Through the Dark Wood

by Geno Allen

  Zam wondered whether Raim Sabbar would say anything about the danger ahead. He did not. Instead he nodded and passed a knowing look to Zam. I will have to explain this to Griss on my own…. Somehow that seems right. He nodded back.

  Griss, in his sadness at leaving his faithful friend, didn’t notice the exchange. “Never in all our partings have I felt as I do now. I fear for you, old friend, though I see you stronger than in all our time together. It may be that my fear is unfounded, but promise me that when you sleep, it will be through the night only, and you will certainly rise the next day to continue your journey in strength.”

  “That is a promise I make, and I will keep.”

  Zam asked, “Where do you go from here?”

  Raim Sabbar was resolute. “I make for Drandast, where Raurelin Seer sleeps. If I could fly there, I would arrive inside of three days, but I am not yet prepared for the dragons and other dark creatures of this land to know my path. I will go on foot, and many dark places stand between here and there.”

  “Between you and she,” Griss said, lightening what was for him a difficult parting.

  Zam asked, “Raurelin Seer is a female?”

  “That she is, Windwater, though Griss implies something beyond the truth with his tone.”

  “I merely imply that you shall be very glad of seeing her. And of course you would be glad to see any other Tal’kyon.”

  “True,” Raim Sabbar said.

  Griss smirked. “Simply not as glad.”

  They looked at each other with a kindly quarrel in their eyes, but there was no arguing the point. Raim Sabbar knew it was true. He sighed in resignation and smiled at Griss. “As I was saying, there are many dark places I must pass. I will avoid them as I am able, and that will lengthen my travel. It may be two weeks or more before I arrive.”

  Zam’s face filled with worry. “So long? But will you… I mean–”

  Raim Sabbar stood up strong. “Being on my own will not cause me to lose hope. There are many hopeful things afoot. The School of Trees told me the Silver Farrix have in fact returned, and in large numbers. They are shepherding the Black Farrix again.” He seemed to recall something. “This will interest you, Windwater. It also seems my many arguments with the Rindles have not been in vain. Your rescue when the Black Farrix attacked was a rescue indeed. It was Dooriel, chief of the Rindles, who came to your aid. The School tells me he has sworn to protect humans in Darlandis and that his kind will no longer prey upon them.”

  Zam said, “That is hopeful. No fear of them dropping out of the sky to harm us as we venture out on our own.”

  “No, Windwater, now you only need fear that from dragons.”

  Zam did not find that a particularly comforting thought.

  Raim Sabbar looked away west. “Well, now we come to it. Windwater, it is a short time since first we met, but you are deep in my heart, and you will always have my gratitude. I wish you speed and wisdom in your travel. May you reach your goal and find the true aim of your quest.”

  Zam smiled at him. “May you find comfort in the awakening of your kind. And thank you for all you have done. You are also deep in my heart.”

  Griss stood before Raim Sabbar. “Sleep not but in the night, my friend. Be well when I return, and wish Raurelin well for me as well when you awaken her.” Tears welled in his eyes but did not fall.

  Compassion filled Raim Sabbar. “Griss, friend, have peace in your travels. You and I will meet again. Think of this parting no differently than your ventures to help travelers who wander into our land. Save this time the traveler did not wander here. Elyon brought him, and he has already helped bring a taste of splendor back to this land. Travel with him. Guard him as your heart leads you, as you have guarded me against sleep... but Griss, follow his lead.”

  Griss understood Raim Sabbar’s meaning. “I will, old friend.”

  Griss wrapped his arms around the great stone warrior’s neck, and Raim Sabbar returned the embrace, as well as a Tal'kyon may. Before releasing Griss he said, “I leave you, but my heart does not, dear friend.” then Raim Sabbar turned and set off west. When he was a short way off, he stopped and turned once more to them. The morning sun cast its light upon him, and in that moment Zam and Griss saw him in all the splendor that Elyon had intended for his kind.

  He shouted back to them, “May Elyon decide in your quest!”

  Griss nodded, and Zam shouted back, “And in yours!” Raim Sabbar then turned back to the west and set off with blinding speed. He passed beyond a stand of trees and was gone.

  Griss sighed and set his gaze east. “Well Zam, we‘d best be on our way.”

  “Agreed,” Zam said with a hint of sorrow. He hefted the pack onto his shoulder that Raim Sabbar had carried for him thus far. It was heavy, containing many items Griss had found in Vandaris and thought useful. He looked once more west and began the new march.

  The pass to Vendill was a gentle slope, open and with few trees, just tall, parched grasses rustling in the breeze. They lent the pass a somber feel. At first it seemed to go on and on, but a ways off it bent northward and seemed almost to stop. From that vantage point there was no straight view to the plains.

  Though they had traveled in silence to this point, Zam required some sort of conversation to ease his sorrow. “It seems if one did not know there was a path here they would miss it altogether.”

  “Indeed. This pass runs along the edge of the Lost Hills and bears some of their stones.”

  “Why are they called the Lost Hills?”

  “From the tales, many have been lost and lost their lives there over time. They are also called the Dread Hills, for the fear they inspired in ages past. It’s difficult to know the pass to Vendill is here, but were you to turn toward the hills at the bottom you might never find your way out.”

  Zam looked at him. “Do you not fear the Dread Hills?”

  “I will call them the Lost Hills, for I do not fear them. I do not desire to be lost in them, but my father could find his way through foreign woods in a fog at night, and though I learned little else of worth from him, that skill is one thing I did.”

  A tone of contempt crept into Griss’ words when he mentioned his father. Zam understood Griss to be a private man with regard to his life before Darlandis. So, he chose not to broach the subject. He will share what he will, if he will, in time.

  An hour passed. They continued along the valley as it narrowed, working their way toward Vendill. When they had rounded the northward bend Zam was glad indeed that he was traveling with Griss Corwise. In front of them was what seemed a pile of impassible boulders—a wall of rock nearly three times Griss' height—but Griss walked right through one of the boulders, or so it seemed. Once he had passed through Zam realized there was an opening; however, the rocks beyond and the rocks around were so similar that one could easily mistake it as an impasse.

  Griss turned around and saw Zam piecing together what he had just witnessed. “That, Zam, may be why the Lost Hills are so dangerous.”

  Zam shook his head. He could only imagine the Lost Hills and what it would be like, being surrounded by rocks that continually tricked the eye so.

  Griss added, “There is also the part about the hills moving, in the tale I was told.”

  “Moving?”

  “Yes.” Griss continued marching through the narrow rocky pass. “Shifting about some say, or so Raurelin Seer told me when once I met her abroad. At first she was surprised that I did not fear her, but when she learned that I often traveled with Raim Sabbar, she understood.” He paused a thoughtful moment. “She had great respect for Raim Sabbar. We sat and ate together that day, and she shared with me several tales he never had. Some I’m sure he was unfamiliar with. Others he had simply kept to himself. One she shared was that of the Lost Hills.”

  The telling of tales seemed to enliven Griss and move his heart further from sorrow. He walked with greater determination as he spoke. “It is said that the Vendill plains once stretched farther north th
an they do now, but during the reign of King Ellerion there was a cataclysmic upheaval. The king had caught wind of a prophecy that had its roots in the wild lands to the east beyond Darlandis—what we now know as Cairemia. He intended to march upon those lands and claim them as his own, but there were other plans in action. As he passed Tangleweave and made for the road to the Great Bridge, the ground trembled thunderously and the rock face—ever after called the Wall of Ellerion—sprang up before him, blocking his way. It is a mountain from the eastern side, but where Ellerion and his armies stood, it was a wall impassable.”

  “But there is a pass through Ellerion's wall. Is that not where you first led me?”

  Griss nodded. “That there is. In his pride Ellerion would not change his course. If he were to turn aside and find another way it would prove he was not the master of all that he deemed himself to be. So he set his forces to hewing a pass through the wall. Ten years they labored before it was done, and many lives were lost in the effort.

  “Roreshan, his eldest son, feared all that his father feared and believed the pass would not be opened to them in time to stop the prophecy, so he took a detachment of six hundred men guided by trackers from Vendill and set out to find a way around. They made their way to this pass, and when they reached the plains they found them much changed. The same cataclysm that raised the wall had created a range of rocky hills. Though shocked by this, they made for the woods that border the plains and lead to the Great Bridge, but a creature they had not seen before approached them from the sky. ‘Dragon!’ some shouted, but it was not. It was–”

  “Raurelin Seer!”

  Griss looked Zam over wondering how he seemed to know the things he did, but in truth this time it had merely been a guess. “Indeed,” he said, and then looked about. “It is about time for the noon meal. Let us sit.” As they sat to eat, Griss continued. “Raurelin Seer drove the men with fire from the plains into the newly formed hills. She need do no more, for when all save those who had been consumed by fire were among the hills, a rumbling began and the hills seemed to close in, blocking any escape. She stood watch for a fortnight, and at times the hills seemed to move as if closing off some new way the men had found. In the end, none escaped. Thus the Lost Hills were born.”

  Zam finished a piece of the fruit Noralie and Bondur had sent along with them. “Sounds horrific. I understand why the people of the plains named them the Dread Hills. But what kept Ellerion from claiming the lands that are Cairemia?”

  “That I learned from Raim Sabbar. In all the years it took to complete the pass, Ellerion did not return home to Cirin Darlanden. Instead he and his men camped there at the wall. Now, Ellerion had a second son, Reldion, to whom the loss of his elder brother was crushing. He believed his father’s pride that drove him to complete the pass was madness, and that left him feeling very much alone. He never believed in prophecy, and though his father lived, in his heart he had lost both brother and father to the madness. So when Ellerion’s men finished the pass and the king made ready to depart into the wild lands, Reldion enacted his vengeance upon the madness that took his family from him. Having gathered a large following, he struck his father down and claimed the throne. Those whose families suffered in the construction of the pass rallied to him, and his reign far outlasted that of his father.”

  “So they never crossed the pass into the wild lands?” Zam asked.

  “I’m sure some did, but that is where my knowledge of the history ends. Never in force or great number did any move from Darlandis into the wild lands, not until the Brother Kings established Cairemia.”

  With the story complete, they gathered up their packs and continued through the winding rocks of the pass to Vendill. Zam wondered if the Lost Hills had ever grown. If they move, perhaps we’ll be caught within their borders. Perhaps we already are… He tried to put that thought from his mind. Remember, Griss can find his way through foreign woods at night in a fog. The thought brought some comfort.

  As they traveled in silence the pass began to widen out. They were nearing the bottom and Zam was beginning to wonder. How will I tell Griss we cannot make for the path through the woods? Perhaps this is part of the great test Raim Sabbar spoke of. I will have to take the lead. He truly hoped Griss would follow.

  But follow where? was the thought that kept returning, accompanied over and over by the same uncomfortable answer. The Lost Hills. It repeated and grew and resounded in his heart and mind. When they reached the plains Zam would find a way to convince Griss—even though he hated the idea himself.

  After a few more hours they were nearing the plains. The sun was still above the horizon, but Zam felt they needed to rest before dark. He was unsure how to tell Griss his plan, but they could not start the march toward the woods. He looked about and saw an outcropping of rock that would make for a defensible camp roughly a furlong from the mouth of the pass.

  “Griss, I believe we should make camp there.” He pointed to the rocks.

  “You have a good eye, Zam. That would make a fine camp, but there are likely three hours of sunlight remaining.” Griss continued marching.

  “Griss,” Zam said with a little more urgency. “I mean to say, we should make camp there for the night.”

  Griss paused. He knew the importance of Zam’s mission, and he knew the fastest way to get him to his goal, so he replied almost sternly, “Stopping when there is yet daylight will not bring us to your friend in haste, Zam.”

  “You’re right. And I know the risk in every delay, but even still we must stop and, for tonight, this must be our campsite”

  Griss furrowed his brow and almost argued, but then recalled his promise to Raim Sabbar, that he would follow Zam. He sighed a protracted sigh. “Very well, Zam. Though, if you merely need to rest a while, we can do that and continue shortly.”

  The look in Zam’s eye told Griss it was something more. “Thank you Griss, but something bodes ill, and I need time to think.”

  With effort Griss dropped his frustrated demeanor and replied, “Then take that time, Zam, and I will gather wood for the evening meal.”

  Zam sat in silence, pondering all that lay ahead. He knew what was waiting for him if they made for the woods—perhaps not what specifically, but death was its intent, and that was cause enough for him to fear. He had first chosen to stop at this place so he could find a way of convincing Griss not to turn south at the plains, but as he pondered he felt something he could not explain. Another danger, something malevolent, was creeping their way.

  Griss returned with wood and set to building a fire, but just as he prepared to strike the flint, Zam reached for his arm. “Griss, hold off on the fire, please.” It was his tone that caught Griss and made him look about as if an enemy had drawn near.

  He set the flint down quietly and whispered, “What is it, Zam?”

  “I am not sure. There is danger near. I feel it. Do you not feel it?”

  The question carried an unpleasant weight for Griss. He did not feel it. He often sensed danger before it approached, but this evening he sensed nothing. He couldn’t decide whether Zam was merely afraid or whether his own senses were somehow dulled. “I do not, Zam.”

  That brought Zam greater fear. Am I wrong? Is my fear of Griss' plan for tomorrow besting me? He had no way of knowing and wasn't sure he could trust his own thoughts.

  Griss saw this battle cross Zam’s face and was sorry for him. “But… I will trust to your instincts this night. If you feel we should have no fire, we will sit quietly in the dark, when darkness falls, which is likely an hour off.”

  That Griss chose to trust him eased Zam's fears. As twilight set in, he decided it was time to share Raim Sabbar’s news regarding the path ahead. “Griss, for tonight, I don't know whether my fears are getting the better of me, but I am certain of a danger tomorrow that will take our lives if given the chance.”

  Griss was curious, but not doubtful. “Of what do you speak, Zam?” There was something in Zam’s eyes as he spoke, a moment
of wisdom Griss thought.

  Zam began explaining Raim Sabbar’s tale of the night spent stargazing and somehow conversing with Elyon, and about the message of the danger awaiting them. He did not include the bit about Griss misleading Zam. That had been private, and would do no good for Griss to hear.

  When the tale was done, Griss said, “It is good that Raim Sabbar shared this with you, for it has heightened your awareness of the dangers about, though I know of no other path we can take.” He pondered a moment, and Zam was about to tell him his plan when Griss froze, held his hand up for quiet, and was instantly alert. He quietly stood and pressed against the rocks. A foul smell crept up the pass from the plain, forcing Zam to alertness as well. The scent was followed by the sound of something large walking with heavy steps near the mouth of the pass. At first Zam imagined the creature creeping its way up the pass, but the sound grew no nearer.

  Griss looked past the edge of the rock and instantly pulled back. Looking over his shoulder at Zam he mouthed the word, “Raggelus.”

  Zam didn't understand and returned a puzzled look.

  “Dark creature,” he whispered as quietly as possible.

  Zam understood and nodded. They remained there, pressed against the rock, quiet as possible, hoping the beast would move on.

  Zam was right about the need to stop there, and Griss took note of that.

  Zam wondered at the danger. What might a Raggelus be? What might it do?

  The two of them waited in silence. The sun set and the moon lit the land. Zam caught Griss' eyes in the moonlight. He seemed fearful, and that frightened Zam. After some time the creature made its way south, and the two adventurers sat again, both with senses more keen.

  Griss whispered. “It was well chosen that we stop here, Zam, and that I not build a fire.” He paused in thought. “Raggeli are not known to dwell in these parts. I cannot say how many there are, but I am certain there are more. If something is waiting for us at the southern border of the plains, it is likely a hoard of Raggeli.”