The next thing Keldron remembered was waking up to a vision of cloud. He rolled over, or at least he tried to. He found that his arms had been tied, as had his ankles. More than that, on either side of him one of his friends had been bound in a similar manner. The scuddy grey sky intruded upon his vision and as he tried to roll, he knocked his two friends awake. “What? What's happening?” yelled a confused Raoul, “Where are we? Why are we tied up? Who has done this to us?”
“Patience, my brother. Let us see if we can find a way to calmly get out of this. Struggling will only bind your knots tighter and you well know that.”
“It was the lake,” Belyn murmured to himself.
“We were going to the lake. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever beheld. How did that lead us to where we are now?” Keldron tried to move his hand enough that he could scratch a nagging itch but not surprisingly he found that he couldn't quite reach.
“I think you will be able to scratch easier if we loosen your bindings, my friends,” a quiet but deep voice murmured from some point out of sight. The three of them were hoisted up with at least some care, and felt the ropes slacken, as they were finally undone. Keldron scratched vigorously at the back of his arm as he vanquished the itch that had annoyed him. Rubbing the circulation back into his hands he turned to find a solitary figure.
Long dark hair was loose and flowing over the back of his shoulders. His eyes were as dark as his hair and his face was tanned and had that chiselled look that spoke of living a life where hardship was a custom. He was taller than even Raoul, and carried an air about him that spoke of danger. The green and brown clothes he wore almost made him merge into the forest behind. He bowed, and when he stood again he spoke. “May the Pine heal your hurts.”
Keldron knew this; it was part of the ancient benediction spoken by the Merdonese traders at the conclusion of a deal. He also knew its counterpart. “And shelter you when you wander,” he finished.
The stranger smiled pleasantly, evidently pleased that he had found someone who knew of his people. “You are well then.”
“Why would we not be?” answered Raoul, who was still trying to figure out what had happened between their last memory of the lake and now.
The man pointed out to his right. “Over there you were in great peril. You would have not lasted much longer had we not saved you.” Keldron looked to where the man pointed. He saw the gap between the tall trees that they had taken, and then he saw the lake. It was not as they had seen it before; it was murky and brown, with the skeletons of long dead trees poking through its surface like needles through a seamstress' cloth.”
“It is different. Before, when we saw it, the lake was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. How is it so radically different now?”
“That is the lure of the place,” the man replied whilst leaning upon a spear, his hands gripped tightly just below the metal tip. He was totally at ease but Keldron doubted that it would take him long should he choose to use that spear in some way. It was just an ordinary hunting spear, not the ritual carved spear with the crosspiece that had been recovered from the recent spat of impalings. The man continued. “This lake is bewitched. To those that have never seen it, the lake becomes paradise incarnate. As soon as they set their sights upon it, all they can think about is being here.”
“That is exactly how I felt,” added Raoul. “I was at home here, at peace. There was no other place for me to go nor reason for me to leave.”
The dark stranger nodded in agreement. “Exactly how it works. The bewitchment of the lake draws the unwary in. Not just to this place, but actually into the lake. Never make the mistake of drinking of its water; the water of the lake is highly poisonous, even corrosive.” To prove the point he walked over to the water's edge and dipped the metal tip of his spear into the lake. What looked to Keldron like vapour swirled around the surface of the water where the spear had been plunged. After a moment the man drew the spear back out of the water and showed them the tip. What had once been pristine clear metal was now etched and scarred like it was thirty years old. Even the wood at the base of the tip had been affected by its proximity to the water, and had blackened.
The man reversed the spear and planted it in the ground, leaning on the unaffected end. “You were on your way into the lake. It is part of the bewitchment and the way the lake keeps itself effective. When we found you, you were only feet away from the water's edge.”
Raoul was looking in shock at the water, reviled by the mere fact that he was feet from certain death and he had never known. Keldron could understand it; he too felt the same, as did Belyn, he was sure of it. How could three people with such powers of concentration and mind training be beguiled by a simple bewitchment? “It catches the unwary, doesn't it? We were not expecting to see this and that is how we were caught.”
The man nodded. “The lake entices people to drink, and then once they have drunk they barely have time to stand before they topple in to the lake itself. We have seen this happen when we have been too late to stop them.”
“How would you stop someone?” asked an intrigued and yet still somewhat disturbed Raoul.
“The lake's spell makes people lethargic and slow of movement. They remain persistent in their goal to reach the lake, but have no clue as to what we are doing. Whilst the bewitchment works, they see nothing of the real world; feel nothing that is going on around them. The horses as you can see were unharmed. Never underestimate the intelligence of a horse. They could easily see past the spell of the lake. You three however were mere yards from its edge. We tied your hands and then tripped you up. We then tied your legs and dragged you over here. You would have known nothing until the lake sensed it would not get a victim. Somehow it knows this. Once you have escaped it, it will not try to trap you again. It is part of the magic that surrounds the lake. Once you can see it for what it really is, a part of you knows that it could never be anything like you imagined. The horror of what it is trying to do to people fortifies the mind against further beguilement.”
Keldron looked up at the sky. By the light and the glow of the sun through the scuddy sky he judged that they had been there most of the day. “We have been tied for most of the day by the look of things.” Their saviour nodded again, which Keldron assumed meant he was correct in the assumption.
“Almost. You have been here for over a day. The lake was reluctant to relinquish its hold on you. Only just has it ceased its malevolent activity.” That left Keldron and his colleagues gob smacked. He thought, as they both did, that they had been there a short time only. Immediately he thought of the contents of the wagon, and how long they had been left untended. They would be massively hampered in their search were they to lose the stones. But knowing what he did about the lake, Keldron could not help but feel the malevolence emanating from it. It was as if the lake knew they knew about it, and hated them all the more.
“Do not worry, your horses have been tended and your wagon has been left alone. We would not rob innocent victims; that is dishonourable.”
Belyn grinned with an evil twinkle in his eye. “Is that to say that you would have robbed us were we other certain people?”
The man shifted his stance, leaning more upon the staff minus the rotted spear tip that was now non-existent. “There are those who seek to plunder in the forest, and those we do not appreciate. We find it best to relieve them of property that belonged to either us, or our friends in the villages. It is only fair that we do this, as anything they have, they will have gained by unfair means.”
“That is fair enough,” answered Belyn. “We met one a ways back who proffered the same opinion. He said you felt as a community that these intruders were not welcome.”
This caught the man's attention. “The man who said this – will you describe where you met him and what he said?”
“Sure.” Belyn scratched the chin of his beard with thumb and forefinger whilst he thought for a second. “It was just after the ferry crossing
on the Hotiari. He told us that there were marauders coming across from the city side of the river and they were causing havoc in the forest. He said that although you followed the old Law, there were circumstances in which you could not. This we agreed with heartily. He was a man encased in mud, but I have never in my life seen someone dressed as so radiate such an aura of passion, or insight, for lack of a better word. His name was Eregon.”
The man smiled and bowed his head. “For that man we have a profound respect. He is the warden of the forest; a man of great power. How did he send you here?”
Sensing that the truth was the only thing this man wanted, Keldron beat Belyn to the answer. “He told us that by a ruined building there would be a path out behind it, and to follow that path instead of the main one, which would take us through the forest but not anywhere near where we wished to go. He did not however tell us about this lake.”
The man bowed, his hair falling past his head as he did so to hang like some rippling black curtain. “You must forgive us for that. It is somewhat a defence for our village. We maintain a constant vigil against those who are unwelcome, and those who mean harm are usually exposed. When under the spell, they tend to talk about everything in a dream like haze. We would know those who mean us ill.”
This did not sit well with Raoul. “What gives you the right to judge how guilty a man is by what he says? How can you know someone so well by what comes out of his mouth? How can you tell what sort of person I am by what I said? It could have been anything.” Patient as he had been so far, the man just stood there, enduring Raoul's frustrated tirade.
When Raoul had finished, the man continued. “Let me give you examples of how we know you were judged by your words. You talked constantly about the old Law, and how it directed your purpose. You are zealous to a fault, but that is not always a bad trait. Your large red friend talked about the properties of stone and how he was on the verge of discovery. In fact he talked about nothing else. The mystery was you.” The man raised a hand and pointed to Keldron.
“Me, why?”
“You talked about seeking the truth, and you talked about something you call the Night of Spears. You talked about seeking the dark ones responsible. This intrigued some, and worried others who believed you could bring harm to us. Are we not of the rough description you gave?”
Keldron cursed the fact that his mind could slip so. This could have had terrible consequences were they to have let him into the lake. “Yes you are of the description I have, but I am not after retribution of any type. I am merely seeking a reason behind it. I cannot believe…”
The man held up his hand. “We heard enough when you were bewitched. You do not have to explain yourself to me. If we considered you a threat you would be rotting in the lake. Instead, join me for a couple of day's travel to a place where I hope your questions might be answered.”
“Who is 'we'?” asked Raoul. “I have heard you say 'we' several times since we have met, but I have so far seen evidence of only you.”
“The others left to inform the village as soon as you were secure,” the man answered as he gathered up his belongings, which seemed to consist of the spear and a dun coloured bag that Keldron could have sworn was not on the ground before he picked it up. “Fear not, Law Wizard, for others will be on their way to replace me. With the time it took for the spell to wear off, they will surely be here soon.”
As the man turned to lead the way, Keldron and Belyn climbed into the wagon. Raoul for once did not. Instead he walked alongside the man. “You must have me mistaken, friend. I am no wizard of Law. I have never heard of such a thing.”
The man raised his eyebrows as if dismissing what Raoul had just said. “You are what you are. No more, no less. By what you said under the spell, you have proclaimed yourself to be a Wizard of Law. That is an honourable title, but one that caries much peril. Be warned.”
As Raoul was speaking in front to the man, Keldron and Belyn were sorting the wagon and horses; that was to say that Raoul was checking the horses whilst trying to drive the wagon too. Belyn was more concerned with the state of his goods. The focus appeared to be intact, unless one of similar abilities had been meddling. If this was the case then Belyn could not see it. He uncovered one of the boxes to find his collection of stones intact, and breathing a sigh of relief, he rejoined Keldron up the front of the wagon. Sensing Belyn's obvious relief, Keldron knew that their would-be captor was as good as his word. Nothing had appeared to have been touched, and the horses were indifferent to having waited around while they had been under the spell. They had been fed and watered, hopefully not from the same source as whatever was supplying the lake, Keldron hoped. Not that anything that had sampled such filth would survive long enough to have seen them wake from their captured slumber. The wagon creaked as Keldron slowly urged the horses into motion, and they followed slowly after the other two men. They followed around a long and subtle bend in the road, and when Belyn stood to peer back it was as if the lake had never existed. They were back to the loamy track that absorbed noise like a bath sponge. The trees on this side of the lake were as big as those passed before, but seemed more delicate. Smaller branches were evident as if the trees here hadn't grown at the pace of the others, leaving the earth in their quest for sunlight. It was not that the trees were any less imposing, just that they were even more beautiful for this obvious delicacy.
As they caught up with Raoul and their captor cum guide, Keldron slowed the wagon to a crawl. Listening in, he could hear that they were discussing the application of the Old Law, and its use in everyday life. Keldron smiled. One of Raoul's favourite subjects, he would debate this with anyone. He had obviously found a willing listener, as Raoul was well into his debate about how it could be followed strictly. The tribesman was not in agreement with everything though, and as the day wore on, the patient but strained voices of the debaters rose steadily. Even though they were close to the wagon, the sound seemed to not travel very far, so it was that despite the level of noise, they were able to hear muffled footfalls coming from along the track. Three more of the tribesmen walked into view, each carrying the same equipment, the dun bag and spear. They exchanged the greeting before one looked at the three newcomers.
“You have survived then. That is good. There are questions that need answering and you must provide the knowledge we seek.” The man who had spoken looked of a similar ilk to the others. It was obvious that the tribesmen dressed in a similar fashion. This one though had his hair in a plait with silver bands encircling it. Without pausing for further comment, the others were quickly on their way.
“Fantastic conversationalists,” observed Belyn, who quickly resumed his tallying of inventory; he was not convinced all was well unless he had personally gone through everything. It passed the time on such a journey, Keldron supposed. Their guide let slip a small smile.
“We do not find the need for such a thing, not with the beauty that surrounds us.” “Did you not see fit to encourage them to hurry up, lest the next unwary victim get caught?”
“There is no other unwary party in this part of the woods, or we would know,” he replied as they resumed their slow trek through the magnificence of the woodland. “How would you know this?” Asked Keldron, his curiosity piqued by the man's answers. Even flying along on horseback along a direct route, it would have taken days for anyone to have reached the ferryman for information and then got back in front of them.
“I am afraid you will have to be patient, seeker of answers. The answers that await you lie down this track, but they are not moving. We need not hurry because the answers will find us, and not be caught by your prying.” To this Raoul added a harrumph.
“He won't even tell me his name. He says that to speak it outside of his village is sacrilege and he will suffer the most dreadful of consequences should he do so.”
“The Law Wizard speaks most truthfully,” added the guide.
“Be patient, honoured ones, for no outsider has ever been this way
before. Marvel in the sights you see, for few if any will rival the beauty of the forests' heart.”
The travellers slowly made their way along the track, and it was as the guide had said, the sights they beheld went beyond picturesque. Keldron realised that he was felling the way he did before the lake, but there was a noticeable difference. Before he felt as if sleep was going to overtake him, whereas now there was none of that. A gentle awareness seemed to exude form every living thing around him, as if every creature, every tree knew him and his purpose. They passed a stag, browsing the roadside for a choice patch of vegetation. It raised its' head and stared at them through liquid brown eyes. There was no look of fear in those eyes, nor even one of curiosity. It just watched these strange beings pass with a steady gaze, as if nothing could phase it. The trees were full of songbirds, adding their own melodies to the ambience. They sat in pairs or trios and chattered away. Keldron felt that were he to hold out his hand, a bird would flutter down and perch on it. Already a pair of song thrushes had taken possession of the roof of the wagon and were chattering noisily. Keldron wondered if the fact that not much could put him off of his concentration helped at all, for the songs of the birds were more than enough to do that to others.
He was loath to let his guard down after what had happened before. As he thought about concentrating, a feeling came to him. The guide turned and smiled gently, an odd expression for one who looked so deadly.
“You cannot truly appreciate it until you can surrender to it.” Keldron felt as if they were the only two sentient beings in a picture of such artistry, where the artist had made the world around them.
“What do you mean?”
“This is different to your previous experience. To feel what we feel you must accept the forest for what it is, a friend and not a foe.” “I don't understand. Is this not a bewitchment? It feels similar to before.”
The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1) Page 15