Through the Dark Wood

by Geno Allen

  “What are they?”

  “Simply put, they are foul creatures that would take pleasure in eating us both slowly. They are large and their rage is strong. They’re not as cunning as dragons but more mindful than Black Farrix. It is possible that together we could fight one, but many... perhaps my detour has not served us well if the inhabitants of the eastern road have pressed so far north.”

  “Are there truly no other paths we can take?” Zam asked, trying to find any plan but his own.

  Griss shook his head. “The plains are wide here but they continue to narrow as they approach the woods to the south. The Lost Hills are a short distance north, though I've never ventured there and have never heard of an outlet in any tale. Passing east from here we would meet again the edge of the Lost Hills. From there they stretch southward and meet the precipice that is, at its foot, the great river Moriella.”

  Zam thought of the Great Bridge, and asked, “Could we not follow the precipice and avoid that which awaits us?”

  “Were we to take that path, Zam, and follow the river as you suggest we would be seen by the beasts awaiting us. The span of wood from the back side of Ellerion’s wall to the river is narrow. Even a lone Raggelus would easily discover us.”

  Zam sighed. “And I too believe there are many.”

  Both were unsure what to do. Griss said, “It may be best that we pass this night in silence. Perhaps the morning will present us with another plan.”

  Zam wanted to agree, hoping some other plan would present itself. Griss will see my intention as foolish. It may very well be, but... “Griss, there is more I must say.”

  Griss looked hard at Zam, hearing the tension in his voice.

  Zam continued, warily at first. “I must ask you to trust that I would not choose a path that would keep me from rescuing Galwen’s granddaughter. Trust that I would not suggest folly, could I avoid it. I believe our path must be… north, into the Lost Hills.”

  Griss wore a puzzled expression. He seemed to be weighing what it could mean to take that road. Zam waited for the disagreement, the better idea, but none came. Griss closed his eyes as if shutting out the world to better conceive what Zam suggested, and after a long moment, he spoke.

  “We will leave at daybreak.” He nodded. “We must be wary of the Raggeli. They may patrol the mouth of this pass. Up until now the wind has been in our favor, but if it shifts in the night we will be easily discovered. If one Raggelus discovers us, it will call the rest of its hoard. And if that happens, having slain a dragon will seem a simple endeavor.”

  Zam was filled with a mix of elation that Griss had not argued the plan and fear that they were set to travel a path that every tale painted as foolish. They agreed to take three-hour watches to pass the night. Griss took the first watch, though Zam could hardly sleep. Raim Sabbar had told him there was no need to fear Shadow Vermin east of the Wall of Ellerion, but now there were other things to fear, and they would be less easily dissuaded.

  When Griss woke Zam, the darkness had congealed. Zam had not felt it so heavily since his second day in Darlandis. He searched the sky for any sign of stars. Griss noticed this. “Clouds, Zam... rolled in from the south within the last hour. The stars have not been put out.”

  Zam looked north and saw the clouds’ edge cutting across the last remnant of stars. Their light comforted him as he took Griss’ place against the rocks, nearer to the path. Before he could say any more Griss was sound asleep. Zam would need him completely alert for their trek among the Lost Hills. He determined to keep watch for the rest of the night, unless sleep took too bold a stand against him.

  Several hours had passed when an unfamiliar sound moved through the air toward Zam. It sounded almost like music, but of a kind he had never heard. For a moment it brought him comfort, then fear, and the fear grew with the rise and fall of the music. Zam recalled the first poem he had read after starting his journey. ‘Beware of what lies hidden...’ that was the heart of the poem. ’but that is such you cannot see without me.’ Elyon, I can’t tell whether this music is a dream, a blessing, or something accursed. But I ask, do not let this quest be ended tonight, please.

  Zam listened more closely. The music sounded like flutes in the wind. The wind! He suddenly realized the wind had shifted. Were any Raggeli about they would have caught Zam and Griss’ scent by now. He ventured a quick glance around the rocks. It was difficult to see, but something was moving. The night had become too dark for Zam to make out even a shape, but it was the same footsteps he had heard at dusk, heavy and moving toward them.

  In that same instant he realized the music was coming from the opposite direction. He could just make out a faintly luminescent form, standing a distance up the pass. It stood more than half taller than Griss and nearly three times his width. If an ogre were unusually tall and somehow pleasant to behold it could look something like a Ruugak—though at the time Zam didn't know that’s what such a creature is called.

  The Ruugak walked silently to the edge of the rock outcropping where Zam and Griss had made camp and stood facing the plains. At first Zam wondered whether the creature had seen them. The wind kicked up and the music grew with it. Zam realized the music was coming from the Ruugak. With it standing so near, he could see its skin—if one could call it that. It was like wood or metal or both swirled together and it glowed faintly in the dark of the night. Its arms and chest had grooves and pits seemingly carved into them. They caught the wind, creating an ethereal music.

  The curvature and size of each groove lent to a different tone, and though when the wind whipped it made a chaotic symphony, when it dropped to a soft breeze Zam could perceive what seemed a distinct melody, soft, but triumphant.

  Zam lost track of how long he had stared at the creature when Griss began to stir. Griss was instantly on guard, but caught himself and gazed with Zam at the vision that stood before them. As the creature faced the plains and the music played in the night, both Griss and Zam forgot to fear what lurked in the dark.

  The creature turned its eyes upon them. A crowning softness there eased the heart of any who looked upon them, save their enemies who found no softness there. It spoke, and its voice was as soft and musical as the melody the wind now played as it passed. Were they only a few feet farther away the kind words would have been lost in the melody.

  “I am Seri-Nandel, and I will be your guardian this night. Sleep. The Raggeli will not come closer. They fear my kind, and do not yet know you are here, for my presence masks yours. Now sleep, and may Elyon keep you.” The wind whirled about Seri-Nandel, playing soft and lilting music. Aided by the Ruugak's tune, both men fell into a deep and restful sleep.

  The sun had not yet broken the horizon when Seri-Nandel woke the adventurers. “Good men, you must awake. Your time to depart is short.” Though still musical, there was an urgency in the creature’s speech, accented by the wind whipping across its skin.

  Zam could not help but observe the creature. He had judged its size rightly in the night. It looked as though it could wrap one hand firmly about Zam as easily as Zam could wrap his hand about his staff. Griss by comparison seemed little more than a gangly youth. The creature’s chest was bare and it wore a colorful wrap about its waist that draped to its knees.

  The grooves and pits he had seen in the creature’s skin were more than he had assumed the night before. Some seemed to pass clean through and others varied in depth and width. To Zam’s mind some parts reminded him of a cheese he had eaten as a child in Sandrey, though he would not be voicing that comparison. The creature’s color was a pastel brown, almost chalky, with a silvery hue dancing and swirling through it.

  Zam and Griss bowed to their guardian, both feeling more rested than one should after a night spent in the wild.

  Seri-Nandel spoke gently. “Do not bow, good men. I was tasked with aiding you, but now I worry. The Raggeli must know you are near, if not here. They are emboldened beyond my knowledge of their kind. My brothers passed by in the night to open th
e way for you. The Raggeli have met them in battle, and the way is not safe.”

  “How many are your brothers, Nandel?” Griss asked.

  “Seven did follow me here. Five remain in the fight. My brother Seri-Guuri was wounded. Seri-Than has carried him home.”

  Griss was startled at that. He had never heard of a Ruugak being wounded in battle. They are gentle creatures by nature, but when roused, it would require a great host of enemies to bring one down.

  Seri-Nandel continued. “Their passing brought me news. There will be no way to clear the pass to the Great Bridge. My brothers continue the fight so that you may turn back without pursuit.” A soft breeze blew by and played a somber tune through Seri-Nandel.

  Zam spoke up. “Our path is no longer to the Great Bridge, and neither can we turn back.”

  Seri-Nandel looked quizzically at him. “Then where do you go? Surely not to the river. You would not survive the climb.”

  Griss spoke plainly. “We make for the Lost Hills.”

  Seri-Nandel tensed at that. “But… your kind have died there time and again. How will you…? Such action is folly.” He looked at the two men, realizing they were in earnest. Unsure what to make of the plan, he stared at them. None spoke. A moment passed and Seri-Nandel’s tension inexplicably eased. He smiled. “Men have chosen mad paths all their days it would seem. I was to protect you through the night.” He paused and shook his head, creating an almost whimsical tune as the breeze passed by. “Now it appears I will do so longer. If that is your path, we must leave at once. My brothers battle, but if they should falter, the Raggeli will be upon us before we reach the Lost Hills.”

  They gathered their belongings and set off down the pass. Seri-Nandel led the way, walking several paces before them. The tune as he walked was comforting, even strengthening. Zam marveled that the creature had appeared in their moment of need. Surely this quest must be larger than I have yet considered, and Elyon has been true to his word. To this point, there has been help along the road. It was a distinctly comforting thought, but even still, considering the road ahead left him uneasy. Almost timidly, he asked, “Griss, do you think it is folly to pass through the Lost Hills?”

  “I don't know, Zam. You say pass through... I have heard of no one that has ever passed through, but I have heard fewer tales of the Lost Hills than of most things I have learned in Darlandis, so there is certainly hope. I have found my way in dangerous lands for a long time. If this is our path, by Elyon, we will find a way.”

  Zam was grateful for the help of this good-hearted warrior. He only hoped one day he could do something to return the kindness. Griss noted that Seri-Nandel had reached the mouth of the pass and was waiting for them. They quickened their pace.

  When they reached Seri-Nandel, he told them, “The battle is raging still. The music on the wind tells me my brothers are purchasing time for us, at great risk. We must make haste. Once you are within the hills I will return and aid them.” They quickened their pace and stuck beside each other as they pressed toward the northernmost point of the hills.

  Surveying the path, Zam noted that the hills looked more like the boulders from the pass than what one would expect when hearing the word hill. He looked farther east and saw that they took a more hill-like shape farther across the plain, but here to the north it seemed more like the Lost Boulders than Lost Hills.

  As they drew closer, a strong wind poured from the canyonous path into the hills. Zam imagined that must be what made the difference. The northern wind blowing here kept the path completely open. Earth had settled where the wind was not so fierce. “Seri-Nandel–”

  “Nandel only, Good Warrior. Seri is not for days such as these.”

  Zam didn’t understand, but obliged his current guardian. “Nandel, how was it that you came to aid us?” The question had been nagging at him, and as the sun crested the horizon Zam realized the time for answers would soon be passed.

  Seri-Nandel continued the march and began his tale. “The morning of three days prior, my brothers and our families were dancing along the back of Ellerion’s wall, as we often do on summer days. Seri-Garkan, the eldest, caught sight of Raggeli moving from the south out of the Darkling Wood along with other beasts I was not familiar with. They passed the plains of Yith and entered the woods of Vendill. Their actions heralded some unwholesome purpose, for the creatures of the Darkling Wood seldom leave the eastern road. When they set a guard along the forest edge, Seri-Garkan was certain a plan of the dark was unfurling.

  “‘Our help will be needed,’ he told us. Then quickly he made for the elder Thurgrim tree beside our dwelling and sought what information the old one could hear from the Fierisens beyond the wall. The old one has good hearing. The Fierisens told him you were approaching, that you were making for the Great Bridge, and that you were warriors to be aided. The Thurgrim then played a tune through its boughs that only Seri-Garkan understood. He nodded to the elder tree, then said that it was time, but my other brothers and I did not understand.

  “He recited and ancient poem passed from eldest born to eldest born:

  When Eastern Road meets Vendil Wood,

  lives must purchase lives of good.

  The way untaken, taken now.

  Return the blade of pledgling vow.

  The Thurgim hears what you have missed.

  Call brothers forth for song promise.

  The swiftest send ahead of you.

  Give questing ones the rest they're due,

  yes servants they, with hearts most true,

  on errand they, and must pass through.

  Lives will purchase lives of good,

  When Eastern Road meets Vendil Wood.

  “Then he made us promise in song that we would come to the pass and protect you. None of our kind has required a song promise in generations of men. It was obvious that a grave battle lay ahead. I am the youngest and, of my brothers, the swiftest, so I was sent ahead yestereve. That is how you came to see me in the pass when the Raggelus approached.” Feeling his tale complete, Seri-Nandel simply turned to the path ahead and quickened his pace.

  Griss and Zam were set at a jog against the wind in order to keep up. Neither could talk and keep the pace. Griss’s demeanor was pensive and Zam‘s mind turned to the gravity of Seri-Nandel's tale. All this simply so Griss and I may pass? Elyon, I don’t understand.

  In a short time they reached the northern path leading into the lost hills. The wind produced a riotous melody from Seri-Nandel as he turned to them.

  “Good men, from here I bid you both good journey.” He paused and whistled a stirring melody amidst the riot the wind already played, and Zam felt strengthened. Seri-Nandel looked at Griss. “Good warrior, my brother Seri-Garkan bade me return this to you.” He pulled from within one of the deep holes near his shoulder a long object wrapped in leather and bound with a purple tie. In Seri-Nandel’s hand it seemed small, but it was not. Griss was grim as he took it and fixed it to his pack. Seri-Nandel continued. “He said you would have need of it soon.”

  A look of surprise crossed Griss’ face. He bowed to the Ruugak.

  Zam wondered what the leather wrap held, and that Griss knew these creatures personally.

  Seri-Nandel turned to him. “And you, good warrior, I have no gift for you, save these words. As you walk, do so at peace, and know your strength is not in body alone.”

  After Zam thanked him, Seri-Nandel bowed his head to the good warriors, turned southward and set off at a run. He covered large distances quickly and the music that trailed after him was a war song that stirred the soul.

  A stronger wind kicked up from the north and nearly knocked Zam over. He turned back toward the path. “Well, Griss, folly or no, here we are.”

  Griss’ was grim faced once more, and, “Indeed.” was all he said as he turned and lead the way into Lost Hills.

  CHAPTER TEN: SEVEN MIRRORS

  A harsh wind poured through the winding rocks like water through rapids, leaping up every few momen
ts to drive Zam back. He had originally feared being lost in this strange place, but now he feared the wind would keep him out, force him back to the plains. Another strong gust rose up, and he lost his balance and tumbled backward. Looking up from the ground, he could see the path where he and Griss had entered the Lost hills.

  Suddenly a rumbling began, and both travelers looked about to find its source. Griss feared that rocks would fall from above and crush them. Zam simply feared.

  As one they saw the cause of the shaking. Where they had entered the Lost Hills, boulders were shifting and moving. In a moment, the opportunity to turn back was taken from them. Not that they wished to retreat, but now there was no longer any passage to the plains.

  There was a benefit: with the closing of the path, the wind died down and they could move forward with far less effort. Griss spoke for the first time since they’d passed the threshold of this land. “It appears they do move.”

  Zam shook his head in disbelief. “Indeed.” He said, wondering what more to say.

  Griss helped him up. “Well, Zam, I did not doubt the word of Raurelin Seer, but neither did I expect to see the hills move. This place may be more dangerous than I had believed it to be.”

  Zam wondered why he had made such a foolish choice. He looked to the path ahead—it grew narrower farther north—then to the blockade behind and took a deep breath. Foolish or not we press on. Raine needs saving.

  Taking his staff in hand, he began walking again. “We will find a way, Griss. You are a gifted pathfinder, and this is the way I was told to go. From the start Elyon said travel north, so north we go.”

  Griss smiled as he determined again that he would walk beside this young adventurer. “So north we go.”

  They walked for some time through narrow, winding paths. A feeling of weariness began creeping over Zam. In hope that it would not get the better of him, he struck up a conversation once more. “Griss, it seemed that creature and his brothers knew you personally. They even had a gift for you.”