by Sam Ferguson
Jonathan shook his head. “Those are rumors. We’ve never seen anything like that.”
Bull shrugged. “Well, you haven’t ever been inside, have you? A jungle cat can sneak up on its prey without ever making a sound. Then, all at once, the beast launches and tackles its quarry, pinning it under several hundred pounds of teeth and claws!” Bull snatched out and shook Jonathan’s shoulders for emphasis. Jonathan didn’t jump, which obviously rankled Bull, for his mirth disappeared and he offered only a snort as he eyed Jonathan. “It’s true, you know,” Bull put in.
Jonathan shrugged. “I went into the heart of the Kigyo lands and found Kigabané by myself. I guess cats just aren’t as scary as a nest of fifty-foot long snakes.”
Moose chuckled to himself and lit another cigar, the orange and red flare of the match nearly blinding Jonathan for a moment.
“No one asked you to chime in,” Bull shouted at Moose.
Now it was Jason’s turn to offer a little ribbing of his own. He turned to Bull and put a mock expression of concern on his face. “Is Bull scared of cats?” Jason teased.
Bull growled and half-heartedly elbowed Jason in the side as he moved away from them.
Jason turned and winked to Jonathan, careful not to let anyone but Jonathan see him rub the spot where Bull had struck him.
“Simmer down!” Captain Ziegler snarled. “We are Ghosts, not a drunken murder of crows cackling on in the night!”
“Crows don’t drink,” Bull called out.
Ziegler took a step after Bull, but then stopped when the bald warrior set his pack down and turned to face a bush while undoing his trousers. The captain huffed and turned back to Miranda.
“Bull seems mouthier than I recall,” Jason said quietly.
Jonathan nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Before Bull had even finished watering the bush, Ziegler gave the order to move out. The group took off toward the opening in the forest, leaving Bull to grumble and hurry to catch up.
Jonathan couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed as they jogged into the darkness. He could see the first few trees, but then the forest pulled them in completely. He glanced back over his shoulder after his eyes adjusted a bit and the group slowed to a walk. He was surprised by how bright the field out beyond the forest looked now in comparison.
“Light,” Ziegler commanded.
Jonathan turned back around just in time to be painfully blinded by an orb of white light that erupted in the air above Ruben. Jonathan winced away and had to blink for several seconds before the dozen spots disappeared from his vision and allowed him to refocus on the light in their path. Ruben set the orb floating over them effortlessly and the group continued on as if it were daytime.
“I thought we were being secret?” Jason asked.
“Only about our true intentions,” Ziegler responded. “If anyone sees us, we tell them that we are all on holiday, and traveling to see the wonders of the elven cities.”
“And then we pray they don’t look in our packs,” Bull said.
Ziegler nodded and turned to Jason. “It would look more suspicious if travelers didn’t use light at night. Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.”
Ruben nodded and said, “I have academic reasons to call upon some of the elven elders to discuss several books that I brought with me. This way we can look for clues without raising suspicions.”
The thread of conversation unraveled then and Jonathan looked out to the trees with the aid of Ruben’s light. Massive trunks stood with hardly any gap between them. Some of their branches grew out and around neighboring trees, while others shot up at an angle, twisting around other branches as they fought a slow war for dominance. The canopy of leaves above appeared as solid as any stone ceiling Jonathan had seen before, blocking out any view of the sky above, and greedily taking in all the light for themselves. Jonathan noted the lower branches had far fewer, if any, leaves upon them. There were, however, vines and creeping flowers that grew upon the lower branches. Moss and ivy covered many of the trunks, in some cases covering the base of the trees for only a few inches off the ground, and in others creating a full sheath of green that covered entire trees. It was a beautiful sight, and easily explained the forest’s name. Jonathan doubted whether a horse could maneuver through the forest at all, with the thick webbing of branches and foliage closing off any passage wide enough to go through.
The group made excellent time, covering many miles before they stopped to make camp a few hours before dawn. Each of them slept in the open, using only their outer cloaks to keep themselves warm. Jonathan would have liked to set a fire, but Captain Ziegler insisted that fire was too dangerous in Tanglewood Forest.
“The tiniest of sparks can wreak havoc on the forest if an ember were to catch hold of some of the dead growth,” he said. “Besides, Ruben can keep us warm.”
Jonathan didn’t even bother waiting to see what spell Ruben would cast this time. He just threw his pack down at the base of a large elm tree and dropped down onto the ground, lying back and looking up at the underside of the green canopy above.
A few moments later, a wave of warmth rolled over the young boy amidst whispers of thanks and appreciation aimed at Ruben.
“Don’t let ‘im get to ya,” Jason said softly as he moved to position his pack next to Jonathan’s. “I bet he can’t fire a bow half as well as you can.”
Jonathan nodded and then turned onto his side, putting his back to Jason. The older brother got the hint apparently, for he didn’t say anything else as the two of them drifted off to sleep.
A sharp nudge bumped into Jonathan’s back, just above his tailbone. It seemed as though it had only been a few minutes since the boy had closed his eyes, but light was now breaking through the thick mess of leaves above, and Ziegler was casting a fuzzy shadow over Jonathan.
“It’s morning; time to move,” Ziegler said.
Jonathan pushed up from the warm dirt, rubbing his neck when a sharp pain prevented him from looking over his left shoulder. He grabbed his pack and stood on his feet, noting that Ruben was still snoring.
Jason elbowed Jonathan in the ribs. “Well, at least he has one bad quality eh?”
Jonathan smiled at that one. Jason’s blue eyes lit up and he scrunched his face for emphasis when Ruben let out a particularly loud snort. Jason pulled a stale roll out of his pack, broke it in half, and offered one portion to Jonathan. The two ate quickly, barely managing to finish their last bites before Ziegler had everyone, including a groggy, yawning Ruben, back on the road.
“Keep pace,” Ziegler called out as he broke into a jog.
“I don’t remember him running so much last time,” Jonathan complained.
Jason slapped Jonathan on the back. “You’ll get used to it.”
Jonathan shook his head and frowned. He doubted very much that he would ever get used to running. It was the only activity he knew of that was both boring, yet mentally demanding as well. The forest droned on tree after tree, passing him by as his feet plodded the road and his mind began to drift. Unfortunately, as his mind drifted, so too did his feet. He veered to the side, slowed pace, or nearly tripped maybe a dozen times before he finally had no choice but to reengage his mind and focus on the road. That was the part he hated the most. The dirt road stretched out before him like a never-ending snake slithering its way through the forest. There were no visible goal markers or end points to focus on.
As if that wasn’t enough, the stitch in his left side sprang upon him without warning, and much earlier than he would have expected. The pain was sharp, sending a vertical line of stings up the left side of his abdomen that altered his gait and slowed his pace.
“Keep up back there!” Bull called out.
Jonathan winced and came to a full stop.
“I’ll get him,” Jason said.
Just before Jonathan bent down to catch his breath and relieve the tension in his side, he caught sight of Miranda shooting him a disapproving glance.
“Come on, Jonathan, we’ve run farther than this before. Let’s go,” Jason called out as he circled back around Jonathan.
Jonathan shook his head. “Give me a second.”
Jason threw his head back and let out a frustrated sigh.
Jonathan pushed upright again and was about to start running again when something moved off to the left. It was subtle, a shadow in the darkness of the forest really, but he had seen it. He squinted and focused in on the forest, his eyes scanning the sides of each tree and peering through the thick mess of vines and boughs.
“What is it?” Jason asked.
Jonathan shrugged. “Not sure, but there is something out there,” he said.
Jason slapped his shoulder. “Come on, let’s catch up with the others.”
Jonathan noticed that they had all disappeared around a bend nearly one hundred yards away from them. He nodded and started jogging alongside Jason, but he stayed on the outside of the road in order to scan the forest.
“Tanglewood Forest is docile,” Jason said. “It was probably just a deer, or maybe something smaller, if there was anything at all.”
Jonathan shook his head. He was already breathing hard and trying to banish any recognition of the stitch in his side from his mind, so he didn’t bother to respond. He just kept his eyes glued to the forest.
The two of them rounded the bend just as Bull let out a feral yell and lunged at something emerging from the trees. Jason and Jonathan broke into a sprint. A flash of yellow shot out from Ruben’s hands and something screamed against the magic and slumped back against a large oak tree.
Jason and Jonathan arrived on the scene after the fighting was over. There on the ground were a pair of creatures the likes of which Jonathan had never seen before. Each had legs like those of a human, but they were made of wood. A thick torso of green, moss-covered wood coiled upward until a pair of long, spindly arms stretched out. Their heads had no mouths or noses. Only a pair of glowing eyes that dimmed with each passing second until the light left them entirely and a puff of dust erupted out from their bodies.
“These are wood sprites,” Ruben said. “Usually they are mischievous, but harmless creatures. They tend to shy away from large groups like ours. However, I caught this pair rushing toward us.”
“Good thing too,” Miranda put in.
“I saw them, back there in the woods where I stopped,” Jonathan blurted out as he pointed back behind himself.
“Then you should have sent out a warning,” Bull said harshly. “At least Ruben here had the sense to tell us they were coming.”
Jason cut in. “We weren’t sure what we saw,” he said. “They were only faint movements in the forest. I thought they were deer.”
Bull snorted and shook his head, but diverted his anger toward Jason then. “You should have known better,” he said.
“What’s done is done,” Ziegler said, ending the conversation then and there. “Let’s keep moving. Everyone keep your eyes open.” He turned and patted Ruben on the shoulder then. “Good job, Ruben,” Ziegler said.
The group set off without so much as dragging the wood sprite corpses out of the road. As they jogged down the road, Jonathan thought of Ruben whenever the stitch in his side returned. He was not going to spend the entire journey being outdone by a wizard, much less by Miranda’s fiancé. The boy’s willpower pushed him through the growing aches in his feet and legs until Ziegler ordered everyone to halt and make camp a short while after sundown.
Like the first night, there was no fire, but at least they had enough time to eat and drink from their supplies before turning in for sleep. Bull took first watch, and Ziegler was to take the second, with Ruben taking the third and final shift for the night.
As Jonathan made his bed for the night, he couldn’t help but wish that maybe, just maybe, something would come and disturb the camp during Ruben’s shift. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel so bad about the wood sprites from earlier in the day.
He was not to get his ill-conceived wish. In fact, the rest of the journey to Tirnog was completely smooth and free of any incidents whatsoever. After several more days of travel, the group stopped as the trees of the forest opened up to reveal a great city the likes of which Jonathan had never laid eyes upon. It was exactly as he had imagined it based upon the travel guide that the scholar had given him. He smiled and excitedly quickened his pace, ready to finally see in person the place he had imagined so many times in his mind.
Walls of white stone rose thirty feet into the air before them with crenelated parapets. Several guards dressed in white armor walked along the battlements, their flowing, golden cloaks waving behind them gracefully. Even from the ground Jonathan could easily see the spears the guards held, though they were not as large or foreboding as the slender halberds the guards near the gate wielded. Behind the walls rose a series of towers and spires of white stone that sparkled in the sunlight. Green ivy snaked up a few of the towers, but most were bare of any growth. Roofs of bronze tiles reflected the sunlight down and lent the city an almost heavenly appearance.
“Remember, we are here on holiday,” Ziegler said. “Ruben, you will accompany Bull, and Moose and me. Miranda, you will go with Jason and Jonathan. Try and find that mystical reserve.”
“Mystical Creature Preserve,” Jonathan corrected.
Ziegler eyed the young boy and exhaled impatiently. “We have another lead we will follow up on. There is an elf here named Gadrien who might be able to shed some light on things. He and Raven used to exchange letters from time to time.”
“As recently as last year, in fact,” Ruben put in.
Ziegler nodded. “We’ll go to his office. If we can’t find him there, then we will meet him at his home.” Ziegler turned to Jason then, obviously intending to address the ranking member of the three. “Jason, keep your eyes open. If you can’t find the Wyrebin,” Ziegler paused and eyed Jonathan suspiciously, “then meet us at Gadrien’s house. Here is the address. Anyone should be able to tell you where it is, just be sure to play along as though you are visiting a friend on holiday.”
Jason nodded dutifully. “Of course, Captain Ziegler.”
Ziegler nodded and then turned to his backpack, fishing out a roll of parchment. “These are our official papers. Elves are big on lists and order.”
“If no one knows about this mission, then how did you get official papers?” Jonathan blurted out.
Ruben raised a fist and coughed into it.
Ziegler smiled. “Ruben is more than a wizard. He can also make excellent copies of official documents.”
Jonathan looked to Ruben.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Ruben said. “I only use the skill when someone is in serious trouble.”
The others quietly fell into line and followed Ziegler as he walked to the front gate.
Jonathan shifted nervously when Miranda moved back in the line to walk between him and Jason. She smiled softly, her green eyes sparkling in the warm sunlight. Jonathan forced a smile and then walked half a step behind her as they approached the gates, stuffing his nerves down and deciding instead to focus on the sights around him. After all, he had never been to Tirnog before.
Ziegler gave the papers to the first guard, a tall elf the same height as Ziegler, but built much leaner. The elf turned and surveyed the group. The elf stood stoic, with angular features that showed something between disdain and indifference as his golden eyes inspected each member of the group. Jonathan tried to get a look at the elf’s pointed ears, but they, along with most of the elf’s hair, were covered by the helmet he wore. As Jonathan studied the helmet, he suddenly understood the difference between elves and men, at least in terms of craftsmanship.
In Fort Sym, or anywhere else groups of soldiers gathered together in Jonathan’s homeland, a guard’s helmet would have been little more than a large bowl of iron or steel shaped to fit around a man’s head. Some would have a strip of metal hanging down as a nose-guard, while other helmets wouldn’t. If the guard was lucky,
there might be a coif of chainmail hanging down to protect the neck. This elf, on the other hand, wore a helmet that appeared to consist of some sort of steel alloy, for it was yellow, almost golden in appearance. The main cap of the helmet formed the base layer, but built onto that were a pair of bronze wings that fanned out behind either side of the elf’s head. Each wing was formed with carefully etched feathers of bronze. The metal then extended down the elf’s neck, flaring out at the bottom to allow for movement. A hinged, curved piece of metal closed the front of the elf’s neck, but it was not a simple piece of metal, like one might find for a human’s visor. No, it had silver inlay along the outer rim, forming a pattern of swirling ivy and leaves. Though the elf’s face was uncovered, there was a visor that was resting atop the helmet, waiting to be pulled down to cover the face. Jonathan couldn’t see it clearly, but the glaring shine in the sunlight was more than enough to assure him that the visor was every bit as ornate as the rest of the helmet.
The rest of the guard’s armor was just as lavish. The white metal breastplate was carved to present the onlooker with a wall of pectoral and abdominal muscles flanked with a black metal inlay of ivy and leaves growing along the sides. Atop the collarbones, a cloak of gold was fastened to the breastplate with golden clasps. The legs were covered in greaves that attached via a series of leather buckles along the inner side of the legs, giving Jonathan a clear view of the golden colored trousers underneath the armor.
No human would have ever wasted the money, or the time for that matter, on creating such an elaborate set of armor for a city guard. A simple, smooth set of plate mail, or possibly even just a set of chainmail set over a leather hauberk would have been more than sufficient. Such was not the case here.
Nor was the armor the only overt difference between the two cultures either.
As they walked through the gates, Jonathan stopped and gawked at the mahogany door leading into the guard’s office inside the gatehouse. The door was arced, standing roughly eight feet at the apex, and every inch was carved into a scene of grape vines, fruit, and leaves. The more Jonathan studied the door, the more intricacies he found. There were honeybees, hummingbirds, and even a small caterpillar carved into the wood. The knocker itself was made of bronze, but cast in the shape of a hand holding an apple.
