Paul watched its eyes, waiting for the move that was sure to come. Yet this was not real, he reasoned. He could not be hurt. Why bother resisting at all? Yet the creature dodging and grinning before him almost seemed to exude menace. In fact, It all seemed very real, as did the sword it was currently being thrust threateningly at him.
The Groblette grunted and thrust at him, but more by luck than anything Paul parried the blow, his own sword almost falling from his hand as the two weapons struck. Paul moved backwards a pace, and the creature advanced with him, it's grin increasing. Yet it did not speak. Paul found the silence almost as unnerving as the blade raised towards him. The creature grunted again and was about to move when Paul caught sudden movement from above and behind his assailant. He looked up in wonder as a large owl flew down amongst the trees and landed on the creature's head, claws flailing wildly at the Groblette. The creature panicked and dropping its sword began to beat at its head as the owl flew up and disappeared amongst the trees. Paul did not hesitate.
He screamed and thrust forward with his sword, the long thin blade piercing the Groblette’s armour easily and stabbing into its chest. Paul watched in horror as the creature swayed as he removed the blade from it, his foe dropping its own blade on the ground. Bright red blood burst from the creature's mouth and it gurgled loudly, coughing the flow of its blood down over itself, then it grunted once and fell backwards, crashing down onto the forest path.
The Groblette lay unmoving, a bright red splash of blood pumping from its chest and beginning to puddle around it. Paul leaned over the creature and saw that slowly the silver eyes faded, losing their colour until the eyes were only grey. Paul stood unmoving. That was real. He had killed it. That was real enough. Dead. Real.
Dizziness overtook him and he leaned against a tree as nausea overtook him and he sprawled by the path, spewing up the contents of his stomach onto the leaf strewn ground. Real, he thought. Real. real, real.
Panicking he threw the sword away and sprinted west towards the sounds of fighting. He would carry no weapon now. Not ever. Real. Real. Real.
In his blind panic his legs moved faster than he had ever known. He veered past the horde of silver eyed Groblettes who were hot in pursuit of his friends, their surprise as he overtook him evident by the shouts they gave him as he shot past. Already his friends were a good hundred yards ahead but it was almost as if the forest was drawing him in. He flew along the path and within seconds caught them up, Flip and the others giving him a loud cheer as he flew past them, heading further west along the forest path. He thought he may have cheered himself but he was not sure. Real. He had killed a person. Real.
Paul looked back over his shoulder at his friends racing behind him, and then the silver eyed Groblettes in pursuit, and when he looked he noticed something very strange. The pursuing enemy seemed to be getting further and further away, as if they were shrinking almost.
“Wait!” shouted Paul, stopping on the spot. His friends caught him up and spun around to see what was happening behind them. Flip gasped as behind them the path the enemy was running along seemed to be getting further and further away. The forest path itself seemed to iris, the trees and undergrowth swiftly circling about the wood, moving inwards until the road east suddenly disappeared altogether. There was a loud crunching sound of wood on wood, and brief screams that were hastily cut off as the path out of the forest disappeared completely. The Groblettes slumped to the ground, Paul joining them.
They were alone in the forest.
Chapter Fifteen
Consequences
The path through the forest stretched off amongst the trees as far as the eye could see. The trees bore down on the road almost as if begrudging its presence amongst them. Overhead the canopy of leaves and branches obscured the dawn sky. There was a stillness about the woods that neither the slight breeze nor the rays of the sun could reach. There was an almost ominous slight creaking sound as the trees swayed slightly above them. All else was silent.
Paul looked at the Groblettes that were almost lying about the forest road, all of them flat on their backs, breathing heavily. Paul sat upright however, looking at the blood on his hands. This could not be real. Yet the death of the Groblette-Ru - the death that he had affected himself - made him think otherwise. The silver eyed creature had died horribly, and it was he who had killed it. He looked at his hand where there had been a sword but was now empty. His arm throbbed slightly, which surprised him. It had not even given him a twinge for a while. Yet now it was slowly throbbing in the place where the creature in the mine had clutched him. He sighed. It was yet another thing to think about and he tried desperately to juggle which one he should concentrate on more.
Beezle rose to her feet.
“Our pursuit seems to have ceased.” she said, concern finding its way into her voice, “though I think we shall make our way along the road a little bit further just to be sure.” The captain stared off into the thick woods. They could only see a little way into the forest itself so dense were the branches that surrounded the narrow path. “I do not think that I need to remind anyone to stay on the road.” she said, “Remember no creature has found their way through these woods for many a year now. Something stirs in this forest and I want to do my very best not to wake it.” There were sounds of agreement amongst the Groblettes who were wearily climbing to their feet, sheathing weapons and slinging shields back on their backs. Paul glanced casually at Flip who twisted the handle on the huge war pan and it quickly shrunk in size to that of a spoon which he stowed in his backpack carefully.
“I was wondering where you kept that.” laughed Paul and the cook frowned.
“A handy device.” said Flip, “Got it from a tinker on the wild roads to the north. Cost a fortune it did.” Paul laughed and slowly they began to walk along the road. Their pace was slow however and many of them were downcast and weary from the pursuit and the loss of Trevlik. They walked for an hour or more and then Beezle called for camp, which they placed on the road.
“A tight circle, Ybarro and Sparr.” she ordered, “No fire. I don’t think that the trees would like it.” The two Groblettes nodded and began laying the white stones around the camp as usual, though this time in a much tighter circle. Hard cheese and stale bread was passed around and they ate it slowly, almost sullenly as the gloom of the forest continued to permeate their spirits.
“It is just after dawn.” announced Beezle suddenly, “And travelling through this forest in the dark is something I would not wish to contemplate.”
“Looks like it is always dark to me.” Sighed Wahid wearily.
“True.” said Wavebrite, though the darkness of the night would make it more so.
“Indeed.” agreed Beezle, “So I propose we make camp but for a few hours and then we shall travel again from noon until sun down. That way we can settle back into the cycle of days easily.”
A general sigh of agreement rose from the camp and within minutes they were asleep. Paul lay in the gloom listening to the forest creaking around him, thinking about the Groblette he had killed. That damned owl had interfered again! Where did it keep appearing from? With thoughts of the bird in his mind he slowly fell into an uneasy sleep.
Noon came and as Paul and the Groblettes wearily tried to raise themselves and the stones were lifted and biscuits were passed around whilst the Groblettes made ready to move out.
“How far is the road along the forest?” asked Paul, “Will we be in Anchor Bay soon?” There was a ripple of laughter around the camp and Wavebrite clapped Paul on the back, which despite the Groblettes smaller stature, nearly set him sprawling.
“From here it is approximately one hundred miles, and that is the direct route. As you shall discover the forest path tends to meander a little.” laughed the Groblette, “Black Root Forest stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction. It is the oldest wood here in Felastia. After that we have the lowlands to cross before reaching Anchor Bay.”
“Quite a way th
en.” sighed Paul, watching the captain searching through the packs and re-distributing the load of each Groblette now that they were one less.
“Quite a way indeed.” agreed Wavebrite, standing as if eager to make it as short a journey as possible.
“Here.” said Beezle standing and holding out a small short sword she had found strapped to one of the packs, “you will need a weapon Paul.”
Paul bristled as the captain held the sword out to him. He lowered his head and sighed aloud.
“I don’t need a weapon, captain.” he said wearily, “I was of the opinion that none of my actions here had consequences as it is not real. Yet the Groblette I slew died and it died horribly. That is not the type of dream I could create myself.”
“So you accept this is real now?” asked Flip curiously.”
“It can’t be!” shouted Paul angrily, “It just cannot be!”
“How so?” asked Beezle, holding out the sword once again.
“I accept only that what I do here has consequences, and that I shall not be killing again.”
“That Groblette was an enemy!” spat Wahid, “He would have killed you as soon as look at you if you had not slain him!”
“I know that!” shouted Paul, squaring up to the surly Groblette, “If an owl had not swooped down and distracted him then either my dream would be over now or I would be dead. Either way this would be over.”
“So you wish to be killed?” asked Flip with concern.
“No. I want only to be spared the consequences of what I do. If I cannot affect anything then it is not my fault. I cannot be held to blame.”
“You are a complicated man, Master Paul.” Sighed Flip as Beezle stowed the sword away again.
“He’s a damned fool!” spat Wahid, slinging his pack over his shoulder, and pushing past the remaining Groblettes began to walk along the forest road through the woods alone.
The rest of the group began to shoulder packs and soon they were heading along the road deeper into the forest. There was a certain amount of light shining through the canopy of leaves above, though it was brief; fleeting. Small puddles of light fell onto the forest path and then slowly ebbed away as if the forest was drawing the life out of them altogether. There was a slight breeze though and it rustled through the branches of the trees, the bushes at the edge of the forest path trembling slightly as they passed. There now rose the sound of birdsong from all around them too.
It started slowly, a lone bird calling out querulously as testing for any sign of danger, and having found none on it continued, calling out to the other creatures of the forest to join it. Son many were, and to Paul it felt as if a great weight had been lifted from the air; as if something dark and dangerous had been nearby but had now moved on.
“Was this once a busy road then?” asked Paul, noticing that the path was in places overgrown or rutted, as if the forest itself was trying to claim the path back for itself; to absorb it.
Brith drew along Paul.
“It was once the main route of trade between Anchor Bay and Sulodien. Not so now though. All merchants and travellers take the long road along the coast and then southeast to the Steel Keep. The road now is not safe.”
Ybarro shivered involuntarily. “Something dark moves in the forest.” He looked ominously about the road almost as if he was expecting something to leap out and grab him at any moment, “There is an evil here and it stirs; awakens.”
“Great.” mumbled Paul, “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“That is the truth. Though this part of the wood seems quite pleasant at the moment.” said Ybarro, the rucksack of stones swaying slightly as he walked. Paul thought of his own slim pack and felt guilty. The Groblettes rucksack must have weighed terribly upon him!
Paul looked at the path as it rose ahead of them, crowded by trees on both sides. “There was a lightness in the air, the birds singing, that had not been there before. It was as if a cloud had lifted from above them. Even the sunlight fell in larger puddles here than before. Subconsciously Paul began to whistle.
The day wore on and at sunset the camp was laid, the white stones again in a tight circle that surrounded the Groblettes. Food was passed around, though there was not much conversation as they had only slept for a few hours since the night before last, and they were bone weary, half-heartedly munching on cheese and biscuits, yawns being heard about the camp. Soon they slept, and even Paul felt that even though his spinning head may stop him from resting he was soon fast asleep.
Dawn came and the camp was lifted. The next three days were more or less the same routine. Wahid walked ahead of the group as if he was sulking, and the others followed cautiously behind. Yet still the forest seemed at ease. On the second day a young buck ran across the path but before any of the Groblettes could string an arrow, never mind loose one, the creature fled back into the dense woods and was gone.
“Getting slow.” grumbled Sparr and the other Groblettes jeered at him. So on they pressed. Wavebrite reckoned that if they kept their current progress up and maintained their current pace then they would be out of the woods within the next five days, the trip taking about eight days in total. He said that it was an estimation, but Wavebrite was a master of maps and he was sticking to his estimation.
“I can’t see what all the fuss is about these woods.” said Paul on their fourth morning in the woods.
“Sssh!” laughed Flip, “We are not out yet master Paul. Remember no traveller has emerged from these woods in many a year. Something here is stopping them reaching safety. We just have not come across it yet.”
“Lulling us into a sense of false security.” mumbled Paul, and for the rest of the day he peered suspiciously into the woods besides the road but he saw nothing. Nothing at all.
On the fifth day they broke camp and continued west through the forest. Just before what they thought may have been noon Wahid stopped on the path suddenly and called for them to come and look.
“What is it?” called Beezle as he hurried to where Wahid stood pointing at the path. Paul approached and saw just off the road three bleached white skeletons lying just inside the woods, off the path, Ivy and twisting plants knotted themselves through the bones, the skulls leering at them as if daring them you leave the path.
“Wahid, Brith.” commanded Beezle, “We double the watch. You will both lead from now on. Everyone else be on your guard, It would seem that whatever is wrong with this wood draws near. We must be on our guard!”
Weapons were drawn and the pace was slowed a little and they marched on along the road heading gradually west throughout the day, but they found nothing out of the ordinary after the discovery of the skeletons.
Nothing whatsoever.
Chapter Sixteen
Something of the Dark
Paul had not noticed anything out of the ordinary whilst walking through the forest. If anything the journey was beginning to become tedious. The long road twisted and turned through the forest, sometimes rising up and then inevitably dipping down again, but there were no incidents of any kind to break the march. Wavebrite had announced that morning that it would take but three more days to reach the westernmost end of the woods, and so their pace increased, eager to be free of the trees and the seemingly never ending path.
Yet by noon when they stopped to eat Paul felt an edge of unease. It had crept in slowly, and there was no discernible reason for it but there was definitely something there. An atmosphere of discontent seemed to fill the camp that had nothing at all to do with the long journey west. It seemed to seep from the ground itself, and every member of the group started to feel under pressure, as if they were being watched from somewhere nearby that they could not see. Several times Paul felt as if he was being watched from behind and he spun around to see nothing at all. Yet the feeling prevailed.
“Something is watching us.” said Brith but an hour later as they walked further into the woods and mid-afternoon approached. Now the trees seemed denser, the light from above d
iffused and slight. A gloom fell upon the road and then a musky smell of loam blew on the breeze through the woods from what Paul thought may have been the north.
“Rain approaches.” said Spar, and sniffing the air Paul felt he could feel moisture on the wind, a slight chill now settling about the forest. But an hour later soft splashes of water began to fall on the leaves and Paul reached into his rucksack and took out the cloak he had been given by the tinker. Carefully placing it on his shoulders he raised the brown rough clothed hood and felt instantly safe from any rain that was about to assail them. Moments later a loud peal of thunder broke high overhead and the rain began to fall in earnest.
Paul watched the Groblettes donning cloaks and hoods and huddling into them from the rain, which splashed heavily about the forest path, churning the dry earth into mud almost instantly. The gloom continued to darken as the rain fell and they found themselves jumpier as they travelled, though now the mud and rain slowed them greatly.
“This could add a day to our journey out of the woods if it keeps up.” groaned Wavebrite, but none of them could gather the courage or need to travel any faster. They were bogged down not just by the mud but also the feeling of impending doom which seemed to sink into each and every one of them with every step.
Eventually the rain became too much for them and the encroaching darkness seemed to indicate that night had fallen and so they stopped and began to make camp. It was not a natural conclusion to the day’s travelling. To Paul it felt more like they were simply giving up on travelling any further. Food was passed around and the stones were nonchalantly laid in a tight circle about the camp by Ybarro and Sparr and eventually they began to drift off to sleep.
Paul lay unmoving in the dark, but Flip nearby seemed to be having difficulty sleeping.
“Tell me Master Paul.” came his voice eventually, “It is about what you were talking about before.”
Into the Light- Lost in Translation Page 17