Through the Dark Wood

by Geno Allen

  Zam was startled by Griss’ response.

  Corben spoke calmly. “Be still, Sir. It was an article of great interest, great enough that I could interrupt her in her study and request an audience for you.”

  Zam’s thoughts left the here and now at the mention of a study. He was just realizing he’d had a dream. He couldn’t recall it clearly, but there was a study, a sword on a table, his staff and book, and a beautiful girl for whom he felt sorry.

  “Guardian Corben?” Zam asked. “What else did you bring her?”

  Corben found it strange that Zam was more curious about what else he had shown the chief guardian than whether or not they were to gain an audience. “A few other oddities: a book that would not open, no matter the force I exerted upon it; a handful of jewels; a staff that I would have sworn was casting light as I lay to sleep, but seemed not so in the light of the study–” Corben was suddenly frustrated with himself that he was answering the question, “Do you, or do you not, wish to know if you have gained audience?

  “Yes. Most certainly. I apologize.”

  “The chief guardian was intrigued by all but the staff, and said she will meet with you tomorrow.”

  At the word tomorrow Zam’s spirit dropped and his voice rose. “You said the Coriaeran traders are due to market this week! The longer we wait the less likely I will be able to save–” Zam‘s heart skipped a beat as he almost said Raine’s name. “The less likely I will be able to save my friend.” He was not yet sure he wanted to mention the name of the girl who had allowed the lord of Knighton’s son to die.

  Corben grew frustrated. “I have done my best, Boy, and far more than any other guardian would have done for a prisoner.”

  Zam realized how inappropriately he was acting, and immediately checked his tone. He bowed. “I do apologize, Guardian Corben,” his eyes began to fill with tears but he did not let them fall. “I am simply afraid for my friend. Truly, I am grateful for all you are doing.”

  Corben was a man of great compassion. “I understand your fear and your response. I must, however, require that you refrain from raising your voice to me again. Other guardians would not stand for such behavior, and I cannot stand for it either, once I have given warning.”

  Zam nodded and apologized again.

  Corben sighed and shook his head. “I must now turn to my duties for the day. I leave you two.”

  As he was about to exit, Griss asked, “Guardian Corben, why have you been so kind to us? You don’t know us, yet you put yourself at risk by your actions.”

  Corben’s demeanor lightened as he looked from Griss to Zam and back. “I don't know, Sirs. Though I question its true purpose, your errand feels more correct to me than much of what I have seen, felt, or known for many years now.” He paused. “Not since King Yeru’s father was killed. But to speak of such things is forbidden... I must away to my other duties. Rest while there is little else you may do, and when tomorrow breaks you may find your plight improved... or at least, such is my hope.” Corben exited.

  Zam sat thinking, rather marveling, that even when imprisoned by one who had befriended Seritheen, here again was help along the road. They sat silently for a while, and Zam noted that Griss was out of sorts. Though he felt anxieties about the fate of his book and staff, he set them aside and turned to his friend. “Griss, what troubles you?”

  Looking up, he gazed at Zam solemnly. “Do you recall Seri-Nandel’s words when he returned a belonging to me at the mouth of the Lost Hills?”

  “I can’t recall.”

  Griss looked at the floor and shook his head, seeing something far away within his memories. “In all my days, though my father would rob and steal if ever he perceived the need, I have never taken anything that did not belong to me, save once.” His brow furrowed. “It has been a point of shame to me, though Raim Sabbar believes it to have been Elyon’s guidance that I heeded unwittingly.

  “As Corben mentioned, it was a weapon that Seri-Nandel returned to me, a sword taken from the wall of Lord Targanon’s chamber the morning I left his service. It was the sword that should have been passed to Cindegair II, but I had taken his life at Targanon’s word, so I took the sword from Targanon. I did not know the value of it until I met Raim Sabbar.”

  Griss faded into the past once more, and Zam knew—just knew. “Griss, what sword?”

  Griss saw the recognition in Zam’s eyes and said flatly, “It is Elyon’s Flame, forged by Kamm, the Brother King, weapon of the High King of Darlandis and Cairemia.”

  The words were spoken and both fell silent. It struck Zam that if Guardian Neereth knew of the blade’s origin Griss could face a terrible retribution. It was awful… and amazing. “You stole the king’s sword,” Zam said with both fear and awe. “You could have been killed for that.”

  “I still may. When I took it, I did not know that Targanon would be overthrown and close relatives of Cindegair would claim the throne. Had I known, I would have left it. Now my fate is locked up in the chief guardian’s understanding of history. She is young. There may be a chance....”

  Something dawned on Zam. “Griss, your words are not true.”

  Griss looked at him, offended, but Zam continued before he could respond. “Your fate is not locked up in her understanding.”

  Griss drew a slow breath. “When Seri-Nandel said I might have use of the blade I knew he did not mean for battle. I thought perhaps I would be allowed to return it to the rightful king. Now a young girl holds my life and honor in her hands. I could have returned it from the dark lands and the king would have looked on me with favor. Now I am likely to end as dishonorably as did my father.”

  There was the chink in Griss’ mighty armor. He could not bear the thought of his being anything like his father. The theft of Elyon’s Flame was a splinter in his soul. When the thought of it arose, it made him wince. He saw himself as a thief just as his father had been.

  Griss has a noble heart now—in which few would find anything corrupt. He will not meet an ignoble end. This is not the end of either of our quests. “Griss... Elyon will decide.”

  For the first time, Zam could see doubt in Griss at those words. Griss closed his eyes and nodded agreement, but it was agreement he did not feel. He leaned his head back against the wall and said, “I wish to rest my eyes a while in silence. I apologize.”

  The day passed slowly. Griss’ mood did not change, nor did he speak. Zam felt horrible for his friend and for his own plight as well. What will become of us? Of Raine? If I am allowed to go to Raine, will Tara keep my staff and book? “And why do I call her Tara in my mind, as if she were somehow a friend and not Chief Guardian Neereth? Perhaps it has to do with my dream. He whispered to himself, “I wish I could recall it clearly.”

  A guard brought the evening meal and Griss roused himself enough to partake, but when the meal was over he sat in silence against the wall again.

  Zam was sorry he had no words to comfort his friend. Elyon, you sent Griss along with me. Is this to be his end? He shook his head. May it not be so. Neither spoke again that night.

  Morning came and there was no sign of the sun. Wind wracked the keep and brought a horrible chill to the cell. It was the cold that woke Zam. Griss was still sleeping, his face more peaceful than the night before.

  Like a flood washing through Zam's being, a dream he'd had in the night came back and moved him to wake his friend. “Griss,” He said, and again, “Griss, wake up. I must speak with you.”

  Griss opened his eyes and looked about, an odd expression on his face. “What an interesting night.”

  Just then Corben rounded the corner and approached the cell. “Good day, Good Sirs.”

  Zam was pleased to see Corben, as he was certain that he must meet with Tara—Guardian Neereth—sooner rather than later. He hoped against hope that the guardian was ready to see him.

  Corben said, “I should like to say I have been sent bring you to my captain, but that would be untrue. Though the darkness outside your window b
elies it, while you both slept the noon hour has passed, a storm approaches, and Guardian Neereth is still locked in her study. I believe her counselor has not spoken to her, or she would be calling for you by now.”

  Zam nodded. “Guardian Corben, I thank you for trying.” He was being sincere, but what followed was part of a plan. “I do not wish to bother you with trifling things, but I believe my friend Griss here is hungry, and I would be very grateful for a meal as well. Though we are prisoners and have not the right to ask, could a meal be sent for?”

  Corben was a compassionate soul with an understanding nature, but he was also shrewd and could smell a plot resting in Zam’s request. He eyed Zam carefully, and determined—for reasons he could not explain—to ignore his suspicions. “I will see to it that a meal is brought to you.” He eyed Zam in a way that said I know you are up to something. Be skillful in it if you attempt it. With that he shook his head at what he was allowing himself to ignore and exited.

  Zam explained his dream to Griss.

  Griss believed swift action suited their need as well. “I will share with you the gist of my own dream. I believe I have insight into what drives our captor, and why she has not called for you yet, if in truth she has not been able to take counsel with her Seritheen guide.”

  They discussed things as quickly as they could and made a plan for when Corben returned. Though they did not relish what they would have to do, both were certain they must break out, and this was the time. To their great surprise it was Daze, not Corben, who returned with their meals.

  He scoffed. “So, Corben’s wrong again. No attending to prisoners, he said. Not once more, he said. Well, here I am. Apparently Guardian Tessts wanted me to see what I could learn from you two... particularly you, Boy. You should have seen Corben’s face when he met me in the hall to let me know.”

  Thank you, Corben.

  Zam said, “Well, from the smell of you, it seems Corben was right about one thing. You have been working the stables. Or is this how you usually smell?”

  Daze’s eyes flashed with anger as he dropped the food and fumbled with his keys to open the iron door. He stared hard at Zam as he tried several times in his anger to open the door. “There are no other guardians around to keep me from pounding on you, Boy, and that’s my favorite way of learning what people have got to hide.”

  He finally opened the cell and entered. He couldn’t see that the chain which bound both shackled prisoners to the wall had been snapped like twine before he entered, the broken part concealed in Griss’ hand, awaiting the right moment. He raised his fist and stepped toward Zam, who cowered in mock fear.

  A chain fell. In the next moment Griss was standing and the chain linking his shackles was wrapped firmly about Daze’s throat.

  Daze struggled, but Griss said calmly, “Guardian Daze, look at the broken chain upon the ground. It required little of my strength to pull apart those links. Imagine what effort it would take for me to achieve a similar result with this chain wrapped as it is about your neck. It would serve your best interest if you did not fight me.”

  Daze’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the broken chain and instantly stopped struggling.

  Zam stood. “I was surprised at how easily he broke them as well.” He took the keys from Daze’s hand. “I'll have these.” Zam unlocked his shackles first, and let them drop to the ground.

  Through strained breath, Daze said, “You won’t escape, Boy!”

  Zam looked him squarely in the eyes. “Fair enough… since that is not our intention.”

  Daze was puzzled.

  Zam took the guardian’s sword and then unlocked Griss’ shackles. Griss kept firm tension on the chain which held Daze in check and led him to the place against the wall where Zam had been chained. All the while Zam kept the tip of the sword pointed a short distance from the guardian’s heart.

  Once Daze had been securely chained inside the cell, Griss looked at Zam. “He’ll have a boot knife, if he’s half a soldier.”

  Zam retrieved the knife then realized it was his own dagger, given to him that night in the cave of Ellerion’s Wall. “Thieving, Guardian Daze?”

  Griss released his choke hold on their former captor and took the dagger from Zam until he could get his hands on a sword.

  Daze threatened to shout for help, but Griss pulled him up close. “That would not benefit your continued existence, Guardian Daze.” He held the dragon dagger to the guardian’s throat. “Now, which way to the chief guardian’s study?” Griss made Daze hold his gaze, and the guardian shook from head to toe as he gave them detailed directions. He made no sound, nor gave any sign of intending to, as they left the cell.

  They wound their way around a corner down one hall to another. “Griss,” Zam said quietly. “Would you have killed him if he had made a noise?”

  Griss stopped and turned to Zam. His eyes held the compassion Zam was used to seeing, as did his voice when he spoke. “I will not kill a man again, Zam, unless there is no other choice which can be made, but there is reason to allow a man like Daze to believe I would at the slightest impulse. I do not enjoy causing that kind of fear, but with one such as he, it was necessary.”

  “I understand.”

  They continued down the hall until they came to one of the doors Daze had described. Inside they should find a small armory. Pushing on the door, they found it unlocked and cautiously entered, hoping they would not be met by well-armed guards. Instead they were met by a well-stocked armory.

  One wall held a large assortment of shields. The others were lined with weapons of every sort. Griss returned Zam’s dagger to him and found upon a table his own large broadsword, which the king's smith had crafted for him all those years ago in Artolis. Not a moment passed before two guardians stepped into the room and were startled to find escaped prisoners. A call went out as one guardian ran from the room and the other drew his sword. Zam took a shield from the wall and prepared for the onslaught. With deftness Zam wouldn't have expected from his large friend, Griss engaged the guardian in battle, quickly disarmed him, and with a strong right cross knocked him cold.

  “Come!” Griss shouted as he rushed from the room to meet the fray. Zam followed, and they made their way down several passages before they were again met by soldiers. Before and behind them many guardians entered. They were trapped in a long hallway, back to back, Griss facing the greater host of foes and Zam the lesser. The soldiers advanced slowly and in unison, so as not to give the prisoners any chance of taking one alone.

  Several doors lined the hall, and Griss said quietly over his shoulder, “There, the third door... if Daze spoke true that is the chief guardian’s study. If we are swift we may reach the door before we are engaged in battle.”

  “I’ll follow your lead.”

  Immediately Griss shouted a war cry and ran at the greater host of soldiers. Zam followed close behind. The soldiers were at first shocked and some even stumbled back, but a handful ran to meet their foes. The battle converged there before the door of the chief guardian’s study, and Zam was locking swords with three soldiers at once. He had disarmed two of the soldiers when Griss drove the soldiers before him just beyond the door he sought. With a massive force, Griss ripped the locked door off its hinges. Wood splintered and bits of the door clattered down the hall. Several soldiers stopped suddenly, awed by Griss’ titanic strength. Zam took the lead as they both burst into the study.

  Upon entering, they found the chief guardian ready for battle, save she wore no helm. Zam recalled his dream in perfect clarity. She was exactly as he dreamt, and again he could feel her fear. He dropped his sword, dropped to the floor, and bowed before her. Griss, surprised by his action, faltered, then followed in turn.

  “Guardian Neereth,” Zam said, keeping his gaze on the floor.

  The guardian had not known what to expect from the commotion in the hall, but it was certainly not this. Several of the guards who had been battling the escapees entered the room, nearly stumbling over Griss who
was closer to the door. Corben was the last to enter.

  The guards reached for the prisoners, but Guardian Neereth commanded them to hold. She dismissed all but three of them. Corben and Rorin were among those who remained.

  The chief guardian was intrigued. “The two of you, it seems, seldom choose a wise course of action.”

  Griss and Zam remained on the floor, their eyes downcast.

  “First you travel the dark wood, which is folly and forbidden. And now, do you not think there are better ways to escape than running deeper into your prison, dropping your weapons, and bowing before the captain of the guard who’s imprisoned you? What have you to say?”

  Zam looked up and caught her gaze. “We were not trying to escape.” The look in his eyes grabbed the guardian and held her. “We sought you.” This sent a rush of fear through her, and Zam sensed it. He set his gaze back to the floor.

  “And why would you escape only to seek out your captor? I should think to kill me, but for your reaction upon finding me.” She was confused and unsure how to proceed.

  Zam met her gaze again. “I will explain.”

  She nodded assent.

  “Though my approach will likely seem round about.”

  She nodded again.

  “I had a dream last night. In the dream my friend was being held in a dark place with many other women, both Coriaeran and Cairemian. Each was set to be sold as a slave, though none there were like her. The others had been harlots and slaves before. Some even looked forward to their sale, but she stood solitary and sad, for she knew what was to come for her. I tried to reach her and help her escape, but I could not get there. Before me were dark, heavy bars. I frantically sought a way out and then I saw you.”

  Tara, held his gaze, caught unwillingly in his tale, wanting intently to know what would happen next.

  “As I approached you, a shadowy figure crept up beside you, clawed at your shoulder, and put its mouth to your ear. It whispered something, and I somehow knew that the creature meant to see my destruction, as well as the suffering of my friend. Were the creature to have its way, she would be subjected to unspeakable abuses once sold. I approached you, against my fear, and heard you speak the creature’s name. You called him Nain.”