Through the Dark Wood

by Geno Allen

  Zam looked on the scene amazed. “Just as in Rivelin’s First.”

  All of them stood silent for a time. Zam had asked for Elyon’s help and the shadow beast had been destroyed.

  Corcle was the first to speak. Turning to Zam he asked, “Is your arm all right, Master Zam?” Nearly all of Corcle’s teeth on the left side were shattered.

  “My arm is fine, a little bruised, but nothing worse.” He paused, and sadness filled him for what he'd cost his friend. “I am sorry for your teeth, Friend Corcle. I am afraid to ask… is it possible they’ll grow back?”

  Fraegrel answered. “They will not, but the fact that he endured such pain and did not let you go is a great proof that he is changing. That he could hear what I could not is a better sign still.”

  Corcle was pleased by Fraegrel's words. “Master Zam, I will be well.”

  Zam shook his head. “From now on, no more master Zam. It is only friend Zam now.”

  Corcle smiled.

  After their frightening experience on the Great Bridge, they were anxious to begin their travels again. Zam gathered several of Corcle’s shattered teeth and placed them in his satchel to always remember his friend’s sacrifice, and they set off.

  The journey to the border was slower and far less eventful than the previous weeks. Having Farrix as companions kept most foul creatures away—allowing a more comfortable pace in the time it took to reach the edge of Darlandis. As they drew closer to their goal, they took a few more opportunities to rest.

  Five weeks had passed and fall was setting in. As they drew nearer to Cairemia the leaves were turning that beautiful golden color that looks warm and inviting but heralds the coming cold. With the changing of the season came also the wind and rain. Some days the wind would whip so to send flurries of leaves—which no longer felt the need to cling to the trees from which they sprang—tumbling about the forest only to settle in soft blankets when the wind subsided. As time drew on, nearly all the forest floor was blanketed so. It was early in the season, so some days still held the beauty and promise of a late-summer day, but others soaked the travelers to the bone and chilled them with bitter wind.

  On this particular evening they found shelter in an ancient toppled watchtower. In days past it had been an outpost of Valkiliar, one last guardian against the dark of Darlandis. The companions were glad for shelter that did not leak. Griss had made a fire, and they were resting around it. Fraegrel had slain a deer earlier in the evening and Griss prepared it for the four of them to share.

  After eating they discussed the following day’s travel. Swallowing the last of his portion, Fraegrel said, “It is strange the way your kind uses fire to singe your food. Though, it is an interesting flavor.”

  Griss and Fraegrel had grown quite fond of each other in their travel. They were kindreds of a sort, both of them wise in more than simply the ways of survival. They discussed histories, things they each had learned regarding Darlandis, and the best places they had found to hole up against a dragon.

  Both Fraegrel and Corcle were amazed to learn that Zam had slain a dragon, and more than once Fraegrel said, “I have never dreamed of facing down such a beast. Your kind is either brave or unaware of the danger.” his polite way of saying foolhardy.

  Corcle would reply, “Friend Zam is a valiant man and a mighty warrior. To think I once bared my teeth to him, a dragon slayer.”

  Zam and Corcle had also become quite fond of each other along the road, but Zam did not wish to hear any more regarding how valiant he was, or how Corcle had once bared his teeth. His sad half-teeth. That is what Griss had begun to affectionately call the younger Farrix “Master Half-Tooth.” Corcle seemed proud to receive the name, a reminder of his turn from wild creature to one more like Fraegrel, but Zam was sorry for having cost his friend so much.

  Taking the last bit of meat from the spit, Griss asked, “Would you care for the rest, Master Half-Tooth?”

  Corcle’s expression changed to what could almost be termed a smile. “I do if Friend Zam, Master Griss, and Fraegrel want it not.”

  Corcle’s courteous choice of words had improved through the past few weeks, but his delivery still lacked confidence. Zam felt pride for his friend, as an older brother would. All had eaten their fill, so Griss tossed the meat to Corcle, who caught and swallowed it practically before it touched his mouth.

  Fraegrel spoke up. “Tomorrow we part ways, good friends.”

  Neither Zam nor Corcle were happy to hear those words. But it was Zam who asked, “Why, Fraegrel?”

  Griss answered. “We rest on the very edge of Darlandis and Cairemia. This watchtower once stood guard over the borders of our two lands.”

  Fraegrel continued, “But in the days between then and now the boundaries have changed. Your kind have moved their watchtowers farther from the forest, perhaps for fear of the tales of our land.”

  Corcle took his turn in the conversation. “They were right to fear. Many times through the years we Farrix have wandered the lands between this border and the forest’s edge. I am shamed to say that in those days, we killed and ate whatever we desired, be it man or beast. I want to follow you, Friend Zam, beyond this land, but it would not be a help to you.”

  Zam did not want to part ways with new friends again so soon: first Galwen’s family, then Noralie and Bondur, then Raim Sabbar, and now his friends the Farrix. Griss saw the displeasure on Zam’s face. “He is right, Zam. Were Master Half-Tooth to join us, the peoples of Cairemia would surely try to kill him, and we would be pressed to answer why we travel with one of the ‘dark beings’ of Darlandis.” He looked at the Farrix. “By which I mean no disrespect.”

  Corcle shook his head. “Many of my kind are dark beings, but that will change.”

  Griss smiled. “I believe you are correct, Master Half-Tooth.”

  When Zam voiced his agreement, Fraegrel asked Corcle to explain what they could expect from the land as they set out in the morning.

  Corcle tried to find the best description. “Your people’s border is downhill from here. We will meet the bottom when the sun stares strait down upon us if we keep our pace. From that place the land becomes grassy and stretches out a long way in small hills. In the near distance there will be towers alike to this in which we rest. Unlike this, they remain standing.” His tone grew sorrowful. “I have hunted among those towers in days past. You will find more of your kind there. And that is the farthest I have gone into your land.”

  After a short silence Zam said, “You are the second Black Farrix I have had acquaintance to meet. Your sadness over your past deeds separates you greatly from the other. Proof that, as Fraegrel said, you are changing.”

  Corcle bowed to Zam at those words.

  Griss suggested they turn in for the night. “We must be prepared. There is no way of knowing the welcome we will receive if we are seen exiting Darlandis.”

  Zam did not wish the evening to end just yet, but Corcle said, “The sooner we sleep the sooner your friend’s rescue will come.”

  Morning broke without the wind and with far fewer clouds. The open sky poured down sunlight that met the damp earth and brought forth a mist that wrapped the forest in a foggy white embrace. The companions were up and traveling, the goal of Zam’s quest fresh in mind. Corcle and Fraegrel carried their companions over the distance swiftly and, as if Corcle had seen it in a vision, the sun did indeed shine straight down upon them as they reached the bottom. The forest was thinner here, and all along its edge the fog was dissipating. Before them stretched the low, grassy hills Corcle had described.

  Corcle motioned with his head toward the east. “There, Friend Zam... there you will find others of your kind.”

  Zam and Griss dismounted and scanned the horizon. The flat land stretched a great distance with no mountains to be seen eastward. Several small groves were scattered over the lands leading into small forests beyond a few low hills that some would have thought no more than mounds.

  Griss said, “This is the way
to Valkiliar, the westward-most outpost of Knighton. I passed through this land when I first came to Darlandis, though I traveled a great distance farther south before I found myself in that land.”

  Zam looked about but did not see what he had expected. “There are no outposts, Corcle.”

  Fraegrel answered. “Corcle asked that we not bring you directly to the guard towers, but to a gap the Black Farrix have exploited many times in their hunts.”

  Corcle faced Zam. “It was to keep your kind from seeing us together. I would not have them mistreat you for having been in the company of one such as I.”

  “Thank you, Corcle, my friend. That was wise of you.” This was the first moment Zam had seen Corcle in direct sunlight since their battle upon the Great Bridge. It seemed to him that the solid black fur of his friend had just the barest hint of silvery-gray peppered throughout it. Fraegrel’s words from before came back to Zam and he understood them differently in the light of this day. He smiled. “Truly, you are changing, Friend Corcle.”

  Fraegrel nodded, and Zam thought he caught the barest hint of a knowing look and a smile as the elder Farrix said, “It is true indeed, my good Corcle.”

  The companions said their goodbyes, and the Farrix made it plain that they would remain at the edge of the forest until Zam and Griss had safely crested the first hill.

  On foot again, Zam and Griss began the eastward march, passing down from the edge of the forest and crossing the open grassland. To the north in the distance lay a mountain range capped with white. It somehow felt familiar to Zam.

  Away south, the border of Darlandis stretched a bit farther toward the east, filling most of the southern horizon before dropping away west again. There were few trees here and Zam found himself sad for that. He'd grown fond of woodlands and was at least happy to be traveling toward the forests to the east, though none of them appeared to be as old or great as Darlandis.

  In less than half an hour they had found their way to the top of the first low hill. From there they could see a path to the south that wound itself into the sparse groves leading east to Valkiliar.

  Griss turned around and called out to their traveling companions, “Fare you well, Master Half-tooth and Friend Fraegrel!” Both Farrix bowed, then vanished silently into the wood. So it was that one hundred and fifty seven days from Zam’s first vision, Griss Corwise and Zam Windwater came again to Cairemia.

  CHAPTER TWELVE: SHACKLED

  As they passed over the low hills Zam began to feel something unwelcoming in the air. He looked about but there was little to be seen. The path ahead was covered in stones that were once intended as a crude pavement. They were not close together and every few feet there were gaps with no stones at all where grasses had grown up over the years. Trees here were sparse enough that it would be difficult for anyone to take the travelers unaware. That brought Zam comfort.

  The sky was still clear but the winds had kicked up again, covering much of the forest sounds, save that of the fallen leaves as they were lifted and settled with each gust. Again Zam sensed something unpleasant. Having grown accustomed to the dark atmosphere of Darlandis in the past months, it was unsettling to feel such a great unwelcomeness in the air here in Cairemia. “Something feels wrong upon this road, Griss.”

  Griss neither changed his pace nor altered his path as he replied, “It feels as though we are being watched. I first believed it was our friends keeping guard over us, and so it may have been, but now I sense malevolence.”

  “Yes. It’s as though whatever watches us waited until our friends were too far away to be of help.”

  Griss nodded. “There is little we can do for now but continue and keep our wits about us.”

  And that is precisely what they did. An hour passed and another was quickly slipping away as the path bent around a low hill and turned again eastward. There the small groves grew to full-fledged woods. The wind began to blow fiercely, and Zam thought he heard something within its rise and fall. Suddenly, as if prompted by an unheard battle cry, he drew his sword. Griss followed.

  The two adventurers stood at the ready, back to back on the cobbled path. The afternoon sun beat down and the chill wind came at them gust after gust, fighting the sun’s warmth. There they stood a long time, awaiting… something.

  At length Griss asked, “What is it, Zam?”

  Sword still drawn and still expecting someone or something to burst out from the trees, Zam answered, “I can’t say... a voice on the wind maybe. One moment it felt like a warning of danger, and then it seemed a threat.” Zam looked about, sensing that somewhere nearby was one who wished them harm.

  Griss awaited Zam’s choice of action.

  A little longer and Zam took a few steps. “We’ll continue... but stay on guard.”

  As they traveled Zam felt an ever-present threat looming over them. Coming to a crossroad they slowed, moving more cautiously. Zam sensed danger so near that he was almost sure there had to be bandits or something worse waiting for them. They warily made their way across the intersecting roads, searching this way and that for any sign of the danger Zam felt.

  Nothing.

  The way was safe. They passed unhindered. Zam couldn't tell whether the danger was behind them or before them.

  Not long after the crossroad what had seemed like flatland that stretched for miles came abruptly to a ridge. A steep embankment dropped away several hundred feet.

  With a sense of foreboding Zam pointed to the bottom, where the ridge met wood and the cobbled path continued. “There is where the danger lies. If we travel there, it may well be our end.”

  “I believe you speak true, Zam.”

  Beyond the woods below them lay a fortress, and several paths—presumably from the various watchtowers—converged near it. The road they were on wound its way down the embankment, switching back, first this way, then that until it reached the bottom, where it worked its way through thick trees to join the other roads. An unseen evil hovered where the road met the wood, and they both felt it.

  Zam turned. “That fortress is Valkiliar?”

  Griss nodded.

  “Well, we cannot approach on this road. We won’t save Raine if we do.”

  Griss felt the same. Together they determined the best approach was to follow the woods atop the ridge farther north before making their way down to the wood below, avoiding the road altogether. After an hour’s march they turned east and began their descent from ridge to wood. It was not easy going, as the ground was soft and their footing precarious. Many times they nearly slipped and tumbled—not a desirable way to reach bottom.

  After a difficult downward hike they stopped to catch a second wind. Between the base of the ridge and the trees before them lay a wide, grassy lane that followed the ridge and woods as far as they could see in either direction. It was here, in the place they had come to avoid watching eyes, that they were spied by Guardian Neereth, Chief Guardian of Valkiliar Keep.

  A crossbow bolt thudded into the ground at Griss' feet, and a man called out from somewhere amidst the trees, “That was a warning shot! Try to run and I’ll plant one in your forehead!”

  Both stood stock still awaiting what was next. From across the way at the wood’s edge came three white horses bearing soldiers in light mail and blue tunics with the phoenix crest of Knighton upon them. The one on the right held a crossbow pointed at them. He was in his mid-thirties with brown hair flowing to his shoulders, and had a soldier’s build, roughly Zam’s height but more sturdy. The soldier on the left was built much the same, though his face bore a close cropped beard and his ruddy hair was shorter.

  The soldier in the middle caught Zam’s attention. He was obviously their captain. He wore well-polished armor and a high-feathered helm, crested with white, leaving only the eyes visible. Most striking was the captain's slight stature. He was easily six inches shorter than the others and had barely more than a child’s build. At a glance Zam would have thought this armor well suited to a boy Dorrin’s age.
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  The one with the crossbow spoke. “Now, strangers, it is not our desire to seem unwelcoming, but why do you sneak from one wood to another, avoiding the road?”

  The ruddy faced one chimed in. “And with swords drawn?”

  Both Zam and Griss were hard pressed to come up with an answer the soldiers would find acceptable. The crossbowed one shouted, “Well–”

  The captain held up his hand to silence his subordinate then slowly moved his horse a few plodding steps forward.

  “First, Good Sirs, if in fact you are good, you may sheath your swords.” The captain’s voice was not what Zam had expected and took him off guard as he and Griss sheathed their blades. It was young, feminine, and pleasing to the ears, if not also a bit callous. “Now, the real questions are why have you traveled to the dark wood when it is forbidden? And why have you kept company with ravenous Hunterbeasts when they wantonly kill our kind?”

  The questions required answers, but Zam was still caught by her voice, and as such spoke his surprise. “You’re a girl.”

  She snapped, “Chief Guardian Tara Neereth, Guardian of Valkiliar Keep! My gender bears no relevance to these questions. Now answer! or I will have Corben let fly another bolt. Would you care to guess where it will land?”

  Corben set his aim toward Griss, and Zam spoke quickly, feeling incredibly foolish for his response. “Guardian Neereth–” The name hit him. Lord Neereth was the one who took Raine and ultimately sent her away as a common slave. Zam was suddenly afraid to answer truthfully, but also feared answering any other way. “I am Zam Windwater. This is my companion Griss Corwise. We traveled through Darlandis—the Dark Wood as you call it—from lands in the south, where it is not known to be forbidden, merely dangerous. As for the Hunterbeasts you speak of, I can only assume you mean the Black and Silver Farrix. We–”