Through the Dark Wood

by Geno Allen

  Zam had nearly made up his mind to take the armor when an almost imperceptible whisper broke through his thoughts. Why the choice? Why not just offer the armor they are aware you will need? They know more of the path you will travel than you do. What virtue is there in the tunic and trousers? Why the choice? It seemed a good question, and Zam was glad it had come to him. “Bondur, at the School of Trees Noralie said that only once before had you given such gifts. Before I decide I would like to ask what were the gifts given before, and to whom?”

  Noralie joined Bondur on the wall. “A well-asked question, Zam.”

  Bondur said, “I’ll let the missus tell.”

  “As to the who, it was King Rivelin. The what was a cloak that he wore in every battle from the day he received it until he passed it to his son who wore it in every battle and later passed it on as well. He bound it about his shoulders with a strong chain wrought by smiths in days unremembered, upon the ends of which sat two golden Fierisen leaves, a symbol of peace and light in Darlandis.” She paused in her telling. Zam looked from her to the armor. There was no mistaking her meaning. They were offering him the armor of the king of Darlandis. But a lingering thought would not yet allow him to make his choice.

  Noralie asked, “Have you decided?” Griss and Raim Sabbar felt a tension in the air they would not have expected. Zam couldn't place it, but somehow he knew there was a reason he should not pick the armor.

  He pointed to the cloak on the armor. “This very cloak... it was the gift?”

  Noralie nodded.

  “Then I have decided. I will not take the king’s armor, nor his cloak. The other cloak is as fine, and I am not a king.”

  Bondur jumped from the wall to the ground. “Well chosen, Zam. Now I’ll tell you what you must have suspected—sometimes we have to let others choose wisdom though we may want to force it on them—this cloak was our gift to Rivelin. In after-years we regretted not giving him or his children more, for they were each good kings. Rivelin IV wore it last during the Great War and was pierced clean through his armor.” Bondur pointed to a discoloration under the left breast of the chest plate. “It was patched for his memorial. If he’d had a tunic of Noradur underneath, he would have survived that blow and may have won the day. But he didn’t, and Noralie and I have often wondered why we didn’t offer more. It’s simple for us to make and only a little difficult to weave. We take a few measurements, like we did with you last night, and there you have it… Noradur. Rivelin gave it the name, since it came from Noralie and I. It’s amazing protection in battle.”

  Noralie interjected. “We could have given more and the kingdom might have fared better. Now we have a chance to help another noble-hearted young one, so let us do now what we did not do then.”

  Bondur looked at Zam with pride. “You chose well, Zam. I know that armor must have held a definite appeal to you. Why didn’t you choose it?”

  Zam thought about it for a moment. “Well, I suppose just because something looks stronger or better doesn’t mean that it is. I mean… look at me… I… slayed a dragon.”

  Bondur smiled. “Indeed you did.” He turned. “Master Griss, please take the cloak from the wall and put it over that shelf.”

  Griss did and it draped down like silk.

  Noralie bid him take a bow from the wall and shoot the cloak. When the arrow struck, the wooden shaft shattered, and the arrow head dropped to the ground, its tip blunted. The cloak remained unmarred.

  Zam’s eyes grew wide. “I've never seen such a thing!”

  Griss and Raim Sabbar were also taken aback.

  Noralie said, “Put it on, Zam.”

  He did. It was soft. He couldn’t imagine that such delicate material could have blunted an arrow. He picked up the arrow head. “This is amazing. These are made from your webs?”

  Bondur smiled and nodded. “They are. You can move around in it and it’ll feel soft as anything, but when something attacks you, it’s rigid as Tal’kyon hide. Well,” he looked at Raim Sabbar smiling, “Nearly as rigid.” And back to Zam, “This… is what we can do for you.”

  Zam ran his hand over part of the cloak then looked at his new friends. “These gifts are astounding, and I am humbled. It is certain they will more than aid me in my quest. I hope I can one day repay you for your kindness.”

  Noralie smiled. “Zam, we do not require repayment. Though, somehow I am certain your deeds will be more than repayment enough before the end.”

  It was nearly time for the midday meal. Zam had returned to his room. He knew it would be a long time before he enjoyed any place this pleasant, so he took a moment to lie on the bed and remember the sweet sweet warmth of the previous night’s sleep. His impending conversation with Raim Sabbar weighed on him. How I wish I didn’t have to leave him behind! But in his heart he knew it would be selfish of him and dangerous for Raim Sabbar to allow him to come. The Tal'kyon had done his part, for now.

  Zam got up and changed into his new clothes. Griss had found a pair of boots in one of the chambers off the armory that were just Zam’s size and better suited to the type of travel they would be engaged in. He also found a pack more fit for a long journey. Zam thought they—along with his new sword and clothes—made him look much more the adventurer. He climbed down from the room and met the group by the dais.

  Griss had found some chairs for them to sit in and a table from which to dine. “I am unsure when we will have this luxury again, so enjoy.” Zam sat, and his cloak slipped from his shoulders. He attempted to tie it on. Bondur noticed and said he’d forgotten something then scuttled away.

  Noralie said, “We have sent word through the School of Trees to our children regarding you. If ever you pass through Darlandis again and come across more of our kind they will be your friends.”

  Zam bowed. “I am grateful... again.”

  Griss asked, “How many are your children, Noralie?”

  Sadness filled her voice. “Fewer than in elder days. Many have been bested by dragons. Twenty-three remain and, by Elyon, no dragon will best them.” She raised and shook one of her legs as if shaking a fist in the face of any dragon that dared touch them. “They have learned through the losses how to defeat a dragon. I have not feared for them in many years, though now that Raurelin Seer and Etomeia sleep, there is disquiet in my heart.”

  Zam looked to Raim Sabbar and, seeing the sorrow there, knew his dream was true. If he were to follow them along the road he too would sleep, but if he stayed…. A thought struck Zam. “Noralie? Raurelin Seer and Etomeia... were they together when they fell into sleep?”

  “No. They each were guarding a School with my children. Why?”

  “Are the trees at the Schools identical?”

  “What do you mean? They are all Fierisen.”

  “Are they aligned the same? Shaped the same? In roughly the same position?”

  Now Raim Sabbar was growing curious. “Why do you ask, Windwater?”

  Zam looked at him in earnest. “I need to know. Are they? Do you know?”

  Noralie answered. “They are. If one did not know what outpost they were in, they could easily assume they were in another. Drandast and Melethor, though less ruinous, are mirrors of Vandaris and each other. Now why, Zam, do you need to know?”

  Griss, who had been curious as well, suddenly understood.

  Zam tried to answer, but no words came. He stood. His cloak slipped from his shoulders again, but he ignored it and began to pace. “Raim Sabbar, you have saved my life, and by bringing me here to receive these gifts you probably will have saved it many times over before my quest is complete. But your assistance, for now… is complete. I cannot allow you to come with us to Valkiliar.”

  Raim Sabbar looked at him in shock. “What do you mean? I am bound to you, to protect you! I must come! This is the duty that awakened me!”

  “I too feel bound to you, and in a strange way to Darlandis, but Griss and I must continue alone and you must turn back. This is not my will, but it is what is right.
”

  Raim Sabbar looked at Griss. “You?”

  “No, old friend. Listen to Zam’s tale.”

  Zam looked intently at Raim Sabbar. “I had a dream more vivid than any ever. You will not survive if you come. Duty or no, you will fall into sleep. I cannot be party to that. I will not. Your noble race must not end.” Raim Sabbar was about to speak, but Zam continued. “There is another duty for you, and it is filled with hope. In the dream when you turned back, you approached a School of Trees. When you did, several Tal’kyon awoke.”

  Though shock and sadness held ground in Raim Sabbar’s countenance, that last statement lit a fire in his eyes. He spoke slowly with a building determination. “That is why you wanted to know... because I am to go to the other Schools and awaken my kin.” The sorrow that had clung to him since the previous night crumbled before Zam’s eyes and a fierceness not even Griss had seen raised Raim Sabbar up. “That is the hope… That is the hope I have hung on to. When Crimthorn was slain, many trees lost their fear and desire for solitude. The School told me of an ancient birch that has regained its hope and believes my kind can be awakened. When I heard they slept, I desired to go to them, but I knew instead I must… but now….” Exhilaration coursed through Raim Sabbar and he burst thunderously into the air through the trees and up into the sky where he turned wide loops, soaring this way and that sending a plume of fire dancing on the wind before him.

  Just then Bondur returned. “I see you told him.”

  Zam looked at Bondur quizzically

  “Well, Zam, Noralie did tell you we have good hearing. When I came to wake you I could not help but hear your dream and your plans as I approached.” Bondur smiled as spiders may. “I think it is a good plan, right from Elyon.” Zam looked at Griss, who was looking at the spider with a smirk.

  Bondur changed the subject. “So, as I said, I forgot something.” He scuttled over to Zam and hopped onto the table. “Mother, would you help me with this?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Bondur said, “Put your cloak on, Zam.” and Noralie took one side of the chain he held. Together they clasped the golden Fierisen leaves to Zam’s cloak, and the ancient chain held it in place.

  Bondur grinned. “Step away a bit, so we can get a good look at you.” Zam took a few steps back beside Griss. He was amazed at this last gift most of all. Bondur told him, “It was a wise choice you made, telling him about your dream. You didn’t have to.”

  Zam thought about that. “No, Bondur, I did.”

  Bondur smiled. “You're a good lad. I suppose that is true. Now... you know, with that chain holding it in place, that’s a cloak fit for a king… but it’s all yours, Zam.”

  With the cloak on his shoulders bound with the ancient king’s chain, the Darlandan sword belted about his waist, a dragon dagger bound to his side, and the near-giant who stood beside him, Zam looked like an adventurer of old about to set forth seeking what treasure he may.

  Noralie looked toward the sky and then at Zam. “It looks as though it’s time you go.”

  A jubilant sound came streaming toward them—a cross between the whistling wind and an avalanche. Raim Sabbar came barreling through the trees and landed perfectly, yet with catastrophic force, behind the adventurers. When the dust settled, it was like a picture from an epic tale.

  Raim Sabbar turned to Zam and smiled. “I agree with your decision, Windwater. But, I will carry you as far as the pass to Vendill. That is beyond contestation.”

  CHAPTER NINE: THE LOST HILLS

  The adventurers said their goodbyes to Noralie and Bondur and set out north again beyond the ruins. By noon the following day, Raim Sabbar would say his goodbyes as well, but for now he, Griss and Zam rode together, mostly in silence. Conversation was difficult to maintain as Raim Sabbar swiftly bounded on. There was much ground to cover before the pass to Vendill. Had Zam and Griss been traveling on foot it would have easily been a three-day journey.

  When at first they set out Raim Sabbar had traveled at a softer pace, asking for every detail Zam could recall of his dream, the colors of things, the way the light played across the trees, what season it seemed to be. He was particularly interested in Zam’s description of the Tal'kyon that awoke. From the sound of it, Raim Sabbar believed it was Raurelin Seer, Etomeia, Deiranicks and Thudigg he would be awakening. Raim Sabbar was closest in heart to Raurelin Seer and he was glad the road they were traveling would bring him close to the path to Drandast, where she now slept.

  Griss patiently listened to Zam’s telling and retelling. It pleased him to see such excitement in his friend. He had feared that taking Zam to Valkiliar and leaving Raim Sabbar on his own would weaken his friend before it strengthened him, but his fear had proved unfounded, for Raim Sabbar seemed stronger and more youthful than Griss had ever known him to be.

  Once Raim Sabbar was satisfied with his understanding of the dream, he quickened his pace. They traveled far and long into the dark. When at last they stopped for the night, Raim Sabbar bade Griss and Zam sleep. He would watch over them.

  Through the dark hours he stood silent sentinel. This was his last night guarding his friends—guarding the Windwater—at least for now, and he would suffer no attack.

  As the black, star-filled sky slipped to deep shades of blue he sought Elyon’s intention for Zam and had a message for him by the time the horizon rimmed with pink. “Windwater,” he said softly. “Wake up, Windwater.”

  Zam stirred. “What? What is it?”

  “Walk with me.”

  Zam followed Raim Sabbar to the edge of a nearby ridge that opened out upon a sweeping valley, much of which was shrouded in mist painted gold by the sun. From here they could still see Griss asleep, but were not likely to be heard.

  Raim Sabbar looked solemnly at Zam. “A few more hours and we will reach the pass where we must part ways. I thank you for your decision that I must stay, though my heart will go with you.”

  Zam smiled. “It was the right choice. You have more pressing deeds than helping me on this path.”

  “And you have more pressing deeds than you know. There is a great test ahead for you, Zam. I know this decision is right, but I would still travel with you if you would allow it. I have spent the night in thought, wrestling with Elyon. I desire to take the path ahead of me and begin my own quest, but to leave you and Griss alone feels wrong.”

  Zam shook his head and said quietly, “I cannot be swayed in my decision, Raim Sabbar.”

  The Tal'kyon smiled. “I do not seek to sway you. I am set upon my quest and you upon yours. For a few hours yet they run parallel, but they will diverge. It may be that we shall meet again, but that much Elyon has not shared with me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to where Griss lay, and smiled. “I have not seen a night more beautiful pass in many long years, and as morning approached I understood what kept me from peace in our departure. Windwater… Zam....” A grave look came over him. “There is a danger you face, that you have little skill to perceive. It will come from Griss.”

  Zam asked warily, “What do you mean?”

  “I do not mean that that he will intend this. But he will mislead you if given the chance... or better said, misguide you. Not by falsehood, mind you, or by malice of forethought. To speak such things of him would prove me no friend. No. When it comes, it will be in what he perceives as wisdom, which would in different times be wisdom indeed.”

  Zam looked at Griss who still lay sleeping.

  Raim Sabbar continued. “I know now the path he has chosen for you to travel will not get you to your goal in time.” A deep and fearful look crossed his face. “There is something—I know not what—waiting at the edge of the woods that border the Vendill plains along the path to the Great Bridge. It is waiting for you, to stop you, and it will kill you both if it is given the chance. That I know this and cannot accompany you grieves me.”

  Zam looked solemnly at Griss then out over the valley before him and finally back to Raim Sabbar, who said softly,
“I am sorry to bear such news.”

  Zam shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I need to know such things. Elyon will decide.” The words came with a weight of meaning Zam hadn't felt before in saying them.

  “Indeed he will, Windwater.”

  “Raim Sabbar, what will I do? I can’t turn back. Do you know of any other way? Any other pass?”

  Raim Sabbar shook his head. “I have never passed into Vendill. In ancient days men lived there who would have feared me, and since the decline of Darlandis there has been much to keep my attentions elsewhere.” His countenance and his tone changed to one of empathy for the struggle ahead. “But Zam, though I have shared this, do not mistrust Griss. He will guide you to the best of his ability. You must simply discern for yourself what direction to go. Take his counsel, consider it and weigh it, but in the end, you must decide.”

  Zam understood and agreed he would then added emphatically, “I will not pass through the wood that borders Vendill. I will find some other way.”

  When they returned to where Griss slept, he awoke. “Good morning.” He yawned. “Have I overslept?”

  Raim Sabbar responded, “No, old friend, you are right on time.” The three sat together and ate, then gathered their belongings and continued their northward march. Raim Sabbar had brought them farther the previous day than even he realized. It was not long before Rendift began to bend westward and a shallow valley opened out to the east.

  Raim Sabbar halted his march and lowered himself, allowing Zam and Griss an easier dismount. “I do believe this is where we will part.”

  Griss walked along the side of his friend until he reached his neck. He patted Raim Sabbar with a tender concern. “You are correct old friend. This valley will lead us to the plains of Vendill then on to the woods leading to the Great Bridge.”