Beyond the Forest

by Kay L. Ling

  He approached the creature warily, edging forward, and when the creature didn’t react he slowly lifted the knife over his head with both hands. This time the knife’s artistry wasn’t what caught her attention. The blade had begun to glow, growing brighter by the minute, and then it began to pulse. The serpent swayed, watching the knife, and then sank down behind the boulder until only its head showed above the rock. A long red tongue flicked from its mouth, testing the air, and then it hissed in warning, or perhaps in fear.

  Lana couldn’t take her eyes off the blade. If she felt strangely mesmerized by the rhythmic pulsing light, she wasn’t alone. The serpent watched in a trancelike stupor.

  Raenihel inched closer. Finally within striking distance, he stood still as if gathering his courage, and then he plunged the knife into the serpent, just below its head where it had no protective scales. The knife glowed through the pythanium’s flesh, and dark red blood spewed out, spraying Raenihel. The incision hissed, and then the creature’s flesh blackened around the knife, turning to cinders and ash.

  Lana shuddered, sickened and yet fascinated as the pythanium’s head dropped forward onto the rock and its eyes went dull. Raenihel yanked the knife free and, taking no chances, drove the blade through the pythanium’s eye into its brain. When he pulled it out, the blade had stopped glowing. He wiped it on the hem of his tunic and sheathed it. Then, as if nothing had happened, he walked away. His voice came back on the breeze as Lana stood staring at the dead, winged-serpent, “I suggest you stay close. There may be more.”

  She hurried after him with newfound respect. He might be old and smaller than she was, but he was brave when he had to be.

  The rocky ground gave way to a flat plain of barren, reddish soil that looked too poor to support any kind of life. Here and there, deep fissures split the ground. This land hadn’t seen rain in a long time, she thought as she scanned the bleak terrain. The wind picked up, raising a choking haze of dust. She bent her head, pulled the neck of her T-shirt up to cover her mouth, and breathed through the fabric until the gusts subsided.

  What a wretched place. Fine red particles of dirt caked her skin and clothes. She swept a hand over her head to brush away the dust. Her hair felt disgustingly stiff, and she was sure she must be a redhead by now. Raenihel certainly was, she noted with a trace of amusement. Red dust caked his white beard and shoulder-length hair and his clothing, too. His efforts to brush away the clinging dust hadn’t done much good.

  Not far ahead, the land dropped off into a ravine like the one at the edge of the forest. They walked to the edge to get a closer look. Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill.

  Dead, leafless trees, blackened and shattered as if lightning had struck them, rose up inside a wall built of square, gray stone blocks. The wall seemed to stretch for miles. The ground, bare except for scrub brush and blackened trees, formed the courtyard of a massive two-story stone structure that was crude and ugly in its simplicity. Round towers pierced by narrow window slits stood at each corner. Apparently no one cared to look out on the blighted courtyard, she thought grimly, because the main structure had very few windows. Window slits for observation and defense were located at intervals across the second story.

  A drawbridge extended over a moat. The stagnant water might not be deep, since it obviously didn’t rain often here, but who knew what lived in it? On the opposite side of the moat, stone slabs led to a stairway, and at the top stood a set of massive iron doors.

  No one needed to tell her she was looking at Shadowglade.

  Suddenly feeling small and vulnerable, she crouched beside Raenihel who had already dropped to his knees. He was trembling, clearly as rattled as she was. It couldn’t be easy for him to come here. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just waited for him to pull himself together.

  As she shifted position, it occurred to her that crouching like this should be hard on her knees, but she wasn’t in pain. She sat down and pulled up her pant leg. To her amazement, the final traces of puffiness were gone and the brush-burns, which had been a scabby red mess, had started to heal.

  Raenihel finally noticed her examining her leg and asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Something is right—that shouldn’t be.” He gave her a puzzled look and she explained, “I fell and scraped my knees. I had some pretty nasty brush burns. Now, all of the sudden, they look a lot better.”

  Raenihel bent over her knee. “Remarkable. Do you think it’s due to your gemstones?”

  He was right. That had to be it. She nodded. “Yes, I think so.” Unzipping her pouch, she took out the black hematite, white topaz, and purple sugalite—gemstones with the most healing lore. If her knees had already started healing without gemstones in direct contact, what would happen if she placed them directly on the injury?

  She held the gems tightly until they grew warm, and then placed them on her knee. After a moment she looked up at Raenihel who was watching with rapt attention, and said, “My knee feels tingly.”

  When she removed the stones and moved her leg at various angles, her knee felt pain-free and stronger. All that remained of her brush-burns were faint pink marks. Amazing. Now for the other knee. Pulling up her other pant leg, she said, “This one’s worse. When I fell, I came down hard on this knee.”

  She placed the healing stones on the bruised area and waited for the tingling sensation to pass. When she removed the stones, she smiled triumphantly. The red marks had faded to pink and the scabs were gone. “I can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head and bending her knee a couple times. “Absolutely no pain or stiffness. Call this an unscientific test, but I’d say my gems’ healing properties are greatly amplified here.”

  Raenihel nodded. “I’m not surprised. All your stones should exhibit stronger powers here.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She dropped the topaz and sugalite into her pouch, took out the pale blue aquamarine, and held it with the hematite.

  “And these? What are their powers?” Raenihel asked.

  “Besides healing, the black stone—hematite—gives strength, optimism and courage.” She opened her palm to show him the stones. “Aquamarine gives courage, foresight and happiness, and it’s supposed to reduce the effects of poison.”

  “Strength, courage and foresight,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Valuable powers. Especially here near the woodspirit’s castle.” He studied her face and asked, “What sensations or emotions do you feel when you touch the stones?”

  What was she feeling right now? Looking away, she closed her fingers over the stones and focused. A change in attitude. Less fear. An inexplicable assurance that somehow, although it seemed impossible, she would play a role in overcoming the woodspirit. Should she tell him that or keep it to herself? It hadn’t occurred to her at first, but experimenting with Fair Lands gems here on Sheamathan’s doorstep might not be a good idea. Fear could be useful. It was nature’s way of keeping you from doing stupid, risky things. Put away the gems before you get yourself into trouble.

  “The gems definitely have stronger powers here,” she said. “I feel much calmer now.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but that was all she was willing to say. He probably knew she was holding something back, but to her relief he simply nodded and let the matter drop. His eyes took on a distant look, and then he turned away and stared moodily at the castle.

  Uncurling her fingers, she looked down at the gems and felt a sudden chill.

  Foresight.

  Suddenly she knew Raenihel was about to tell her the real reason he had brought her here.

  Chapter 12

  “Sheamathan’s power is overwhelming. It crushes my spirit, even at this distance,” Raenihel said in a defeated tone as he looked at the castle.

  Lana couldn’t feel the woodspirit’s influence the way he could, but her heart was heavy and she struggled with a sense of hopelessness.

  He combed his fingers absently through his white beard. “Recently,
the woodspirit’s power has grown much stronger. We need to know why.”

  Her sense of foreboding grew as Raenihel unfastened his backpack and took out the sheathed knife. “Lana, this knife once belonged to the Challenger who drove Sheamathan from your world. The Challenger gave it to my ancestors for safekeeping nearly a hundred years ago. No one thought it would be needed again.”

  Human history was the same, she thought sadly. Whenever a war ended, people believed peace would last for generations, but it seldom did.

  “I can’t tell you much about the knife. It’s a powerful weapon, but we don’t know how it works or what it can do. Sheamathan would surely paralyze any gnome who attempted to use the knife against her, so we hid it and kept it safe. He turned it over thoughtfully in his hands and then looked up at her, his eyes dark with emotion. “The blight is spreading through the Amulet and it won’t stop there. It will alter more and more of your world unless someone stops Sheamathan. We need to confront her. Now.”

  Lana felt the blood drain from her face. Now? Was he kidding? Her mind spun with a list of excuses, but she could tell by his expression that he wouldn’t listen to reason. “I’m still developing my gem powers,” she said in her most reasonable tone. “Someday I’ll be able to do a lot more, especially after I learn about Shadow gemstones. And then I—”

  “There’s no time!” Raenihel interrupted passionately. “And even if there were, would you risk becoming like the old fool, Folio? All his studying got him nowhere!” Raenihel’s eyes blazed. “A curse upon him! He lives in isolation in Strathweed, compiling folios full of knowledge that might have saved my people from torment and bondage.”

  For a moment she was speechless. If studying gem lore wasn’t the answer, what was? According to the gnomes, the Challenger had used some kind of power or enchantment to keep Sheamathan out of the Fair Lands. But after nearly a hundred years, Sheamathan had gotten around it somehow and had come through the portal again.

  “So, what’s your plan?” she asked, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.

  “We must tell Sheamathan this,” he said gravely. “A power exists that can drive her out of your world and destroy her. Not only must she abandon her conquest of the Fair Lands, she must release the enslaved gnomes in Shadow.”

  Lana threw up her hands. “That’s your plan? You’re going to bluff her?” Didn’t he hear how ridiculous that sounded? She sighed in frustration. “Look, that’s never going to work. She’ll expect proof. You can’t make a wild claim like that and expect her to believe you.”

  “We have proof—the Challenger’s blade,” Raenihel insisted stubbornly. “We know she fears it.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “She began a quest to find it a few months ago. She sent emissaries throughout Shadow, asking questions, trying to learn who had it.”

  Yes, that certainly did seem strange. “Why now after a hundred years?” she asked, frowning.

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Her sudden interest puzzles us, too. The knife is still a threat to her in the hands of someone with the power to use it. Great gem masters live very long lives. When she sees the knife, she’ll think one of two things—the Challenger has returned, or a new Challenger has risen and claimed the knife. Either way, she’s in danger.” Raenihel reverently held out the sheathed knife. “That’s what you must make her believe.”

  “Me!” Lana waved the knife away. “What about you? This is your plan!”

  “My race isn’t strong enough to resist the woodspirit’s control. You saw what happened in the forest. If I confronted her with the knife, she would simply paralyze me.”

  Sheamathan had paralyzed Lana too, and it hadn’t been easy to break free. Sure, studying and working with gems since then had strengthened Lana’s abilities, but that didn’t make her a match for the woodspirit. “Well, I’m not going in there alone! If I were crazy enough to go, I’d expect you to go with me!”

  With a pained look he said, “I’m sorry to place this burden on your shoulders, but if you can’t stop Sheamathan, we have no hope.” His voice trailed off and he shook his head sadly. “Look around. This is what your world will look like. As for my world, the destruction will continue to spread. More gnomes will be captured for work camps and held in bondage for the rest of their lives.”

  She couldn’t believe he thought his plan could work. Was he really that naïve? “Sheamathan will just laugh at your warning and kill me. What good will that do any of us?”

  Raenihel gripped her arm, his expression earnest. “Even if she doesn’t accept your message, she won’t hurt you. She’ll be curious about who you are and what you know. You overrate the danger and underestimate yourself.” Lana gave him a doubtful look but he continued with unshakable conviction, “With only the malachite for protection, you broke free of her power and escaped. Now, you have many powerful gemstones that are all the more effective because they’re in Shadow. And you have the Challenger’s blade. Our legends say that evil creatures from Shadow can’t touch a Fair Lands gem. It burns them like touching a hot coal. Remember the pythanium? When I drove the blade into its flesh, the wound sizzled and blackened. I believe the hilt of the Challenger’s knife was inlaid with stones for two reasons. The gems hold great power, and evil creatures can’t touch the knife.”

  Lana frowned thoughtfully. What Raenihel said made sense, but it was easier to be brave and optimistic when you weren’t the one risking your life. “You put a lot of faith in legends,” she said. The start of a headache throbbed dully in her temples. Her own bluster about fate and destiny sounded silly now. She looked down at the castle. If she was foolhardy enough to go, there was no telling what she’d encounter: Sheamathan’s wolfhound, malformed insects, pythanium, breghlin and other horrors. A voice that sounded surprisingly like her own said, “All right, I’ll deliver your message,” but someone braver and more confident must have spoken. Yes, she wanted to help the gnomes, but this wasn’t what she’d had in mind. She looked around at the bleak landscape. Anything that wasn’t currently diseased had already died. Was this what her own community would look like someday?

  With a sigh, she reached for the Challenger’s blade. “I don’t think your plan will work, but if I get out of this in one piece, we may learn something about Sheamathan that we can use against her.” She stood and tucked the sheathed knife into her waist. “And if I can, I’ll find out what happened to your missing friends.”

  Raenihel stood and took her hand. His fingers closed around hers in a firm grip. “No words can express my gratitude. Be careful, and trust your gem powers. I’ll wait for you here.”

  She managed a half-hearted smile. “If this doesn’t go well, you may have a very long wait.”

  * * *

  Lana climbed down the steep hill, grateful for the cover of darkness. How had she gotten herself into this? And yet, what other choice was there? Raenihel couldn’t confront the woodspirit himself. She understood his desperation; he was responsible for his clan but he couldn’t protect them, and it must be awful to feel so helpless. His world had been green and alive. Now it looked like this.

  She reached the bottom of the hill and sighed at the sight of the dismal terrain. More dry red soil and clumps of thorny brush. No grass, no flowers. This was starting to happen in her world. Someone had to do something about it, but it shouldn’t be her. She was in way over her head.

  Nearing the outer wall that surrounded the castle, she studied it critically. No toeholds between each block of stone. Much too smooth and tall to climb. Edging along, she came to a tall iron gate, but yanking on it proved useless. Just as she expected, it was locked.

  Further along, thick vines grew up the wall, but their sharp barbs would cut her to shreds if she tried to climb them. Oily black moss grew between the stones’ joints, eroding the mortar, and some of the stones looked loose. Could she exploit that defect? She spotted a half-buried object in the ground and it turned out to be a rusty trowel. Rusty or not, it was sharp.
She spent a few minutes chiseling mortar and then gave up in disgust. What a waste of time. The stones were just too thick. Even if she loosened a stone completely, she wouldn’t be strong enough to push it out of the wall.

  Well, it couldn’t hurt to keep the trowel. It seemed like a providential find. She continued down the wall. There had to be a way in, short of waving her arms and shouting so the guards would capture her. That wouldn’t be a show of strength. No, she needed to find a way into the castle on her own and have a look around, and then demand to see Sheamathan.

  Ah, what have we here? This looks more promising.

  Good. A bricked-up doorway. The mortar was bad here too, and it would be a lot easier to knock out weathered bricks than a four-foot-thick stone. She attacked the mortar with her trowel and nearly whooped with joy when the mortar crumbled to dust. Grunting with exertion, she hacked at more of the mortar. Soon, a few bricks came loose and fell to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. She sneezed and wiped her nose, and then went back to work. After ten or fifteen minutes, sore and covered with dust, she had dislodged enough bricks to climb through the doorway.

  On the other side she found the groves of dead trees she had seen from the hilltop. She ran to the closest trees. Their scarred boles and blackened branches looked even worse at close range. Huge knobbed roots thrust up from the ground. If she didn’t watch where she was going, she’d trip over them. Darting from one grove to the next, she kept her head down and hoped no one was watching.

  The drawbridge was down. That seemed odd at first but after all, why raise it? Who besides Sheamathan or her allies would come here? Sheamathan’s enemies would be trying to escape, not get in, and they probably wouldn’t get far.

  The courtyard with its scrub brush and twisted, half-dead trees gave an unwelcoming first impression to anyone who crossed the drawbridge. Broad stone steps led to the imposing iron doors, which looked so forbidding who would want to enter?

  Now or never. Before her instinct for self-preservation could stop her, she marched resolutely toward the drawbridge. Was Raenihel watching from the cliff? If so, was he half as scared as she was?