Beyond the Forest

by Kay L. Ling

  About an hour later, X came in with a piece of dry bread wrapped in a dingy cloth. He shoved the bread through her bars and growled, “There’s yer rations.” She was willing to bet that Wally and the others hadn’t mentioned she’d already had breakfast.

  “Where’s my water?”

  He gestured at the tankard on the floor. “Ya already got yer water today.”

  “It’s gone.”

  He looked at her through narrowed, distrustful eyes, as if her wanting water was some kind of a trick.

  She picked up her tankard and carried it to the door. The breghlin took a cautious step back, watching her carefully.

  “It’s empty.” She turned it upside down and added firmly, “And I would like more.”

  X licked his fleshy lips. One eye twitched nervously. “Prisoners get one ration of bread ‘n water.”

  “Today I will have two. I spilled my water. This pest was bothering me.” She gestured at the pile of ash that had been the giant beetle and gave the breghlin what she hoped was an intimidating smile.

  X looked down at the ashes. She could swear he shivered before he looked up and said, “OK. More water. Just this once.”

  “Good. And clean up that mess.”

  X stumped away, muttering.

  Well, that had gone pretty well. She grinned and walked back to her bed. But what should she do next? X was purposely staying out of reach. He shoved her bread through the bars. He would probably find a way to refill her water without coming into her cell. If he wouldn’t come inside, she’d have to stab him through the bars and then take his keys. She sat on her bed and thought. Okay, supposing for the sake of argument she actually managed to stab and kill him, what if she reached through the bars for the keys on his belt and she couldn’t reach them? Or what if he fell so she had to roll his corpse over? How could she do that that from inside her cell? She sighed in frustration. “Rats!”

  A high-pitched whisper came from overhead, “Yeah, over here. I didn’t think you could see me.”

  Startled, she leapt to her feet and looked around.

  “Up here!” the squeaky voice said.

  The air vent! She looked up and gasped. A huge brown rat looked down and said, “Yeah, I’m not happy about the way I look, either, but what’s a guy to do?”

  Lana stood open-mouthed as a giant gray rat joined the brown one. It peered down, wriggled its whiskers and smiled, revealing sharp upper and lower incisors.

  A familiar voice drifted through the hole, “Lana, it’s me, Raenihel. These are a couple, um, friends.” He continued in an apologetic tone, “They’re very nice people, ah, er, rats. They’ve come with me to get you out.”

  Usually she babbled when she was nervous, but once in a while words completely failed her. This was one of those times. The brown rat blinked at her and said, “What can I say? He ain’t too picky about his friends. If it makes you feel any better, we used to be people.”

  Revulsion slowly gave way to a mixture of pity and amusement. At least someone was trying to rescue her and this was no time to be choosey. For all she knew, if she didn’t get out of here soon, she might end up like them. She shivered at the thought. “How do you plan to get me out?” she whispered.

  “I’m not sure,” Raenihel’s voice came through the vent. “First we had to find you.”

  Her thoughts raced. The seeds of a plan formed in her mind but there was no time to work out details. She’d have to ad lib. “The head guard is bringing me water. I think I have a plan. Keep listening by the vent, and when the time comes, you’ll know what to do.” She thought for a moment and added, “Your cue will be the words, spirit powers.”

  A moment later, X lumbered into the central hold carrying a metal water jug with a long, thin spout. As he walked toward her cell, she took a calming breath. Years ago, in the sixth grade, she had played the role of the Spirit of Christmas Past in the annual Christmas play. She might not have given an Oscar-winning performance, but she had done all right. This time more than her ego was at stake. She walked to her cell door and launched into her hastily devised one-act play. “Since you’ve done as I asked, I will show you mercy.”

  X scowled in obvious confusion.

  “I’ll give you a chance to walk out of here alive. Is that fair?”

  He gave her a ‘what are you talking about’ look, and his scowl shifted to a look of watchful distrust. “Huh?”

  Breghlin had limited vocabularies. She needed to keep this simple. “Your world is strange to me. I needed time to rest, but now I have renewed my powers.”

  X fidgeted nervously, the jug of water in his hand clearly forgotten.

  She reached beneath her shirt and came out with the unsheathed knife. X took a step back. His frightened eyes flicked back and forth from the knife to her face. She lifted the knife over her head. How many seconds before it started to glow? “Powers of the Fair Lands, hear me!” She started a mental countdown: Ten, nine, eight, seven, six. She needed a magical-sounding word. Five, four, three, two, “Jabberwocky!” she cried, giving the knife a theatrical flourish. As if on cue, the blade began to glow.

  X took a giant leap back and dropped the water jug. It clattered to the floor, splashing water over his feet. His eyes, the size of golf balls, remained glued to the glowing blade.

  Her accomplices had better be listening. In a loud, clear voice she called, “I, Lana of the Fair Lands, summon mighty beings to defend me. Come, O spirit powers of the Fair Lands!”

  Thank goodness they understood what to do. Eerie, high-pitched shrieks drifted down from the vent. X cowered, covering his ears. How could she explain her plan to X with his hands over his ears? “Listen to me, X!” she commanded.

  X uncovered his ears and stood a little taller. Another ghostly wail circled the cell, and then faded away.

  “Spirits!” she called. “Confirm my words. If this breghlin helps me, his life will be spared.”

  A chorus of ethereal voices intoned, “His life will be spared.”

  Lana fixed X with a piercing gaze. “Will you do as I ask so I can let you live?”

  X nodded vigorously, jowls trembling. His former harsh words, and the threat to ‘shred yer meat from yer bones,’ seemed forgotten, she thought, holding back a grin.

  Now what? She needed an escort out of the dungeon. After that, she could probably manage on her own. Hopefully Raenihel and the rats would find her. “Set me free and escort me from the dungeon,” she commanded.” If anyone questions you, just say you’re taking me to Sheamathan. Do you understand?”

  X nodded again.

  “Good. Now let me out of here.”

  X sidled up to the door, reaching for a ring on his belt that held several keys. His hands shook so badly it took a minute for him to find the right key and fit it into the lock. “Ya won’t kill me now,” he said worriedly. Staring at the knife, he opened the door.

  “As long as you do what I say, I won’t hurt you.”

  “Come on, then.”

  Reluctantly, she slid the knife into its sheath. It wouldn’t do for a prisoner to hold a guard at knifepoint.

  X took her arm lightly and steered her forward. Just beyond the cellblock, in the passageway that led past several central holds, they passed Grace and Ferdinand. Neither breghlin acted like anything was wrong. Why should they question the new head guard, chosen by Sheamathan? X stared straight ahead and kept walking.

  Once they were outside the dungeon, he stopped and dropped her arm. “Sheamathan’s afraid of ya,” he said slowly, as if weighing his words. He gave her a long look and asked cautiously, “Do you plan to take her place?”

  The question surprised her. Did he think she was as powerful as that? “No. But I commanded her to stay out of my world, and I asked her to free the gnomes.”

  X nodded. “Errr, I see.”

  “Where does she keep the gnomes? Where are the work camps?”

  X hesitated. “They work in her mines. Not too far from here—that way.” He pointed, and th
en glanced about anxiously. “Yer should go,” he said, turning toward the broad stone stairway that led to the main floor. “Take these stairs.”

  “Very well. You may leave now.”

  He made a funny little bow and hurried away. He hadn’t wanted to be skewered by the Challenger’s blade or attacked by spirit powers from another world, but what would Sheamathan do to him when she discovered he had let Lana go?

  It wasn’t safe to stay here, but as much as she wanted to slip out of the castle and head to the embankment, she couldn’t leave Raenihel behind. Sheamathan’s influence would continue to weaken him and cloud his mind. How would she find him? “Rats,” she said gloomily for the second time that day.

  A breathless voice came from somewhere overhead, “Hang on, we’re coming!”

  Surprised, she looked up, searching for an air vent. Sure enough, several feet away she saw a hole in the ceiling.

  “Had to follow you through the air-vent system. And your gnome buddy ain’t so fast.”

  She walked to the hole and looked up, oddly happy to see a rat.

  “There you are,” the gray rat said, puffing heavily. “And all in one piece.”

  “Move aside,” Raenihel commanded. The rat moved away and in a moment Raenihel looked down. “I’m glad you’re all right.” Sweat glistened on his lined brow. “I’d come down, but I can’t fit through the hole. Greg says he’ll lead me through this airshaft to a safe place. I’ll hand Jordy down and he’ll guide you there.”

  “If that’s the only way,” she said unhappily.

  “It’s the safest way,” Raenihel said. “And we should get going.” His face disappeared from the hole. A second later a scowling brown rat glared down at her. “I’m Jordy, and if you’re going to drop me, we can forget the whole thing.”

  Lana said firmly, “I won’t drop you.”

  “Ready?” Raenihel called.

  “Ready.” As she lifted her arms, the rat’s hindquarters came into view. She froze. The rat was much bigger than she’d thought! Its long hairless tail flicked nervously and its little pink feet peddled empty air. Grimacing, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed him around his middle.

  “Easy now!” Jordy cried. “I’m delicate!” Someone overhead snorted at that and she grinned in spite of herself.

  “Okay, Raenihel. I’ve got him.” Lowering the rat as fast as she could without dropping him, she let go the minute his feet touch the floor.

  Jordy looked up at her and said nastily, “There now. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  She took a step back and shook her head. They weren’t getting off to a very good start.

  Jordy sat back on his haunches, muttering under his breath, and dusted himself off with his forelegs.

  “We’ll meet you outside,” Raenihel called down. She heard movement overhead as he and the other rat started off.

  “Stay close,” Jordy said. “If you can stomach it.”

  The irritable brown rat took off, scampering nimbly up the stairs, and she hurried to keep up. At the top of the stairs he paused, looked both ways, and headed down a hallway. Next, they passed through two vacant, unfurnished rooms and into another narrow hallway that looked like a servant’s access. By now she was winded. For all she knew the spiteful rodent was taking the long way to wherever they were going. She kept running. From time to time the rat looked back, and if she straggled he showed his teeth and ran all the faster. Where was he taking her? They came to a narrow, back stairway and Jordy started down in nearly total darkness. Maybe he could see well enough, but she couldn’t. She slid her hand along the wall as they descended. At the landing they turned and went down another flight, and then Jordy scampered into a basement storage area that was lit by mineral oil lamps in wall brackets.

  “Through here,” Jordy said, slowing. He paused near a low doorway and went inside. She stooped and followed him into a low, windowless room. Bags of grain lined the walls and grain littered the floor. In the light that shone from the adjoining room, she saw Raenihel and Greg perched on some bulging sacks.

  “Lana!” Clearly relieved to see her, Raenihel came over and hugged her briefly. When he stepped back, Jordy looked up at Lana and showed his teeth. “Seein’ as I got you here safe, don’t I get a hug?”

  “Umm, sure.”

  “Aw, Jordy, cut it out,” Greg said. “You weren’t always so keen on rats, yourself.”

  Lana stooped and gave Jordy an awkward pat on the head.

  “Nice rat, good rat,” Jordy mocked. “Pretend I’m a cat if that helps.”

  Raenihel shot the rat a warning glance, then gestured toward the bags and said, “Lana, please have a seat.” He returned to his spot beside Greg. “Tell me what happened. Did you meet with Sheamathan?”

  Lana sat. “Yes, and since you found me in the dungeon, you know it didn’t go well. But I learned something useful. You’re right—Sheamathan can’t touch the Challenger’s blade.” She wished she didn’t have to tell him the other news. “And I learned what became of the Challenger.”

  Raenihel sat forward eagerly. “Yes?”

  There was no easy way to break the bad news. “Your Challenger is Sheamathan’s wolfhound.”

  Chapter 18

  Raenihel’s brow creased in confusion. “What? I don’t understand!”

  Lana shook her head, and said with a quiet sigh, “I don’t, either, but it’s true. While my guards were gone, the wolfhound walked in and came to my cell. It spoke in my mind. This time I listened. The wolfhound’s name is Jules. He created the knife—the Challenger’s Blade. Don’t ask me how he got turned into a dog. He mentioned bluffs and bargains, and called the last hundred years a tragic tale of ignorance and greed, or something like that.” She gave a helpless shrug. “I guess it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated! It’s a disaster!” Raenihel’s lips trembled. His eyes filled with tears. Running a hand over his beard, he stared blankly ahead.

  “We still have his knife and I’m learning to use it,” she said, hoping to console him. “And Jules thinks I can help him. He wants to regain his human form and confront Sheamathan again.”

  “After what happened last time?” He shook his head and frowned. “Even if he found a way to become human again, and that seems unlikely, how can he defeat her? And how can you help him?”

  She shared Raenihel’s bewilderment, but they needed to stay hopeful. “I don’t know yet. But I do know where to learn more about Jules and the knife. When I get home, I’ll find answers.”

  “I’ve seen Sheamathan’s wolfhound, but I’ve never heard of a Challenger,” Greg piped up.

  She glanced at him, in no mood to explain. “It’s an old legend.”

  Greg persisted, “You’re sayin’ the Challenger tried to defeat Sheamathan, but she won?”

  She nodded. “Right. Maybe his special knife wasn’t powerful enough.”

  Jordy said, “Sheamathan can’t touch the knife? Why not?”

  “It’s covered with powerful gems from our world. When evil beings touch the gems, it’s like touching hot coals.”

  “So, the knife is still a threat to her. Wow,” Jordy said. “Can I see it?”

  She hesitated, but really, what harm could it do? “Sure. Why not?” Bringing out the sheathed knife, she drew the blade.

  “Woooow! It’s beautiful!” Jordy cried.

  “Yeah!” Greg agreed enthusiastically.

  The blade began to glow.

  “Cool! Look at that!”

  The glow faded. The knife went dark.

  “So, why does it light up like that?” Jordy asked.

  She was about to quip that curiosity killed the cat, er, rat, but decided not to add to their fund of corny rat jokes. “If it senses danger or evil it keeps glowing. If not, it goes dark.”

  “I guess we’re not evil. No matter what my mom says,” Jordy joked.

  Lana sheathed the blade and gave the pudgy rat a sad smile. “Your mom must be worried sick. When did you get here? How did you get he
re?”

  “Around a year ago,” he said. “You lose track of time here, especially when you’re a rat.” Staring at the floor, he wriggled his whiskers. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mom misses me. Even though I used to make her mad.”

  “Of course she misses you.” Pricked by her conscience, she looked away. She’d been so worried about saving her own skin she’d barely considered that these were two boys, boys with friends and families who missed them. In some ways, they were worse off than the captured gnomes were. There was no rescue from being a rat.

  The gray rat said, “One night me and Jordy rode our bikes to County Forest Park.” He gave Jordy a sidelong look. “So our moms wouldn’t catch us drinking.”

  “Seemed like a great plan,” Jordy muttered miserably.

  “Other kids do it. Guess they were luckier than we were. After a few beers Jordy didn’t feel like riding home.”

  “Neither did you.”

  Greg ignored him. “Anyway, we went for a walk and hung out by the creek. After a while we nodded off. When I opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming. Horrible, ugly monster-guys were all around us. They had weapons. Knives, clubs, and spears. They grabbed us and brought us here.”

  Jordy said, “It was a nightmare. Only it was real.”

  Greg nodded. “Yeah, the trees and even the sky looked all weird. We had no idea where we were.”

  “Or how to get home,” Jordy added.

  “Both of us started screamin’ and we ran. But the monsters—the breghlin—caught us. They clubbed Jordy over the head and knocked him out cold. Even if I could get away, I couldn’t leave him.”

  “Yeah, like you coulda got away,” Jordy said sarcastically.