The Secrets of the Wild Wood

by Tonke Dragt

  “Sir… Bendu?” said Tiuri.

  “Do not ask why and how!” said the jester. “Sir Bendu’s name was mentioned, as was that of Ristridin, who apparently sent him.”

  The two friends were most surprised by this news and bombarded Tirillo with questions. But he could not tell them much more.

  Then the lady of the castle spoke. “So we shall soon say farewell,” she said. “Then this is the right moment to tell Sir Tiuri I wish to give him something before he leaves.”

  “To give me something, my lady?” said Tiuri. “You have already given me so much, hospitality, care…”

  “Hush,” said the lady. “Just now, as I came in, I heard what you said. And so… wait a moment.”

  She left the room and soon returned with a large sword in her hands. Stopping in front of Tiuri, she looked at him with a grave expression.

  “This,” she said, “is the Sword of Vorgóta, forged by Tongan the smith, who also made the gong. My husband carried it until his death, as did his forefathers before him. I have no sons to inherit it, and I believe you are the right knight to carry it. After all, you beat the Vorgóta Gong with Tongan’s mallet. They belong together: gong, mallet and sword. Here, take the sword and may it help you and make you strong in every battle!”

  Tiuri bowed respectfully as he took the precious gift. He could not manage any more than those two words either: “Thank you!” But they came from the bottom of his heart.

  “I will also give you my husband’s white shield when you set off,” said the lady. “And so you will once again carry the colour you have earned.”

  She had still not finished speaking, though, because then she turned to Piak. “You have a sword,” she said, “and I have no other heirloom to present to you. May I therefore give you something of my own, as a reminder of your days at Vorgóta?” She took a finely crafted gold chain from her neck. “I shall hang it around your neck for now,” she said. “But you can keep it to give one day to the girl you want to marry.”

  Piak blushed. “My deepest thanks, my lady,” he said. “But I think I would rather keep it myself. I don’t know anyone I could give something so beautiful to.”

  “Wait a few years,” said the lady, “and see if you still feel the same way.”

  They laughed, partly to conceal their emotions. They were indeed magnificent gifts.

  “The Sword of Vorgóta is famous,” said Tirillo. “It is often mentioned in our chronicles.”

  Later, when they were sitting comfortably together, Tirillo told them some of the stories that were connected to the sword. “So you see,” he concluded, “it is a reminder not only of great deeds, but also of good ones, which certainly cannot be said of every sword. All too many weapons have an aura of evil clinging to them.”

  “Do you know of any evil swords?” asked Piak. He loved listening to such tales.

  “Oh yes. There’s the Weapon of Woe, for instance, from the Cavern by the Chasm…” Tirillo looked at the lady and continued, “But I don’t want to tell you about that now. I hope it has rusted away… Besides,” he added, “I think it’s probably just about bedtime, don’t you?”

  When Piak was sitting in bed, he looked more closely at the necklace, and took a moment to think about what kind of girl he would like to give it to. She would have to come from the mountains, like him… but she would also have to be a bit like Lavinia. Then he laughed. Go to sleep! he told himself. You have other things to dream about now.

  7 THE BLACK RIVER AND THE TARNBURG

  A week later, they had crossed the pass over the Great Mountains – Tiuri, Piak and Tirillo the jester. They stopped to rest in the stone hut, which was now guarded by Ardian’s men.

  As he looked at Tiuri’s pale and glum face, Tirillo suggested spending the night in the hut. But Tiuri said he would rather travel on to the larger guard post at the Tarntop. Piak agreed; this place was full of bad memories.

  Sir Ardian’s men told them that the Road of Ambuscade was occupied by Unauwen’s men all the way beyond the Tarnburg. But to the south of the Black River the enemy must still be powerful. The friends also heard that the King of Eviellan had led his army up to the pass, where he had waited to see if the attack would succeed.

  “What a coward!” exclaimed Piak.

  Tirillo, though, shook his head. “No,” he said, “I know many names for the King of Eviellan, but he is not a coward. I think he already suspected that this attack was doomed to fail, and he had other plans.”

  “It seems they set fire to the wood,” said one of the men. “The sky in the east was glowing red.”

  Piak was shocked and he looked at Tiuri with wide eyes. He recalled what his friend had said in his feverish delirium. But Tiuri seemed to remember nothing about it, and so Piak remained silent.

  Soon they travelled onwards. At the place where they had climbed down the rocks, they stopped for a moment.

  “Look,” said Piak, pointing, “there’s the hidden path.”

  A Man in Green appeared on the precipice. Piak waved at him and he waved back. As they went on their way, they heard the sound of a drum.

  “Do you think that’s about us?” Piak wondered.

  From the large guard post at the Tarntop the road led down along the Black River, which was now not dark at all, but white with foaming rapids. Two days later, they reached the edge of the forest, and what they saw gave them such a shock that they stopped and stared – even though they knew what was coming.

  In the distance all was still green, but there was little left of the forest closer to them. Everything was scorched and blackened.

  Tiuri frowned. In his mind he could picture it burning… he could feel the heat and the suffocating smoke, hear the crackle of burning wood, the roar of the flames, the sounds of people and animals fleeing. His thoughts were so vivid that it felt as though he had been there. But that was, of course, impossible.

  They entered the devastated area. Ash puffed up under their feet as they walked, and the smell of smoke and scorched vegetation still hung in the air. Some of the trees were not completely burnt; they stood like ghosts of the murdered forest, their twisted branches charred and flaking. Silent, saddened and fearful, they walked on.

  In the north, from the direction of the Green River, another drum sounded. From the east, along the Black River, a man approached them, leading a horse. The horse was black and the man was green, and, as they came nearer, Tiuri and Piak recognized Ardanwen and the Master of the Wild Wood.

  “What I feared has come to pass,” said Tehalon, after they had spoken their greetings. “Part of my forest has been destroyed by fire – but not everything, not everything at all. And your horse is in fine fettle, Sir Tiuri. Climb up and ride to the Tarnburg.”

  Tiuri stroked Ardanwen. “What happened here?” he asked Tehalon in concern.

  “There was a battle between the rivers,” Tehalon replied. “Two knights came to help Lord Rafox against Eviellan. But they could not stop the army heading to the east. Even so, the attack along the Road of Ambuscade failed; the army fled, battered and beaten. Were you in time?”

  “Yes,” said Tiuri, “thanks to the Vorgóta Gong.”

  “I heard it,” said Tehalon. “Not for real, but in a dream. Come with me. You will hear all about it in the Tarnburg. Other shields hang there now, but those who are there will not be there forever. And the one who dwelt there before has not yet been defeated.”

  “He hasn’t?” whispered Tiuri.

  “He has fled south and has gone to ground, still able to do much harm.”

  “Tell us more,” said Piak.

  “No,” said Tehalon. “Let another do that.”

  “You detest this struggle,” said Tirillo.

  The Master of the Wild Wood looked at the jester as if seeing him for the first time. “Who does not?” he said. “You seem like a sensible man, a man who would understand me.”

  “Perhaps so,” replied Tirillo. “Even so, you still took part, did you not?”
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br />   “I did indeed,” said Tehalon. “We had to! And then came the fire, which we extinguished with great difficulty. And since then, we Men in Green have been working to restore everything. Look!”

  It took them a while to see what he meant. As they approached the area where the Tarnburg stood, they saw that almost everything was still green on the opposite bank of the river, but the High Bridge had gone. A few tree trunks had been placed across the river as a temporary measure. Tehalon’s men were busy building a new bridge beside it.

  Tiuri took Piak by the arm and said quietly, “I saw that, the bridge collapsing and disappearing…”

  “It was a spark from the fire,” said Tehalon. “Dagonaut’s knights were upset at first because it would make it more difficult for them to conquer the Tarnburg. But later their disappointment turned into satisfaction when the King of Eviellan returned from the mountains and found his route of retreat cut off.”

  They stopped by the bridge.

  “You must tell us more,” said Tirillo.

  “The King of Eviellan rode out ahead of his routed army,” said Tehalon slowly, “a Black Knight with a Red Shield on a large grey horse. And he did something I would never have believed had I not seen it with my own eyes. He drove his horse onwards to the river and forced it to jump. He jumped even further himself, out of the saddle, and that’s how he made it to the opposite bank. His horse perished. There were Red Riders who attempted to follow him, but they fell to the rocks or drowned. The rest of his army fled to the east, where they were stopped and defeated by the knights of Dagonaut.”

  “And what about the king?” asked Piak. “He no longer has the Tarnburg.”

  “No, no longer. But he is alive and he is still powerful. You should cross the river and go to meet the knights who have occupied the castle.”

  “Who are they?” asked Tiuri. “Is Lord Rafox with them? And who are the others? Sir Ardian? And is there… is there a knight with a silver horn?”

  “There was a knight with a silver horn,” replied Tehalon, “but he has left the forest. Go across the river. You will hear everything there. I shall bid you farewell, as I still have much to do.”

  The three travellers walked across the tree trunks of the temporary bridge, Tiuri leading Ardanwen by the reins.

  The Men in Green greeted them with smiles. There were other men on the opposite bank, soldiers. One of them let out a cry and waved excitedly.

  “Adelbart!” cried Piak.

  Then a knight came striding towards them. Amazed, Tiuri stopped in his tracks. It was his father!

  A few moments later, the two Sir Tiuris were greeting each other very warmly indeed. Sir Tiuri the Valiant looked at his son with a mixture of pride and affection. “I am glad you have returned,” was all he said.

  Tiuri noticed his eyes were now at the same height as his father’s. And yet, as he walked beside him to the Tarnburg, he still felt like the boy he had once been. That feeling did not last for long, however. As they entered the castle, he realized most clearly that he was no longer a child, and it seemed that this was the place where he had become a man.

  The castle had not changed much – it seemed more dilapidated maybe, and the red shield had gone. There were now other shields at the entrance: the shields of Tehuri and Mistrinaut.

  “You can hang your shield alongside them,” said Tiuri the Valiant to his son. “You fought with us, together with Piak, even though your paths led you far from here.”

  “But fortunately you have returned in good health!” said another man. It was Lord Rafox, who had come out to meet them.

  Tiuri and Piak were delighted to see him, too. Piak, concerned, asked after his health, as his arm was in a sling.

  “Ah, that’s almost healed,” said the Lord of Mistrinaut. “We’ve been keeping a lookout for you. We heard much about you from Ardian. How are you faring, Tiuri?”

  “I’m almost healed, too,” he replied. “How are you? How is everyone?”

  “Where is Sir Ardian?” asked Piak.

  “And Sir Ristridin?” said Tiuri.

  “And Prince Iridian?” said Tirillo, who had stayed in the background at first, but now came to join them.

  “Ah, so you already know the prince is in the Wild Wood?” said Tiuri’s father. “Come inside. Then you can rest… and talk.”

  They went into the hall where once the Red Riders had sat at the long tables. Now there were other soldiers there, who greeted them and then left the room. They sat down together; at first everyone spoke at once. There was so much to ask and so much to say, and it was a long time before everyone knew how everyone else had fared and all that had happened in the three kingdoms.

  “Lavinia is back at home,” said Lord Rafox to Tiuri. “She managed to find a messenger and sent me a letter full of good wishes… including some for you as soon as you returned. The messenger is returning to Mistrinaut tomorrow. I’m just passing on my greetings, as I’m unable to write at the moment. Perhaps you would write a few words on my behalf, and add a few of your own.”

  “Oh, I’d be happy to!” said Tiuri, and he blushed as Lord Rafox looked at him with a smile. Then Tiuri asked again about Sir Ristridin.

  Now Piak and Tiuri finally got to hear that Ristridin had been imprisoned at Islan, and that he had eventually been released and had fought, together with Rafox and Tiuri’s father, between the rivers.

  “More men came from the south to reinforce Eviellan’s position,” Lord Rafox told them. “We wanted to conquer the castle, but we could not get across the Black River. Sir Ardian came from the west and joined us. The night after that, the king suddenly abandoned the Tarnburg and withdrew. Nearly all of his men followed him, and the castle fell into our hands almost without a struggle.”

  “Why did he withdraw?” asked Tiuri. “Was he afraid that he would be unable to continue to resist your attacks?”

  “No, that’s not why,” said his father. “You probably know that Prince Iridian won victory in the Kingdom of Unauwen at the Battle of the Gorge. Part of Eviellan’s army fled to the east, along the Third Great Road, and then along the secret paths into the Wild Wood, to join the forces there. Prince Iridian pursued them, with his company of knights and warriors; men from our kingdom joined him, too.”

  “Sir Bendu was with them,” said Lord Rafox.

  “The King of Eviellan was ahead of us,” continued Tiuri’s father. “That’s why he left the Tarnburg; his withdrawal was actually an attack! He rode out to meet his brother and they came to blows close to the Unholy Hills. There was another battle, the Last Battle, which lasted three days.”

  “But Prince Iridian won, didn’t he?” said Piak.

  “In a way,” said Lord Rafox slowly. “We fought too, along with Sir Ardian. Eviellan lost – at least most of his army was defeated. And yet still we did not truly win victory! When the King of Eviellan saw that he had lost his chance to win, he withdrew from the fight. He fled with his remaining men into the Unholy Hills. That’s where he is now, but no one knows exactly where. He and his Red Riders know their way around, and they’ll have plenty of traps and hiding places in there.”

  “But,” said Piak, “we’re going to do something about it, aren’t we? I mean…” He fell silent and looked rather sheepishly at the knights. After all, they knew far more about warfare than he did.

  “I’m sure it’ll be very difficult to find him there,” said Tiuri.

  His father sighed. “So far it’s proved impossible,” he said. “Although we have many more men, we are at a disadvantage. And he has continued the conflict in a different way. His Red Riders are carrying out sneak attacks. They bring death and destruction before disappearing without a trace. Others lie in ambush and attack our men when they venture into the Unholy Hills. It’s almost impossible to fight openly there. As you know, they are very familiar with the territory. We are not.”

  Tirillo asked after Prince Iridian and Sir Ardian.

  “They have set up camp by the Wild Wood Way,�
� replied Tiuri’s father, “not far from the Unholy Hills. We came back to hold the castle.”

  “The war is over,” said Tirillo, “but the fighting goes on, as is so often the case. Many more fights will be fought in this wood, which is wilder and more dangerous than I had imagined. I will go with all haste to my master, the prince, and support him however I can. I must bid you farewell.”

  Tiuri and Piak both thought they had never seen the jester look so serious.

  “Can’t the Men in Green help?” asked Tiuri.

  Lord Rafox replied that the Men in Green had not set foot in the Unholy Hills for years. “Besides,” he said, “Tehalon has told us that he no longer wants to fight, but will only be involved in the repair work.”

  “There is someone else who knows his way around the Unholy Hills!” said Piak. “Sir Fitil of Islan. But he…”

  Lord Rafox held up one hand to interrupt him. “Sir Fitil of Islan is no longer alive,” he said.

  “Sir Fitil? Dead?” said Tiuri.

  “He fell fighting against Eviellan,” said his father.

  “Against Eviellan?” repeated Piak. “But… I thought…”

  “That he was in league with Eviellan,” said Lord Rafox. “Indeed he was. But the King of Eviellan sent a detachment of Red Riders to capture Islan. Why? Perhaps because possession of that castle could prove strategically valuable; perhaps out of revenge because Sir Fitil let Ristridin go free. But whatever the reason, Castle Islan was besieged. The enemy did not capture the castle, though; Sir Fitil defended it valiantly and finally met his end in a counter-attack. Ristridin is there now.”

  “Sir Ristridin!” said Tiuri. “But he came here to the Tarnburg with you.”

  “Yes,” replied his father. “But then he travelled on to Islan and so did not take part in the Last Battle by the Unholy Hills. He anticipated that Eviellan would attack Fitil’s castle, and that is what happened. This news reached us only recently, and Ristridin is planning to remain at Islan for as long as there is chance of a second attack.”