The Coin of Kenvard

by Joseph R. Lallo

  Deacon continued forward, heedless. He passed behind a tree but did not emerge from the other side. Myranda neither saw nor felt any sign that he had truly vanished. He was still very much in the valley with them. But somehow he was also impossibly far away. He may as well have leaped into a bottomless pit, still very much within the confines of this little hidden piece of the mountains but miles away and moving farther by the moment. The feelings were conflicting, confounding, and yet she knew that they were genuine. There was something very wrong with this ring of trees.

  Myn struck the ground beside her and held her ground.

  “You feel it too,” Myranda said.

  “What is it?” Myn muttered.

  “I don’t know… But I need to find out.”

  Myn curled a paw around Myranda to haul her away from the trees and close to her. “Do not,” Myn pleaded.

  The wind was whipping now. Ether was nearly here.

  “Listen. I don’t know what will happen to me, but Deacon has gone in there. If he can still be saved, I have to follow to save him. If he cannot be saved, I have to follow to stop him. Either way, I have no choice. Stay behind. Tell Ether what happened. Tell them to keep watch elsewhere. Tell them that the blue moon is the key. That is the moment all of this is heading toward. And in case it is dangerous, make certain no one else enters this ring of trees. One way or another, I’ll be back.”

  Myn’s jaw tightened. She raised her head, shut her eyes, and let Myranda go. Myranda gave her friend a pat on the leg and dashed into the circle of trees.

  Chapter 10

  The first steps between the trees sent a wave of vertigo through Myranda. She stumbled a bit but continued. Ten long strides. Twenty. After she’d taken fifty paces into the ring of trees, she’d yet to reach the opposite side of the ring. From the outside, the edges of the ring looked to be only a dozen or so paces apart, but no amount of running brought her any closer to the far side.

  Myranda stopped to catch her breath. She turned her head to see how far she’d gone. There should have been just two trees behind her, but now a thickening forest lay there. Hundreds of trees clustered more and more densely until their interlocking branches cast the ground in total darkness. She turned back and found the valley had been replaced with more forest, sprawling onward into a shadowy void.

  “What is this place?” Myranda breathed.

  Her eyes swept across the darkness as she listened. There was only silence. Even the howling wind had faded away. Then, a steady crunch of snow underfoot. She squinted in the direction of the sound. A shadowy figure stepped into the light of the clearing. He was old, with a short, well-kept white beard and a clean white blindfold across his eyes. His clothes were simple brown robes.

  “Welcome, Myranda,” he said. “It has been too long since we last spoke.”

  “Oriech…” she said. “Is this place your doing? Is this real? Or have you pulled me from the world to offer more cryptic advice?”

  “You ask many complex questions, Myranda. Is this place my doing? No. It has been here for as long as the valley has. To my knowledge none of the gods has taken credit for it, though I have my suspicions your patron is to blame. It has a mischief to it. Is it real? Not quite. But real enough to have consequences. And I did not bring you here, for advice or otherwise. You entered freely, which I am sorry to say carries a price.”

  “A price! Oriech, there are lives at stake. I am trying to stop Deacon before he does any more damage.”

  “On that point you can rest at ease. He will do no more damage for as long as he is here. Nothing he does here can affect the outside world, and he will leave this place only after he has paid the same price as you. Follow me, please.”

  Oriech turned and took a few steps. Myranda lingered.

  “Oriech, explain yourself,” she demanded. “I don’t have time for this.”

  He turned back. “You will leave this place precisely twenty-four hours from the moment you crossed the threshold. As will Deacon. That will place you mere seconds behind him. Until then, you have all the time in the world. Now follow. I will explain along the way.”

  He continued. Myranda reluctantly matched his pace.

  “We call this place the forest of Spirit Oak. All times here are one. If you have ever come to this place, you will always be in this place, even after you leave.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense by the rules that govern the rest of existence, but it is perfectly in keeping with this place. When you have spoken with me in the past, pulled aside from the world, you were pulled here. When I do not walk among you in the guise of a jingoistic man of the cloth, or a wise and put-upon old slave, or a grumpy curator in Territal’s archives, I am here.”

  “Why didn’t I know of this place?” she asked.

  “Because it isn’t for you. You were never supposed to come here. The way isn’t even supposed to be open to the living. It would appear Deacon’s tinkering has changed that.”

  “Who is it for, if not the living?”

  “The Perpetual War was not the only dire time this world will ever face. And, lest we forget, we have already lost a Chosen One. It was decreed that there should be a means to purify even the most tainted of Chosen.”

  “Purify… Then can you cure Deacon?”

  “We can. We can do most anything. But that will be his choice, not ours. All who choose to enter this place are tested. For each test you pass, no matter how long it takes, a single hour passes in the outside world. When you pass the final test, you reach the center of the forest and you are granted one request. Within certain limits and our own discretion, virtually any request can be granted, so long as it only applies to the one making the request. We will not change the world. We will only change you. For most, that request will be to leave the forest. You may make another request, but you will be forced to prove your way to the center again to be permitted to leave, at the cost of another day, and a far more strenuous trial.”

  As they walked, the darkness of the forest grew deeper. The crackle of ice and snow changed to the crunch of grass and leaves.

  “You are Chosen, and you are pure. Your tests will be mild. Those who have been badly tainted will face harsher tests and more of them. I suggest you take your time on them. Here, at least, you can have a respite from the weight you’ve taken upon yourself.”

  “Just get it over with,” Myranda said.

  “Very well. Your first test. Why did you enter this place?”

  “I entered this place because Deacon needs to be saved from himself, and the world needs to be saved from him.”

  He nodded. “Selfless. Devoted. A proper reason. You have passed your first test. Continue forward for your next test.”

  “How will I know I’ve found it?”

  “Everything here is a test, Myranda. Good luck to you.”

  “Do I need luck?”

  “This place was not meant for the living. You may. You’ll find out along the way, but for some tests, the consequences for failure could be dire.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “I do this for the same reason I do everything, Myranda. Because it is my purpose, and because I have no choice. Now, let us begin. Because you are pure, and because you have proved yourself time and time again, I will give you the only piece of guidance you should need. Just move forward. You’ll know when you are through.”

  #

  Myn stood, eyes trained on the ring of trees. Her nostrils flared. Her tongue flicked at the air. Every fiber of her being and every instinct and sense available to the formidable hunter scoured the valley for some semblance of the two humans she cared for above all others. All that remained of either of them was the fading scent of their trail as they’d entered.

  The first sound she heard beside the whistle of wind through the leaves of the terrible trees that took her friends away was the crackle of flame far above. She turned her e
yes to the sky. Ether’s fiery form dropped down from above.

  “Where are they? What has happened?” Ether demanded.

  “Myranda and Deacon are inside,” Myn said.

  “Inside where?”

  “The trees. They stepped between and were gone.”

  “And you did not follow? Come, quickly!” Ether said.

  Myn lashed her tail around to block Ether as she motioned to enter. “No. Myranda said to wait.”

  “She could be in need of our aid.”

  Myn’s expression hardened. “She said to wait. And there is more.”

  “What? What have you learned?”

  “Deacon will cast his spell during the blue moon.”

  “The blue moon. That is tomorrow night.” Ether looked aside. “Yes… The way things are worsening… it would make perfect sense if it aligned with the new moon. If something needs to be done about Deacon before then, and we know precisely where he is, we should follow him.”

  “Myranda said to wait,” Myn said.

  More wind whistled. A tiny, gleaming point darted down from the sky. Ayna buzzed to a stop beside the others.

  “We were summoned?” Ayna said.

  “Myranda is in the ring of trees, which has some manner of mystic significance. Deacon is there too. We now know that he has been preparing for the blue moon to cast whatever spell he is seeking to cast.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?!”

  “Myranda said wait,” Myn repeated.

  “I will not do something foolish simply because Myranda wants us to. I was given to believe there was a degree of urgency.”

  Ayna darted up to enter the ring of trees. Myn reared up to block her.

  The fairy gave a defiant look. “I am not afraid of dragons. One of my colleagues is a dragon and far more powerful than you. I intend to follow Myranda and solve this problem once and for all.”

  “Myranda. Said. Wait,” Myn stated, punctuating the final word with a curl of flame.

  Even once she’d learned a language besides that with which she was born, Myn had remained a creature of few words. But rhetoric tends to take on a different meaning depending upon the speaker. When a dragon speaks emphatically, it makes an impression.

  Ayna flitted back a bit. “How long do we wait?” the fairy asked.

  “Until she returns,” Myn said.

  The dragon settled down and trained her eyes on the ring of trees again. Ayna glanced at Ether uncertainly, then darted down and perched between Myn’s horns to grudgingly join the vigil.

  #

  Deacon paced through the forest. Eyes wide and crystal held high. Unlike Myranda, he’d not been met by a familiar figure when he had entered the place. He’d simply been treated to the odd and unexplained disappearance of the valley and appearance of an ever thickening forest for what felt like ages. When Oriech finally deemed the moment right, he came first as a voice.

  “I didn’t expect you to come this far, Deacon.”

  The wizard slowed and looked more warily about but didn’t stop his purposeful journey.

  “You knew what you would find here. That is reason enough not to enter,” Oriech’s disembodied voice remarked.

  “I knew of Gilliam’s teachings, and I theorized this was the place to which he had been referring. A place of power and trials. But Gilliam’s words could seldom be taken at face value,” Deacon said.

  “You can make that claim. But your mind and intentions are clear here. Perhaps you have convinced yourself of that fact, but I know the truth. You will be tested.”

  “I am no stranger to tests. How many shall I face?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “I see. I would have assumed five. That seems to be the number of this world. Five Chosen. Five tests.”

  “That would hardly be the first mistake you have made.”

  “Quite true. Mistakes are evidence of effort. If you aren’t making mistakes, you aren’t learning.” Deacon twitched and flinched. He felt a hot bolt of chaos curl through his spirit and stir his thoughts.

  “We speak a great deal of rules,” Oriech said. “Life is governed by such things. At a certain level, rules are all that matter. Rules form the game.”

  “And a wizard’s place is to learn the rules and utilize them to produce the desired effects.”

  “You are playing at a level that was never meant for you. You are attempting to rewrite the rules.”

  “Every game has flaws. We should not be prisoners to the mistakes made by those before us. Or above us.”

  Oriech stepped out of the woods ahead. “That you came here, as you are, is regrettable. Now this version of you, as you are, shall exist as a record within this place. Not the best face to put forward to history. And more to the point, not the best mind to tackle the tests I have for you. Fortunately, my service to fate has afforded me a bit of latitude. Hold still.”

  Deacon took a step back. “You cannot take the chaos away. Not yet. I need it.”

  “Not that you have any say in the matter at this moment, but I do not intend to cure you. I merely wish to render you stable enough to know that I am testing you and not some errant twist of a tumultuous mind.”

  Oriech touched the shoulder of the shifting, tainted arm. The struggle to keep it in shape eased. After a moment, Deacon found that the effort he had been expending to tame the affliction was unnecessary. It was as though his crown and ring had been returned. His restless mind was tamed, though very much still under the influence of the chaos to a diminished degree. His expression changed. The clarity that returned to his mind was unwelcome. It cast some of his recent acts and motivations in a stark light. He did not like what he saw.

  “You came here seeking contact with a fallen Chosen. You wished to sample that essence for your spell. Your spell has been devised to violate the laws set forth by the very beings responsible for your world. Suffice to say that is not a virtuous reason for entry. You have failed your first test.”

  Deacon rummaged in his bag and revealed the coin. He pressed the marked side of it to his palm.

  “You haven’t betrayed your world yet. Your crimes are of a different kind. The world is feeling the echoes of what you have yet to do. You have done something no wizard before has had the capacity or the inclination to even attempt. You have created a fixed point in history. An inevitability. There is nothing anyone can do to prevent what you’ve set out to do. All we can do is learn if there is enough wisdom and integrity left in you to solve the problem you will soon create.”

  Oriech paced ahead toward a clearing that had not been present moments earlier. “Your trials will be particularly difficult. That much I can assure you.”

  #

  Myranda stepped into the next clearing. In a life that had been defined by absurd and impossible events, she should have become accustomed to unexpected obstacles between herself and her goal. This forest was testing her patience. Deacon’s fate, and quite likely the fate of the world, hung in the balance. Yet she was being asked to prove her worth through puzzles and trials. Perhaps her time as first a duchess and then a queen had spoiled her somewhat, but she could feel her temper flaring more than it had in years.

  The clearing before her gradually populated with what would clearly be her next test. A wide river of icy water rippled through the forest ahead of her. At first glance, it looked entirely impassible. The flow was rapid, and there was no bridge in sight. A dense fog had rolled in across the water, shrouding everything more than a few yards from shore.

  “Move forward…” she muttered.

  Thus far the tests had been minor. Bits of forest that tried to turn her around. Dead ends with puzzles or riddles that would part the trees when solved. This was the first obstacle for which the proper course of action was not immediately clear.

  She paced along the shore, eyes scanning the hazy distance. The first clue of what was to be done came in the form of a stout rope strung a few feet above the
water. A vessel of sorts sat beneath it with a short tether connecting it to the rope via a loose loop. Unlike most of the ferries of this sort that she’d encountered, the vessel itself was barely larger than a one-person raft. It looked terribly rickety, but she imagined if it were sturdy and reliable, then this wouldn’t have been a test.

  Myranda stepped shakily onto the ferry. She shut her eyes and focused, but her magic refused to obey her. That was hardly a surprise. Myranda had imagined that her time here might mirror her experiences in the crystal arena, but the truth was much more frustrating. There, her magic was not only available to her, but enhanced. Here, the sorts of spells she could cast and the proficiency with which she could cast them varied from test to test. At the moment, she may as well have never learned a scrap of magic for all the good it was doing her.

  “Very well. At least the way forward is clear.”

  She secured her staff behind her back and hauled at the rope. Tug by tug she slid away from the shore. It was hard work. The current was quite strong, and sliding the loop along the rope required a tremendous amount of force. Throwing her weight against the rope caused the raft to shift about beneath her feet, constantly threatening to pitch her into the water or leave her dangling by the rope itself. She gritted her teeth and fell into a rhythm. Somewhere out there, Deacon was facing similar tests. If she wanted to reach him, she had to solve them just as he did.

  The rope creaked. The water splashed and dragged at the raft. Myranda tried to stay focused on the task, if only to keep her mind from dwelling upon what Deacon had done, what he was doing, and what might be happening beyond this place. The fog had swallowed the shore she’d left behind. She was entirely surrounded by gray mist. The far shore had yet to become visible. The isolation and disorientation wore upon her mind.