The Forge in the Forest

by Michael Scott Rohan

  The idea clawed at him. She was not even of his race, she was older by a lifetime than he and much wiser in the world's ways, with all the might and craft of her ancient race at her back. And she knew of Kara, had glimpsed her, perhaps, in the Tower. What could she ever feel for him, young, rootless, homeless both in body and in spirit?

  Even his name was of his own bestowing. Impossible, and yet… He looked at her now, laughing and joking with Arvhes and Ermahal up ahead, never so much as glancing back at him who walked silent and alone. Elof lashed the thought from his mind. The very idea was absurd.

  It was nine days' march through the Open Lands, and the mountains lay far behind them before they came in sight of the largest lake in the long chain so far, and knew it for their goal. On the map Ansker had given Kermorvan the jagged duergar script named it the Spearhead, for its shape, but high up as they were, they could see no more than its southern shores, its northern expanse lost beyond the horizon. The slaty waters lifted in the wind, flecked by a sweeping cloudburst; reeds hissed and bowed around the western shore, but all along its eastern flank a dark blur dipped and swayed. This was the wall of the true Forest, Aithen the Great, and its foliage shimmered under the clouds.

  "You're not telling me we've got to cross that?" shuddered Bure.

  "No, indeed!" smiled Kermorvan. "Only the river south of it, and there are fords and islets enough on Ansker's map; it will not be too arduous. But we must turn loose our ponies."

  "And after that?" asked Eysdan bluntly. "We have provender enough yet, with what the small folk gave us, but we cannot bear it all on our backs."

  "Strong servants await us there on the far bank," answered Kermorvan calmly. "Strong enough they look to bear not only our provisions but ourselves, for many long leagues on our way."

  "What do you mean?" asked the others eagerly, seeing that he had some scheme in mind.

  "I mean the currents, and the trees. We have in our baggage tools and tackle to fashion strong rafts, such as you northern foresters use for your timber. I had wit enough to foresee that need, at least! But first comes foremost; we must seek out our crossing. Come!"

  By midday they had found the first of their fords. The Westflood here flowed from the lake in many narrow channels which merged and separated and merged again, creating a patternless marshy maze a mile or more across. But Ansker's map led them straight and true; by evening they found themselves on a narrow wooded islet no more than a bowshot from the eastern bank, and the walls of the true Forest.

  "But the wall is breached!" said Kermorvan. "See that wide channel there, that crooks away from the others, past the islet about a mile downriver? Thenceforth the trees hide it. For that is our outflow, the river that flows deep among the trees."

  They made camp there among the trees that night, and even with water as their chiefest sentinel they kept their fires small and sheltered, and set a watch. Elof took the first hour, watching the faint fire glimmer on the long bare trunks of the firs around him, listening to the rush and swirl of the wind in their greater kin beyond. Even when Ermahal had come to relieve him, he lay long awake in his blanket by the fire, listening to the corsair skipper humming some slow chantey over the embers, wondering what other songs might be sung beyond that wall.

  The next day Kermorvan, who had taken the last watch, roused them all at the first trace of light, and set the company in a flurry of activity. The ponies were loaded at once, and, stumbling in the gloom, the company made its way down to a stand of huge old willows on the bank that marked the last ford. It was a poor ford; a slip on the weed-slimed rocks meant a plunge waist-deep into chill water and a strong current. The sure-footed ponies fared better than their masters, who had often to catch hold of their traces to avoid a ducking. The corsairs, hardened by colder ocean, would have laughed at the others' discomfort, save that the looming rampart of trees cast a shadow in their hearts; nobody felt eager to make much noise, and they even cried out and cursed in whispers. But when at last they reached the far bank the dawn glowed behind the trees, with a welcome promise of warmth. It was easier to remember then that the lowering wall was, after all, only trees, and not some sinister fortress.

  Kermorvan, wringing out his cloak, seemed well pleased, despite the others' complaints. "We need every moment of daylight for our toil. It must needs make noise, and attract attention. By day, and at the Forest's edge, I guess the risk is not so great. But when night falls I would sooner be far from here." Then, shivering with more than cold, the others agreed.

  The strongest and most practiced of the party, himself included, Kermorvan set to seeking out and felling suitable trees. They did not need to search far; even at the Forest wall there were many of good height. Though the giant redwoods of the coastlands were rarer among them, there were firs and cedars and spruces aplenty that seemed to burgeon in their absence. Elof touched the furrowed gray bark of the first fir, gazing up at it. "These are noble trees. I wish we did not have to fell them."

  Kermorvan, stripping off his tunic and hefting an axe, nodded with some regret. "I feel as you do. I would kill no living thing I did not have to."

  "Tree's a tree," said Gise the forester, faintly surprised. "Some fall, others come up in their place. The Forest's the thing. Look at it that-wise, fell sparingly and far apart as you can. Don't wound the wood too grievous and you won't turn it 'gainst you."

  "I have heard similar counsels of kingship," said Kermorvan, amused, and struck a well-placed blow that made the tall tree quiver from stem to crown. Small birds fluttered scolding from the leaves; a large squirrel bounded to a neighboring branch and clung chittering with rage. But Gise's blows followed Kermorvan's and a low cut chopped out the wedge. On the tree's far side Roc and Elof, under their direction, began to cut the notch that would determine its fall. The pungent reek of resin flooded stingingly into nose and eye. Not far away another treetop jerked and sprang at the bite of axes as Eysdan and Ils, aided by Dervhas and Kasse, set to their task with equal vigor. Elof found time to wonder amusedly if Ils had also shed tunic and shirt for her labor; that, if anything, might alter Kasse's view of her humanity.

  So hard did Kermorvan drive the felling parties that by the sunny mid-morning five tall trees lay by the bank, and a sixth trembled on its half-hewn stump. It was just as the sun reached its zenith that the tenth tree dropped along the line of its own short shadow, and the fellers let go their blunted axes and collapsed into the shade. Only Kermorvan stayed afoot, goading on the others of the company whose task it was to trim branch and root and, with the ponies, to drag the trunks to the river. Though his lean frame ran with sweat and his voice had thinned to a croak, his endurance seemed endless. An hour or two later he came striding back from the riverside with a leather wa-terbag, and splashed it over the exhausted fellers. "Come and marvel!" he called cheerfully, in his normal ringing voice. "You will have days ahead to lie idle!"

  Groaning and cursing, they struggled up and shuffled after him. But when Elof reached the bank, he was indeed surprised that so much had been done in so short a time. There, bobbing high in the current, two long rafts were tethered; the others of the company were toiling with hammer and nail, cord and chain, fastening the second together. Ils came along to join him, curls straggling from a refreshing douse in the river; he noticed she was fastening her tunic. "Look solid enough, don't they?" she laughed. "Four good trunks for each, with the half of a fifth on either side, and both longer than that little courier boat of ours. And see what the northern lad's about!" On the completed raft Tenvar was even putting together a makeshift canopy, roofed with leafy branches. "We'll ride like lords!"

  By the late afternoon both rafts had their canopies, indeed, and all the baggage was aboard. All that remained was for Gise, with Arvhes and Tenvar, to turn the ponies loose upon the western shore. Even Kermorvan in all his impatience was loth to abandon those game little beasts under the Forest's shadow. In the Open Lands they would find good grazing, and perhaps make their way back to the Northmar
ch, where they would fare well enough, wild or tame. But leading them back took time, leaving Kermorvan anxiously eyeing the sinking sun. At last, as the shadows lengthened, they espied the three drovers picking their way back across the last difficult ford. Arvhes fell in once, and Tenvar many times; Gise plucked them out by the scruff of their necks, like puppies. "They're too small! Heave 'em back!" jeered Kasse. But his raucous laughter rang alarmingly loud among the trees, and the others glared at him.

  "Quiet, Kasse!" commanded Kermorvan sharply, as the three came straggling ashore. "All well, Gise? Then to your rafts, and cast off!" He drew on one end of the forward mooring line, the knot slipped free, and with long poles they thrust the leading raft's blunt bow out into the current. The line that linked it to the second raft thrummed taut, and Elof jerked the moorings free. An eddy sucked at it; the blunt-nosed logs ground and jarred against yellow mud, and the water grew suddenly thick as milk. But poles, and the pull of the leading raft, freed it and together, as the sun fell behind the trees, the rough craft leaped out into the smooth onrush of the Westflood.

  Its flow was faster than it had seemed from the shore, and they found themselves hurled forward at a smart pace, with the breeze whipping at their hair. The younger folk of the company whooped with excitement, Ils loudest of all; Roc's cry went almost unheard till he seized Elof's arm and jabbed a hard finger at the receding shore. "There!" he hissed, to be heard through the river's rumble and rush. "There below the cedars! Can't you see 'em?"

  "Not a thing; no, a few boughs shaking, perhaps. Some beast…"

  "With suchlike eyes? They were watching us, no mistake, really watching. But not like a man's neither…"

  "Green? Cat-like? The Forest folk have such eyes…"

  Roc shuddered. "Naught so wholesome. Just… two gleams. Slanting, yellow. Maybe they caught the last sun, I don't know. But they sent a proper chill through me, they did."

  Elof looked around. Nobody on the leading raft seemed to have seen anything, and nobody else on their own. Ermahal leaned unconcerned on the steering oar; Tenvar and Bure sat in the bows, enjoying the ride, and Arvhes dozed peacefully on the baggage. Only Kasse gazed at the shore, and he gave no sign of having seen anything. "I believe you, nonetheless," said Elof quietly. "Whatever they were, they prove one thing; Kermorvan did right to goad us hence so fast. I would not now care to linger by that ford, after dark."

  Roc nodded. They were glad to see Kermorvan ahead of them shift his weight on the steering oar and take the raft further from the bank, aiming it straight down the center of the stream that flowed down the divergent channel. Their own matched it smoothly, as Ermahal followed suit. Kermorvan's way with boats he had gained chiefly at sea, so he had taken Ils to advise him, skilled at sailing the shadowed mountain rivers, and put Ermahal in charge of the second raft. The skipper was probably the most practiced waterman of them all, whether on sea or river, and he seemed glad to be at a helm again. His screwed-up eyes scanned the river ahead with keen appraisal, watching every little shift in the water's flow as they passed between islet and shore, and when they rounded the sharp turn at its end it was he who called the first warning.

  Ahead of them, like an outstretched limb of the island, a low shelf of rock thrust out halfway across the river, just below the surface, so that the water bubbled and foamed across it, like a natural weir. It was onto this that the current was carrying them, faster already than a horse could gallop, and with no chance whatsoever of steering for the clear channel. "Down, and grab 'old!" yelled Ermahal. Elof saw Kermorvan fall on his steering oar and sweep it from the water, and after that there was little any could do save throw themselves flat upon the logs. With a booming crash, a dreadful scraping, the first raft hit, slewed sideways a moment so Elof feared they would strike it amidships, then it was lurching up and over. Elof saw its stern bounce and settle, then the impact took and shook him, rattling his very teeth in their sockets. His raft tilted and water sluiced along the logs; there was a roar of rage from Arvhes as the awning toppled onto him, then that terrible scraping once again. Elof felt the logs judder under him, heard the crosspieces creak with the strain, and then the whole craft slid bouncing and splashing into the wider channel.

  "Well," said Kermorvan as they strove in the fading light to set the rafts in order again. "That is one feature your father's map did not show, Ils! No doubt there will be more; we must keep a proper watch, especially when faring on through the dark."

  "You'd no thought of doing that tonight, had you?" inquired Elof, among groans and protests.

  Kermorvan shook his head. "No, tonight we are all too weary. We will find somewhere to moor and sleep if we can. There are some islands marked a way downriver, too far perhaps for tonight. But we must find somewhere safe."

  All of the company understood him, for in rounding that bend in the river and crossing the weir they had lost their last sight of the Open Lands, and of the west. Both banks now were high walls that closed in as completely behind them as ahead. Wherever they looked, they saw nothing save rank upon rank of trees, upthrust at the sky above, mirrored in the river below. Aithen the Great, the Forest realm, had closed its gates behind them.

  So it was that as the last light faded from the sky, the rafts glided on down the stream. It was a clear night, but warmer as the wind fell. The Forest was beyond sight for the moment, dark upon darkness, but never out of mind; the wafting odors of pine sap and tar and damp humus bespoke its awesome presence, and the myriad scurryings and snufflings of its small night-dwellers. Then the stars came out, and the moon arose, dusting the treetops silver. Their dark reflections narrowed the river, but the rafts sailed on serenely down the strip of sky mirrored at its center, across shoals of glittering cloud and deeps of starry blackness. By then most of the company not on watch lay asleep, but Elof could not; he moved astern to sit by Ermahal, who seemed quite happy to go on steering.

  "And why not? Grand night to be out on the river again, like when I was a lad. Grew up on a river barge, I did, d'you know that? Used to borrow the tender to take the lasses for rows on a moonlit night like this." He chuckled. "Worked a treat, did the moon. You ever do that?"

  Elof shook his head regretfully. "Nothing but swink and study. There were no lasses where I grew up. Save one."

  The corsair nodded, not unkindly. "Aye, 'er you seek, would that be? Guessed as much. Must be quite a lass, to 'aul you so far."

  "She is."

  Ermahal was obviously expecting more details, but when none came he sighed and scratched his head. "Ah well, I might've felt the same when I was your age, if only for the adventure of it. Not now I'm old."

  "You? You are no graybeard yet!"

  "Five winters short of my 'alf-'undred. Twice your age, if I guess aright."

  "More or less. I cannot be sure of it myself."

  "Well, there you 'as it. Precious few lasses'd fetch me out into the wilds now. Save one, p'raps, 'er I used to go with that many years back. Pretty's a picture, all long blond curls to her waist and a bold blue eye on her like a summer sky. A fine shape, too, that a man could get a hold of. 'Er beckonin' me to come, and I wouldn't, not me, seein' I was on first watch an' all. Funny, that. Seeing 'er again, after all these years, just the same, beckonin', beckonin'… On one of them big willows down by the ford. Fancy."

  Elof looked up in astonishment. Ermahal looked much as he always did, if anything calmer and more serene; the moonlight seemed to have smoothed away some of the salt-hardened lines from his broad face. Perhaps that was why he was wandering in memory, seeming to talk of his memories as if they were only of last night. "Sittin' on the tree limb, out over the water bold as brass, swingin' those plump little legs and beckonin'…" His voice tailed away, and when he spoke again it was of another and less innocent memory. He did not mention the girl again.

  They had at last to accept that they could not reach any islands that night, and chose to moor on an out-thrust sandspit, wide enough for them to sleep on but narrow enough to be guarded
by one. Ermahal, still apparently unwearied, offered to take the first watch once more, and was not opposed; even Kermorvan was stumbling with weariness. But Elof, though he also wished to sleep, was concerned enough to seek out Kermorvan, and tell him of Ermahal's words. Kermorvan also looked concerned, but not unduly so. "I know of few men less given to fancies than he. Perhaps it was only weariness that spoke, and the strains of a long day. Still, we should have a care for him. You travel on his raft; watch him, and if anything seems worse about him, summon me at once. And now I must have some sleep, if I am not to start babbling also."

  Elof agreed with Kermorvan's judgment; the corsair skipper was a hard man to daunt. At their first encounter he had feared anything that might have strayed off the Marshlands, but he had not been afraid to fight it. Sitting on watch now, leaning on his steelbound halberd, he looked the very image of solidity and strength. But when he awakened Kermorvan for the second watch, some two hours later, Elof also awoke. The corsair rolled himself in his blankets, grunting comfortably, and appeared to drift off at once. But only a few minutes after, when Kermorvan's attention was fixed upon the wood, Elof saw the skipper sit up, clutching his blankets nervously to him, and stare fixedly across the dark waters around. Then with a disappointed sigh, he lay down and at last began to snore.