The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  Yennit tried to keep his face still. He didn’t want to give any sign that anything Lars said had affected him. Enaya was traveling with Bale Farrushaw? What had she gotten herself into?

  “You said the young man was the world’s most sought after criminal?” Yennit asked. “What did he do?”

  “I don’t actually know,” Lars responded, thoughtfully. “I’d never heard of him before yesterday. I’m told he’s a trival, probably very strong. The King has never been one to suffer threats to his power.” Lars suddenly laughed as though he’d thought of something funny. “Why don’t you ask King Desirmor, yourself? You’ll be seeing him in a few days, after all.”

  Yennit looked back down at his feet. He didn’t care to speak anymore. The more he learned about his granddaughter, the greater his anxiety would grow. It was better for him to know as little about her as possible.

  Instead, he thought of his wife. In a few days he would be dead and joining her in the heavens. Until then he would simply do his best to endure. The pain would be great, but the relief would be eternal.

  ********************************************************************

  “We have to go in there?” Cano asked in disbelief.

  They stood at the edge of a thick, dark forest, staring at the entrance of a thin trail. The trees were wide and tall, seemingly growing right on top of each other, leaving barely more than a sliver of space between the twisted gnarly trunks. As far as the eye could see, the line of trees stretched in both directions.

  Every intuitive sense in Cano’s wrinkled old body screamed ominous warnings to turn and flee. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t see more than a few trees deep into the trail. The darkness of the overhead canopy obscured every detail, leaving the eerie impression of a waiting presence, watching them expectantly. The forest seemed to have a pulse, and it felt wrong.

  “That’s the only way through,” Peters answered tersely.

  The youthful looking guardsman sat atop his tan destrier, flanked closely by the two men on horseback that had followed him from Yennit’s manor. Peters was on edge. He had been from the moment he’d killed Wasdin. His nervous eyes constantly scanned the horizon, vigilantly watching for threats.

  “Why can’t we just head north and go around it?” Cano fought for an alternative.

  “The forest runs right into the coast up north,” Mueller replied. “The only way around is to go south where it thins out, but that just takes us by the estate. This is the only passable trail.”

  “You’re out of yer damn mind. It’s already past noon. We’ll have to make camp in there. Heavens knows what manner of darkness will test us then,” Cano said.

  “Do you have a better idea?” Peters put in testily. “We’ve got an Imperial force at our back. Like it or not, it’s the forest or a squadron of Imperial troops with a few trivals. Take your pick.”

  Cano looked over his shoulder at Maehril who sat upon the back of her small piebald mare, with the same concealed veil of distress that had marked her face since they left the pond. She was wrestling with something disturbing and had no way or perhaps no desire to share her troubles with the group.

  “We’ve been in tough spots before,” Jerron reassured him.

  The heavy Massoniel teen sat on his blue gelding, the same horse he had ridden during their battle with the shraels, right at Maehril‘s side. The shifty looking horse still watched Cano with its same unnerving black gaze. Nothing had changed. Cano still felt uneasy around the beast and purposely kept his distance. There was just something off about that horse.

  His own horse was bothering him as well. He was riding a small red gelding, chosen for him by Westin. The beast seemed tame enough, but it tended to pass gas frequently. There had been a few instances on their trek across the countryside from the fishing hole, where he was certain he was going to suffocate. But, he supposed that a gassy horse was better than one that liked to bite.

  “Well, Maehril?” Cano asked, deciding to abide by whatever choice she made. “Are ya comfortable trying the forest?”

  Maehril looked at him and smiled fondly. She absently stroked her horse's neck as she surveyed the trail’s entrance. Her horse appeared to melt into her touch, its head reaching back as if to ask for more attention. After a short deliberation, she smiled shyly and shrugged.

  “I think she’s leaving it up to you,” Jerron translated.

  “Do ya think so?” Cano asked sarcastically.

  Jerron just grinned, delighting in the silent giggle he managed to get from Maehril. Those two were more and more often, having a little too much fun at his expense. In another life, he would have lost his temper over their subtle teases, but seeing her smile always put him at ease, even if she was laughing at him.

  “Well, daylights a wastin’. I don’t want to spend a minute longer in that place then we have to,” Cano said.

  “How fat are your waterskins, Peters?” Mueller asked, holding his own half full skin up for inspection.

  “Cressler filled a few extra just before we left,” Peters answered without taking his eyes away from the skyline.

  “I grabbed a few bread loaves, too,” Cressler added, pointing to a fat saddle bag resting on his horse's hind flank.

  Cressler looked scarcely older than Jerron. He was short and clean shaven and carried a polished short sword on his hip. Though he knew the young man had survived the attack on the manor, Cano still wondered how well he could use his weapon.

  The other guardsman, a middle aged man with a shaved scalp, looked more capable. His name was Hartsohn, and his hard, calculated eyes, and quiet disposition, reminded Cano of Mueller. There was a broad sword in his scabbard, and bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. Cano didn’t know for certain, but he guessed that Hartsohn was a former soldier.

  “Have any of you ever used this path before?” Mueller asked the guardsmen. Each man acknowledged their own ignorance. Mueller set his jaw grimly. “Neither have I. It's only by second hand tales and rumor that I know about it. We are walking in there blindly. Don’t lose your focus. Don’t let your guard down. Peters, I want you to take the rear with Hartsohn. Cressler, you’ll ride up front with me. We ride with swords drawn, men. There are rumors of things far worse than wolves and rovers in this forest. Be ready for anything.”

  “Whoa! Hold on a minute!” Cano shouted. “What’d ya mean by that?”

  Mueller fixed him with a hard, impatient glare. “It has been said that the trees come to life in these woods. The shadows are said to move on their own. Men who have traveled this trail, are said to have been driven mad by the spirits that haunt these woods. Believe me, Fishman, if there was another way, I would take it, but this is our best, perhaps, only chance to escape. Even as we speak, there is assuredly a fist of soldiers tracking our steps across the countryside. They may be here any minute. If we try our luck going south, they’ll overtake us by nightfall. The forest gives us a chance, dangerous though that chance may be. I don’t like this anymore than you, believe me.”

  Cano stared down at the entrance of the trail even more apprehensively than he had before. If it was at all possible, the forest appeared darker than it had only moments before. What were they getting themselves into?

  Mueller kicked his mount into motion, and Cressler quickly fell in behind him. Jerron went next, followed closely by Maehril, then Cano. Hartsohn and Peters took their positions in the back of the group.

  When Mueller reached the entrance, he paused briefly, looking over his shoulder at Maehril. Then he drew his sword and led his horse into the darkness of the trail. Cressler went in next, unable to ride beside his Captain. The trail was wide enough to allow only one rider at a time.

  Cano watched Jerron and Maehril trot carefully into the forest and kicked his own mount to follow as soon as it was clear for him to enter. His horse seemed as anxious about entering the forest as his rider. He paused, quivering slightly beneath Cano’s legs, before he cautiously followed the others into the woods. />
  Darkness seemed to envelope them. Only a few steps into the trail, the light all but disappeared. Thin rays of sunlight, breaking through sparse cracks in the branches and leaves, fell like vertical columns supporting the canopy above. The trees looked like thick lengths of rope, with their tightly wound trunks. There was scarcely any soil to find on the ground. The space between every wide, gnarly trunk was littered with visible extensions of roots. Walking through the forest would have been impossible without the smooth trail. Though it was thin, the path was manmade and cut with care. The surface was smooth and level, perfect footing for the horses.

  Once they were all on the trail and well under way, Cano felt the need to express a new concern. “How are we going to camp in this? Do ya expect us to sleep right in the trail?”

  Though Mueller never turned to face him, Cano could sense that his eyes were rolling. His tone relayed his irritation. “We’ll do what we must, Fishman. If we can’t find a decent clearing to camp in, then it may just be the trail.”

  Cano cursed under his breath. “Ya can see jest as well as I can. This forest is overgrown. There won’t be anywhere off the trail to camp.”

  “You’re probably right,” Mueller agreed.

  “Then what’s the point?” Cano asked.

  “Of what?”

  “Them soldiers can track us. They’ll know we took the trail. What's the difference if we’d jest gone south? They’re going to overtake us all the same,” Cano argued.

  This time it was Peters shouting out an answer from behind. The young guardsman was audibly irritated. “Once night comes, Fishman, you won’t be able to see your own hand if you were holding it right up in front of your ugly old face. They won’t be able to travel any better than we can. And if they do try to move in the darkness, they’ll need to use torches. We’ll know they’re coming.”

  “They won’t bother with the torches,” Hartsohn said. “They’ll camp, same as us, and wait for first light. Our best chance is to be ready to move at dawn.”

  Cano kept his mouth shut after that. With the thick canopy overhead, it already felt like twilight. Most of the ride he watched Maehril. She looked as nervous as he felt. Her eyes frequently searched the imposing wall of trees that lined either side of the trail. Her hands kept a tight grip on the reins of her horse.

  It had been some time into their journey, two hours Cano would’ve guessed, though without the sun as a guide, he couldn’t tell time accurately, when he began to notice the quiet. The forest was completely still. There was no wind to rustle the leaves. The ever present sound of random bird calls, or even the incessantly constant chirping of insects, that filled the air in any wooded area, was strangely missing. Each step of the horse's hooves echoed with an almost urgent intensity. Cano could clearly hear the steady breathing of his companions, none more noticeable than his own slightly wheezy exhalations. More and more as they rode deeper into the wood, Cano’s awareness of the quiet increased.

  He began to nervously search the trees, just as he’d witnessed Maehril doing each time he checked on her. Nothing had changed along the path. Even as deep as they had ridden, the trees maintained their appearance of unrelenting guardians, rigidly lining the trail.

  He found himself thinking about a conversation he’d shared with his wife, so many years before, about the nature of creation. It had been Cano’s contention, as a devout man of God, that the Creator was infallible, and therefore, beyond the realm of questioning. When a child grew ill and died it was a tragedy, but in Cano’s eyes, it was the will of God. If a storm came and ripped a town apart, destroying homes, farms, and leaving death in its wake, it was not the right of man to question its purpose. God’s will was beyond the capacity for man to understand. His wife and daughter had been killed. He could have forsaken the Creator, directing the rage he felt because of his misfortunes at her, but his faith required him to accept that whether he liked it or not, it was simply their time to go.

  There was darkness in the world, and though it was easy to wonder why God had allowed evil to inhabit her creation, it was not for Cano to question. As far as he was concerned, if the Creator wanted to allow some evil to exist, then so be it. It was just another way for the Creator to test a man’s morality, and for man to earn validation on his way to the afterlife.

  Ahtarah had a different point of view. She wondered why a God who created a world out of love, would allow darkness to exist in her creation. It didn’t make sense to her. She couldn’t just accept things she didn’t understand on faith alone. Ahtarah was always one to question everything, and she concluded that everyone was wrong. The darkness and evil that pervaded the world was a flaw beyond the Creator’s control. And because it wasn’t in God's original intentions, darkness was unpredictable and not subject to the same laws and principles that governed life. Evil, she had said that night, was like a wine stain on an otherwise perfectly white linen bed sheet. You could try to clean the sheet, but regardless of the method or the amount of scrubbing, that sheet could never truly come clean. The stain would always exist. If you looked hard enough, you could always find it.

  He only thought of that conversation because he was beginning to think that maybe Ahtarah was right. Looking at the forest and its underlying feeling of a pestilent force lurking between the twisted tree trunks, Cano could understand what she meant. There was definitely something unnatural about this place. Regardless of the rays of sun that forced their way through the thick canopy above, the whole forest felt as if it were devoid of light. The air itself felt stale and uneasy. It could have been his imagination, but Cano had never in his life felt so cut off from the light of day. He’d never felt so irrationally afraid.

  Why would the Creator make a place like this, he wondered? Why would she make creatures like Rovers, Borlicon, Vallrykans, or Goerra’s? There were so many things, when he actually thought about it, that didn’t fit into his vision of the Creator’s world. By the doctrine of faith he had been taught as a child and fervently prescribed to his entire life, God’s will was bound by love. Why tolerate the existence of evil?

  Perhaps Maehril was the answer. She had vehemently denied, several times, that she was the Creator made flesh as Cano had contended. But still, she literally seemed to be made of light. When dark creatures were near, she became a weapon destroying evil. Standing in her presence, he felt stronger, sharper, and more at peace than he could ever remember. His hearing was better. His eyesight was as precise as it had been when he was a teenager. These were effects that couldn’t be shrugged off as mere coincidence. Since she had come into his life, he had begun to question the very faith that had defined his life and sustained him when despair had nearly swept him away like a swell in the ocean.

  “I think this is the best we’re going to find,” Mueller announced.

  Cano hadn’t realized that the company had stopped. He must have been lost in his thoughts. He cursed himself, silently, as he looked around to see what Mueller was talking about. Just to his left, there was a small break in the trees, which led to a small clearing, large enough to accommodate the group and all of the horses.

  “I’d guess that we’ve got just over an hour until nightfall,” Hartsohn said from the rear.

  “That’s about what I’d guess as well,” Mueller agreed.

  “That’s a fair amount of wasted daylight,” Jerron said.

  “I don’t like it any more than you, but this is the first clearing we’ve come across since we entered this cursed place. We may not find another,” Mueller’s voice sounded grave.

  Cano studied the clearing. Something felt wrong. They had ridden through the forest for a few hours, and not once before had he noticed anything as welcoming as this clearing. It was perfectly round with soft green grass covering the ground like a blanket. A wall of leafless trees, barely taller than a grown man, surrounded the enclosure creating a buffer against the overgrown forest.

  Why here, he wondered? And how could that grass have grown so green and thick? The
re was no extra light shining down on the clearing. The canopy still covered the sky above, giving way to only a handful of thin, straight rays of sunlight.

  “I don’t like it,” he muttered.

  “You don’t like anything,” Peters huffed from behind.

  “What’s not to like, Cano?” Jerron asked, far more patiently than Peters.

  “It doesn’t feel right,” Cano answered. He looked over his shoulder at Maehril, hoping she felt the same way. She appeared tense, as she studied the clearing, but Cano couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t from whatever was already disturbing her.

  “Explain yourself, Fishman,” Mueller demanded.

  “There’s something wrong with this whole place. I’ve felt it from the moment we set foot on the trail. It’s like there’s something watching us. Something dark. Now we find this little clearing. Looks nice enough, sure. But doesn’t anyone else think it’s strange that the trees seem to be growing on top of each other everywhere else, but not in this little circle of grass? And what about that grass? I don’t see hardly a lick of light touching the ground in there, yet it’s as green and thick as the yard back at the manor,” Cano said.

  “Enough of this nonsense,” Peters growled. “We should be thanking the Creator for this blessing, not listening to the paranoid ramblings of this old coward.”

  Cano’s hand went for his blade, gripping the hilt and pulling it halfway out of its sheath. He’d had enough of the young soldier's disrespectful mockery.

  “Easy Cano,” Jerron cautioned.

  Cano paused and looked down at his weapon. The tip of the blade was still hidden in the sheath, but he could see the start of the blade. It struck him suddenly that the dagger wasn’t glowing. If there were any threats around, the weapon would be emanating a soft white light. Perhaps he was overreacting.