Beyond the Forest

by Kay L. Ling

  The young gnomes walked a lot faster, and much to her alarm, the gnomes fanned out to cover a wider area. Lana stayed with Raenihel and Gliaphon. They walked slower than the young gnomes did, but even so, she could barely keep up. Raenihel glanced back now and then to make sure she was still there. His expression was always inscrutable, but when Gliaphon looked back, he looked frightened. Could he see or sense something she couldn’t? It was hard to stay focused when she was tired, cold and hungry, but she had to try.

  Blocking out physical distractions—the cold, her sore feet, and hunger—she wrapped her fingers around the malachite bracelet and concentrated on the stone. The familiar jittery feeling began to churn in the pit of her stomach. It’s not my imagination. We’re being watched.

  The gnomes emerged from the trees and crossed the streamside trail, then paused by the sluggish water as if deciding whether to cross. Dead leaves, tangled twigs, and clumps of rotting grass littered the banks. What had been a cheerful bubbling stream in the spring was now a tired channel of slow-moving, murky water. At its narrowest point, the water was still seven or eight feet across, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t deep. She hoped the gnomes wouldn’t cross the stream. The land on the other side disturbed her. Something dark and brooding waited in the woods. She could feel it. Whatever it was, the gnomes were heading straight toward it.

  Choosing the shallowest part of the muddy stream, several gnomes started across. She couldn’t stay here by herself. She had to follow. Were they crossing the stream to confront the evil she sensed, or were they unaware of the danger? She glanced at her malachite bracelet. The crack down the middle of the stone was noticeable despite the green stripes, a reminder that their lives might be in danger.

  Malachite. Guardian stone of travelers.

  She stepped into the stream. Frigid water closed over her ankles, soaking her sneakers. Her sense of dread grew stronger with each step as she waded through water up to her knees.

  Malachite provides protection, power, and security.

  On the other side, she climbed the bank to higher ground and waited for the others to cross. The wind, which had blown with irregular gusts, now intensified, as if trying to push them back across the stream. Her soaked pant legs clung uncomfortably, magnifying the cold. She leaned into the wind and clutched herself for warmth. It wasn’t safe to be out in the open. They needed to be near trees so they could retreat inside in case of danger, and along the stream bank there was nothing but weeds and scrub brush.

  The last of the gnomes slogged through the stagnant water and climbed to the top of the bank. They stamped their feet to dislodge the clinging mud, and then drew their clothing tighter about themselves in a futile effort to ward off the biting wind. No one spoke. She looked around. Who was in the lead, and where did they plan to go?

  A wailing howl shattered the silence. She sucked in a startled breath and froze, staring into the darkness. All around her the gnomes stood motionless. The howl died away, and then it came again—a mournful, unearthly baying that echoed through the woods. As if on cue, the gnomes broke into a run. Gliaphon motioned frantically for her to follow—hardly necessary; she was already running.

  Gusts of wind whipped loose strands of hair into her eyes. There wasn’t much cover. Where could they hide? The gnomes converged on a decaying, fallen tree buried in tall weeds and scrub brush—the only possible hiding place—and dove into the brush. She followed, burrowing deep, ignoring the brambles and twigs that scratched her face and hands. Gasping for breath, she peeked over the rotting tree.

  A female gnome near Lana whispered, “That was no normal dog. I’m sure it was the cursed hound.”

  Oh, great. If the legend was true, they faced something worse than a vicious dog—as if that weren’t bad enough.

  Ahead, a faint light appeared deep in the woods. Lana watched transfixed as the light moved toward them, growing brighter as it came and illuminating the trees with an unnatural, bluish-white glow. An unreasoning dread gripped her, choking off her breath. Hiding isn’t good enough. We need to run! She wanted to, but her body felt like lead and refused to move.

  The light expanded, wider and wider. It shone through an opening in the trees directly across from their hiding place. Its eerie florescence lit a wide swath of forest.

  A tall, pale woman walked out of the woods. A glowing crystal rested on her palm—the source of the eerie light. Thick, wavy black hair reached down to her waist. Her perfectly sculpted features should have been beautiful, but her obsidian eyes looked like dark, bottomless pools. Her skin was unnaturally white, the bloodless hue of death. She was beautiful, but she didn’t look human. Pendants that held gems lay against her black gown, and on each arm she wore several bracelets set with gems.

  “I have returned. This forest is mine.” The air vibrated with energy, and even though the voice was low and restrained, Lana could feel the power behind it. This was a voice of death and destruction—a voice that could make rocks crumble to dust. The evil, the hatred, which radiated from the woman, was nearly tangible, and when she spread her arms every plant and blade of grass within several feet shriveled and turned brown. Lana’s mouth dropped open in stunned amazement.

  The woman’s eyes passed slowly over the brush where the gnomes were hiding.

  Lana shivered and held her breath, but something drew her attention from the woman. What was happening? With mounting panic she realized that sensation was draining from her arms and legs. She was growing increasingly numb. When she tried to wriggle her fingers, she could barely move them. Her whole body felt as heavy and immovable as the dead tree in front of her. In fact, she could barely turn her head to see the gnomes. Raenihel and Gliaphon gaped open-mouthed in a trance-like stupor, and the others within her line of vision looked equally overcome.

  It took all her strength to turn her head toward the terrifying woman, and it was becoming difficult to breathe.

  The barefoot woman walked straight toward Lana, stepping on twigs and stones without flinching. Her eyes, darker than a starless night, did not reflect light; they extinguished it.

  She regarded Lana coldly. “You don’t belong here, human. Why are you here after dark?”

  Lana couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. Her lips wouldn’t move.

  Branches snapped. Something black sprang from the trees and bounded forward. In a few powerful strides, the wolfhound reached the woman’s side. The huge, shaggy black dog looked at Lana with shining eyes, and all Lana could do was stare in horror. This dog! I’ve seen it before! How is that possible?

  A jumble of images came flooding back. Some were just vivid nightmares, but many of the things she remembered she felt certain had really happened. At night, this dog had looked through her window. A few times it had gotten into the house and had stood over her bed, thinking thoughts into her mind. Her mind raced with questions. How old had she been when this dog first appeared? When had the nightmares started? Her early teens? Why had it singled her out and what did it want? She had never seen this woman before, only the wolfhound. Where did the woman fit in?

  Maybe it was the shock of seeing the dog, or the flood of distracting memories, but something was happening. She realized that her fingers tingled and she could move them a little. Her arms and legs burned with a pins and needles sensation. The paralysis was starting to fade.

  Malachite. Guardian stone of travelers. Protection, power, and security.

  Could the bracelet be helping her? After all, even though she couldn’t actually hold the malachite, it was touching her body. Before, the stone had cracked to warn her of danger. Then, when she was about to be captured, Gliaphon had found her. Had the malachite drawn him? Just how did the stone work? She wasn’t sure, but if there was any chance that the stone was helping her, she needed to focus her mind and draw its energy.

  Her whole body began to feel hot, and then the pins and needles sensation eased. She tensed her muscles and felt them respond. Maybe, just maybe, she could escape.


  Half expecting her body to betray her, she lurched to her feet. A rush of adrenalin surged through her. She whirled and stumbled over two gnomes huddled together in the brush. Bending down she frantically shook the closest one. “Try to move! Run!” She didn’t want to abandon them, but she couldn’t stay. If they couldn’t snap out of their paralysis, there was nothing she could do for them.

  The wolfhound howled; the woman screamed in fury; the ground beneath Lana’s feet shook like an earthquake.

  She ran blindly.

  Branches fell, stones flew up from the ground, and the wind pelted her with dirt and leaves. At any moment the wolfhound or the woman would probably catch her. She had no idea where she was going. Cold, wet and hungry, her odds of escape weren’t very promising.

  When she finally slowed from exhaustion, deep in the woods, a small hand grabbed hers.

  And then the forest disappeared.

  Chapter 6

  Lana opened her eyes inside the Tree Home, dizzy and out of breath. “Thank you,” she gasped. “I couldn’t have run much further.” She let go of Raenihel’s hand.

  A few gnomes stood nearby, and two more burst in, wild-eyed and panting. After a moment, more gnomes arrived.

  Raenihel began to pace, visibly shaken. “It’s just as I feared,” he said darkly. “The wolfhound was a sign.”

  The gnomes gathered around him, faces tense, but they didn’t say a word. Raenihel finally stopped pacing and turned to Lana with tears in his eyes. With a sweep of his hand that included the other gnomes, he said, “You broke the trance. Bless you, Lana! I hope everyone escaped.”

  Then everyone began to talk at once.

  “When you shook me, Lana, my mind returned from the dark place.”

  “I heard you shout, ‘Run!’ and it broke my trance.”

  “We should never have crossed the stream.”

  “Well, we didn’t expect to be caught in the open!”

  “When Raenihel shoved me, I could feel my arms and legs again.”

  “I ran for the nearest trees, expecting to be struck down at any moment.”

  Overwhelmed, Lana interrupted. “Who was that woman?”

  “Sheamathan. She’s a woodspirit. The last of her kind,” Raenihel answered, “or so we’ve been told. She’s the embodiment of death and corruption. Long ago she turned many of the gnomes to evil.”

  Lana frowned. “You mean the ones that became the breghlin?”

  “Yes,” Raenihel replied, looking pleased that she understood.

  “Where did she come from?” Lana asked. She had so many questions she didn’t know where to begin. She wanted to know about the woman, but actually, she was even more interested in the dog.

  One of the gnomes said, “She comes from our world—from Shadow.”

  Again, the gnomes began to talk at once—bits and pieces of information. It was hard to make heads or tails of it.

  “She’d enslave us all if she could.”

  “She’s ruined most of our land with her blight.”

  A gnome with a white, waist-length beard said, “Our world wasn’t always called Shadow. She calls it that. She says it’s a shadow of its former self and laughs about it.”

  “Long ago, it was a beautiful place.”

  “But she corrupted and destroyed it.”

  “And it will happen here, in the Fair Lands! Wait and see!”

  “That’s right. The woodspirit will rule The Fair Lands unless someone powerful can stop her,” a young male agreed bitterly.

  Lana thought back. What had the woodspirit said? “I have returned. This forest is mine.” So, the woodspirit had been here before. It was all so confusing. She threw her hands up in dismay. “Please! One at a time!”

  “I suppose it was selfish to take you with us,” Raenihel said, looking rather distracted. “If the wolfhound was here, there was a good chance Sheamathan was as well. Our lore says that a strong human mind can break the woodspirit’s control.” He frowned. “We, on the other hand, are powerless in her presence.”

  Lana glared at him. “You took me along in case you needed me to save you? You put me in danger based on folklore?” Unbelievable. How could he do such a thing? “What if you were wrong and I was just as susceptible to her power?”

  Raenihel hung his head. “Gnomes can’t withstand her power, but we thought you could. It was foolish of me, and unfair to you.”

  “I’ll say!” She felt like shaking him. Sure, one of the gnomes had done her a good turn—maybe even saved her life—but returning the favor should be up to her, after knowing all the risks. Had she broken the paralysis just because she was human? Did she have an extraordinarily strong mind? Or had the malachite protected her? There was no way to know.

  Raenihel said, “Years ago, Sheamathan entered this forest but was driven out—otherwise she would have turned your world into a poisoned wasteland back then, just like ours.”

  Lana shook her head. “Driven out? How?”

  “By a great gem master called the Challenger.”

  “And what became of this, um, Challenger?”

  Raenihel shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “No one knows. The legend is silent about that. After the woodspirit left your world no one ever saw the Challenger again. The fact that the woodspirit has returned to the Fair Lands means something is wrong. Clearly, the Challenger’s power to prevent her from returning has been broken.”

  A grim silence fell over the group. The formerly talkative gnomes suddenly had nothing to say. They looked so miserable that Lana couldn’t help but feel depressed. She looked around. Gliaphon and some of the other gnomes hadn’t come back.

  “The others should be back by now. I’m afraid they’ve been captured,” one of the females said quietly.

  “Yes,” Raenihel agreed with a frown. “Sheamathan will take anyone she captures to her castle in Shadowglade. Or worse, to her work camps.”

  “We have to look for them,” a young, auburn-haired gnome said. “Maybe they’re injured or unconscious and she didn’t find them.”

  Raenihel nodded. “All right, Artham. Take two others and search near the fallen tree where we hid.”

  Lana hoped Artham wouldn’t ask her, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he did. The gnomes mistakenly thought she was powerful. She didn’t want to face Sheamathan again, and she was afraid of the wolfhound. The gnomes didn’t know her history with the dog. If they did, they’d understand, but she wasn’t sure she should tell them.

  Artham pointed to a young, powerfully built fellow who stood at least two inches taller than the rest. “I’ll take Terrilem.”

  Terrilem wore tall black boots and a rust colored tunic over black trousers. A thick, black beard softened his broad, rather blocky face. His eyes flickered with a mixture of pride and determination. “Thank you, Artham. If our friends are still in this world, we’ll bring them back.”

  Lana thought gloomily, And if they’re not?

  “The human can come with us,” Artham said to Raenihel without looking at her. “She proved a great help so far.”

  “I think we’ve already imposed enough on our guest,” Raenihel said, looking embarrassed.

  An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. If they thought she’d volunteer, they were wrong. “I’ve had my fill of adventures for one night,” she said firmly. She shouldn’t need an excuse. A simple no ought to be enough, but the tense silence was unbearable, and she felt the need to defend herself. “Look, breaking free from the woodspirit wasn’t as easy as you think.”

  Disapproval showed in Artham’s eyes. Terrilem frowned and looked away. How dare they expect her to risk her life? Not only were they not human, they didn’t even belong here. Why were they here, anyway? Watchers, they said. What good were watchers? They reported back to their own clans. What help was that?

  Artham shrugged. “I’ll take Mattiger, then. Wish us luck.”

  Mattiger, an older gnome with gray hair, stepped forward. Then they were gone.

  “Come sit by t
he fire, Lana,” Raenihel urged kindly, taking her arm. “I’m sure you’re cold and tired. Relax and have something to eat.”

  She let out a long breath. “Thank you. It doesn’t seem right to rest while your people are in danger, but you’re right, I’m tired and hungry and rattled by this whole experience. First, breghlin were hunting me, and now you’re telling me that a being—a woodspirit—plans to come here and rule my world. Sorry, but it’s too much to handle right now. I need a while to absorb it.” It would all seem just as incredible tomorrow, or next week. Fortunately, gemstone folklore had introduced her to strange, inexplicable forces and conditioned her to question rather than dismiss things she didn’t understand, so that would help.

  Raenihel led her to the circle of glowing stones and sat. She joined him, sitting close enough to the stones to feel their warmth. Her wet, muddy pant legs might finally dry, and that would go a long way toward making her more comfortable. She looked around at the Tree Home, still amazed that such a place existed. Dim light shining from the walls illuminated the gnomes as they opened crocks and filled large earthenware bowls.

  In a show of deference and respect, the gnomes served her first. They gave her an empty bowl and offered her an array of foods. She took helpings of mushrooms, turnips, assorted greens, potatoes, and salted venison. Then they poured her a cup of fialazza and she took it with a polite nod. Sipping the red liquid, she felt calmer and more focused. Maybe she should tell the gnomes her bizarre tale. She had seen Sheamathan’s wolfhound throughout her lifetime. Would they believe her?

  Listening to snatches of the gnomes’ conversations, she ate everything in her bowl. As she ate the last of the salty meat, Raenihel said, “Tell my people why you are here at night and what happened to you earlier.”