Wrath of the Dragon King

by Brandon Mull

  “I feel like we’re being watched,” Kendra said as they followed Patton forward.

  “Maybe not watched,” Patton said. “But definitely noticed.”

  “How can you tell the trees are smart?” Knox asked. “They just look like trees.”

  “Well, anything made from their wood comes to life,” Patton said.

  “That’s where the wooden people come from?” Seth asked.

  “Exactly,” Patton said. “The wooden henchmen are controlled by the trees. They act on behalf of their masters.”

  “Who made the first wooden person?” Seth asked.

  “I don’t know,” Patton said. “My guess would be a dryad or a hamadryad. Now the woodlings make each other, according to the desires of the forest.”

  “They must have axes,” Knox said.

  “I suspect they have some tools,” Patton said. “But let’s not discuss it anymore right now. I’m getting the feeling that we’re being too noisy.”

  “There is a hush,” Charlemagne said in a quiet voice. “No animal sounds.”

  As they fell silent, Seth could not help sensing the unusual stillness around him. He kept wanting to glance around to see who was spying on him. He felt observed from all directions. But wherever he looked, it was just more trees.

  At first, only the footfalls of their mounts disturbed the silence. As they advanced, the more Seth paid attention, the more he noticed strange creaks and groans issuing from the trees, branches shifting or swaying with no discernible wind. There was a way trees normally sounded in a breeze, and this was different. The forest seemed to murmur.

  “Over there,” Kendra whispered.

  “Woodlings,” Patton said.

  Off to the right, Seth saw a huge barrel with legs walking along with two wooden figures. The figures were humanoid but not carved in detail like the bearded man at the gate. As Seth watched, the barrel paused, and one woodling turned a spigot in the side of the barrel to fill a bucket. The other figure knelt by a knobby tree with a trowel, carefully digging near a root. The figure with the bucket went and started pouring water near a tall elm.

  As they progressed through the woods, Seth caught sight of other woodlings ranging between three and eight feet in height. Some appeared to be weeding. Others were caring for the trees directly.

  They paused at one point as Patton looked around. “I don’t want to lose the path,” he muttered softly. “This appears to be a crossroads.”

  “How can you tell?” Knox asked.

  “I see a couple of directions in which the way is devoid of trees,” Patton said. “These paths do not curve much.”

  “What’s the problem?” Knox asked.

  “We have been generally heading north, which is the direction we desire,” Patton said. “The pathways here appear to run only east, west, and back south, the way we came.”

  “Flip a coin?” Seth asked.

  “West veers gently north,” Patton said. “We’ll try that way and hope for the best.”

  “I’m thirsty,” Babak said.

  Seth looked back at him.

  “Kidding,” Babak said. “Camel humor.”

  They went a good distance before Patton stopped again. “This time we can go directly north again.”

  They had not gone far before an enormous wooden figure came into view. Astride his horse, Seth came slightly higher than the waist of the wooden giant. It looked sturdily built, though the face and carved details were rather primitive. It held up a crooked hand for them to stop.

  “We’re here with permission,” Patton said, accompanying his words with hand signals. “Just passing through. Treading lightly.”

  The giant pointed off to one side and motioned for them to come.

  “We’re going north,” Patton said, indicating the way ahead.

  The giant shook its head and pointed off to the side once more.

  Patton looked back at the others. “It appears we’re heading east for now.” He gestured to the east and said, “Lead on.”

  The wooden giant began plodding forward. The way twisted and turned, making Seth wonder if this was a path or if the giant was simply improvising a route among the trees. Seth began to notice an increasing number of woodlings. For the first time, the woodlings were noticing them as well. As Seth and the little caravan of riders went by, the wooden figures would come in their direction and follow behind.

  “They’re following us,” Knox quietly said out of the side of his mouth.

  “Are we in trouble?” Kendra wondered.

  “We’ll sort it out,” Patton said.

  Seth kept glancing back. A dozen woodlings expanded to a score. Most were humanoid figures, but a few walking barrels joined the parade as well.

  Up ahead, the giant led them into a clearing. A single enormous oak tree awaited, the trunk rivaling a sequoia, contorted branches spreading across lofty heights. A mob of woodlings surrounded it, tall and stumpy, intricate and plain, though none were as large as the giant guide.

  “What is going on?” Seth mumbled.

  The giant brought the group to a halt not far from the base of the tree. Woodlings crowded around them. Seth hoped that if things went bad, they could make a run for it. A fight would probably not end well.

  A tall, slender woman came around from the far side of the tree, her gown an artful collage of green leaves, her shawl a masterpiece of silken spiderwebs. In her bare feet she stood almost as tall as Patton on his horse.

  “Are you the hamadryad of this tree?” Kendra asked.

  The woman smiled as if to confirm the guess. Then she looked at the woodlings and motioned them away. “Give our visitors some space,” she said in a soothing voice.

  “She should play basketball,” Knox murmured.

  “Seldom do visitors cross our land,” the hamadryad said. “I am Eldanore, a servant of this grove. Your courtesy has been appreciated. We ask of you a favor.”

  “I bet she could dunk without jumping,” Knox muttered.

  Seth motioned for his cousin to zip it.

  “How can we be of service?” Patton asked.

  “Woods like ours have dwindled,” Eldanore said. “Pray, take these seeds and plant them where they might thrive.”

  She held out to Patton a bowl made of stone. “Oak, redwood, and banyan,” he said.

  “Not together,” she advised. “Far from here. Some of the elders worry that our enclosed populations pose a threat to ruminating forests. A single disaster could eradicate so many.”

  “It would be our pleasure,” Patton said.

  “You come from a tree,” Eldanore observed.

  “Indeed I do,” Patton replied. “I took human form for a brief while.”

  “You chose an excellent human,” Eldanore said. “Safe journey.”

  “Might I ask, what is the best route to the Bewilderness from here?” Patton inquired.

  “Yimo will show you the most direct way,” Eldanore said, motioning toward a nearby woodling with a stubby body and legs so long they looked like stilts. “Go in peace.”

  Patton looked back at Seth and the others. “Follow me.”

  Yimo started walking fast enough that the horses needed to trot to keep up. Seth stole several backward glances at the mob of woodlings and the colossal oak. None of the wooden figures followed them.

  As when they had followed the giant, their way through the woods did not seem like a path. The horses stayed at a trot, meaning they made more noise than earlier. They traveled a long distance in silence before Knox spoke. “I don’t see any more woodlings.”

  “There’s Yimo,” Seth pointed out.

  “Besides Yimo,” Knox said.

  “Maybe they’re all back with the hamadryad,” Kendra said.

  “Or working in a different part of the forest,” Seth guessed.
<
br />   “The trees are louder here,” Tanu said. “Might be a reflection of us.”

  Seth looked and listened. The trees did sound creakier. He noticed a particular banyan with many aerial roots drooping down from convoluted branches where shadows seemed to gather thicker than elsewhere. He felt malevolence as he studied it, and it took an effort to look away.

  “A little quieter here,” Seth said, glancing periodically at the ominous tree until it was out of view.

  After some time, Yimo came to a halt and indicated the way ahead. Beyond where he stopped, there was undergrowth, and the trees were not so evenly spaced. The difference was remarkable. It was clear that Yimo intended to go no farther.

  “End of the line,” Patton said, dismounting. “We need to talk.”

  The Bewilderness

  Kendra climbed down from Glory, patting the mare in appreciation. There had been a tense feeling while they were moving through the Sentient Wood, but Glory had performed beautifully.

  “Yimo,” Patton said, accompanying his words with hand motions, “we appreciate your help.”

  The woodling gave a little bow and strode away on its long legs. Everyone huddled around Patton, including the mounts.

  “Our next step is tricky,” Patton said. “The Bewilderness is not directly protected from dragons.”

  “No barriers?” Seth asked.

  “Right,” Patton said. “But dragons do not venture there.”

  “Why not?” Kendra asked.

  “The Bewilderness is incredibly disorienting to many animals and magical creatures,” Patton said. “Dragons especially hate it. They get terribly dizzy and find the whole place deeply disturbing.”

  “Will we get dizzy?” Knox asked.

  “We shouldn’t get dizzy,” Patton said. “But if we’re not careful we’ll definitely get killed.”

  “What’s the danger?” Seth asked.

  “Risenmay dwells at the heart of the Bewilderness,” Patton said. “I can get no more specific than that. I have found her before, but I do not believe I can do so as a stingbulb. Only one of us should try.”

  “Me,” Seth said.

  “Don’t be too hasty,” Patton said. “The person ought to be the one most likely to win Risenmay’s aid. Kendra’s fairykind status makes her the ideal candidate.”

  “Okay,” Kendra said, though part of her would have been happy to let Seth volunteer. “Why just one of us?”

  “The way to Risenmay will vary depending on the person,” Patton said. “Think of it as if there are a thousand right ways to her, and a million wrong ways. Groups tend to argue and get killed.”

  “But don’t we all need to get there?” Kendra asked.

  “If she agrees to help you, Risenmay will summon the rest of us, and we’ll get there easily,” Patton said.

  “If she doesn’t agree to help?” Kendra asked.

  “It gets scary in many ways,” Patton said. “At this point, without her help, I’m not sure if we can reach Stormguard Castle in time.”

  “How do I find her?” Kendra asked.

  “To those who don’t know the secret, the Bewilderness is a death trap,” Patton said. “The trick is simple, but not easy. Once you get inside the Bewilderness, you must always go the direction that feels most wrong.”

  “The way that feels wrong?” Kendra checked.

  “If you go the way that feels right, it will lead you into a fatal trap,” Patton said. “I know of poisonous thorns, covered pits, monsters with limited domains—and those are just the dangers I have witnessed or heard about.”

  “What if I don’t feel anything?” Kendra asked.

  “Going in a neutral direction will also take you the wrong way and eventually kill you. Inside the Bewilderness, always go against your instincts.”

  “That sounds difficult,” Lomo said.

  “It can be,” Patton said. “Take it slow. Beware of finding a way that feels wrong and deciding it must be right. Once it feels right, it will be wrong. Only keep going if it feels truly wrong.”

  “I’m terrible for this,” Kendra said. “I overthink all the time.”

  “Truth,” Seth said.

  “That could be an advantage if you take it slow,” Patton said. “Don’t advance if it seems like the right way, or if you have reason to suspect you will get where you want to go. Don’t head off in a random direction. Make sure it truly feels wrong. As hopeless as possible. And you will eventually make it.”

  “No horse?” Kendra asked.

  “You don’t want an animal in there,” Patton said. “It’s harder for them to work against strong instincts.”

  “The camel would rather be a bystander,” Babak said.

  “We’re thinking horses,” Charlemagne pointed out. “We can play the same mind games as you humans.”

  “You could succeed as an intelligent horse,” Patton said. “You might be able to betray your instincts. But if a thinking horse goes with Kendra, your routes will not match, and you will confuse each other.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kendra said. “I should probably get going.”

  “Start promptly,” Patton said. “But don’t hurry. Take your time and get it right.”

  “Meaning get it wrong,” Seth said. “Get every step wrong.”

  Kendra nodded. She had lived her life trying to get things right. Good grades mattered to her. So did pleasing her parents. She often earned perfect scores on tests. Couldn’t she reverse the tendency? Get this perfectly wrong? She looked at the horses, the camel, the rabbit, her friends, and her brother. “See you soon.”

  She turned and marched away from the Sentient Wood. She told herself not to look back. There was no way returning to Patton and the others was the right direction.

  She stopped.

  If it felt like the guaranteed wrong way, didn’t she have to go back?

  She turned around.

  Seth, Lomo, Tanu, Knox, Patton, Glory, Noble, Charlemagne, Rodolfo, Captain, Thistleton, and Babak all stood watching her. Calvin was too small to see at this distance. She wanted to return to them. That felt safe.

  What felt worse was going onward.

  And so she did.

  Every step away from her brother and her friends took her closer to a point where she might not have the ability to find her way back. And that felt terrible.

  She waded through undergrowth that sometimes snagged at her pant legs. The rising and falling terrain soon left her surrounded by trees large and small. Up ahead, two low hills came into view, with a natural path leading between them. It was the obvious way to proceed.

  Kendra paused.

  Less convenient would be climbing the hills, but she would get a good view at the top. It seemed like a smart idea, so she disregarded it. Heading back toward her brother still felt comforting. Going left or right showed no obvious advantage. As she considered both more carefully, she had a bad feeling about going left. It would lead into some thick trees that would take away her lines of sight. The more she thought about it, the worse it felt.

  So she went left. As Kendra progressed, it continued to feel like a bad idea, until she was inside a dense grove of smallish trees. There was little undergrowth and no clear paths. Before long, she began to lose her sense of direction. Was she curving north? South? Back toward where she had entered? There was a sameness among these trees that left her disoriented.

  She figured she would just keep going as straight as she could. That seemed the most reasonable choice under the circumstances.

  And Kendra stopped.

  What felt worst? Doubling back.

  She reversed direction. As she walked, she felt unease about veering left, so she did. It kept feeling bad, and she kept going. Something in her gut warned her to go back the way she had come. She ignored it. Every step felt like a bad idea. So bad that it had to be
the right way.

  Kendra stopped. What really felt unsettling was going right. The realization that it felt bad did not make it feel good.

  She turned right and tried to keep going straight. There were several other adjustments before she emerged from the trees, uncertain what direction she was facing. The sun remained too high for her to get oriented.

  Onward she traveled, meticulously aware of whatever direction felt the worst. She shoved through denser underbrush instead of choosing easier ways. She traversed foreboding thickets and clambered up awkward slopes. She waded through gooey mud when drier paths were available. Part of Kendra worried she was taking the advice too far, making her path unnecessarily difficult, but if Patton was right, she always needed to pursue the way that seemed worst to her. And that was sometimes very inconvenient.

  Time passed, the sun slowly sliding across the sky. She felt lost, and she was certain she was only getting more lost, killing time when she needed to hurry.

  Kendra reached a place where all directions were more or less open. Any direction seemed as good as any other, including doubling back. What could she do when all ways felt equal? She tried setting off in one direction or another, but kept halting because it felt fine.

  Then she noticed the hole.

  It barely looked large enough for a person to squeeze inside. Maybe a burrow for a badger or some other medium-sized animal. Did badgers have burrows?

  Climbing into the hole undeniably seemed like a really foolish way to proceed. It clearly would not go anywhere—just a few feet down to an unseen dead end.

  All other ways seemed much better. This would be a complete waste of time.

  Sighing, Kendra got down on her hands and knees and peered into the dark hole. It went down at an angle, curving out of sight. She could see no end.

  It truly seemed like a horrible idea.

  Looking around, she hoped some direction would feel worse. Nothing came close.

  Lying down flat, Kendra squirmed into the hole. It was uncomfortably snug. She had to worm forward on her elbows, swiveling her shoulders, pushing with her feet. Every inch forward felt like a bad idea. Would she be able to back up if the tunnel came to an end? The thought made her claustrophobic. Spindly roots tickled her head and the back of her neck. She could taste the soil in the air.