“Comforting, isn’t it?” said Endrick.
“That’s enough of your quips, Endrick,” chided Krom. “The Mauwik will not hurt us. They are friends of your father, Skylar. They hate Tarus. The Mauwik have few direct dealings with the world outside their forest. Yet, they are aware of the state of the empire. Shrewd and skillful people, they are able to traverse the forest unseen and unheard. They will be watching us the moment we step foot into their realm.”
“And it’s a bit unnerving,” added Endrick. “They’re a bit overprotective of those trees. My advice—don’t touch anything.”
Endrick raised one eyebrow and nodded as if to seal his warning, then turned and plodded on ahead.
Never before had Skylar beheld anything as magnificent as the trees of the Gray Forest. They were immense. So much so that he felt as if he were entering a land of giants. Each one was as big around as ten of the largest trees from the forest they had traveled for the past several days. And there was no end to their height. Standing at the base of one of them, Skylar looked straight up its towering trunk, spiked with green boughs, and it seemed to stretch on for leagues.
The companions entered the forest in silence, slowing their pace so that they scarcely moved at all. Something about the forest inspired a sort of reverence, like stepping onto sacred ground. The trees stood like sentinels, tall and alert, guarding some secret treasure.
Deeper into the enchanted forest they walked. The morning and early afternoon passed away calmly. Skylar began to wonder if the Mauwik weren’t really part of some fable. There was no sign of any inhabitants in the forest.
“The Mauwik live up there,” said Grim, appearing noiselessly at Skylar’s side, as he was wont to do. He pointed at the green ceiling that was the mesh of tree limbs above them.
Skylar looked up but saw nothing.
“You won’t see them,” said Grim, reading the confusion on Skylar’s face. “They’re too high up, shielded by the dense growth of tree boughs.”
“Why do they live up there? Surely it would be easier to live on the ground.”
“For safety. Men have lusted after these trees for centuries, desiring to use their wood as lumber. Many have tried to eradicate the Mauwik. All attempts have failed. The Mauwik are too resourceful.”
“But how are we supposed to seek their aid if they’re all the way up there?”
Grim chuckled softly. “You shall see, my prince. You shall see.”
From in front of them, Endrick looked over his shoulder and added, “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
The remainder of the afternoon they spent forging their way deeper and deeper into the Gray Forest. Skylar neither saw nor heard sign of anyone else in the forest. Indeed, he perceived little sign of any living creatures. It was as though the entire forest had retreated into hiding at the arrival of five strange men from the outside world.
At dusk Krom ordered a halt.
“We’ll rest and wait here. There’s little use in traveling farther. No one will follow us this deep, so it’s safe to build a fire. Endrick, you and Skylar collect firewood. And remember,” he added sternly, “only pick dead wood—whatever you can find on the forest floor.”
“Personally,” said Endrick as they walked away from the encampment, “I’d rather burn my own cloak that risk upsetting one of the Mauwik.”
The blaze of the fire felt warm and comfortable against the chilly night air. Skylar pulled his cloak tight and held his hands up to the heat. It was colder in the Gray Forest than it had been in the other woods. Skylar felt certain of that. The fire made up for it, though.
All five of the companions sat around the fire, propped against a tree or bed roll, staring into the depths of the dancing fire, all lost in thought. They had eaten better than they had for several days. Grim had caught a few rabbits the day before. And they were finally able to cook them. With full bellies and weary limbs, drowsiness quickly set in. Skylar nodded-off several times while watching the leaping flames and listening to their pop and sizzle.
After a time, Lasseter stood up and stretched his back. His cloak parted, caught by a sudden breeze, and Skylar noticed the glint of the sword hanging from his side. In the toil of their journey since leaving the village, he had forgotten about the weapons his uncle and these men carried. Now his curiosity renewed.
“I’ll keep the first watch,” said Lasseter. “One of us ought to be awake when the Mauwik decide to show up.”
“I don’t think—”
“Uncle, why do you carry a sword?” blurted out Skylar, cutting off Krom unintentionally. He hadn’t intended it, but the question sounded more accusatory than merely quizzical.
Both Krom and Lasseter turned their eyes on him. Neither spoke. They seemed to be considering how to respond, or perhaps whether to respond at all.
“Why do all of you carry swords?” said Skylar, emboldened by their silence.
“We carry swords, Skylar,” said Krom, “to protect you—as you witnessed in the village.”
“Why not carry blasters? Surely they offer more protection than a sword.”
“Little good they did those soldiers,” said Lasseter.
“The blasters,” added Krom, “are inventions of that same menacing coward who hunts for you like a bloodthirsty wolf. Morvath.”
Skylar shivered involuntarily. The darkness which surrounded them crept in closer.
“Created by a coward to achieve wicked purposes, it is a weapon only of evil. True hearts and true blades are the only weapons we carry.”
Krom said no more on the matter and Skylar dared not pursue it further.
“No,” said Krom to Lasseter, lightening the previous heavy tone in his voice. “A watch won’t be necessary. I suspect the forest guardians will visit us shortly. They are watching us now, I believe. How many are there, Grim?”
The reticent companion slowly lifted his gaze from the fire.
“Half a dozen,” he replied so laconically that Skylar wondered at him.
Skylar shifted uneasily on the ground, discomfited at the thought of these mysterious tree-dwellers lurking nearby in the black cloud of night.
Lasseter reacted without surprise, nodded, then left the group to grab another log for the fire. Endrick was the only one other than Skylar who seemed at all alarmed by Grim’s assertion.
“Half a dozen!” cried Endrick. “Why so many? If they would just politely invite us up into their tree-houses, I’d be happy to oblige. But the way they go about it...”
Endrick broke off, shaking his head and threw a twig into the fire. The flames popped, rose a little higher, dancing lively. Suddenly, the roaring flames died, plunging the companions into impenetrable darkness.
It happened so quickly, Skylar did not at first realize what had happened. Before he could gather his wits or even cry out, something seized him from behind, a gunnysack thrust over his head. He tried to break free, but whatever it was held him fast. The thing moved rapidly, carrying him away from the others.
Within moments, he felt himself lifted off the ground, ascending as quickly as if he were flying his jetwing. He could see nothing. The upward motion stopped with a jerk. He strained his ears for any sound that would give him a clue of what was happening.
The pause only lasted a second, before he felt the thing that held him rock back, then hurtle him forward.
Skylar panicked. Nothing held him. He was flying through air, free falling headlong. Falling.
His stomach clenched hard as a stone, and his heart stopped.
With a jolt, his fall stopped. Something had snatched him from the air. Scarcely had his fall been arrested, however, before this other being launched him back into the air.
Flying.
Falling.
Caught.
The pattern repeated for what felt like an hour. The motion made Skylar nauseous.
Flying.
Falling.
Caught.
The unseen life form held him. Skylar felt himself
swiftly moved along. Whatever or whoever held him was running. Then the thing halted and set Skylar on his feet. Roughly, the sack covering his head was removed. Pale torchlight filled his eyes, which immediately took stock of his surroundings.
He stood on a platform fashioned from tree branches, joined together by ropes and vines. The platform spanned the gap between the trunks of two massive trees. A hut, with a conical-shaped, thatched roof occupied the far side of the platform, against the side of one tree. Torches lined the perimeter. Similar lights burned above them, higher up in the trees and surrounding them in all directions, all flanking the sides of platforms and huts. Each platform varied in size. Some carried entire clusters of huts, others only one or two. Wooden planks and ropes formed walkways suspended from one platform to the next. An occasional spiral staircase ran the circumference of a tree. It was a city among the trees.
Skylar’s wrists were bound together with coarse rope. He wondered when his captor had had time to bind them. He no longer struggled. His captors seemed to possess strength far exceeding his own. And to his relief, Grim and Lasseter were on the platform with him, likewise bound and guarded. Neither Lasseter nor Grim said anything to him, but Grim nodded at him reassuringly.
A short while later, Krom was hauled up, calm as ever.
These must be the Mauwik, Skylar thought. He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected them to look like. Little green men with hands for feet? Something entirely unlike a man? Whatever he’d imagined, it was wrong. The Mauwik were just like any other man. They were all unusually tall, with fair skin, dark hair worn tied back. In the dim torchlight, one could scarcely discern the color of their eyes. They were garbed in animal skins: jerkins and skirts made from strips of the same material. Their feet were unshod. A quiver of red-fletched arrows hung from their backs. Animal skin bands circled their wrists and forearms.
Skylar heard the gruff voice before he saw its owner.
“Put me down already! I can walk from here.”
It was Endrick, and he didn’t sound pleased at being manhandled by the Mauwik. “You fellows sure know how to welcome friends.”
The stout figure of Endrick stumbled onto the platform, next to Skylar. The Mauwik holding him removed the sack from Endrick’s head.
“Thank you!” cried Endrick.
The Mauwik, despite Endrick’s outburst, remained as mute as stones and stood just as still.
“Charming fellows, these Mauwik,” said Endrick out of the corner of his mouth. “Charming. One of these days they’re going to drop me playing that acrobatic game of theirs. And I don’t think it will be an accident.”
A stirring came from the opposite end of the platform. A large Mauwik stepped out of the hut and eyed the companions. His appearance was much the same as their guards. But his hair was gray, his face darker and lined with age, his stature diminished, a mere relic of a once powerful body. A pendant of an intricately-carved green stone hung from his neck. Encircling his head was a band of leather.
One of the younger Mauwik approached him obsequiously, bowing his head. The two exchanged a few words which Skylar could not understand. The old Mauwik nodded slowly and returned his gaze to the companions.
“You have trespassed on our forest,” said the old Mauwik in a voice that was full of strength and pride. “We do not allow Landdwellers to enter here. The penalty for doing so is death.”
The old Mauwik spoke with such cold finality that Skylar’s heart froze. Perhaps Krom had been wrong; the Mauwiks would not show them any deference. Oh, why had they come here? Why wasn’t he back home on Haladras with his mother? With Kendyl? Kindor and the docks? His belief that there even was such a person as Morvath, much less that he was after him, dispersed like sand in the wind.
“Who are you?” asked the old Mauwik. “And why have you been so bold, or foolish, as to enter our realm?”
The old Mauwik folded his arms, waiting for an answer. Krom stepped forward and dropped to one knee.
“We come seeking thine aid, Chief Orthunk. Our need is dire. We willfully put ourselves at your mercy.”
Krom’s words were full of reverence. The old chief eyed the kneeling Krom with interest.
“Seeking our aid?” replied Chief Orthunk, as though in disbelief. “What aid? Who are you to come to us and petition favors?”
“You know me as Krom.”
Orthunk’s face showed a flash of surprise, yet he retained his stern countenance.
“That is a name well known to us. Rise and come nearer. I must prove this with my own eyes.”
Krom did as the chief bade him. The chief signaled to one of his servants, who quickly brought a torch and held it closer to Krom’s face.
“My eyes are not what they once were.”
For several moments, the chief studied Krom, his eyes narrowed, distrust written on his face. Slowly his gaze relaxed and a hint of a smile formed on his lips.
“Krom,” he said, placing his hands on Krom’s shoulders. “Many seasons have passed since last we parted. Your eyes tell of much hardship and grief. I would hear of your journeys, but I judge that you come not to seek refuge, nor to tarry.”
“Indeed, my noble chief. I would not ask refuge of you and thus bring trouble upon you. No, haste is our ally.”
“Trouble?” scoffed Orthunk. “What trouble? We fear no outsider. Let whoever troubles you come and find. He shall learn that the arrows of the Mauwik are as true as their hearts.”
“I know well your courage and valor, my chief. Our plight is grave. I can summarize all our troubles in one word: Morvath.”
The chief took a step back, as if the name had struck him in the chest.
“These are dark tidings, Krom,” he said. “Dark tidings in dark times.”
“Yes, my chief. But daylight always conquers the night.”
Krom turned and pointed to Skylar.
“There,” he said. “There is our morning light. Prince Korbyn Ducädese, only son of King Athylian, true heir to the throne of Alhderon.”
Skylar felt an odd tingling sensation run through as Krom pronounced these words. Orthunk fixed his gaze on Skylar and slowly walked toward him. As the chief approached, Skylar felt as though the old man were reading into the depths of his soul, searching his mind with his torch-lit eyes. After what felt like hours, the chief broke off his probe. A touch of sadness mixed with solemnity was in his eyes now.
“You father was a great man. A great king. I’m sorry you never knew him.”
Then the chief turned back to Krom.
“Your cause shall not be hindered by me. What would you ask of my people?”
Krom answered quietly. “We wish to ferjar.”
THIRTEEN
“FERJAR.” CHIEF ORTHUNK repeated the word to himself like one who’s between sleeping and has just woken from a disturbing dream. “No Landdweller has ever been permitted to ferjar. Not even in the days of Athylian, nor his father, when we had more dealings with the Outside.”
Orthunk turned his back to the companions and paced toward his hut, his head bowed in thought. After several minutes, he stopped, still facing away from them.
“Which planet?” he asked quietly.
“Allega,” replied Krom.
The old chief shook his head emphatically.
“Impossible...impossible,” he replied, turning and pointing toward the tree-shrouded sky. “The stars will not allow it. You come too late in the season for Allega. Fenorra, yes. Not Allega.”
Krom cast a thoughtful glance at Lasseter and the others before turning back to Orthunk. “If it must be so. You will grant this favor, then?”
The old chief nodded slowly.
They were led by the chief up one of the many spiral staircases that coiled around the trees like snakes. Orthunk’s guards had returned the companions their things, which in their hasty and unexpected departure from camp had been left lying on the ground. Skylar looked down into the abyss of darkness below and wondered how high up they were. Hundreds of m
eters, perhaps. The thought made him shift closer to the tree, away from the edge of the stairs. Encumbered as he was by his pack and satchel, he would have little chance of catching himself should he lose his balance.
They ascended the stairs until they left the light of the city’s torches below them and Skylar’s legs began to tire. Still they climbed. At last they could scarcely go any higher. The slate gray sky began to emerge above them. They were coming to the top of the forest.
The staircase led them through a small opening in a platform sitting near the pinnacle of the tree. It was a much smaller platform than the one they had first been brought to, circular in shape. What remained of the tree’s top pierced through the center of the platform like a tall dark man with a pointed cap.
“Only one may ferjar at a time,” explained Orthunk. “A forewarning: the man whose soul possesses too much darkness cannot pass; for the light will destroy it and the man die.”
The word ferjar, as yet, meant nothing to Skylar. Orthunk’s initial reaction to Krom’s mention of it had made Skylar uneasy. Now he felt utterly afraid.
The man whose soul possesses too much darkness... Skylar repeated Orthunk’s words in his mind. What’s going to happen?
Despite his apprehensions, Skylar remained silent as Orthunk continued to give further instructions.
“The first to go must stand there,” he said, indicating a circle near the platform’s center, “and look directly up into the heavens. Once you have found Naaros among the stars, fix your gaze upon it; free your mind and heart of earthly shackles; and you shall find yourself coursing through space on a beam of light.”
“Coursing through space!” exclaimed Skylar involuntarily.
“Yes, little prince,” said Orthunk. “What did you expect?”
“But that’s impossible. We have no means of propulsion. Nor apparatus for breathing.”
The chief laughed softly.
“Do not fear, little prince. You shall understand better than I can tell you. It is the nature of the light to reveal what is hidden.”
This reassurance from Orthunk did little to convince Skylar that they weren’t all mad. Not wanting to seem cowardly, however, he asked no more questions. The other companions looked as calm as the Haladrian desert on a breezeless morning.
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