by Kay L. Ling
A soft whistle sounded behind her. She turned, breathless and shaking.
What she saw was impossible—a little man about three-and-a-half feet tall with a dark, shaggy beard. She strained to see in the darkness. His features, while not unpleasant, were clearly not human. He wore loose-fitting pants and a long tunic. All she could think of was Gnome. With an unmistakable look of panic, he motioned for her to follow. Was he trying to help her? Why? Did she really care? This was all so unreal. She supposed it couldn’t hurt to follow him. Still, she hesitated.
The echoing blast of hunting horns came again, closer now. The little man bolted into the trees. Whoever he was, wherever he planned to take her, it had to be better than staying here. She ran after him. How would she ever keep up? He dodged between trees and jumped over fallen branches, never slowing, despite having only the moon and stars for light.
After a few minutes they broke through the edge of the pine forest. Now they ran between huge oaks, maples and beech. How much farther? Where was he going? Would he just keep running until they dropped of exhaustion?
They passed through a grove of beech trees, and just beyond he stumbled to a halt in front of a massive oak. Panting, Lana stopped beside him. Movement caught her eye and she jumped, stifling a shriek. A hand reached out from inside the tree.
Impossible!
Her guide laid a hand on her back and pushed gently. “We must go inside,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. “Hurry!”
Inside? How do we get inside a tree? The hand sticking through the tree waggled as if saying, “Come on!” It stretched farther still, and even though none of this made any sense, she reached out and took it. After a push from behind, and a tug from inside, she was inside the tree!
The white-haired gnome facing her had apparently pulled her in. He surveyed her critically. Her escort came in and stood beside the older gnome. Neither spoke.
Which was good, because she was utterly speechless.
Several mind-bending, impossibilities vied for her attention. First, the tree itself—a towering, round room, at least fifty feet across, lit from the base of the tree to the top by veins of dim light shining from the walls. How could the tree be hollow? And how could the interior be several times the size of the outside? The room, comfortably warm for a chilly evening, smelled like fresh air after a hard rain. Near one wall, roots twisted up from the floor and spread out to form small tables and stools.
On the opposite side of the tree room, a group of gnomes sat around a heap of glowing stones. Unlike a wood or coal fire, the stones didn’t give off smoke or ash. The gnomes’ conversation was so boisterous it was a wonder she hadn’t heard them from outside. They didn’t look up. They probably hadn’t even noticed her.
What odd little beings. They weren’t ugly or frightening but they clearly weren’t human. Bushy brows like untrimmed hedges sat over their deep-set eyes. Their bulbous noses were too long by human standards of beauty, and their chins, which jutted out prominently, nearly touched their chests since they had very short necks. Many of the males had shoulder-length hair, without much regard for style, and their beards surely hadn’t seen a pair of scissors for years. The women wore waist-length hair held back by a simple leather thong. Males and females dressed alike in loose-fitting trousers and tunics in colors that blended with nature: tan, rust, brown, green and black.
Lana’s rescuers didn’t say a word, as if waiting for her to catch her breath and take in her surroundings. Finally, her escort said sternly, “I don’t know why you’re here after dark, but you were in danger. You’re lucky I found you.”
The white-haired gnome scowled at him. “It wasn’t wise to bring her here, but it’s done now.”
“If I had left her behind, what would have become of her?”
This was awkward. The white-haired gnome must be one of the leaders, and he wasn’t happy about her being here. Who or what had they rescued her from?
The old gnome answered her question before she found the courage to ask. “At night, beings from a world called Shadow come to this forest. We gnomes would never hurt you, but the breghlin would. Never come here after dark.”
Another world? She certainly hadn’t expected that! A hundred questions raced through her mind.
“My name is Raenihel,” the old gnome continued. “I’m the leader of our clan. We watch over this land, just as our ancestors have done for many generations. This is Gliaphon, one of our scouts.”
She had a tendency to babble when she was nervous, and she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and offend her rescuers. Should she apologize or just explain why she was here? “My name is Lana. I would have left the park—I wanted to—but my car wouldn’t start so I camped in the woods.”
“That was dangerous, but of course you didn’t know that,” Gliaphon said. “Just beyond our Tree Home is a membrane that separates your world from ours. At night the membrane weakens enough for us to cross. We’ll go back through that portal at dawn, as will the breghlin, since we don’t wish to be seen.”
A portal between worlds. Here. In County Forest Park. Her voice came out a little shaky. “I heard voices and horns. I’m pretty sure someone was tracking me.”
Raenihel nodded. “The breghlin, no doubt. Long ago they were gnomes like us, but now their features are so hideous they barely resemble us, and they are brutal, evil creatures.”
Gliaphon added, “They delight in every sort of mischief and cruelty. If they saw you, they’d blow their horns and summon others to hunt you.”
Lana shivered. Her quiet day in the park had taken an unpleasant twist.
“Don’t worry,” Gliaphon said, “You’re safe here. They can’t come in.”
“This is all so strange,” she murmured, “I had no idea.” By day County Forest Park was completely safe. After dark, its character changed completely. She started to shake. The idea of monstrous beings from another world hunting her was too much.
“Wait here a moment,” Raenihel told her, his expression softening. He walked to the circle of gnomes and interrupted their conversation. She couldn’t make out what he said, but they all turned to look at her, and then Raenihel motioned for her to join them.
“Come,” Gliaphon said. “Raenihel is stern but kind. If he seemed ill tempered, blame it on the burden of his responsibilities. He will introduce you to the others. Don’t be afraid. We gnomes are more familiar with humans than you are with us.”
She felt awkward as she approached their circle. Did she look as odd to them as they did to her?
“This is Lana,” Raenihel announced, “a guest under our protection.” He didn’t attempt to introduce her to each of the gnomes. She glanced around the circle and smiled, unnerved by their scrutiny.
Gliaphon said in her ear, “We have unusual names. I can introduce you to everyone later if you like.”
“Now you must have a cup of fialazza with us,” Raenihel said. It sounded more like a command than a suggestion. “You’ll find it calming.”
The gnomes moved aside and opened a space for her, Gliaphon, and Raenihel to sit. She and her escorts sat down cross-legged like the others. Her eyes flicked from face to face, and when she didn’t see anything menacing in their expressions, she started to relax. A young female picked up a wooden goblet and poured red liquid into it from a flask. The gnomes passed the goblet from hand to hand until it reached her. She stared into the cup warily. There was no telling what this stuff was. Raenihel nodded encouragement and the others watched with amused smiles.
I’ve got to drink it. The gnomes saved my life. How can I act as if I don’t trust them?
Cautiously, she took a sip. The fluid was slightly sweet and tasted like fruit, but it wasn’t any flavor she could identify. After several more sips, it was clear that the drink wasn’t intoxicating, but Raenihel was right, it made her feel calm and relaxed. At the same time, it sharpened her senses and heightened her awareness, rather like a gem power. Amazing! She could make a fortune if she could reproduce
this stuff!
She leaned closer to Gliaphon and said, “You said the breghlin couldn’t come in here. Are they a threat to your people?”
“Yes, if they find us in the open where there are no trees for refuge. Breghlin live in the barren wastelands. We live in forested hills.” He frowned, as if searching for the right words. “The breghlin can’t Walk Like the Wind, which is the way we travel if we need to avoid danger. You see, we woodland gnomes can pass from tree to tree by using our minds to access their multi-dimensional space.”
She tried to digest that. Gnomes could pass through the insides of trees and stay out of the breghlins’ reach. She was sitting in a multi-dimensional room right now, so he had to be telling the truth, but what an odd concept. “Raenihel said you’re a scout. Do you watch for breghlin, or are you watching for humans?”
“We watch for changes in this forest of any kind. The area surrounding your side of the portal is a special place. We call it the Amulet. It protects your world from those who don’t belong.”
“Protects us? How?”
“The Amulet confines intruders within its boundaries so they can’t go any further. Lately, breghlin have been coming through the portal every night, which is unusual. Something has changed and that’s troubling. We must keep watch.”
Lana sipped her fialazza. She was glad he was willing to confide in her, but his answers left her worried and confused. “When I walked through the lowlands, I felt someone watching me. The feeling went away after I climbed the hill to the pine forest. I felt safer there, so I tried to sleep. Noises woke me—voices and hunting horns. I didn’t hang around to see who it was. I grabbed my stuff and ran.” She looked around the circle. The gnomes had all stopped talking and were listening to her. “I heard a dog bark. I think it must have found my blanket. Now it has my scent and—”
Raenihel stiffened. “A dog, you say? Here at night?”
Gliaphon nodded. “Yes, I heard it, too. But don’t jump to conclusions, Raenihel. It might be a normal dog.”
Lana’s heart thudded dully in her chest. What did he mean—it might be a normal dog?
The gnomes whispered among themselves.
Raenihel looked increasingly alarmed. “The park closes at night and visitors don’t leave their dogs behind. A dog here at night? Yes, I fear the worst.”
“What do you mean, it might be a normal dog?” Lana asked sharply. “What else would it be?”
Gliaphon and Raenihel exchanged furtive glances, and then Raenihel stroked his beard and stared at the glowing stones. “Very well, I will tell you the legend. The dog we speak of is a black wolfhound, but once it was human. During the full moon the beast’s human mind returns, and it bays at the moon in torment, or so the legend says.”
Another gnome broke in. “If the wolfhound is here—”
A pointed look from Raenihel silenced him.
“We should investigate,” said a gray-haired gnome across the circle, ignoring any signals from Raenihel. “The wolfhound is a sign.”
Gliaphon leaned closer to Raenihel and whispered something that Lana could barely hear, but it sounded like, “The woman could be a help.”
Investigate? Go look for a wolfhound that used to be human? Count me out. I’m afraid of normal dogs!
“We must know whether the wolfhound is here,” the gray-haired gnome insisted. “We should search tonight. If we find it, we’ll send someone to warn the other clans.”
Several gnomes agreed. The entire company rose, talking at once.
“You’re all going?” Lana asked, alarmed. Which was worse, being left behind or being asked to go?
“We could use your help, Lana,” Gliaphon said. “Will you go with us?”
“What help could I be? What if it attacks us?”
“It won’t attack. Actually, it’s not the dog we fear, it’s someone else.” Raenihel looked reluctant to say more.
His cryptic answer was less than satisfying. “You may not be afraid of the wolfhound, but I am. I’m afraid of dogs.”
“We won’t force you to come, but if you do, Gliaphon and I will take your hands and we will Walk Like the Wind through the trees. That way, the wolfhound can’t catch us.”
Her mind raced. What should she do? She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to stay here alone. If the gnomes didn’t come back for hours, she’d just have to wait, trapped in this tree. On the other hand, staying here was probably safer than looking for an enchanted wolfhound.
For the second time tonight she had to make a choice between two alternatives that she didn’t like. Her decision to camp in the woods had seemed safer than staying in the car and look where that had gotten her. She drank more fialazza and felt herself relax, and after a moment she decided this was all rather exciting and sort of fun, despite being dangerous. She swallowed her remaining fialazza in three big gulps and set down her cup with a thud. Decide. Now. She stood and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t regret it.
Gliaphon and Raenihel stood on either side of her. She placed her hands in theirs and took a deep breath. In the next moment, she understood why the dog could never catch them.
Chapter 5
Lana and the gnomes passed from one tree into the next like a leaf blown by the wind. Glimpses of tree rooms flickered by as she clung to the gnomes’ hands. What would happen if they let go of her? Slightly woozy, she closed her eyes. When the sensation of movement stopped, she found the courage to look. She and her escorts stood at the far edge of the pine forest looking down a hill. Raenihel and Gliaphon let go of her.
“Are you all right?” Gliaphon whispered.
Good question. She swayed on wobbly legs. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. That was amazing!” She wanted to discuss her experience, but Raenihel’s clan stood a few feet away looking down at the lowlands, understandably anxious to begin the search.
What would the gnomes find down there? The breghlin and the dog had probably returned to a campsite near the streamside trail. The gnomes were sure to search there, and they couldn’t do that from inside a tree, so they would be vulnerable in the open. After the premonition of danger she’d felt along that trail, well, that was the last place she wanted to go.
Raenihel motioned the group forward. It was too late to back out now. She stayed close to Raenihel and Gliaphon as they walked down the hill, and at the bottom, she breathed a sigh of relief when they forged into the trees instead of heading for the streamside trail. She glanced back. The rest of the gnomes followed, moving as silently as the Indians she had imitated earlier. Not a twig snapped underfoot and their earth-toned clothing blended into the forest like camouflage, especially at night. She tried to imitate their stealth, but leaves crunched underfoot and twigs snapped as she pushed through the underbrush. She frowned in annoyance. Every creature in the forest probably heard her coming.
Tall trees, a couple hundred years old, grew beside long-dead trees that thrust up bare, leafless branches to the night sky. Rotting limbs covered in moss littered the ground. She shrank from a fungus the size of a dinner plate growing from a blackened stump. Huge vines like clinging snakes encircled some of the larger trees. She knew poison oak and poison ivy when she saw it and steered clear of trees with vines.
The ground itself was treacherous after dark. Innocent patches of ivy concealed rocky outcroppings. Stray roots poked through the soil, sure to trip careless travelers. Dry ground gave way unexpectedly to swampy patches that almost sucked off her sneakers. No wonder the park rangers had created marked trails for hikers. The streamside trail might be safer after all, she decided as she nearly tripped over a fallen branch. Good thing the gnomes had superior night vision. As long as she stuck close to Raenihel and Gliaphon, she might get through this in one piece. The gnomes walked slowly, not because they were groping in the dark. They were looking for signs of the hound. She sighed in frustration. So far, there had been no sign of the mysterious wolfhound. If only they would find someone’s lost mu
tt wandering in the woods so they could end this futile search and go home.
Dry leaves muttered overhead. The air grew colder the farther they walked, and gusts of wind like icy hands slipped beneath her clothing and probed her shivering body. She jumped every time a limb creaked ominously or a leaning tree moaned in the wind. The forest was unsettling after dark, even under the best of circumstances. Several times the gnomes stopped to examine footprints or animal tracks, but they found nothing alarming. The footprints were human, not breghlin, and the animal tracks were just deer.
If breghlin were here, they must be on the other side of the stream. She scanned the far bank. For all she knew, they could be hiding in those trees right now. From the gnomes’ description, breghlin were hideous, misshapen ogres, and she didn’t want to see one in person. Against her will she imagined them sitting around a campfire gnawing the bones of some hapless gnome. Worse, dragging her unconscious body through the woods and roasting her on a spit. Stop it! You’re letting your imagination run wild!
She stared at the trees on the other side of the stream, wishing her fears were groundless, but if Gliaphon hadn’t come along and the breghlin had caught her, well, it was best not to think about that. A few days ago she’d loved every inch of this forest, but not anymore. It was the habitat of monsters.
She stumbled, glimpsing movement from the corner of her eye. What was that? Something moved between those trees! Heart racing, she stopped, straining to see in the darkness, but of course now that she was watching, nothing moved. Whatever it was, if there had been anything at all, it was probably gone now. Just watch the woods ahead. Never mind the streambank. With her luck, she’d run smack into a breghlin while staring at the woods across the stream.
Eventually, younger gnomes moved into the lead and Raenihel and Gliaphon didn’t object. Maybe it was better this way. Someone else could be the advance scouts for a while. If it were up to her, she’d turn back now. How long before the gnomes gave up and went home? There was no sign of the dog, and hunting for it was a waste of time. She hugged herself for warmth and kept walking. The effects of the fialazza were wearing off—along with her taste for adventure.