After riding a couple of hours on the second day, the road entered a forest of oak and maple. Not more than a hundred yards into the woods Tjaden came to a fork. The sudden split puzzled him; Darieus hadn’t mentioned it.
He paused in the center of the road to consider the options. There were no signs, no tracks in the road, and no indication which way was correct. Deep in thought, he nearly fell off his horse when he heard what sounded like a boy clearing his throat. Ripping his sword from its scabbard, he demanded, “Who’s there?”
Looking about he saw no one. He was alone on the road. In his wary state he instantly located the source of the noise when it sounded again. Lounging in the neck of a tree was a large cat. It was grey with broad black stripes, plain except for the broad smile that extended past the sides of its face. That and the odd sounds it made. The teeth were sharp like any other cat’s teeth, but it had way too many of them.
“How do?” annunciated the cat.
Tjaden stared in surprise.
“I say, how…do…you…do?” it repeated.
“I…ahem. Did you say something?”
“No, I did not say ‘something’. I merely inquired after your current state of well-being. Or poor-being as the case may be.”
The animal continued to smile a ridiculously wide grin.
Tjaden had no idea how to answer. “I’m…uh, a bit confused, I suppose.”
“Oh wonderful!” said the strange cat. “Imagine the two of us meeting in the exact same state of mind. Forgive me, I’ve forgotten your name already.”
“I haven’t given it,” replied Tjaden.
“I don’t want you to give me your name. I’ve a perfectly good one, after all. And besides, I have nothing to give you, and Cheshire simply would not work. You’re much too serious.”
Still trying to figure out the strange creature, Tjaden asked, “Are you…a cat?”
“Heavens, no. I am a Cheshire Cat.”
“A Cheshire Cat is still a cat.”
“And a sea horse is a horse. A prairie dog is a dog. And a woman is a man.”
After pausing to consider, Tjaden said, “I see your point. So you’re not a cat.”
“And you’re not a cat either. That makes four things we have in common.” As if to remind himself he counted them off, “—confusion, the name Cheshire, not being a cat, and having four things in common with each other.”
“I believe that’s only three things,” started Tjaden. “Wait, my name’s not Cheshire. It’s Tjaden.”
“What’s Tjaden?”
“I‘m Tjaden.”
“Oh dear. Well do you like to scratch behind your left ear like so?” The curious animal reached its right forepaw around its head and scratched vigorously.
“Well, no.”
“Aha! Me neither. That’s three things again!”
Frustrated, Tjaden asked, “Can you just tell me which way to go?”
It chuckled and in its pleasant voice answered, “Ah, they always want me to tell them which way to go.”
“Who do?”
“You do.”
“Who’s you?”
“You who ask me which way to go, of course! My dear boy, I would not say you are confused.”
“I assure you, I am.” Tjaden rubbed his temples.
With a thoughtful look on its smiling face, the cat-like creature replied, “Discombobulated, maybe. Flummoxed, perhaps.”
Tjaden ignored the assessment. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”
“Whatever for? After all, it matters much less where you are than which direction you are going.” Its smile seemed to broaden even more at this.
Determined to get some guidance he asked, “Which of these is the Harbinger Spoke?”
“Is that a riddle?” Its eyes brightened. “Let me see…”
Tjaden interrupted, “No, it’s not a riddle. I just want to know which of these roads will take me northwest.”
“This road,” it answered, signaling to the right with one paw, “will take you west. And this one,” pointing left, “will take you north. So, to go northwest you simply must take both of them. Now I’m catching onto your riddles, my boy.”
“No, not really.”
“I have an idea. A perfectly wonderful idea. If you wish to go northwest simply go back the way you came, turn around, and walk toward me.”
Tjaden tried once more, “Which of these two roads will lead me to the Tumtum tree?”
After clearing its throat, it answered:
The Tumtum tree, the Tumtum tree,
King of forests, quarry’s bane.
Arrive in peace; there’ll be a feast.
And there you shall remain.
The Cheshire Cat made less sense the longer the conversation continued. Very pleased with itself it went on, “And you’d do well to remember that, lad.”
“I give up, I’ll just choose one.”
“We all make choices,” said the Cheshire Cat. “We just don’t make consequences.”
Shaking his head, Tjaden started on the northward fork.
“A fine choice, Master Tjaden,” the feline affirmed.
“And what if I would’ve gone the other direction?”
“Do you like stories? A whatif, a shooduv, a round tuit, and a diddit all started down a path much like the ones you see before you. I’m not going to say how the story ends, but even a muddled youth such as yourself should know who reached their destination first.”
Curiosity outweighing his frustration, Tjaden switched directions and started down the westward path.
Again the complimentary animal offered, “Might I once again commend you on a fine choice?”
More confused than ever, Tjaden continued west. After traveling less than a mile the road angled to the northwest and soon merged with an identical road he could only assume came from the fork where he’d seen the Cheshire Cat.
Why didn’t the fool just tell me they both led to the same place? He answered his own question, hearing the Cheshire Cat’s voice in his head: Why didn’t you ask?
Two and a half days later Tjaden reached the path that led to the Tumtum tree. It was easy to spot; Darieus had described it perfectly. The forest had been sparse yet evenly wooded. Within a span of fifty paces the trees along one side of the Spoke were clumped closer and closer together until there wasn’t room for a man to walk through. The thick portion only stretched a hundred paces along the Harbinger Spoke, but there was a clear path directly in the middle of it. Night was approaching and he was reluctant to enter the dark path at dusk so he made camp.
The exhaustion of four days hard travel by horseback helped him fall asleep, but the nerves from what lay ahead made it a restless sleep. By the time he woke he was not sure if he was equal to his task. Until recently he never would have considered it, but a slight fear of failure nagged at his mind. However, live or die he would do what he could to rescue Elora. The only way to conquer his doubt was to act, so he mounted and prompted the horses forward.
Almost as soon as he was on the path it became as dark as a moonless night. The canopy was tall enough for him to travel astride his horse, but just barely. Minute specks of light occasionally shone through, like sporadic stars. The path seemed straight, but in the darkness he couldn’t be sure. A slight bend would change his course considerably over the miles.
The absence of forest sounds as he traveled in tree-framed tunnel was almost palpable. There was no room for birds or animals to move around in the woods, and the thick foliage kept any wind out. The sensation was so foreign, he almost felt like he wandered through an underground cave.
Hours passed. Tjaden stopped occasionally to scrape out a hole where small streams crossed the path in order for him and the horses to drink. Sparse grass lined the edges of the trail and the horses devoured it greedily. So intent on the grass were they that it was difficult to get them to give it up. Though hunger for the thin grass led them slowly forward on the trail, the sluggish pace irked Tjaden. Only
with much coaxing was he able to draw the horses away from the grass.
Into the forest he traveled, deeper and deeper like a hare in a burrow. An hour or so after the star-specks disappeared overhead he stopped to sleep.
When the sunlight poked through the canopy like stars he resumed his journey. The passing of time was impossible to track, but eventually a hazy light appeared ahead of Tjaden. It was unmistakable because no other light source existed in the dense forest. The opening was not directly ahead of him, as he expected it would be, instead it shone from behind a bend in the path. When the full light came into view he realized the path had a significant curve.
I’ve probably been walking in a tightening spiral since I started on the path.
His exhaustion faded as he pushed forward, yearning for light and freedom from the oppressive forest. Despite his desire for open sky, he entered the clearing carefully, and saw that it was mostly empty. There were no trees or other vegetation over a space of twenty paces leading up to a gigantic tree that reached higher than Tjaden could see. The Tumtum tree.
With his sword drawn he examined the rest of the clearing. In one area the ground was in upheaval, having recently been plowed in some areas but not by human hands or tools. Adjacent to the disturbed earth Tjaden saw a faint imprint of a wagon wheel with one bent spoke. A wooden stake, a strip of dark blue cloth, and a small branch lay untidily near the center.
How would anyone get a wagon in here? The odd diagram meant nothing.
After inspecting the clearing he sheathed his sword, leaned against the tree, and pondered his task in the fading light. Thoughts flooded his mind—where he had come from, what it had taken to get here, and why he had to do what he had to do. Then he visualized the next few days—find the Jabberwocky, kill him, rescue Elora.
A faint sound, like breathing from a distance, brought him upright, listening. Slowly he drew his sword and stood ready. Time passed and the sound did not change, an uneven rush of air. He circled the entire clearing as silently as possible, but he was still alone. Twilight played games with his vision.
Looking up he noticed the tree tops swayed in tune with the sound. The wind, he thought with relief. The confinement of the dense innards of the forest had made him extra sensitive.
After tethering the horses just inside the path, Tjaden shouldered his pack and scaled the rough bark of the Tumtum tree to the first branch. Near the fork of the wide branch was an opening in the tree like a hole that a large squirrel would live in. Darieus’ description was perfect. Tjaden had to squeeze through the opening, but found a chamber inside the tree that was almost tall enough to stand in.
He dropped his traveling gear on the pulpy floor. In the far corner of the cavity was a hole with a ladder that led downward through the pith of the tree. As much as he longed to rush down, dusk was no time to emerge from the other end. If Elora was still alive, and she had to be, she could wait one more night.
Darieus had instructed him to sleep in the Tumtum tree’s enclave. Supposedly it was essential to the success of his mission but Darieus refused to explain why. However, after walking through the oppressive forest for days, he wanted nothing to do with the cramped quarters.
This is my mission now. I don’t need his help.
Taking only his bedroll, dinner, and sword, he descended. Night had fallen in the strange clearing, but it still offered more light than the tunnel. Leaning against the base of the huge tree, Tjaden ate a cold dinner. He spent the next hour visualizing his sword piercing the Jabberwocky’s heart. Elora was watching and he finally felt like a hero.
When his thoughts and dreams began to merge he pulled the bedroll up, and leaning against the massive tree, he slept.
PART IV
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
Tjaden walked through the dense tunnel of trees. Instead of stillness, malice surrounded him. The forest sent probing vines that snared him and tried to choke the life out of him. Terrified, he remained still, without resisting or drawing his sword as the forest claimed him. All the while, the Cheshire Cat trilled, “Arrive in peace; there’ll be a feast!”
Tjaden’s horses screamed, yanking him from the dream. Shooting up to a seated position, he looked around. The horses’ shrieks sounded like they came from terrified women. Tjaden grabbed his sword and tried to stand, but he was held tightly to the ground. There was enough moonlight in the clearing to make out what looked like roots which had grown over his legs while he slept. They didn’t constrict, but were too tight for him to free himself.
From his awkward position he hacked at the plants, which tightened immediately. Unable to use the full range of his swing, it took ten or fifteen strikes to chop through a single root. More tendrils came out of the ground to replace the ones he hacked through and Tjaden intensified his slashing, all the while hearing the shrill cries of the horse. After a quarter hour he had freed all but one ankle. He stood, exhausted, and three swipes later he was clear.
Tjaden rushed to the entrance to the path and saw that the animals were much more entwined than he had been. In addition to roots like that those that had bound him, the horses were assailed by vines extending from the trees. All of their legs were wrapped, and a few vines reached completely around their bodies and necks. The vines weren’t as hardy as the roots, but moved much faster, writhing and slithering in the air. In between screams the animals bit at the vines, but they were losing ground fast.
As soon as Tjaden began hacking at the plants, two vines released one horse’s leg and moved quickly along the ground, sniffing out Tjaden like blind snakes. He backed up and fought them off, shocked at how fast they moved. The detachment of the two vines did nothing to lessen the horses’ entanglement.
He tripped on tendrils and roots and realized the area where he stood was filling with them. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to run to the tree, but two roots had already wrapped one ankle and more vines stretched toward him. He chopped through the roots and sprung in four long strides to the base of the tree. It pained him to abandon the horses, but there was nothing he could do for them. With sword in hand, he scaled the tree and sat defensively on the first branch. No roots, vines, or tendrils attacked him.
Tjaden was still out of breath when the horses went silent. Sounds of wringing, and an occasional crack of the animals’ large bones filled the clearing and he ducked into the cavity of the Tumtum tree to escape the grotesque noise.
The enclave was free of unfriendly plant life. As far away from the door as possible, he leaned against the wall of the tree with his sword still drawn and cursed himself for not being able to save the horses. Unable to think of anything that would have made a difference, he cursed Darieus.
The disturbing noises continued, but after a very long time Tjaden fell asleep.
When Tjaden woke, sunlight poured into the Tumtum tree’s interior. He was sore from the struggle in the night, but happy to be alive. With his sword ready he crawled out onto the wide branch and inspected the clearing. It was vacant. There was no sign of his bed roll and no sign of struggle. Moving farther out on the branch he could see into the path where his horses had been attacked. Again there was no sign of the horses and the ground appeared undisturbed. Tjaden’s heart sunk, but he forced himself to focus on the reason he was there.
With determination he entered the Tumtum tree. Luckily he had left his pack inside the tree instead of taking it with him to the clearing, and it still leaned against the tree wall. Kneeling next to it, he removed the glass container that held the female Jabberwocky’s scent. After unwrapping the padding he tied it to his belt. Without delay, he descended the manmade ladder at the inner edge of the tree’s cavity. The climb down the ladder was much longer than the climb up the bark to the branch, placing him below ground.
The passage felt like it had been scraped with tools long ago. The wall
s were woody. Not hard like a branch, but soft like the inside of a root, and Tjaden assumed that must be the case. He had to rely on his sense of touch, for the passageway was as black as the path through the tulgey woods.
He trod on, one hand on the wall of the corridor the other on the hilt of his vorpal sword. With each step he felt the weight of the sealed container that held the Jabberwocky essence. Darieus had lied about so many things Tjaden couldn’t help but wonder if the tincture in the flask would have any effect on the Jabberwocky.
The lack of confidence was still foreign to him, even after the doubts of the night before the dark burrow. He was a lone recruit, and only an average recruit at that. His only tools were determination and a flask that had been given him by an unscrupulous egotist. Only a madman would attempt such an assault. But Elora might be at the end of the tunnel, and nothing could make him turn back.
Hundreds of paces later, the passageway began to narrow and angle upward. He could reach up and touch the top of the root corridor. An opening ahead admitted some light and he saw that the walls and floor were stringy. He slowed his pace, his heart racing and a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
Creeping within an arm’s reach of the narrow opening that led into daylight, Tjaden didn’t dare peek out. He didn’t need to. Standing near the mouth of the tunnel he felt a slight breeze start and stop in rhythm with the sound of resonant breathing. The rotten air current revolted him as it cooled his sweaty brow.
With determination, Tjaden loosened the tie on the container at his hip. Sweaty hands made it difficult, but he chipped off the wax seal.
Clenching his teeth and taking a deep breath, he grasped the lid and…heard a voice. A human voice. Someone was singing, and as he listened to the melancholy dirge he realized it was Elora. Tears sprang immediately to his eyes. Though he’d never accepted the fact that she might actually be dead, he was filled with relief.
Jabberwocky Page 10
