by Damien Lake
In fact, maybe he would find Adel and let her know exactly what he thought of her precious fringe towns. She’d be annoyed but she had it coming, especially from him. Then she would report straight to Farr about his return, and that would fulfill his duty to inform the council. Good!
Plans made, he increased his pace, trotting deeper into the forest.
* * * * *
It was not much longer when Colbey approached the outer edges of the Euvea. He had recognized this region in the outer forest for the past two candlemarks, his own patrols having involved this area. It was his intimacy with this sector that set off alarms in his mind. His neck hairs stood straight in atavistic wariness.
Something was wrong.
It was too quiet, which was only the most obvious sign. The songs, howls and chattering of the forest wildlife were utterly absent, unsettling the young Guardian who used the soothing background music of their chorus to sense dangers. Colbey had never heard the forest like this, where the only sounds were the leaves rustling and branches creaking in the wind. Animals usually hushed at the arrival of a larger, more dangerous predator. Except the silence never reigned absolute even then.
This eerie silence formed only part of the whole story. The forest felt wrong. His inability to identify the source of his unease made him tense as a strung wire near to snapping.
Nearly half a candlemark later he finally encountered a member of the absent wildlife. At the base of a forest slope he found a deer carcass, killed by its own panic. A misstep near the top had caused it to lose control. It broke its neck during the descent, which itself was hardly uncommon. But the lack of any feeding on the meat by scavengers and opportunistic predators did make it uncommon. Such a bounty would have been quickly discovered, yet the forest’s carnivores seemed as absent as the tooth marks.
What goes on here?
Only one scenario sounded remotely plausible. An incredibly dangerous beast must have escaped from the sealed areas outside the village. For certain, only a creature both massive and exuding extreme predatory presence could have spooked away the entire animal population thus. He needed to get back to the village. He needed to do it faster than he had planned to.
Colbey called upon his training as a Guardian, first calming his mind, then smoothing his breathing. He formed a picture of his body in his mind, imagining it strong and lithe, a running machine undaunted by distance. When he felt the surge of energy through his body released by the higher technique, he broke into a fast, steady run.
Minutes later he reached the Euvea groves, encountering not so much as a single bird. Colbey’s anxiety had grown substantially. He concentrated on the run to extract the most speed he could from the higher technique.
The massive roots here would slow him, so he climbed the first Euvea with a grace he still possessed despite his time away. He kept only his climbing spikes, weapons and water skin, storing his pack far above the ground in a niche formed by several branches dividing from the trunk. Colbey ran along the Euvea Road far above the forest floor. At first his path tended mostly upward since the trees on the edge were neither as tall or wide as their parents nearer the grove’s heart.
He needed to slow down to navigate the newborn offshoots and overgrown branches, which cut his speed. Soon enough he gained the regular patrol paths kept clear of obstructions. His pace increased as a sense of catastrophe threatened to crush him under its growing burden.
For candlemarks he sprinted. The closer he came to his village, the greater his panic increased. Was that smoke he smelled? During a high feast with the entire population, the villagers always curtailed any smoke so as not to betray their presence to any outlanders who might have penetrated deeper than they should have.
It definitely was smoke, and the smell thickened with every step he ran, setting his nostrils to flaring. He stumbled while he tried to work his legs faster than ever before.
Calm down! You are better than this. You don’t panic and you don’t lose control like a green scout trainee! Never! Now take stock and make your decisions.
No wildlife, smoke on the wind and no other patrols in sight. That was wrong, too. Very wrong! Where were the other Guardians and scouts on duty? Not on the paths or he would have found them. They must be involved in dealing with the trouble’s source, but to abandon the groves and leave them completely undefended? Colbey never in his wildest dreams imagined anything like this could be remotely possible.
Keep moving! Don’t stop!
He neared the village. Quick as a deer, he ran past the primary Guardian Post House for the east side. Door open, no one inside. Was that a splash of blood across the wall or had his eyes tricked him?
Keep moving! Don’t stop!
Finally! Nearly there! Around that ancient grandfather Euvea stretched the first walkway into the village. The Guardians there could tell him why the forest had gone so strange. Acrid smoke stung his nose.
Keep moving! Almost home!
Colbey ran down the branch, wide as the roads he had trod all summer. He darted around on the walkway encircling the massive trunk, built by the village folk to make travel easier here in their sanctuary. Once around the ancient tree, he ran within view of his home…and stopped. Unable to think. Nearly unable to breathe.
He surveyed the carnage, the wreckage of all that remained of his life.
* * * * *
Like a ship tossed from wave to beating wave in the midst of a terrible winter storm, the village Colbey looked upon had been shattered. The spiraling stairs winding around the enormous trees were splintered in several places, missing entire sections which could only be found by searching the flooded landscape below. Suspended walkways hung in tatters like tree moss against the thick Euvea bark. Houses and buildings perched in branch crotches or built upon trunk-encircling platforms were nearly demolished in most cases, completely gone in others. From everywhere rose a dark smoke that sent Colbey’s sinuses into revolt.
What had happened? What had happened to his home?
Colbey’s paralysis slowly abated, but the shock still overwhelmed him. The walkway on this side had disappeared so he instead climbed to one of the road-like branches. He strove to find any sign of survivors as he crossed to the village.
When he reached the first building, he found only debris from its walls choking the interior. No bodies, living or dead. The scene became familiar after he checked other buildings while making his way toward the village’s center.
Colbey finally found his kinsmen when he came within sight of the council building.
Far below were more bodies than he could count. Several floated upon the pool’s waters. Others lay twisted atop the breaching Euvea roots. None showed any signs of life. In blackest despair he approached the council hall and faintly heard movement within. Colbey rushed through the broad doors, desperate to find anyone of his kin still alive.
Not expecting anyone to charge in as he had, they almost slew him on the spot. Two men in the mottled colors the Guardians wore drew their swords on him in an instant. Colbey stopped cold. He showed his hands palms out.
“Hold, brothers! I am unarmed!”
The left man lowered his weapon. Colbey recognized Thomas, one of his instructors in the Guardian training. “Colbey? What in the hells were you thinking, charging in here like that?”
“I…well? What’s happened here?”
“Oh, right. You’ve been gone.” The older Guardian’s voice lowered to a softer tone. He sheathed his weapon. “You picked the hells own time to come back. Or come to think of it, it’s just as well you weren’t here. One fewer corpse.”
“What do you mean? Tell me what happened!”
“Move aside there,” Thomas ordered when another man walked through the door behind Colbey. He carried an unconscious villager over his shoulder who bore grievous wounds. Also wearing the Guardians’ greens and browns, the man continued with his burden through the door to the primary council chamber.
Through the open door Colbey could see that the c
hamber remained intact. The massive council table had been tilted on edge and shoved against the wall looking out over the village, blockading the main outer door. He also identified nearly twenty victims. Each was seriously wounded and laid out on the floor. Tending them were a few survivors, each of whom bore minor wounds themselves.
He looked closely at Thomas and the other two Guardians. Bulges betraying bandages beneath their clothing were visible now that he looked for them. “What happened?”
“Obviously we were attacked!” Thomas snapped while the other two exited the building. “Come and be useful. You can help us look for survivors.”
Colbey followed, asking, “Attacked? By whom? The outlanders?”
“Well, they weren’t from the forest, that’s for gods damned certain! But Adel didn’t recognize any of them.”
“Adel’s alive?”
“She was.”
“Oh…”
They came around the council hall. The new view revealed different stretches of the village. Colbey could see a few survivors poking through the ruins. He felt sickened after he counted the active spots. There were only eight.
“We’ve already searched up here. We have to comb the ground. The walkway is shattered, so you climb down here and start beneath the council building. We’re going to spread out from the Ivy Platform. Take these bandages for any wounded you find.”
“Yes, sir.” His shock still interfered with his ability to think. Letting his senior give him orders relieved Colbey in a way that it never had before.
“And keep your weapons ready! Kill anything you don’t recognize!” The older Guardian assumed Colbey was about to waste time asking questions, so added, “There’s no time for talk now! We came in from our patrols during the middle, but we don’t know what really happened, and we were here! After we find all the survivors, we’re going to hold a gathering to talk about it. You’ll know as much as we do then. For now, help.”
It sounded as good a plan of action as any. He set to work.
Over four-fifths of the walkways were gone. Colbey climbed down with his spikes. He spread out from the roots to search the nearby bodies for life.
Whatever killed them possessed raw power like he had never seen. In many cases, entire limbs were missing or ribs crushed, chests caved in. The dead faces of people he knew slowly pushed red-tinged anger through the shock and nausea. Who had done such a thing? He could guess possible reasons why, but this atrocity was a wholly evil crime! To wipe out an entire village? Was it the exotic creatures they protected? Maybe they had wanted the Euveas and the enormous supply of lumber in a single tree. But that thought made him shake his head at his own muddled thinking. In a kingdom already rich with forests, that was sheer foolery.
Or maybe, his mind whispered as he gazed at the pool, they were after that! Did they get it? He could not tell, and under the moment’s stress his thoughts were running wild with improbable scenarios. Colbey stopped musing since he could do nothing until he learned more. The living mattered the most.
Moving from body to body, jumping from root to root and wading out into waters that had once been piercingly clear, he finally found a survivor. He did not know her well. She was a craftswomen who made blankets or jewelry or candles. Unconscious, she bore a deep gash down her side from shoulder to waist.
Modesty hardly mattered at a time like this. He tore off the remnants of her shirt and under-shift. Colbey rinsed the torn rags in the water so he could clean the wound. Once it was as clean as he could make it, he bound it tightly.
Colbey was far from satisfied with the job. Her breasts interfered with his normal binding technique so he could not wrap tightly as he liked. He would rush her back. One of the women tending the wounded would make a better job of it.
When he reached the council tree’s base he realized he had overlooked a separate problem. He would never be able to free climb all the way to the platform bearing the weight of a person. Colbey swore to himself as he left her propped against a gnarled root.
He found one of the other searchers. The two salvaged rope lengths from a damaged maintenance building meant to service the walkways. They made a length long enough to reach the ground by tying these together. Colbey climbed back down and tied the end around the woman, then lashed her to his back with a shorter length.
With the second man supporting most of her weight by pulling from above, Colbey carried her up without any close calls. They quickly hustled her to the council building. Colbey resumed the hunt while his helper took the rope and left to find the remaining Guardians. The others might need extra help themselves.
Not long after, Colbey found Council Member Orlan, clinging to a root and barely clinging to his life.
* * * * *
“Do you know,” Orlan rasped while Colbey lashed him to his back in preparation for the climb to the council hall, “I was…thinking of you this afternoon…or was it yesterday? I’ve lost track of time.” His breathing was shallow and uneven, his voice a whisper Colbey would have been unable to distinguish had Orlan’s mouth been further than a few inches from his ear.
“Elder, you need rest. I’ll get you to the Healers as soon as possible.” Healers? Only by the barest definition. Everyone with Healing talent is dead! The magnitude of what had occurred crashed down on the young scout’s head worse with each realization.
“Colbey—” A hacking cough interrupted that lasted several moments. Colbey felt the elder’s chest heaving against his back. The old man labored for air. “While you were gone…did you learn of any who could have…could have done this?”
He felt his helper pull on the rope to take up the slack between them. This was far from the safest method to bring either himself or the victims up to the council building, but time worked against them and he would have to compensate for the odd weight distributions and tugging jerks with his climbing skill. Colbey gripped the handholds provided by the thick bark and said, “I did not learn anything about a force of men gathering, no. And Thomas said Adel did not recognize the invaders. She would have known anyone coming from the fringe.”
“From…from out past the…fringe then?” The council member seemed to be losing strength. Maybe he would pass out. That might be best, perhaps.
“I heard no rumors of such.”
“It’s strange…Colbey. I look around…there’s no bodies.” The old man must be passing into delirium. Colbey could see far too many bodies. He knew the memories would never leave him in peace. “I saw several of them fall…where are their bodies?”
“You mean the attackers?” Come to think of it, Colbey had only found the dead of his own people, scattered like flotsam on the shores of the Southern Sea. Surely the combined force of the Guardians, scouts and the villagers must have slain some of their foes! “You are right. I haven’t seen any foreign bodies. Only our people.”
“And the demons…I know a few…fell to the Guardians. I saw them fall…taking men with them.”
In moments he would pass out. Colbey felt glad of it. His skin had begun to crawl.
Orlan must be near delirious. His last words guaranteed it! And yet, looking around at the mass destruction, a terrible evil had been afoot here. He would make certain he spoke with Thomas later.
After he reached the top, he and the villager carried the council member back inside the building from which he had served his people for so many years.
* * * * *
The Guardians uncovered a cache of torches from another ruined storeroom and distributed them to the searchers while the light faded. All through the night Colbey worked by torchlight, crawling over roots, toppling wreckage aside, climbing to stranded buildings or searching out hidden places. In one such hideaway he remembered from his own childhood adventures, he discovered a pair of children, six years old and so terrified they had finally fallen asleep in each other’s arms from sheer exhaustion.
Calming them after he interrupted their slumber turned into a real test of his skills. Eventually he soothed th
em enough to bring them back to the council hall. The workers there were near the end of their endurance. They each suffered from wounds themselves. Ceryl, a matronly woman with graying hair, accepted the young ones. She immediately put them to work carrying supplies and changing bowls of fouled water with fresh.
Thomas lay there, passed out from exertion. His cloak and tunic were off. A second man worked to change the bandages Colbey had noticed before. The older Guardian had sustained an arcing gash down his side which curved across the top of his stomach. Any lower and he would have been disemboweled.
Whole and young, Colbey returned to his labors.
Dawn broke. He still sifted the wreckage for any faltering life. Colbey had been awake for an entire cycle of day and night, but he pushed on. His training provided him with techniques by which a tired man might find extra strength to continue.
With the words Councilor Orlan had passed to him in mind, he also searched for any signs of the invaders; broken weapons, torn bits of cloth, dead or wounded laying where they fell. Nothing. Absolutely nothing could be found and Colbey refused to believe it possible. There must be clues! He might believe they carried their wounded and dead away with them in accordance to whatever religion they followed, except it defied plausibility for a large group to fight without having at least a few pieces of equipment break in battle. As well, not a single arrow protruded from bark or wall. Colbey had found numerous arrows yet recognized every one as products from the village fletchers.
The sun rose higher. Noon arrived. He continued to work. Finally, while the sun disappeared behind the tree line a second time, Thomas called a halt. Every corner in the village and surrounding forest had been searched multiple times. Anyone surviving the attack by the unknown assailants had been found.
Of the entire village, hidden for generations upon generations within the forest’s depths, only forty-seven remained.
* * * * *
Piecing together what had happened turned out to be no easy task. No one still alive had either been present at the catastrophe’s start or been in the village’s southern end where the attack seemed to have initiated.