By Ways Unseen Page 15

  “Then your flame won’t light up the torch it’s burning in,” Kirrin replied. “Add too much, you’ve wasted fuel because it won’t even light.”

  “What about water?” Haydren asked.

  Kirrin gazed at him and blinked. “Um…”

  “Travelers in the forest don’t take water?” Haydren prodded.

  “Sure,” Kirrin said, sounding hurt. “They’re just not in there long enough to need more than they can carry. But I imagine there’s streams in the woods, still.”

  Pladt turned and laid a hand gently on Haydren’s arm. “So, I’ve been thinking about this whole plan…” he said quietly.

  “So how much is it for everything?” Geoffrey asked, cutting Pladt off.

  Kirrin shrugged. “Call it three hundred.”

  “Three hundred?” Haydren and Geoffrey chorused.

  “Fuel isn’t cheap,” Kirrin replied flatly. “Though you’re welcome to try the other shops.”

  “Oh, is that it?” Geoffrey asked. “As long as you can get away with it, then.”

  Kirrin’s hand flashed upward, and he slapped the rag onto the counter. “This forest threatens my home as well!” he thundered. “Do you really think I’m concerned with profits when no one can even buy anything?”

  “You said yourself fuel wasn’t cheap,” Haydren replied.

  Kirrin stared hard at him. “I’ve already received the shipment on credit; I’m not even paying the seller back with what I’m asking for it. So do you want my help or not?”

  Haydren blinked, and bowed his head. Geoffrey, too, found it difficult to look the shop owner in the eyes. Haydren glanced sideways at Pladt.

  “Pladt, do you—?”

  Pladt’s hand lifted, and a bag of coins arched toward Kirrin. It landed heavily in his opened palms, and he bounced it up and down a few times.

  “There’s more than three in here,” he said, glancing up at Pladt.

  “Is there?” Pladt asked innocently. “I’m pretty sure I counted out what you should need.”

  Kirrin weighed the bag in his hand a few more times, then tucked it in his belt. “Take what you need,” he said, gesturing to the shelves.

  After they thanked him, he returned to the back room, and the three took what items Kirrin had suggested. The sun was sinking over the tree-lined wall when they exited the shop. They returned to The Burrow, packing all their supplies into sacks they could sling on their shoulders. Haydren met Sarah as she was returning to her room.

  “We’re going with you, through the Woods,” he said. “We’ve already gotten supplies for the four of us.”

  “Very well.” She paused. “I saved your friend’s life, but I don’t actually know your names,” she admitted with a grin.

  “Haydren,” he replied. “The one you saved is Pladt, and the other is Geoffrey.”

  “Does he hate women, or just magic-users?” she asked quietly.

  “I have no idea who he hates,” Haydren replied. “But I believe he loves the God of All.”

  Sarah nodded once. “Magic-users, then, at the least. Thank you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  By pure accident, Haydren was sure, they were given a room with a direct view of the doomed wall. He watched as the sun lowered, its piercing rays destroying the malevolent forest for a time; but once the light fell behind the devouring leaves they leapt out in violent silhouette. For some reason, looking upon that scene, the frustration and despair Haydren had felt creeping upon him outside the inn washed over him now. How could one even remain standing in the face of such destruction? He could not imagine it, and the powerlessness he felt threatened to consume him. He shook his head and took a deep breath: his path was still laid before him, and all he could do was walk down it.

  But even as that irrevocable image flashed through his mind, he felt it was false, no matter how much he wished it to be true. But did he even wish for that, really? Would he give up choosing, to gain confidence? Could he not have both?

  He laid down, but did not sleep for some time.

  They met in the common room next morning. Haydren was glad to see Sarah had changed from her bright blue to modest and practical traveling leathers; well-made ones, at that. If the Forest was anything like he thought it would be, loose clothing would be quickly torn to shreds. They nodded short greetings, and went outside.

  Someone had spread the word - Haydren suspected Kirrin, though Pladt kept silent - that travelers were entering the woods, and when the four exited the strangely deserted tavern they saw the tattered remnants of the citizenry gathered to send them off. Haydren glanced at Geoffrey: Pladt was smiling as he squinted into the sun.

  “This is more like it,” Pladt said. “Just like in the plays.”

  They started for the gates, but the people turned them toward the west wall. “Derayus,” said a man – middle-aged Haydren guessed, with greasy black hair that pulled back to a short ponytail – who came up to them and shook each of their hands as they walked. “Something like the governor, but I’m not sure of what exactly. Thank you for taking this harrowing journey into the woods.”

  “We need to get to Frecksshire,” Haydren said simply. “We couldn’t see a better route.”

  “Of course, of course,” Derayus replied. “Well said. But while you’re in there, if you find anything—”

  “We will,” Haydren promised.

  “Well done, well done; thank you again.” Derayus paused as they continued walking. “Are you sending your horses anywhere?” he asked.

  Haydren bit his lip; he had forgotten them. Pladt gazed at him with wide eyes. “If you have anyone you can send to the Earl, to let him know what happened here, you may use the horses,” Haydren replied.

  “Just make sure they get back to Kerrik Grecce in Werine at some point,” Pladt said a little indignantly.

  “Brilliant. Well done!” Derayus exulted. He stopped and began returning to the crowd, caught himself, and strode back up to walk beside Haydren. He remained silently beaming the rest of the way to the wall.

  When they arrived, Haydren found himself at a dark hole under the wall where the beasts had evidently first broken through. “You haven’t covered it?” Haydren asked in surprise, looking down at the black mouth of the earth.

  “The beasts left, southward,” Derayus replied.

  “We heard,” Haydren muttered.

  “Well, they could have broken right back through anything we did to block it up. They bored through earth the first time.”

  Haydren glanced at the hole once more, then up; his breath suddenly caught in his throat as he glanced around. The wall of the castle towered imposingly over him, and above even that, the branches of the Northern Forest threatened to come down and consume not only him but the entire castle as well. To his left, a blackened spar leaned over, ready to fall and crush him and he would be powerless to prevent it. He looked down at the hole before him, as dark as the sun was bright, and all he could see was the gaping door of a shack with a mastiff hidden inside and Guntsen behind him saying he needn’t worry about anything anymore. The crowd pressed behind him, just as Guntsen had, ready to throw him into the hole for their own amusement and desperate salvation. But it was not they who pressed him, but he who must voluntarily crawl through the darkness and into the bowels of the Forest, and do it to escape the spar and the wall and the branches. He must throw himself in, and hope to be able to fight his way back out.

  He rubbed his chest as he thought again of Fūnik, far to the south: it would take a month, with the Forest always looming on one side and the eastern province on the other. A beast army would likely be waiting for them. And they would have to pass, announced, into Frecksshire. But if they made it through the Forest alive, would that not raise some eyebrows, at least? Haydren set his jaw and glanced up.

  “We’ll tie your packs,” Derayus said. “Take the rope, and pull everything through once you reach the other side. And good luck.”

  Pladt stood by and watched as Haydren lower
ed himself into the hole, then Geoffrey and Sarah. He came last, grasping the end of the rope. When he reached the bottom, he had to crawl on hands and knees through a tunnel. He could almost feel the weight of the wall above him, and prayed that it would not suddenly collapse.

  Ahead was pitch blackness, though he could hear the others scraping through the dirt ahead of them. “Why didn’t we bring a torch?” Haydren bellowed suddenly.

  “It is a straight shot through to the forest, Haydren,” Geoffrey replied. “Do we need one yet?”

  “It would be nice,” Haydren replied, his voice shaking a little.

  “Haydren,” Pladt called forward. “Are you okay?”

  Haydren growled. “Yeah, fine. Ow!”

  “What is it?” Geoffrey asked tensely.

  “I found the end of the tunnel,” Haydren replied. “Looks like we have to climb up and out; I can feel some sort of steps leading out, but I can’t see any light from above. They must have a cover on it.”

  Pladt continued to crawl forward, keeping his fist tight on the rope as he dragged it behind him. It went taught suddenly, ripping from his hand. He cursed quietly, feeling behind him for the end he had dropped. He found it, and pulled; he could feel the packs dragging through the tunnel behind him, and he hauled on the rope.

  “Pladt, are you there?” Geoffrey asked.

  “The rope is too short,” Pladt replied. “I’m pulling the packs through now.”

  “Well we’re almost out; come up when you’re done,” Geoffrey replied.

  Pladt glanced up, realizing suddenly that Geoffrey’s voice was coming from above him. He reached with his other hand, feeling the cool earthen step that was cut into the ground ahead of him.

  “Oh,” he said. “Okay.” He could discern no difference in shade from the walls to where the opening should be; he could not even see the outline of an opening.

  “And hurry up!” Haydren whispered desperately.

  Sarah’s voice floated gently down: “Haydren, what’s wrong?”

  Pladt hauled faster, till finally the packs bumped into his feet. Turning, and still with the loose end of the rope in his fist, he crawled up the steps. He could hear Haydren breathing heavily above him. Suddenly, when his hand sought the next step, it slammed down instead upon the firm ground of the forest floor. His companions’ breathing was next to him, and he could hear the faint washing of wind over treetops.

  But still he could see nothing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TURNS

  “You play with this man’s life!”

  “I said nothing to him.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I see Haydren is not alone in his darkness, then.”

  27 Tetsamon 1319 – Spring

  “Get a torch out, quick!” Haydren whispered hoarsely as soon as he heard Pladt’s hand thump against the ground.

  “Well hang on,” came the reply from the darkness. Haydren heard the packs bumping up the stairs, and small grunts of effort from Pladt.

  A hand laid against Haydren’s arm, and he swiped at it frantically, as at a moth fluttering suddenly in his ear. “Take it easy, Haydren,” Geoffrey’s voice said quietly. “We’ll be fine for now.”

  Haydren’s hand went to his sword, and he bobbed on the balls of his feet. The smell of cedar, though softer and sweeter, filled his flaring nostrils. He could hear Pladt wrestling with the packs and the rope, and then rummaging through one of their contents.

  “Aha,” Pladt said. Haydren could hear tin rattling, and in a few moments metal struck against metal. Sparks erupted suddenly, settling on a fuel-soaked ball of cloth that rested in the basket of a torch. The glow spread, but not far: Pladt’s triumphant face was lit, but the shadows of Geoffrey’s face gave him an eerily grotesque mask.

  Pladt lifted the torch from where he had thrust it into the ground and handed it to Haydren. Another scrape, and Pladt lit the second torch. The light surged, met the glow from Haydren’s torch, and shrank back. The four companions were now well-lit, though the forest off the path remained almost entirely cloaked. Pladt set up the final torches and lit them; the growth of vines and trees assaulting the west wall of Quaran could be seen faintly at the edge of the glow.

  Haydren turned to survey what could be seen in the light of the four torches. The stories he had heard growing up of the Northern Forest led him to envision a tangled, choked wood that must be hacked through with a blade; what lay before him, as far as his torch lit, was quite the opposite. If there existed a cathedral of earth and wood, it was here. The sanctuary floor of loose dirt spread beyond the torchlight, swept clean of undergrowth. Columns grew as spear-like tree-trunks, a measured four paces between each, supporting a formless ceiling too far overhead to see. Though he knew it was early morning outside, there was not so much as a pinpoint of light in the canopy above to prove it. Before him, the aisle of packed dirt ran as straight as any road carved by man.

  “We’ll have to walk close together,” Geoffrey said, raising his torch.

  “At least we came out on a trail,” Pladt said, sealing the pack and rising to his feet.

  “The beasts probably formed it,” Haydren replied. “When they came to assault the castle.”

  Pladt swallowed, forcing a grin. “They’re not still in here, right?”

  Geoffrey turned from surveying the path and eyeballed Pladt. “Maybe not them: probably others. We should be on our way.”

  Haydren nodded, and shouldered his pack. “I’ll take the lead; Geoffrey, take the rear since Pladt will not be as effective in close quarters.”

  Geoffrey’s eyes glistened as he flicked them toward Sarah; she watched Haydren with an eyebrow cocked, a silent question on her face.

  “Right,” Haydren said, twisting his mouth sideways. “Um…”

  “By all means, take the lead,” she said, gesturing forward. “I’ll walk in front of Pladt: fewer people to get in his way when creatures come from behind us.”

  “Do you think—?”

  “That they’ll see our torches before we see them?” she asked, a non-condemning smile on her face. “I would be certain of it. And these beasts are smart enough to attack from behind.”

  “Can’t you make magical light or something for us?” Pladt asked, peering into a gloom that already infected his mood.

  “I control air,” she replied. “Is light air?”

  “It’s in the air,” Pladt replied with a shrug.

  She smiled. “It’s not air.”

  “What about blowing the leaves off the top?” Pladt asked.

  Geoffrey growled. “Stop playing with what you don’t know, Pladt; our torches burn precious fuel.”

  With a deep breath, Haydren turned and peered into the void ahead; the light spread only a few steps before him, and glistened darkly off the tree-trunks only a little further than that. Grasping his sword firmly with his left hand, Haydren struck off.

  They had made it only a few hundred steps when Haydren encountered a path intersecting theirs. He paused at it, waiting for the others to come up beside him. He thrust his torch forward down each path; they ran, as near as he could tell, straight away to each side: the angle was a perfect cross. Haydren turned to his companions.

  “Straight through?” he asked. He received non-committal shrugs in return.

  As they walked, Haydren continued to glance side to side, peering into the depths of the blackness in an attempt to see something, anything, that might give him some information. What information he sought, he did not know; but he was already growing weary of the unending darkness.

  At the edge of his torchlight, another intersection came into view. He paused once again, and Sarah came up beside him.

  “Perhaps we should start marking these,” Haydren said, looking up and down the intersecting path; it was identical, and in fact could have been the exact same intersection they had passed before.

  “It can’t have curved so quickly, though.” The question was clear even in her statement.


  “A sharp curve, we may see,” Geoffrey replied. “But without walking further apart, a gradual curve will certainly go unnoticed.”

  Haydren pulled free his dagger, the red pitted metal catching the torchlight and reflecting its in shards across the ground. He glanced at it for a moment, then strode to the other side of the intersection and peeled two strips of bark from the tree, and laid them at its base in the shape of an arrow pointing down the path on which they traveled.

  Time slowed, and then seemed to stop; their feet found a rhythm, and the path circled below them; intersections rose, passed, and disappeared. When they were hungry, they ate; they grew tired, and slept. But they could not track the sun or moon, and they could not keep count of the paths that crossed their route: those seemed to come more slowly, or the company grew tired more swiftly – whichever it was, eventually an entire cycle would go by with no path but the one they trod.

  “There’s no life here,” Pladt said wearily one evening as they ate sausage and cheese, their chewing the only noise to be heard.

  “There are trees,” Haydren replied, though he knew what the archer meant; the trees did not have branches, and no breeze stirred them. There was no undergrowth, anywhere. No animals had been seen or heard since they entered the woods.

  “It’s not even that,” Pladt said, pausing in his meal to gaze blankly into the depths around them. “There’s something else not here, but I can’t place it.”

  Everyone else grew silent, final bites forgotten as they tried to sense what Pladt did. The rush of torches grew in their ears; Haydren rubbed his chin with a knuckle.

  “There’s no insects,” Sarah said quietly, and everyone blinked. She was looking at the torches, where no moths flittered. The tree trunks’ smooth bark showed no signs of borers; no spiderweb had pulled against their faces as they had walked.

  Pladt was the first to resume eating. “Good riddance,” he said, but his tone bespoke the unease they all felt.

  Their packs grew lighter, though the bulk of what diminished was precious water and fuel. Using Kirrin’s trick, the fuel dissipated slowly; but their water skins drained at an alarming rate.