by Aaron Hubble
He wasn’t sure which one of those options would be worse.
At the end of the tenth night of travel they saw the forest for the first time. The early morning light gave them a glimpse of what lay a full night’s walk ahead of them. Maltoki led his umbaku up next to Calier and stopped.
“Sho’el Forest: beautiful trees and terrifying creatures guaranteed to keep every child awake at night.”
Calier continued to look toward the forest. “If I could think of a better way, I would gladly take it. If we go around the forest either way it will add weeks onto our travel time.” He pulled the old compass, the one his grandfather had given him, from his pocket. “This is the quickest way and the path where we face the least chance of being seen is straight through the forest.”
Maltoki’s umbaku tossed its head, and he patted its neck. “They say the forest is so big and the trees so thick that when the night stalkers attack you, no one can hear you scream. That’s fortunate for us, because we wouldn’t want the invaders to find us after we’ve been attacked.”
Calier shot Maltoki a sharp look.
“What? Just trying to lighten the mood,” said Maltoki, shrugging.
“And failing miserably, I might add.”
“Alright, I’ll try to be more positive.” He smiled wide. “See, this is me being more positive.” He urged his umbaku forward and into the trees where they would be spending the day.
Calier gazed at the forest one more time and prayed he wasn’t leading them into even greater danger than what they’d left behind.
****
Both moons were full and the sky was clear and crisp. Zonatu cast silver light on the rippling grass while its little brother Zonatuwa hung behind it, shining an angry red light on the travelers.
They had begun traveling after darkness fell on the grasslands of Aereas, just as they had every evening. However, unlike previous nights, Calier felt restless and couldn’t pinpoint the source of his unrest. He figured it was the looming travel through the forest that had him worked up, but he also didn’t like the fact they were now being forced to make this last part of the journey in the open. The trees along the river had given way to a wide flood plain and the grass went all the way to the river. The sky felt big and open, and he felt conspicuous and defenseless.
Ibris walked beside him. “You look nervous, Professor.”
“Hard not to be in this situation. Between the moons and the lack of cover, I feel like I’ve walked out on stage without any clothes on.”
Laughing heartily, Ibris said, “Have faith. We’ve made it this far. I think our luck is going to hold out until we reach that cave of yours.”
They walked in silence for a while and then Calier looked at Ibris. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing by heading through the forest?”
“I don’t see how we have much of a choice. Your plan is sound. We all know what’s in the forest, but a lot of us are armed in some way now. We found several crossbows and a regular bow in the debris of the village, and you have that over-sized knife.” Ibris gestured toward the short sword hanging at Calier’s waist. “By the way, do you even know how to use that thing?”
“No, but I’ve read a lot of books about swords.”
Ibris laughed again. “Well, thank goodness. I’d hate to think you were carrying around a dangerous weapon without knowing how to use it.”
“Ibris?” Rohab’s voice came from behind them. “Ibris, will you come back here, please? I could use some help with your sons.”
“Uh-oh. They’re only ever ‘my’ sons when they’re misbehaving. By your leave, Professor.” Ibris mocked a bow.
“Please, go rescue your wife.”
Ibris slowed and stopped his umbaku while his wife caught up to him. Calier had grown rather fond of Ibris. He was a man who could take an idea and organize people to accomplish a goal. Which was good, because organization was not Calier’s strength. He was more of a big picture planner, able to see the end, but not really sure how to get there. Which was interesting, given his chosen field of study happened to be history. Perhaps looking into the past had sharpened his ability to see the wisest course of action. The study of what had already happened was littered with the consequences of hastily chosen and poorly thought out actions. The very last thing he wanted was for one of his decisions to make them another example of a people who didn’t use the common sense given them before they acted.
The grass swished and rustled on his left and a figure flashed by him. Emura turned and waved to him as she urged Chan’ti forward. He’d been right, those two had become inseparable. The girl and her steed. There had been several moments of panic once when they couldn’t find Emura right away, until someone began looking among the umbaku. There she had been, curled up next to Chan’ti, soaking up the animal’s warmth and affection. He wondered if somewhere in Emura’s heritage there were umbaku ranchers. It just seemed the love for those creatures was in her blood. There was no fear, no trepidation; she seemed most comfortable around the animals. It was a joy to watch her and Chan’ti together. It almost made Calier forget what had been happening around him.
“They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?”
Berit walked on his right now.
“Hey, there, where did you come from?” Calier asked.
“I’ve been walking with Rohab, but the boys were starting to drive me nuts. They were constantly bickering. Too much time together, I guess,” Berit said.
A cool night breeze rippled the tall grass. Like the ocean, the waves moved, searching for a distant shore.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Berit.
“Good. Better than I have the whole trip. I gave up my seat on the umbaku today to see how much walking I can tolerate. So far, so good.”
“Glad to hear it. I would tell you not to overdo it, but I’m pretty sure you’re not going to listen to me. But just in case, this is me telling you to not overdo it.”
“Yes, ab’ba,” Berit said in a somewhat sarcastic tone.
He smiled at her use of the term for fatherly endearment. She had begun using it several days ago as he constantly checked on her and asked her how she was feeling. He was okay with the name; in fact he was quite honored. He had always wanted children, and he couldn’t think of a better daughter to have than Berit.
“What’s your father going to say when he hears you calling me that?”
She slipped her arm through his. “He’ll say thank you for taking care of his daughter when he could not. Besides, I don’t think it hurts at all to have two men who look after you like an ab’ba.”
“No, I don’t suppose it hurts at all.” It was nice to get glimpses of what Berit must have been like before the world blew up. She was often withdrawn and quiet, trying to hide her tears, but there were times, like this, when the clouds covering her life parted and the effervescent young woman of a lifetime ago peeked through. He had the feeling she could light up a room.
“I see you’ve chosen to wear the bracelet,” he said.
She nodded and was quiet for a minute. “In my mind we were already married, so I thought I would honor Winnet by being his wife for a little while. At least until we reach the cave. Then maybe I’ll put it back in the box for another day.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
She looked at him thoughtfully and then turned to look back out across the grassland.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking,” Berit mused.
“If you have something to say, I’m listening. It’s not as if I have anything better to do.”
She hesitated and then, as if she was unable to contain herself any longer, said, “Why is an attractive, successful older man like you not married?”
“Who says I wasn’t married?”
“Oh. I just assumed.”
He sighed. “I’m not now, but I was once.”
He offered up no more information. At his side he could almost see Berit wriggling in her desire to know m
ore. It was kind of fun watching her try to work up the courage to ask for more. Finally, after several minutes she cracked.
“Okay, spill it, Professor. I need to know more.”
“Who says I want to tell the story?”
“Please…” she begged.
“Alright.” The smile faded from his face and a look of somber reflectiveness replaced it. “Let’s just say I understand what you’re going through from personal experience.”
Berit stopped, her arm pulling on his. “You lost your wife?”
Calier nodded and then they began walking again as he started his story. “A long time ago, it seems like a lifetime ago now, I had a wife named Halom and she was beautiful. She had long black hair, with the darkest red you’ve ever seen running from her temples to the ends of those locks. We met at a very young age and before I left for the university, I told her I would be back to marry her if she promised to wait for me. She did, and in the second year of working as a maintenance man at the university, after I had failed all my classes, we married and she moved to the city with me.”
He laughed. “We were so poor, but we had so much fun. The apartment we lived in was a hole in the wall, but Halom made it a home. There was no money to do anything so we just took walks around the city and explored. Professor Donru, the teacher who took me under his wing, and his wife invited us to dinner often. They lived just outside the city. His wife loved umbaku and they raised and bred several of the animals. Halom fell in love with the creatures. When I saw the look on Emura’s face when Chan’ti laid its head on her shoulder, I saw Halom again.
“I had just graduated and accepted the offer to stay on in a teaching and research position when we found out Halom was sick. It was a rare genetic condition. It often lies dormant for a person’s entire life. Most people never know they have a potentially fatal disease encoded in their genes. It typically never manifests into full-blown sickness. Halom wasn’t so fortunate. She deteriorated very quickly and died within six months of finding out she was sick.”
“Oh, Calier, I’m so sorry. That’s why you didn’t mention it before.”
“Hardest thing I’ve ever had to get through. For a while I just poured myself into my work. The strategy kept my despair behind a dam for a time, but I always had to come home to an empty apartment. Large cracks started appearing in the armor I had put around myself, and I finally had to take a leave of absence from the university. It was either that or break down in front of one of my classes. I needed to get away from my life and deal with the feelings tearing me apart, so I found an isolated lodge on the north shore of the Great Lake and spent two months dealing with the death of my olam’ani. The best thing I ever did was open up to someone else about my sorrow. The counselor became a true friend, and he’s why I can function normally today.”
They walked on in silence, watching the gently swaying grass dancing under the silver light of Zonatu. “When I see you trying to figure out how to go on, I feel the pain all over again. I figure it must be different for every person, but it’s something that must be dealt with.”
Berit wiped tears away from her eyes. “I just want him back. And if I can’t have him back, I want to forget him.”
“You can’t forget him. He’s a part of you, just like Halom was and is still a part of me. He’ll be the first thing you think of in the morning and the last thing you think of at night for a very long time. Eventually, he’ll be the second thing you think of and that’s when life starts to move out of the deep despair you feel right now. Unfortunately for you, the loss of Winnet isn’t the only thing you’re dealing with. I don’t know how to advise you on dealing with it all. But as I’ve said, I’m here for you, Maltoki’s here for you, and Rohab is here for you. Don’t bottle it up.”
Berit nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you again.”
“No, thank you. It’s been awhile since I thought about those good times with Halom. I should do it more often.”
“Yes, you should.”
She slipped her arm into his again and they continued on toward the forest. The moons were high overhead now. In that moment, that peaceful bliss, it was easy for Calier to forget what they were walking toward.
The trees loomed before him and he watched Maltoki and several others step into the ominous darkness of those boughs. The forest seemed to swallow them like a hungry animal. He was overreacting, but there were so many stories of men and women who had never come out of this place. Looking at Berit, he saw she was also staring into the trees.
He squeezed her hand. “Ready?”
A weak smile flashed across her face. “Ready.”
Hand in hand, they stepped from one world into another.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Calier had been to Sho’el Forest a couple of times, always remaining in the periphery and never going very far into the trees. Despite the fact the forest wanted to eat you alive, it was one of the most beautiful places one could ever hope to lay eyes on. Mighty trees soared into the sky, their silver bark smooth and rippled with hints of pink and green. A thick canopy of green and red leaves obscured the sky.
The Aerean cities collectively employed a group of professional hunters whose job it was to patrol a designated ring extending roughly a mile into the forest around its perimeter. The hunters kept the predators out of the ring employing varying methods, not excluding deadly force, so people could visit the forest. It was too beautiful of a place to keep hidden. The rest of Sho’el, the vast reaches of the wooded wonderland, was left to the animals. If someone chose to go into those parts, they chose to do it at their own risk. Every year there were those who did not come back from a trip into the deeper parts of Sho’el.
For all those reasons, it was the safest place from the people who were now hunting them.
What an ironic turn. Sho’el a safe place to hide, thought Calier.
The canopy blotted out almost all of the light from the twin moons. The darkness was such an intense contrast from the moonlit grassland it felt like stepping from a brightly lit room into a windowless closet.
Calier held his hand up in front of his face and wiggled his fingers. He just barely caught the movement. For the first time since leaving the farm, the people ignited their hand lamps to see where they were going.
Twenty-five yards into the forest something strong grabbed his ankle and Calier stumbled to his knees. Heart racing, mind imaging every vile creature descending upon him to feast on his flesh, Calier swung his light toward his foot and saw a root protruding from the ground. He exhaled a long breath and smiled to himself.
Maltoki extended a hand and pulled him to his feet. “Take a little more care, Professor. A lame ankle would slow you down. You know what happens to the weakest and lame among the herd, right?”
“Nice. Your empathy is heartwarming.”
Calier caught the flash of a grin in the glow of his light. Maltoki looked up. “Everybody is having trouble staying upright. We don’t even know if we’re on a trail or not.”
Dusting himself off, Calier motioned for his student to follow. “Let’s go talk to Ibris. It may be wise to wait until morning to keep traveling.”
The two men worked their way back along the line until they found Ibris walking beside the two umbaku carrying his children and Rohab. The umbaku were agitated, snorting and whistling. Calier took one of the lead ropes from Ibris. It was hard enough controlling one nervous umbaku, let alone two.
“Whoa, there, big fella.” He ran his hand up the animal’s shoulder and through the curly hair on the long neck. “It’s going to be alright. Just settle down.”
The animal stopped pulling against the lead, but continued to emit the nervous whistle.
Ibris looked at him thankfully. “I was looking for Emura. A song from her seems to be just the thing to calm them. You seem to have the touch as well.”
“Not quite like her, but I’ve been around these critters enough to know what they need.” Calier stroked the beast for sev
eral more moments and spoke calm and low to the creature before turning back to Ibris.
“I think we need to stop for the night, Ibris. I’ve stumbled, and everyone else is having a hard time walking as well. The umbaku are agitated, and we don’t know where the trail starts. We should stop before someone gets hurt or an umbaku bolts with our supplies.”
Ibris looked thoughtful in the light of Calier’s lamp. He scratched his chin, which he often did when contemplating important decisions.
“You make a valid point, but I worry about traveling in the daylight.”
Calier motioned to the canopy. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there’s no moonlight getting through the trees. It may be worth the risk, at least trying it out for a day or two. A ship would be hard pressed to see us through the trees. It’s just too dangerous with so little light and not just from stumbling. I’m afraid we might run into some scary critters if we keep walking in the dark.”
“Hmm…” Ibris patted the umbaku while considering Calier’s words. “Okay. That makes sense. Let’s stop everyone and make camp. Maltoki, can you run up the line and let Denar know we’re stopping?”
“You got it, boss.” Maltoki disappeared into the night. Ibris turned back to Calier and fixed him with a serious look.
“When everyone is settled, I want to talk to you.”
Calier studied the man’s face. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“I’d rather we talked about it quietly before the rest of the group knows.”
“Understood,” Calier replied.
Once everyone had stopped, they formed a tight protective circle. Denar and Ibris conferred and decided a fire was a necessary risk. While it increased their chances of being seen by a passing ship, not having a fire would almost guarantee suffering from a night stalker attack. Bormar and his teenage son Anoki, were able to scavenge enough dry wood to start a fire. The people dropped wearily within its blessed heat, letting the warmth chase away the chill and damp of the forest night. The umbaku were kept close. They demurely folded their legs under them and rested their long necks on the ground. The animals seemed to know safety could be found within the small circle of light cast by the fire.
