By Ways Unseen

by Daniel Dydek

  She thought back to Jyunta, when last the sentience of the element had flowed through her the strongest. She had desired to show off the power of magic, on those now-distant walls, and had risked their destruction. Every spell she cast, destroyed, as if that were its only purpose. But had not the God of All used it to create? Geoffrey thought so; and it made sense. And here was a moment that seemed in every way of magic, and it was beautiful and soothing, something to revive the soul, not rend it.

  So she stood, afraid to breathe deeply for fear of a tainting element, yet desperately desiring it for its regenerative balm not only as it calmed those around her, but also as it would calm her as an ambassador of the element. Her eyes drank in the glow, her ears the symphony; but her heart trembled in fear.

  As the sun lowered, and the company watched in raptured fascination, the birds soon ceased their circling and retreated behind the towering trees. Lower the sun went, and the bullfrogs too trailed off. As the shadow descended fully, the green light of the bay winked out, leaving the crickets to finish the melody in hiding.

  Corith turned to his companions, but said nothing; their gaze said all that needed to be said. They set up camp on the shore that night, sleeping restfully at Corith’s assurance that no creatures of the woods ventured into the sacred harbor.

  The next morning, as the sun rose above the clouded horizon, they looked out across a bay that was as ocean-green as any other body of water. With hesitating backward glances, the party returned to the gloom of the woods, their white torches leading the way.

  “One day heading west, then its north to Monte-Ir,” Corith informed them as cheerily as he could; he knew, though, that the memory of the bay would be with them long after they reached that forgotten city.

  True to his word, two days after leaving Iridescent Bay, a dim light began shining in the forest, raising the blackness to a gloom. Their torches were just changing from red to white when they encountered a brilliant shaft of light thrusting through the canopy overhead; where it struck the ground, a crumbled stone building, bleached white, stuck out from the dark dirt like an ancient bone. In its center, a wand of sassafras poked through with green leaves as still as ancient dust.

  As they passed the building, stones worn by time showed through the forest floor, but quickly disappeared. Then, ahead of them, another group of broken buildings, some with intact roofs but many with sassafras, maple, elm, and sycamore growing from their floors rose again from the forest in a bath of pure light. Here, the flagstone road rose to the surface and remained, and the ancient city of the Kalen rang with footsteps once more.

  “Could you imagine what this might have looked like, when it was in full-bloom?” Corith said in wonder as they passed another set of tall, broken structures. “Even though I’ve been here before, I can’t help but think again what it would be like to clear the Woods, and to rebuild this city.”

  Walking further ahead, the city center came into view. Here, buildings clustered and towered overhead, some two or three stories tall – or, they would have been when they were still standing. Now, only small columns and rare bits of unbroken wall rose up to their once-glorious height. The road wound around the buildings as if an after-thought, until it brought them to the town square. Here, a dried fountain still stood, its basin filled with leaves from oaks which grew around the square.

  Even after the respite at Iridescent Bay, the company was not eager to move on, and decided to spend the night in the city. They sat in the square, or walked among the ancient ruins, marveling at the craftsmanship of ages now gone.

  “Who were the Kalen?” Geoffrey asked, when they all were gathered back at the fountain and sat enjoying a lunch as they admired the buildings around them.

  “I don’t think anyone knows,” Haydren replied.

  “Hmm,” Corith mumbled noncommittally.

  Haydren glanced at him with raised eyebrow. “Do you?” he asked.

  Corith took a deep breath and shifted his weight a little. “I have an idea,” he said. When everyone looked at him expectantly, he sighed. “I think they were elves.”

  Haydren barked a laugh. “Elves?” he asked incredulously. “Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking?”

  “Well it fits the legends,” Corith replied, a little hurt. “I mean, look around you; anywhere there is a building, the Woods don’t tread. The elves respected nature, so why shouldn’t nature respect them in return? The buildings are just like the ones in the old manuscripts.”

  “Which the authors probably got from visiting Monte-Ir,” Haydren said. “First, there are trees growing up through some of the ruins; and the Northern Forest isn’t natural,” he added soberly.

  “They say the Kalen Woods is revenge, a curse from the Kalen in return for destroying their civilization,” Corith replied. “They say it is growing again because it wants to reclaim the old kingdom, and the elves will return when it has finished that task.”

  “How big is the old kingdom?” Geoffrey asked.

  “All of Burieng north of the Endolin Mountains,” Haydren replied.

  Geoffrey whistled. “That’s not good news for most of the country, then,” he said.

  “If it were true, it wouldn’t be,” Haydren replied.

  “I’m not saying I have irrefutable proof,” Corith said. “But I have some documents from my father, and what it says leads me to believe the legends of elves are true, and that they are who the Burieng call Kalen, and this was their capitol.”

  “Could you imagine the festivals they probably held at Iridescent Bay?” Sarah said. “It’s certainly close enough to travel to for special occasions.”

  Corith shifted once more, knowing he was treading on fragile ground with Haydren’s disbelief. “One document my father gave me indicates they held wedding ceremonies there; that they taught the crickets and frogs and birds to do that in celebration of the union.” He glanced furtively at Haydren, who held his peace.

  It was not that Haydren wanted to disbelieve the legends of elves; it was just so commonly held that they were simply legends. In many places, they did not even carry the weight of legends, but were mere children’s stories to try to instill ethics in little boys and girls.

  They spent more time that day investigating the old city, wandering with trepidation into old cellars and overgrown buildings. One reminded Haydren closely of the large church in Hewolucs, with massive columns that arched near the top before breaking off. Much of the architecture was not impressive by modern standards; but the fact that it was built so long ago and had withstood the downfall of an empire was what caught the travelers’ breath and would not let it go. It certainly seemed as if nothing living had come to that city in ages, and nothing more would come to it for ages more.

  But, later that night during Haydren’s watch, a strange scuffling sounded down the road. He sat back into the shadow of a column, looking out to see if the creature would come into a light where he could see it. As it drew nearer, however, the sound became the distinguished tap of measured footfalls. Haydren moved over to Geoffrey and shook him, holding a finger to his lips as Geoffrey’s eyes snapped open. Immediately, Geoffrey heard the noise as well; he pulled his blanket gently aside and stood. Together, they moved to a pair of columns near the entrance to the square; slowly, cringing at every scrape, they drew their swords and waited as the footfalls neared. Geoffrey peered around the column; he glanced at Haydren, and then down at Haydren’s sword. The light within the Cretal flames was flickering once more, as it had the night at Faschek’s house when sleep had suddenly overtaken Haydren. Geoffrey’s brows knit, but Haydren shrugged helplessly.

  Geoffrey peered back around the column, then at Haydren and nodded quickly. They both stepped out, swords raised; an elderly man stopped short, dropping his bundle of sticks and his torch with a gasp. Haydren’s sword-point was at his throat, and the light of the flames had surged to the tip and flickered hungrily at him.

  “Who are you?” Haydren demanded while the man was sti
ll distracted by the flames.

  “Tagnier Belfrind, of Salme, in Salmea,” he replied quickly.

  “Belfrind?” Haydren repeated with a glance at Geoffrey.

  Tagnier lifted his eyes from Haydren’s blade and glanced between them. “Something wrong with the name?” he asked innocently.

  “We’ve run into a Belfrind before,” Geoffrey said, raising his blade a little higher. “With less than happy results.”

  “It’s quite a common name in Salme; very large family from there; relations all over the place. As a rule, quite nice; but there’s always rotten fish in the crate, isn’t there?” Tagnier said quickly, still casting furtive glances at the swords at his throat.

  “Why are you here?” Haydren asked.

  “Seapot, the King of Salmea, is interested in Lasserain’s village,” Tagnier replied. “He sent me to find out what I could.”

  “Seapot?” Haydren repeated, lowering his sword. “Why is he interested in anything on Burieng?”

  “He’s not,” Tagnier replied, a little more comfortable now that there was only half the amount of sharpened metal at his throat than before. “But Lasserain’s stench does not stop at Lune’s Inlet; after Kelian’s Earl allied with the mage, the threat to our nation is even greater. But one does not rush into the teeth of the Cerberus without learning its weaknesses, no? At least, I assume that’s why you all are here too; judging by your Rinc Nain accents, you are from Coberan.”

  “Quite right,” Haydren said with a quick glance at Geoffrey, who now lowered his sword. “Earl Durdamon has sent us on a similar mission; though he thought wise to send four of us, while you are alone.”

  “As you say,” Tagnier said wearily, “Seapot cares little for Burieng; little enough that he does not learn all the dangers of certain areas before sending his men to them. I came with three others, who perished before we even reached the Forest; though I am alone, I thought better to attempt to complete my mission than return to the King empty handed.”

  “Some kings prefer that,” Haydren said with a wry grin that quickly faded. “We lost a friend as well, on our journey. You may join us for now; your return to Salmea will be upon your shoulders, though.”

  “I thank you,” Tagnier said. Haydren gestured toward their sleeping companions; as Tagnier approached them, Haydren whispered to Geoffrey: “Our guard shifts remain the same; we don’t have Coberan accents, and we both know that. Don’t think because I’m congenial that I trust him; but he hasn’t tried to kill us yet, and I don’t want to kill him unnecessarily. If it is Semmelle in disguise, somehow, he would make a move on us soon. Keep an eye on him.”

  Geoffrey nodded quickly. “I’ll take my shift over for now, Haydren; just get some sleep.”

  Haydren agreed; when it came time, Geoffrey woke Corith and informed him about their new guest, who now slept soundly apart from the others. “Why don’t we just kill him?” Corith asked, fingering his sword. Geoffrey placed a restraining hand on Corith’s arm.

  “Because we do not know for certain,” he replied. “Haydren doesn’t want it, and I will not argue with his hesitancy to kill. Just keep one eye on him.”

  The next morning they began the last long leg of their journey, westward until they reached a stream which flowed south out of Haschina. According to Corith, they could simply follow the stream north until they reached the village.

  They walked in silence that day; for most of them, their minds turned frequently to Monte-Ir, and Iridescent Bay, and the possibility of an ancient race of elves which inhabited both. Haydren’s mind, however, was going over everything that had happened at Faschek’s house, comparing it to Tagnier’s interaction upon first meeting them. He didn’t like that his sword had reacted in much the same way as that night; that it reacted the same way to Paolound. That Faschek’s and Tagnier’s last name were identical could be a coincidence; but a dragon? If it reacted to evil, why not any of the other beasts they had fought, or bandits? There was no answer Haydren could come up with that satisfied him.

  Sarah’s stomach squeezed, trying to find a remnant of their small breakfast. Her eyes constantly found their way to their new companion, fixing until a sharp glance from him returned them to Haydren striding ahead of her. She didn’t feel what she had at Faschek’s, and that was comforting; but something inside her squirmed just a little when he glanced her way.

  Out of habit, she tested the wind; it greeted her, but shared no news except the stillness of the forest. She chided herself for worrying; she had only seen one or two envoys to Durdamon from Salmea, and this man looked reasonably close to them. Besides, her newly-tried spell was quick to cast, and she imagined it could be used to bind up someone, perhaps even blunt their ability to cast magic.

  Now if only it could be used to bring them a pheasant. She swallowed into an aching stomach.

  “Are we ever going to eat?” she exclaimed, halting suddenly.

  Haydren glanced back and sighed. “Stop complaining, sorceress; we’ve barely begun walking today.”

  Sarah eyed him closely, to see if he was joking. “No, Haydren; we’ve been walking for hours,” she said slowly.

  Haydren stared at her as if she were stupid. “Do you think I can’t track the passage of time?” he said. “We set out from Monte-Ir just a little bit ago. Geoffrey, how long have we been walking?”

  Geoffrey shifted his weight a little. “It’s been a while, Haydren,” he said gently.

  “See?” Sarah said loudly, her hands on her hips.

  “I was waiting for you to tell us to stop,” Corith said. “I was wondering what you were waiting for.”

  Haydren glanced at them all, uncertain now. “I’m sure it hasn’t been that long,” he said.

  “It has, you idiot,” Sarah fumed. “Here I am starving, thinking it’s only me; but no! Our supposed leader has gone out of his head.”

  Haydren sucked in his upper lip, trying to calm himself. “Don’t question me right now, sorceress,” he warned.

  “When should I?” she demanded. “I can’t do it after we all die from starvation. ‘Hey, whitened bones; am I doing okay?’”

  “Don’t press me!” Haydren said, stepping forward and jabbing a finger at her.

  “What are you going to do, deprive me of food? Oh! Wait!”

  Haydren stared at her as if she were insane. “Did your women’s custom start today?” he asked.

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes bulged. “Did my…are you…?” she gasped. Her mouth clamped shut, and her tongue clicked against her teeth.

  Suddenly, the air around Haydren’s head became thick, almost solid, and he found himself unable to breathe. When he opened his mouth, the air was sucked from his lungs and he felt as if his chest would collapse. His eyes bulged. He heard Geoffrey shouting at Sarah, though his voice was muffled as if he were a hundred paces away, and saw him waving his arms frantically. Haydren shut his mouth once more, and his lungs burned for breath.

  Sarah, for her part, looked terrified. Her mouth moved soundlessly, and suddenly Haydren could breathe again. He gulped air, bending over as his chest heaved.

  “I-I’m sorry,” Sarah said timidly.

  After several moments catching his breath, Haydren straightened. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped and laughed bitterly.

  “What is it?” Geoffrey asked, still beside Sarah.

  Haydren only pointed; the torches were beginning to turn orange. The day was nearly over.

  Later that night, when everyone else had dropped off to sleep, Haydren stayed awake with Geoffrey.

  “I know what I felt, Geoffrey,” he said. “I know now that the day had passed, obviously; but I know also that then it only seemed like we had just left. It still feels like this day was cut in half. And I was only in my thoughts; this isn’t like I was ten and playing in the fields.”

  “What do you think happened, then?”

  Haydren shrugged. “I don’t know; but I know Tagnier was watching most intently while Sara
h and I were having it out. And he seemed, I don’t know, almost unhappy when Sarah released me. Not unhappy like you were, that she had put a spell on me in the first place; but unhappy that she had taken it away. Guntsen would get the same way when a student’s punishment was over, like he didn’t feel they got everything they deserved.”

  “I was afraid of that happening, too; magic is too powerful and too easy to use to be coupled with anger,” Geoffrey said; the gaze he cast toward the sleeping sorceress was not of wrath, but of remorse, Haydren felt. “Nothing good comes from using magic.”

  “I’m not worried about Sarah, Geoffrey; but Tagnier,” Haydren said gently. “Could he have affected our torches, do you think?”

  “If he is a magic-user, he might have. That’s a question for Sarah. It doesn’t explain the rest of our perceptions of time, though.”

  “True enough.”

  “What do you want to do about it?”

  Haydren sighed. “I don’t know; maybe we should just kill him before he has a chance to do anything.” He paused, looking at Tagnier’s sleeping form. “Everything inside me says he can’t be trusted, that he’s dangerous and means us harm; but for some reason I can’t bring myself to do it, or to have anyone else do it.”

  “Get some sleep, Haydren,” Geoffrey said quietly. “We’ll keep an eye on him. It’s not a bad thing to be hesitant to end someone’s life.”

  They continued the next day without incident; six days later, as the torches began to turn to the orange of nightfall, the rippling sound of running water echoed beneath the canopy. With smiles that belied their weariness, they quickened their pace until they stood at the banks of a swiftly-moving stream as it cascaded down a series of rock slabs.