BlackThorn

by DeWayne Kunkel

  “We?”

  “Where I go,” Connell nodded to Casius. “He goes as well.”

  D’Yana shrugged, “He asked for you alone, but I can see no harm in Casius coming along.”

  “Thank you,” Casius said sarcastically, not sure if he had been insulted by her statement.

  “Where is your Camp?” Connell asked heading off any sharp reply from D’Yana.

  “Just beyond the westerling trail a short distance within the forest.”

  “Your employer is an idiot with a fool for a guide!” Connell exclaimed. “No sane man would place himself at such risk.”

  D’Yana’s cheeks reddened in anger. “It was he who insisted on it. Over my most vehement objections.” She snapped back defensively. After a moments hesitation she let go of her anger with a deep breath. “Does this change anything?”

  Connell paused, feeling the weight of the coins tucked in his belt. He had no desire to walk beneath the boughs of the haunted wood but he had need of coin and this money would make their trek easier. “Nothing,” he answered.

  Casius watched the change in his friend with interest. Connell held a fortune in gold and had actually considered setting it aside at the mention of the forest. “What could be in this forest that poses so grave a risk?” he asked. “A few bears and wolves perhaps?”

  “There’s more than bears in that accursed wood Casius,” Connell replied coldly. “You can be sure of that.”

  “Bah,” D’Yana scoffed. “Mostly shadows and stories from what I’ve heard.”

  Connell smiled knowingly. “A few days in its depths and you would think differently. I’ve traveled those forgotten roads and prayed I would never have to do so again. Nallen Forest is not for the faint of heart.”

  “The wood where Tanuth was given the axe?” Casius asked.

  “The same,” Connell answered. “There are many legends wrapped about the wood. At one time its trees were even worshiped by the people of these hills.”

  “When do we leave?” Casius was looking forward to moving on. The forest did not frighten him after all he had survived his own trial in a gloomy wood back on Kale.

  “We leave as soon as possible, the storm will cover our departure.” Connell looked about the room. He had noticed several shady looking characters taking more than a casual interest in them. “The trail will be treacherous in this weather,” he warned.

  “It is not as bad as you would think,” D’Yana said. “The cliffs shelter it from the worst of the wind and rain. It is slow going but passable.” Just as she had finished speaking, the entire building shook from the powerful thunder of a nearby lightning strike.

  “It is not the wind or rain that concerns me,” Connell said once the echoing rumble had died down. He turned to Casius. “Get your things together we leave within the hour.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Casius flinched as another bolt of lightning lit up the darkness. He held tightly to his horse’s reins as the mount tossed its head in fear. He stood within the meager shelter offered by the stable’s overhanging roof. It kept the worst of the slashing rain at bay but he was already soaked to the core and he doubted if anything in his saddlebags was dry.

  Connell was nearby tightening the straps on his saddle. The black warhorse rolled its eyes angrily with each peal of thunder.

  Casius took another step away from the brute; he had been bitten once by it. For some reason it blamed him for the raging tempest. The dull ache in his shoulder a painful reminder of the horse’s strength.

  D’Yana appeared at the gate leading a gray mare. She waved for them to follow. Between the echoing roar of thunder and the howling of the wind any spoken words would be lost in the tumult.

  Connell led his mount out of the shelter and into the storm. Casius followed making sure he stayed far enough back that Connell’s mount could not reach him. A kick from those powerful hooves could easily kill a man.

  Through the rain swept streets the trio traveled and to the guard’s amazement they passed out the open gates. The walls of the town vanished quickly, swallowed by the whirling sheets of water.

  D’Yana led them down a narrow trail that veered westward. The wind blew at their backs plastering their soaked cloaks to their bodies.

  Ankle deep mud pulled at their boots slowing their progress. Every step became more difficult as the muck clung to their feet.

  Casius pulled his cloak tighter; it was a futile gesture doing little to ward off the chill of the frigid water that assailed them. Stinging droplets tore at his face forcing him to shield his eyes with his left hand. A few times he lost sight of Connell and after a tense moment the wind would lesson and the hulking dark form of his horse would appear out of the gloom.

  The path they followed led over the edge of a cliff, carved from the stone it descended from the heights switching back and forth along the rock face. In some places water poured from above cutting across the trail in powerful torrents that at times were knee deep and dangerous to cross.

  Casius kept close to the wall praying that the wind would not blow him off the edge. Several times he had slipped on the damp stone, only his firm grip upon his reins had kept him on his feet. The world beyond the trail had disappeared becoming a dark chasm etched with fiery fingers of distant lightning.

  D’Yana had spoken truly for the wind had grown weaker. It was disorganized and blustery no longer the fierce blow that battered the town far above them.

  After what seemed to be an eternity to Casius dark shapes appeared in the void below them. Becoming the wind tortured canopies of immense trees. Leaves torn from the swaying branches swirled around them, sticking to their wet clothing and faces.

  Branches cracked and trunks groaned in the wind. Down into the treetops the trail passed growing broader and less steep.

  The wind died down dramatically, its force unable to penetrate the verdant ceiling overhead. The gloom about them lessoned it seemed that the entire forest was aglow with a faint silvery light that shone from the massive boles of the trees.

  Casius stared in awe. The tree trunks spread far off in the distance resembling the towering rows of columns in a temple constructed by a madman. They grew arrow straight out of a thick carpet of ferns, bare of limb for well over two hundred feet. Their tops lost to sight, vanishing in the canopy above.

  The rain still fell, absorbed by the trees it became little more than a gentle drizzle. The air was cool, filled with the rich smells of wet earth and decaying leaves.

  The rumble of thunder faded until it only faintly reached their ears. D’Yana smiled, her voice cutting through the silence.

  “Stay with me,” she advised. “It is easy to become lost in this wood.” She mounted her horse and led them through the towering trunks, following a trail that only she could see.

  Connell rode with his back rigidly straight. His senses straining, his hand wrapped about his swords hilt.

  At first Casius could not understand his friend’s anxiety. Then the feeling of suppressed hatred and malice overcame the wonder of what he was seeing. The trees became threatening, to his eyes they appeared the same, unchanged since he first saw them. But in his heart he could feel their anger.

  The forest floor sloped downward, away from the mountains. They followed the lay of the land, walking their mounts along the banks of a swift flowing rill swollen from the heavy rainfall.

  The trees grew taller the further west they ventured. Becoming towering monoliths of wood whose canopies hung shrouded in mist.

  Dead branches reached down from above, festooned with long pennants of damp hanging moss that brushed their shoulders as they rode past.

  “I see no signs of felled trees?” He asked Connell compelled to speak softly by the brooding malice in the air. “With such a vast forest nearby you would think that the people of Two Falls would have need of lumber.”

  “They never cut these trees and few of them would venture as far as we have. To enter this land with axe or fire is to court disa
ster,” Connell replied knowingly. “There is more to this place than meets the eye.”

  “You’ve traveled through here and remained unscathed.”

  “I was more foolhardy back then and in a dire circumstance which offered few if any choices.” Connell spared him a look. “As to being unscathed,” he said with a small shrug. “I don’t think so, this wood has left its marks upon my soul.”

  “And yet here we are?”

  Connell grinned, “I am still foolhardy I suppose. Besides we have need of coin and this is well away from the Senatum’s reach.”

  Ahead of them out of the gloom loomed a tangled wall of twisted roots. The roots of many of the giants were knotted together forming a barrier twenty feet high in places. Some of the larger roots measured seven feet around, wrapping about its neighbors in a tight embrace that could never be broken.

  Suddenly Casius understood Connell’s trepidation, this barrier was too uniform to have been a mere coincidence. This was the work of a thinking mind; placed here to keep even the most determined explorers away. The knotted wall filled him with dread, and he had no desire to see what lay on the other side.

  “Well that tears it,” Casius muttered. “How will we get the horses over that?”

  D’Yana shook her head, confused by what she saw before them. “We have followed the markers I left but the opening through which I passed is no longer here.”

  “Such is the way of this forest,” Connell said. “It is forever changing, paths appearing and disappearing of their own accord. It is almost as if the trees themselves move about.”

  Casius laughed at the suggestion. The giants resembled oaks but their leaves were tinged with silver and the bark upon their mighty trunks was pale and smooth. He did not know what they were called but they were trees, with deep roots. Immobile sentinels of the forest.

  Connell ignored Casius’s snort. “We could go north a short ways, perhaps we will find an entry there.”

  D’Yana looked to the south and frowned. The trees seemed huddled all the closer together than where they now stood. “South holds no promise, we will go north and see if it is any better.” From her saddlebag she produced a handful of small white stones that gleamed in the dim light as if they had been polished. She placed two on one of the roots forming the wall. “Only a short way mind you,” she warned Connell. “I have no desire to become lost in this place.”

  They headed north and had gone only a small distance when the sounds of groaning wood and rustling leaves stopped them. They spun about in time to see a narrow pathway opening in the tangled wall.

  The large twisted roots slowly unwound drawing back into the earth with a low sucking sound.

  “As I said the trees move,” Connell reminded them. “Do we dare the passage?”

  D’Yana chewed her lower lip considering their next move. “I don’t believe we have any choice.” She looked to Connell for conformation. “If we turn back will another such wall stand in our way?”

  Connell shrugged, “I do not know,” he answered.

  “Then let us go forward,” D’Yana guided her horse to the opening. “Our business lies ahead.”

  “Have you both lost your minds?” Casius asked exasperated by the bravado of his companions. “Did you not see the same thing as I? Why should we go deeper into the embrace of this evil place?”

  “Because,” Connell answered him with a nod back to the east, “We have no choice.”

  Casius turned in his saddle and his heart sank, behind them a writhing wall of roots was erupting up from the damp loam. There would be no turning back; the Westerling trail was lost to them now.

  “Damn,” Casius muttered looking to Connell he could see his own concerns mirrored in the warriors eyes.

  D’Yana led them through the narrow passage, their legs brushing against the quivering tips of the roots as they passed.

  Casius flinched at their touch, he imagined that at any moment they would leap forth as a striking snake and crush him in their cold embrace.

  Beyond the dense barrier the forest opened up. The massive trees spread their boughs over a thick carpet of lush ferns. Scattered among the undergrowth lay the trunks of fallen trees, giants that had succumbed to old age and disease. The bone white boles draped with thick carpets of moss festooned with vibrant yellow flowers.

  Thin vines climbed the standing trees; from these long bouquets of white and gold flowers shed loose petals into the air.

  The heaviness of the air lightened and the sense of malice faded. A small touch of it remained making them feel as if their intrusion was being tolerated.

  The rain had finally ceased and a gentle breeze carried the falling petals and their heady perfume towards them.

  “Reminds me of a garden.” Casius opened his drenched cloak relieved that the rain had finally ended. “From your description I expected a far more gloomier place.”

  “Looks can be deceiving Casius,” Connell answered.

  D’Yana pointed to several brightly shining stones placed upon a mossy trunk nearby. “We’re back on my trail.” she said with some relief.

  “As long as no one has moved your markers.” Connell said jokingly.

  “You have become quite the pessimist over the years, haven’t you?”

  “Having a price on your head tends to make a man a pragmatic.”

  “Or is it the guilt you carry over what happened at Dal’Entor?” D’Yana asked. “You cannot continue to blame yourself. Haven’t you paid a high enough price?”

  “What happened at Dal’Entor was no ones fault.” Connell answered coldly. D’Yana had opened an old wound and he was loath to discuss it. “Who would have thought that the King would have thrown his full strength against such a small rebellion? He risked losing his entire kingdom had any of the other lands decided to rise up and join us.” Connell paused the battle coming fresh to mind. The faces of friends lost in the bloody conflict passed before his minds eye.

  “Yet you continue to live your life fighting the Senatum?”

  “I do what I can,” Connell agreed. “Not out of guilt. My fallen comrades wanted more for this land and I have tried to better it in their memory.”

  D’Yana smiled, “Perhaps you have not changed much.” She turned her horse and set off west once more with the others following close behind.

  “You know what’s odd, I hear no bird calls nor do I see any living thing other than us,” Casius said bringing his horse along side Connell’s. The gelding shied slightly, nervous to be so close to the powerful Warhorse.

  “They’re here Casius, our presence keeps their voices still. In a few hours time under the cover of darkness they will let themselves be known.”

  Casius looked at the eerie silver lit gloom. “Then the light from these trees will fade?” he asked not looking forward to spending a night in the wood.

  “Yes,” Connell answered him. “This light will end with the setting of the sun.”

  Casius could see the haunted look in his friend’s eyes. “Just what happened to you in here?”

  “We were routed by the King’s forces, those who escaped the slaughter reached the forest edge. Not daring to enter too far into its shadowy depths they clung to its border using the gloom of the wood to escape to the west. The Lakarrans were cowed by the woods reputation. Out of fear they did not pursue us, and many of my comrades lived to see another day.

  “A small number of us, five altogether, became lost. Separated from the others we followed narrow trails that appeared before us. These pathways were an illusion, always shifting and changing. Herded by the trees we had become hopelessly lost deep within the wood by nightfall.

  “You have felt the malice of the trees when we first entered,” Connell reminded him. “That was a mere taste of the anger and hatred that assaulted us. During that first night two of our number disappeared. We could hear their distant calls and no matter how hard we tried we could never reach them. Sounds do strange things here; one minute they are to the north the
next they are to the south. After many hours their calls faded and were heard no more.

  “The nights were the worst, long dark hours filled with such sounds as to freeze your very blood. Feral things skulked in the shadows, silent stalkers with burning eyes that watched our every move.”

  “You did manage to find your way.”

  “It was the wood itself that allowed us to do so. I think it tired of the game it was playing and drove us from its depths.”

  “But you survived,” Casius reminded him. “Were you the only one?”

  “There were three of us,” Connell replied. “I alone remained whole of mind. The others went mad from fear during the journey.” Connell said no more, sadden by the memories the tale had brought to mind.

  Casius looked on the wood with new respect, what could dwell in this place that could ruin a man’s mind? He wondered.

  Connell could tell that his tale had unnerved Casius. “If we keep our heads and use caution we will be safe enough. We are far from the forest heart and that is where the true dangers lie,” he said reassuringly. “D’Yana does not often play guide, whomever this employer of hers is has attracted my interest.”

  D’Yana led them deeper into the tranquil corridors of the forest. They forded a slow flowing rill of cold spring water.

  On the opposite bank she reined her horse in suddenly as a man stepped out of the shadows before them.

  He was of small stature, barely five feet in height. His hair was dark as midnight, grown long he kept it in a neat single braid that hung down his back.

  His garments were strange, a sleeveless tunic of dark gray that barely reached his knees in length. With a sash of dark green cloth tied about his narrow waist. Tucked through its folds on his left side were two rods of dull black iron, their ends wrapped in worn leather bindings.

  He moved silently, almost ghost like. His bare feet scarcely disturbing the leafy litter of the forest floor. His almond shaped eyes narrowed somewhat as he scrutinized Connell and Casius. With a short nod he greeted D’Yana.