by Melina Grace
After a lull in the conversation, Crispin sighed and said, “I can’t believe I lost the pendant.”
“Well you didn’t lose it Crispin, It was forcibly taken from you by superior numbers, it’s not like you were just careless.”
“I never should have let our numbers get so low. The King sent us out with sixty Horse, I had no right to divide our force. I wasted time haring off, trying to protect villages when I should have been returning to The King as quickly as possible with three score behind me to protect the pendant.”
Caris looked at him appalled. “Do you really mean that?” she asked in a small voice.
Dejected, Crispin shrugged his shoulders.
“Is that what The King would want you to do? Is that what he expected?” she asked.
“No.” Crispin replied unwillingly. “The King is foremost loving and compassionate. He would have achieved both. He would’ve helped everyone, more successfully than I did and he would’ve kept the pendant safe!”
“Well, why didn’t he do it himself then?” Caris asked, angry now that The King had placed such unrealistic expectations on Crispin’s shoulders.
Crispin didn’t react to Caris’ anger. “The King could not be spared from the battle. The need there was too great. Though without the pendant, his task there will be much more difficult.”
“What’s so special about this pendant anyway?” Caris asked, still angry.
Crispin looked at Caris, “I keep forgetting you don’t know about it.” He paused then said simply, “The King’s pendant can be used to reclaim the lost ones.”
“The who?” Caris asked
“The lost ones. The people who attacked us and stole it.”
“Oh, I’ve been calling them the grey people...because they’re grey,” Caris finished lamely.
“They are known as that too.”
“Who are they?”
“They are people, were people. Normal, everyday people. The Dark One spread his shadow over them and changed them into what you saw.”
“That’s awful!” Caris said aghast. After a pause she asked, “Why didn’t you use the pendant to change them back when they attacked us?”
“Only those of royal blood can use the pendant.”
“But why? Surely in those circumstances The King would make an exception?”
“The King never holds anything back for himself that he can give away, but the pendant will not work for anyone else.”
“Well, why did the grey people steal it then? Surely they would want The King to have it, so he can return them to normal.”
“They are slaves to the Deceiver, they do not think of their freedom. They obey only him.”
“And the pendant is gone,” Caris said quietly.
“The pendant is gone,” Crispin agreed.
After a while Caris resumed the conversation, “but why was the pendant up north and not with The King?”
“He was betrayed. One of his closest friends stole the pendant from him while he slept, and delivered it to the lost ones. He was paid a large amount of money. The King sent us out after them first thing in the morning but they had a large head start on us. They had laid false trails and we headed west to overtake them. They knew we would expect them to go that way, but the Deceiver is cunning and he had sent them north.
It took a couple of moons before we finally traced them in the north. We caught up with them just in time. If they had made it beyond the mountains they would’ve been able to wind back west through lands too dangerous for those who don’t walk in darkness to have much chance of survival. But, we caught them and were able to sneak into their camp, when they finally succumbed to sleep, and retrieved it from them. They had run themselves to the bone and could not follow us.
I became too complacent once we had it back. The Dark Lord has been sending far more derks east; they are not smart enough to try to steal an object. Their job is to devastate and destroy. I believed we could lend aid to those who needed it and still hurry back to The King with the pendant.”
Caris finally asked the question that had been nagging her, “Why wasn’t I told that we were protecting something of such importance?”
Crispin looked at her and shrugged, “We were handpicked by The King for this mission for our ability and discretion. We had regained the pendant, but we didn’t want everyone to know where it was. We needed to return it to The King without gaining the Deceiver’s attention. The less people who knew, the better; there didn’t seem to be any need for you and Janen to know as we were just on a return journey. Do not be offended Caris, it was not a slight. There was just no need to tell you.”
Caris accepted his answer. She had one more question but was too afraid to ask, ‘what would Crispin do now? Would he choose for the two of them to pursue the grey people into the west on their own, or would he go back so they could gather more people to aid them?’
Judging Crispin would be well enough to travel a small distance the next day, Caris spent the rest of the afternoon making final preparations for their journey. Crispin spent some more time sleeping; when he was awake, he sat morosely staring west. By the time they settled that night, they were both tense with worry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Caris woke the next morning to find Crispin up and seated by the river. He greeted her with a smile. “Sleep well?” he asked.
“Once I got to sleep. You?”
“Terribly,” he replied with a laugh. “I spent half the night trying to decide whether to go west or east”
“And?”
“East,” he said, with a smile and a nod. Caris released her breath.
“I spent hours trying to work out what would give us the best chance of recovering the pendant, but every plan I came up with was no good. With the head start the lost ones have on us, we would never catch them before they reach the Deceiver’s stronghold. Finally, I set myself to thinking about what The King would do in this situation.”
“What would he do?” Caris asked, still a little angry about the unrealistic expectations The King had of Crispin.
“Well, he wouldn’t be so worried for starters!” Crispin laughed. “The King is never fazed; he always has a plan B. At first I got angry with myself for not having a plan B.”
“You’re not The King!”
“Exactly! Maybe I should’ve had a plan B, maybe there were things I could’ve done better or differently, but regardless...” he took Caris’ hand, joy and relief shone from his face, “The King always has a plan B.”
Caris looked at him blankly. He smiled at her.
“The King has a plan B to retrieve the pendant. The deceiver may be cunning but he’s got nothing on The King. How arrogant of me to think I was the only way The King could recover the pendant. He will recover it Caris.”
Caris didn’t know how Crispin could be so sure, but his confidence was almost palpable, and Caris found the tension easing from her shoulders.
“Will The King be angry at you?” she asked gently.
“Me? No. What for? You said it yourself Caris, what could I have done differently? The King knows me and he knows I will have done everything to the best of my ability. He does not ask more than that. No, there may be times when I condemn myself for my failure, but The King is much more gracious than I.”
He laughed and said, “He’ll probably thank me and commend me for my efforts. At the very least he’ll give me a hug.” Turning to her, he said, “You haven’t been hugged till you’ve had a hug from The King, Caris. There’s nothing like it. He’s this huge bear of a man. He pulls you in and wraps his long arms around you and all your hurts and self recriminations just melt away.”
Caris found it hard to conceive most of what Crispin was saying, but she couldn’t deny that thinking about The King, instead of focusing on his failure with the pendant, had completely transformed Crispin’s attitude. The man sitting beside her, radiating peace and joy, bore little resemblance to the miserable man she had talked with yesterday. A longing f
illed her to meet The King and receive a healing embrace like the one he spoke of, but even as hope filled her, a deep sadness nestled beside it that she would never be worthy of The King’s attention.
Crispin rose to go to the river to drink, breaking Caris out of her reverie. She prepared a hearty breakfast for them. Crispin needed his strength built up and there was no need to hurry as they would not be spending the full day travelling until he was fully recovered. After breaking their fast they walked in different directions and finding nooks where the river had carved into the trees they each stripped off and washed.
Despite their leisurely start to the day it was still early when, with Crispin mounted on Indira, they headed toward the trees. Caris stared straight ahead with a sense of foreboding. Though she had been in and out of the trees repeatedly over the last couple of days, the feeling of danger hadn’t lessened under their branches.
She walked in the lead at a crisp pace. They had a long way to go and with her on foot and Crispin not well, their journey would be protracted. Even had time allowed it, she would not be inclined to walk at a leisurely pace in these woods. They did not invite enjoyment or reverie, rather Caris found herself constantly on the alert.
Caris glanced back at Crispin and found him looking uneasy as well. She was not sure if she was relieved to have company in her fears. She had hoped that she was just having difficulty recovering from the terror inspired by her grey-scaled attackers, and that these woods harboured nothing more sinister than any other woods. Crispin’s tense shoulders and worried features disabused her of her wish.
They travelled for only half a day over the next few days. Caris would have done less but Crispin insisted they keep going until his head pounded with pain and dizzy, he began to slip from his saddle. Each time Indira came to a halt, Caris turned and seeing the problem, was able to jump back in time to lower him to the ground. She would have reprimanded him for pushing himself too hard, but didn’t want to add to the pain in his head.
She would lay him out sweating on her roll and go for a scout around the area. She never went far, not liking to leave Crispin alone in this chilling forest. Twice she found a stream nearby and after he had rested moved Crispin there to set up their camp for the night. Only once did she have to get Crispin back into his saddle in the afternoon to press on until they found another creek.
Even at the streams, the canopy of leaves far above their heads remained unbroken. The trees spread out around them in unvarying regularity. There remained little undergrowth, except the occasional fallen mammoth trunk. A few small plants would cluster around it, revelling in the tiny swathe of sunlight admitted through the broken canopy above.
Whenever Caris happened upon one of these openings at a time of day that afforded the sun an opportunity to intrude, she would take the time to stop and bask in its light with Crispin. The warmth was pleasant but did little to alleviate their fears. There was a constant sensation of being watched, as if something lurked behind every tree. Caris was a good hunter and she knew there was nothing around except the small animals that formed Crispin’s and her meals. She could not account for her apprehension, which instead of lessening with her familiarity with the forest, continued to mount.
The beginning of each day brought some relief to their mounting fear. Before Crispin became too exhausted, he pointed out different mushrooms and plants that clustered around the logs, telling Caris the names he knew, which ones were good to eat and any medicinal properties of which he was aware. He admitted he didn’t know a lot about the healing virtues of plants, but what he did know he was happy to share. Caris had a good memory and found a new delight in discovering a wealth of fauna she had never seen before.
She wished Crispin could have been awake to tell her about all the beautiful plants in the jungle where they had first camped at the bottom of the fall of water. Crispin was also able to put names to the small animals that hid in the tree bowels, fallen logs, and burrows that studded the forest.
It was their fourth day in the forest. Crispin had been growing stronger each day. Caris judged the sun must be about mid way across the sky, though it was hard to tell through the thick foliage. She glanced over at Crispin, his colour was still good, and he was riding easily. She was encouraged by his returning health; this was the most he had ridden in a day. Caris had been collecting small plants and mushrooms, as they travelled, and had a varied assortment for their midday meal. She began to look for a stream and a good place to camp. Perhaps tomorrow they would continue to ride in the afternoon but today she hoped to convince Crispin to stop. The more he rested the quicker he would recover, was her opinion, though it was difficult to convince him.
Caris finally decided to broach the topic they had both been avoiding for three days. “You know all about the plants and animals of this forest... but what else do you know about it?”
He looked at her keenly, “The plants and animals I have pointed out to you are common to many places; I know nothing of this forest. I have rarely travelled west, indeed few do, but when I have gone west, it has been on well-travelled tracks to the south or north of here. Never through here...” he murmured the last as he looked around. After a moment, he brought himself back to the conversation. I have never heard tell of anyone who has been through this forest, or any mention of it.”
“Well it can’t last forever,” Caris said, trying to lift the mood. They continued in silence until they heard the beckoning gurgle of water ahead of them through the trees. They hurried toward the sound and were awarded by the sight of a rocky creek splashing through the forest.
Lifting their eyes past it, they realised Caris’ words had come true. Beyond the creek, the forest changed as abruptly as the border between sea and land. The sight, rather than filling them with hope though, inspired fresh fear. The bush on the other side of the creek was, if possible, darker and more ominous than the one in which they had been travelling.
The tall trees fell away, with only an occasional one interspersed through the small trees that crowded each other as if in a fight to find space. Bushes filled the area beneath, and a myriad of plants grew under them. Everything looked entangled; plants grew over each other as if trying to strangle the life out of their neighbours. Caris’ eyes were quick to pick out the paths that ran into the bush but her vision could not penetrate the shadow very far and she wondered whether they ran true or dwindled away to nothing.
Caris and Crispin stared across the creek in dismay.
Eventually, Caris pulled her gaze away and started setting up camp. “I think we should camp here tonight, if we have to head into that I’d rather do it in the morning.”
“I wonder if we can go around it?”
Caris looked up with hope. “If you don’t need to sleep after our meal I could ride Indira to the south and see if it goes very far.”
“If I don’t need to sleep?” Crispin asked with a wiry smile. He was aware that Caris had been limiting her hunting to stay close to him. “Caris my protector.”
Caris blushed, offended by his gentle mocking tone. “You’ve been so unwell”.
“I know. I do appreciate you watching over me in this forest. I am, however, a great swordsman,” he said in imitation of the braggart he was not, “and if you would be so kind as to lend me Syngar’s knife I believe I shall be able to protect myself.” He said smiling.
Caris laughed at his posing, and then quickly laid out the meal she had gathered. Indira drank at the creek and cropped grass while Caris ate a hurried meal.
In a very short time Caris was on Indira’s back and heading south at a canter. She was surprised to discover how good it felt to be riding her beloved horse again. She could not really say she had missed Indira as she had been with her all the time, but when she rode, it added another dimension to their relationship. They were somehow in tune with each other. Sometimes Caris wasn’t even sure whether she had instructed Indira to turn or whether Indira instinctively knew what Caris wanted.
Car
is could feel Indira’s legs stretching out beneath her. They had kept her to a walk for days to accommodate Crispin. Caris let Indira have her head and revelled in Indira’s strength as she built up speed, stretching out into a full gallop.
As the wind blew through Caris’ hair, washing over her face, she whooped in delight. Though she didn’t like to draw attention in this oppressive forest, she hadn’t seen any real danger since they had set foot in it. She yelled again in defiance of the unseen menace.
Rather than alleviating her tension, she felt it mount. Her back tensed with the almost palpable feeling of eyes stabbing into her. She glanced over her left shoulder to the gloomy bush across the creek. She was sure there was something in there hidden amongst the bushes, something malevolent, and it was watching her. Caris heeled Indira, urging her on to greater speed, until they had left the spot far behind.
Eventually, Caris slowed Indira to a canter, conserving her energy. She looked ahead up the creek. There was no sign that the sinister bush thinned out or changed in the distance.
She clenched her jaw and continued riding until it became obvious that the ominous forest was not going to end any time soon.
The ride back was uneventful, Caris approached the place of her unadvised yelling with nervousness, but the feeling of menace was gone.
She arrived back to find Crispin, propped against a tree, sharpening Syngar’s knife with a rock from the creek.
On her arrival, he looked up with hope, but seeing her shake of the head, he lowered the knife to the ground with a sigh.
Caris and Indira drank from the stream in silence. The hairs on Caris’ arms were standing on end and she couldn’t stop checking the bush on the other side of the small murky stream.
“You could try the north,” Crispin urged. Caris eyed him critically.
“I’m not tired. I promise to stay alert,” Crispin assured her. His slumped shoulders and dragging speech gave the lie to his words, but Caris was as eager as Crispin to find a way around the sinister forest. She threw one last furtive glance over her shoulder at the bushes and, with a sharp nod, remounted Indira.