Through the Dark Wood

by Geno Allen

  When Zam finished, he packed up what little food was left and moved on. The beast remained. At nightfall the creature’s attack resumed… to no avail. Its quarry was gone, miles away, taking a well-deserved rest out of the reach of evil things.

  Several more days passed and Zam’s spirits improved, as did the weather. One glorious morning, as the sun broke over the mountains, he moved with renewed vigor. Something wonderful would happen this day. He would reach the crest of the farthest in a range of hills he used to glimpse on clear days back home.

  This hill was farther from home than Sandrey, which was more to the east, and Zam had no knowledge of what lay beyond. It had long been the most distant point he could imagine traveling to. He’d always thought the likelihood of traveling so great a distance was somewhat akin to making his way to the moon. Now here he was working his way up the side of that very hill. He couldn't help but smile. I've almost reached the moon.

  A few hours later he reached the crest. It was nearly noon. He breathed in the crisp, clean air. It felt like freedom. He looked out over a small valley split in the middle by a large river. There was only one way to cross: a stone bridge set in the middle of a quaint little town right in the middle the valley.

  “People,” he said quietly. He'd been traveling for nearly two weeks, and although he was accustomed to lonely times, lonely times away from home in inhospitable woods seemed bleak to Zam in a way he’d never known—which made the possibility of human contact quite appealing.

  He made his way quickly down the slope. Just beyond the bridge was a large inn with smoke pouring from the chimney. He imagined he caught the scent of something delicious cooking inside. The inn acted as centerpiece on the march from some larger place to another place presumably more important. Here the people lived simple lives, except for the travelers whose horses and carriages could be easily distinguished from the locals. A large-ish crowd, some poor and others of seemingly high stature, gathered outside the inn awaiting the chime of the dinner bell.

  As Zam approached, he spied some children playing near a stream that trickled down the hill to meet the river. Not far from them, an elderly man sat against a small, ruggedly built shelter, watching the children—a broadsword resting on his lap. He twirled the sword in lackadaisical circles.

  As Zam got closer to the children the elderly man took note of him and the lackadaisical spinning of the sword stopped, a firm grasp replacing it. The children had yet to notice Zam, so once he was within earshot he called out. “Good day to you!”

  The children froze, then turned to see Zam approaching and ran to the shelter.

  The elderly man stood slowly, the tip of the sword in the dirt as if a walking stick rather than a sword. He was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers with high leather boots. His white hair shone bright in the sunlight. He nodded to Zam and something in his eyes belied the weakness his actions implied.

  “And good day to you too, Stranger.” The man hunched over slightly as if trying to stand comfortably. “What brings you to our little shire?” His tone was pleasant enough, but his look was mistrusting.

  Zam approached, choosing to match the man’s tone. “I am on a quest. I’ve been traveling for nearly two weeks and your town is the first I’ve come across since I set out.”

  “A quest? To where are you traveling?” The skepticism the old man obviously felt crept into his voice.

  Zam figured it couldn’t hurt to tell. “That’s just it, Sir. I don’t know the aim of my quest. Merely that I was directed to set out and the quest would find me... I think.” He knew he wasn’t making much sense but he figured honesty would serve him better than pretense.

  The old man shifted his weight again, but did not actually put it on the sword. “Hmm... a treasure seeker no doubt, but where is your sword, boy? How can you seek treasure without a sword?”

  Zam half chuckled at how ridiculous that must seem. “I was simply told to take this staff and a book that was given to me. I don’t own a sword. And as far as treasure goes, it would be nice to find, but I’m not specifically seeking it.” Zam smiled at the thought and continued. “Truly, Sir, I have yet to determine what my quest is. I was simply told to go north, so north I came.”

  The old man looked hard into Zam’s eyes and perceived he was an honest soul. “You don’t have a lie in you, do you, Boy?” He straightened up, flipped his sword into the air, caught it by the hilt, and sheathed it. With all pretense of weakness gone, the old man smiled. “Welcome to Rivertowne. Boring name, I know. Name’s Jacob Galwen Dorria. Townspeople and friends call me Galwen. I own the inn you were spying as you approached. These are my grandchildren.” He glanced toward the children, the elder of whom had crept to the door of the shelter. “It’s all right. This one is safe. Come on out.”

  Each child came out and bowed in succession as Galwen introduced them. “This is Dorrin, age thirteen; Keerin, eleven; the twins, Laise and Tannis, both ten; Rheen, eight; Keer, seven, and....” The last was an adorable little girl with auburn colored hair and piercing green eyes. She came shyly out then curtsied, wearing an odd expression as she looked at Zam.

  “... this little one's name is Tearis.”

  “I’m six.” she said, gazing at him with a smile.

  Galwen passed a quizzical look from her to Zam. “She doesn’t often speak to strangers, Master…?”

  Zam realized it was a question. “Zam. Uh… Windwater.”

  “Well, Master Zam Uh Windwater,” Galwen said with a good-natured smile, making the children snicker. “You say you’ve been traveling for many days… perhaps you could use a room?”

  “Yes!” Zam said with more zeal than he intended. “A warm place to sleep and a bed would make this day as good a day as I had hoped it would be.”

  “Very well.” A smile added wrinkles to Galwen’s face. “Then… you do have money, eh?”

  Zam chuckled and held up a few coins.

  Galwen nodded. “Good, good. Wouldn’t want to give you the wrong impression of my establishment. Children, follow.” He picked up Tearis and ruffled Dorrin's sandy brown hair as he passed.

  Galwen and the children led Zam down the slope. Soon they reached the River’s Edge, an aptly named inn, as it sat only a short distance from the edge of the river.

  Upon showing Zam to his room Galwen said, “I have a good feeling about you, Lad. Perhaps you’ll find the aim of your quest here.” He eyed Zam with a questioning look. “We’ll be having supper shortly. Don’t be late if you want to eat. My patrons don’t have the best manners. When the dinner bell rings, be ready.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  After Galwen left, Zam sat on the bed. Not very soft, but definitely better than the rocks and twigs I've been calling my bed these last few weeks. He opened his book, leaned back on the bed and began to read, but his body had other plans and he fell fast asleep.

  He woke to the sound of the supper bell and was up and out in a moment. Two maids were serving food to several patrons and already there were only a few seats left. Zam grabbed one nearest the door, which set him also nearest the bar.

  A young woman dropped a plate in front of him. “There you go, Love.” She stood a little too close and her smile was a little too friendly. It made Zam uncomfortable.

  A dumpy looking man at the bar called after her. “You don’t look at me ‘at way anymore, Reena. What’s ’is pup got ‘at I aint got?”

  “I never looked at you that way, Mort!” she called back, and shot Zam one more overfriendly look as she walked back to the kitchen. Mort scowled at Zam.

  The man next to him spoke up. “Don’t worry ‘bout Mort here. He knows he’s too old for Reena, but I tell you what: watch out for ‘er. She’s pretty, but she aint got your best interest at heart... if you follow me.”

  Zam thanked him for the warning, and Mort just kept on scowling.

  Just then a tall, gentlemanly looking fellow took the seat next to Zam, and Mort and his companion began referring
to him in such polite ways as “Fancy Pants,” “Your grace,” and “Oh most esteemed one.” Zam wondered at the man’s patience.

  He must have read Zam’s thoughts because a moment later he struck up a conversation. “You have to consider the source of comments like that. It is likely the stubby one was drunk before the sun reached its peak, and will probably pass out before the moon is halfway to its. My name is Phillip Dorgair. And yours?”

  Mort was still spouting what Zam would have called fighting words. “Zam Windwater. You are a patient man.”

  Phillip smiled. “It pays to be patient in my line of work.”

  “Oh… what do you do?”

  “I’m the innkeeper.”

  Zam frowned. “I thought Galwen was the innkeeper.”

  “Oh, he likes to tell people that. I let him work here some of the time. It helps him feed all those grandchildren.”

  Zam noticed that Mort and his companion had gone silent. A quick glance to the side informed him why. They were now intently watching Zam and Phillip. Something brushed against Zam’s side and when he turned back Phillip was standing.

  “I apologize. I must see to some of the other patrons.”

  Zam instinctively reached to his side and found his coin purse missing. “Hey! Phillip!”

  Phillip kept walking toward the door.

  Zam stood to give chase, but Mort and his fellow were already there in his way.

  “‘Ey boy… you aint finished yer supper yet. Where you off to?”

  Zam couldn't pay for his room without that money. Then it struck him. “My book is in that purse!” He tried to move around them. “Gentlemen, please. I must–”

  “Gen’lmen?” Mort scoffed. “You ‘ear that, Randec? ‘Is pup jus' called us gen’lmen. Them’s is fighting words if I ever ‘eard any.”

  Mort drew his sword and Randec said, “Where’s your sword, Boy? A cloak, a staff, and a purse with a book? Well, I don’t see no purse now, but really... that’s no way to go on a journey. How you ‘spect to protect yourself ‘gainst dangerous ruffians?” Mort started jabbing his sword at Zam.

  Another voice joined in. “He makes a good point, Lad.” A sword struck Mort’s and swung around flipping it into the air, disarming him. As Mort’s blade came down, Galwen caught it by its hilt and handed it to Zam, who was still trying to catch up to what had just happened.

  The old innkeeper’s tone was calm, but intense. “I told the three of you if you caused any more trouble in my inn I’d beat you so you’d remember it. But, as my grandchildren are here and watching, the thrashing I have in mind will have to wait for another day. Now get out. And never cross through my door again.”

  Randec took a frightened step back, and Galwen scowled at him. “You can pick up Phillip on your way out. He’s lying unconscious in the hall.”

  Galwen tossed Zam’s purse back to him, and Mort stepped toward the old innkeeper. “But ‘at’s my sword! I paid a pretty penny for it!”

  Placing his blade alongside Mort’s throat, Galwen calmly said, “Be glad, Mort, that your sword is all I’m taking.” The tone of voice and stern look—not to mention the sword lingering so near to his jugular—made Mort pale.

  “Fine… never was much of a sword anyway.” He shouted, “Keep it!” then he and Randec exited. Zam could hear them fumbling in the hall, trying to carry Phillip out.

  Galwen turned back to Zam. “Perhaps it would be best if you dined with my family this evening. You really never have been anywhere or done anything, have you?”

  Zam shook his head, embarrassed.

  Galwen gave him a fatherly look. “Well, we all start somewhere, Lad. You will need my help… but later. Now we eat.”

  A new thought struck Zam as he looked around the dining hall at all the people. This adventure thing is going to be difficult.

  As they entered the family's private dining room Galwen introduced his remaining family members. “Zam Windwater, may I introduce my late son’s wife, Molly, and my daughter Barea.” They both greeted him warmly, as did the children who awaited their grandfather to begin the meal. Zam was ushered to a seat across from Molly with Tearis and Dorrin on either side. Molly was a beautiful woman. Her amber hair—laced through with the lightest hint of gray—was bound in a kerchief that brought out brilliant flecks of blue in her eyes. Her smile was warm and motherly. Zam liked her instantly.

  Galwen took his seat at the head of the table. “This is my family. I assure you none here will pick your purse.”

  Dorrin shook his head and spoke, presumably out of turn. “If Raine were here she wouldn’t have let you fall prey to those thieving fools. Reena doesn’t care what goes on.”

  Molly’s expression turned instantly sorrowful.

  “Dorrin!” Galwen said—his voice raised not so much in anger as in shock. “We do not speak of such things.” He shifted his gaze, indicating the effect the statement had on Molly.

  Dorrin cringed. “I am so sorry, Aunt Molly. I wasn’t thinking.”

  She half-smiled. “It is well, Dorrin.” She brightened a bit. “And you are correct. She would not have tolerated such things.”

  Zam eyed the whole scene curiously. It seemed every member of the family had been shaken by Dorrin’s remark. Heaviness had fallen over the table. All the while little Tearis continued to stare at Zam with an expression he had yet to figure out.

  Molly could read the curiosity in Zam’s face and felt it impolite to leave their new friend in the dark. With a bittersweet smile, she said, “Raine is the name of my daughter, my only child. She used to work in Reena’s place, and no traveler need worry, for though she was gentle, she could be fierce when needed.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Molly looked off as if remembering and stifling emotion. “It is a sorrow that starts in beauty. Raine was graced with a gift… she could heal the sick and the injured. Never did we think to hide her gift because so many in Rivertowne benefited from it, but word spread beyond our little border. Not long after, the steward of this region, Lord Neereth, came with his soldiers requiring a ‘one-time tax.’”

  Galwen interjected. “No doubt unauthorized by the king.”

  Molly nodded and continued. “It was a sum greater than the inn’s worth. Even more than we could have earned in a week of years. My husband, Tolwyn, had long since been conscripted as a soldier and was lost to us, so there was no way to pay.” She shook her head sadly. “But, it was a ruse. There was no tax. If there was, we were the only family who paid it. It was simply an excuse to claim a member of our family… my daughter… as a slave. Raine was taken from us to serve the steward in Knighton.”

  Zam’s heart grew heavy with the hearing.

  Galwen continued the tale. “I set my dear friend Darik in charge of the inn and my family so I could inquire in person as to my granddaughter’s welfare. When I found her, she was living in the lord's keep and being treated very well, almost as a royal for the great services she rendered the Steward. She wrote to us at every chance and we received letters often. We thought–” His voice broke and he swallowed hard to keep back emotion. “I thought she was not at risk of harm, but when Lord Neereth’s son was injured attacking an innocent man, the steward discovered that Raine cannot heal at will. It must be inspired.”

  Molly concluded. “Lord Neereth’s son died, and Raine was sold as a common slave. It’s been two years with no knowledge of her whereabouts, and we fear for her.”

  Zam felt for them. “I am sorry for you all. Such a heavy loss… I–” he choked back an unexpected emotion that rose within him. Here he saw a family that deeply loved, and who had lost a piece of themselves. What must it be like to be a part of such a family…? … How selfish a thought, Zam. This family is grieved. “I apologize. I am overcome with sorrow for you.” Zam looked at Molly. “And for your daughter Raine.”

  Molly took a deep breath and looked at Zam. “Elyon will decide in mine and my daughter’s life.”

  The family raised their cups
at that, and Galwen said, “Indeed.”

  The others agreed. “Indeed.”

  Zam sat bewildered at the mention of that name. This family knows Elyon? He looked at them in wonder. I don’t actually know Elyon, yet it was he who set me on this quest. He wanted to ask questions, but felt foolish to do so at such a time.

  Molly offered a wan smile. “Let us speak of lighter things for now. Zam, have you traveled far?”

  “I have.” He thought better of it. “Well, farther than I ever have before. Until a few weeks ago I was a shepherd.”

  Barea asked, with a jovial smile, “And what are you now?”

  “To be honest, Ma’am, I don’t know yet.”

  Tearis chimed in with a whimsical tone that matched her gaze. “Yes you do, Zam.” And that was all. She went back to gazing at him, whimsically.

  Galwen chimed in, “He’s an adventurer. Look, Zam, you even have you a sword now.”

  Zam smiled at that, and Dorrin piped up again. “But does he know how to use it? I could teach him, Grandfather. That would be fun.” A good-natured but impish grin crossed his face.

  The other children moaned at the suggestion, and Galwen said, “Now, Dorrin, your methods of teaching seem to rely solely on showing off your skill with a blade, and never giving a bit of instruction. That will never do.”

  The entire family laughed at that, even Dorrin.

  Zam felt oddly happy sitting at this table with these people. Each one asked him questions about himself, and though he felt most of the answers quite dull, the family seemed to enjoy every minute. Later when both the meal and conversation were done, Galwen asked Dorrin to lead Zam back to his room, and to be sure that no one tried to reclaim that sword. Zam puzzled at that.