The Secrets of the Wild Wood

by Tonke Dragt

  Slowly, he began to translate: “The Lord of Vorgóta commanded Tongan the smith to make three objects: a sword, a mallet and a gong. The sword has been written about elsewhere; the mallet is for beating the gong. And the gong is hung in such a way that it can be heard for miles around. I shall tell my faithful followers how to find the Vorgóta Gong , so that they can warn the guardians of the Kingdom of Unauwen if danger should threaten from the east. To do so, they will have to pass along the Second Great Road, where I will never set foot again.”

  The Master of the Wild Wood raised his head and said, “The Second Great Road is now known as the Road of Ambuscade. But the Vorgóta Gong still hangs in the same place, one of the western foothills of the Great Mountains. You may have only a small lead on Eviellan, and from the mountains it could take a long time to reach a place where people live. But if you bang that gong, people will come to you. The people of Unauwen have surely not forgotten that any man who bangs the gong is calling upon everyone to rise up against great danger.”

  “And… where is this gong?” whispered Tiuri.

  “That, too, is written here,” replied Tehalon. “I shall read it out to you, word for word. I have never travelled that way myself, but I think it is indicated clearly enough.”

  He spoke the sentences aloud, repeated them, and made Tiuri and Piak say the words after him.

  Across the mountains, then down below.

  Wide path through forest of pine.

  Take a right turn into the valley deep

  where flow the Twin Cascades.

  Follow the stream to where it disappears.

  Then find a sign to show the way.

  Two paths – one leads to the gong,

  hidden song, Vorgóta Gong.

  When they had eaten and rested, Tiuri and Piak were given new clothes, so that they looked just like the Men in Green. They were also provided with everything they needed for their journey: sturdy boots, a fur in case it was cold up on the mountains, provisions and a length of rope. They were both armed, Piak with King Unauwen’s sword and Tiuri with a dagger that Jaro had given him. They said farewell to Ardanwen.

  In the clear night they began their journey: from the Green Grottos to the south, across the Green River and then up. Tehalon led them without hesitation, slowly in the dark and then more quickly when it became light. A short distance beyond the river’s source, the path disappeared into the mountains, and they walked some of the way by torchlight.

  They passed through caves of stalactites, so beautiful that the friends couldn’t help stopping to look. “Like drops of water turned to stone,” said Piak, “and cascades made out of rock.”

  “This is the hidden path,” said Tehalon. “I spoke the truth to the King of Eviellan when he came to claim you, Tiuri!”

  Tiuri and Piak misunderstood his words for a moment. They froze.

  “I told him you would step onto a hidden path – and that is exactly what you are doing now, even though it is not as he imagined! But I should add that I knew he would misinterpret my words, which I’m sure you have not.”

  For the first time, Tiuri thought he saw a hint of a smile on Tehalon’s lips.

  “Does this path go underground all the way?” asked Piak shakily. He preferred to walk along ordinary mountain paths.

  “No,” said Tehalon. “In an hour you will see daylight again. If we speed up a little, that is.”

  He was proved correct and Piak was glad to be back outside. Now he was on familiar ground!

  “No more trees grow here,” said Tehalon. “We have left the Wild Wood behind.”

  The next morning they found themselves between two mountain ridges. Still some distance away, but seeming closer, the Tarntop stood before them.

  Tehalon stopped and said, “Now there’s no way you can get lost. If you keep following this path, you will come to the Road of Ambuscade, beyond the last major guard post. From there to the pass it is only a short way. At the pass itself there are also guards, who are changed every day as far as I know. But I can tell you now that your path is not as dangerous as I made it seem at first.”

  “How many guards are there?” asked Tiuri.

  “I do not know,” said Tehalon. “Not many, two, maybe three. You’ll have to work out how best to outwit them and pass by unnoticed.”

  “Why have they never found this path?” asked Piak.

  “You’ll soon see for yourself,” replied Tehalon. “The path comes to a sudden end at a precipice. You’ll see the Road of Ambuscade down below. You have rope so that you can climb down; as a boy from the mountains, you’ll know what to do. Do not speak too much or too loudly, for you are approaching the enemy’s territory. That is all. I shall bid you both farewell – and I truly mean what I say. May you both fare well. And be sure to find the gong!”

  He turned and hurried off. Before either of the friends could say anything, he was already far away. They stood and watched him go.

  “The Master of the Wild Wood!” said Piak. “I’m sure we’ll never meet another man like him.”

  Then, together, Tiuri and Piak continued their journey towards the road that would lead them over the mountains to the west.

  PART SEVEN

  SIR RISTRIDIN

  1 THE PRISONER

  The road across the Great Mountains to the west, the Second Great Road that had once again been opened up… When would Eviellan’s armies come thundering along it to conquer the Kingdom of Unauwen? When would the wickedness that lurked within the Wild Wood flare up and spread like wildfire, taking everyone to the east and the west by surprise?

  “Always the same thoughts,” the prisoner said to himself, as he paced his room – six steps from the window to one wall, and then five steps from there to the other. He had already walked miles like this, in this room and in another, and also inside a dark and gloomy cell.

  He stopped and looked at the window, which was so high up that he could not see outside. Of course he could have climbed onto a chair but all he would have seen was a courtyard and one or two guards.

  What should I do? he thought despondently. He had made every effort to keep his spirits up, so that he would be ready to go straight into action as soon as he was free again. At first, he had tried hard to escape. Once he had attacked the servant who brought him food. But, of course, it had done no good, and since then they had always brought his food in pairs. After that, his escape attempts had become more cunning. He had managed to pull up a floor tile and had started to dig a tunnel beneath, using a spoon and a nail as tools. He knew very well that his chances of getting out of this castle were very low, surrounded as it was by walls and a moat, but at least it gave him something to do. Worst of all was doing nothing. His hard work had been wasted, anyway, as one day they had taken him to a different room. Yes, taken him, like a man with no will of his own, him, Ristridin of the South, the hero of so many adventures.

  Him, Ristridin, caught in a trap, a trap he had walked right into! He had survived the Red Riders’ attack, escaped their pursuit, and all on his own he had found the way through the winter wilderness – driven onwards by only one thought: to let the world know what he had discovered in the Wild Wood.

  But how could he have suspected that the Lord of Islan was conspiring with the enemy?

  Sir Ristridin sat on his bed and buried his face in his hands. He was reliving how he had arrived at Islan, exhausted and hounded by the enemy, and how he had blown his horn and been admitted to the castle.

  “Close the gate, pull up the drawbridge!” he had panted.

  They had done so, and made him a prisoner. Soon after, his enemies had appeared at the gate – men in red, green and black – and asked the Lord of Islan to hand him over.

  Sir Fitil had not granted that request, though; he apparently had at least that much honour left.

  And now, thought Ristridin, I am locked up in Islan. Sir Fitil said he would treat me as a guest, but he did not dare to look at me. He has violated the laws of hospitalit
y and betrayed the trust of his king. If only I could just speak to him again, and convince him that what he is doing is wrong. I need to talk to him, or perhaps his daughter…

  He had once spoken to the lady, when he was being held in a room that looked out onto a walled garden. One morning – it was still winter – she was walking there in the snow, and he had beckoned to her through the bars of the window and spoken to her. As she had listened to him, her beautiful face had turned pale, but she had not answered. And the next day he had been taken to another room.

  Sir Ristridin looked at one of the bedposts, into which he had carved lines, one for each day. The days had become weeks, the weeks months. And every day was the same… no, once, not that long ago, he had been ordered to go with the soldiers to an underground cell, a damp dungeon, far from the bustling life of the castle. He had wondered why he had been moved, particularly when he’d been brought back here a few days later. Might there have been guests in the castle who could not be allowed to suspect that he was there?

  Now it was spring. Time was passing, while he waited… Waited? What for? Again he buried his head in his hands.

  They expect me back at Castle Ristridin in the spring, he thought. When I don’t come, they’ll go out looking for me.

  That thought was not a new one either, but this time it gave him no hope. He felt as if he had become years older, that his life was over. And if his captivity went on any longer, it would be too late.

  Besides, they would be looking for him in the forest. And perhaps they, too, would be attacked, killed like Ilmar, like Arwaut and all the others. As far as he knew, he was the only one to have escaped.

  The door opened, but Sir Ristridin did not move. Then he realized that it was not one of his guards who had entered the room. He looked up and saw the lady standing there, the Daughter of Islan. Again he noted that she was very beautiful, but her face was serious and her attitude was haughty, almost defensive. Surely, the thought flashed through his mind, she would rather listen to courtly words of love than to what I have to say to her.

  He said nothing, though, but stood up and waited for her to speak. It was a moment before he heard her voice, a whisper, “Sir Ristridin…”

  2 LADY ISADORO AND SIR FITIL

  Sir Ristridin did not move and his attitude was just as haughty as hers when he responded, “Yes, my lady?”

  She stepped into the room and said quietly, “Once you spoke to me and I would not listen. But now…” She fell silent.

  Ristridin said nothing, but merely stared at her until she looked down at her feet. Then she lifted her face and said, “Why do you not answer?”

  “What answer do you expect from me, my lady?” said the knight. “I have nothing to say.”

  She frowned. “Why are you making this so difficult for me?” she said, sounding almost indignant.

  “Forgive me, my lady,” said Ristridin, “but how can I, a prisoner, make anything difficult for you?” Then he saw her eyes fill with tears and he added a little less coldly, “My words carry no weight at all… in this place. As you must know.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” she said flatly.

  She turned away, and he took a step towards her, suddenly afraid she would leave. But she closed the door and said calmly, “I know you have been wrongfully imprisoned. But my father could have handed you over to the… to a Black Knight with a Red Shield, who has been here twice to claim you.”

  “Shame on your father if he had done so,” said Ristridin.

  “But he did not!” she said fiercely, her face flushing.

  “Do you know who he is, this Black Knight?”

  “I will not answer that question.”

  “But you do know what would have happened to me if your father had done as he asked. And so I must be grateful that the Lord of Islan has locked me up in his castle – Sir Fitil, who serves a master you do not even dare to name!”

  “That is…” she began.

  “That is the truth,” said Ristridin.

  “Yes,” she said, the haughtiness leaving her face. “It is the truth.”

  “And what do you intend to do about this truth?” asked Ristridin quietly.

  “I don’t know!” she said. “That’s why I came to see you.”

  She’s still so young, thought Ristridin, and his expression softened.

  “If you were free,” she said, “what would you do?”

  “Free?” repeated Ristridin. That thought made him take a deep breath. Free! But then he added suspiciously, “Why are you asking me that question? What do you want from me?”

  “You do not trust me,” she said bitterly. “And I do not blame you.” She shook her hair back over her shoulders, all uncertainty gone. “Listen to me,” she continued. “My father has promised to keep you prisoner here until… I don’t know exactly when.”

  “To whom did he promise that, to the Knight with the Red Shield, the Master of the Tarnburg?”

  “Yes. If we let you go, he will never forgive us. And you – if you were free – could you ever forgive us?”

  “I cannot answer that question right now, my lady,” said Ristridin. “Again, what do you want? All I can say to you is that I am being held here because I know too much about the Wild Wood and about the danger that threatens us all.”

  “That threatens the Kingdom of Unauwen!”

  “Is that not enough? Do you truly know nothing about that land, which is known far and wide as the most beautiful land on earth? But the danger threatens us, too. The King of Eviellan is the enemy of all those who strive for good.”

  “Sssh!” she said.

  “Why do you fear him so? He is not yet in power. Or is he?”

  “No…” she whispered.

  “But he will come and he will triumph. Unless the Black Knight is unmasked and his identity is revealed to all. And when I am free, I intend to do exactly that!”

  The fire vanished from Ristridin’s voice as he added, “If it is not too late.”

  “Perhaps there is still time,” she whispered. “Perhaps you can persuade my father to let you go. That’s why I came here. I want you to speak to each other. Oh, I pray that he will let you go! You are the only one who can erase some of the shame we have brought upon ourselves. Oh, please forgive us!”

  Ristridin held out his hand, but she stepped back, her face suddenly pale, and cried out, “Do not say anything! Do not look upon me with such pity. You do not know what has happened!”

  A wave of anxiety washed over Ristridin. “Tell me,” he said sharply.

  “Friends of yours… They came here, asking about you…”

  “Who?”

  “Sir Bendu, and Evan, and Sir Tiuri with his squire.”

  “Did something happen to them?”

  “Tiuri is… Sir Bendu and Evan left, for Deltaland.”

  “Deltaland?” exclaimed Ristridin. “But Tiuri… was it the young Tiuri?”

  “Yes, Tiuri with the White Shield. He went into the forest with his squire… and someone else, a friend…”

  Ristridin roughly grabbed her hand. “And?” he growled. “Have they disappeared, too? Were they attacked, like my men? Are they… dead?”

  She pulled her hand away. “No!” she cried. “Not dead! But captured. The squire escaped, though, and no one knows where he is. The Black Knight doesn’t even know he exists.”

  Ristridin rubbed his forehead.

  “So, somewhere out there, someone is wandering free, a squire who also knows about the secrets of the Wild Wood,” he said slowly. “Now I understand! Take me to your father. This instant!”

  *

  Soon after that, Sir Ristridin was standing before the Lord of Islan – and it was the prisoner who was in charge of the situation. Various emotions flashed across Sir Fitil’s face: fear, anger, shame… Lady Isadoro stood beside him, more composed than her father.

  Ristridin had now heard what had happened – that Tiuri and his squire had gone into the wood with a friend, a peculiar vagabond wh
o seemed to know something about what was going on. Sir Fitil had sent his men to capture them and bring them back to Islan. But the Red Riders had beaten them to it, and had taken Tiuri and his friend to the west. The squire had not been with them, though. The men of Islan had chased after him, but he had escaped. They had informed their master about the events a few days ago.

  “And so,” said Ristridin caustically, “you have realized it may well be pointless to keep me imprisoned. After all, there’s a chance that someone else will betray your secret! And the King of Eviellan will still hold you responsible.”

  “The Lord of the Tarnburg knows nothing about this squire,” said Sir Fitil. “He was not with his friends when they were captured.”

  “So he has a better chance of reaching civilization,” said Ristridin. “But the others… do you ever think about them? You are also to blame for their fate! Tiuri… I know him. He was destined for greatness… he was a knight even before he was knighted…”

  “I only wanted to keep him prisoner here,” began Sir Fitil, “until…”

  “Until your master has made his move!” Ristridin interrupted him.

  “He is not my master!” cried Fitil, turning even redder. “And he is also well disposed towards the Kingdom of Dagonaut. The fight is between him and King Unauwen alone! I never meant any harm…”

  “I could kill you for those words!” said Ristridin, his eyes flashing. “You meant no harm? But you allowed Eviellan to take up residence here and grow in power. You meant no harm? But when I told you that my men had been slaughtered, you turned a deaf ear. You meant no harm? But you allowed Sir Tiuri to go into the forest, and your only excuse is that all you would have done was hold him captive. I would rather hear you say that you did in fact mean harm!”