Forest of the Forbidden

by W. J. May

  On the other side of the door was a stone hallway, glowing with line after line of candlelight. Rhen flexed his fingers, fighting the pull of the fires. The heat tickled his skin, called for it. He clenched his fists, holding his hands behind his back, and followed Cal a few feet down into the next room on the right, Cal's bedchamber. It was draped with heavy tapestries depicting knights on horseback, the ancestors of Roninhythe. His walls sparkled with candlelight too, but it was easier to manage, especially with the cool wind blowing through the open windows, forcing the heat outdoors.

  Rhen sat down in one of Cal's leather chairs, sinking into the soft cushions, and let his head fall back. This was what the forest was missing. A nice comfortable spot to rest.

  "Rough journey? Why were you so late getting back? I was sure something had happened."

  "Something did happen," Rhen said, looking up. Cal sat in the chair opposite him and poured two glasses of wine, nodding along—a signal he wanted more information. "I picked up an Arpapajo, an oldworlder. He's a just a boy, but Cal, all of them are gone."

  His friend looked up sharply. "All of who, Rhen?" Cal had slipped back to using his nickname—a sure sign Rhen had been forgiven.

  "The oldworlders. Wiped out, dead, with their village burned to the ground. All except for one, a boy named Jin who I brought to Roninhythe with me."

  "But who would kill them? Who would bother?"

  "The Ourthuri."

  Cal rolled his eyes for a second time. "Rhen, with all due respect, you can't really think they would travel all the way from the Golden Isles just to kill some natives running around in animal skins waving around sticks."

  Rhen jerked back, offset by the harsh description. An ugly shudder ran down his arms. He had probably heard similar things before, he'd probably said them, but Jin's face popped into his mind—the lonely boy, the cunning boy, the curious boy—all different facets of the person he had come to know. No, the Arpapajo had been much more than oldworlders with sticks, of that Rhen was sure.

  "Calen," Rhen said, his voice low and harsh—too harsh, he realized as Cal flinched, looking wounded. Rhen took a deep breath, trying to pull back on the anger bubbling in his veins. It was not his friend's fault, not entirely. "Cal," he said, more gently but still with iron, "I saw them. I fought them. The Ourthuri are here."

  "Then we must notify the king immediately."

  "My thoughts exactly," Rhen said, drumming his fingers on the table, waiting. After a moment, he sat up. "Well, won't you get some paper? I just scaled a castle wall. I wasn't exactly carrying a scroll and quill in my breeches."

  "Right," Cal jumped up, moving into action. He placed the supplies in front of Rhen on the table, but Rhen just breathed heavily and pushed them across the table.

  "Save me from another lecture from the king, won't you? You of all people know I never paid attention during calligraphy classes, not when the training yard was right below the window."

  "Got some good welts on the back of your head for it too."

  They grinned at each other, jumping back in time for a moment, looking five years younger and far less responsible.

  "My dearest father," Cal said.

  Rhen choked on his wine, about to furiously correct Cal, when he saw the teasing glint in his eye.

  He's spending too much time around me, Rhen thought, raising his eyebrows.

  Cal coughed. "My King."

  Rhen nodded, listening to the scratch of the quill on parchment. As a boy, he had nightmares about that noise, but knowing this letter would help save his family, the sound soothed him.

  Until it stopped.

  He sat up, watching Cal drop the quill back into the jar of ink.

  "What?"

  "I'm just thinking of the best way to tell the king that his youngest son snuck out against his orders to search the forest for enemies. On his own. Without a guard."

  Rhen chewed his lip.

  "I see..." He said slowly. "Why don't I just tell you the whole story, and you can think of what to write tomorrow, when I'm gone."

  "Where are you going?"

  Rhen waved his hand haphazardly through the air, pushing the question off until later, and started telling Cal everything that had happened. The fire. The Arpapajo village. Jin. The fight. And finally, the docks.

  "This sounds like war," Cal said, grim.

  Rhen just nodded. He had said as much to himself days earlier.

  "So, naturally, you're sailing across the sea to face the enemy alone once more."

  "Naturally," Rhen deadpanned without batting an eyelash.

  "I'm serious, Whylrhen," Cal responded, worry quivering in his voice. Formal again, Rhen sighed, sitting straighter.

  "Cal, enough worrying. I'll be sailing with Captain Pygott on the Old Maid—she's an old warship. We both know he pirated her from the royal fleet years ago when the new ships were built, a gift from the king to his retired captain. He's an honest merchant now. There won't be any trouble."

  "It's not him I'm worried about."

  "The Ourthuri? I’d like to see that old king try to kill a Son of Whyl, really, I would. My father and the other lords would crush him in an open battle."

  "But you're missing one point in that argument—by then, you'd be dead."

  "Most spies end up in the grave."

  "Most spies aren't princes."

  Rhen stood. They were back to where they always were—arguing like ten year olds again, like brothers. He loved it and hated it at the same time. Two brothers was quite enough, what Rhen needed was a friend who would jump into the action with him. Not another lecture.

  "Will you watch after Ember? I'll drop her off at the stables before I leave tomorrow." Cal nodded—he already expected this charge. "I'll send word when I've arrived safely back home, to Rayfort."

  "No need, I'll see you soon enough," Cal answered. Rhen scrunched his brows, trying to think of why Cal would be traveling to Rayfort, the King's City.

  Seeing the confusion, Cal jumped into action, pulling a piece of parchment from the stack on the table. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you—Awenine gave birth. You're an uncle."

  "Awenine!" Rhen grabbed the paper, ripping it from his friend's hands to inspect the royal seal. It was true. After years of trying, years of heartbreak and stillborn babies, his sister-in-law, wife of his eldest brother Whyltarin and future Queen of Whylkin, had finally had a child.

  He was an uncle.

  To a baby boy.

  A new prince of Whylkin.

  Warmth sprouted in his chest, spreading like a bubble, filling him up, and bursting down his limbs. A child in the palace. It has been far too long, Rhen thought, pushing the small knot of dread out of his mind.

  This was a good thing. A happy thing. And nothing would ruin it—Rhen would make sure of that.

  He gripped Cal's arm, shaking it, needing some way to pour some of this happiness out of his body and into the world.

  Cal slapped his back. "Congratulations."

  "Thank you, dear friend." He held on for one moment longer. "I'll see you in Rayfort for the Naming."

  "For the Naming," Cal repeated.

  And then, as they had done a dozen times before, the two friends prepared for Rhen's escape. Cal pulled a second rope from the chest beside his bed and peeked into the hall.

  Empty.

  Rhen followed Cal down the corridor.

  Another check, this time to the door outside.

  Clear.

  Rhen moved past Cal, stepping over the wall and gripping the rope as he silently made his descent. Cal waited at the top, keeping watch for any guards.

  As soon as Rhen's feet touched straw, he tugged on the rope, and Cal pulled it back up toward him. When everything was done, they met eyes.

  At the same time, both men formed a fist with their right hands and placed their arms across their chests, nodding the formal goodbye of the knights of Whylkin—something they had done hundreds of times before.

  Breaking formality, Rh
en sent one more wave up to the sky as Cal disappeared behind the stone.

  Rhen turned, tired. All of his traveling had finally hit his bones, making them ache, and all he thought about was the warm body in the bed four feet above his head.

  Swiftly, he climbed back through the window, reset his rope in the loose rock, and stripped off his shirt, settling in under the covers.

  An airy sigh kissed his ear as he sank into the cushions, draping his arm over Reana's body. She wasn't his wife. She wasn't his sweetheart. And though she would never realize it, she wasn't even his lover.

  Rhen had none of those things. The older he got, and the more palace ladies that were thrust before his eyes, the more Rhen thought this was as good as it got.

  Soft skin under his palm with no strings attached.

  Tomorrow, he would be journeying once more. On a ship. In the middle of the ocean. Without a woman in sight.

  Sailors were good, crude fun. Captain Pygott was a fantastic storyteller, a very loyal friend. And Jin was an entertaining new companion.

  But none of those equaled a woman.

  As sleep overtook him, Rhen hugged Reana closer, dreaming that maybe she was something more.

  By morning, he would forget that the wish had even existed.

  ––––––––

  7

  Jinji

  Open Ocean

  ––––––––

  Eight days on a boat had taught Jinji one thing about Rhen—he had an inherent disregard for clothing.

  As soon as they lost view of the city, Rhen had lost need of his shirt. He stripped it off to join the other men in securing ropes, loosening ropes, and moving parts and pieces that Jinji had no understanding of. Within an hour, his pale skin was red and raw, but he seemed to like it despite the pain.

  And she had thought that would be it.

  But no.

  Once again, around Rhen, Jinji had not been so lucky because later that night she discovered where her sleeping quarters were. Not in the front of the ship with the rest of the men, which she had at first been thrilled by...until the captain led her and Rhen to his first mate's cabin, a small wooden hole with one bed and a hammock (as she later learned it was called). Rhen immediately fell into the bed, leaving Jinji in the doorway weighing the options. Try to squeeze in beside him—not happening—or sleep in the odd fabric hanging on the other side of the room.

  The second option was the clear winner, so she had slugged over and awkwardly climbed in. Immediately, a wave of happiness had rolled down her limbs. For the first time since boarding this ship, the death trap as she thought of it, the queasy feeling in her stomach had stopped. Instead of rocking back and forth, unsteady and uncomfortable, the hammock swayed with the ship, doing all of the moving for her.

  She remembered settling in, tossing and turning until her legs curved at the perfect angle. Moments later, upon hearing a snore, Jinji had mistakenly looked over toward Rhen, only to be greeted by the sight of his bare butt slipping free of the sheets.

  Her cheeks had grown hot and her limbs stiff. With a groan, she had flipped on her side to stare instead at the wooden knots on the wall. But out of sight did not mean out of mind, and the awareness of a naked man in the same room with her had left Jinji unnerved for the rest of the night.

  Eight days later, she had gotten slightly more used to it. Then again, she might have gotten better at just closing her eyes, feigning sleep, and doing her best to ignore it.

  Despite all of this, Jinji had to admit that a part of her was starting to have fun.

  Not at first.

  Not even at the middle.

  But now, whatever part of her story it was, a little bit of joy had nestled into her heart, finally warming a place that had been cold for too long.

  The journey from the forest had been heart wrenching, the trek through the city surreal, the first days on the boat sickening. But now, Jinji thought, staring at the waves splashing against the ship, now it feels a little exciting.

  She had found her favorite part of the ship—the front, or the bow she reminded herself. Right behind the great wooden spike protruding from the deck, like an armless tree sprouting from the wood, that was where she liked to stand. Right in the center, the seam, where the water parted ways and glided around them. There, the wind whipped past her face, the ocean sprawled before her, and the entire world seemed to welcome her with open arms.

  At the front of the ship, where no one else liked to stand, the spirits would dance just for her. Moving faster than she had ever dreamed, the spirit strands spiraled into a vortex of colors, clashing and crashing just for her eyes to see. The yellows of the air laced with the blues of the sea, weaving into a bright turquoise, a color as beautiful as any she had seen before. When Rhen stood close by, the spirits danced around his figure, as bright red as his skin, and it stood out like a beacon of heat against the cool colors behind him.

  None of the others on the ship were shrouded with spirits as he was, no one in the city had been either, and Jinji was starting to understand that there was something he was hiding, a part of him that was special just like her.

  And she ached to know what it was.

  Ached for something to make her feel not quite so alone. For someone she could share that part of herself with, even if that someone seemed made to annoy her.

  Constantly.

  The man had turned the entire ship against her. As soon as they realized how easy it was to make the small boy Jin uncomfortable, all of the crew joined in the fun. Jinji had never seen so much of the male anatomy before, and she hoped to never see so much of it again.

  "What are you thinking so hard on, Jin?" A voice said, interrupting her ruminations.

  Jinji turned, smiling when she realized that it was Captain Pygott standing beside her, greeting her with a warm smile barely visible through the coarse strands of his thick white beard. His leathery skin crinkled around his eyes, blue just like the ocean he lived on. The rest of his hair was secured in a tight braid at the nape of his neck, hidden under the rim of his wide black hat. It was topped with a great blooming feather like one she had never seen before—soft and airy, not coarse and firm like the ones they had used for arrows back home. That it never blew off his head seemed like a magical feat to her, but no one else was so amazed by it.

  Unlike Rhen, the captain had a distinct regard for clothing—colorful ones that popped against the sea. Deep purples and bright oranges, all decorated with some sort of bauble that sparkled in her eye. In the sun, he was almost too brilliant to look at, but Jinji thought he might like it that way. He stood out amongst the crew, the clear leader, and they all listened to him.

  During the second day on the ship, Rhen had told her that the captain used to sail warships for the king and then one day, out of the blue, he just left, taking this ship and some of its crew with him. The king asked no questions, but everyone else in the kingdom did. Rumors swirled that he had fallen in the love with the queen and was banished from the royal court when the king found out.

  Rhen claimed he knew the truth—that the man was old and alone and simply wanted an easier life, but there was still a part of his story that seemed falsified.

  Jinji didn’t push to know the truth, because no matter what, she liked this captain. He was a kind man and a breath of fresh air. And she loved the way he told her stories, how he helped her escape.

  "I'm thinking that perhaps sailing is not so bad as I thought," Jinji said, looking back out at the water.

  "I told you those sea legs would come eventually." He moved next to her, leaning on the front banister with his forearms. "Look at that, wide open water with not a cloud in the sky. It's the perfect day to be a sailor, Jin, the perfect day. A hundred little boys in the kingdom are looking out of market stalls, enviously daydreaming that they were where we stand. Remember that."

  "I will," she said softly. He had a way of making every moment feel special.

  "I was one of those boys once, did yo
u know that?"

  She shook her head, looking at his profile while his eyes glittered with reflections of the sun. There was still a spark in him, one that came out mostly when he was spinning tales. A weaver of sorts, almost like with her illusions, but his were webs of words that ensnared her mind in wonder. Over the past few days, he'd told her all about the kings of old—Whyl the Conqueror, the kings before and after him. Stories of knights and princesses, of love and loss, of honor. But never anything personal.

  Until now.

  "Yes, I was one of those boys, working for a butcher but dreaming of the sea. Day after day, always the same. Yelling over the other vendors, shouting our goods out to the crowd, fighting for the smallest penny. And the smell, the smell was so thick I swore it had seeped into my bones to haunt me for the rest of my life. Until one day, everything changed." He paused dramatically, drumming his fingers on the wood, as though the humming air would tell his story for him.

  "What happened?" Jinji asked, losing patience.

  The older man grinned.

  "One day, I saw a little boy playing in the streets, running through the crowds, looking behind his back every couple of steps—a little boy in a bright red shirt. I knew exactly who he was, so I snatched him up, holding him tightly despite his protests, and waited for the guards to come. That little boy was a prince at the time, but he is the king now, and he was trying to run away. But I stopped him, and the old king granted me one wish. Do you know what I wished for?"

  "A ship?" Jinji asked. He laughed.

  "No, nothing so grand. A job cleaning the decks, but eventually it turned into a ship of my own."

  Jinji looked back out at the water. It was a wonderful story, but it seemed too perfect—too happy to be real. "Is that true?"

  "Stories are hardly ever true, but they do sound nice." He shrugged, nudging her shoulder. "Would you prefer the truth?"

  Jinji leaned forward, looking out toward the horizon. The truth was hard. It was dirty and painful and it left scars. But it was real—it was human. And sometimes, just sometimes, it could be the best thing in the world.

  She nodded.

  "The truth is that my father was a captain, and his father, and his father's father, and all the fathers in my family, probably from the beginning of time, were sailors. It's in my blood. People are born to this world with their destiny already laid out before them, with a future already set—they only get to fill in the details. That's the truth, Jin.