as high as a cathedral, and with vast stretching branches embracing the space around it.
Kuckoo darted all the way up to the top, then spun down again, and skipped around its base. That’s when Emeka spotted a small opening into the hollow trunk, almost hidden by a leafy branch. They squeezed themselves inside, and feeling a little safer, fell instantly asleep.
But this oak tree was the very place the king had chosen to shelter in. For years now he had been living in the forest, eating the nuts and berries, and drinking from the streams that ran nearby. Sometimes he heard a bear roaring, and thought it might be his son, Prince Florian, and he would cry into the trees, ‘My son, my son! I pray you stay safe from the hunters.’ And at night he heard the howl from a lone wolf, and he would weep, ‘Oh my daughter, be brave. One day we will escape and break this spell.’
While Emeka and Joy were sleeping, the king returned to his hollow for the night. He made no sound of surprise at the sight of the two sleeping children, but after staring tenderly at them for a while, he curled up near the entrance of the hollow and he too went to sleep.
It was just before sunrise when Emeka awoke and sniffed a delicious smell of burning wood and fish and smoke. It brought him crawling hungrily out of the tree. He got to his feet, then stood stock still in shock. There, crouched over a little fire, was a man who looked as ancient as the oak itself, with wrinkles as plentiful as the oak bark and fingers as gnarled as the twisting roots. He was grilling fish on a spit.
The king spoke without looking round: ‘How did you find your way to my tree?’
‘I followed a path,’ said Emeka, ‘and it brought me here.’
The old man turned and said with quiet intensity, ‘You followed a path? What is your name?’
‘E-Emeka,’ stammered the boy. ‘They call me the Pathfinder.’
‘A pathfinder.’ The king felt a surge of hope rush through his veins. ‘And this must be your sister . . .’ Joy had crept out to stand next to her brother, clasping his hand. ‘What are you doing in the forest?’
‘We’re on our way to the city to find work, as our mother and stepfather are too poor to feed us.’
The king made them sit on a fallen log, and gave them each some fish, on wooden plates that he had made himself by whittling wood. Whi
le they ate, he told them who he was and how the wicked sorcerer had captured his kingdom and turned his son and daughter into wild animals. ‘Abiteth the Sorcerer has thrown a spell over the forest and confused all the paths,’ he said, ‘so that I can never go back to my castle. But I had a dream in which the Green Man of the Forest came to me. He told me that only a pathfinder could break the spell of the forest and release me from the power of the sorcerer. Only then will I find my way out.’
‘Emeka has always found a way out of the forest,’ cried Joy. ‘Why not come with us?’
‘I am cursed,’ said the king sadly. ‘The spell of confusion would soon separate us.’ Then he took a little cloth bag out of his pocket, and tipped six acorns into his hand. ‘The Green Man told me that if a pathfinder should come I must hand over these acorns. They have special powers: if you are a pathfinder, with these acorns you can break the spell and my kingdom will be restored to me. Will you take them?’
Emeka looked at them wonderingly. How often had he collected acorns in the woods, and even crushed them to eat when he was desperately hungry, though he had never seen any that glowed as brightly as these. He held out his hand. ‘I will take them,’ he said firmly.
The old king’s hand trembled as he returned the acorns to the pouch and gave it to Emeka. ‘Keep these safe, Emeka the Pathfinder. Somehow, when the time comes, you will know what to do. Now follow your path – and children, if you meet my son, tell him how dear he is to me.’ The king’s eyes were full of tears.
‘We will,’ promised Emeka.
‘But be careful. He is a bear, so don’t let him eat you up! And if you meet my daughter, tell her I love her.’
‘We will,’ promised Joy.
‘But be careful. She is a wolf. Don’t let her tear you to pieces.’
The king watched the children go on their way, with Kuckroo bounding along, sometimes in front, sometimes leaping from branch to branch above their heads. Even as they walked, the forest seemed to swallow them up and the path they followed disappeared from his sight.
Emeka and Joy walked all day.
The light was fading and shadows darkening when they saw a light gleaming through the trees.
‘Could that be a house?’ cried Joy. ‘Perhaps they will let us sleep there for the night.’
Although the lights were flickering, and they could see food set on the table, no one answered their knock. They gently pushed the door, and it opened. The children entered, calling out, ‘Anybody there?’ Still no one answered, and the food on the table made them feel so hungry, they immediately sat down and began to eat.
‘Who dares enter my house and eat my food?’ a deep voice roared.
There in the doorway stood a bear.
Emeka thought quickly. A bear who lived like a human might be the son of a king, so he said boldly, ‘Oh Bear! Are you Prince Florian, son of the king of this land? If so, then we bring a message from your father. He says how dear you are to him.’
At the sound of his human name, and the words of his father, tears began to fall down the bear’s face. He lumbered forward and made the children sit down at his table and eat, and tell him everything they knew about his father, the king. Then he led them to a bedchamber and said they could sleep there for the night. But he warned them: ‘Before dawn breaks, you must leave this hut, for my bear nature takes over and I may eat you up.’
It was still dark when, the next morning, Emeka woke Joy so that they could be on their way.
‘How can we say thank you?’ asked Joy.
‘I’ll leave my horse.’ He took the wooden horse out of his pocket and scratched his name underneath: Emeka the Pathfinder. Then he set it down on the table.
As they stepped out of the cottage, a path stretched before them and the red squirrel bounded along, stopped and turned round, waiting for them to follow.
All day they walked deeper into the great wildness of the forest, yet the brambles and bushes gave way before them, and nothing blocked their path. Night was falling. They could hear the howling of wolves and the gruntings of wild animals when they came across another little hut in the forest. As before, they peeped in though the window and saw a table set with food and drink. They knocked, but nobody answered. When they pushed the door, it opened, and they went inside, calling out, ‘Is there anybody there?’ Still there was no answer and because they were so hungry, they sat down and began to eat.
They had nearly finished when a voice startled them. It was a high-pitched woman’s voice, and she cried sternly, ‘Who has entered my house and eaten my supper?’
There in the doorway stood a large grey wolf. Emeka felt the fear rise up in his stomach, and Joy whimpered fearfully at his side. ‘Oh, we’re so sorry. We are on our way through the forest to the kingdom on the other side, and we were so hungry. Please forgive us.’
Then they noticed the wolf ’s sad human eyes, and Emeka said, ‘Are you Princess Flora? I have a message for you from your father.’
At the mention of her father, great tears rolled down the wolf-princess’s face. ‘Have you seen him? Is he well? I feared he must long ago have been consumed by the wild beasts of this forest.’
Emeka and Joy assured her that the king was well, and so was her bear brother, who had sheltered them the night before. How joyful was Wolf Flora; she begged them to go on eating and tell her everything about her father and brother. Then she saw how tired the children were and said, ‘You may sleep here tonight, but be sure to be gone by dawn, when my wild wolf nature takes over and I would tear you to pieces.’
Before sunrise the next morning, Emeka woke his sister. Joy took off her chain with the glass stone and said she would leave it for the wolf princess to say thank you; then they set off again, following a path that miraculously appeared; and there was Kuckroo rubbing his paws together, waiting for them.
Nobody knew how afraid the sorcerer was of a pathfinder coming one day and destroying his power. Every morning, he sent his hawk to soar over the forest, spying on everything that was going on down below and then reporting back. It spotted the red squirrel, and immediately dived like a falling stone. But it wasn’t fast enough to escape Joy’s quick eye. She screamed, ‘Look out!’ and the squirrel vanished to safety in the undergrowth. But the hawk now saw the brother and sister.
There was a piercing screech of the bird’s hunting cry as it flew back to the sorcerer. ‘There are two children in the forest. They follow a path and are coming this way.’
Could this be what he had most dreaded – a pathfinder? Abiteth shuddered. ‘We must prepare to welcome them to our castle,’ he said.
Towering above the canopy of trees, Emeka and Joy at last saw the walls and turrets of the castle, and their path led them right up to a drawbridge and a huge iron portcullis.
How silent everything seemed. There were no watchmen at the gate, no guards on the parapets; just large ravens that hopped along the walls looking at them with glittering eyes.
‘Must we enter this place?’ asked Joy fearfully.
Emeka too felt a deep fear in his heart, but the acorns burned in his pocket, and he knew that only he could destroy the power of the sorcerer. ‘We must go in,’ he said firmly.
An enormous bell hung from a chain, but before they could ring it, the gate swung open to reveal a courtyard. A long red carpet led, like an extension of their forest path, all the way up a staircase and into a great chamber. There, sitting on a throne, was the sorcerer, clutching a black and gold rod.
Abiteth looked like a huge blob that changed shape constantly: first like a writhing snake, then a dark, thunderous cloud; now like a tiger, now like a dragon; then like a man with an evil face, long, claw-like fingernails, and glinting feline eyes that fixed on them.
Sitting alongside him was his queen, in a swirling black satin dress all spangled with diamonds; with iron-black teeth, and lips so red, it was as though she had gorged herself on raw meat.
‘What brings you to my palace?’ asked the sorcerer with a voi
ce like sizzling ice. ‘How did you find your way through the forest?’
‘We just followed a path,’ replied Emeka.
‘You followed a path . . .?’ murmured the sorcerer. ‘And you never got lost?’
‘We often felt lost,’ said Joy, ‘but Emeka always finds a path to follow.’
‘Emeka always finds a way, does he?’ Abiteth’s voice was deadly.
‘That’s why he is known as Emeka the Path . . .’ Emeka nudged her to be quiet, and Joy’s voice trailed away miserably.
The children stood in silence. Never before had they been in the presence of such evil.
‘Emeka the Pathfinder? How can a puny little boy like you be a pathfinder?’ But then the sorcerer rose to his feet. ‘If you are a pathfinder, you must be destroyed.’ He swooped down and struck Emeka six times with his black and gold wand: once across his neck, then his right arm, his left arm, his right leg, his left; the sixth stroke pierced his heart.
With a dreadful scream, Joy fell to her knees among his severed limbs and, as she saw the light dying in her brother’s eyes, he whispered, ‘Take the acorns.’
Clutched in one of his hands was the little cloth pouch. Joy secretly thrust it into her pocket before she fainted away.
The sorcerer raised his black and gold wand as if to cast a spell over Joy, but the queen intervened. ‘Give me the girl, Abiteth. You know how much I have longed for a daughter. Let her be mine.’
He shrugged. ‘Do what you like with her.’ He scooped up the six parts of Emeka’s body and buried them in the forest where six paths crossed. The head he placed facing north, the feet south, and each arm stretched out, one towards the east and one towards the west. In the very centre, where the six paths met, he buried Emeka’s heart. ‘Which direction can you take now, Pathfinder!’ Abiteth exclaimed triumphantly.
Joy awoke in the middle of the night. Never had she felt so drowsily comfortable. She was dressed in a silken nightdress, and lay in a fabulous four-poster bed with rich drapes and a satin quilt. Then she remembered Emeka. ‘My brother is dead!’ Grief tore at her heart, and she rolled over and howled into her goose-feather pillow.