Beyond the Forest

by Kay L. Ling

  Did Shadow look like this? According to the gnomes, Sheamathan had corrupted and destroyed most of the land and they were concerned about that, but right now, they were more concerned about their captured friends.

  The park looked deserted, which wasn’t surprising. The diseased forest was the last place anyone would go for an autumn walk. She parked, pulled her backpack out of the trunk, slipped it on, and started walking. Would the gnomes believe she had already decided to help them before she’d seen the blight?

  The shortest route to the gnomes’ Tree Home would take her through the pine forest that she loved so much. She was afraid to think what it looked like now. Everywhere, leaves spotted with black covered the ground. Moss on rocks and fallen logs, green two weeks ago, had turned brown. Only a few squirrels or chipmunks scampered through the leaves, and the wrens, sparrows, robins and other birds she usually saw were strangely absent. A mournful hush had fallen over her beloved forest.

  When she finally reached the familiar evergreen-clad hills, she sighed with relief. So far, the towering pines had withstood the blight. They stood proud and steadfast as they always had. The fragrant carpeted path of fallen needles hadn’t changed, either. But how long would this area remain free of disease?

  The sky grew more overcast as she walked. The air felt humid, oppressive. She wiped a film of perspiration from her face and scanned the woods. It might be harder than she thought to find the Tree Home. The giant oak wasn’t near any of the marked trails. Distinctive groups of rocks and trees, and the occasional fallen log, were her only reference points. Hadn’t the tree been near a beech grove?

  Just as she despaired of finding the right tree, she spotted its massive trunk. Running toward the tree, she swept aside branches that got in her way.

  As she approached she called, “Is anyone there?” The gnomes probably weren’t here this time of day, but she had to check. She called a little louder, “It’s me. Lana. Is anyone there?” No response. How could they hear anyone outside, anyway? Maybe they sensed rather than heard visitors. Now what? It was pointless to stay here. She might as well check the campfire and see if anyone had been around. After that, she could photograph the stone she’d buried by the stump. The gnomes probably wouldn’t arrive until after dark, so she’d come back then.

  Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The first spatters of rain fell. Great. Just great. The forecast had mentioned scattered thundershowers, but usually she got lucky and it rained somewhere else. The wind was picking up, whistling through the trees. She glanced at the sky. Huge thunderclouds, driven by a swift wind, were moving in. What were her chances of making it back to the car before she got drenched? She took off her backpack. Might as well put on her rain poncho right now.

  Leaves fell from branches overhead, and others rose from the ground, swirling together. An eerie gloom blanketed the forest. The rising full moon appeared briefly, quickly smothered by clouds. She struggled into the poncho and yanked the hood over her hair. No doubt about it, a cold front was moving in. The temperature had already dropped several degrees. She hastily entered the Tree Home’s coordinates in her phone and started to walk.

  Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed, and the gentle patter of rain came faster. This wasn’t the safest place during a lightning storm. She walked quickly, head down, shoulders hunched, in a futile attempt to avoid the rain. Droplets splattered against her hood and dribbled down the poncho.

  Branches snapped somewhere on her right. The sound was unmistakable, even over the relentless patter of rain. She stopped and stood perfectly still, listening. The sound came again—someone or something forging through the underbrush. At first she couldn’t see anything. Then she glimpsed a dark form thirty or forty feet away. A deer? No, too small. Maybe a fox or coyote.

  Her heart beat faster as another possibility suggested itself.

  She broke into a run, trying not to slip on wet leaves as she dodged fallen limbs and jumped over exposed tree roots and rocks.

  Was it following? She didn’t want to look, but it was better to know. She glanced aside. The animal kept pace with her, running in a parallel course about thirty feet away.

  The ground was slippery and treacherous. She dodged rocks and jumped muddy ditches, afraid she’d lose her footing if she didn’t slow down. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the woods. Her breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking it now—the animal was Sheamathan’s wolfhound.

  Why was it here? Her sides ached but she couldn’t stop running. She had to stay ahead of it. The pine forest lay just ahead. It offered no real refuge, but the trees were widely spaced, the land more even. It would be easier to run there.

  Snatches of nightmares flashed through her mind—the wolfhound outside her bedroom window. It wanted her to come to the window and let it in, but she wasn’t that stupid. And yet, she remembered the wolfhound bending over her bed, speaking inside her head. Somehow it had gotten into the house. It knew her name. Her defense had been, don’t listen when it speaks. Think of something else. Crowd out the voice.

  Before she reached the first row of pines, lightning sliced the sky in a blinding flash. Thunder boomed, faded into an angry rumble, and then boomed again. The skies opened. Sheets of rain pelted her. A gust of wind whipped back her hood and rain stung her face, nearly blinding her. Strands of wet hair dripped in her eyes and clung to her face. She let out a moan of despair, wishing she were home, or anywhere but here. If only the rain would let up. Her flimsy poncho stuck to her like a coating of wet leaves.

  Swiping rain from her eyes, she plunged into the pine forest. It ought to be drier here. Overhead, the dense network of pine boughs trapped most of the rain, but it was dark, so dark, she could barely see where she was going. Silently cursing the weight of her backpack, she raced forward.

  Her foot snagged on an exposed root and she felt her leg twist. She tried to catch herself but went down hard on both knees, pitching forward, her palms bearing most of her weight. Pine needles stabbed into her. Wincing at the pain, she pushed herself off the ground and struggled to her feet. Her knees hurt like crazy but she had to keep going.

  The wolfhound emerged from the trees and stood, watching her.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She needed something to defend herself—a branch—anything. She looked around frantically, but there was nothing within reach.

  Lana. Its voice spoke in her head. I mean you no harm.

  The dog’s intelligent eyes held her captive. She stared at the beast, her nightmare beast, her face frozen with dread. The wolfhound belonged to Sheamathan the woodspirit and answered to her. Why should she trust it? She’d resist its voice as she always had. It wouldn’t trick her into opening her mind. I won’t listen! My gem powers are strong enough to block you!

  Maybe she wasn’t defenseless. She had powerful gemstones: gems for courage, wisdom, and protection. Now when she most needed their help, she must trust her abilities to use them. Opening the pouch she grabbed a handful of gems and held them tightly. She kept a wary eye on the wolfhound as she concentrated, and before long its voice became so faint she could hardly hear it. No time. Full moon. Listen to me, she thought the dog said.

  She shook her head defiantly, refusing to listen. The wolfhound turned and began to walk away, then it stopped and turned back and their eyes met. She knew she should look away, but somehow she couldn’t. Its intelligent black eyes held a terrible sadness and longing. The wolfhound threw back its head and let out a tormented howl. That howl was as disturbing as the voice in her head. She bolted, despite her bruised legs and throbbing knees.

  When she slowed and looked back, the wolfhound was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Lana kept running until her knees throbbed so badly the pain made her queasy, and then she stumbled to a halt. It was a wonder she’d made it this far. The pain was worse than when she had fallen. She picked up a sturdy branch, and leaning on it heavily, used it as a walking stick. Feeling like a resident in a nursing home, she pl
odded along the muddy trail. From time to time she looked back, but there was no sign of the wolfhound. Maybe she could finally relax.

  Why had the dog come in the daytime? The gnomes weren’t usually around then. Was it looking for her? If she hadn’t been here, would it have gone to her home?

  The rain was finally letting up, but her knees hurt too much for side trips. Her plan to walk to the campfire site, and the tree where she’d buried the stone, would have to wait. Right now, the only place she wanted to go was her car. She had to tend her knees.

  As usual, her car was the only one in the lot. She slid behind the steering wheel, careful not to bump her knees, and turned on the radio.

  Rolling up her pant leg, she inspected her injuries. Both knees looked puffy, but aside from that, the worst damage consisted of ugly brush burns that stung like mad. Walking would be painful for a few days. Between her sore knees, and her rattled nerves, she didn’t want to go to the Tree Home tonight. But if she put it off, would she ever come back?

  Sticking with her plan, she drove out of the park, pulled onto the shoulder of a side road, ate the dinner she’d packed, and waited for nightfall. Time passed all too slowly, and listening to the radio didn’t help much.

  She drove back to the park a few minutes earlier than planned, sick of waiting and a little stir-crazy. Another few minutes of staring idly out the windows and she’d have lost her mind.

  Locking the car, she leaned against the fender and looked up at the sky. It had finally stopped raining. A cool breeze blew from the west, but it felt refreshing rather than chilly. The full moon shone between bands of clouds. Time to go. She held her rhodonite and rhodochrosite gems for a moment, and then put them back in the pouch.

  Despite being committed to seeking out the gnomes, she felt a mixture of anticipation and dread as she shrugged into her backpack. She walked a few feet to decide whether she needed a walking stick. Her knees felt a lot better now. She headed off toward the trail, grateful for the GPS coordinates stored in her phone. This time it should be easier to find the Tree Home.

  The silent forest didn’t seem as ominous tonight. She shone her flashlight onto the path, hoping to spot stones, holes and roots before she tripped over anything and made her injuries worse.

  Walking at a brisk but comfortable pace, she felt relaxed enough to enjoy the wind in the trees, the soothing drone of insects, and the sense of being one with nature. Even so, she was wary. It would be foolish to let down her guard. Would she ever relax here again after everything she’d learned? Not likely, she thought with a frown. Occasionally she swept the beam of her flashlight into the woods, lighting up the boles of the trees and dense patches of underbrush, just in case anything was lurking there.

  Tonight, she was happy to say, she didn’t feel watchful eyes tracking her, and even when she passed through the lowlands, premonitions of danger were thankfully absent.

  After about fifteen minutes she consulted her map app again and whispered, “Yes!” It showed the Tree Home just ahead.

  When she reached the tree, she pressed her hands against the rough bark, leaned close, and called softly, “Hello! It’s Lana. Is anyone in there?” She waited a moment before calling again a little louder. “Hello! Raenihel? Are you there?” Good thing no one could see her talking to a tree. They’d think she was a lunatic. How long should she wait? Seconds seemed like minutes. She was about to give up when a small brown arm shot through the bark. A hand closed over her wrist and gave a sharp tug.

  Suddenly she stood face-to-face with Raenihel.

  “So,” he said softly. “You came back.” His lined face looked weary, his brown eyes unbearably sad. “The forest is dying.”

  “You said this would happen. I—well, I thought you were exaggerating. It’s hard to believe this could happen, even after seeing it. Part of me wants to think there’s some other natural explanation.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded. Feeling a little awkward she went on, “I’ve been worried about you. Have you found any of the missing gnomes?”

  “No, Lana. We believe Sheamathan took them to Shadowglade, her stronghold. Lately more gnomes have been disappearing—captured no doubt, for her work camps.” He gestured toward the gnomes sitting around the glowing stones. “My people drink fialazza to soothe their heartache, but that’s no way to deal with our problems.”

  “It must be terrible to have no way to fight back, no way to defend yourselves.”

  “Weapons aren’t much use against a being that can paralyze you,” he said grimly. “As for the breghlin, we fight them when necessary, but we’re often out-numbered. Staying out of reach in the Safe Havens is our best defense, but that isn’t always possible. We have to grow food and hunt and live our lives as normally as possible.”

  A few gnomes looked up from their meals and saw her talking with Raenihel, but they avoided eye contact, so she was pretty sure what they thought of her. Artham and Terrilem were among the group, but thankfully, they seemed too preoccupied to notice her.

  “Look,” she said, coming straight to the point. “I want to help you, Raenihel, but I’m not your new Challenger.”

  “Then we must find one, or try to overthrow Sheamathan ourselves.”

  Unzipping the pouch at her waist, she took out her gemstones—some transparent, some opaque, some smooth, some faceted, in every color of the rainbow. She held them out to Raenihel. “I’ve been studying gem lore more intensively than ever. These stones, I think, have the powers we’ll need.” Raenihel’s eyes grew wide. “You said my gems would be more powerful in Shadow. If that’s true, I’d like to see it for myself.”

  At first, he looked too dumfounded to say anything. He stared at her outstretched palm and then hesitantly ran his trembling fingers over the colorful stones. Finally, he looked up at her. Tears glistened in his eyes. “You have wondrous treasures. Bless you for bringing these. You’re willing to go to Shadow?”

  She nodded. “Yes, if you think I should. I figured we could experiment. How much do you know about Fair Lands gems?”

  “Only what I’ve learned from my ancestors, and perhaps their tales aren’t very reliable.”

  “Your description of malachite’s powers matched our folklore,” she pointed out as she put the gems back into her pouch.

  “That’s encouraging, I suppose. Naturally, I know more about our gems than yours. As the leader of our clan, I’ve made it my business to learn as much as possible, but I don’t consider myself an expert.” He sighed heavily. “You see, gnomes are fascinated by gems, but we aren’t born with the ability to draw out their powers.”

  Lana’s heart sank. That meant the burden of whatever plan they came up with would fall on her. “Most people in my world don’t have that skill, either,” she told him. “They can’t feel, let alone control, gemstones’ powers.”

  Movement caught Lana’s eye and she braced herself for a fight as Artham strode toward them. The confrontational look on his face set her teeth on edge.

  “Lana has offered to help us,” Raenihel said before Artham could speak.

  “Apparently she’s had a change of heart.” Artham’s eyes bored into hers, challenging her to look away.

  She was so up for this fight. Glaring at him, and yes, stretching herself to her full height so she towered over him, which did seem a bit unfair, she said coldly, “Yes, I’ve had a change of heart. Partly because I’m worried about my world, and partly because I’m worried about yours. I may have a way to help.” She took out the gemstones and showed him.

  His expression turned from hostile to contrite. He didn’t look at her when he said quietly, “You were able to use the malachite, so I assume you can use these?”

  Not exactly an apology, but she’d overlook that. “Yes. I’ve been experimenting with gems for a while, but I’m still a novice. If I had someone to teach me I’d be more proficient by now. It takes time. Gem studies are a lifetime pursuit.”

  Artham’s eyes took on a strangely guarded look. He didn’t ask any
more questions and he didn’t try to touch the stones. At least Raenihel was excited about the gemstones. Who cared what Artham thought? She said to Raenihel, “It’s amazing to think that your world has gemstones I’ve never seen, ones that are more powerful than these. I’d love to study them.”

  “Yes, amazing. No doubt,” Artham muttered, frowning. He ran a hand through his curly auburn hair and shot Raenihel a troubled look.

  Lana ignored Artham and plunged ahead. “Raenihel, can you show me some of your native gemstones and teach me what they do?”

  Raenihel glanced at Artham before answering hesitantly, “Yes, I’ll teach you what I know.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Artham asked under his breath.

  What was the matter with them? Why were they acting this way? She was only trying to help. “I’m here to help you, but we won’t get far if we don’t trust each other. Out with it! Why don’t you want to teach me?”

  Raenihel looked uncomfortable. “Some people might have ulterior motives. It would be tempting to learn about our gems and then stay, hoping to become powerful.”

  Her face fell. “Oh. I never thought of that. That’s terrible. I’m not like that. I don’t use people.”

  “I believe you,” Raenihel answered gently. “But I understand Artham’s concern.”

  Artham said, “Seeking knowledge for a noble purpose has been known to devolve into an ugly quest for power.”

  “I’m not like that,” she repeated stubbornly. But how could she be sure? Who really knew what darker impulses hid in one’s heart?

  “If we hope to overcome Sheamathan, we have to trust someone,” Raenihel said to Artham, “We can’t do it on our own.”

  “You said yourself, fate brought me here the night Sheamathan came to this forest,” Lana reminded Artham pointedly.