Beyond the Forest

by Kay L. Ling

  She gave it an appraising glance as something occurred to her. Energy, or lack thereof? Time for another experiment.

  She carried the stone to the grass at the edge of the parking lot, left it there and went back to her car. This time when she turned the key the engine started without hesitation. “Yes!”

  She looked at her watch. It was running again. No need for the hammer after all. This was starting to make sense. The stone interfered with energy—blocked it somehow. Maybe it siphoned off energy, too, but judging by the fact that her watch battery still worked, it was more likely that the stone just blocked the transference of energy. So, she couldn’t drive off with the stone, but maybe she could carry it away. That would be her next experiment. Raenihel had said that the protective area, the Amulet, kept outsiders from entering her world. Did it only stop people? For all she knew, maybe nothing from outside could go through. If that were the case, what would happen to a foreign object when it reached the boundary? Would it just stop there? Disappear? Disintegrate? She would love to find out, but she couldn’t take a chance with the stone.

  But I have something else!

  Grabbing the green bedroll from the back seat, she set it beside her. Perfect! You’re my guinea pig! Wait. She was getting ahead of herself. First, she had to take care of the stone—hide it.

  Taking no chances, she left the car running. She picked up the stone and looked around for a hiding place where no one would find it. Maybe in the woods. She walked to the nearest trailhead and saw a rotted stump that would be easy to identify. Perfect.

  Using a broken branch with a sharp end, she dug a hole at the base of the stump, put her prize inside, backfilled, and smoothed the dirt. Standing by the hole, she stared at the ground. Yesterday had started out as a normal Saturday, and then she’d come here.

  If I hadn’t taken this stone I wouldn’t have been stranded here. This crazy adventure would never have happened.

  Why did she have to be the one to discover all of this? Why couldn’t it be someone older and wiser—someone who would know what to do?

  Leaves swayed gently in the breeze as she drove to the exit. By day, the forest looked so peaceful and safe.

  She pulled onto the main road. Music was what she needed. Loud music. She didn’t want to think about the portal, or the frightening world on the other side. She glanced toward the radio and noticed something.

  The green bedroll was gone.

  Chapter 8

  Lana piled research books on the kitchen table, and then went to make a pot of coffee. Strong coffee. Of course she should sleep, at least a few hours, before hitting the books, but how could she? She was too anxious to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the strange stone wasn’t from this world. Any gemologist would feel the same way. She grabbed a banana and some yogurt while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

  One hour turned into two, and then three before she closed the last book and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead wearily. She had checked every book and magazine on this table, and she hadn’t found anything that looked like the specimen from the park. The odd stone was clearly not from this world. She gave a rueful smile. Too bad she couldn’t name her discovery after herself, but she couldn’t even show the stone to anyone.

  Her head hurt and her eyes felt dry. Little wonder after looking at several hundred pages and thousands of photos. A nap would help—an hour or two on the couch. She stretched out, closed her eyes, and was out immediately. When she woke it was nearly suppertime. She sighed in annoyance. How had she slept so long? At least her headache was gone, but now she’d wasted most of the day, and she had so many things she wanted to do. For one, she wanted to talk to Dad. Not about the weird stone, even though that would be fun, but about gemstones in general. Despite their mutual interest in gemstones and jewelry, they had never discussed gem lore.

  Dad was a down-to-earth, practical sort, so she avoided subjects like that. Not that he would outwardly poke fun at her. He was far too kind for that, but she didn’t want him to think less of her. Still, she needed to know where he stood on the subject, and the only way to find out was to ask.

  When she arrived at her parents’ she saw Mom first and chatted for a few minutes. As expected, Dad was in his woodworking shop. He loved to restore old furniture. Few pieces were too damaged to be saved, he always said, and he enjoyed the challenge. Sometimes he rescued pieces left by the curb on trash day. He couldn’t resist. They were like stray puppies that needed his love. Mom wasn’t always so thrilled with his projects, but she humored him. Lana owned a few pieces that Dad had generously provided now that she had her own place.

  Moving a can of varnish off a three-legged stool, she sat and watched her father refinish a small, two-drawer end table. He had stripped the old finish from the table and made a new leg to match the missing one. Now he was applying new stain and varnish. Even with a window open for ventilation, the workshop smelled like fresh-cut wood, turpentine, and varnish.

  They exchanged pleasantries about the weather, and then chatted about her brothers, nieces and nephews. She wasn’t sure how to segue into the subject of gem lore. When their conversation finally hit a lull, she took a deep breath and said, “You know how much I love gems, but we’ve never talked about my pet interest.”

  Dad paused, varnish brush in hand, and looked up with a smile. “What pet interest is that?”

  “Gemstone legends and folklore.” There was no going back now even though she felt awkward. “Since ancient times, people have believed that some gems have healing properties, and others affect moods and personality traits. They can bring love or luck. You know. That sort of thing.”

  “Well now,” Dad said as he went back to work, “I’ve read about such things, but since it’s just mythology, I never bothered to study it. Are many people interested in folklore these days?”

  Dad wasn’t an imaginative person like her, and she wasn’t surprised that “mythology” didn’t interest him. “It’s more popular than it used to be. Some customers aren’t into it, but quite a few are. Most of them go to gem and mineral shows. People who collect individual specimens tend to be interested in anything gemstone-related.”

  Dad gave her an appraising look. “I’ve never set up at gem and mineral shows. I was always too busy running the store. Arlene would complain if I added anything to her workload, but you could do a show.”

  Lana was momentarily at a loss for words. She hadn’t been hinting. Quite honestly, she hadn’t even thought of doing a show. The idea appealed to her, though. She’d be independent. No Arlene hanging over her shoulder. “I’ll look into it if you think it’s a good idea.”

  “Yes, absolutely.” He laid down his brush, pushed a stack of newspapers off an old bentwood rocker and plopped into it, looking genuinely excited. “It’s a great idea! I’m sorry I didn’t think of it. Your talents are going to waste at the moment, but you need a little longer to get the feel of things before you take over the business. Gem shows would be a great way to get more experience.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “If you want to sell common garnets and topaz you can, and if you want to peddle magic gems, you can do that, too!”

  Lana laughed, more amused than offended by the magic gem remark. “So, you think gem lore is humbug, but you don’t think I’m silly for studying it?”

  “Silly? No. Come to think of it, your grandfather used to talk about such things. I never paid much attention. My mind was on the more practical aspects of the jewelry store. As you know, I learned most of my gem identification and stone-setting skills from Dad. Picked up the rest on my own. I never went to school like you did. I’m very proud of you. I hope you know that.”

  She smiled and sat a little straighter. Compliments always embarrassed her.

  Dad leaned back in the chair and rocked absently with a distant look in his eyes. “I wish you had known your Grandpa Carl better, but you were barely seven when he passed. Your brothers, being so much older than you, got to listen
to his stories about running the store back in the old days.”

  “So, was he interested in folklore?”

  “I don’t think he put much stock in it himself, but he told me a few tales. Stories passed down in the family.”

  “Do you remember any?”

  “Most of the tales originated with Elias, I think, in the late 1800s. Carl said people used to believe that gems protected them from danger. There were other gems that gave people better eyesight, or took away ailments like arthritis or gallstones. One gemstone supposedly gave the user telepathic powers.” He shook his head at the thought and gave a little laugh. “Another one was supposed to make a person invisible. Oh, and he told me several stories about poison.”

  “Poison?”

  “If you were invited to someone’s home for dinner, and you suspected foul play, you carried a gem that sweat moisture or turned dark in the presence of poison.”

  “Sweating gems. That’s a new one. I’ll have to add that to my files.” She couldn’t help feeling disappointed that most of her family viewed gem lore as fanciful tales. If any of them had taken it seriously, it had probably been Elias. “I love hearing family history,” she said. “Especially anything to do with the store. Most people can’t say they’re part of a family business that’s been around for five generations.”

  Dad absently brushed sawdust off his pant legs. “I’ll admit, I found the business more duty than pleasure at first, but I was grateful for the start in life. I liked to be my own boss. Eventually I came to enjoy my work.”

  “I guess the family passion for jewelry skipped a generation, and I got it.”

  “Yes, I think so.” He stopped rocking and sat forward in his chair. “Speaking of passed down, I should give you a few things now while I’m thinking about it. Things related to the store. You’re the one who should have them, since you’ll be taking over. Would you like that?”

  “Like it! Are you kidding? Absolutely!”

  Together they walked into the house. He took her to his den, pulled out the bottom right-hand desk drawer, and lifted out a slightly squashed cardboard box tied with a faded red ribbon.

  “This box has some old pictures, a few letters, and a very early notebook with comments about gemstones. You’ll probably find some of it interesting, especially the notebook.”

  How could she not find it interesting? This was her family’s history. She would look at every picture and read every letter. Reverently, she took the box from his hands. She could hardly wait to get home and look inside.

  Chapter 9

  The kitchen table was a mess, so Lana went straight to her bedroom, settled onto her bed, and pulled the box onto her lap. This was more exciting than getting presents at Christmas. She lifted the lid and started with the top layer: old black-and-white photographs. Several pictures showed her grandfather or great-grandfather working in the store—tall, dignified men in suits. She’d seen other photos of them, years ago, so their faces looked vaguely familiar.

  Most of the photos just showed the store, with no people in the photos. From the late 1800s through the early 1920s, Peterson’s Pharmacy and Harold’s Five and Dime had flanked Grayson Jewelers. Apparently both of those Main Street businesses had succumbed to The Great Depression because other names appeared on their brick facades in later photos.

  She studied an interior photo. Even though the store had changed with the times, she recognized it. Wouldn’t it be fun if she could see inside those old showcases? Everything would be antiques now. And look at those fancy brass chandeliers—impressive but a bit too ornate, especially for a small town jewelry store.

  She picked up a photo of the office. Not much had changed. The paneling and bookcases were the same, and even those Hudson River style oil paintings she had admired for years. And there, over the file cabinet, hung the framed news story about the store. Look, the old regulator clock in exactly the same spot as today. She shook her head in amazement. This photo was a great find. Why was it laying in a musty old box? It deserved a place of honor. When she was manager, she’d have it framed and put it on her desk.

  Under the photos lay a stack of letters, some in envelopes and some loose. One small envelope felt empty. She pulled out a note-size paper that only had numbers: 14 35 72. How odd.

  She skimmed through all the letters to see which held general family news and which were about the store. The personal letters, discussing important events like engagements, weddings and funerals, were from relatives whose name she recognized. She’d read them all thoroughly, but not now. The notebook was waiting at the bottom of the box and she was dying to read it.

  The last item before the notebook was a business correspondence. The curious note, written in neat, elegant handwriting read:

  Elias,

  I will proceed according to your recommendations:

  Chalcedony, Malachite, Hematite, Aquamarine, Topaz, Sapphire, Jasper, and Sugalite.

  A mixture of these should produce the desired benefits. I shall let you assess whether this proves true upon its completion, as you have more experience than I do in this regard.

  Very Truly Yours,

  Jules

  She read the note again. Desired benefits? Not desired appearance, desired benefits. Could he be talking about gem lore properties? What an odd combination of gems. She tried to picture a piece of jewelry that incorporated all of those gemstones. Who was Jules? As far as she knew he wasn’t a relative, so he must have been a customer or a friend.

  Now for the item she was most eager to see: great-great-grandfather Elias’s notebook. She lifted it out and flipped through the pages with growing excitement. This was even better than she’d hoped. It had lists of gemstones with detailed notes about their folklore. Finally! Someone in the family shared her passion for gem lore!

  Bending over the ledger, grinning like an idiot, her hands trembled with excitement. Elias had made notations about healing properties as well as the stones’ influences on mood and behavior. And look! He’d put a star beside some gems and a big X beside others. Hopefully, somewhere in the ledger he explained the marks or she’d drive herself crazy trying to figure it out.

  Now this was interesting. Toward the back of the ledger he’d listed pairs of gems. There were also groups of four to six, like the group in Jules’s letter. She might be wrong, but it looked as if he had grouped gems together because they had similar abilities. Other groups of stones didn’t fit that pattern, but he must have had a reason for listing them together. She had a wild idea. What if combining unrelated stones altered their powers? She reread the note from Jules:

  A mixture of these should produce the desired benefits. I shall let you assess whether this proves true upon its completion, as you have more experience than I do in this regard.

  Were Elias and Jules experimenting with various stone combinations, trying to produce specific powers? What a fascinating project, if so. She read the message again. Interesting. She hadn’t noticed before. Elias wasn’t making the piece, Jules was, based on Elias’s stone recommendations. So, maybe Jules was a fellow jeweler with an interest in gem lore.

  She closed the ledger and rubbed the cover absently. For years she’d collected gems and her collection was quite impressive. If gems became more powerful in Shadow as Raenihel claimed, maybe hers could help the gnomes, especially if combining gemstones enhanced their abilities. It was worth looking into. She didn’t want to be the gnomes’ new hero, but if her gems could form part of a defense strategy, she was willing to start with that and see what developed.

  * * *

  Two weeks passed in a blur of activity. When she wasn’t working at the store, Lana delved into gem lore and researched the gem-and-jewelry-show circuit. The gnomes were never far from her mind, though, and that was starting to bother her. In a few months she’d be taking over the store. How could she run a store while keeping tabs on County Forest Park and the gnomes? She couldn’t drop off her gem collection at the Tree Home and walk away. She didn’t
know if gnomes could draw out the gems’ powers. Maybe Raenihel and his clan were like most of the humans she knew who touched gems and got no reaction.

  Had anyone found Gliaphon or the others? She could still see the gnomes’ expectant faces, looking at her so hopefully and believing that armed with only her malachite bracelet she could stand up to Sheamathan. There had to be a solution. She wasn’t a believer in “fate” or “destiny” in the way some people thought of it—a fixed outcome that couldn’t be changed. But she did believe she had stumbled into this strange adventure for a reason. Saturday, she would go back to the forest and look for the gnomes.

  * * *

  Shortly after noon on Saturday, Lana locked her apartment and ran down the stairs with food and water, a compact reference book on gems, a flashlight, her cell phone, rain poncho and an assortment of useful items in her backpack. This time she was ready for almost anything. Under her T-shirt she wore her pouch with assorted gemstones.

  She opened the car door, feeling a touch of annoyance. Yesterday had been a beautiful, sunny day. Today, the sky was dreary and overcast, but she couldn’t wait for better weather.

  As she approached the entrance to County Forest Park, it was painfully obvious that something was wrong. Everywhere else the trees were turning color, showing vibrant shades of crimson, orange and yellow. Here, at least half the trees were bare, and the rest looked diseased. Their foliage had shriveled and turned a sickly yellowish-green with black spots. This was horrible. The park’s forestry team must be baffled, especially since the disease had taken hold so suddenly. This blight couldn’t be coincidence. The disease had started just after Sheamathan’s arrival, and the gnomes had mentioned that the woodspirit’s plan of attack would center on destroying the forest.

  Lana drove into the park and headed for the farthest parking lot, blinking back tears. She loved this park and the blight sickened her. Crying about it wouldn’t do any good, though. Anger would be more useful. Somehow, she had to stop the destruction.