Council of War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  "Come and sit with me," invited Karl. "I would like to ask you a few questions."

  Fakir Aziz led his mule into the clearing. He drove a piece of metal into the ground and tied his mule to it. Karl watched closely as the old man removed several packs from the mule and placed them on the ground. He removed a bowl shaped piece of canvas with ropes attached to it. He hung it over the mule's head and poured water from a skin into it. When he was done, the philosopher turned and walked over to Karl.

  "You have a strange sense of hospitality, Karl Gree."

  "We are in a strange place, Fakir Aziz. Sit and talk to me."

  Fakir glanced around the campsite and saw everyone staring at him. He frowned as he sat down, but he did not speak until Karl was seated facing him.

  "You have a man on a litter I see. Has he been wounded?"

  "He is dying," answered Karl. "He was bitten by a rabbit."

  "A rabbit?" Fakir asked with a raised eyebrow. "I never knew such a bite to be fatal."

  "Have you run across anything strange since you entered the Forest of Death?" asked Karl.

  "The whole trip has been strange," shrugged Fakir. "I found several packs abandoned a couple of days ago. I thought they might belong to your group. That is why I have been trying to catch up to you."

  "We did abandon some," confirmed Karl. "We lost our horses the first night out, and we couldn't carry it all. Why is it that you do not tie your mule to a tree?"

  "I don't care much for the trees in this forest," answered Fakir. "There is something not right about them. I have learned over the years to carry a small metal post with me. There are areas where there are no trees. It is a handy thing to have when you need one."

  "So I see," replied Karl. "Have you come across any animals?"

  "Can't say as I have," Fakir replied thoughtfully. "I have heard some at night. Wolves I think, but they don't normally like coming near a fire. You should have a fire going here. I almost missed this clearing. Who knows how long I would have pushed on into the night in search of you."

  "You have had fires the previous nights?" Karl questioned skeptically. "Where did you get the wood?"

  "There is lots of fuel for the fire all around us," replied the scholar. "One only has to go and pick it up. I only use what is already dead."

  Karl sighed in frustration. "Let's stop playing games, Fakir Aziz. You are not being truthful with me, and I want to know why."

  Fakir Aziz glared at Karl. "I take great offense at your accusation. A man is worth nothing more than his word, and to imply that I am not being honest is to insult me. I have gone out of my way to track you down and deliver your lost packs, and all I get from you are suspicions and insults. If you don't care to have me travel with your group, I will separate from you in the morning, but I am too tired this night to continue onward."

  "The wood in this forest doesn't burn properly," retorted Karl. "It sends out sparks that are likely to start a forest fire. How is it that you are capable of having a cooking fire, and we are not?"

  "I don't burn the wood," replied Fakir. "It is unsuitable for cooking. I burn the dead bark."

  Karl's eyes widened in surprise. He glanced at Clint who was standing near enough to hear what was being said. Clint nodded and ordered Max to join him in gathering some bark. Neither Karl nor Fakir spoke as the two Rangers moved into the forest and carried some dead branches into the clearing. They removed the bark and built a small fire in the center of the clearing. Within minutes they had a fire burning. Murmurs of joy spread through the campsite and Karl shook his head in wonder.

  "I apologize, Fakir Aziz. It would appear that I have much to learn yet. Have you seen nothing strange in this Forest of Death? Have you seen the eyes that stare into the clearing at night?"

  "Eyes?" asked Fakir. "What eyes would those be?"

  "Have you had dreams?" pressed the Knight of Alcea. "Have the trees moved during the night?"

  "I never dream that I know of," frowned Fakir. "I do not mean to demean those who do dream; I just have never experienced one. As for moving trees, I haven't really paid attention. I suppose they might sway in a stiff breeze, but I haven't encountered much wind since entering the forest. If you will excuse me for a moment, I should give my mule something to eat."

  Fakir Aziz rose and tended to his mule. Prince Rigal moved close to Karl and spoke softly.

  "I did smell smoke last night. It was faint which would indicate a fair distance from out campsite, but I do believe that he has been following us for a while."

  "How could he possibly not see the eyes?" asked Karl. "Are those creatures only interested in us?"

  "Look at the fire," instructed the elven prince, "and then look into the woods. Do you think we would have seen the eyes if we had had a fire each night?"

  "And he doesn't tie his mule to a tree," nodded Karl, "and I doubt if he hunts rabbits for his meals. I guess it is possible that he has not experienced what we have had to, but I am still skeptical."

  "As am I," agreed Prince Rigal, "but his presence here might help calm the others. The sailors are already crowding around the fire, and the brightness in their eyes is not a reflection of the flames. It is a glimmer of hope. Do not be so quick to make the old man separate from us."

  "Alright," agreed Karl. "As long as we have a fire going, let's get a warm meal started and some tea put on. How is Lyron?"

  "He is unresponsive," the elf replied with his eyes downcast. "He is neither alive nor dead, but rather hangs in that indescribable place between the two planes. I feel terrible about it."

  "Why do you feel terrible?" asked the Knight of Alcea. "His illness is not your fault."

  "No, it isn't," Prince Rigal replied despondently, "but my feelings regarding him are not the feelings worthy of a prince of elves. While I pray for his complete recovery, part of me wishes that he would die quickly. His illness is like a black cloud hanging over this camp, a constant reminder to everyone of the terrible dangers that exist all around us. Forcing the sailors to carry his litter each day is like reminding them of Alando and the fate that awaits each of them the moment one of us lets his guard down."

  "I understand," Karl replied sympathetically, "but it is out of our hands. It is best if we do not dwell on things that we cannot change."

  "I will see that a meal is started," the prince sighed as he turned away from the Knight of Alcea.

  Karl stood alone for a few minutes, his eyes taking in the activity of the campsite. He sighed wearily as he wondered how a Cordonian hunter could end up in charge of a group of men fighting their way through a magic forest far from his homeland. So absorbed was he in his thinking that the soft voice jolted him.

  "Something weighs heavy on your mind," said the philosopher.

  Karl turned and gazed into the eyes of Fakir Aziz. Slowly he nodded and let out a small sigh. "There is much to dwell on in the Forest of Death. The men have a fire going thanks to your help. You are welcome to join us for the meal and the night."

  "I thank you for your hospitality," smiled Fakir. "I have some provisions that will make a fine meal or two. What is really wrong with the elf on the litter?"

  Karl glanced at the stricken elf and returned his gaze to Fakir. "He was bitten by a rabbit. While that may not sound dangerous, apparently it is in the Forest of Death. His body has swelled with poison, and he has been unconscious for over a day. The other elves suspect that he will die during the night, but we will be taking him with us if he is alive in the morning. Creatures that die in this forest have a habit of coming back to life in a most disagreeable fashion. I would advise you to avoid anything and everything that you come across until you are free of the Forest of Death."

  "I will keep that in mind," replied Fakir. "Let me get something to make a nice stew. It looks as if your friends could use a hot meal."

  The tutor moved to his packs and carried one over to the fire. He chatted amicably with the sailors and got them involved in preparing the stew. Karl watched from a distance, his
attention divided between the lighter spirits of the campsite and the dark bleakness of the forest beyond the clearing. He watched the old man interact with the others and saw that the men were slowly recovering their former camaraderie. Even Gerant appeared less distant as everyone sat down to eat. After the meal, Karl announced the watch schedule. Everyone settled in for the night as Prince Rigal and Gerant took the first shift as sentries. An hour into the shift the distant howling began on schedule.

  "They sound farther away tonight," commented Prince Rigal.

  "For now," replied Gerant, "but the night is young."

  "Perhaps," mused the prince, "but maybe the fire is keeping them farther away. I wonder how Fakir Aziz thought to burn only the bark. I would have suspected that the bark was causing the flare ups."

  "Maybe he has been here before," speculated Gerant.

  "I am sure that he would have said so if he had been here before."

  "Would he have?" asked Gerant. "I am not so sure. There is a lot that the old man is not revealing."

  "How do you mean?" asked the prince.

  "Each of his words is chosen carefully," answered Gerant as he glanced over his shoulder to look at the sleeping shape of the tutor. "He never reveals more than he intends to."

  "You are rather suspicious of someone who just brought in supplies and shared them with all of us," remarked Prince Rigal.

  "A hardy last meal," scoffed Gerant. "While I enjoyed the stew and the tea, I am not about to be taken unawares by the seemingly harmless old man. I do not believe that his coming here tonight was accidental. We should be extra careful while he is among us."

  "You act as if you do not trust the old man."

  "That is right," confirmed Gerant. "I do not trust him. We are a group of warriors, and we have already lost two men and our horses. How is it that he can travel the same path with only a mule and arrive here unmolested?"

  "We have not lost two men yet," scowled Prince Rigal.

  "Lyron is as good as dead," retorted Gerant. "You are avoiding my question. How could Fakir Aziz possibly get here without experiencing at least some of what we have?"

  "I don't know," Prince Rigal admitted with a sigh. "I can construct a reasonable excuse for his not having experienced each of the strange things we have witnessed, but the truth is, I agree with you. It is highly unlikely that Fakir Aziz could get here without some knowledge of the things that have plagued us on this journey."

  "I think he is in league with the demonic forces of this forest," declared Gerant. "That is the only reasonable explanation."

  Chapter 15

  Lava Lake

  Karl Gree and Max Caber sat back to back staring into the dark forest. The woods were eerily silent, and a slight mist hung over the ground. The sentries had kept a low fire burning throughout the night, but it was starting to die.

  "We need to get more bark," Max said softly.

  "Dawn is not far off," replied Karl. "Let it wait until some of the others awaken. It would not do for us to abandon our posts to gather wood."

  "Alright," agreed the Ranger. "You know, this forest doesn't seem quite so bad with a fire burning through the night."

  "The fire certainly keeps the animals away," commented Karl, "but let's not forget that we are not in Alcea."

  "You think there is something worse than animals out there stalking us?" asked Max.

  "I don't know what to think," Karl admitted, "but I will take no unnecessary chances until we are out of these woods. While we have had no visit from the eyes tonight, I am not convinced that we are not being watched."

  "I have felt that we are being watched since we entered the Forest of Death," Max frowned. "The feeling has been so constant that I have begun to ignore it."

  "I haven't been able to ignore it," replied the Knight of Alcea as he stared at the thickening fog. "The mist is getting thicker."

  Max gazed across the clearing as the fog rolled into the campsite. "I don't like this," he stated anxiously as he stood up. "I can't see anyone in the camp now. It's like looking down on a cloud."

  Karl also rose to his feet and looked around. He thought he heard movement near the elves, but he couldn't be sure. "That came in awfully quick," he said softly. "Be alert. I am going to move around a bit."

  "Don't step on anyone," cautioned the Ranger.

  Karl heard a sound again, and he moved cautiously across the campsite, depending only on his recollection of where people were sleeping to guide him. He slowly moved to where he had thought that he had heard the sound and then stood motionless for several minutes. He heard no further sounds and started making his way back to Max. He had covered half the distance back to Max when his foot struck a body. He froze.

  "That's an awfully rude way of waking someone," groused Fakir Aziz as he rose out of the mist.

  "I am sorry," frowned Karl. "I thought you were sleeping more to the right."

  "Ah, I see your problem now that my eyes are open," Fakir smiled as he looked at the fog. "It's a wonder you didn't trip over me. How long before dawn?"

  "It's an hour away yet," answered Karl. "Go back to sleep."

  "No sense in going back to sleep for only an hour," replied the historian. "I will go gather some more bark for the morning fire."

  "Not until there is someone else to go with you," Karl shook his head. "No one leaves the campsite alone."

  "Nonsense," balked the old man. "I arrived alone, didn't I? I am sure that I can handle myself long enough to get some wood."

  Karl frowned and opened his mouth to object, but Fakir Aziz was already heading for the trees. He watched the old man alter his course as if he were detouring around something. That troubled the Knight of Alcea. Karl slowly made his way back to Max.

  "What is the old man up to?" asked Max.

  "He is off to get firewood," Karl replied distractedly. "I told him the camp rules, but he ignored me."

  "I doubt that he will be able to find any wood in this fog," stated Max. "I suspect he will return shortly."

  "I am not so sure," replied Karl. "He detoured around Clint's sleeping spot as if he could see him."

  "Maybe he memorized the layout of the campsite like you did."

  "Perhaps," Karl shook his head, "except Clint is not sleeping in the same spot as he was earlier in the night. He moved after his turn at watch."

  "Maybe the old man's eyes are better than yours," chuckled Max. "I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it. He seems harmless enough."

  A breeze suddenly moved through the campsite, and the fog twirled in the air as it thinned and dissipated. Ten minutes later the old man returned to the campsite. He made plenty of noise moving through the woods, and Karl waved him into the clearing when he saw him appear.

  "This ought to last until we pull out," smiled Fakir as he entered the clearing with an armload of bark. "I'll just get the fire stoked up a bit and put on some tea."

  "He acts like he doesn't have a care in the world," whispered Max. "Do you suppose he has been through these woods before?"

  "He said that he hasn't," answered Karl.

  The two warriors fell silent as they continued to watch the forest. A while later Fakir joined the men with cups of hot tea.

  "This will take the morning chill out of you."

  "Thank you," replied Karl as he accepted the cup of tea. He took a sip of the tea and looked at the historian. "Being a learned man, you must have heard many stories about the Forest of Death. Why aren't you afraid of it?"

  "Fear never accomplishes anything," answered Fakir.

  "Do you think the stories are false?" asked Max.

  Fakir hesitated in thought for a moment before answering. "People tend to embellish things far beyond their experiences. When others retell the tales, the horrors grow even further. That is not to say that I totally disbelieve all the stories about the Forest of Death, but rather that I take them with a grain of salt."

  "You will need no salt for our stories," stated Max. "Alando was killed when one
of our horses bit him, and Lyron is dying because a rabbit bit him. This forest is cursed in some way. There is no denying that."

  Loud voices emanated from near Lyron and Karl whirled around. Gerant was kneeling next to the litter, and Karl saw him pull a knife from his belt. He dropped the cup of tea and raced towards the elves. Max and Fakir followed him.

  "Gerant!" shouted Karl. "Stop!"

  The shouting woke everyone, and Gerant turned his head and stared at Karl with an expression of confusion on his face. Karl halted and stared down at Gerant.

  "What are you doing?" he asked accusingly.

  "Cutting Lyron's straps," Gerant replied. "He asked me to."

  Karl's face clouded with confusion and he looked at Lyron as Prince Rigal appeared alongside him.

  "I did ask him to," Lyron said. "Why am I tied up?"

  Prince Rigal knelt next to Lyron and examined his teeth. He ran his hand over Lyron's arm and hand and shook his head puzzlingly.

  "He seems to be fine," the elven prince announced. "Cut the straps, Gerant."

  Gerant looked at Karl, and the Knight of Alcea nodded his permission. Gerant severed the cords, and Lyron sat up and looked around at everyone staring at him.

  "Is there anything to eat?" asked Lyron. "I am famished."

  "The fire is hot," replied Fakir. "I will get you some tea."

  "He needs more than tea," stated Prince Rigal. "Gerant, take him to the fire and see that he gets a healthy meal."

  Gerant rose and helped Lyron get up. The two elves moved across the clearing and sat next to the fire.

  "It would appear that Lyron is not dying to a rabbit bite after all," Fakir said to Max. "I do hope we have some salt in the packs somewhere."

  Prince Rigal looked quizzically at the old man and then spoke to Karl. "I don't understand it. I thought we had lost him for sure, but his arm and hand are fine. The original wound has even healed nicely. It's as if it never happened."

  "Keep an eye on him," Karl replied. "I will take nothing for granted in this forest."

  Prince Rigal nodded in agreement and moved towards the fire.

  "Maybe that was the noise you heard earlier," Max said to Karl. "Perhaps Lyron was struggling with the cords binding him."