“How do you...” Milo started asking before her last statement registered. “What? What do you mean, it opens at dawn? The Great Barrow?”
“Hold on. Let’s go through this a step at a time. First, I’m glad to see you.”
“And I’m glad to see you! I mean, I’m glad you’re here, even if I can’t see you. Uh...where are you?”
“I’m over here on this rock.”
Milo saw a perfectly empty block of stone that looked like a perfect place for Stigma to be.
She explained. “When I reached Rykirk I had to steal food, and of course, nobody saw me, but I had to be careful to take only a little bit at a time so it wouldn’t be noticed. Then you showed up. While you were sleeping—I didn’t want to disturb you—Tinburkin arrived, so I thought it was best not to give myself away. I followed him when he went to speak in private with the headmaster. That’s how I learned that Rykirk is the Gate to the Great Barrow, and since that’s what Tinburkin was interested in, I realized that you had been on the right track all along. Tinburkin was expecting you to show up there, by the way.”
“How...what do you mean?”
“He told the headmaster he’s monitoring the progress of the contestants of the Magical Scavenger Hunt. He asked if anyone had come to Rykirk seeking the Gate. The headmaster got very upset, but he told Tinburkin no. No one had been there and if they had, he wouldn’t let them use the Gate for some frivolous purpose. Tinburkin assured him that the purpose was anything but frivolous, and pointed out that you had gotten there that very afternoon. Then he went to wait for you to wake up. I stayed to see what the headmaster would do, and he called his groundskeeper and told him to make sure the gate to the Gate was locked. So I followed the groundskeeper and when he opened the iron grill to look around inside the compound, I took the opportunity to slip through. When he left again, I put the hank of my hair into the lock for you to find, knowing that you would understand the message. Then I went to explore the dolmen.”
“The what?”
“The dolmen. That’s what it’s called. They were built in the Ancient Days and they’re passages between worlds. Sometimes they’re passages between the world of the living and the dead, and sometimes between the regular world and the legendary one. This one’s of that sort. I waited until twilight—that’s usually when a thing like this opens up—and I came through. That’s how I got here. So I waited for you. All that’s left for us to do now is to go over to the Great Barrow and see what we can find.”
Milo looked around. Despite the darkness, he could make out a huge hump in the countryside some little ways away, a soft, rounded shape devoid of the trees that surrounded it. “Is that what you mean?” he asked, pointing.
“Yes. Shall we?”
He felt her hand slip into his and they started down the hill. They would have to cross through the forest below before they reached the Great Barrow, but it wasn’t very far and should be fairly easy.
Bori was acting oddly. His ears were laid back and the hair along his spine was rising up into a ridge. He arched up his back, tail lifted and bushed. A whining growl came out of his throat, and Milo stopped.
“Bori? What is it?” he asked the swollen cat.
“Milo! Down!” Stigma screamed and jerked him sidewise. A blast of blue fire exploded just where he had been standing and he tripped and tumbled down the slope. He lost Stigma’s hand and Bori went bounding down-slope.
“It’s Kayn! Kayn’s here!” she screamed. “Trying to kill me!”
“Kayn?” Milo yelled, scrambling in the direction he’d seen Bori go. Her hand grabbed his again. “Trying to kill you? Why?”
He felt the press of her body against his. “He’s the one who placed this curse on me,” she hissed. “But I don’t know why he’s trying to kill me now!”
She pulled him behind an outcrop of rock and made him crouch down. A bright light like a flare arched up to light the hillside. “It’s not you,” Milo told her. “It’s me! He’s after me. He doesn’t care about you. Run! It’s me, and he’ll follow me. Stay with me and you’ll just be collateral damage!”
“Wha...” Stigma began, confused. “Why”—
But Milo broke and ran. He crashed and rolled and ran again, trying to run the same direction, more or less, that Bori had gone. Another flare burst in the sky with a hard white light as he tumbled hard across a log he hadn’t seen in the dark. It hurt. It hurt so bad he couldn’t breathe.
Bori was on his chest. “Get up! Get up, Milo! Run!”
He did. Bori bounded away, and they were into the deep shadow beneath the trees. More flares burst above the canopy, but Milo and Bori were hidden. It was slower going under the trees where Milo had to feel his way to avoid banging into tree trunks. Bori hissed directions to him to turn this way or that to avoid obstacles. Suddenly, a man stood in front of them.
He had a small lantern. “There!” he said. “Come along this way. I’ll take you to safety.”
“Who...?” Milo started, but the man was already moving away. Milo followed, not knowing what else to do. He picked up Bori, who was still wired with excitement.
They walked for maybe ten minutes before the man stopped. “There. That should do it,” he said. “You should be safe enough, now.”
“Who...?” Milo said again.
“I’m Culebrant. I live here. When I saw the commotion, I thought someone might need my assistance. Nasty bugger, the one after you. Haven’t seen his likes in these parts for a while. You’d best keep your head down until he moves along.”
“I...I have to get to the Great Barrow. It’s why I’m here. Can you get me there?”
“Yes, I can. But with that one trying to stop you, you might consider altering your plan somewhat. He’ll have you fried to a crisp before you even reach the barrow.”
“The...barrow?”
“The hill. The Barrow is a barrow. It was built, so it’s not a natural feature like a real hill. But I expect you know that.”
“No. I didn’t and I don’t know much of anything, really. I know who is after me, but I don’t know why—or, I don’t know exactly.”
“Either he really doesn’t like you and doesn’t want you to get to the place you want to go, or you have something he wants that won’t be damaged if he reduces you to a pile of ashes. Is that about right?”
“Yes,” Milo answered solemnly.
“More’s the reason I should help you. Who is this sorcerer who’s after you?”
“He calls himself Smith. Or Kayn. I think his whole name is Kayn Smith. Anyway, he and I aren’t on good terms.”
“Hmmm...Yes, I know of him. He’s been by here before. A very bad sort. If he’s your enemy, then you can consider me your friend. If it’s any consolation to you, he would treat me the same way he’s treating you. If we were to meet.”
“You know him?”
“After a fashion. He may, or may not, know of me. But his interests, or what he has in mind, would put us on opposite sides of the issue.”
Culebrant looked around at the dark forest. “You and he aren’t the only ones to come seeking the barrow just lately. There’s been an unusual amount of traffic here this evening.”
“There has?” Milo asked hopefully.
“Yes. Mages, witches, and enchanters of various sorts. Five so far, outside of you and Kayn. Is there some sort of convention taking place?”
“We’re...contestants all looking for the next clue in the Magical Scavenger Hunt. Except for Kayn.”
“Can’t say as that...ahh...event rings a bell for me. But then, I don’t get around as much as I did in the old days. Mostly, I live quietly here next to the barrow, in the woods. I’m a Woodcutter.”
“A woodcutter?” Milo asked. He had been thinking—hoping—for something more along the lines of a wizard. A powerful one.
“That’s right. And you? I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Oh, I’m Milo. And this is Bori.”
Bori had settled down by this
time and hopped out of Milo’s arms. He walked over to Culebrant with his tail high in greeting, waving in friendliest fashion. “Boriboreau, at your service,” he announced.
This startled Milo. Bori didn’t talk to just anybody. Culebrant showed not the faintest sign of amazement at meeting a talking cat. “Happy to make your acquaintance,” he said, stroking Bori’s head in greeting.
“I believe we should be on our way,” he advised. “You’ll be much safer under my roof than you are out here in the open forest.”
“Thank you, but I really do need to get to the Great Barrow.”
“Because of this scavenger hunt?”
“Yes...or actually, it’s gotten to be more than that since I got into cross purposes with Kayn. Kayn isn’t part of the Hunt. He wants something, the same something I came here for. I can’t let him get it, and I have to find out why he wants it so badly,” Milo added, surprising himself by how much he had already told this stranger. “I don’t really understand, except that I’m wrapped up in it, and that I don’t have any choice but to succeed,” he added, trying to cover for having said too much.
“Then I must help you. But walking straight into the place where this Kayn is waiting to finish you off seems decidedly self-defeating, wouldn’t you say?” He didn’t wait for Milo to answer such an obvious question. “I can help you in several ways: I can give you a safe place to hide from Kayn until you’re ready. I can prepare you to deal with him when the time comes, and I can teach you how to learn what you seek from the Great Barrow. You see, of the two—Kayn and the Barrow—it’s the Barrow itself that’s much more formidable. I’ve seen many self-serving mages such as Kayn come here seeking what the Barrow holds, and it defeated them. They were rash. This Kayn appears to be so filled with himself that he is unwilling to put in the time and hard work necessary to solve the mystery of the Barrow. Without the proper preparation, the power they thought to steal is too great and therefore, it eludes them. Take your time, young Milo. Allow this Kayn to confront the enigma of the Barrow on his own. Wait for him either to move on or reap the harvest of his own sowing—without you or the thing he hopes to take from you. Meanwhile, apprentice yourself to me and I will guide you into the ways of a Woodcutter.”
A woodcutter? Why, Milo wondered, would he choose to become a woodcutter with all the serious things he was facing?
“You’re young,” Culebrant said. “But by now you’ve surely noticed that those who announce themselves with impressive titles and claim high-sounding abilities may be no more likely to actually possess mastery than those who offer their services in humbler ways. Think, for a moment, of those you’ve met along the way. Which ones stood out offering extravagant claims, and which ones offered gifts with a modest hand?” He waited, watching Milo think. “See my point? It’s time for you to practice the discipline of the Woodcutter.”
Culebrant ended with a chuckle. “Besides, I have a nice porridge simmering on the fire and no one to share it with.”
16
Woodcutting Lessons
The sky was graying when they arrived at a low cottage in a small clearing in the wood. Built of closely fitted field stones, it had a somewhat irregular oval shape with a tall, conical thatched roof that steamed softly in the chilly morning air. Milo had to duck slightly to pass under the door frame and noticed for the first time how short Culebrant was, who didn’t have to duck. Inside it was humid and warm, with pleasant smells of herbs and wood smoke. It was illuminated by no more than the soft, reddish glow of a fire in an open hearth in the middle of the single, circular room. Its smoke rose straight up to gather in the high cone of the ceiling, where it seeped through the mat of thatch. A blackened cauldron hung above the fire from a hook made of an elbow of wood suspended from the crooked beams of the roof framing. The contents of the cauldron simmered enticingly, giving off an inviting aroma.
“First thing, let’s see your injuries,” Culebrant said, motioning Milo to take off his jacket and shirt. Even by the subdued light of the fire, the fresh bruise from smashing against the tree trunk on the flight down the hill was becoming visible. Culebrant looked at it, probed it gently with his fingers as Milo flinched, then began pulling down swatches from the herb bundles that hung in the rafters. While his back was turned, Milo quickly slipped the cord that held the pouch with the stone cross from around his neck and buried it in his pocket. Meanwhile, Culebrant mashed the herbs he’d chosen between his palms, added some paste from a small clay pot, and smeared it onto the skin where the bruise was and wrapped soft, fibrous strips around Milo’s chest.
“Leave that on for a day or two and you’ll be just fine,” he said as Milo put his shirt back on. “Now that we’ve done your outsides, let’s see what we can do for your insides.”
Culebrant ladled portions of porridge from the cauldron into two bowls with a wooden ladle and handed Milo one of them. “Sorry, Old Fella,” he told Bori. “There’ll be fresh milk after I milk Bernice, my goat, in just a little bit. But don’t worry. I won’t forget. Neither Bernice nor Molly—she’s my cat—would let that happen.” As he spoke to Bori, he handed Milo a hand-carved wooden spoon. “Perhaps a bit of salt pork would tide you over until then?” he asked the cat.
Bori indicated that that would be acceptable. Culebrant carved a few slivers of meat from a smoked ham that hung in the rafters and gave them to Bori.
Milo sipped the porridge in appreciation. Peering up into the dim, smoky rafters, he saw all manner of objects hanging along with the ham and the herbs. He recognized items like smoked meats and sausages, but there were also bundles of sticks, tools, and implements whose purposes Milo could only wonder about. It was like the stuffed, messy closets that some people have. Despite the haze of smoke above, the air below where they were was clear, much to Milo’s amazement. The whole arrangement was decidedly rustic, but it seemed to work in a comfortable, practical way.
“It’s simple,” Culebrant said, as if reading Milo’s thoughts, “but it suits an old man’s needs. I live here alone, except, that is, for Bernice and Molly.” He turned to address Bori. “You’ll be making Molly’s acquaintance soon. She’ll soon be in from dawn mouse patrol. Perhaps you’ll be able to give her a hand. Keeping the mice in check around here’s a full-time job.”
“Perhaps I could lend my services for a bit,” Bori replied. Milo knew that the mention of Molly had something to do with his disposition to help out.
Culebrant took Milo’s empty bowl as Milo finished the last of his porridge. “I expect you could use a rest after your journey. I’ll make you a pallet over there by the far wall where you can sleep undisturbed. As to the urgency of your mission”—he continued, cutting off Milo’s haste as he put away the bowls after washing them in a wooden pail—”there’s no need to hurry until you’re ready to confront the challenges of the Barrow. It’s been there these many, many years, and it can wait for you a bit longer. Rest for now and when you wake, we can start your apprenticeship.”
“But...I got here with a friend...” Milo began to explain, worried about Stigma and how she might have fared with Kayn, but he felt suddenly so sleepy—had Culebrant put something into his porridge? He could barely hold his eyes open long enough for Culebrant to show him to a low bed of rushes covered with plaid wool blankets. He slept as soon as his head landed on the pillow.
Milo awoke hours later, much refreshed and in relaxed spirits. His bruised side didn’t hurt and as he opened his eyes, two sets of peering cat eyes met his. One set (Bori’s) was green and another set—unknown—golden. The face that held the golden ones was black and almost invisible in the dim light of the cottage.
“May I introduce Molly,” Bori said, indicating the stranger. “I’ve told her all about you, and she’s eager to make your acquaintance.”
Milo sat up and stretched out his hand, allowing her to sniff the back of his curled fingers. That done, she allowed him to stroke her under the chin and ears. She purred.
“Where’s Culebrant?” Milo as
ked.
“Outside. He told me to tell you there’s soup on the fire if you’re hungry, and then join him out-of-doors.”
Milo wasn’t hungry, so he went out.
“Ready to work?” Culebrant asked as Milo entered the yard, blinking like a mole in the hazy sunlight. Gradually unsquinting his eyes, he saw what he had not been able to see the night before. The trees were not summer green, but had turned into autumn reds, golds, tans, and russetts. The autumn air was crisp with a chill that resisted the efforts of the sun to warm it.
Culebrant was cutting tree limbs into firewood. He showed Milo where to carry the pieces to stack up alongside the cottage. It felt good to move and breathe clean air, and Milo worked happily for some time, matching Culebrant’s wordless activity.
After a time Culebrant took a break and Milo sat alongside him on a log. Milo’s question came out without thinking. “Does the name Heronsuge mean anything to you?”
“Yes, it does,” he said without evidencing surprise. “Does it to you?”
“No, not really. He’s the reason I came to the Great Barrow. I was told by a...a reliable source that he could tell me what I need to know.”
“I expect that’s right,” Culebrant said and went back to work.
“Can you tell me about him?”
“Yes, I can and I will. Like you said, it’s what you came for. It’s why I took you as an apprentice.”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t think that helping me cut up wood was the reason I took you on, did you? There’s more to it than that.”
“What do you mean?” Milo asked again, more perplexed than before.
“Well, for one thing: shields.”
“Shields?”
“You’re wide open. If you meet Kayn like that, or Heronsuge, for that matter, he would instantly see how unprotected you are. Kayn would smash you for no better reason than you are unable to protect yourself. So you need to be able to create and deploy your own shields. And then there’s the lore of trees.”
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