by Damien Lake
“By simply not aiding you in doing so. Come morning, we will travel to the southern entrance of this area. Once outside the seal, you may leave or not, but without my guidance. Find your own way back to your kingdom. My duty was to die alongside my fellow Guardians, fighting to protect the villagers and our legacy. I will stop this man from his goal, or perish in the attempt.”
The fire reflected in the scout’s eyes…or perhaps it was new purpose Marik saw burning there. Colbey dropped to his side, back to the flames. Within instants he had fallen asleep.
Dietrik whispered, “Let him choose his own hand-basket for the journey. I say we clear out first thing after we get free of this hell.”
Marik shrugged noncommittally. He lay down to catch what sleep he could, listening for sounds that might be a predatory plant creeping through the darkness.
Go? Or stay with Colbey?
Around them, the twisted forest lurked as no other woodland he’d ever camped in had.
Chapter 23
Sealed Area Fifty-Three’s exit mystified Marik. His questions annoyed Colbey, whose mouth tightened until he would have starved to death were he unable to find food smaller than a shucked pea.
As before, the point where they would pass through the seal lay between two massive Euvea trunks. They must have been twin offshoots centuries before. Except, Marik pondered while he watched the scout press his hands to the bark, they could never have started life remotely close to each other. If so, then when they grew to their enormous vantages their bodies would have crushed together. These must have sprouted a hundred yards apart in the beginning, at minimum.
What confused Marik was how Colbey could manipulate the seal in the first place. The scout possessed no magical talents of any sort. Also, why here? He looked around the left-hand tree, staring into the distance of what appeared to be continuous sunlit forest, stretching on into eternity.
Yet Colbey insisted that the exit lay between these trunks, no matter what his eyes told him of the yonder reaches. Marik had expected some sort of wall or shimmering veil to mark the seal’s boundary. What would happen if he walked around the Euveas, marching on into the trees? Would he end up walking back toward Dietrik and Colbey, despite keeping to a straight course with no turns?
The only scar on the seemingly flawless tableau was in the space between the trunks. Exactly as before, the air between swallowed the light, becoming a void blacker than pitch. It waited for them to enter its cavernous mouth, uncomfortably bringing to mind the image of those rythas blossoms lunging for the stick.
Colbey bent his concentration on the Euvea trunk. Marik watched closely, wanting to understand the trick to it. He saw nothing. Even when the air began to ripple and waver. Unlike the stamina boosting trick, this new technique instigated no visible changes to Colbey’s aura.
“How did—”
“Go through, mage!” Colbey waved a hand briskly. “The breach is only momentary. You would not wish to be in the middle when it reforms.”
Marik swallowed and crowded Dietrik’s back on the way through. He closed his eyes. The sensation washed over his body, starting with an icy pinprick on his belly, enveloping him in an expanding ring. It curved around to converge in a frozen dot against his lower spine.
Before he could gasp in fear, he was across. The light vanished when he entered the exterior forest. He blinked underneath the black velvet bag of night that had been pulled over his head. Colbey walked into his back with a muffled curse.
“Give me a moment, if you don’t want to run right over me!”
“It is dark as sin,” Dietrik exclaimed. “Can’t we have a torch or the like? We’ll end up walking off a cliff like this.”
“Not around here, I expect,” Marik called into the blind surroundings. “I’d be worried about falling off these roots!”
“It’s a broken neck we’ll have, making our way back.”
“Yeah, well…we need to talk about—”
A hand cuffed his chin without warning. “Still your mouths!” Colbey hissed. “Unless you wish to call down every Arronath within a league on your heads.”
“Are they so close as that?” Dietrik queried in a moderated tone. “I do not hear their monsters baying.”
“Move to your left,” Colbey instructed them. “Take care with your feet. The ground is uneven. Your other left, mage!”
They followed the scout’s direction until they abruptly broke free from the inviolate blackness. The canopy was as solid as back where the Arronaths had used them for spot shooting…or nearly so. Beneath the trees, the brightest noon would appear gloomy, except enough light somehow filtered through for their eyes to use. Darker shadows became visible while their eyes adjusted. Forms took on shape if not color. Within a minute, Marik and Dietrik could reasonably distinguish their surroundings.
“That’s a little better,” Marik observed. “Now we can find a place to wait until dawn. I’m not tired since we slept all night. Er…all day, I suppose.”
“Better not to walk straight into a bloody Arronath camp in the dark,” Dietrik agreed. “If we see them skulking about tomorrow, we can slip between these roots and wait for them to be off.”
“As you see fit,” Colbey stated. “You two, I need not say that I would prefer you keep what I revealed to you private. The world has no need to be aware of the Rovasii’s secrets. But…as you choose. I will do nothing to stop you.”
“You’ll be dead, more as like,” Dietrik snorted. “Picking a fight with the likes of these bastards.”
“It holds no fear for me.”
When Colbey moved to leave, Marik spoke up. “Wait a moment! I’m not so certain about going back.”
“It is as simple as the hedge-mazes you outlanders love to fashion. All you need do is keep your left hand to the wall as you travel and you will find the exit soon enough. In two miles, you will cease being turned back by the seal, and you will know you have circled the corner.”
“No, that’s not it.” Marik took a deep breath. “It’s that I’m concerned about you going off alone.”
“Mate, there is no better swordsman to be found that him,” Dietrik spoke from his side. “He’s long since left his mother’s teat and can fend for himself. We, as you kept putting it, need to get the information back to Torrance. And I heartily agree with the sentiment.”
“Except,” Marik countered, aware that Colbey had paused to listen, refraining from departing outright, “that by the time we get back, convince Torrance and Tybalt’s stooges about how dangerous Xenos is and what he’s up to, it will be long over. When we return with the band and whatever army soldiers we can muster, Xenos will have been gone an eightday.”
“That’s not our bloody problem! Let Tybalt send his army chasing after Xenos and the Arronaths both. Look after your own skin first.”
“What do you think Xenos will do after he unlocks whatever power is hidden in this sealed artifact? Throw a tea party? My father told me well enough what floats his boat. He’ll try to spread his poisonous religion as far as he can. First thing he’ll do is recruit followers to sacrifice every non-believer they can capture, all so he can suck up their life energies and grow stronger than ever.”
“Then we’re well in the lead! You’ve seen these blighted seals and how they work. He’ll be squatting on his hunkers poking at them until the hells pardon all their sinners. A few hundred fighters would be better to have on hand than only a sword or two.”
“The mages Xenos sent before tried to break through the seal on the artifacts, didn’t they?” Marik asked Colbey. “When they wiped out your village.”
“Indeed,” the scout agreed. “They were repelled in their effort.”
“There you have it,” Dietrik finalized. “They do not have the power or skill or whatever it takes to reach it.”
“But don’t you see?” Marik waved a hand which Dietrik could barely make out. “They failed then, but they learned exactly what they were up against! If Xenos came back it is because h
e has prepared. He’s ready to tackle the seal until it gives.”
“Or thinks he is. Blighters like this chap never seem to have a clear-eyed estimation of what they aren’t capable of.”
“It is too irresponsible to walk away and hope he’s overestimated his abilities.”
“Gods damn it all, mate! What do you think you can accomplish against them?”
“Not them,” Marik countered. “I don’t care about them. The only one that matters is Xenos. There has to be a way to stop him.”
“You said yourself that Xenos is a mountain compared to most mages.”
Marik glanced at Colbey through the gloom. He had the eerie impression that the scout could see them clearly despite the darkness. “The most terrible enemies can still be brought down with an effective surprise attack. Isn’t that what you told me during our sword training?”
“Quite so.” Colbey unfolded his arms. “If you accompany me in this fight, it will likely mean your death, mage. Are you prepared to accept death?”
“What he said!” Dietrik exhaled loudly through his nose.
“I am not ready to die.”
“Then there is little point in you coming with me.”
“In point of fact,” Marik stopped Colbey’s departure by saying, “it is a positive trait. Those willing to die for their causes usually end up doing so. If you are ready to die, you don’t fight half so hard in order to live. Anybody can die for a cause, but you only win if you make the other side die for their cause.”
Colbey studied him for several silent moments. “That is an interesting observation. I believe you and one of my instructors would enjoy discussing philosophies.”
“Perhaps between the two of them, you might piece together half a brain!” Dietrik jabbed his finger hard into Marik’s forehead. “You are outsmarting yourself again, mate. Last time it led you about as close to your death as it is possible to go. Why do you keep insisting on breaking your own records?”
Marik pushed away the finger. “You go back, Dietrik. Three won’t be much more effective than two, and we’ll either take Xenos by surprise or fail. You can make sure word gets back to Torrance and Raymond, whatever happens.”
“And what about Ilona? Am I supposed to tell her you deliberately bared your throat to a rabid wolverine?”
“I don’t intend to die,” Marik repeated. “But there are too many reasons to try and stop them, and not as many to cry off. Even if I weren’t the crown-general—”
“Which you bloody well aren’t any longer!”
“Maybe so. But even if I’m not, I have a responsibility to stop this man.”
“What logic is that? If you have any responsibility, it is to get home alive and start a life with your woman!”
“It is the simplest responsibility of all,” Colbey said calmly. “To fight for those who lack the strength to do so themselves.”
“That’s about it,” Marik agreed. “But also because I do know what would happen if I did nothing. Sooner or later, the trouble would spread to my doorstep, wherever I lived. It is a preemptive assault, this. Fighting the fight, before it becomes a no-holds-barred battle.”
Dietrik kept silent, mulling Marik’s words. When Marik groped through the shadows to reach Colbey, his friend barked, “So what are you saying that makes me, mate? A quavering poltroon?”
“No, I never—”
“Well, if you insist on acting like a right plonker, I had best keep to your heels. You’ll need somebody to look after your carcass until a Healer puts your pieces back together. I’ve grown used to the job.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Dietrik nearly tripped twice while he marched to Colbey’s side. “I never asked for your permission. And you. This is your playground. How are you going to go about sniffing out these Arronaths?”
“Where they must be is not in doubt,” the scout replied. “The only question that remains is if they have passed this spot, or have not yet reached it. Except the question’s answer is obvious.”
“Explain that.”
Colbey walked to the small moonlit patch sifting through the interlaced branches. He scuffed the ground until enough dirt had loosened for him to draw in. Using his finger, he poked holes in the earth. “These represent the sealed areas within the Euvea. As you can see, there are a higher number to the south than to the north.”
Marik leaned close to see better in the gloom. What Colbey had created looked like an elaborate necklace; a single line of holes along the top, curving down on both sides to a thicket at the bottom. He had seen these types of necklaces on women at the opening ceremony of the tournament. Mostly they had been gold chains around the neck with attached jeweled strands hanging over their bosoms. Each inward strand was slightly longer than the previous until the central length dangled in the exposed cleavage.
“Why are they arranged like that?”
Colbey cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Marik’s forgetfully loud voice before answering. “None can say. I would guess that whatever enchantments existed among the northern battlements were of a different nature than the southern ones. Most collapsed before they could twist into the unnatural distortions. There is circumstantial evidence as well, since the vast majority of distortions involving time are in the north.”
“I suppose anything is possible,” Marik mused. “Since we don’t know what spells he used or what he did, or how he did it, or what the original enchantments were, or how powerful they were…there’s no telling.”
A curt nod came from Colbey. “To the west of where we entered, three seals exist so close to each other that you cannot pass between them. The last is one of the largest and extends a considerable distance. Feeling their way east would bring them around Area Fifty-Three’s edges. After a quarter-mile, Area Fifty-Two’s seal closes to within two hundred yards, forming a channel that leads to a place a short distance from where we stand. Area Forty-Eight’s seal is directly south, so to find their way around it and delve further into the Euvea groves, they would feel their way past this place.”
Marik and Dietrik jerked their heads sideways, scanning the darkness in unison. “Not in the middle of the night, I expect,” Dietrik whispered.
“No,” Colbey agreed. “They should have passed by midday. By following the curve of Area Forty-Eight’s seal, we shall find them before morning breaks.”
“So long as the break does not involve our necks.”
“Follow me. I will lead you across the easiest terrain for your feet.”
Colbey stepped lightly into the night. Before long, Marik felt certain the scout could see through the darkness more adroitly than either of the mercenaries. No matter how familiar he might be with the territory, no one could skip with preternatural ease from root to root shrouded in thick nighttime veils the way Colbey did.
He and Dietrik fell as often as not. Their feet would come down on stones or bulbous protrusions from the massive roots unexpectedly. The crashes they produced always brought remonstrations from Colbey, though Marik noticed the scout’s ire ran at a far lower level than the time he had led Captain Trask’s party through the Green Reaches. Perhaps he truly did feel he owed Marik a debt. Or perhaps it was simply that he felt his claws closing on a long-hunted enemy.
Either way, Marik wondered about the man. Had his edge softened as much as his attitude? Would he still be the same unstoppable hurricane in a swordfight as before? The answer would only come long after the time it would be best to know. During an actual battle.
Colbey slowed after two candlemarks of their blind groping. Neither mercenary asked. His slower pace could only mean that they closed on the place where the scout expected to discover the Arronaths’ campsite.
Except, when dawn lightened the enclosed forest atmosphere by the slightest increments, they had yet to come across their quarry. Colbey began ranging from side to side during their trek. In short order he found horse spore from the animals accompanying Xenos’ party. It mollified him and qui
eted his mutterings. They were on the correct track.
His mutterings renewed by the time the sun brightened their surroundings as much as it ever did under the solid tree ceiling. They had come to a forest stream winding around the arcing Euvea roots, many times flowing beneath the natural foot bridges to emerge several dozen yards beyond.
“Whether you approve or not,” Dietrik huffed, “I am going to sit my bones down here on this root and take a breather!”
Colbey paused in his mystified grumbling while Dietrik put hands and boots to an impressive root wall and began scaling the heights. Sixteen feet up he hoisted his body over the top.
“Can you see anything interesting?”
Dietrik put a hand to his brow despite a lack of sunshine blinding his vision. “Not a jot,” he called back to Marik. “Although that means little enough. I can’t see down into this labyrinth past a hundred feet.”
Marik shook his head in disappointment. “I’m amazed you could ever find anyone in this mess,” he said to Colbey. “Any hunters who wandered in wouldn’t have to work very hard to hide from you scouts.”
“From this vantage,” Colbey admitted. “We rarely traveled by ground. The Euvea Road made for faster traveling, and better surveillance.”
“There’s a road in here?”
“Yes.” Colbey pointed to the incredibly sized Euvea branches far overhead, larger than most tree trunks outside the Rovasii.
Marik stared uncomprehendingly for a moment before exclaiming, “You must be joking! Who would be crazy enough to walk around that far off the ground? One slip and you’d break every bone in your body!”
He felt dizzy staring straight up. His legs wobbled alarmingly. Marik reached a hand to the root to steady his vertigo. After a moment he walked along it to the water’s edge. There was a stool-sized root that looked suitable to rest on until they continued the hunt.
“You are not thinking of sitting there, are you?” Colbey called when Marik was a step shy of the water’s edge.