By Ways Unseen

by Daniel Dydek

  “He’ll carry it to the Kalen Woods,” he said. “Then we’ll worry about carrying it the rest of the way. Everyone ready?”

  “What is on your hip, Sarah?” Geoffrey asked.

  Sarah glanced down, then back up. “I told you I know the limitations of my magic,” she said. “This will help me be more effective this time through the woods. It’s actually quite light.”

  She pulled the mace from her belt: a shaft of white ash about the length of an arm was pommelled with an iron knob, with a black leather grip, and capped by a thick gold-hued disk; around the edge of the disk, eleven spikes about a finger-length each gleamed in red. A strange blue symbol was in the center of the disk, which Geoffrey assumed was related to the element of wind. She swung it a few time as if to show how light it was, then returned it to her belt.

  “It looks very nice,” Haydren said patronizingly; Sarah glanced quickly at him.

  “And very deadly,” Corith added.

  Haydren gazed at him for several moments. “Mount up,” he said.

  They headed out that morning with Rifkar in the lead, followed by Haydren, Geoffrey, Sarah, then Corith. The sorceress and their guide conversed in low tones; the others rode in silence. The same hidden valleys and cuts marked their trek across the plains of Qalat County; despite these, they made good time. By Mid-Morning on the second day, they reached the banks of the Vilde River, which they would follow south as it curved near the Northern Forest.

  By Half-Night on the fourth day since leaving Jyunta, they reached the edge of the plains, where the terrain dropped into the low moors. Here, a bridge had been constructed across the river, and the party rode across and set up camp on the far side.

  The next morning, once they had breakfasted and were in the saddle once more, Sarah spurred her horse forward to speak to Haydren.

  “Do you know how Corith is getting us through the Kalen Woods?” she asked.

  Haydren kept his eyes ahead. “I assume I’ll find out shortly after entering the woods,” he replied.

  “You mean you’re not curious?” she pressed.

  Haydren shrugged. “Not really.”

  She paused her horse until Geoffrey rode up beside. “Something is wrong.”

  Geoffrey nodded gravely, but said nothing.

  By Half-Noon, the walls of the Forest rose before them, and Geoffrey shuddered to think they were entering those pitch-black halls once more. With or without a guide, it was not a place he relished.

  They stopped at the forest’s doorstep and dismounted. Corith quickly divided up the packs, then looked expectantly at Sarah. “You mentioned torches?” he inquired.

  She reached into her pack and retrieved a wooden rod with an intricately woven basket of branches at its head. She cupped her hand around the basket and whispered a few words; when she swept her hand away, she presented it triumphantly to Corith: within the branches there now burned a brilliant white flame that did not consume the wood. Corith held his hand near it, and grunted when it did not burn him.

  “A gift from a friend,” she said. “Enchanted with fire; I speak the words, it lights. Also, it will burn orange at sunset, blue at night, and red in the morning. So we can keep track of the days, as well,” she added. Quickly delving into her pack, she produced three more, lit them, and handed them to the others.

  “Also, these,” she said, reaching into her bag and producing three small pouches. “Small vials of liquid that I’m told grant a measure of strength to the weak.”

  “Cerebrine?” Haydren asked, pulling out and inspecting a bottle of orange fluid.

  “I didn’t bother to ask. As long as it works, the witch can call it whatever she wants.”

  Haydren replaced the vial and glanced at her with a playful grin. “You don’t approve of potions,” he said.

  “Why should I? It takes no skill, just learning. Any dolt with time on her hands can learn to make a potion.”

  “It also takes very little energy,” Haydren returned icily. “I doubt many battles were nearly lost because a potion could not be made.”

  “Haydren!” Geoffrey barked.

  Sarah ducked her head. “Perhaps,” she said quietly. A breeze stirred her hair, and she glanced up. “But I doubt many were won because a potion could be made.”

  After quietly gathering the horses, Rifkar bid them all fare well and implored them to return quickly, which they promised to do as best they could. As Rifkar rode away, Haydren turned his back on the sorceress, drew his sword, and cut a hole in the growth at the perimeter of the forest. One by one, they all stepped in; once upon the other side, Corith held his light forward, showing their way deeper into the woods.

  “No path,” Haydren noted.

  “Perfect,” Corith replied. He glanced at Haydren and smiled. “Little known fact about the Kalen Woods,” he explained. “The rows of trees are straight; the paths twist and turn. If we stay off the paths, we won’t get lost.”

  “If that’s not irony,” Geoffrey said with a grunt. “I don’t know what is.”

  Haydren sheathed his sword and gestured ahead. “Lead the way, Corith,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  LEGENDS

  “I suppose you expect me not to worry this time?”

  “You should only worry when they choose wrongly.”

  “And what makes this time different?”

  “Their lights will not go out.”

  5 Mantaver 1320 – Summer

  As they walked that day, they came across only one path; Corith glanced up and down it, motioned to the others, and sprinted across. “The beasts often watch the paths,” he said when they had regrouped. “It’s best to be across them as quickly as possible.”

  “I would think they could see our torches long before we could see them,” Geoffrey noted.

  “I’m sure they can,” he said with a nod. “But I’ve never had one attack me when I’m off the path; I can’t explain it, but it works.”

  They continued without event. As evening approached, from the base of their torch-flames there sprouted thin tongues of orange fire which grew to consume the baskets. Almost as soon as it had done so, traces of blue began to rise, signaling night. Haydren called a halt to set up camp; after a brief dinner, guard times were set, and everyone rolled out their blankets for bed.

  “We should reach the first of the headwaters of the Tundee early tomorrow,” Corith informed them. “We’ll cross seven over the next three days, ranging from springs to little rivers. And there are no bridges,” he added before rolling over and closing his eyes.

  Geoffrey volunteered the first watch; as everyone was dropping to sleep, he roused Haydren. “May we talk?” he whispered.

  Haydren nodded. “Of course, Geoffrey,” he said. “We can always talk.”

  “I thought you might not want to earlier, with so many listening ears.”

  Haydren looked at him intently. “Why is that?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Pladt, and what you think about it,” Geoffrey said, trying to figure out how to approach the subject.

  “I told you what I think about it, the night he died,” Haydren said quietly, but with determination.

  “Corith didn’t sway you?”

  “Corith doesn’t know the entire story,” Haydren replied, not unkindly. He sighed, looking off into the darkness. “Geoffrey, from the very beginning, I feel like I haven’t had a lot of control over things; I would make decisions completely blind, hate it, and yet somehow it was the best possible decision I could make. I’ve talked to you about this before,” he said, glancing quickly at Geoffrey before returning his gaze to the forests. “But especially with Pladt; I mean, someone – we can only assume Semmelle – knew we were coming, posed as Faschek, and tried to kill him. Why? Why go to that trouble? Surely he wasn’t just randomly trying to kill passers-by, and by all accounts we should assume he was coming after me. And for that matter, almost every creature we faced nearly killed Pladt. They have been trying to kill him for a
long time.”

  He paused, and his gaze bored into Geoffrey. “When I arrived at the end of the battle, I didn’t see any kobolds Geoffrey. Not one.”

  Geoffrey paused for a moment. “Sarah summoned a wind,” he said, recalling. “It tore through their ranks and blew them away.”

  Haydren raised his eyebrows. “That must have been something to see,” he said, unable to hide a grin. Geoffrey nodded, also grinning at the memory of all those beasts tumbling away like leaves. “But,” Haydren continued, drawing their attention back to the problem at hand, “where did the kobolds come from who killed Pladt? After being blown away, did they come back and happen upon the roofs where he was?”

  “Do you think they came back specifically for him? That it was fated for him to die?”

  “I’m saying too much happens around me that I can’t explain or control,” Haydren replied. He paused, sighing once again. “I had a memory, in Estwind,” he said, his voice quiet once more. “I saw my parents; we were in a wagon traveling somewhere. In the memory, I fell asleep; and when I woke up, the carriage was on fire and my mother was pushing something long, thin, and hard into my arms and pushing me outside. I think she was giving me Aerithion, and I think we were in Burieng. The memory ended just as I left the carriage.” Haydren paused once more; Geoffrey let him sit without questioning him. Finally, Haydren continued: “The memory was sparked by something one of the mercenaries said; he said ‘sit down, child’ to one of the other soldiers. It was the same phrase my mother used at the start of the memory, when I was gazing out of the window of the carriage.” He looked at Geoffrey. “If I had not gone to Estwind, to that tavern, at that time, I would not have heard that phrase. But it’s not just that; we wouldn’t be here at all if we had not fought and defeated the Cerberus, which would not have happened if we had not gone into the forest in the first place. And then there are those strange thoughts coming into my head, that we talked about in Frecksshire.” Haydren shook his head. “I’m just waiting for some old man to tell me everything has been foretold, and that there is some great quest that I am the prophesied hero of.”

  “That would be strange, to say the least Haydren,” Geoffrey said with a small grin.

  “It’s not even that,” Haydren replied. “Even if that doesn’t happen, I just want to be in control of my own life.”

  “You want freedom in a land of serfs?”

  “Yes, just a little. I want freedom from the will of another; even if,” he added with a meaningful look at Geoffrey, “that will is some supposedly benevolent other-thing which, you say, always wants the best for me. I want to make my own choices and live with them, and I want to be confident in doing it.”

  “We all have to serve someone, Haydren,” Geoffrey said. “Right now we have to serve the Earl; when we have completed this mission, what did you plan to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Haydren replied, settling into his blanket. “I suppose it will depend on what we find out.”

  Geoffrey’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you expect to find?”

  “Proof that Lasserain was behind what happened to me, and to my parents, to Kitrel, and to Pladt,” Haydren replied matter-of-factly.

  “In which case you will serve a thirst for revenge?”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Whatever the God of All willed you to do,” Geoffrey replied.

  “So you would have me serve him instead, when you haven’t even proven to me that he exists,” Haydren said in disbelief.

  “He does exist, Haydren,” Geoffrey said. “He does; and I would rather serve him than anything else in this world. This world is selfish, Haydren, and corrupt; is there anything of good influence in it?”

  “I didn’t need the God of All to defend Jyunta,” Haydren replied hotly. “Was that also because of evil influence?”

  “You say you didn’t need the God of All,” Geoffrey replied. “The fool says he moves the branches by shaking the trunk, when it is the wind that’s in the treetops.”

  “Proverbs according to Geoffrey,” Haydren muttered. “May I go to sleep sometime before I have the watch?”

  Geoffrey gazed at him in silence for a few moments. “Of course,” he replied finally, quietly. “Sleep well, Haydren.”

  The next day, shortly after crossing the first headwater, Corith stopped short as a pair of green eyes winked on in the darkness.

  “Wait!” Sarah cried as all reached for their swords. They stopped, glancing at her quizzically. She mouthed a few words, stopped, and bit her lip with quick glances at the others; she had already told them to wait: could she say ‘never mind; go ahead’? The eyes drew nearer; a growl rumbled through the trees, and the beast bounded toward them.

  Focusing intently on the ground in front of the charging animal, Sarah whispered a quick spell – but nothing changed. Haydren quickly drew his sword; Sarah gazed at him unconcernedly.

  Suddenly, just as it entered the torchlight, the wolf collided with something none of the party could see. He bounced back a little and collapsed, then quickly scrambled to his feet and leaped back into the shadows.

  “It worked!” Sarah said exultantly.

  “What was it?” Geoffrey demanded as Haydren sheathed his sword.

  “That spell I found, that I told you about on the walls of Jyunta,” she replied. “It thickens the air – well, it’s more of a small section of air, about the size of a parchment, that blows with incredible force, making it feel solid from one direction. Of course,” she added with a laugh, “if you come at it from the other side, it’ll suddenly blow you over.”

  “Very effective,” Haydren granted.

  “I think that spell has been lost for centuries,” Sarah continued as they began walking again. “I may be the first person to have used that spell since the end of The War, even. The piece from where I learned it seemed old enough.” She glanced at Geoffrey, surprised that he said nothing, did not even grimace.

  The days passed without further event; after they had crossed yet another headwater – this one approaching the width of a river, though it was still shallow and slow-moving – Corith said: “Fill up your skins; this water is quite pure, and it’s the last we will come across for many days.”

  Five days later, after they had been walking long past lunch with no conversation, Haydren suddenly exclaimed: “How long do we have to travel east? I feel like we’ve been walking a straight line for months.”

  “In that case, we’ll be walking a straight line for another two or three months,” Corith replied with a grin that no one else shared. “Listen,” he continued, sobering. He turned to directly face the other travelers. “This is the longest part of our trip; we’re walking from the farthest western edge of the Kalen Woods to a point directly south of Iridescent Bay.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded for meaning.

  Haydren sighed. “That is a long way,” he admitted.

  “After that,” Corith continued as he turned and resumed walking, “The most we’ll spend walking in one direction will be five or six days at the most. Besides,” he continued in a lighter tone, “you get to see all the major sights of the Kalen Woods: Iridescent Bay, which you hope we get to see at night; Monte-Ir, the great fallen fortress of the ancient Kalen; and the mage’s village, if it hasn’t been burned to a crisp. And you’ve already seen the Seven Headwaters of the Tundee: not many get to see even that!”

  So they continued walking for days upon days, until Haydren lost count. “Nine,” Corith informed him flatly.

  “Since we came into the woods?” Haydren asked.

  Corith grinned. “No; since you first complained about how long we had been walking. We’ve been in the woods for two weeks, now.”

  Finally, twenty days after entering the forest, after a brief lunch, they crossed another path – this one ran obliquely to their line of travel – and Corith suddenly turned left and began walking up another hall of tree trunks. “Going north,” he said. “Four days to Iridescent Bay!”

 
“Why do you hope we get there at night?” Haydren asked. When learning geography, he had of course learned of the location of the bay, but he had never heard anything special about it.

  “I said you hope we get there at night; and, you’ll see,” Corith replied with an enigmatic smile.

  Four days later, they did see. While the torches still burned white, they came suddenly upon a wall of vines and brush. At Corith’s cue, Geoffrey and Haydren drew their swords and cut a hole; stepping through, they found themselves on a beach with turquoise waves gently lapping against a shore of white sand. They were at the apex of a cove of the bay, with the walls of the Northern Forest bounding it in. The sun was setting behind the trees, sinking the cove in cool shadow. Various bits of driftwood had collected in spots, and near the mouth of the bay fronds of palm and fern hedged in.

  Corith glanced at the sky. “It’s worth waiting until the sun sets,” he said. “We won’t lose that much time on our way to Monte-Ir.”

  So they waited, relishing the cool ocean breeze that wafted into the bay. The bay proper was large enough that they could not see the peninsula that bordered the bay to the east, but only saw the Forest’s shadow stretching toward an aqua horizon.

  Then, as the cove darkened, the water in the bay suddenly turned an iridescent green. At that moment, crickets began sounding with rhythmic chirping; bullfrogs, hidden in the driftwood, added their deep-throated bass, which echoed from within the hollow logs. A pair of birds, resembling herons, swooped over the bay; their wings of red and orange shone as their feathers burned in the evening sun that lay hidden over the tops of the forest. Their songs blended with the crickets and bullfrogs in a swelling symphony of nature. The ocean waves, still lapping against the shore, throbbed with green light that stretched to the treetops, then receded, then stretched again in pulsating beat to the song.

  As Sarah watched what laypeople might call a magical scene, she took a hesitant breath; the air spilled into her, calling her with its familiar song. But this time, there was a menacing undertone that she felt might have been there the whole time, seeping into her with every breath until it became unnoticeable. Had that undertone been there all the time? Or did it exist only here, in the Woods that had swallowed Monte-Ir, birthed Lasserain, and threatened to consume Quaran?