by J C Maynard
“Don’t be out past ten.” said Mr. Bernoil. Calleneck nodded and headed out of the house and up the street.
The mail towers where some of the tallest buildings in the regular parts of the city. The Orchid was the nearest to Winterdove Lane and also the one which the Evertauri used. Some voice inside of him was guiding him toward it. Why the Evertauri mailbox? he thought.
Once at the circular tower, he walked up its central spiral staircase. Floor fourteen. He opened the door and stood outside on an open balcony lined with a stone railing and large columns that supported the next floor. Mailboxes covered the inner wall of the circle that wrapped around the staircase. Looking out across the balcony, he could see much of the city and the white Seirns glistening in the moonlight. Messenger birds occasionally flew into the balcony area and dropped a letter in a mailbox slot. These birds were the safest and most efficient way to send information. The birds flew hundreds of miles in days, and if the message couldn’t get to where it was supposed to, the birds shredded it in their talons.
Because the Evertauri primarily used the Network to transport information, their mailbox was not often used or checked. He knew the location of the mailbox because once Kishk the Trainer had assigned him to pick up a letter from a sorcerer in Eilland. Number 1431bn. President Madrick Nebelle had placed a security measure on the mailbox, similar to the entrances of the goblin Network. Like all the other compartments, the mailbox had a slot wide enough for letters to pass through, but small enough to prevent anyone from getting inside it. However, the Evertauri mailbox’s keyhole was fake, and therefore, could only be opened with a Taurimous. Calleneck scanned the floor to make sure he was alone. Like with the mirror and the tree, he formed a crimson flame in his hand and placed it on the mailbox, which, in turn, hummed and shimmered. He reached his hand out and it seemed to disappear into the metal. Once one’s Taurimous was placed on these ‘objects,’ their solid appearance vanished and one could pass through it like a ghost. He felt around the cold metal and placed his fingers on a single letter. He pulled it out and the metal shimmered back into its solid form.
To- Seirnkov, Cerebria, Orchid Mail Tower, Box 1431bn, Father
From — Aunestauna, Ferramoor, R.N.
R. N. he thought. Raelynn Nebelle. Calleneck furrowed his eyebrows, unable to remember why he thought to look for the letter in the first place, or if he even did. He seemed to recall talking with her in a tavern, but he couldn’t think of where or when. Something weird is going on in my head. Calleneck tried in vain to think of why he would have spoken to Raelynn recently. That’s impossible though . . . she’s been in Ferramoor for over a month. But I definitely saw her . . . I know I did.
He shook his head again, wondering if he was going mad. Put it back, he told himself. As he extended his hand toward the insert slit in the mailbox, a messenger bird screeched and dove for the letter, grabbing it in its talons. Calleneck ripped it back and shooed the bird, but the envelope was torn open and the letter inside had fallen out.
Calleneck looked around. No, no I- can’t read it. But as he picked it up, he couldn’t help but scan the first lines.
Dear Father,
I have searched through the Palace Library in its archives to see if what you said about mother is true. I think I’m on to something, and I may be close to finding the file that explains where she went. I don’t know when I will come back to Seirnkov and the Evertauri, but I think my time is better spent finding mother. I wrote another letter to Shonnar that explains what I’ve found so far. I haven’t received a response from him yet, but I hope both of you are doing well . . .
Stop reading! blurted out his subconscious, and Calleneck stuffed the note back into the letter, sealed the envelope’s rips and tears with his Taurimous, and slipped it back in the box, ashamed of reading it. But on the way home, he couldn’t stop the thoughts circling in his head. She’s searching for Mrs. Nebelle? And she still doesn’t know her brother is dead. I spoke with her recently. No, she’s in Ferramoor. I must be thinking of something else.
Calleneck continued to walk down the moonlit cobblestone streets of Seirnkov, back to his house on Winterdove Lane.
The Hollow
Chapter Seven
~Afternoon, September 2nd
Down beneath the canopy of the Endlebarr, Tayben and his army began their relocation to the northern front. When they packed up camp, Birg and Tayben left any chance of Gallien returning behind them; they donated his things to soldiers in need. The last days of summer were fading in the world around Endlebarr, and autumn would soon set in, but the enchanted leaves of Endlebarr remained green until winter.
Because snow would soon start to fall in the Taurbeir-Krons, the Southern pass would soon be impassable, therefore hindering Ferramish advances through the southeast quadrant of Endlebarr. While Xandria began to move battalions on the southern front north to counter Ferramish attacks, Tronum and his Council decided to pull back the offensive force in the South and focus those troops on defending the pass when Cerebrians could still pass through. Tayben’s battalion marched north to take post at the Great Gate of Cerebria. At the fall of the Empire and the secession of Cerebria, Xandria’s forces constructed a massive wall between two mountains in the Taurbeir-Krons. It was the only accessible pass by winter, and therefore, the only pass needing large scale defense.
Tayben trudged forward through the forest with his battalion with half closed eyes. When he lay his head down to rest on the forest floor, he could not forget the disturbing image of several nights prior. A dark mist, a man clad in black, a gust of wind, and it was gone. Again, Tayben played Fenlell’s words in his mind, that if one found himself thinking or seeing strange things, they should not burden the army with their lives. The forest’s cunning got Gallien lost . . . or killed. Both Tayben and Birg had accepted the fact that their friend would not return; whatever led him to leave camp must have been compelling. The battalion officers filed his disappearance as an off-battle death; no one could survive more than a few days alone in Endlebarr. Even if he fled, the journey to civilization would take weeks on foot. Gallien was gone. Tayben decided that the man he thought he saw in the mist was a hallucination, or at most, an animal that he mistook for a man. But that cold draft I felt three times that day: in the tree, after I dodged the spear, and outside the tent . . . No, it’s just the forest . . .
Horses with dark green blankets over their backs carried the soldiers’ armor, food, and essentials. Both animal and man trod through lush vegetation; on either side of them rose trees hundreds of feet tall. They were journeying into a deeper part of the dark forest. Far fewer bugs chirped here, and a heavy air seemed to compress the lungs of the soldiers; it was not a place for the claustrophobic.
As Tayben stepped over damp soil and moss, he put his free hand on his horse’s soft neck. Lost in thought, his mind wandered to disturbing images of fire. An awful feeling filled his gut, the feeling that he was doing something wrong, that something was a danger to him and the Cerebrian army. Images, like memories or a dream kept coursing through his head. Crimson fire and sparks filled his vision as the feeling in his stomach grew worse. Inside his head, something screamed, They’re trying to overthrow us from the inside!
Tayben froze, unaware of how that thought had entered his head. What the hell was that? he thought. What am I thinking? More fire filled his mind. Why can’t I get these memories out of my head?! Tayben’s body turned cold. Memories? I- I feel like these are memories. He felt like vomiting. What the hell is going on?
“Birg,” he said, “can you take my horse’s reins for a second?”
Birg nodded. “You don’t look so good, Tayben.”
Tayben tried to breathe. “I- I just got a really bad feeling that-” Tayben stopped as images of faces flashed through mind that he swore he knew. He felt claustrophobic, like he was in a cold, dark tunnel.
A worried look crossed Birg’s face. “That what?”
Tayben tried to force the images out of
his head. “That the government — Cerebria — is in danger . . .” Tayben’s breathing quickened. “I need to talk to the Generals.”
Up ahead, the officers rode on white stallions near the front of the brigade. Walking through the soldiers and cavalry, Tayben approached Fenlell and requested a discussion with him at the next stop.
“What’s the trouble soldier?” Captain Fenlell stood in front of him.
“Thank you for your time sir-”
“Get on with it, Tayben.” Fenlell flipped his hair back and folded his arms.
Tayben hesitated as the images of dark tunnels and fire swirled in his mind. “Are you aware of any rebellion groups in Cerebria?”
Fenlell furrowed his eyebrows. “Not at all. Should I?”
Tayben thought quickly. “Umm, no Sir. I- I was just thinking that we should be watching out for those, you know. Just something I was thinking about.”
Fenlell shook his head. “No need to worry Shae, our army has everything contained.”
“I just think we should be vigilant about-”
Fenlell raised his hand. “Shae, there is nothing out there.”
Tayben nodded. “Of course. Thank you for your time, Sir.” Tayben slowly walked back to Birg, composing himself. Everything will be fine . . . it’s just the forest putting these memories . . . no, images in my mind.
He returned and sat down next to Birg.
“Aye, what was that all ‘bout, Tayben?”
“Oh, it’s- it’s nothing.” said Tayben, lost in thought. “Sorry if I’ve been keeping you up at night lately. I just have a lot going through my head right now.”
“It’s no trouble.”
A blonde boy younger and smaller than Tayben walked up to them. “Are you Birg and Tayben?”
“Yes, can we help you?”
The boy shuffled his feet. “My name is Hasht, I’m in with the new group of soldiers; there was overflow so the officers told me to join your companionship, seeing as you are short one soldier.”
Tayben tried to smile to show welcome, but he didn’t like the idea of replacing Gallien.”Sure thing, sit down with us.”
The boy asked Tayben where he was from.
“I grew up in a little town called Woodshore,” said Tayben, “it’s on the north end of Lake Kiettosh, near Endgroth. It’s small . . . everyone knows everyone there.”
“What does your family do?” asked the boy.
“My father is a blacksmith; my mother helps out, but I have no siblings. So when recruiters came to our village asking for volunteers, I was the only person in my family who could fight.”
“Tayben’s the best spearman around.” said Birg.
The boy nodded in approval, asking Birg, “What about you?”
“My father’s running one of them docks on the North Sea, trading with —” His speech was cut off when a cold draft of air circled around the group and the fog that surrounded them swirled.
Tayben stood up and grabbed his spear from his horse. “Birg, are you seeing this too?”
The boy grabbed a knife. “What’s going on? It’s just a breeze.” Other soldiers seemed not to notice much, but a few horses started shuffling their back hooves.
“It’s not just a breeze.” Tayben looked out into the forest. “Stay with our horses,” he said to the boy. “Birg, let’s check it out.”
The blonde boy grabbed the horses’ reins. “What are you two doing? If you step away from camp you’ll never find your way back in this forest. It’ll eat you alive.”
Birg grabbed a longbow. “Don’t think we’re goin’ far.”
The two walked away from the stopped brigade, and made their way through the dew covered shrubs and leaves. Moss-covered vines hung between the massive trees, whose canopies blocked almost all sunlight, hundreds of feet above them. Daytime did not look much different than night; the green of the forest appeared more gray in the twilight. As they walked farther off the game trail the army was following, the fog settled and their bodies began to warm. They stopped under a tree with cage-like roots that grew above the ground.
Birg looked around. “Tayben, I really don’t think anyone is here. We need to go back.”
Tayben jammed his spear into the ground. “I just have a feeling that we aren’t alone. Don’t you feel strange?”
“Yes, but it’s the forest Tayben. Remember what Fenlell said? The forest is trying to drive us mad. Endlebarr’s full of strange things that we don’ know what they are. If we get lost, the battalion won’ wait for us. Once someone loses the troop, they don’ never come back; look what ‘appened to Gallien.”
The insects stopped buzzing, and the air grew cold. Both soldiers grabbed their weapons; Birg drew his bow. Tayben strained his eyes and couldn’t see anything through the fog.
“Tayben! In the tree!” yelled Birg.
Tayben looked up and saw a black figure dart like an arrow into the canopy.
“To hell with this Tayben, we have to go back. We’ll get lost if they leave.”
“No,” whispered Tayben “someone is still here, I can feel it.”
“Tayben-”
“Shhh!” Tayben stepped forward through ferns and wildflowers, his boots sank with each step over moss and black, wet soil; Birg stayed at the tree.
“Tha’s it, Tayben, I’m goin’ back with or without you!”
“I’ll follow you in a minute.” Tayben readjusted his grip on his spear. He knelt behind a mossy rock and looked into the dark forest. He heard Birg start to walk back to the brigade, which was no longer in earshot. He jumped when an owl screeched from a vine hundreds of feet above him. When he looked back down, a dark shadow darted from behind a tree then out of sight with incredible speed. Tayben picked up his spear and sprinted into the forest, where the shadow had gone.
Watery leaves and bendy branches slapped his face as he looked back, running clear underneath the twenty foot arch of a gigantic tree root, the foot of which was surrounded by more plants and mist. He danced between boulders and dodged through cages of tree roots, and looking to the side he saw a dark shadow disappear far up a gigantic tree. He stopped at a fallen tree trunk that was four times his height in width; it angled up and leaned on the tree where the figure had been, shooting up into the canopy.
Tayben took hold of the damp, rotting bark and pulled himself onto the trunk which cracked and peeled as he ran up the side of the fallen tree, ninety feet in the air. From this vantage point, he could see that the enormous branches of these trees weaved and wound like a system of streets and bridges in the canopy of the forest. Mist swirled ahead of him, and the air was cold. Almost. He ran forward on six-foot wide branches. He saw the dark shadow in the tree next to him, but when he scanned his surroundings, there was no way for him to get to the tree . . . unless I jump. Tayben lay on the branch and looked over the edge, nearly a hundred feet down to the forest floor. I must be going mad.
Tayben grabbed a thick vine that hung on an upper branch halfway between the trees, the gap he would have to swing across was nearly twenty yards. He saw another shadow dart around in the tree. Just don’t look down. Tayben spotted a branch slightly below his height where he would land; he sent his spear straight into the branch. After a few steps back, he ran forward and leaped off the tree.
His stomach plummeted as he shot through the air and his calloused hands held the vine so tightly his knuckles turned white. The vine suddenly jerked to the side. Tayben looked up — the vine caught on a branch. He began spiraling around the tree, getting closer and closer until his body smacked into the side of the massive trunk like a bird hitting a window. With over sixty feet still below him, Tayben lost his grip and began sliding down the vine. His hands burned as slivers jammed into his flesh. Tayben cursed as the vine ended and his body slammed into a branch below and bounced off. The world spun around him as he searched for something he could catch; he spotted a small branch as he fell and caught it; the momentum of his body tore at his shoulders. After just a few seconds, the br
anch snapped and he descended toward the forest floor. His mind went blank as he hit the lowest trees, the branches cut his body and spun him like a ragdoll.
Tayben tried opening his eyes — one was cut and the blood obscured his vision. He lay on the forest floor on top of several ferns that his body flattened. No air was filling his lungs, he felt as if he was suffocating. One of his ribs was broken, and convulsions of his lungs sent sharp pains to his brain. As soon as he lifted his head, he turned to the side and vomited. Blood pooled on the ground; he saw that his uniform was shredded to pieces and his body was scraped and cut everywhere. An enormous gash ran from his shoulder to his thigh, his right forearm was bent and bleeding — broken. He groaned and tried to stand up, but immediately lost his balance and fell down.
Panic spread through his mind — he couldn’t remember from which direction he had come, it all looked the same. Moreover, he couldn’t walk. I’ve lost the troop. He screamed for Birg for minutes, but heard no reply. Grabbing a bush for support he successfully stood onto his feet and began stumbling forward, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His only weapon hung a hundred feet above him, stuck in the tree on which he had planned on landing.
He wandered for several hours, grabbing his chest and trying to walk upright. His body told him to rest, but he had to find the battalion. Each step was a hill, each ravine or slope was a mountain. He limped miles in what he thought was the direction of the troop. After coming to a patch of red mushrooms that he had already passed, he finally sat down and leaned against a tree root. I’m going in circles!
