ã€ŠJames of Galendarã€‹


 Perrin

    The boy laughed, running after his older brother, his bare feet beating a path through the tickling blades of grass.

    ¡®Wait, Perrin! You¡¯re going too fast! Let me catch up!¡¯

    Perrin turned, smiling at the distant silhouette of his brother running down the green tunnel of the Willow Barrow.

    ¡®I thought you said you could run faster than me, Tarris!¡¯ Perrin laughed, his blonde hair flaring in the dappled light slanting through the weave.

    ¡®I¡¯ve got a stitch!¡¯ Tarris replied breathlessly. ¡®It¡¯s mother¡¯s rennel pie, it sits too heavily!¡¯

    ¡®I have no doubt that it sits heavily¡¯, Perrin gleefully shouted over his shoulder, ¡®you ate enough for the both of us!¡¯

    When Perrin finally reached the end of the tunnel, he stopped to catch his breath. The swaying green branches that formed one of the great tubes of the Willow Barrow ended upon a small rise, overlooking the wide valley below. Framed within the shifting weave of the tunnel entrance, the town looked small and fragile beneath the soaring peaks of the snow-capped mountains towering above it.

    It was only after his breathing had returned to normal that he wondered why he suddenly felt so unsettled. Ducking his head from the tunnel¡¯s edge, a cloud of butterflies scattered into the breeze filling the air with fluttering fragments of gold. It was a beautiful day in late summer; the sky was a deep blue furnished with cotton-white cloud, the air ripe with the sweet scents of the meadow. But despite these assurances that all was well, something felt wrong.

    It wasn¡¯t until he heard the soft footfalls of his younger brother approaching from behind, that he finally realised what it was: it was quiet¡­ it was far too quiet.

    From a distance, the Willow Barrow resembled an overgrown bramble patch perched upon the top of Willow Hill. But up close, it resembled anything but a tangle of brambles. Once you were standing beside the Barrow, it appeared less of a plant than it did a living structure; somehow woven out of countless switches of green willow. If you were a child brave enough to enter one of its many tunnels, you realised the inside was stranger still, for its insides were riven with chambers, like the inside of a great apple devoured by hungry maggots.

    The Willow Barrow was a relic of the mysterious Foresters, a reclusive and ancient race of forest-dwellers who hadn¡¯t been seen nor heard of upon the plains in three hundred turns. Perrin¡¯s father had once told him that the great forest of the Gelding, the ancestral home of the Foresters, had once stretched as far as the Klovelli Mountains themselves, and that the Barrow was the only thing that had survived the forest¡¯s retreat.

    But, whatever the Barrow might once have been to the Foresters, its use had long since been lost to time and memory. Now it merely existed as an exciting playground for the town¡¯s more adventurous children, and on a fine day such as today, the Barrow should have been filled with the excited screams and laughter of their friends chasing one another down its meandering tunnels.

    So where was everyone?

    When Tarris eventually emerged from the tunnel entrance he was sorely winded, but still managed a tired swipe at his older brother¡¯s shoulder. Absently brushing the punch away, Perrin continued to frown at the sea of thatched rooftops far below.

    ¡®Did you see Willis or Jem today?¡¯ Perrin asked distractedly.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t see anyone this morning,¡¯ Tarris replied, sitting heavily upon the soft grass, panting and clutching at his side. ¡®Don¡¯t you remember that it was my turn to collect water this morning? Almost broke me back carryin¡¯ them pails back from the well. I made seven trips up Tinder Hill, Perrin! Seven!¡¯ he gasped, screwing his face up in disgust.

    ¡®Mother needs our help, Tarris, you know this,¡¯ Perrin sighed, dropping to sit beside his brother and aiming a belated punch in return.

    ¡®I know,¡¯ Tarris replied meekly, rubbing his shoulder, ¡®but, seven times, Perrin!¡¯

    ¡®Where can everyone be?¡¯ Perrin muttered, ignoring his brother¡¯s continued lament.

    He himself had spent the whole day working in the flour mill, filling Hessian sacks from where the three great mill stones rumbled and groaned like disgruntled bears. For ten hours each day, the three great stones were his only company, until he was grudgingly released from his toil by the bad-tempered mill owner, Mr Parson. Typically, it wasn¡¯t until the sun had fully set that he would emerge from his toil, painted as white as a ghost by the flecks of flour stuck to his body. But today, there had been a problem with the waterwheel and Mr Parson had granted him an early reprieve.

    A warm breeze swept up from the meadow beyond, carrying with it the fragrant scent of wildflowers and warm grass. The green weave of the tunnel rocked gently from side to side, the sound of its shifting stalks like the distant roll of waves.

    ¡®Perrin?¡¯ Tarris said, his voice suddenly sombre.

    Perrin turned to look at his brother and found his narrowed eyes focused determinedly on the clouds scudding across the blue sky.

    ¡®What?¡¯ he replied, staring back across the meadow to where thin wisps of smoke curled from crooked stone chimneys.

    ¡®I love you and mother,¡¯ the boy replied quietly.

    Perrin looked down at his brother and smiled. He was about to tease him for what he had said, when he noticed a familiar sadness settle upon his brother¡¯s eyes.

    ¡®I love you and mother also,¡¯ Perrin paused, following his brother¡¯s eyes up into the clouds. ¡®But, what makes you say such a thing now?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know. I guess I just realised how much I¡­¡¯ his voice trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

    ¡®We will be quite all right without father,¡¯ Perrin said, his voice picking over the words as though they were cold to the touch. ¡®We are the men of the house now.¡¯

    ¡®I know,¡¯ Tarris replied quietly. ¡®But¡­ do you think mother will take another of the men-folk into our home?¡¯

    ¡®You know better than to ask such things, Tarris!¡¯ Perrin chided, ruffling his brother¡¯s hair as his father had once done. ¡®Mother would never take another, not when she has the two of us looking after her. She loved father more than we ever could. She will not forget him in the arms of another.¡¯

    ¡®But we have no money!¡¯ Tarris replied with exasperation.

    Perrin¡¯s face darkened and he turned so that his brother could not read the same doubts lingering there. Since the death of their father the previous summer, they had been struggling to make ends meet. The few copper pennies he earned each week from the mill were just barely enough to feed them. Only yesterday he had overheard the quiet conversation between his mother and their landlord Mr Berrymead, who had grumbled that the rent hadn¡¯t been paid for the past three moons. His heart ached when he remembered how his mother had quietly sobbed after the man had left their home, how she had valiantly pretended to them that her tears were due to the dust rising from her cleaning.

    Forcing a poor imitation of a smile upon his face, Perrin aimed another punch at his younger brother¡¯s shoulder. Tarris smiled and before long, they were laughing once more, wrestling upon the sweet-smelling grass; their cares and worries momentarily lost in the love they shared for one another.

    Their play was suddenly cut short by the sound of bells chiming upon the air. The two brothers abruptly stopped their play and sat up. Again, Perrin gazed distrustfully at the distant town sitting lazily beneath the late afternoon sun. The nagging feeling that something was wrong returned upon the breeze like a quiet whisper.

    ¡®The Marris¡¯ wedding isn¡¯t today, is it?¡¯ Perrin asked, quickly getting to his feet and shielding his eyes.

    ¡®Nope, that¡¯s not until the next Forest Moon in three days¡¯ time,¡¯ the younger brother said, apparently losing interest in the chimes still carrying upon the air. ¡®Mother says I can have my first flagon of ale during the celebration!¡¯ he said, proudly puffing out his chest.

    ¡®First thimble of ale more likely,¡¯ Perrin muttered, grinning at his brother¡¯s darkening scowl from the corner of his eye. ¡®But, if not a wedding, it can only be a welcoming.¡¯

    ¡®Who would the town welcome at this time of year?¡¯ Tarris replied, snapping a piece of willowing from the tunnel and twisting it into a hoop. ¡®And who could be bothered to visit Pinhoe in the first place?¡¯

    The broken half of the willowing slowly melted against its own edge, forming a seamless circle of green; a trick that all of the children had learnt to do over the years.

    ¡®I know I wouldn¡¯t,¡¯ the young boy sighed, absently tossing the hoop into the breeze where it hovered for a moment before tumbling to the ground.

    Perrin shook his head, lost in thought.

    ¡®Want to find out?¡¯ Perrin said, stooping to pick up the hoop from where it had fetched up against his foot.

    ¡®But we only just got here!¡¯ Tarris replied sulkily. ¡®We were going to play hide and seek. And you still haven¡¯t shown me how to find the Willow-Chamber!¡¯

    ¡®We can do that another time, Tarris! Are you not interested in who the visitors might be? It could be a nobleman from one of the five kingdoms, or¡­ why, it could even be Foresters!¡¯ Perrin said, a knowing grin spreading across his lips.

    ¡®Foresters?¡¯ Tarris said, his mouth agape.

    ¡®Yes! A band of Foresters with their hair as black as soot, their wooden swords swinging at their hips! Wouldn¡¯t you like to see that?¡¯

    ¡®Not really,¡¯ the boy replied sulkily, his arms crossed defiantly across his chest. ¡®I¡¯d much rather play!¡¯

    ¡®Oh Tarris!¡¯ Perrin sighed, absently spinning the hoop of willowing on his finger. ¡®How about this, we go back into town and find the rest of the gang, then bring them back here so we can have us a proper game!¡¯

    ¡®Oh all right,¡¯ Tarris grudgingly conceded, kicking his bare foot against the soft turf. ¡®But you have to give me a head start! This time, hold your breath twice, and if I get home first, you have to show me the Willow-Chamber when we get back! Do we have a deal?¡¯

    ¡®Deal!¡¯ Perrin laughed, and promptly drew in a huge breath.

    Tarris yelped, and turned tail, sprinting away down the hillside and into the meadow, his tangled blonde hair trailing behind him like a golden tail.

    Perrin let his breath out slowly and walked from out of the willowing with a smile.

    He¡¯d let his brother win, just this once.

    ***

    Perrin halted when he reached the small market square. The twelve tarnished bells now lay silent within their wooden cradles, but a large crowd of town folk had gathered beneath the sloping roof of the bell tower. It was indeed a welcoming, and it seemed that most of the town had turned out in greeting. It had to be someone important, Perrin thought as he drew nearer, for even the farm labourers had been drawn from the fields; their sweaty faces plastered with red soil.

    For one wild moment, Perrin even started to believe that some nobleman had indeed deemed to pay their sleepy little town a visit. But even a nobleman wouldn¡¯t have pulled the farm-hands from the fields.

    No, it had to be someone even more special¡­

    Perrin¡¯s heart beat faster when he considered that other impossibility; that a band of Foresters, unseen within the land for more than three hundred turns, had ventured from their distant forests to pay them a visit¡­

    When he found his brother, he was standing upon the lip of a stone water trough, craning his neck to peer above the sea of heads. Perrin tapped him on the shoulder and Tarris smiled down at him sheepishly.

    ¡®Didn¡¯t quite make it home, I see,¡¯ Perrin grinned sarcastically. ¡®Come on, get on my back and let¡¯s get us a proper look!¡¯

    Perrin turned around and his brother eagerly jumped onto his back, before clambering up onto his shoulders. Swaying slightly with his enthusiastic weight, Perrin tottered over to the edge of the milling crowd.

    ¡®So who are they gawping at then, Tar?¡¯ Perrin asked, grimacing.

    ¡®They ain¡¯t no Foresters, nor Noblemen for that matter,¡¯ Tarris called down, sounding disappointed. ¡®Just a couple of old men wearing silly clothes, is all.¡¯

    ¡®Old men?¡¯ Perrin groaned, bracing his hands upon his brother¡¯s squirming ankles.

    ¡®They do look funny though,¡¯ Tarris remarked. ¡®They got skin as black as tree bark, and¡­¡¯ Tarris moved suddenly to one side and together they pitched forward, raising disgruntled oaths from two dusty farm-hands. ¡®Their eyes,¡¯ he exclaimed excitedly, ¡®they ain¡¯t got no eyes, Perrin!¡¯

    ¡®What do you mean they don¡¯t have eyes?¡¯ Perrin replied, wincing from the pain now building in his back.

    ¡®Their eyes are all cloudy, like there ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ in ¡®em,¡¯ Tarris shouted above the babbling crowd. ¡®Oh! I can see Jem!¡¯ he called, waving frantically above.

    Suddenly, Perrin felt his brother¡¯s body stiffen upon his shoulders.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡®What¡¯s the matter, Tar?¡¯ Perrin asked, craning his head up between the boy¡¯s unsteady knees.

    ¡®Let¡¯s get out of ¡®ere, Perrin!¡¯ Tarris said, dropping to the cobbles.

    ¡®Leave now?¡¯ Perrin cried. ¡®I didn¡¯t even get to see them!¡¯

    ¡®Something¡¯s wrong, Perrin!¡¯ Tarris said, reaching for his arm.

    ¡®For goodness sake, Tar! Calm down will you?¡¯ Perrin shouted, struggling against his brother¡¯s insistent grip. ¡®Whatever¡¯s got into you?¡¯

    ¡®Perrin, please!¡¯ he begged. ¡®I want to get back to mother! Somethin¡¯ bad¡¯s goin¡¯ to happen!¡¯

    Perrin hesitated, but if he was honest, he felt it too. The silence of the Barrow earlier that afternoon had merely punctuated the growing unease he had been feeling all day. Something was wrong, and for the first time he saw its evidence reflected in his brother¡¯s fear.

    Casting one last curious glance at the gathering crowd, he turned on his heel and ran after his brother.

    ***

    The town sprawled across the slopes of a steep hill, which rose into the sky like a crooked parody of the mountains high above. A tall church spire marked its summit, presiding over the square within which the crowd had gathered. Sprinting down its only paved street, the boys weaved between the thatched houses that littered its way. The cobble gave way to a dirt track and then finally to an overgrown lane which marked the less prosperous part of town.

    As the dust settled behind them, the two brothers slowed to a breathless walk, passing between the ramshackle dwellings cluttered beside the River Pin. Perrin felt unnerved as he watched his brother constantly looking over his shoulder, but soon he too was doing the same. The road behind them was completely deserted, but it didn¡¯t ease the sensation that they were being followed.

    When the tumbled-down cottage that was their home appeared around the corner, Tarris once more broke into a flat out run.

    ¡®I¡¯m sure they were harmless, Tar,¡¯ Perrin said, as he trotted to keep up. ¡®They¡¯re probably just blind vagrants seeking food and shelter, that¡¯s all.¡¯

    But as Perrin approached the weathered front door of the small hovel that was their home, a thought occurred to him which he decided to keep to himself. For, if they were just blind vagrants, why had the whole town turned out to greet them?

    ¡®He weren¡¯t blind, Perrin,¡¯ Tarris replied breathlessly, reaching for the door. ¡®One of ¡®em looked right at me¡­ and then he smiled.¡¯

    ¡®He smiled? What¡¯s wrong with a smile?¡¯ Perrin asked, his heart thudding in his chest.

    ¡®It weren¡¯t a nice smile,¡¯ Tarris whimpered.

    ¡®Hello boys! I wasn¡¯t expecting you back until supper!¡¯ The gentle voice of their mother greeted them from the gloomy interior, where she sat by the light of a cracked window darning a threadbare shirt.

    Tarris ran into her arms and hugged her tightly, sobbing into her lap.

    ¡®Whatever¡¯s the matter, sweet?¡¯ she asked, frowning at Perrin as her needlework dropped to the floor.

    ¡®There was a welcoming at the square,¡¯ Perrin said, looking uncertainly to where his brother sat slumped against their mother. ¡®It was just two blind vagrants from the road. They just spooked Tarris a bit, that¡¯s all.¡¯

    The look on his mother¡¯s face made the forced smile slip from Perrin¡¯s lips. Her arms clutched his brother closer to her, as though afraid he might be torn from her grasp at any moment.

    ¡®Two blind men?¡¯ she asked, her face growing pale in the darkened room.

    ¡®Yes. Why? What¡¯s wrong with that?¡¯ Perrin asked uneasily.

    ¡®What colour did they wear?¡¯

    ¡®I didn¡¯t see them, Tarris wouldn¡¯t let me!¡¯

    Tarris continued to sob into his mother¡¯s lap, but slowly his arm rose from his side pointing to where a tight bunch of flowers hung in the rafters to dry. The bright yellow petals blazed against the darkened timbers as though still thriving upon the meadow.

    ¡®They have come!¡¯ she whispered against her boy¡¯s hair.

    ¡®Mother, what are you talking about?¡¯ Perrin asked, raising his voice in concern. ¡®Who has come?¡¯

    The dark cloud that had settled upon her face after learning the colour of the blind man¡¯s robes seemed to slowly pass, and when she finally looked up a frail smile clung to her pale lips.

    ¡®Fear not, sweet, it is nothing to worry about,¡¯ she soothed, stroking the younger brother¡¯s golden hair. ¡®Tarris dear, why don¡¯t you go and make us all some tea?¡¯ she said, her smile gaining courage from the tear-soaked eyes peering back up at her. ¡®Darning always gives me such a thirst!¡¯

    The boy nodded, and a faint smile returned to his wet face. He promptly scampered into the next room, and soon the sound of the ladle passing between the water barrel and the fire pit could be heard.

    Perrin stood beside his mother and she looked up, a pained expression quickly returning to her freckled face.

    ¡®They are the Kloven,¡¯ she said, her voice lowered to a whisper.

    ¡®The Kloven?¡¯ Perrin repeated apprehensively. ¡®Are they from Spinnet?¡¯

    ¡®They are not of the plain, but of the mountain,¡¯ his mother replied, shaking her head. ¡®They are a brotherhood of monks who live upon a distant peak within a monastery of stone. They worship the god of the sun, and wear its colours as though they were made of the same stuff.¡¯

    The sound of tin cups clattering upon a table drifted in from the next room, quickly followed by a hissing splash and a muffled curse.

    ¡®They are indeed blind,¡¯ she continued, her eyes glazed, ¡®yet they see better than you or I.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ve seen them?¡¯ Perrin asked incredulously.

    ¡®Yes, once,¡¯ his mother replied, distantly. ¡®When I was a little girl, two of the Kloven came to town. They were looking for a child,¡¯ she said, her voice trembling.

    ¡®A child?¡¯ Perrin asked, screwing up his face. ¡®Whatever for?¡¯

    ¡®To become one of them,¡¯ she replied quietly.

    ¡®Who did they pick?¡¯ Perrin asked, suddenly intrigued.

    ¡®They picked no one. But one of the monks spoke to me,¡¯ she paused and looked her son in the eye for a moment, as though checking that he was still in the room, ¡®inside my head. He told me that I would one day carry a child that they would take.¡¯

    ¡®What does that mean?¡¯

    Perrin¡¯s mother was now lost within her own thoughts and seemed not to hear him. A fear that had been buried these past sixteen turns was now displayed openly upon her careworn face.

    Suddenly, she looked up and shouted for Tarris, who came scampering into the room holding a battered tin of loose tea leaves.

    ¡®Sweet, I¡¯ve changed my mind about the tea. Let us all go for a walk along the river instead. Would you like that?¡¯

    Perrin studied his mother¡¯s face.

    Despite the warmth of her words and the familiar smile upon her face, he had never seen her look so scared. Quickly, he grabbed a cloth bag hanging upon the door and hurriedly packed it with a loaf of bread and a handful of wizened apples from the window sill.

    ¡®Come on, Tar!¡¯ Perrin yelled, slinging the bag across his shoulder. ¡®I¡¯m going to take you to see the Willow-Chamber!¡¯

    A loud knock at the door brought them all to silence. The smile that had briefly alighted upon Tarris¡¯ face vanished and he ran back into his mother¡¯s arms. Perrin froze as she put a finger to her lips, and followed her frightened eyes to the door.

    The knock was repeated, more loudly this time, and after a breathless pause, the door slowly opened¡­

    A young girl walked inside, smiling from ear to ear.

    ¡®So you are in!¡¯ she said, twirling a faded pink ribbon woven into her dirty blue dress. ¡®I told them that you would be!¡¯

    ¡®Told who, Jem?¡¯ Perrin asked, his heart lurching inside his chest.

    The doorway darkened as a tall figure dressed in bright yellow robes appeared beside her.

    ¡®Thank you, child. You have been most kind. Now, why don¡¯t you run along and play, and let me have a moment alone with this fine young family?¡¯ the old man said, smiling around the white marbles of his eyes.

    The girl blushed at the compliment and skipped back out of the room, closing the door behind her.

    For a moment, the old man merely stood with the door to his back, his bright yellow robes now muted to tarnished gold. His head was completely devoid of hair, his skin as dark as tanned leather. The opaque globes of his eyes gleamed from the husk of his face like gemstones sitting in black rock.

    ¡®It¡¯s Lynnia, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ The old man finally said, the smile still playing about his dark face as though it were stuck there. ¡®I believe we met once before, many turns ago. Do you remember, child?¡¯

    Perrin looked to his mother doubtfully, but slowly, she nodded her head. He had never heard his mother referred to as ¡°child¡± before, but then he supposed that most adults were children to a man so old.

    The man looked harmless enough, but there was something unsettling about the way he stood silently regarding them, as though a dangerous animal had somehow shuffled inside the house and was considering whether or not to eat them.

    ¡®What is your business here, old man?¡¯ Perrin said, his young voice attempting to imitate the deep growl his father¡¯s had once commanded.

    The old man chuckled to himself and nodded towards a stool beside a cracked window.

    ¡®Would you mind if an old man sat awhile? I have travelled a very long way and wish to speak with you for a moment, if I may?¡¯

    Again, Perrin¡¯s mother slowly nodded her head, as the man shuffled across the room. With difficulty, he lowered himself onto a wooden stool which creaked beneath his weight.

    ¡®That¡¯s much better,¡¯ he said, with a contented sigh.

    ¡®Speak with whom?¡¯ Perrin asked, standing rigidly before his mother and brother, his knuckles white upon the strap of the cloth sack still hanging limply at his shoulder.

    ¡®Why, it is with you that I wish to converse with, young man.¡¯ The old man smiled, his disconcerting white eyes seeming to stare straight through him.

    Perrin hesitated and looked to his mother. But her face was now turned away, buried within his brother¡¯s golden hair.

    ¡®Tell me boy, how many turns are you now?¡¯ The old man asked, his arms folded across his chest.

    ¡®Twelve turns,¡¯ Perrin muttered.

    ¡®Twelve, indeed! The last I was here your mother was of the same age!¡¯ The old man chuckled, clapping his hands in delight. ¡®How time passes below the mountains!¡¯

    His penetrating stare suddenly hardened and he leaned forward in his eagerness like a hungry dog pulling on its leash, his smile dropping from his face as though discarding something already obsolete.

    ¡®Now, tell me boy¡­ do you dream?¡¯

    ¡®Of course I dream, who doesn¡¯t?¡¯ Perrin replied, unnerved at being asked such a strange and pointless question.

    ¡®Indeed, indeed. But, perhaps you have dreams that repeat themselves? Or possibly they contain things you cannot easily explain?¡¯ The old man paused, an eyebrow raised towards the bald dome of his head. ¡®Do you have such dreams I wonder?¡¯

    Perrin glanced at his mother, who continued to stare down into his brother¡¯s hair. Turning back, he nodded once, his lips set firmly together. The old man¡¯s body seemed to tense, and he shuffled forward, like a greedy beggar sighting a plump pouch of gold.

    ¡®Excellent, child, excellent! Now please, if you will, tell me of these dreams.¡¯

    Perrin shifted uneasily upon the stone floor, his fingers restlessly fumbling with the strap of the cloth sack.

    ¡®Sometimes I dream of father,¡¯ Perrin said, glancing uncomfortably back at his mother. ¡®I see him as he was in the past, when he lived here with mother, before me and Tarris were born.¡¯

    The monk nodded his head and smiled.

    ¡®These are dreams of past-seeing,¡¯ he said, his head tilting to one side, ¡®glimpses of time that was, visions of things that were.¡¯

    Perrin was about to ask the old man what he meant by these strange words when he was quickly interrupted.

    ¡®What other dreams?¡¯ the monk asked, the faintest note of impatience colouring his words.

    Perrin frowned. He didn¡¯t like the way the old man had dismissed the dreams of his father so quickly, but he knew instinctively what the old man wanted to hear.

    ¡®I dream of a man I¡¯ve never seen before,¡¯ Perrin said, staring uncertainly into the white orbs of the old man¡¯s face.

    ¡®Why is he strange, child?¡¯ A flicker of a smile passed across the man¡¯s lips, like a butterfly briefly alighting upon an old gnarled tree.

    ¡®He isn¡¯t of our world.¡¯

    The old man brought a hand to his face, cradling his chin as though it suddenly needed support.

    ¡®And what, pray, does this strange man do in your dream?¡¯ he asked quietly.

    The boy¡¯s reluctance evaporated as his mind poured over the details of a dream he knew as well as the freckles on his mother¡¯s face.

    ¡®Sometimes I see him flying through the sky like a bird. He likes to laugh, and sometimes I hear him singing a song with strange words. But most times, I see him in the midst of a great army of dark men. He makes war with them alone, his body burning in blue fire, a sword in his hand as red as a blacksmith¡¯s forge.¡¯

    The old man¡¯s smile was now in pieces upon his darkened face, and he stared back at the boy as though in dismay.

    ¡®Do you have the dream often?¡¯ he asked.

    ¡®I always have the dream,¡¯ Perrin replied simply.

    Closing his eyes, Perrin took a deep, shuddering breath.

    ¡®The man, the one in my dream¡­ he has a name¡­ he calls himself James.¡¯

    Upon hearing the curious name, the old man appeared to wilt slightly in his chair; although whether it was from surprise or fear, Perrin could not tell. For the first time since entering the small room, the man reluctantly pulled his attention from the boy and addressed his mother.

    ¡®You know what I must ask of you now, Lynnia. The boy has a rare talent, a gift that has blossomed out here in the meadows beyond the Kloven.

    ¡®Tiny fragments of this same vision have been glimpsed by myself and only one other of my order. Yet neither of us has witnessed details of any such depth. With my guidance, and the training of the brotherhood, this gift of your son¡¯s will be fully awakened. I have no doubt in my mind that he has the potential to become the greatest seer in the history of the Kloven.¡¯

    The man¡¯s words were kindly spoken, but an impatience punctuated each word, tainting its delivery like milk soured by vinegar.

    ¡®Sir, I am greatly honoured that you wish to take my son, but we cannot afford to have him sent away. The boy¡¯s father was killed upon the mountain last summer so we barely make ends meet as it is. I fear what would happen to us if Perrin were taken also,¡¯ she said, her eyes brimming with unbroken tears.

    As though the old man had already known what she would say, he produced a leather pouch from the folds of his robes and hefted it in his blackened hand.

    ¡®There is gold enough here to allow you and your remaining son to live in comfort for the rest of your days. Please take it as compensation for the boy.¡¯

    Perrin¡¯s mother looked disdainfully down at the pouch, as though it were a pile of dung clasped in his hand.

    ¡®Again sir, you do us a great honour. But I would not take any amount of gold for my son.¡¯

    Reaching out her hand, she drew Perrin to her, cradling the two boys between her arms.

    ¡®I know something of your order,¡¯ she said, her voice strong despite the tears now dropping to her lap, ¡®the children that are taken into the mountains and never seen of again!¡¯

    ¡®That, unfortunately, is so,¡¯ he conceded, gazing down at the pouch held between his long fingers.

    ¡®Were the boy to leave with me this day, it is unlikely that you would ever see him again. Those who join the brotherhood dedicate their very lives in service to Yophine, and all her many creations. The lives of mortal men and women are of little consequence to us.¡¯

    Again, he hefted the pouch within his hand and looked directly at the frightened woman.

    ¡®But the Almighty Yophine repays our service in kind, granting us extraordinarily long lives, amongst many other¡­ benefits. Your son will not grow old and frail as other men would. He will still be drawing breath hundreds, perhaps thousands of turns from now.

    ¡®Is that not a gift you would bestow upon your eldest son?¡¯

    ¡®I love Perrin dearly and would not wish him to live through such a curse!¡¯ Lynnia said, her jaw hardened despite the tears that now fell freely from her face.

    Perrin¡¯s eyes had not left the swollen money pouch sitting in the old man¡¯s hand, and in the pause that followed, he spoke tenderly to his mother as the old man looked on.

    ¡®Mother, with this money we are saved! We cannot survive for another moon as we are!¡¯

    ¡®We will find a way!¡¯ Lynnia cried hysterically.

    When the old man suddenly stood, his supple movement made a sham of his earlier display of frailty. Placing the heavy pouch upon the table, he strode to the door like a man half his age. Pausing on the threshold, he turned his burning white eyes upon the cowering woman for the last time.

    ¡®Thank you Lynnia, I will take good care of the boy. You have my word as Mendra-Kloven, he will not be harmed.¡¯

    And with those final words, he stepped out of the house, closing the door quietly behind him.

    Perrin turned and hugged his mother tightly.

    ¡®It is as you said, mother. He speaks to me inside my head. He knows that I will shortly join him outside, but wishes us to have privacy for our goodbyes.¡¯

    ¡®Perrin no! You cannot do this!¡¯ Lynnia cried, holding him tighter still. ¡®We would never see you again!¡¯

    ¡®Mother, I will go with this man, but I will return, despite what he thinks.¡¯

    Lynnia shook her head silently, her grip loosening as though suddenly weak. Her tears fell from her eyes onto Tarris¡¯ head, who sobbed quietly into her lap.

    With more confidence than he really felt, Perrin kissed his mother, and then for the first time in his life knelt to kiss the top of his brother¡¯s head.

    ¡®Look after mother, Tar. I will not be gone long. I promise.¡¯

    Without waiting to reconsider his actions, Perrin turned and walked from the dark room that had been his home for all his short life.

    A loud and joyous cheer erupted into the air as Perrin stumbled out into the overgrown garden. The crowd of town¡¯s folk that had been gathered beneath the bell tower earlier that day now filled the narrow lane beside the house. He saw the beaming faces of his friends, Jem, Willis and Patrick. He saw the blacksmith, the mill owner Mr Parson, even the ruddy-faced mayor who now ambled out to greet him, his heavy chain of office clanking noisily as he thrust his podgy hand into his.

    ¡®My boy, you do our town the greatest honour in four generations. Do not let us down!¡¯

    Perrin walked in a daze through the press of people, receiving pats on the back and hurried handshakes, until at last he finally came to rest between the two blind men. The monks stood tall and erect, their fluttering yellow robes reflecting the last of the setting sun like flaming torches. Whatever traces of infirmity they had displayed in their arrival had vanished as they prepared to take their leaving. The men who now stood either side of him were like marble statues, radiating a power that made Perrin¡¯s stomach squirm.

    The monk¡¯s companion pressed a bony, blackened hand to his shoulder and smiled down at him, his teeth like crooked tombstones in his mouth. Perrin remembered the last words his brother had spoken, and he nodded in silent agreement; the man¡¯s smile wasn¡¯t nice¡­ it wasn¡¯t nice at all.

    As they walked together out across the fields to the mountain pass beyond, amidst the cheers and the peal of bells from high above the town, he heard the muffled scream of his mother calling out his name¡­

 1 - Consultation

    James awoke with a start. His foot jerked out, squeaking against linoleum. As he straightened himself in his seat, he noticed a large woman eyeing him suspiciously from the top of a magazine. Smiling uncertainly at her scrutiny, the frowning woman shook her head in bemusement. It was only after she had returned to her reading that he realised he had no idea where he was.

    The room was small and lit by artificial light. Two other people sat beside the large woman, glumly perusing a collection of dog-eared magazines heaped on a coffee table. It appeared that they were all waiting for something, but what?

    Closing his eyes, he drew his hands across his face, raising a sound like raked gravel from the stubble covering his jaw. Another memory returned to his mind that seemed far more vivid than the recollection of where he was now sitting. He saw again the young boy walking beside the two old men into the mountains. Their bright yellow robes flashed across his mind like blinding flares, accompanied by a single word which repeated itself again and again like a mantra. It was a curious word that didn¡¯t make any sense, yet there it was, rolling around inside his head like a restless marble.

    ¡®Perrin, Perrin, Perrin¡­¡¯

    His lips moved silently around the word, until his voice finally made it whole.

    ¡®Perrin!¡¯

    It was barely a whisper in his throat, but he realised with mounting horror that he was prepared to scream it from the top of his lungs. Gripped by a sudden and overwhelming sense of loss, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth wide¡­

    ¡®Mr Gelding? Mr James Gelding?¡¯

    James jumped as a hand alighted upon his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw a middle-aged nurse smiling down from above, her face like the wide, dazed mask of a Buddha statue. Of course! This was the hospital! How could he have forgotten?

    ¡®Having a little shut-eye were we Mr Gelding?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I suppose I must have been,¡¯ he replied, getting unsteadily to his feet. ¡®I¡¯m sorry about that.¡¯

    As the nurse led him out of the waiting room and down a short corridor, James frowned. Already the strange dream was beginning to fade from his memory, but it was unnerving that it had affected him so deeply. If the nurse hadn¡¯t come at that very moment, would he have really screamed that odd word out aloud?

    Now that he thought about it, he realised he had already forgotten what the word had been. It had sounded like peanut or parrot¡­ or had it been perret?

    Shaking his head with bemusement, he followed the nurse onto a small ward where two comatose patients occupied a row of otherwise empty beds. The nurse gestured to a seat and James sat whilst she drew a small machine on caster wheels towards her.

    ¡®I¡¯m just going to take your blood pressure,¡¯ the nurse said, taking a flesh-coloured armband and sliding it dutifully up his arm.

    She flicked a switch and the machine buzzed and clicked into life, causing the armband to slowly inflate around his arm. Soon, he could feel his heartbeat tapping out a steady rhythm against his bicep. It was unnerving to feel its beat so steady and sure, when the rest of his body felt as though it were about to unravel.

    ¡®That was a big sigh,¡¯ the nurse said, deflating the band before removing it like the shed skin of some recently deceased animal.

    ¡®My mother used to always say that,¡¯ James heard himself reply.

    ¡®Bless,¡¯ the nurse said, smiling mechanically. ¡®Well, Doctor Smithson will call you into the consultation room when he is ready, so just sit tight until then.¡¯

    And then she was gone, leaving him sitting alone on the empty ward.

    He slumped back against the chair and gazed up at the sign hanging from the ceiling, ¡°Neurophysiology¡±. Before today he hadn¡¯t known the word existed, let alone what it meant. But now, that one word hovering above his head meant a great deal. It lay like a leaden weight upon the gnawing pain inside his head, the numbness prickling through the left side of his body; the arm, the leg, the half of his face that no longer felt his own. The impending consultation seemed not only to be unnecessary, but ultimately futile. He didn¡¯t need the professional opinion of a doctor to tell him what he already knew¡­

    He was dying.

    A door opened and a tall, thin man in a white coat poked his head out like a shy cuckoo emerging from its clock.

    ¡®Mr Gelding?¡¯ he said, his eyes reluctantly alighting upon the ward¡¯s sole occupant. ¡®Would you like to come inside?¡¯

    Without waiting for a reply, the man¡¯s head disappeared back out of sight.

    ¡®Would I like to come inside?¡¯ James mumbled as he got unsteadily to his feet. ¡®No, not especially.¡¯

    Smiling mirthlessly, he made his way towards the pool of sterile light filtering onto the gloomy ward. As usual, the numbness in his left side made him walk strangely, as though unseen hands were trying to pull him off course, and when he reached the door he had to pause to steady himself. Wringing his sweaty hands, he held his numb tongue against the roof of his mouth and with another deep sigh entered the room.

    The office was small and sparsely furnished. A row of metal filing cabinets lined one wall and a huge wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, blocking the way forward like a crude barricade against intruders. A potted plant that had seen better days sat forlornly in one corner, its waxy leaves coated in a thick layer of dust. The doctor had already taken his seat on the other side of the desk and was busily thumbing through a collection of papers when the sound of the closing door made him glance up.

    ¡®Please, take a seat Mr Gelding,¡¯ the doctor said, gesturing to an empty chair safely separated from him by the wide expanse of mahogany.

    For a few moments, the doctor returned his attention to his papers, his eyes anchored to the pages as though determined not to stray beyond them.

    ¡®Now,¡¯ he said, at last bringing his eyes to meet his patient¡¯s. ¡®Last week, as you know, a number of scans were performed upon your brain and the cervical portion of your spinal cord.¡¯

    James nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable that he had yet to speak a single word to the other man.

    The doctor stood, and drawing a number of transparent sheets from a brown envelope walked over to a light box attached to the wall. Flicking a switch, he promptly tucked the sheets inside its top edge where they hung like a series of macabre prints in a photographer¡¯s studio.

    ¡®As we previously discussed, our concern was that you might be experiencing the early signifiers of Multiple Sclerosis,¡¯ the doctor continued, looking hesitantly between the illuminated images of his brain and the head that contained it. ¡®I am terribly sorry Mr Gelding, but I have some bad news for you.¡¯

    James had been prepared for these very words ever since the doctor had first suggested the MRI scans two weeks before. Hearing them now was like watching a long awaited train finally pull into its station. The scans would reveal the blight of lesions spread across his brain and spinal cord, signifying the indiscriminate death of nerve cells due to the autoimmune disease he had read so much about. He knew the salient points of the diagnosis by heart; he knew that it was a disease for which there was no cure, a death that would be slow and degrading as his nervous system slowly crumbled around him.

    James took a deep breath and tried to meet the doctor¡¯s eyes with what little bravery he could muster.

    ¡®Mr Gelding, I¡¯m afraid you have cancer.¡¯

    Something inside James¡¯ stomach flipped, sending waves of cold to every inch of his body. He looked back up at the glowing transparencies and watched in mute horror as the doctor¡¯s finger traced the outline of a dark smudge buried within the cauliflower swirls of his brain.

    ¡®It is difficult to see on this image,¡¯ the doctor continued, ¡®but you actually have two separate tumours.

    ¡®The primary tumour is situated within the Frontal Lobe, the portion of your brain that is located beneath here,¡¯ the doctor said, placing a slender finger above his own forehead. ¡®And the secondary tumour is situated within the Parietal Lobe,¡¯ his finger traced a path backwards until it hovered over the North Pole of his balding head.

    ¡®It is likely that this is the tumour responsible for the weakness you have been experiencing on the left side of your body,¡¯ the doctor said, finally removing the finger from his head, ¡®and, of course, the migraines,¡¯ he added, sitting back behind his desk.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡®I¡¯m afraid, Mr Gelding, that there is only one option available, and that is surgery to remove both tumours. However, I have to warn you now that the larger of the two tumours will be extremely dangerous to extract, and I cannot rule out the possibility of some damage to the surrounding tissue¡­ even if the operation is a success.¡¯ The doctor shifted in his chair, his eyes slightly glazed as though defensive shutters had been drawn up inside them.

    ¡®However, the prognosis, should you choose not to proceed with the operation, would be a remaining lifespan measured in months.¡¯

    The doctor laced his fingers together above the shiny surface of the desk and took a deep breath.

    ¡®Mr Gelding, I feel that I should be perfectly candid with you at this stage. There is no way of knowing for certain until a biopsy is completed upon the extracted material, but judging from the positions of the two tumours, I am reasonably confident that the two are linked. Therefore, we have to consider the possibility that we are dealing with a particularly aggressive form of cancer. Even if the tumours are successfully removed, there is no guarantee that new cancers will not have already been seeded elsewhere in the brain.¡¯

    The doctor paused, as though suddenly floundering with the lack of medical terms he might use to fill the silence. After a short while, he resorted to the emotionless platitudes of which he was so well versed, ¡®I¡¯m so terribly sorry, Mr Gelding.¡¯

    ***

    Minutes later, James was back on the other side of the door. He couldn¡¯t remember what the doctor had said following the bad news, only dwelling upon the two words he had offered by way of reply: ¡®That¡¯s ok.¡¯ It was strange how these two words now sounded so much like an apology, as though he had felt responsible for the obvious discomfort Doctor Smithson had just waded through.

    The nurse with the benevolent smile suddenly appeared at his side and promptly led him back through the labyrinth of hospital corridors, her hand resting upon his arm as though he were a lost child.

    ¡®Your appointment for the operation will be posted out to you in the next few days,¡¯ she said, eventually depositing him inside the busy hospital foyer.

    For the first time, the woman¡¯s smile vanished and was immediately replaced by a disconcerting parody of sympathy.

    ¡®If you should need to talk to anyone about what is happening, please do not hesitate to call this number.¡¯

    She handed him a small pamphlet with a number printed along the bottom. ¡®You are not alone in this,¡¯ she added, gently patting his arm.

    And then he was alone once more, standing outside the hospital, the paper pamphlet clenched in a tight white fist. The sun slipped out from behind the clouds and for a moment he stood blinking against its sudden brightness. A warm breeze carried the beginnings of summer, the smell of cut grass, the faint perfume of flowers bordering the nearby car park.

    Before he knew what he was doing, he was already walking; his unthinking legs carrying the burden of his body like a dead weight. As he blundered across the car park and onto the pavement beyond, Doctor Smithson¡¯s words returned to him from the sterile interior of the consultation room. The doctor had concluded their one-sided conversation by telling him that the egg-sized tumour had very likely been sitting there inside his head for the past twelve months.

    Twelve months!

    With the unmistakable tone of accusation in his voice, the doctor had asked why he had waited so long before seeking help. But James had only shaken his head, unable to tell the pitiful truth that he had been too scared to know what was wrong.

    James sighed, but it didn¡¯t make him feel any better. A scream would have been more appropriate but as he walked out of the hospital grounds, he realised he lacked the courage for such an outburst. Instead, his thoughts drifted back through the months he had unknowingly shared with the tumour; the months leading up to this dreadful discovery.

    He saw again her face, smiling at him within a warm embrace; her dancing green eyes, the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. Her soft words of assurance had always been enough to quieten his endless worry¡­ but never for long.

    The bittersweet memory of his ex-girlfriend vanished, and was immediately replaced by a more recent recollection. She held him once more, but this time her radiant smile was gone. With her anguished eyes seeking his, she had told him that she had had enough. That it was over between them.

    That had been two months ago.

    Obviously, she had grown tired of his endless worrying, his depression, his apathy¡­

    Who wouldn¡¯t?

    The love they had once shared hadn¡¯t ended. Rather, it had been slowly bled dry for all it was worth. Without knowing it, he had personally strangled that love, throttling it, stifling it, until its weak arms could no longer surround them both.

    These involuntary recollections dredged another painful memory to the surface of his mind, where it flooded him again with self-pity and despair.

    It had been a dull, overcast morning when he had said goodbye to her for the last time. Her tears had returned as they stood together on her doorstep, but this time they were fewer, as though the pain of parting was already being tempered by the relief of never having to see him again. He had walked through the streets in a daze until he had reached the old wooden bus shelter on the edge of town. It had been a lonely wait for the last bus he would ever catch from it, and as he had watched the steady stream of traffic pass along the grey street, it had given him ample time to consider what he had lost, what he would never have again. In those moments, the numbness in the left side of his body had seemed to swell until he had wondered if he might not be fading from existence altogether.

    James frowned as the hospital receded into the distance behind him like a grey ship on the horizon. The runaway train of his thoughts had dislodged another fragment of memory from that painful parting in early spring. It was strange that he hadn¡¯t thought about him until now, but somehow in the fog of his all-consuming depression he had forgotten all about the man who had smiled¡­

    That morning, it had seemed strange to see another person out walking when everyone else preferred to hide within the cloistered privacy of their cars. So when he had first seen the man striding down the hill towards him, he had assumed he was homeless; his beard was long and unkempt and he wore a large canvas rucksack with a bedroll tied to its top. But it hadn¡¯t been until the man had drawn nearer that he had realised his mistake. For despite the dirty clothes and unkempt appearance, the man¡¯s stride had been confident and purposeful, his bearing proud and noble like a prince masquerading in rags.

    In that moment, as though reflected in the mirror of the man¡¯s nobility, James had truly seen himself for the first time. And what he saw had made him turn his eyes to the ground in shame. With blinding clarity, he had seen the taint of his life receding into the past like a baleful ribbon. The man he had become was the sum of countless denials and lost opportunities; a hopeless wretch now left alone and bereaved at the side of the road. The tears he had been unable to shed in the presence of his girlfriend had then fallen freely, until his entire body had been wracked with sobs of despair.

    It had been some time before James had been able to look up, his chest still hitching and shuddering like a child recovering from a hysterical fit. He had expected to find the strange man dwindling into the distance behind him, but with a jolt, he had found him on the opposite side of the road, watching him intently; the endless traffic ruffling his long, greying hair like the brambles in the hedge behind him. James had been about to turn away in embarrassment, when something miraculous had happened.

    The man had smiled.

    The man¡¯s smile had moved him deeply at the time, cast out amongst the flicker of racing traffic like sunlight breaking between dark clouds. It was a knowing smile, a kind smile, and within its radiant benevolence, James¡¯ misery and loss had evaporated like rainwater baked off a pavement.

    But it hadn¡¯t lasted for long.

    With the sudden hiss of airbrakes, the wide expanse of gleaming metal belonging to the country bus had interceded, severing the connection as abruptly as scissors through a phone line.

    Caught in a moment of indecision, James had clambered aboard just as the doors were closing. But as the bus had jerked back into traffic, he had stumbled up the staircase to peer out of its top windows. There, he had got his last glimpse of the smiling man as he climbed a wooden stile and set off across the open fields beyond¡­

    James stopped walking.

    Turning, he gazed at the hospital now all but lost on the horizon. The main building was hidden behind a line of trees, but the tall chimney of its incinerator rose into the sky like a taunting finger.

    It wasn¡¯t until this very moment, faced with the news of his illness and reminded of the crushing loss of his girlfriend that he finally understood what the man had been doing that day. The modern world, with its endless cars and concrete, its innumerable disappointments and rejections, its absolute certainties and irrefutable diagnosis¡¯; that man, who had given him the simple gift of his smile, had been leaving it all behind¡­

    Looking now across the road, James noticed an old stone wall and without hesitation ambled towards it, thrusting out a trembling hand to slow an approaching car. The car¡¯s horn blared into the air like an angry scream, but James kept his eyes locked upon the far side of the road like a floundering swimmer desperately making for shore. Reaching the wall, he awkwardly hoisted himself over it, landing in a tangle of brambles which tugged painfully through his clothes. Unmindful of their tiny knives, he drew a deep breath, and pushed through.

    Hampered by his numb leg, he blundered out onto an abandoned car park, hemmed in by weeds and nettles. Oily stains still marked the cracked concrete where cars once held sway, but otherwise it was deserted. It gave him a grim satisfaction to see this slice of modernity in the process of reclamation, but still it wasn¡¯t enough. Undaunted, he pushed on through a stand of blackberry bushes, their thorns adding to the scrapes already traced in crimson across his bare arms.

    A shimmering sea of green filled his vision as thorns tugged and plucked at his clothes. The air was pungent with the fragrance of sap and ripening fruit, the insistent hum of insects thriving in the undergrowth. The melodic song of a blackbird was like a call of welcome; a joyous congratulation for his imminent escape.

    A tentative smile was creeping onto his lips when his foot suddenly caught in the undergrowth. His hands acted before he could stop them and grasped the leaves around him, the hidden thorns readily biting into his flesh. With a cry, he released his hold and tumbled down through the green. A sea of discarded beer cans broke his fall, the sound jarring against the buzzing and chirping fecundity that surrounded him. It pained him to have the real world so violently mashed back into his senses, but he struggled on, crawling along a gully similarly choked with the off-casts of the modern world.

    When at last he crested the muddy bank of the ditch, the gutted remains of a small building barred his way. The crumbling redbrick walls were covered with ancient graffiti, like hieroglyphic warnings from another time. But still he lumbered on, scrambling up a heap of rubble that lay across his path.

    Cresting its tottering summit, he slid down the other side, his shaking legs finally bringing him to a halt as stones rattled around him. A tall chain-link fence loomed across the abandoned lot like a dark net thrown across the sky. Its top was crested by a rusted tangle of barbed wire, where fragments of decaying plastic bags fluttered forlornly in the breeze.

    As insubstantial as this barrier appeared, it was a wall to him all the same. His legs carried him forward until his body leaned into its creaking embrace. With a shuddering gasp, he lowered his head into his hands and quietly wept.

 2 - Waiting

    A week later, James found himself sitting in another waiting room buried somewhere within the indiscriminate grey walls of the hospital. The windowless room, with its photographs of rolling fields and pine forests, did little to alleviate the crushing claustrophobia permeating the small space; it might as well have been a room buried beneath the ground than one perched upon the seventh floor.

    A heady hospital aroma circulated on a warm current of air, filling the waiting room with its overpowering fragrance; the bittersweet smell of overcooked food mingled with the sour aroma of defecation.

    Grimacing, James read the sign dangling above his head like the next cruel chapter in the autobiography of his miserable life¡­

    ¡°Neurosurgery¡±

    Moments before, he had been ushered inside a small cubicle where he had dressed in the light navy blue of a hospital gown; a garment more akin to a dress than its namesake. For a long time, he had stood before a narrow mirror, silently regarding the man staring back at him. It had been frightening to see what he had become. His curly chestnut hair had been shaved away, exposing the outline of his skull pressed so tightly to his skin. His head had looked far too small, his once gleaming blue eyes reduced to dull pebbles sitting in sunken pits. That other person staring back at him had been a stranger; a gaunt, miserable fellow without a shred of hope left inside him.

    With difficulty, James drew his gaze from the sign and back into the room. Two other patients sat forlornly nearby, their blue gowns drawn self-consciously about them. One was a man in his late sixties. His face was sallow and lined, with a dusty moustache perched precariously beneath his nose. His feet, encased in a pair of tartan slippers, tapped out a beat to music that wasn¡¯t there. The other patient was an attractive young woman. Her long, dark hair had been brutally shaved across one side of her head, the rest tied into a careless ponytail which draped across her shoulder like a discarded rag. Her dark eyes stared bleakly across the room as she clenched and unclenched her jaw.

    A small television set hung in a corner of the room, and the three of them silently consumed its images, lacking the energy or enthusiasm to touch the scattering of magazines sitting on a nearby table. The BBC News at One was rattling through a series of unpleasant stories as a stream of misspelt subtitles tried valiantly to keep up with the spoken word. The last item of news was one of the more pleasant stories reserved as a tonic for all the misery that had preceded it. A metal detectorist at an undisclosed location in Staffordshire had unearthed what was thought to be the largest hoard of Saxon gold and silver ever discovered in England. The fragmented subtitles rattled across the bottom of the screen as a man in his late fifties smiled into the camera. There was a close-up shot of his dirty hand, and there, sitting snugly in his palm, was a delicate silver brooch.

    Something stirred inside James at the sight of the tiny object glinting in the soft morning light. The delicate scrollwork, wrought by hands that had turned to dust a thousand years before, was bathed once more beneath the ageless sun that had presided over its making. Its fragile shape seemed to jar within the rectangular prison of the television screen, like a beautiful silver butterfly impaled on a lepidopterists tray.

    A sudden and inexplicable sense of loss washed over him as he stared at the lingering image. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, and looked down to find dark blotches forming upon his gown. He caught sight of the young woman and saw that she too was quietly weeping.

    Were they crying for the same reason? He thought to himself in bewilderment.

    A voice intruded upon the quiet and he quickly dragged his trembling fist across his wet eyes.

    ¡®Mr Gelding, the theatre is ready for you now.¡¯

    A nurse appeared at his side, and taking his elbow, helped him get unsteadily to his feet. The old man and the young woman turned to watch him, their faces wearing expressions caught halfway between jealousy and relief that their time had yet to come.

    ¡®Good luck,¡¯ the old man said, his voice bubbling unpleasantly in his throat.

    The young woman remained silent, but she offered him a tentative smile, her face momentarily illuminated by the shadow of the radiance it must once have carried.

    ¡®You too,¡¯ James replied.

    ***

    As though stepping onto a stage set, they passed from the corridor and into the operating theatre. A huge chrome assemblage of lights hung from the ceiling and beneath its blinding glare, men and women wearing turquoise scrubs quietly busied themselves on either side of the operating table.

    ¡®Hello, Mr Gelding. I will be your anaesthetist this afternoon,¡¯ a young Asian man said, greeting him with a handshake. ¡®I¡¯m Doctor Hamada, but please just call me Sam.¡¯Stolen novel; please report.

    The smiling doctor led James to the table as the other surgeons and nurses ignored him completely.

    ¡®Now, if you could just hop up here and lie down¡­ that¡¯s the ticket!¡¯

    The nurse who had accompanied James to the theatre took his slippers as he swung himself clumsily onto the table.

    ¡®Please uncross your ankles for me, James. That¡¯s it, thank you,¡¯ Dr Hamada said, slipping a pulse monitor onto his finger, before taping two electrodes to the top of his chest.

    James¡¯ eyes moved involuntarily to a stainless steel table, laden with a frightening array of implements. His heart was pounding in his ears, his hands restlessly twitching at his sides.

    ¡®Please try to relax, James,¡¯ the Doctor said, as he pulled a plastic covering off something just out of sight.

    ¡®I¡¯m very nervous,¡¯ James said, inwardly wincing at the pathetic sound of his own voice.

    ¡®Don¡¯t worry, James,¡¯ Dr Hamada¡¯s voice soothed. ¡®I¡¯m just going to fit your cannula and then we¡¯ll give you something to make you feel more relaxed.¡¯

    The doctor smiled and bent to his side.

    ¡®Could you flex your hand for me? I need you to raise a vein¡­ that¡¯s it.¡¯

    There was a sharp sting, and then the feeling of something being pushed inside the top of his hand. The nurse placed an oxygen mask over his face and James anxiously pressed it to his face.

    ¡®Breathe deeply for me, James,¡¯ the doctor said, his head now bending over from behind.

    The man¡¯s upside-down smile resembled a sneering scowl, and James quickly closed his eyes, taking a hurried breath from the mask.

    ¡®Imagine you¡¯re breathing the air on a nice tropical island,¡¯ the Doctor¡¯s voice soothed.

    James muttered something into the mask and took another deep breath.

    ¡®What was that?¡¯ the doctor asked distractedly, attaching something to the needle now taped to his hand.

    ¡®I would like to breathe the air in Japan,¡¯ James muttered. ¡®I always wanted to go there.¡¯

    The doctor paused for a moment and chuckled.

    ¡®I¡¯m honoured that you would choose such a place!¡¯ he said, winking at the nurse beside him. ¡®But, I¡¯ll let you into a little secret,¡¯ the doctor said, bending over him. ¡®I¡¯ve never been there either!¡¯

    James managed a lopsided grin but the upside-down smile of the doctor made him take another hurried breath from the mask.

    ¡®Now, I¡¯m going to add something to your bloodstream,¡¯ the doctor said, compressing a syringe attached to the cannula. ¡®There may be a cold sensation in your arm but there is absolutely nothing to worry about.¡¯

    A tight pain crept down his arm, like cold hands squeezing his flesh.

    ¡®It¡¯s a bit painful,¡¯ James said, his speech beginning to slur. ¡®Is that normal?¡¯

    ¡®That can happen,¡¯ the doctor replied from somewhere behind him, ¡®but it¡¯s nothing to worry about. Now, please count down from ten for me and let¡¯s see how far you can get.¡¯

    James got to seven before the lights suddenly brightened, filling the room with blinding light. Still, he continued to count, working his way down to one.

    ¡®I don¡¯t think it¡¯s working¡­¡¯ he mumbled.

    When there was no reply, he glanced to the side and found that the operating theatre had vanished. In its place, a formless white void filled his vision.

    The surface against his back seemed to vibrate, and then tilt, sending him rolling to one side. He braced himself for a fall, but instead something cold and hard pressed painfully against his ribs. Panicking, James scrambled in the cramped space until his hands found what felt like two soft shelves on either side of him. With difficulty, he pulled himself upright and peered uncomprehendingly into the whiteness that surrounded him.

    ¡®Doctor Hamada!¡¯ he shouted. ¡®What the hell¡¯s going on?¡¯

    His voice sounded strange to his own ears, disappearing as soon as it left his mouth. There was no reply to his question, but as though his shouts were a signal, the veil of white slowly began to recede from his vision.

    The room was narrow and filled with two rows of red leather seats separated by a narrow aisle. Windows filled the four walls, but their misted surfaces obscured the view beyond. For one fleeting moment, he thought he was still in the hospital, but whilst his blue hospital gown was still wrapped securely around him, he realised with dismay that this was somewhere altogether different. A wave of dizziness swept over him as realisation dawned. As impossible as it seemed, he was standing on the top floor of a double-decker bus!

    The bus¡¯ engine cut out. In the silence that remained, the familiar ringing of church bells issued from behind the closed windows. Lurching to the side, James swept his hand across the misted glass and peered down through the streamers of fog rolling past the stationary bus. There, submerged in the white, was the familiar outline of an old wooden bus shelter.

    ¡®Impossible!¡¯ James cried, cupping his face in his hands.

    His body swayed beneath him. He felt as though he was standing on the edge of a chasm, and if he took one more step, he would fall and never stop falling¡­

    An idea blazed through the confusion of his mind and he blundered over to the other side of the bus, sweeping his arm across the misty panes of glass. Peering down, he saw the man he knew would be there waiting for him; the man with the unkempt beard and the bearing of a prince. He was sitting on a wooden stile, his lean frame folded into a lotus position despite his precarious perch. His eyes were closed, but his smile blazed across the space between them like white fire.

    Wisps of fog threatened to erase the man from view, but James could see his lips moving, whispering words that could not be heard through the thick pane of glass.

    ¡®Hey wait!¡¯ James yelled, hammering on the window with his fists. ¡®I can¡¯t hear what you¡¯re saying!¡¯

    Rising to his feet like a fall in reverse, the man suddenly turned and pointed. Miraculously, the simple gesture parted the fog before him like two great curtains, revealing a vast corridor of rolling fields receding into the distance. The invitation to follow him was clear, but no sooner had the fog parted, did it sweep back in, erasing him from existence.

    ¡®Wait!¡¯ James screamed.

    The bus¡¯ engine spluttered back into life, sending a violent jolt through the ungainly structure of the vehicle. Bolting from his seat, James lumbered over to the precarious stairwell. His unsteady feet reached for the first stair as the labouring engine roared back into life. The bus lurched forward and with the deafening sound of ringing bells, he was thrown down the stairs and into white oblivion.

 3 - Dreaming

    ¡®Yes, yes I will! But I can¡¯t stay now! I have to leave!¡¯ James shouted, anxiously looking up at the tiny circle of moonlight high above.

    The room was small and circular, with walls so high it might have been sat at the bottom of a deep well. There were no windows and no doors. Instead, books of every colour and shape filled a crazy network of bookshelves spiralling up into the darkness. A small pool of flickering light was provided by a large candle sitting on the edge of a scarred, wooden workbench. Its surface was filled with yellowed sheets of paper and strange metal objects which seemed to rotate and hover of their own accord.

    James¡¯ eyes climbed back to the tunnel of bookshelves, seeking the silver, coin-sized point of moonlight high above. His body ached to be up there beyond these stifling old walls. He knew that if he really wanted to he could leave this place in a single bound¡­ and yet, the voice in the darkness was begging him to stay¡­

    It was a kind old voice, but frail, like old paper stretched too thinly across a broken window. And as James restlessly stared above, the wizened voice patiently listed reasons for him to stay¡­

    But James wasn¡¯t really listening.

    Much of what the old man said made sense, but nothing could make him stay down here when he had the freedom of the entire sky waiting for him above.

    ¡®The last¡­ yes, the last!¡¯ James parroted in frustration, all the while gazing up at the distant exit high above. ¡®I¡¯ll remember, I¡¯ll remember! Don¡¯t worry!¡¯

    ¡®Oh, very well,¡¯ the voice finally said with a resigned sigh. ¡®A bird that has never felt the wind beneath its wings cannot be kept from the sky¡­¡¯

    No sooner had these words been uttered, did something within the room shift. It was as though a terrible, invisible weight had been lifted from James¡¯ shoulders, and he smiled in recognition.

    ¡®Thank you!¡¯ he laughed, gazing distractedly over his shoulder to a dark corner of the circular room. ¡®I won¡¯t forget!¡¯ he shouted, before turning back to focus his mind on the change.

    But making the change wasn¡¯t going to be easy. It was like attempting to balance twenty coins end to end on the tip of a finger, or trying to inhale and exhale at the same time. It should have been impossible, and yet, he knew that he could make it happen.

    In his mind¡¯s eye a familiar shape grew impossibly big, whilst simultaneously shrinking down to a size beyond imagining. For a moment, he knew genuine fear at the power contained within this simple gesture, but he could not turn back now. He had dreamed of this same frightening shape many times as a child and each time he had awoken half mad with fear¡­

    But this time it was different.

    Somehow, the dull ache inside his head seemed to contain the madness of the shape, and gradually he was able to take control of the seething energies that had always before woken him from the dream.

    His eyes opened and a knowing smile flickered onto his lips.

    The tails of his hospital gown began to curl in the still air, a light breeze ruffling the yellowed papers scattered across the workbench. Pressing his lips tightly together in concentration, he felt the breeze start to swirl and eddy about him.

    ¡®Careful now¡­¡¯ the voice echoed from the darkness.

    The wind grew in strength, tugging loose scraps of parchment from the table and whipping them into a vortex around him. The terrible glowing shape inside his head seemed to grow larger until he could almost see it sparking and flickering in the air. Soon, a howling gale roamed around the small space, pulling books from the shelves to join the swirling mass of paper whirling around him. Beyond the roar of the wind and the tearing of paper, he heard the old man laughing, clapping his hands excitedly as though in congratulation.

    Fighting desperately to contain the energies rippling through his being, James drew the shape back inside himself, crystallising it into a single blinding point in the depths of his mind. The focusing of the power had been instinctive, more an act to preserve his sanity than the integrity of the dream, but the simple gesture silenced the prowling wind. The resulting silence was complete, but for the whisper of parchment as it fluttered back to the ground.

    ¡®Do not forget me, boy,¡¯ the wizened voice said.

    There was a blinding flash of light and then the stone floor was plummeting away from James¡¯ feet like an elevator crashing down a lift shaft. Forcing his head up, he watched in wonder as his body hurtled up through the tunnel, past countless rows of books and other strange objects half-seen in the darkness. The circle of light grew steadily in the distance and he gritted his teeth, accelerating harder still. The damp stone walls became a blur, his hospital gown rippling around him like blue flames.

    With his mind clamped upon the blistering blue diamond inside his head, he shot like a cork from a bottle into a night sky filled with stars. James laughed and pushed himself higher still, twisting and tumbling through the cool night air like a skydiver in reverse.

    Gradually, he slowed his ascent until his mind finally found a point of equilibrium within the near limitless power now at his disposal. His body halted in mid-air, his gown shifting lazily in the breeze. He must have climbed miles into the air because when he looked down, there was no sign of the place he had emerged from; only a thin, silver ribbon of river trailing far below, like a piece of white cotton thread discarded on a slate floor.

    Slowly, he rotated in place, gazing in wonder at the vastness of sky within which he now floated. Never before had he experienced a dream quite so real! There were so many stars, and all of them fixed within strange constellations that somehow held their positions within the intangible fragility of the dream.

    His eyes suddenly widened when he discovered something miraculous behind him. Hanging there in the midst of the glittering firmament were two moons.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡®Of course! Two moons! Why not indeed!¡¯ he laughed.

    One of the moons was small like the real moon, but bright green and as smooth as a polished stone. The other was much larger and gleamed white, filled with craters and swathes of ash like dusky bruises across its glowing surface. Again he laughed, unable to believe his imagination could conjure up something quite so incredible.

    Filling his lungs with the delicious night air, he squealed with delight before barrelling off through the sky once more. He pushed himself faster and faster, testing the limits of his newfound freedom. The hospital gown fluttered and snapped against his body, the wind taking his breath and pulling tears from his eyes. There was a clap of thunder as he shot through the sky faster than sound.

    At last, breathless and trembling with laughter, James slowed his mad dash across the sky to peer down at a new landscape slowly passing beneath him. An endless tapestry of farmed fields filled his vision like some great patchwork quilt woven out of the blue and silver-green moonlight. Here and there, tiny clusters of flickering lights revealed what must have been distant villages. But he passed them by, transfixed by a new wonder that had materialised upon the horizon.

    In the distance, a fine tracery of golden light was etched into the darkness like lines of fire. Steeling himself, he swept downwards, pointing himself at the fiery constellation of lights like an arrow seeking a bright target. As he drew nearer he laughed again in bewildered delight, for he saw that it was a medieval city, composed of countless stone towers and wooden spires. Lanterns of yellow, green and red zigzagged between the avenues of tall buildings, illuminating cobbled streets bustling with activity. Smiling mischievously, James twisted in the air before hurtling down between the tottering wooden houses. Strangely-dressed people ran screaming into doorways and dove into dark alleys as he thundered past, sending the lanterns bobbing and weaving in his wake.

    Laughing merrily to himself, he brought his feet beneath him and swept up the side of a church tower, before stepping lightly onto the tiled roof of its conical spire. Again, he had cause to marvel at the incredible detail of the dream; he could feel the lingering warmth of day upon the tiles beneath his bare feet; hear the gritty crunch as it settled beneath his weight.

    With one hand resting upon an iron weather vane, he gazed down at the cobbled market square far below. Curious wooden buildings crowded around its edge, and at its centre a huge stone fountain carved in the shape of a fantastical sea monster spewed gouts of silvered water into the cool evening air.

    He was contentedly taking these new marvels into his senses when a bell began to toll. Its sound was insistent, almost frantic in its play, and as he gazed out across the sea of spires and rooftops at his feet, he heard another and then another join the fray. The dreadful din jarred in his ears like the discordant chimes of a wedding peal gone horribly wrong, but yet others were joining the clamour. Before long, the very air seemed to vibrate with the deafening sound as every church rang out in demented chorus.

    Just as James was beginning to suspect that his very presence might have been to blame for this most unpleasant intrusion upon his dream, something whistled past his ear. Turning his head, he sensed another object take flight and plucked it from the air with a gesture of his mind. The arrow floated before him glinting in the moonlight before he let it clatter to the tiles at his feet.

    ¡®There it is!¡¯ someone yelled from the market square far below. ¡®Take it down! Take it down!¡¯

    A volley of black arrows laced up into the air from dark shapes mustered below, but with another gleeful chuckle, James launched himself away from the spire, confident that he could fly faster than any arrow let loose by their clumsy hands.

    ¡®What a curious dream!¡¯ he laughed as he climbed beyond their reach. ¡®And how wonderful!¡¯

    Blazing a path beyond the city walls, he followed a wide river which swept out towards a distant range of mountains. Flying low over the great expanse of slow-moving water, he watched his reflection bend and flicker in its glittering surface. As though for the first time, he noticed that he wore his hospital gown, the bright blue fabric fluttering lazily about his pale body. His spiteful mind sought to remind him of his impending operation and with a defiant yell he barrelled back into the sky.

    He found a dense bank of cloud high above him and for a long time played about its wispy top; thundering in and out of clouds made silver and green by the light of the two moons. His body was somehow hot from all the flying and the cool embrace of the vapour made him tremble with pleasure.

    Emboldened by his continuing adventure, he plunged deeper into the mass of cloud, seeking its dark interior. A flash of lightning rippled out to greet him, momentarily filling the space with blinding light. He gazed about himself in fascination, once more awed by the beauty of the dream. It was as he hung motionless within the scintillating fire that he became aware of a curious sensation. His body felt suddenly unbalanced and found himself compelled to peer into the gloom beneath. It was as though his body were tethered to a length of thread and it was pulling him, ever so gently, towards the ground. Intrigued, he let the pull guide him as lightning flared all around.

    A vast darkness materialised beneath him, stretching off towards a range of crooked mountains like a row of witch¡¯s hats. It was a forest, but a forest unlike any he had ever seen before. Here there were trees that were gigantic, rising up from the ground like towering explosions of wood. At their feet, the lesser trees of oak, elm and ash crowded around them, like young saplings eager to emulate their monstrous cousins.

    Beneath the clouds, darkness lay thick upon the land, and it was only through the frequent bursts of lightning that he saw the forest begin to enclose around him. The invisible thread pulled more strongly now and he glided down towards a small clearing, overshadowed by one of the gigantic trees. It was only as he neared the ground that he realised with dismay that the dream was about to end. He wanted desperately to fly back up into the clouds, but the force pulling him to the ground was now as strong as iron cables lashed about his legs. Closing his eyes, he resignedly prepared for the familiar disorientation of waking.

    But when his eyes opened, he found himself standing alone in the wet forest.

    In the darkness, a distant rumble of thunder growled through the trees, and then there was just the steady patter of rain, quietly tapping the countless leaves that surrounded him. He peered around in confusion, his feet resting upon something hard and unyielding. Disorientated, he glanced down and saw a carved stone platform protruding from a thicket of swaying ferns like the half-exposed altar of some ancient ruin.

    Slowly, he brought his head back up, his heart now hammering wildly in his chest. He clamped his eyes tightly shut and tried to control his rising panic. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to open his eyes, hoping against hope that the dream would be ended.

    He opened his eyes.

    Searing pain ripped through his shoulder as his body was jerked violently backwards. His back thudded against something hard, his breath exploding out of his lungs in a gurgling exhalation. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his hands grasping the long, black shaft now protruding obscenely from his shoulder.

    He¡¯d been shot!

    He¡¯d been shot by an arrow!

    With difficulty, he forced his head up from where it rested against his chest as another blinding flash of lightening detonated above. For a whole second, the small clearing was illuminated as clear as day. In that moment, he saw a nightmare of black shadow creep forward; a cruel, jagged blade clenched in a pale, white fist. Swirling black hair swept above a pair of beautiful eyes made terrible by the feral grimace of a scarred, white face.

    In the moments before the blade was brought to his throat, he screamed into the booming thunder the only words left to his panic-stricken mind.

    ¡®Help me! Somebody help me!¡¯

 4 - Waking

    James opened his eyes onto pitch darkness and blinding pain. Sucking a ragged breath through clenched teeth, he opened his mouth to scream, but all he could manage was a strangled sob.

    ¡®I can¡¯t see!¡¯ he spluttered. ¡®I¡¯m blind! My god, I¡¯m blind!¡¯

    Tendons bulged from his neck as he attempted to raise himself from where he lay, but only crippling pain greeted his movements.

    He slumped back, fighting for breath.

    ¡®Nurse?¡¯ he gasped. ¡®Goddamn it, where the hell is everyone?¡¯

    Suddenly, as though in answer to his plight, the darkness seemed to take on new texture. Strange shapes appeared to dance and flicker across his vision as a feeble light the colour and texture of honey blossomed into existence.

    ¡®Thank god,¡¯ James sobbed, relieved that his eyes were not to blame for his temporary blindness. ¡®Nurse, my arm, it feels¡­¡¯ he croaked, before stopping to fight off a wave of nausea. ¡®The operation¡­ I think something¡¯s gone wrong!¡¯

    His eyes stared up out of the immobile weight of his head, as he helplessly watched the approaching light bend and flicker across the mist still clinging to his vision.

    ¡®Nurse?¡¯ he barked, grimacing at the resulting flash of pain. ¡®Say something goddamn it!¡¯

    The light¡¯s progress was halted by his outburst and as he looked on through blurred eyes, he thought he saw a candle clasped between trembling hands.

    ¡®Was there a power cut? What the hell¡¯s happened to the lights?¡¯

    There was no reply to his questions, but the source of light slowly resumed its ponderous advance.

    Finally he got his first glimpse of the young nurse, now revealed in the guttering light of the candle. Her face swam in the haze of his vision, a pale oval with almond-shaped eyes as dark and fathomless as black pits.

    James blinked tears from his eyes, and regarded the face that seemed so reluctant to meet his own.

    ¡®My god, what the hell¡¯s gone wrong?¡¯ James spluttered. ¡®Am I dying?¡¯

    His hands tightened into rigid claws, and in a wild moment of panic he imagined that he had awoken in the silent depths of the hospital morgue.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡®Please,¡¯ the girl finally said, her voice wavering, ¡®you have been gravely injured, and only now are you breaking free of your fever. You must rest and keep as still as possible.¡¯

    Her words seemed to take strength from one another and with a firm set to her small mouth she took another step forward, casting the feeble glow of the candle across the narrow bed.

    ¡®What the hell do you mean, injured?¡¯ James whimpered, trying to cast his mind back to the moments before the operation. The last he remembered, he had been lying upon the operating table, preparing to be put under.

    Had he fallen off the table?

    As the nurse drew closer, he realised with a sudden chill that she wasn¡¯t wearing her uniform but what appeared to be a bathrobe of white silk. Spurred on by her odd appearance, his eyes travelled past the nurse¡¯s slender figure to the room beyond, seeking confirmation that the hospital walls were safely surrounding him.

    His heart lurched at what he saw.

    Instead of the familiar, sterile white walls festooned with blinking machines and gleaming white porcelain, he beheld the impossibility of walls fashioned from carved wood. The guttering light of the candle bathed the intricate carvings in squirming shadows, illuminating cascades of carved leaves and strange flowers weaving between the serpentine boughs of fantastical trees. The walls seemed to move and coruscate within the flickering light, as though a restless forest moved within the dark grain of the wood.

    A cool, slender hand touched James¡¯ fevered brow and brought his eyes back from the hypnotic dance of the walls. The scared animal that had peered through the nurse¡¯s eyes just moments before was replaced now by genuine concern. When she spoke, her words came more freely as though emboldened by his helplessness.

    ¡®The arrow was not poisoned, yet your body acts as though it were,¡¯ she said, her brows knitting together above the inky depths of her eyes. ¡®For two days you have been close to death, but slowly you return to us.¡¯

    The girl¡¯s soft words crashed into James¡¯ skull like cruel weights, adding to the sum of pain throbbing within.

    ¡®Arrow?¡¯ he whispered hoarsely.

    The fragmented details of a half-remembered dream slowly bubbled to the surface of his mind. He had been flying through the cool night air, his hospital gown billowing and fluttering about his body. He remembered descending into a great, dark forest, lit by flashes of lightning and driving sheets of rain. He remembered the solid weight of the black arrow shaft, pinning his body to the tree, the blurred outline of his attacker moving in for the kill¡­

    ¡®Impossible,¡¯ his voice grated.

    Instinctively, he reached a trembling hand toward his head, seeking out the wound left by surgical saw and scalpel. But as his fingers tentatively, then frantically explored the stubble clinging to his scalp, there was no such wound to be found; only the now familiar ache of the corruption still lurking beneath the casement of his skull.

    Pain, more intense and frightening than anything he had ever experienced before, suddenly boiled inside his head. He screamed uncontrollably into the room, sending the nurse¡¯s hand recoiling from his fevered brow like a small bird taking flight in the midst of a storm.

    The candle spluttered and died, and against the solid embrace of the bed, he tumbled back into the black void from which he had come.

 5 - Lord Galen

    When the wooden spoon was brought back to his lips James opened his mouth, accepting another mouthful of the strange broth.

    With dismay, he had awoken moments before to the room of carved walls. His first sight upon forcing his heavy lids to open had been the nurse, who now sat beside his small pallet bed dressed as before in the curious bathrobe of white silk. A tremulous fear still flickered behind her dark eyes, but in the intervening hours since he¡¯d last been awake she appeared to have mastered herself; her delicate hand passing between his mouth and the steaming bowl with quiet deliberation.

    James¡¯ panic of the previous night had abated somewhat to the realisation that it was now day. The absolute darkness of night had retreated to a warm, golden glow issuing from a round window set within the carved wall at his side. The light had a curious solidity, as though the filaments of golden light passing through the mottled glass were made of spun cotton.

    As he ate, he tried valiantly to resist the painful evidence of his eyes, focusing instead upon the slow, methodical mechanics of chewing. Even so, his eyes could not help but repeatedly return to the carved walls which compelled the eye like a forest blaze. The rich tapestry of shapes and patterns plunged in and out of the wood as though they were swirls of oil riding a succession of waves. The illusion of movement created by the flickering candle was no less potent in the light of day; the skill of the artisan who had worked the wood into these fantastic forms could not have been anything less than a genius.

    James¡¯ mouth closed upon another spoonful of broth. The flavour was unfamiliar, and yet it was undoubtedly the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. It was thick and velvety in texture, with lumps of what felt like soft potato against his palate. But these textures were where the familiarity ended, for it was like tasting food for the first time; his tongue felt inadequate to the task of processing the myriad signals clambering from his mouth and into his aching brain.

    As the spoon passed once more between his cracked lips, he looked up suddenly into the nurse¡¯s eyes as though seeing her for the first time. Frowning, he attempted to pin down her features and reconcile them with the carved walls filling the room with their ceaseless movement. Somehow, the girl¡¯s simple features seemed to compliment her elaborate surroundings, as though the two forms had been carved from the same tree. Her dark eyes were like depthless pits plunging into dark oak, the pointed blade of her nose and the long fall of her obsidian hair, hinting at mysterious purpose and unfathomable meaning.

    James¡¯ eyes refocused as he noticed an involuntary shudder pass through the girl¡¯s body.

    ¡®Why are you so scared of me?¡¯ he asked.

    At that moment, the sound of wood sliding on wood intruded upon the silence. The nurse responded with a sharp intake of breath, sending the wooden spoon clattering to the floor. To James¡¯ amazement, she stumbled to her feet and bowed her head in supplication, her pale hands clasped tightly behind her.

    With great effort, he managed to lift his heavy head from the pillow and looked past the startled countenance of the nurse, to where a section of the carved wall had slid aside. In the shadow-filled space that had opened, a tall man regarded him intently.

    A wild thought came unbidden to James¡¯ pained mind as he regarded the newcomer through squinted eyes. For just a moment, he thought he saw the face of his anaesthetist scowling back at him from the shadows. However, when the man eventually spoke, any lingering hopes that he remained in hospital were quickly and irrevocably banished.

    ¡®Will the barbarian live?¡¯ he asked coldly.

    ¡®Yes, he grows stronger by the moment,¡¯ the nurse replied meekly, conducting her conversation towards the floor as though it had asked the question of her. ¡®His fever has broken and he now takes food.¡¯

    The man appeared to nod minutely in the shadows, before turning abruptly to leave. But the space he had occupied was promptly filled by two other men who quickly entered the small room like dark fragments of some hideous nightmare. The men wore suits of dark armour with gleaming swords hanging from their waists. Their faces were pale, their eyes dark almonds glinting in the golden sunlight.

    James¡¯ mind seemed to tear at the sight of the intruders sweeping across the room towards him. His legs kicked feebly at the heavy blankets of his cot, his arms flailing uselessly at his sides.

    ¡®Help!¡¯ he cried out in desperation. ¡®Nurse, help me!¡¯

    His eyes sought the white beacon of his carer but she was now hidden behind the approaching wall of black. Hands like steel talons clamped upon his arms hoisting his naked body from the bed. Searing pain exploded from his shoulder and his vision blackened as a wave of nausea flooded his body. He stole one final glance at the nurse, before he was roughly pulled from the light and carried into darkness.

    ***

    The men passed silently through the shadows of the corridor, their brisk pace and iron grip unrelenting. The air was cool and heavy with the scent of freshly broken soil. James gritted his teeth and forced his head up from where his feet whispered along the floor. As the walls of the corridor slid past his eyes, he was not surprised to notice that they too bore carved designs; intricate patterns that shifted in and out of focus as the darkness occluded their forms.

    Light flooded into the space as they rounded a corner, a huge oval window streaming gossamer sunlight into the corridor. As he was dragged past, he stabbed his eyes at the scene beyond the opening, seeking to gain some point of reference to this place of torment. His glimpse was fleeting, but what he saw was enough to make him recoil. He screamed, causing the soldier¡¯s grip to tighten as he was carried on into the gloom.

    Despite his pain and fear, it was the sight he had beheld from the window that continued to haunt him. Framed between impossibly tall trees there had risen a range of mountains, soaring into the sky like the blackened jaws of a colossal beast. The only mountains he knew of in England were diminutive slopes compared to these; hell, even the Himalayas would struggle to emulate their form! But as impossible as this sight had seemed, it paled into insignificance next to that other impossibility that had hung above the alien landscape. Descending from the sky like some malignant growth of light had been a sun, bloated and huge; its vastness warping and distending as it bent towards the distant mountains as though to obliterate them in its fiery inferno.

    After resisting the painful evidence of his eyes since first coming awake, he had to finally admit the truth that had been hiding in plain sight all along. The operation to remove his tumours had obviously gone disastrously wrong. As Doctor Smithson had warned, his brain had been damaged, and now he was completely and irrecoverably lost within a delusion of his own making!

    No sooner had this grim revelation flared into his consciousness did the movement around him grind to an abrupt halt. A door closed somewhere behind them with a quiet whisper, and then there was only silence.

    James groaned as he forced his head to climb up from his sagging shoulders and attempted to focus on the room beyond his tear-soaked eyes.

    They were standing in a large hall ablaze with the golden light of the setting sun. Like everywhere else in this strange building the walls were carved from wood, but the motifs of leaves, flowers and trees were replaced by geometric patterns; like the shapes conjured by a kaleidoscope or the swirls adorning an oriental carpet.

    Three men, dressed in the same dark armour as his bearers, stood facing him; the swords at their hips gilt by slanting beams of sunlight. Squinting past the men, James looked towards a huge circular window at the far end of the hall; an elaborate construction of concentric circles that culminated in a central ¡°eye¡± that framed the molten orb of the setting sun.

    As he blinked tears from his eyes, he noticed another figure silhouetted against the window. His body was tall and slim, and seemed to bend and flicker around the outpouring of light as though he were being immolated by the formidable sunset beyond.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The silence in the hall stretched out, filled only by James¡¯ ragged breathing and the furtive movements he made between the two men. Finally, he let out an anguished groan and let his naked body sag to the floor.

    As though hearing this utterance from across the vastness of the hall, the shadowy figure suddenly turned and walked forward. Unlike the soldiers assembled around him, the man who now approached wore no armour and carried no weapon. Instead, he was wrapped in a robe of green, like a monk¡¯s habit, dyed the colour of winter holly leaves. His hair was long and as white as sun-bleached bone, but the face that parted the curtains of white might have belonged to a man of only thirty years. His movement was strangely effortless as though his graceful gait had been honed upon a deep ocean floor.

    He came to a halt several paces away and regarded James intently.

    ¡®Your name?¡¯ he asked, his voice as effortless and graceful as his movement had been across the floor.

    James stood awkwardly, torn between the ache within his shoulder and the now familiar gnawing pain inside his head.

    ¡®James,¡¯ he heard himself mumble.

    ¡®Jame-sss.¡¯

    The man¡¯s lips seemed to ponder the word as though it were unfamiliar, an object of curiosity that could not be contained within a single breath.

    ¡®And from where do you hail, Jame?¡¯ he continued, omitting the final consonant of his name as though it were already forgotten.

    ¡®Hail?¡¯ James replied, screwing up his face in disgust. ¡®Where the hell is this? Who the hell are you?¡¯ he shouted.

    The tallest of the three soldiers standing beside the green-robed man suddenly moved forward, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.

    ¡®Answer or be slain where you stand, demon,¡¯ the man bellowed.

    James recoiled at the violence of the man and silently beseeched the more generous countenance at his side. The robed man shook his head minutely and placed a hand upon the soldier¡¯s arm, causing him to reluctantly step back into line. With his hand returned to the folds of his robes, the white-haired man returned his gaze upon him. After a measured pause, he spoke into the heavy silence that had settled between them.

    ¡®My name is Galen, Lord of the Western prefectures of Ren and brother to the Custodian of the last Forest Citadel. You are standing in my home, the garden manor of Galendar.¡¯

    The man¡¯s dark eyes seemed to focus on a point behind James¡¯ head, as though his true self were standing one step behind him. With a slight gesture of his hand, the two guards relaxed their grip upon his bruised arms and he sagged to the floor like a broken scarecrow.

    ¡®Please forgive the rudeness of my questions and the coarseness of your delivery to this audience. Were it not for current events within our land, and the nature of your arrival within it, you would have been welcomed warmly as a guest.¡¯

    He offered the merest suggestion of a smile, as though his flesh were unfamiliar with its presence upon his pale face. Pausing, he glanced across at the other men before proceeding.

    ¡®Tell me, how can it be that a man born of the plains speaks the language of the Gelding?¡¯ he asked, a deep frown quickly banishing the tenuous threads of his smile like smoke blown from a smouldering candle.

    ¡®I speak your language?¡¯ James smirked, grimacing at the throbbing pain in his head. ¡®You¡¯re speaking English now because it¡¯s the only language I know! Gelding is my bloody name for Christ¡¯s sake!¡¯

    The robed lord smiled generously, the previous flicker of warmth now laid bare like a gift across his mouth.

    ¡®Is it more likely that the seventeen prefectures of the Gelding speak your language, or that you, in fact, speak ours?¡¯

    The faces of the other men remained impassive but a wide smile now decorated the lord¡¯s thin lips.

    Sneering at the perversity of his predicament, James tore his arm from the guard¡¯s loosened grip and swung his fist into his wounded shoulder. Crushing pain met the contact, snatching the breath from his lungs. His body trembled and shook, but whilst his eyes flooded with tears and he bent almost double between the soldiers, the elaborate delusion rolled remorselessly on. A dark red stain blossomed out of the white bandage and soon there was only the quiet patter of his blood upon the floor.

    ¡®I hail from the real world!¡¯ James suddenly gasped. ¡®I¡¯m dying on a hospital bed, and you¡¯ve been sent by my damaged brain to torment me!¡¯

    James paused to swallow the bile steadily creeping up into his mouth, but he glared up at the started lord with none of his anger diminished.

    ¡®And, swords! Why the hell do you all have bloody swords?¡¯

    He took another hurried breath and winced as pain bristled inside his head.

    ¡®I,¡¯ he shouted, stabbing his chest with his hand, ¡®am real! You are not! This is all fake! You¡¯re all bloody fakes! Do you hear me?¡¯

    The fury of James¡¯ tirade reverberated around the large room, and seemed to move the serious men standing before him, as a gust of wind might stir the heavy boughs of an obstinate tree. As the silence stretched on, James finally felt compelled to drag his head back from where it rested. The fathomless dark eyes of the lord were upon him, his expression thoughtful as though what he had said had laid bare a dark secret. The lord stole a glance at the tall soldier beside him, and after a considered pause spoke into the silence a single word.

    ¡®Leander¡­¡¯

    A whisper of wood heralded the opening of another door, and soon, a tall, slender woman was walking gracefully into the carved hall. She wore a simple close-fitting black tunic and leggings, with waist-length hair braided into an elaborate ponytail that cascaded down her back. A quiver of arrows bristled at her hip and a long, black bow was clasped tightly in one hand. Her movement echoed the effortless stride of the robed man, like a sleek cat stalking its prey.

    When the young woman had come to a halt beside the lord, she turned her cold, hard gaze upon James.

    James flinched, his eyes widening in fear. The deep, curving scar, which ran across her eye and down her cheek, seemed to dance in the shimmering light like a cruel sneer. The beautiful, disfigured face staring back at him was that of his attacker!

    The lord watched James¡¯ reaction intently, before meditatively clasping his hands at his waist.

    ¡®Jame, I want to introduce you to my daughter, Leander. It was she who brought you to my home, and she who very nearly ended your life.¡¯

    The lord turned to the young woman, whose face remained impassive despite the dramatic introduction.

    ¡®Leander, please tell us what you saw on the night of the two moons, the night you encountered this¡­ this man from another world.¡¯

    The young woman continued to stare at him, her expression as unyielding as the carved walls that surrounded them. But when she finally spoke, her voice was sweet despite the harshness of its delivery.

    ¡®We were tracking a pack of weevil in the outer fringe, when the storm struck. Tavin and Fen were flanking the pack as I pushed them towards the boundary fences. There must have been more than a score of them, only three leagues from these very walls!¡¯

    The young woman¡¯s eyes widened with pained disbelief, a flicker of emotion which touched upon her impassive face like a flame blossoming from cold kindling.

    ¡®There was a thunderclap so loud that I feared I would be struck by sky fire, but when I looked up, I saw instead a blue star falling from the heavens.¡¯

    The girl¡¯s eyes did not leave James¡¯ for a moment, causing him to squirm uncomfortably.

    ¡®But the star slowed and sailed down between the trees like a stone plunged into a lake. Neglecting the hunt, I pursued the star and found it floating above the ruined altar of Pellinor.¡¯

    The girl paused, raising an accusatory finger at James as though it were another arrow about to take flight.

    ¡®It was this man!¡¯

    ¡®Impossible!¡¯ James shouted, shaking his head in denial. He felt suddenly stifled and claustrophobic under the weight of the young woman¡¯s words; words that seemed to be dragging him deeper and deeper into his delusion.

    Galen held up his hand for quiet and motioned for his daughter to continue.

    ¡®His body floated above the stone, bathed in blue flame. It looked like a kabavar come to spy upon our lands, for his hair was shorn like one of those fallen people. So when its eyes suddenly opened I notched an arrow and released it, fixing the demon to a leander tree.¡¯

    James took his eyes from the young woman and found the lord watching him intently, his mouth caught halfway between a grimace and a smile as though his face could not decide which was a more fitting accompaniment to his daughter¡¯s story.

    ¡®But, when I approached to end its life,¡¯ the girl continued, ¡®I realised my mistake. For the words it spoke were not those of a demon, but of a cowardly man borne of the sky.¡¯

    Turning at last from James, she faced her father, a deep frown furrowing her brow.

    ¡®Did I do wrong bringing him here, father?¡¯ she asked, for the first time betraying a hint of uncertainty.

    The lord clasped his hands together within the thick folds of his robes and smiled tiredly down at his daughter.

    ¡®Perhaps, had you killed the man, we would not now have learned his name,¡¯ he replied. ¡®Friend or foe, in death, such questions would have been irrelevant.¡¯

    The lord¡¯s steady gaze was piercing as he turned his eyes back upon James.

    ¡®Only once before has a man born of the plains spoken the language of the Gelding, for it is beyond the tongues and minds of men. And yet,¡¯ he paused, a frown creasing his brow, ¡®you speak it freely, as though it had always been your own.

    ¡®I confess that I am greatly disturbed by the means of your deliverance to our land, and more so that the forest has marked you in such a way, for only enemies of the Gelding would be harmed by the flesh of our forest.¡¯

    The Lord¡¯s focus seemed to shift and slowly his frown vanished.

    ¡®However, it is beyond my knowledge and judgement to decide your fate this day. I must seek council with others more worthy of such questions. You will convalesce within my home and be treated as a guest until the day I find cause to treat you otherwise. May it be that I welcome you next as a friend of the land and not one that would see it all turn to ruin.¡¯

    The lord stood for a moment, lost in thought, before taking his daughter by the arm and leading her to the great round window at the end of the carved hall.

    The giant sun was now a melting crescent of crimson fire, flooding the great hall with light as thick and livid as arterial blood. In the darkening chamber, the tall warrior nodded his head, and with one, swift movement, James was lifted into the air and carried back through the dark labyrinthine house like a helpless mouse borne by talons.

 6 - Convalescence

    For three days James lay upon the pallet bed, presided over by the nurse. As time passed, she became noticeably more relaxed within his company and soon she forgot to flinch if their skin accidentally touched.

    Following the strange audience with the enigmatic Lord Galen, James had sunk into deep apathy. He was no longer sure of anything his senses told him. He ate. He drank. He slept. But each day brought the same conclusion; the beautiful carved walls of his room were the walls of a prison erected by his damaged mind.

    The nurse brought a small wooden plate to the bed filled with a curious assortment of baked vegetables; the fragrant steam rising from their charred skin as unfamiliar as their shape. With delicate fingers, she selected a cigar-shaped tuber and lifted it towards the mouth that had been silent for the past three days.

    When James suddenly spoke, the nurse jumped, dropping the curious vegetable back onto its plate.

    ¡®Weevil,¡¯ James said, recalling the strange word he had heard used by Lord Galen¡¯s daughter, ¡®what¡¯s a weevil?¡¯

    The nurse seemed to hesitate as though uncertain whether to respond, but then she carefully replaced the plate upon her lap and regarded him thoughtfully.

    ¡®Perhaps you know them by another name upon the plains?¡¯ she asked shyly.

    ¡®I¡¯m not from the bloody plains!¡¯ he groaned, staring up at the ceiling in frustration.

    Flinching only slightly from his outburst, the nurse folded her hands upon her knee and waited for his gaze to return. After a considered pause, she began to tell a story; her sweet voice slow and measured as though picking over the bones of an oft¡¯ told fairytale.

    ¡®For many thousands of turns, our ancestors lived, as we do, amongst the great trees of the Gelding. They worshipped the forest and were its rightful guardians, caring for its creatures and tending to its growth.

    ¡®But then one day, for reasons beyond our understanding, a great change came upon a community of Gelders recently returned from abroad. The change was sudden and obscene, for they chose to defile that which once served them so well; hunting and killing the creatures of the forest and taking sharpened steel to the trees that were once their home.

    ¡®For the first and only time in our history, Gelder turned upon Gelder. A swift and bloody war was fought between our ancestors and those that sought the ruination of our domain. The war was savage, and many died in the defence of their lives and the forest that was in their keeping. But in the end, those of the changing were defeated.

    ¡®Those who surrendered were banished from their ancestral cradle and forced to live in exile upon the plain. ¡°The Sundering¡± it was so called, for it marked a painful splintering from our culture that would never again be healed. These outcasts would come to know great hardship, and many would die of starvation, robbed as they were of the forest¡¯s bounty. But of those who survived, many would flee to the fabled forests of the north; to the great forest we now call the Morren-Dumath.

    ¡®For a short time, they knew great happiness and prosperity there. For this new forest provided bountiful flesh for their hunters, and many fine trees for their sharpened steel.

    ¡®But what they did not know, and could not know, was that their new home was enchanted.

    ¡®A powerful spirit dwelt deep within the heart of the forest, far older than the formation of the great forests themselves. And over the turns that followed, this great darkness acted upon their minds, robbing them of the memory of who they were and who they had once been. In time, this once proud and graceful race were reduced to living like savages, mindlessly wandering amongst the black trees of Morren-Dumath, until they disappeared from existence altogether.

    ¡®It is said that within the great darkness at the heart of the forest, they were finally changed; their fair flesh transformed to resemble the twisted roots of the most misbegotten trees.

    ¡®But, whilst the transformation had defiled their heritage and plundered their great beauty, it had not removed their insatiable lust for flesh. So when they were sent forth from the foul pit of their changing they began their long penance, doomed to forever wander the land feeding upon what tiny morsels of animal life they might find.

    ¡®Perhaps they had a lingering memory of shame for what they had become, or perhaps the forest had instilled in them a new fear of the sharpened steel they once used themselves.

    ¡®But, whatever the reason, they never again troubled the races of man.¡¯

    James listened to the story with growing interest, like a child being told an unsettling bedtime story.

    If this really is a delusion, he thought to himself bleakly, then, there¡¯s a part of my mind spinning this story whilst the other half listens!

    With this unpleasant thought in mind, he quickly pounced on an inconsistency, and quickly spoke to fill the silence trailing from the end of the nurse¡¯s narration.

    ¡®The young woman who shot me,¡¯ he faltered momentarily, searching for her name, ¡®Leander. She talked about a pursuit through the forest. They were hunting the weevil. If they are so harmless, why do harm to such creatures?¡¯

    ¡®The weevil are changed,¡¯ the nurse replied simply.

    ¡®Are you telling me that they now prefer the flesh of people?¡¯ he said with a smirk.

    ¡®Five turns ago, a child in a nearby village was set upon by a weevil. It slaughtered the child and devoured its remains whilst the terrified mother watched.¡¯

    The nurse¡¯s voice had lost its warmth and settled now upon James¡¯ ears like an accusation.

    ¡®We used to scare our children with stories of the child-eating weevil, but it was only a story to make them aware of the dangers of the land. Weevil were as harmless as squirrels playing in the trees. If we ever saw one, we had only to clap our hands, and the creature would flee in terror. But now¡­¡¯ she faltered, her words once more trailing off into silence.

    James shook his head, smiling wryly.

    He didn¡¯t believe a word the woman was saying; it was just another fairy tale, like the one within which he was now trapped.

    Ignoring the pain that now radiated from the nurse¡¯s downcast eyes, he pounced upon another strange word he remembered from Leander¡¯s report.

    ¡®Kabavar! What the hell is a kabavar, then?¡¯ he barked.

    The nurse turned her deep, sad eyes to face him, and for a moment he floundered in their intensity.

    ¡®Kabavar are the fallen,¡¯ she replied, her voice now flat and emotionless. ¡®They do the other¡¯s bidding and are lost to us forever.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s dark eyes glistened as tears trickled across her cheeks.

    ¡®My brother became such a creature, and it was I who took his life.¡¯

    The nurse stood abruptly, her gentle face now tight with resentment.

    ¡®Please, do not ask any more of your questions, they accomplish nothing.¡¯

    Without a backwards glance, she fled from the room, leaving him to suffer the heavy silence alone.

    ***

    The next day, the nurse had lost the coldness that had finally settled onto her face the previous evening. Without saying a word, she took a slender wooden spoon and dipped it into a bowl of thin green soup, before bringing it to his mouth. But before it touched his lips, James quietly spoke the apology he had been preparing late into the previous night.

    Last night, he believed the apology was necessary, yet even now, as he said the words, he could not help but feel defeated by them. Apologising meant conceding that the nurse actually existed; that she was a real person with feelings that could be hurt. Nevertheless, he sighed with relief when the nurse smiled and nodded her head in thanks.

    Curious now, James asked if the nurse possessed a name of her own. The young woman hesitated, and as he looked back to her face, he saw that her smile was gone.

    ¡®My name¡¯s James,¡¯ he said quietly, closing his eyes upon another spoonful of the curious green soup.

    ¡®Jame,¡¯ she said, as though testing its unfamiliar shape within her mouth.

    Her gaze hardened, her eyes narrowed as though in reprimand.

    ¡®Names are powerful items to possess. You should not give them away so easily.¡¯

    The nurse fell silent as she continued to dip the spoon between the bowl and his mouth. He assumed that that was the end of their conversation when she finally averted her eyes and quietly said, ¡®My name is Bettiny.¡¯

    ¡®Betty?¡¯ James asked with a lopsided grin.

    ¡®Bet-in-y,¡¯ the nurse pronounced slowly, annoyed at his mispronunciation.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s just that your name¡¯s said differently where I¡¯m from.¡¯

    ¡®My name cannot be said differently, it is said how it is said. If it sounds different where you are from, then it is a different name.¡¯

    The young woman frowned for a moment but her smile was quick to return.

    ¡®Naming is perhaps a trifling matter to a barbarian, but to the people of the Gelding it is as important as breathing.¡¯

    ¡®Whatever you say, Bettiny,¡¯ James sighed, raising his hands in supplication.

    With her name out in the open, he decided to press her for the answer to another question that had lingered inside him ever since first awakening inside the room. The carved walls still held his attention despite the three days he had now spent here. And the longer he studied them, the more he appeared to see within their swirling designs.

    ¡®Bettiny, who carved these shapes into the walls?¡¯

    ¡®The walls were not carved. Sharpened blades may not touch the wood of the forest,¡¯ Bettiny admonished, as though reprimanding an ignorant child. ¡®The house was grown by Lord Galen.¡¯

    ¡®Grown? What on earth do you mean grown?¡¯ James replied, his ever-present frown deepening further.

    ¡®Please, no more questions,¡¯ she sighed. ¡®Lord Galen will return within two-span of days. He will be the one to determine what you are told and what you are not.¡¯

    Frowning, she reached forward, her slender fingers seeking the dressing wrapped tightly about his shoulder. James winced as her nimble fingers slowly unravelled the soiled bandage, eventually revealing a dark wound which sat upon his shoulder like a hot coal embedded in his bruised skin. Miraculously, the wound was now almost healed, and the pain had receded to the point where only the dull ache inside his head remained. Even within this prolonged dream, he was dismayed to find the numbness returning to the left side of his body, the familiar tremble rising back into the fingers of his left hand.

    ¡®Before Lord Galen left, he said that should you grow strong enough to walk, you would be permitted access to the rest of his home,¡¯ she said, applying a strange-smelling poultice and wrapping it in a clean bandage, ¡®as befits a guest of the House of Galendar.¡¯Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The nurse looked up, studying James¡¯ expression carefully.

    ¡®Do you feel capable of walking?¡¯

    James hadn¡¯t considered ever leaving the room again, determined instead to wait until that unknowable time when the dream would finally be lifted. But now that the question had been asked, he realised how much he wanted to move, to again feel his body in motion. Perhaps by taking control of his situation he might somehow escape the power it had over him?

    Grimacing, he raised himself from the bed. Taking the nurse¡¯s hand, he gingerly placed his foot upon the cool floor. His vision blackened around the edges for a moment, but quickly it subsided.

    ¡®I feel much better,¡¯ James said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

    ¡®The forest has healed you,¡¯ Bettiny replied.

    ¡®It wasn¡¯t the forest, it was you,¡¯ James grumbled. ¡®Thanks,¡¯ he added as an afterthought.

    The nurse smiled.

    ¡®From this day forward you will feed yourself,¡¯ she said with a decisive nod. ¡®But if you so wish, I will continue to join you for your meals. For, it is not customary for guests of Galendar to eat alone.¡¯

    James nodded wearily and stood up.

    His legs felt weak and he trembled slightly, but his muscles felt eager for movement to wake them from their slumber.

    ¡®Torrinth, please enter,¡¯ Bettiny said, rising to her feet.

    James¡¯ body tensed as the wooden door slid open and a tall, thin man with long, greying hair stepped inside; one of the strange, black swords hanging menacingly at his side. The man¡¯s face was gaunt, his cheekbones sharp and pressed tightly against his weathered skin. His eyes glanced in his direction for a moment before fixing upon a point straight ahead.

    ¡®Jame, this is Torrinth,¡¯ Bettiny said, gesturing to the silent man beside her. ¡®He is blademaster of this house and will be your guardian for the remainder of your stay here.¡¯

    She smiled at the old man, and he nodded in return, his serious, lined face completely devoid of emotion.

    ¡®He is mute, so do not waste breath with your many questions,¡¯ she added, smiling shyly.

    ¡®Why can¡¯t you be my guide?¡¯ James said, worriedly glancing at the man¡¯s gleaming sword.

    ¡®My time must be spent elsewhere this afternoon, and,¡¯ she hesitated, her smile vanishing, ¡®you must also know that Torrinth has been ordered to end your life the moment you attempt to use your powers again.¡¯

    James sighed wearily but managed a wry smile as he stepped towards the open door.

    ¡®Then in that case, I think I shall be quite safe.¡¯

    ***

    James shuffled down the dimly-lit corridor, retracing the path along which he had been dragged three days before. The old man walked apace a discreet distance behind, his feet barely registering a sound upon the wooden floor.

    The house ¨C if you could call it a house ¨C was huge and meandering. He had previously thought of the corridors as tunnels, threading beneath the ground, but now he saw that they were dappled with sunlight slanting through small windows far above his head. There were several doors recessed into the walls, but he ignored these, making his way instead towards the large window he knew to be waiting beyond the next bend. The memory of what he had seen beyond the house lingered in his mind like a fragile chalk drawing, and he was eager to prove to himself that today it would no longer exist. But when he finally reached the window, he was dismayed to discover that it had been shuttered; a thin golden line of light traced its oval edge, like the outline of a closed eye.

    Turning abruptly, he faced the old man.

    ¡®Can we get this window open?¡¯ he asked.

    In the dusky light, the silent man gave a short shake of his head.

    ¡®Why not?¡¯ James asked in exasperation.

    Again the old man merely shook his head and motioned for him to continue walking.

    Sighing loudly, James grudgingly complied.

    Walking now with determined strides, his knowing feet took him straight to the doors of Galen¡¯s great hall. He remembered his place of interrogation well; the massive circular eye that had poured forth the blinding light of the setting sun. As though in confirmation of the window he sought, the door was engraved with three concentric circles. Thoughtfully running his fingers across their shallow furrows, he braced his hands between the two doors and began to pull them apart.

    A gap of no more than two inches had opened between them when he felt a heavy hand alight upon his shoulder. Frowning, he turned to find the old man shaking his head.

    ¡®What the hell is the point of letting me explore the bloody house if I can¡¯t go anywhere in it?¡¯ James shouted.

    In reply, the old man merely stepped aside, inviting James to withdraw from the door. With a flash of childish defiance, James quickly reached for the doors and yanked them apart. From the corner of his eye he noticed a swift movement, like the unfurling wing of a large bird, and then the wicked edge of the black blade was resting against his throat.

    James froze where he stood and carefully withdrew his shaking hands from the door. The gesture was mirrored by the old man, who slowly lowered his sword. James took a trembling step backwards and with one graceful movement, the sword was returned to its clasp with a dull click. He continued to back away as the old man looked on impassively, outwardly showing no recognition of the violent gesture he had just committed.

    There was only one corridor left to explore and James now stumbled towards it, all the while casting suspicious glances at his silent follower. Here, a great many windows lined the walls but all were tightly shuttered; the outlines of light tinged with shifting green as though unseen leaves played beyond their surfaces.

    At the end of the long corridor he found two large doors set opposite one another, and between them, another huge circular window similarly shuttered against the outside. Like the doors to the great hall, these also bore markings. The first was decorated with the stylised carving of a tree, the other with a curious swirl, like water passing down a plughole.

    Cautiously, he reached a hand towards the door engraved with the tree, and waited for the old man to shake his head, or place a blade to his throat. When neither happened, he smiled weakly, and touched his hand to its smooth surface. With a gentle push, the door moved effortlessly aside.

    Beyond was a wide courtyard, bounded on four sides by the walls of the house. The buff-coloured walls seemed to flow out of the ground, as though an organic form had been pressed into a straight-sided mould. The roof was of thatch, though mottled green with moss and lichen.

    The centre of the courtyard was dominated by the immense trunk of a tree, and as James staggered from under a small overhanging roof, he craned his head to watch its impossible height dwindle into the clouds. The tree¡¯s bark appeared smooth, like that of a beech tree, but it was the colour of dull copper flecked with streaks of silver. Its innumerable branches twisted away from the towering trunk, fracturing into hundreds of tapering lengths laden with golden-red leaves.

    James swayed on his feet, and quickly averted his gaze to keep from toppling over. The sight of the tree was almost too much to bear. Not since that momentary glimpse of the strange world beyond the window had his mind been so tested.

    With his eyes fixed firmly upon the ground he walked slowly into the garden, following a meandering path that wove around the base of the tree. His bare feet passed through the tickling blades of grass, raising a delicate aroma on the air. A bewildering array of strange flowers bordered the path; each of them expressed in colours and shapes that should not have existed. There were bright pink flowers that sparkled like multifaceted crystals, trumpet-shaped flowers of blue that seemed to pulse with their own light, spherical black orbs trailing orange feathers that fluttered at his approach¡­

    He hadn¡¯t travelled far into the garden before he realised he had to sit down. Reaching a large, flat-topped stone he gratefully dropped his weight into its covering of moss, his mind reeling with the enormity of what he was seeing. Cupping his head in his hands, he took a deep breath before cautiously glancing back up at the tree. He realised then that he had half expected the monstrous tree to no longer exist. But it was still there, more real than ever¡­

    ¡®Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,¡¯ he muttered, rocking gently back and forth.

    Glancing back down its length, he noticed for the first time the wooden staircase sweeping around the prodigious trunk. The stairs climbed for hundreds of feet until they reached what appeared to be a wooden structure concealed within the distant canopy; its windows reflecting the light of the hidden sun like two golden coins.

    He had no intention whatsoever of climbing the tree, but he turned to the old man and pointed to the staircase anyway. As expected, the old man merely shook his head before returning his own gaze into the heights of the tree.

    For a long time, James sat in silent contemplation, considering these new sights that had been generated somewhere within his head. It was peaceful here and despite the armed man standing nearby, he felt a sudden calm descend upon him. It might have been his imagination, but as he sucked the sweet-smelling air into his lungs, his constant headache seemed for the first time to lessen.

    A blur of movement flashed from the corner of his eye and he looked up to find a squirrel the colour of burnished gold skittering across the immense tree trunk; the sound of its tiny claws gripping the bark with a flurry of dry crackles. A moment later, he stared in open-mouthed wonder as seven or eight other fragments of gold bounded over the high wall onto the swaying branches, tracing lines of yellow as they chased one another into the dizzying heights of the tree.

    A high, keening chirrup made him reluctantly draw his eyes back down to where a curious bird now perched upon a nearby stone. Its tiny head twitched this way and that, sending its black pip eyes in his direction. There was a blur of wings and then, miraculously, the bird was perched upon his knee.

    Once again, James¡¯ mind sought to master the growing panic that threatened to overwhelm him, for the bird was unlike any living creature he had ever encountered. Apart from its jet-black eyes, the feathers and skin encasing its tiny body were completely transparent; the crimson tangle of its internal viscera filling the bird¡¯s outline like a grizzly cross-section in a biology textbook.

    The bird appeared to scrutinise him closely, emitting short, delicate chirrups as though demanding questions of him. Its tiny heart beat like a furious red sun within its chest, its sack-like stomach filled with desiccated berries the colour of ripe lemons.

    James¡¯ leg twitched and the bird left his knee in a flurry of movement, arching over the high wall and out of sight. He glanced at Torrinth, seeking some kind of explanation for these new wonders that had assaulted his senses, but the old man merely resumed his silent contemplation of the tree as though he had forgotten James existed at all.

    Getting unsteadily to his feet James ambled past the old man, but by the time he had reached the door, Torrinth was again at his side.

    ¡®Well, let¡¯s see what my loopy mind has dreamed up for the next door,¡¯ James said dejectedly, as he slowly limped from the courtyard. ¡®That is, if you let me walk through the bloody thing,¡¯ he added, glancing at the black blade with distaste.

    Taking one last lingering look at the beautiful gardens, he turned to face the next door, his eyes drawn once more to the swirling design carved into its surface. He placed his hand on the door, and when the old man¡¯s head remained immobile, he proceeded to slide it slowly to one side.

    The room beyond was like nothing he had ever seen or imagined. Like the courtyard behind him, this space was also open to the sky. But instead of the single huge tree towering above the courtyard, here a series of lesser trees were ranged about the walls, their crisscrossing network of branches providing a gently swaying ceiling of green leaves. Beneath the trees, the entire floor was taken up by a huge rectangular pool of water, bounded on all sides by a narrow ledge of smooth wooden decking. It brought to mind a Roman bathhouse, but rendered in wood; the trunks of the various trees like ornate columns rising above the shimmering green water.

    Walking cautiously to the edge of the decking, James peered into its depths. Dark shapes seemed to shift and writhe below the surface, like seaweed swaying gently in a current. Yet strangely, despite the movement beneath the water, its surface remained unnaturally still as though the pool were filled not with water but with oil.

    James was shaken from the calming vision of the sun-dappled pool by the sound of its surface being broken. He turned towards a corner of the chamber and noticed that it was partially hidden behind a drooping curtain of golden leaves. Taking a few paces forward, he peered through a break in the curtain and came to an abrupt halt.

    Framed between the shifting golden leaves, a naked young woman pulled herself from the slick surface of the pool, her body gleaming in the dappled light as though newly varnished. Staring in disbelief, James watched as her long, slender legs pulled the rest of her body from the cloying slickness of the water. She paused for a moment, perched upon the edge of the decking before drawing her hands through her long, obsidian hair, scattering a fall of sparkling droplets back into the pool like diamonds loosed from her hand.

    Suddenly, she turned, staring back at him like a deer startled by the blast of a shotgun. Similarly stunned, James continued to stare as droplets of water lazily traced silver paths between her breasts, across her taut stomach and down to the charcoal shadow between her legs.

    As though coming out of a trance, James hurriedly directed his eyes to the floor, feeling the skin upon his face flush. It wasn¡¯t until now that he realised Torrinth was no longer at his side, and as he turned to leave, he found the old man standing within the shadows of the corridor, his back turned to the room like a closed door.

    ¡®So, you have found your legs at last.¡¯

    James halted in his tracks, and listened as the woman came nearer, her footsteps wet upon the wooden decking.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t realise you were bathing,¡¯ he replied, awkwardly resuming his exit from the chamber.

    ¡®Does my appearance disturb you so greatly?¡¯

    James stumbled to a halt once more, the spiteful rasp of the familiar voice rendering the question an accusation.

    ¡®You were content enough to watch me a moment ago,¡¯ she chided.

    Bringing his head slowly up from the floor, he saw that the woman now stood barely three feet away. Using a small towel, she absently dabbed it across her neck and chest, brazenly returning his gaze.

    He saw now the many scars covering her body; thin white welts that crisscrossed her chest, abdomen and thighs. A cold realisation made his stomach suddenly squirm. Looking up into her eyes he saw the face of the young woman who had so nearly ended his life, the woman Lord Galen had called his daughter, Leander.

    The long, white scar that trailed across half of her face tipped onto her collar bone, as though a brush of white paint had been drawn lightly across her skin. Her hair lay long and slick behind her, removed now of its elaborate braids. She stood defiantly before him like a statue carved of gleaming wood, her smouldering black eyes burning with unveiled contempt.

    ¡®No, of course not! I mean¡­¡¯ James spluttered, trying to meet her intense glare and somehow wilting in the process. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean to disturb you, that¡¯s all!¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve grown used to the discomfort my appearance gives others,¡¯ she continued, ¡®you need not worry about sparing my feelings.¡¯ Her voice was cold and acerbic, her graceful body tautened as though ready to fight.

    ¡®It¡¯s just that¡­ where I¡¯m from, men and women don¡¯t bathe together.¡¯ James replied, attempting to meet her eyes despite the disconcerting nakedness of her beautiful, scarred body.

    Leander bared her teeth as though James had further insulted her.

    ¡®Indeed, I¡¯m sure barbarian males cannot bathe with their women folk without first molesting them. But you are upon the plain no longer. There are rules that apply to the bathing chamber. I suggest that you ask your nurse to avail you of them.¡¯

    As though she had dismissed James with this last remark, Leander proceeded to wipe the rest of the water from her body, periodically wringing the small towel into a grated gutter at the base of the wall. Her intimate movements were laid bare before James¡¯ eyes, but despite his discomfort, he found himself unable to look away.

    Finally she tied the towel around her neck, and turned suddenly to confront him.

    ¡®Your first lesson in drying, I hope you were watching closely enough.¡¯

    James blushed deeply as the young woman stormed past him to where a robe of white silk hung from a branch of a tree. Wrapping it quickly about her body, she swept from the bathhouse and out of sight.

 7 - Bathing

    With no other means of punctuating the time he spent within the house, James took to carving shallow notches into the foot of his pallet bed. As each new morning dawned, he would take his thumbnail and score another day into the soft wood like a crude counterpoint to the beautiful carvings covering his four walls.

    Despite what he had been told, it was now obvious that his status as guest allowed him only limited access to what appeared to be an extensive building. His prison walls had expanded but only as far as the bathhouse and the gardens surrounding the great tree. As the days passed he divided his time between the three spaces like a lonely prisoner, followed as ever by his silent companion, Torrinth.

    At the beginning, he had still clung to the remote hope that the carved room would be some kind of portal back to his own reality. And for days he had stubbornly remained there, gazing at the carved walls as though the shifting patterns might provide some miraculous exit from his prison. But as the days drew on, he spent less and less time there, drawn ever more to the beauty and serenity of the gardens. There he would sit for hours on end, watching the countless branches of the giant tree whisper against the sky.

    The one place he avoided was the bathhouse. Following his embarrassing encounter with Leander, he hadn¡¯t stepped foot inside the chamber since. In the end, it was Bettiny who eventually changed his mind on the matter, one day all but dragging him to the door, dismissing his protestations like a strict matron chastising a petulant child.

    ¡®I understand that barbarians seldom bathe more than once each turn,¡¯ she had admonished, ¡®but whilst you are with us a far more civilised regimen will be adhered to!¡¯

    The bathhouse was mercifully empty when they arrived that afternoon, the air filled with the musty aroma of damp wood. The water sat heavily within the large pool, its still surface reflecting the swaying branches above like a great mirror. For a long time, they stood together on the wooden decking as Bettiny patiently explained the complicated etiquette of bathing.

    Upon entering the bathhouse, it was necessary to adopt an attitude she described as ¡°unseeing¡±. Until the moment a bather was submerged beneath the surface of the pool, they were to be considered as not existing at all.

    James blushed as she outlined the importance of this most cardinal rule, recalling just how thoroughly he had broken it only days before; from what Bettiny implied, his scrutiny of Leander¡¯s nakedness had been tantamount to physical abuse. Rallying somewhat from the memory of this embarrassing encounter, he asked how such a rule could be faithfully adhered to. Was it not impossible to ignore naked flesh seen in plain sight? Bettiny met the query with a firm set to her jaw, shaking her head as though he hadn¡¯t understood a word she had said.

    ¡®There is a marked difference between the eye that sees and the eye that observes. Upon entering this space, you must distinguish between the two,¡¯ she said, her eyes narrowed. ¡®When you enter your bed, you do not scrutinise its form. When you break bread, you do not perceive it with any great import before it is placed within your mouth. The naked form can be perceived in such ways if the eye of the beholder wishes it so.¡¯

    Bettiny regarded him with her head now tilted as though gauging his capacity to follow her instructions.

    ¡®Though, perhaps until such time you can forget your barbaric tendencies, it would be better merely to avert your eyes.¡¯

    Suitably put in his place, the young woman moved on to a yet more curious requirement. Before so much as a toe could be dipped into the pool, a symbolic gesture of introduction had to be performed. This involved taking a shallow wooden pail and dipping it into the water before splashing it across the bather¡¯s body. She described the gesture as a means of allowing the pool to ¡°know¡± who was wishing to join with it; for bathing was not merely a matter of cleansing the body, but an important interface between the forest and its inhabitants. From what James understood, the pool was actually part of a network of natural springs that could be found throughout the forest, and Lord Galen had built ¨C or rather grown ¨C the house around one such wellspring.

    Bettiny frowned when he had mentioned the word ¡°soap¡± as though she did not understand it, replying instead that the waters alone were enough to cleanse the body of its accumulated detritus.

    After finishing her long dialogue, Bettiny nodded curtly to Torrinth. The old man seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he nodded once in return and reluctantly left the chamber, closing the door quietly behind him.

    When James glanced back at Bettiny, he was horrified to discover that she was preparing to remove her silk robes.

    ¡®Wait!¡¯ James said, reaching for her arm. ¡®We¡¯re going to bathe now? Together?¡¯

    ¡®Of course,¡¯ she replied. ¡®It is better that you learn to forget the ways of your people if you are to live amongst us.¡¯

    ¡®But I don¡¯t want to live among you!¡¯ he snapped.

    ¡®Well, perhaps you should have considered that before you dropped from the sky and into our forest,¡¯ she replied with a wry smile.

    With one deft movement, Bettiny untied the elaborate knot from around her waist and promptly slipped the silk robe from her shoulders. The nurse¡¯s eyes narrowed in irritation as James hurriedly covered his eyes, his face burning with embarrassment.

    ¡®You will need to be swifter than that in future,¡¯ Bettiny admonished playfully. ¡®Other women will not be so tolerant of your sluggish reactions.¡¯

    James blushed further as he heard the bucket dip into the pool, followed by the splash of water falling across her body. There was the sound of her wet feet padding across the chamber and then the quiet ripple of water as she crept beneath the pool¡¯s surface.

    ¡®It is now safe for you to open your eyes,¡¯ she called from somewhere below.

    James slowly peeled his fingers from his eyes and found Bettiny sitting submerged against the side of the pool, only her head visible above its glittering surface.

    ¡®Your turn,¡¯ she said, smiling as she closed her eyes in contentment.

    James glanced nervously between the closed door and Bettiny¡¯s closed eyes, before gingerly untying his own robes. The silk whispered across his body before pooling at his feet like molten silver. A gentle breeze shifted the leaves above him, tracing its delicate fingers across his exposed skin.

    ¡®What about my bandage?¡¯ he asked uncertainly.

    ¡®Please remove it,¡¯ she replied. ¡®Nothing but the body of the bather may touch the waters of the pool.¡¯

    The bandage came away easily, and he was surprised to find that the wound had not leaked into its material; the puncture now greatly darkened and dry to the touch.

    Casting one last suspicious glance towards Bettiny, he cautiously approached the edge of the pool. Using the wooden pail, he dipped it into the slick water before pouring it across his kneeling body. The water was like ice against his skin, and he drew in a sharp breath.

    ¡®It¡¯s too damn cold!¡¯ he spluttered.

    ¡®The water behaves differently when it is removed from the pool,¡¯ Bettiny replied. ¡®You will find the pool¡¯s temperature more agreeable once you are submerged within it.¡¯

    Glancing doubtfully at Bettiny, he placed his foot upon the wooden stair and started to descend. The same iciness bit into his skin and he drew in another short breath. But just as he was beginning to doubt her words, a curious warmth began to sweep across his body. Emboldened by this welcome change, he dropped from the stair and sank feet-first beneath the surface.

    With a spluttering yelp of alarm, he promptly resurfaced, his hands clutching for the edge of the decking. Bettiny¡¯s eyes snapped open in shock.

    ¡®What the hell¡¯s going on down there?¡¯ James yelled, the oily water lapping his face.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The floor of the pool had felt like a squirming mass of tentacles trying to wrap around his legs.

    ¡®It is merely the under-growth, it is what keeps the waters of the pool vital,¡¯ Bettiny replied with a relieved smile. ¡®It is perfectly harmless.¡¯

    Frowning doubtfully at the young woman, he saw her smile widen before she broke into a chuckle, the sound of it like music playing across the glittering surface of water.

    ¡®What¡¯s so funny?¡¯ James snapped, tentatively inching his way around the side of the pool to where a submerged ledge ran along its edge.

    Sitting so that his knees were against his chest, he looked across at the nurse who continued to laugh openly, a wet hand covering her mouth as though to hide it from view.

    ¡®Well?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, it is just that I have never seen such a hairy man!¡¯ she said, chuckling behind her hand.

    James grimaced, and cast an accusatory glance in her direction. ¡®I don¡¯t believe it! You were watching me undress! I thought you said that was forbidden!¡¯

    ¡®It is forbidden for men to watch the women. But no such rule forbids us from glancing at our men folk. How else is a woman to choose a suitable mate if she cannot know what lies beneath his garments?¡¯ Bettiny laughed again, her hand once more hiding her open mouth.

    Shaking his head in disbelief, James reclined against the pool¡¯s edge and tried to get comfortable. It was curious how the young woman had changed towards him over the past few days. Her once petrified reaction to his presence had dissolved to the point where she even felt able to openly tease him. He hoped that the same reaction might be engendered in the other people he came across in this strange place. Although, the thought that Leander would somehow learn to smile in his presence was probably hoping for too much.

    ¡®Well, before you start planning our wedding,¡¯ he replied, closing his eyes against the soothing flow of water caressing his body. ¡®You should know that I prefer my women to be just as hairy as me¡­ hairier if possible!¡¯

    ¡®Your women folk have hair upon their chests?¡¯ Bettiny said incredulously.

    ¡®Oh yes, hair all over,¡¯ he grinned.

    Bettiny¡¯s sweet laughter echoed around the chamber, and for the first time, a smile without cynicism or contempt was brought to his own lips. He closed his eyes and soon a comfortable silence descended between them. The light behind his closed lids gradually darkened as the soft creaking of branches soothed from above. Lulled by the silken embrace of the calming water, it wasn¡¯t long before he drifted off to sleep.

    ***

    Slowly, he felt himself sink beneath the water. The delicate line which severed water from air slipped past his chin and over his eyes, caressing the top of his shaved head before passing out of reach. In a moment of panic James thought he would drown, but the water seemed to be weightless, passing down into his lungs like air.

    The light began to fade as darkness closed in around him. He felt another stirring of fear as he plunged ever deeper, but as he stared down between his feet, he noticed a pool of golden light far below. The light was feeble and faltering, but its dull, treacle glow was enough to discern the stone walls now sliding past his sinking body. With fascination, he watched as the walls were replaced by shelves, filled with books and bottles and other strange objects half-seen in the gloom.

    He realised that he should have been afraid or at least confused by what was happening, but instead he felt strangely detached and calm. It was merely a dream after all¡­ a dream within a dream.

    No sooner than he had made this realisation did the movement around him cease. He flinched as his bare feet touched upon cold stone. His skin felt wet, but any sense that he was still submerged in water had vanished. There was a chill in the air and the baleful drone of wind scurrying between ancient walls.

    The light which filled the bottom of the circular room issued from a large candle sitting upon a scarred workbench. A haphazard pile of broken books littered its top, a curious metal triangle hovering in the air above them. As strange and unsettling as this place undoubtedly was, he had the nagging feeling that he had been here before.

    Slowly, he turned on the spot, his eyes tracing the endless rows of bookshelves filled with heavy leather-bound tomes. The hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle as a creeping dread rose from the pit of his stomach.

    It was no longer just a feeling. He had been here before¡­

    With his back to the candle, he beheld a corner of the room surrounded in preternatural darkness. A figure sat slumped upon a crude wooden chair, the outline of his body indistinct like a charcoal drawing smeared by a careless hand.

    James stood completely still, pinned by the hidden stare of the figure. The ragged sound of breathing issued out of the darkness; the sound of lungs no longer adequate to the task of breathing.

    ¡®There is little time,¡¯ a feeble old voice croaked. ¡®You travelled further than I intended, further than I feared.

    A wheezing cough echoed out of the darkness as the figure drew another painful breath.

    ¡®You forget me, child!¡¯ the voice cried in dismay.

    ¡®I feared it might be so, but no matter. I succeeded at least. You are with us now.¡¯

    James felt the man smile, but whether from malice or kindness, he could not tell.

    ¡®Who are you?¡¯ James asked tentatively.

    But the man appeared not to hear.

    ¡®There is little time, you must find me soon or I shall no longer be here to aid you.¡¯

    The man drew a deep, rattling breath, followed by a wracking cough. Beyond the walls, the howling gale rose in pitch making the ancient stone groan under its weight.

    With dawning comprehension, James realised that the insubstantial figure slumped before him was the very one who had brought him into this fantasy.

    ¡®Where are you?¡¯ James shouted desperately.

    Again, the hidden figure appeared to ignore him.

    ¡®I risk much with the sending of such a message, but it is the last chance I have to gain your trust. I cannot seek you out, so you must seek me. I reside within the¡­¡¯

    The howling gale battered the walls, rendering his words incoherent.

    ¡®Where?¡¯ James shouted. ¡®I can¡¯t hear you!¡¯

    The figure coughed violently, half crippling him where he sat. The ragged outline of his body grew insubstantial as the howling gale pitched louder.

    ¡®You must seek out¡­¡¯ again the man coughed, his shade-like body dissolving further.

    ¡®Seek out what?¡¯ James yelled into the gathering tumult. ¡®What damn it?¡¯

    The noise of the storm was now deafening and James clasped his hands to his ears to protect them from the palpitating air. The stone floor beneath his feet vibrated savagely as though the building was about to be shaken to rubble.

    The seated shadow hunched forward, two wizened hands clutching the gnarled armrests like frenzied bones. A shrill scream was torn from his reluctant lips, shattering glass bottles high above their heads. When his words finally came, they bypassed James¡¯ tortured ears and shuddered directly into his skull.

    ¡®Seek out the last¡­ magician!¡¯

    A thunderclap detonated in the shimmering air between them and with a blinding flash of light, James was thrown into the air.

    The stone walls evaporated as his head emerged from the slick water of the pool. His stomach heaved, sending rivulets of ice-cold water cascading from his mouth and nose. His lungs drew in air, sending a hollow gasp echoing around the bathing chamber.

    James gazed about him in confusion, his mind still reeling from the assault of the dream. The sky beyond the languid shifting of branches was now thick with stars, the pool a featureless void of black. Bettiny was no longer at his side and he was alone, utterly alone.

    ***

    The next morning, James sat beside Bettiny in the garden eating a meal of berries and unleavened bread. The details of the strange dream he had experienced the night before still played over and over in his mind. Already, the tenuous details of the dream were beginning to fade, but the desperate urgency of the message was seared upon his mind like fire.

    One of the curious transparent birds materialised on Bettiny¡¯s knee, and she bent to offer it a berry from her bowl. The bird turned its black eye towards James, as though regarding him with suspicion, before plucking the berry from her cupped hand. With a blur of its insubstantial wings, the bird arced across the garden before it was lost amidst the green eaves of the house.

    Bettiny¡¯s braided hair shifted in the breeze, momentarily brushing against his shoulder. The warm smile she had offered him in greeting had since transformed itself into an uncertain frown.

    ¡®Jame, is something troubling you?¡¯ she asked, placing one of the berries delicately between her lips. ¡®You do not seem yourself this morning.¡¯

    James shifted uneasily upon the stone seat.

    ¡®I had a strange dream¡­ after I fell asleep in the bath last night,¡¯ he replied, holding his untouched meal between his hands.

    ¡®I am sorry that I left you alone within the bathing chamber, it is not customary to disturb those who slumber within the pool,¡¯ Bettiny said, carefully placing her bowl upon the ground.

    With her hands now resting on her lap, she regarded him steadily.

    ¡®What was so strange about your dream?¡¯

    James hesitated, suddenly cautious about divulging what he had experienced. Instead, he asked the one question that had been troubling him ever since.

    ¡®Are there magicians in this world of yours?¡¯

    His question sounded absurd to his own ears, and he blushed slightly from his foolishness. But when her answer finally came, any trace of embarrassment quickly evaporated.

    ¡®No longer do such people exist within the land,¡¯ Bettiny said, her posture now rigid upon the seat. ¡®They are as dust and bone, a fragile memory of a time long since passed.¡¯

    Casting his gaze about the walls of the house, James recalled the impossible words that Bettiny had once spoken; that the very house within which they all dwelt had been grown by Lord Galen.

    ¡®Is Lord Galen not a magician then?¡¯ he asked doubtfully.

    Bettiny managed a weak smile and slowly shook her head.

    ¡®Perhaps to a man of the plains the art of melding might be considered the work of a magician, but it is nothing alike.¡¯

    ¡®It was just a dream then,¡¯ James said hollowly.

    ¡®One does not dream within the wellspring,¡¯ Bettiny said ominously.

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ he replied. ¡®If you sleep, you dream.¡¯

    Bettiny shook her head curtly.

    ¡®It is not so within the wellspring. Only the seers of Tamblin are said to possess the power of communion, only they are able to see what the forest sees.¡¯

    James shifted uncomfortably on the stone seat. He was not hungry, but he hurriedly took a bite of the bread still clasped in his hand.

    ¡®It was only a dream,¡¯ he mumbled.

    Bettiny nodded her head, but her frown remained.

    As the sounds of birdsong and the scratching of playful squirrels came back to his senses, James felt the awkward silence settle between them like a wall of stone.

    A single word now repeated itself over and over again inside his head.

    He was glad Bettiny could not hear it.

    For the word was magician.

 8 - Lord Galens Return

    It was after twelve notches had been scored into the soft wood of his bed that everything changed. He felt it in the air as he first awoke, his wandering eye glimpsing shades of malevolence in the carved walls where there had previously been none. It was there still as he bathed, the shifting canopy of leaves seeming to whisper words of warning. Even the peaceful serenity of the gardens felt blighted, the air burdened as though before an approaching storm. But the air itself was unchanged. It still carried the sweet fragrances of the garden, the exotic trilling of birds beyond its walls. The sky was a clear powder-blue and gave no hint that it meant any violence.

    No, this was something altogether different.

    A feeling deep inside his gut told him that forces beyond his control were beginning to act. Like a great hand pulling the strings of a thousand latent threads, he felt the relative calm about to break.

    He assumed he was not alone in this sensing, for when he ate with Bettiny that afternoon she could barely bring herself to meet his gaze. For the first time, her conversation felt forced, as though she were attempting to avoid a topic far less pleasant.

    His ever-present shadow, Torrinth, now clung rigidly to his every movement; his former passivity transformed into a hunter stalking its prey. On more than one occasion that morning, James had turned to find the old warrior watching him intently; his shrewd eyes fixed upon his own where Bettiny¡¯s had so feared to rest.

    The huge sun was setting beyond the walls of the house when the doors to the courtyard were suddenly thrown aside. James flinched as three dark figures swept into the courtyard. They strode through the livid green of the garden towards them, passing not along the meandering path but directly through the ornamental shrubs which shook at their passing. James staggered to his feet and looked to the old man, who merely folded his hands at his waist. He recognised the three men as those who had presided over his interrogation two weeks before, but they were now greatly changed. Their dark armour was covered in grime, and in places marked with jagged cracks like egg shell beaten with the back of a spoon. Their pale faces were likewise travel worn; a dull patina of dust marring their elegant features.

    He braced himself to be once more man-handled by rough hands but as they neared, two of the three ignored him completely, making instead for the great tree which they promptly ascended. The third man came to a halt beside them; the tall soldier who had stood at Lord Galen¡¯s side during his interrogation. The man¡¯s previous intimation of violence lingered within his rigid posture, but it was a curious uncertainty that now held sway upon him.

    ¡®We are returned,¡¯ he said, his voice strained. ¡®Lord Galen will meet with you shortly. You are to ascend to the observation platform at once.¡¯

    Nodding belated greetings to Torrinth, the man promptly followed his companions, bounding between the protruding stairs into the heights above.

    James had little time to consider what was happening before Torrinth¡¯s hand was pressed to his back, propelling him on towards the waiting tree. Drawing nearer, he watched the staircase dwindle into the sky above them. The stairs looked precarious and fragile, but as reluctant as he was to follow in the other man¡¯s footsteps, the old man pushed him forcefully on.

    James began to climb. His legs felt ungainly beneath him, but somehow his feet found purchase upon each of the narrow steps as they came. Pressing his body to the vast trunk at his side, he tried to avoid the temptation to glance at the vertiginous drop that grew with each step. But as petrified as he was, he couldn¡¯t resist stealing a glance at the view now expanding before them.

    The house was far larger than he had imagined. The pitched roofs of the building wove between the trees, occasionally encircling gardens hidden away within cloistered courtyards. Beyond the outer walls were what appeared to be vast nurseries; clearings filled with row upon row of carefully tended saplings. In the failing light, he saw dark forms walking the rows; though if they were gardeners as he suspected, they carried no discernable tools.

    Distracted by the sight, his foot stumbled on the next step and with a yelp he pitched to the side. The view of the house and its expansive grounds yawed to one side and he screamed in alarm. But just as he was about to topple from the heights, a strong hand closed upon his shoulder and yanked him back against the trunk. With his heart hammering in his chest, he sank to the stair and angrily shook his head at the old man.

    ¡®I can¡¯t do it!¡¯ he shouted into the quickening breeze. ¡®I just can¡¯t climb any further!¡¯

    Torrinth¡¯s greying hair fluttered about his head, momentarily hiding his gaunt face. But when the grey curtain finally parted, he replied with typical brevity, shaking his head just once. With his hand still painfully attached to James¡¯ shoulder, the old man pushed him on.

    James closed his eyes and gulped air, his clumsy feet labouring across steps already tread upon by his groping hands. All the while, the seething rattle of leaves bombarded his senses making him deaf as well as blind to the climb.

    It was a long time before he finally felt a flat surface settle beneath his hands, but the promise of solidity made him scramble eagerly forward. A decorative arch loomed at the end of the platform and he gratefully pitched himself inside it like a mouse bolting for its hole.

    The three men who had ascended before them were nowhere to be seen, but James could hear quiet conversation from behind a closed door. In the centre of the room a small fire quietly flickered, enclosed within a curious ring of dark shapes, like the burnt husks of banana skins. The room was otherwise bare, except for four buff-coloured mats placed equidistantly about the fire. A large oval window in the far wall filled the room with the fading light of the setting sun.

    Panting from the exertion of the climb, James looked up at the impassive face of Torrinth. Despite the sinister orders given to the old man by Lord Galen, James had come to think of him as something close to a friend; albeit a friend who never spoke, and never once offered as much as a flicker of emotion to the various one-sided conversations he had attempted over the past week. Still, his presence calmed him, like a piece of familiar furniture placed within a strange room.

    A shadow passed across the doorway, and then Lord Galen was standing before him. Like the other men, he bore evidence of a hurried and troubled journey. A dark splatter of what looked like dried blood decorated him from shoulder to waist like a ghoulish sash. Galen¡¯s eyes were intense, almost fevered, as he looked down upon him sprawled upon the floor. Even so, he managed a thin smile and extended his hand.

    Cautiously, James reached up and let the other man lift him back to his feet. Galen nodded once to Torrinth, and the old man promptly departed into the adjoining room.

    ¡®Please, be seated,¡¯ Galen said, motioning towards one of the mats beside the fire.

    James shuffled across the small room before awkwardly settling himself upon the floor, choosing the mat that lay furthest from the other man. Lord Galen¡¯s smile had already left his face as he too descended to the floor beside the flickering flames.

    In the silence that followed, James tried to meet the other man¡¯s gaze as the fire slowly crackled between them; the great tree creaking and groaning beyond the thin walls.

    ¡®We do not have long,¡¯ Galen said suddenly, causing James to tense beneath his silk robes. ¡®I must ask of you some questions before we may proceed any further.¡¯

    His voice was measured and graceful, like the last time they had spoken, but an unnerving uncertainty had since crept into his features. James shifted uneasily upon the woven mat, his heart pulsing at his temples.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡®I have asked this question before, but I must now ask it again,¡¯ Galen said, his eyes aflame from the setting sun. ¡®How was it that you came to our land?¡¯

    As apprehensive as he was, Galen¡¯s question angered him.

    ¡®I¡¯ve told you everything I know!¡¯

    Galen continued to stare at him from across the fire, his expression demanding he continue.

    ¡®All I remember is the dream of flying! I was flying through the clouds and then I came down into the forest. Your daughter shot me with an arrow and now here I am in your company. You know the story, it hasn¡¯t changed!¡¯

    ¡®Were you aided in any way by another? Or was it entirely your own will that brought you to our world?

    ¡®Think carefully Jame, for the answers you give now will bear heavily upon how we proceed from this room,¡¯ Galen said, his long fingers templed together above his lap.

    As though bidden by the Lord¡¯s question, the memory of the dream he had experienced in the bathhouse splintered back into his mind. It had only been three days ago, but already its fragile grasp on his memory seemed to be slipping. He remembered the voice, as fragile as a moth¡¯s wing, as shrill as a wailing banshee. The final word he had screamed amidst the storm made him shiver now with its implications.

    Magician¡­

    Despite his recollection, a feeling deep within his gut told him that to speak of the dream would be folly. Galen¡¯s newfound uncertainty spoke of unfounded fears and drastic actions. Inwardly, he winced, hoping that Bettiny would not have divulged the ambiguous questions he had asked of her.

    Finally, after an awkward pause, James meekly muttered his reply.

    ¡®I was alone.¡¯

    Galen sighed and closed his eyes as though suddenly exhausted.

    ¡®Then, what do you know of the Kloven? The sun-worshippers of the Klovelli Mountains?¡¯

    ¡®Is that supposed to be a joke?¡¯ James said with an incredulous smile.

    Galen regarded him gravely, and then spoke a word as though it were his last hopeless attempt at preventing catastrophe.

    ¡®Kloven-Perrin.¡¯

    James¡¯ face went slack.

    Perrin.

    ¡®You know the name!¡¯ Galen replied in a hushed whisper.

    The word was familiar to him because it had been inside his head when he awoke in the waiting room of the hospital. At the time, he had dismissed the dream as a product of his over-stressed mind. But now, he realised with dismay that it had likely signalled the beginning of this horrific hallucination he was now forced to live through.

    ¡®It¡¯s the name of the little boy,¡¯ James muttered.

    Galen continued to regard him from across the fire, but his eyes had narrowed in confusion.

    ¡®Kloven-Perrin,¡¯ Galen continued, ¡®is the name of an old monk, who, for the past ten turns, has lived under the protection of my brother.¡¯

    He paused, for the first time smiling as he had the first time they had met.

    ¡®And other than yourself, he is the only other man not born of the Gelding to ever speak our language. This, I feel, cannot be mere coincidence.¡¯

    Galen¡¯s body seemed to relax somewhat, as though unsteady scales had at last found balance. He settled more comfortably where he sat, his smooth hands seeking one another within the sleeves of his dirty robes.

    ¡®These past days, I have sought council with my brother, Lord Balen, Custodian of the Forest Citadel. The Citadel is the last of the great forest strongholds, situated on an island at the centre of Lake Kellan. It is a place many leagues from here, and has of late become a most perilous journey.¡¯

    He paused, glancing down at his soiled robes as though in explanation of his dishevelled appearance.

    ¡®You have been kept in the dark about the events unfolding within our land for good reason. But, I may say this much to you now¡­ we are living through the most desperate of times.

    Galen¡¯s stare hardened, his voice grave with foreboding.

    ¡®A great evil has come into being, and even now prepares to engulf the land like an ill tide. Were it just the threat of arms ranged against us, the situation might not have been as bleak. But alas, I no longer believe that to be the case. Therefore, your arrival, not to mention the manner it took, was a matter of great concern for us.¡¯

    The lord¡¯s fevered eyes flicked to the window above James¡¯ head.

    ¡®My brother believes a war approaches, but I believe it is something much worse. For, what is a war that cannot be fought?¡¯

    Again, the word magician came unbidden into James¡¯ mind, causing him to squirm uncomfortably beneath his robes. Lord Galen¡¯s words always seemed to trace the outlines of some larger truth, leaving gaping holes to be filled by despair and doubt. Could he have been brought to the land by its enemy? Was the message he had received within the oily waters of the bathing pool intended to draw him back to this great evil?

    As though in recognition of these dire possibilities, Lord Galen¡¯s expression suddenly hardened. His jaw set firmly, and with a resigned sigh he continued.

    ¡®My brother¡¯s advice was that you should be executed at once.¡¯

    James¡¯ body stiffened, and he scuttled backwards until the wall thudded into his back. If Galen noticed his reaction, he did not show it, his eyes now firmly fixed upon the fire before him.

    ¡®What I love about my brother is his ability to cut through the noise of each problem, to arrive at what is vital at its core. My own mind has always craved to exist somewhere between, and therein often lies my failing.¡¯

    ¡®No, please, don¡¯t! Spare me!¡¯ James begged, squirming against the wall as though attempting to pass through it.

    Only now registering his distress, Galen looked up in alarm, his hand quickly raised in placation.

    ¡®Jame, you have nothing to fear from me,¡¯ he said, his open palm flickering with the light of the fire. ¡®I have decided to spare your life.¡¯

    When Galen next spoke, he looked suddenly pained, as though a great weight had just climbed upon his shoulders.

    ¡®Sometimes it is important to deal in absolutes. Sometimes the situation demands it. But, on this one occasion I had to disagree with my brother. The disagreement was unpleasant, and sadly we did not part on the best of terms.¡¯

    Galen stared back at him, the light of the fire hardening his gaze like burning brands.

    ¡®However, I hold true to my conviction that the correct course of action does indeed lie ¡°somewhere between¡±. I can no longer doubt that you are, as you say, of another world. The only question that remains to be answered is whether the powers at your disposal are for good, or for ill?

    ¡®This is madness!¡¯ James shouted. ¡®Who the hell do you think I am? After everything my mind has done to create all this and trap me within it, I¡¯ve been left as useless and pathetic as I ever was in my own world. What can you possibly see of any worth in me?¡¯

    Lord Galen seemed to ponder the question for a moment before directing his eyes back to the fire.

    ¡®I admit that what I see before me is unclear at this moment. But the evidence of one¡¯s eyes cannot be all that is set within the balance. Every fibre of my being tells me that you are important to the outcome of the coming struggle. For once, I must have the strength and faith to follow my convictions.¡¯

    Galen turned his eyes from the fire, but despite his resolute words his face was marred by the previous blight of uncertainty.

    ¡®You must go forth this night and set out for the Forest Citadel. There you will meet with Kloven-Perrin, this monk of whom I spoke. It is my belief that he is the key to unlocking the mystery of your coming here.¡¯

    ¡®But I want to stay here!¡¯ James protested, cowering against the wall.

    ¡®So, you wish to fight for us after all?¡¯ he said, smiling grimly.

    ¡®No, of course not! I just want to remain here and be safe!¡¯

    Lord Galen now stood tall, the setting sun igniting his robes in crimson, the dark stains like ragged wounds across its surface.

    ¡®You will find no safety within the walls of Galendar. Not anymore.¡¯

    Raising his hand, he pointed straight ahead.

    ¡®They were sighted this afternoon, descending out of the mountains. Before the great crescent moon reaches its zenith, they will be upon this house.¡¯

    Remembering the window at his back, he slowly turned, pulling himself to its sill. The view beyond the mottled glass took his breath away. He reeled for a moment, caught between sickening vertigo and incredulous awe at the vastness of the space beyond the small room. The row of crooked mountains he had first spied from the window of Galen¡¯s house rose immense and black against the darkening sky, like the charred remains of a giant ribcage; the monstrous sun once more melting amongst its distant peaks.

    But these were sights that no longer troubled him, for something much worse was making its way towards them. Upon the wide plain, pinned between the mountains and the stunted trees at the edge of the forest, a formless black mass was inching its way towards them like a bloated leech crawling stubbornly across the bottom of a pond.

    ¡®There are more than three hundred warriors marching across the plain,¡¯ Galen said, his voice sounding as though from far away, ¡®and, I believe that they are coming for you, Jame.¡¯

    ¡®This is impossible! Impossible!¡¯ James wailed, returning his gaze to the creeping black stain. His eyes lost their focus, and he watched instead the dull red reflection of his own face in the mottled glass. His hair still lay close to his head, his jaw darkening with two weeks growth of beard. In the putrid light of the dying sun, a red skull seemed to sneer back at him.

    ¡®Who are they?¡¯ he pleaded. ¡®What do they want with me?¡¯

    ¡®Explanations will have to wait, we have wasted time enough. All you need know for now is that the timing of their arrival is no coincidence. Somehow, the enemy has learnt of your presence within my home.¡¯

    There was the sound of movement from behind, and when James returned his gaze across the fire, a number of dark figures had assembled behind the robed lord. They seemed to all be watching him, like some grotesque line of actors preparing to take a final bow before an empty theatre. He noticed amongst them the gaunt form of Torrinth, and the familiar pale face of Leander scowling from out of the shadows.

    ¡®When do we leave?¡¯ James heard himself mutter, returning his gaze to the window.

    With sinking inevitability, he heard Galen¡¯s voice drift across the fire like an affirmation of his impending doom.

    ¡®At once.¡¯

 9 - Flight from Galendar

    The humiliation of descending the tree across Torrinth¡¯s back was tempered somewhat by the luxury of closing his eyes to the obscene drop beneath. Even so, the sight that replayed itself across his closed eyes was debatably worse; the dark smudge slowly crawling its way across the valley¡­ towards him! A tight ball of panic was working its way loose from his innards, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming aloud.

    When at last Torrinth¡¯s rigid frame came to a halt, the familiar scent of the garden was thick upon the air. James opened his eyes and thankfully touched his bare feet back upon solid ground. His eyes were drawn to the fluttering white robs of a young woman waiting in the shadows. The white silk of Bettiny¡¯s robes reflected what little light remained so that she appeared almost to glow.

    As Lord Galen spoke hurriedly with those that had gathered around him, James stumbled forward, seeking out the familiar oasis of calm and security that seemed to radiate from his former nurse. Bettiny raised her head at his approach and for the first time that day looked him directly in the eye. Between her arms she held a bundle of dark material.

    ¡®These robes are for your travel. You must dress quickly,¡¯ she said, offering him the heavy garment.

    James took the material uncertainly between his hands and unfurled its dark length between them. After struggling with the copious material for a moment, Bettiny¡¯s delicate hands came forward to help, guiding his trembling hands into the voluminous tunnels of fabric. When the heavy material finally settled across his shoulders, it seemed to add to the weight of expectation Lord Galen had so recently draped upon him.

    ¡®You will need these also,¡¯ she said, stooping to where two scraps of material lay pooled upon the grass.

    With grim, mechanical movements, he pushed his bare feet into the soft material, as Bettiny drew upon lengths of cord; drawing the material around his feet and ankles like a mother tying a child¡¯s shoelaces.

    ¡®With these you will be able to walk for many leagues without discomfort. And, should you need to climb, they will provide you with sure footing.¡¯

    When Bettiny stood, she held a cloth bag between her hands.

    ¡®Finally, these are provisions for your journey. They will be the foods familiar to you now.¡¯

    Only now did James notice the deep sorrow radiating from the woman¡¯s glistening eyes. Bettiny blinked and two silver tears dropped into the darkness gathering between them.

    ¡®I have also packed your old clothing. I tried to wash the blood from the weave, but it could not be released. Nor could I repair the hole caused by the arrow. It is a material unfamiliar to me and resists the silk thread.¡¯

    ¡®Why are you crying?¡¯ James asked, taking the cloth sack between numb fingers.

    ¡®It is a sad day,¡¯ she replied quietly.

    ¡®You aren¡¯t coming with us, are you?¡¯

    ¡®My place is here, within the walls of Galendar. I will protect it, and my Lord, with my life,¡¯ she said, her wet eyes burning with an intensity he had never before seen.

    ¡®But,¡¯ James faltered, ¡®you¡¯re just a nurse.¡¯

    Despite her gentle sobbing, Bettiny chuckled, her pale face momentarily freed from the quiet anguish that had so recently possessed it.

    ¡®I am not merely a nurse,¡¯ she replied.

    And with that, she opened the side of her silk robe, exposing her long, slender leg and the black sword pressed so firmly to her hip.

    ¡®The people of the Gelding are warriors before anything else they might become.¡¯

    James took a step backwards in shock.

    ¡®Was that always there?¡¯ he asked in disbelief.

    Bettiny smiled.

    ¡®Perhaps you would have preferred it was Torrinth who nursed you back to health?¡¯ There was a flicker of her former playfulness, but then it was gone, like a flame snuffed between fingers.

    ¡®But I need you Bettiny!¡¯ James suddenly pleaded. ¡®No one else likes me here! How will I ever cope?¡¯

    Bettiny studied his face for a moment as though weighing the unknown capacities residing within.

    ¡®If your heart is true, they will come to see you as I have,¡¯ she said, nodding slightly as though to reassure herself.

    She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning suddenly to leave.

    ¡®Now you must go. Farewell Jame, I hope that the next time we meet it will be under more pleasant circumstances.¡¯

    And with these last words she walked away through the quiet emptiness of the garden and back into the house.

    James stood alone for a moment and realised the great shame burning inside him. The words he had spoken to her came back sounding pitiful and selfish to his ears. Bettiny was prepared to die in the defence of her home and all he had been worried about was himself.

    He moved forward, meaning to pursue her and give his apology, but Lord Galen¡¯s voice made him stop in his tracks.

    ¡®Come, Jame, there is little time.¡¯

    He stood for a moment on the threshold of indecision, looking at the space she had so recently occupied. But then, reluctantly, he turned, leaving the silent garden behind.

    ***

    James struggled to keep up as Lord Galen swept along the dark corridor. Here the many windows that lined the walls were un-shuttered, revealing glimpses of a dense forest bathed in purple twilight. Despite his growing unease, he was tempted to linger and peer into the alien world thriving beyond the walls, but this time it was Lord Galen¡¯s brisk pace that denied him.

    They emerged into another of the cloistered courtyards contained within the rambling walls of Galen¡¯s house. The enclosure was smaller than the last and conspicuously different, for it was built almost entirely of stone. The ground was covered with huge moss-covered flagstones and in the centre was what appeared to be a wide stone well. At the far end of the courtyard was the entrance to a narrow tunnel, barred by yet another incongruous structure; a formidable iron gate.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    As though in explanation of these curious additions to the organic structure of his house, Lord Galen swept his hand before them as they walked and muttered, ¡®Relics of the past.¡¯

    Standing before the dark opening of the tunnel was the group of dark figures James had briefly glimpsed in the watchtower. Hurriedly, Lord Galen now passed along their line, giving each of the strangers a name.

    ¡®You already know my daughter, Leander, and the blademaster of my house, Torrinth,¡¯ Galen said, his pale hand passing in the air between them. ¡®You have also met Kirrin, and his brothers, Tavin and Wellin.¡¯

    The three men, attired once more in clean suits of dark armour, stopped their quiet conversation and looked directly at him. Their eyes were narrowed and suspicious but they each nodded their welcome.

    ¡®They are the finest wayfarers of Galendar, and amongst the finest blades.¡¯

    Finally, he touched the shoulder of a woman James had yet to meet. She was perhaps of middle years, her face broad and framed by two thick tresses of ebony hair which lay across her chest like coiled rope.

    ¡®And finally, this is Fen. She is an excellent arrow-wane and the most gifted melder of my household.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s expression remained impassive, but of all the faces turned toward him, hers seemed the most capable of kindness.

    James squirmed under the weight of their collective stares and flinched when Lord Galen¡¯s hand finally came to rest upon his own shoulder.

    ¡®You have all heard of Jame and now you see him. Travel with all haste to Kellandria. If the forest allows, Galendar may yet be spared.¡¯

    Galen¡¯s hand lingered upon James¡¯ shoulder and gently he was guided back towards the centre of the courtyard, where the stone walls of the well protruded from the ground. With his hands braced upon the moss-covered stone, the tall man stared down into the black hole yawning beneath them. For a long time the man kept his silence. But when eventually he spoke, his voice sounded tired and heavy with regret.

    ¡®My people are honour-bound to me and will ensure that you reach my brother unharmed,¡¯ he said, frowning into the depths of the well. ¡®But, you must understand that they do not all share my belief that you are important to the coming war.¡¯

    James shook his head in denial, but the lord continued before he could voice his objection.

    ¡®My daughter, for one, does not trust you. Though, she has had enough reason during her short life to despise those that are enemies of our people.¡¯

    The troubled lord continued to stare into the well, as though uncomfortable with the sound of his own voice.

    ¡®It will be difficult for you to gain her trust, but gain it you must. Only together can we hope to rid the world of the evil that seeks to destroy us all.¡¯

    James¡¯ expression darkened as he realised his fate now depended on a woman who not only had tried to kill him but continued to detest and distrust him. However, it was another, far more unpleasant thought which made him anxiously grasp the sleeve of Lord Galen¡¯s robes.

    ¡®You told me that your brother advised that I should be executed,¡¯ James said shrilly. ¡®What¡¯s to stop him executing me the very moment we arrive?¡¯

    Galen¡¯s face was still lost in shadow, but the same unnerving uncertainty James had witnessed in the watchtower returned in the cadence of his reply.

    ¡®He will allow you to meet with Kloven-Perrin, this monk of whom I spoke. And, it is my belief that this meeting will reveal your purpose in all of this,¡¯ Galen said, waving a tired hand beyond the walls of the courtyard.

    ¡®And if he doesn¡¯t?¡¯ James said.

    Galen¡¯s body seemed to tense slightly within his pale robes but his words were unfaltering.

    ¡®I cannot believe that you are an agent of spite, nor can I believe that you pose any threat to our people. When my brother meets you, he will know the same truth.¡¯

    At last, he turned his gaze from the well and faced James squarely, placing a hand once more upon his shoulder. The contact seemed to fortify the other man¡¯s resolve, and mustering a tired smile, he said, ¡®Farewell Jame, it has been an honour to know you. Go now in peace, and if the forest allows, we shall meet again.

    ***

    The party emerged from the stone tunnel and into a shallow ravine, overshadowed on either side by the twisted forms of trees. High above, the thin crescent of the larger moon hung in the sky like a shard of glass. But if the green moon still existed in this fantasy, it was nowhere to be seen.

    Soon, there was the sound of splattering water and then they were climbing down amongst rounded boulders where a narrow stream trickled between. The air was fresh and carried the sounds of what might have been frogs chirping in the darkness. But the stillness of the evening was unsettling, for it gave no hint of the approaching horde of men, even now marching upon the house.

    James lost track of time as they passed out of the ravine and made their way ever deeper into the forest. The three brothers had long since disappeared from view, and now only the moonlit forms of the two women could be seen upon the trail; their restless eyes scanning the trees which crowded all around them. James stumbled along in their wake, followed as ever by the silent shadow of his guardian, Torrinth.

    After the two weeks spent confined to the house, it suddenly felt disconcerting to be delving deeper into the construct his mind was generating before him. As the twisted branches of the trees pressed upon them, he thought longingly of the carved room of his convalescence that with each passing moment slipped further and further out of his grasp.

    As the journey dragged on, he found himself speculating about where his true body now resided. Was he, at this very moment, under the knife of the surgeon? Was he lying comatose within a hospital bed, his brain damaged beyond repair? Or, most disturbing of all, was he living the final seconds of his life and all of this merely generated by the frantic firing of a billion dying brain cells?

    Lost within his own weary thoughts, James didn¡¯t notice the exposed tree roots laced across his path until his foot caught within them, sending him sprawling to the ground. The noise of his fall was loud in the silence of the forest and when he got back to his feet, the pale oval of Leander¡¯s face was scowling down at him.

    Turning to her companion, her soft words carried her contempt to his ears.

    ¡®A wild boar would travel more quietly.¡¯

    At that moment, the silence was broken by the tremendous roar of raised voices, and as one the four turned to look behind.

    To James, the sound was like the joyous cheer of a football crowd celebrating a long sought-after goal. But the voices of this loud chorus held no joy. These voices were harsh and bitter, and carried their cruelty upon the air like an open wound.

    ¡®Forest protect!¡¯ Fen exclaimed, her voice almost lost amidst the roar.

    ¡®Move on,¡¯ Leander said through tight lips. ¡®The enemy is upon Galendar, we can do nothing for them here.¡¯

    Torrinth¡¯s hand pressed into the small of James¡¯ back and he was jerked back into movement. Cowering within his heavy robes, he trudged on through the darkness, a cold sickness tracing the outline of every bone in his body. All the while, it was the serene face of his nurse that danced within his guilt-ridden mind. The thought that she now faced such a malevolent force made him want to cry. He tried repeatedly to tell himself that none of this really existed, that no one really remained in the house they had left behind. But another voice inside him, a loud and desperate voice, told him that murder would be committed before the night was through.

    Hours later, the shouts and screams had long since receded into the silence of the forest as the pale light of dawn crept into the starlit sky. From out of the gloom, two of the brothers suddenly reappeared and with a silent gesture led them from the overgrown path.

    They followed a slight incline and soon the trees began to thin as they emerged into a small clearing in the bottom of a shallow hollow. The ground was covered in a soft blanket of grass, a ring of gnarled trees circling the ridge that surrounded them like a dark crown.

    James dropped to the ground in exhaustion and watched as Fen un-shouldered a cloth sack. Shaking out a handful of the banana-shaped husks he had seen surrounding the fire inside the watchtower, she proceeded to arrange them into a rough circle upon the ground.

    The third brother, who appeared to be the youngest of the three men, emerged from the crown of trees carrying something in his arms. Crouching beside Fen, he promptly tumbled an armful of slender logs into the circle she had created, where they clattered together like dry bones. There was a sudden spark of light from a metal object in Fen¡¯s hand and then feeble flames were licking between the logs, bathing the hollow in flickering golden light.

    The last thing he saw before his heavy lids closed was Fen¡¯s pale face, watching him from across the dancing flames.

 10 - Willowing

    When James awoke, he found that a woven blanket had been draped across him. His mind floundered, suddenly disorientated, before he remembered where he was. The sky was brightening, but a scattering of stars remained dappled across its velvet canvas.

    ¡®Good morning.¡¯

    The unfamiliar voice made James jump and he scrambled beneath the blanket.

    The youngest of the three brothers smiled down at him from where he crouched upon his haunches. The man¡¯s sharp eyes were a deep emerald green, his face narrow to the point of being gaunt. His long hair fell about his shoulders, gently shifting in the breeze.

    ¡®I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you,¡¯ he said, peering down at him as though a rare insect had briefly alighted upon a leaf.

    ¡®Leander said that I should wake you.¡¯

    The man¡¯s wide smile remained, but he raised an uncertain eyebrow.

    ¡®Can it be true that you speak Gelding? Do you even know what I am saying?¡¯

    James groaned and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

    ¡®No, I don¡¯t speak Gelding. I speak English, the same as you,¡¯ he sighed in irritation.

    ¡®Unbelievable! And you speak it so well!¡¯ the other man chuckled, regarding him with renewed wonder. ¡®Tell me¡­ is it also true that you came here within a falling star?¡¯

    James shook his head miserably.

    ¡®If I were you, I¡¯d ask Leander for the truth of that. I have trouble believing it myself,¡¯ he muttered, squinting up at the smiling man.

    ¡®She will not talk about it,¡¯ the boy replied with obvious disappointment. After a moment, a thought suddenly occurred to him which hardened his expression. ¡®Leander told me that I should get you to eat something before we resume our journey.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not hungry,¡¯ James replied woodenly.

    ¡®Before the sun has set upon this day we must travel many leagues. It is important that you do not weaken.¡¯

    ¡®I can¡¯t eat if I¡¯m not bloody hungry!¡¯ James shouted.

    Rather than take offence, the young man¡¯s smile widened, shaking his head as though an incomprehensible puzzle had just been laid before him.

    ¡®My name is Tavin,¡¯ he said undaunted.

    James continued to squint up at the young man before sighing resignedly.

    ¡®My name is James,¡¯ he paused, ¡®with an ¡°s¡±,¡¯ he added with a challenging frown.

    ¡®Jame. Yes, I know your name,¡¯ the boy replied simply.

    James rolled his eyes and struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain lingering within his shoulder.

    ¡®If you do not eat now you will tire quickly. We cannot afford to be delayed.¡¯

    ¡®Bloody hell, man!¡¯ James blustered. ¡®I never eat breakfast and I certainly don¡¯t need to be told when to eat by anyone!¡¯ He shouted the last word over his shoulder, hoping that Leander would hear it from wherever she was lurking.

    Now that another day had dawned, it was easy to forget the murderous sounds of the previous night. They had merely been figments of his imagination, of that he was now certain.

    Looking from side to side, he saw that they were alone in the bottom of the grassy hollow. The fire pit was now a blackened hole in the turf and only a thin wisp of blue smoke still lifted from its surface.

    ¡®Where is everyone?¡¯ James asked, suddenly propping himself up on his elbows.

    ¡®My brothers and Torrinth are scouting ahead. Leander and Fen study the land to the west,¡¯ Tavin said, nodding beyond the lip of the hollow. ¡®We are safe for now.¡¯

    The memory of the fire flickering through the darkness earlier that morning came back to him, and a sly grin crept upon his lips. Ever since first awakening to this strange world, he had been looking for a way to prove that it did not actually exist. He had the idea that, if only he could expose some flaw its logic, some glaring inconsistency, then perhaps he could break free of the hold it had over him. So far, everyone had been conveniently forbidden from answering his many questions, but in Tavin, he realised he might have found a more willing ear.

    ¡®Tell me, Tavin, if your people care so much for the forest, why do you light fires?¡¯

    ¡®We need fire to cook and to keep us warm,¡¯ the boy replied simply, ¡®and sometimes for illumination.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I understand that, but where do you get the wood from?¡¯

    ¡®The wood?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, the bloody stuff you burn to make fire! You tossed an armful of chopped logs onto the fire last night. I saw you do it!¡¯

    The young man frowned as though confused.

    ¡®We burn the seed pods of the Leander tree which fall all through the turn,¡¯ Tavin replied with a slight nod of his head. ¡®Is that what you mean?¡¯

    James¡¯ grin soured as his heart sank. Again his mind seemed to have reacted with lightning speed, quickly finding a way out of the trap he had laid for it.

    ¡®The dead limbs of trees may also be used for the purposes of making fire, but in such instances only melders may perform the Rite of Severance,¡¯ Tavin continued.

    ¡®Then what about your bloody swords and armour?¡¯ James snapped. ¡®You can¡¯t seriously be telling me you smelt iron by burning handfuls of seeds and dead wood!¡¯Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡®The blades we carry and the armour we wear are not fashioned of earth-metal,¡¯ Tavin replied flatly.

    ¡®Don¡¯t tell me,¡¯ James sneered, ¡®you grew the bloody things!¡¯

    ¡®In a manner of speaking, they were grown,¡¯ the young man said, registering his annoyance for the first time.

    The young man reached up and drew a small object from where it was fastened around his neck with a length of twine.

    James flinched when he saw what it was. Glinting on the end of the twine was a small silver knife.

    ¡®The blunt blade is the only object we use crafted from earth-metal.¡¯

    The young man regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, before getting to his feet.

    ¡®Follow me,¡¯ he said as he strode up the side of the hollow.

    James got unsteadily to his feet before tentatively following the young man to where he knelt beside one of the stunted trees that crowned their campsite. The branches were tall and slender, and in the light of day were revealed to be a dark olive green. It reminded him of a coppiced willow tree; a tree cut down to its base from where tall, slender shoots would grow.

    James frowned as a bizarre memory flashed into his mind. He saw again the young boy chasing his brother down a shifting tunnel woven from green stalks. A strange word accompanied the recollection and quietly he whispered it under his breath, ¡®willowing¡¯.

    Tavin appeared to hear the word for he nodded, his smile returning.

    Taking the curious tool in one hand, the young man grasped a swaying green branch and brought the blunt edge of the blade to its side. James shook his head as he watched over his shoulder. The idea that a piece of dull metal as blunt as a spoon could sever a hardened branch was just absurd!

    With one effortless stroke, Tavin passed the blade through the branch, slicing it completely in two.

    James¡¯ hand covered his mouth as he looked on in shocked silence, unable to believe what he was seeing.

    With another flick of Tavin¡¯s hand, the severed branch was shortened further, until a piece no longer than his forearm was held between his hands. Smiling at his incredulity, the young man continued to work the blade, carving the wood into a new form before James¡¯ eyes.

    ¡®The willowing must be worked quickly,¡¯ Tavin said, as thin slivers of the green wood splintered to the ground, ¡®and only by the blunt blade, for no sharpened steel may be brought to bear upon the trees of the Gelding,¡¯ Tavin said, repeating the curious warning told to him once by Bettiny.

    James thought again of the story of the weevil, the fallen race of people who had been turned into monsters after their mistreatment of the forest. The tale he had been told seemed all the more preposterous in the cold light of day. Yet, what he saw forming before his eyes between the young man¡¯s hands seemed just as impossible.

    When he was done, Tavin placed the finished object in James¡¯ hands. Dumbfounded, he regarded what the other man had created; a small, slender dagger, which even now appeared to blacken and harden in his hands. Gingerly, he raised the knife to his ear and heard the wood crackle and pop as though only recently drawn from a blacksmith¡¯s hearth.

    The dagger was both crude and elegant in appearance, an economy of design that made it look all the more lethal. James ran a tentative thumb across the blade and winced when he saw that its edge was as sharp as a razor.

    James drew his incredulous eyes from the dagger and back to the man who had miraculously crafted it, unable to believe what he had just witnessed.

    ¡®Once the newly carved willowing touches the air it hardens almost as strong as the steel blades used by your people,¡¯ Tavin said, regarding him in turn with his own lingering curiosity. ¡®Other items can be made from the willowing, but the process is somewhat different. For objects like my armour, or the bowl from which you might eat, someone practiced in the art of melding simply weaves the willowing into the desired form.¡¯

    Tavin continued to stare as James slowly turned the dagger in his hands.

    ¡®Everything we make from the willowing remains alive. Nothing is lost by these transformations. In times of peace we do not carry such weapons, nor do we revere them or give them silly names as you barbarians are liken to do with your precious metal blades. When we have no further use for our weapons they are returned to the earth, and there they grow anew.¡¯

    ¡®You mean¡­ your sword¡­ it will grow into another tree?¡¯ James asked uncertainly.

    The young man laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

    ¡®Of course! That is our way. The forest provides, but we must give back to it in kind.¡¯

    The young man¡¯s smile slipped from his face and he stood abruptly, hurriedly replacing the blunt blade around his neck.

    Leander¡¯s cold, detached voice intruded from behind, making James grimace as he stood, the dagger still clutched in his hand.

    ¡®Has he eaten?¡¯

    ¡®He is not hungry,¡¯ Tavin replied with a grin. ¡®Perhaps barbarians do not partake of breakfast?¡¯

    Leander¡¯s teeth were bared as she snatched the dagger from James¡¯ hands. With a disdainful flick of her wrist, she tossed the dagger to the ground where it was buried to its hilt.

    ¡®Have you taken leave of your senses, Tavin?¡¯ Leander snapped, rounding on the young man.

    ¡®Jame is harmless, he can do no harm with such a tiny blade,¡¯ Tavin replied with a shrug.

    Ignoring Tavin, Leander turned her piercing eyes back upon James, causing him to stumble backwards and trip upon his discarded sack.

    ¡®Unless it has escaped your attention, we are currently fleeing a small army of men, supposedly intent upon ending your life. Whilst I am not overly concerned whether they accomplish their task or not, I will not have any more of my people put in danger because of you. Now eat!¡¯

    James reacted with angry acquiescence and roughly opened his cloth sack, rummaging for something, anything, to stuff into his mouth. His fingers closed around one of the copper-coloured tubers Bettiny had often prepared for him, and angrily he bit it in half.

    Scowling up at the two warriors, he found Tavin watching him intently, a quizzical grin hitching up the side of his mouth.

    ¡®We do not eat them like that!¡¯ Tavin said, grinning.

    ¡®Well that¡¯s the way I eat the bloody things!¡¯ James mumbled, stuffing the rest of the uncooked vegetable into his mouth.

    ¡®Cachoon are better cooked with Tarrow-root, or Lemspur if you can find it,¡¯ Tavin continued, unperturbed. ¡®Or merely cooked would be an improvement,¡¯ he finished with a chuckle.

    ¡®Well, you know where you can stick your Tarrow-root!¡¯ James mumbled through his stuffed mouth.

    Tavin laughed aloud but was quickly cut short.

    ¡®Tavin!¡¯ Leander snapped. ¡®Kirrin waits for you! We have wasted time enough with your childishness already!¡¯

    Tavin¡¯s smile vanished and he nodded, before hurriedly retrieving his bow and quiver. Casting one last curious glance at James, he sprang up the side of the depression and was quickly lost amongst the trees.

    ¡®Let me clarify my position, lest there be any doubt on the subject,¡¯ Leander said, her bow now braced within her rigid hand. ¡®I do not share my father¡¯s belief that you are important in any way to the coming war¡­¡¯

    ¡®Well that makes two of us,¡¯ James interrupted.

    ¡®Therefore,¡¯ Leander said, gritting her teeth, ¡®I will not hesitate to leave you behind should you slow us down or hinder us in any way. Is that understood?¡¯

    Leander took a step closer and glowered down at him.

    ¡®It may not have occurred to your tiny barbarian brain, but at any point have you considered those we have left behind in Galendar? The defence of my father¡¯s house has been left in the hands of melders and healers. The only real defence they had is currently wasting its time served in your protection!

    ¡®Our primary mission, our only mission, is to seek help for those currently fighting for their lives!¡¯

    James swallowed his mouthful with difficulty and tried to look the formidable woman in the eye.

    Despite everything she had just said, he found himself staring up at her as the sun began at last to crest the trees. The pale silver scars marring her beautiful face held his gaze. These ugly marks of some brutal episode of her past seemed transformed by the fair flesh beneath, like cruel words written upon the finest white silk. Her long, braided hair whipped sideways in the breeze exposing delicate ears, each adorned by pale hoops of wood. A glint of silver sparkled at her neck where another of the blunt blades was concealed.

    For a moment, James forgot Leander¡¯s spiteful words and stood instead transfixed by her alien beauty.

    The young woman¡¯s expression seemed to grow uncertain under his scrutiny, and hurriedly she looked away as Torrinth emerged from the trees. A flicker of emotion tensed her jaw before she abruptly turned and stormed away.

    ¡®Bring the barbarian fool, Torrinth,¡¯ she called over her shoulder. ¡®He has wasted time enough.¡¯

 11 - Kabavar

    As they moved out into the early morning sunshine a strong breeze rattled through the forest, sending leaves whispering through the air like the wings of dead butterflies.

    For the first time, James saw the forest revealed in the light of day. The tantalising glimpses of trees and plants seen in the darkness of night were anything but familiar to him now. Trees that he had hesitantly labelled oak, elm, or ash, were revealed to be monstrous deviations from these forms. There was something undeniably alien about the forest, an essential quality that resisted his attempts to reconcile it with anything he had ever experienced. If the forest was indeed a product of his own mind, it was a construction that had plundered the depths of an imagination he never knew he possessed.

    The only certainty he could hold onto was that it was a forest quietly and magnificently settling into autumn. Whilst a few curious evergreen trees covetously held on to their dark green foliage, deciduous trees everywhere else proudly displayed their turning leaves; earthy ochres and tarnished golds, the livid reds of scarlet and vermillion.

    True to Leander¡¯s word, they marched throughout the day without rest. And as the hours wound inexorably on, James found himself becoming more and more desperate. His body still ached from the previous night¡¯s journey, and his movements through the forest were now like those of a man stumbling through a drunken stupor. By noon, his empty stomach was cramping but he stubbornly pushed on, unwilling to concede defeat to the woman who dragged them so remorselessly through the forest.

    Midway through the afternoon, just as his feet were beginning to drag through the carpet of fallen leaves, the claustrophobic vista was suddenly changed. Up ahead, a great swathe of sky escaped the occluding canopy, revealing a wide ribbon of blue against a sea of yellow leaves.

    From out of the thinning trees, a yawning chasm loomed across their path. Their way ahead was barred but for a fallen tree lying across the gap like a precarious bridge. Miraculously, enough of its great root remained anchored to the ground to keep the tree alive; its many branches reaching up to form a swaying tunnel of golden leaves. Despite the tree¡¯s wide girth and the shallow groove threaded along its top, James inched across its length like an old man, his wary eyes ever creeping out to those branches trailing out into the void beneath them.

    A howling gust of wind suddenly exploded from below, sending a blizzard of leaves whipping through the air. The dead leaves felt like a swarm of leathery wings rushing past him, and he flailed his arms to ward his face. The movement unbalanced him and with a terrified scream he felt himself pitching to the side. Once again, it was only Torrinth¡¯s lightning reactions that saved him from plummeting to his death.

    When they finally reached the other side James slumped to the ground. With trembling hands he drew his travel sack open, reaching for any morsel of food that came to hand. Leander glanced disdainfully down at him but for once kept her tongue, turning instead to converse with Kirrin who had emerged from beside the trail.

    The man¡¯s face was ashen, his jaw set firmly beneath his hard eyes.

    ¡®What news?¡¯ she asked impatiently.

    ¡®The stone road remains impassable,¡¯ he said, reaching for a flask strapped across his shoulder.

    ¡®This far east?¡¯ Leander replied incredulously.

    ¡®Weevil are drawn to the road like moths seeking flame. The numbers we encountered with your father have increased beyond counting.¡¯

    The man¡¯s stern gaze detached itself for a moment from Leander and raked across James¡¯ face. His eyes seemed to burn with accusation as though he saw the reason for all their misfortunes sitting before them. After a long pause he continued, dismissing James¡¯ presence as though sickened by what he saw.

    ¡®We must continue further north toward the meadow villages if we are to avoid confrontation,¡¯ he said, taking a deep draught from his flask.

    Leander shook her head in dismay and gazed off along the trail ahead.

    ¡®So be it,¡¯ she replied with frustration. ¡®We shall make instead for Venn. There at least we may find warriors to aid in Galendar¡¯s defence.

    The man nodded curtly and reattached his flask before disappearing once more into the dense vegetation beside the trail.

    ¡®Up!¡¯ Leander shouted, striding over to where James sat slumped upon the ground.

    James groaned, chewing obstinately on a hunk of dark bread.

    ¡®I have to rest!¡¯ he barked.

    ¡®You can rest when you are dead,¡¯ Leander replied glibly.

    She nodded towards Torrinth who promptly placed him back onto his unsteady feet.

    James began to whimper, his balled fists pushed into his eyes. He had never felt so tired and wretched in his life. He looked past the emotionless face of Torrinth to the unyielding glare of the young woman.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, but I just can¡¯t walk any further today! I simply can¡¯t!¡¯

    Leander¡¯s face broke into a cruel sneer and she pointed the end of her bow at him like an accusing finger.

    ¡®Behold, our saviour!¡¯ she spat.

    James trembled with sudden fury as Torrinth¡¯s hand tightened upon his shoulder in warning.

    It was bad enough to be forced to endure this hopeless fantasy and all the miseries that accompanied it, but to be ridiculed by the very woman who had pulled him into this nightmare with her spiteful arrow was too much to take.

    ¡®Go to hell!¡¯ he bellowed, his voice shaking with fear and exhaustion. ¡®I never asked for any of this! It¡¯s your father you have to thank for my company. It has nothing to do with me!¡¯

    Leander¡¯s eyes flared at the mention of her father and she moved quickly forward as though to strike, causing James to sprawl backwards onto the ground.

    ¡®It has everything to do with you!¡¯ Leander seethed. ¡®Never speak of my father again if you wish to remain breathing in this world. He and the fifty-seven others of Galendar are currently fighting for their lives and it is all because of you!¡¯

    James stared back at the young woman as she stormed away. Fen¡¯s pitying glance lingered upon him for a moment but then she too turned her back and followed her companion into the trees.

    For a long time, there was only the sound of the leaves sighing upon the breeze. James looked down at his dirty hands, clasping what remained of his meal. Despite the alien forest that surrounded him, the scents that lingered upon the air could almost be those from his own world. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to a time that already seemed impossibly distant; a day in late autumn, walking hand-in-hand with the girlfriend he no longer had. He remembered her radiant smile, the falling leaves whispering across their path¡­

    With a violent swing of his hand, James slapped himself across the face. The impact was jarring but he did it again, and again, trying to beat the nightmare from head. Only when he could no longer lift his hands from the ground did he eventually stop. But still, the sounds and the scent of the forest registered his futility.

    When he opened his eyes, it was Torrinth he found kneeling beside him. The intensity of his dark eyes was unnerving and he flinched when the old man suddenly moved towards him. Taking James¡¯ travel sack, he quickly pulled the drawstring closed and draped it over his own shoulder. And then, before he had chance to protest, he was hoisted upon his back and carried on into the forest.

    ***

    Night had already fallen when James and Torrinth finally met the rest of the party in a secluded glade. The gently rolling gait of the old man had sent him to sleep hours before, so when he awoke it was with an unpleasant jerk of disorientation.

    Torrinth carefully laid him upon the ground beside a flickering fire, once more tended by Fen. Her friendly face smiled within its orange glow as she offered him a small wooden bowl filled with the familiar broth partaken during his convalescence. Holding the bowl between his trembling hands, he quickly raised it to his mouth and devoured its contents. The food made him suddenly giddy and he sat back against a rounded boulder, staring pitifully down at his shaking hands.

    The glade was secluded, shielded by dense forest and a scattering of large boulders which contained the out-spilling of firelight like a closed hand. Two of the brothers sat in the shadows beyond the firelight, the rest of them sitting upon a fallen tree beside the fire.

    Despite the warmth of fire and the seclusion of their camp, no one spoke. The atmosphere was oppressive and tense; the expressions revealed by the flickering light, downcast and forlorn. Recalling Leander¡¯s furious tirade from earlier, a number resurfaced in James¡¯ mind.

    Fifty-seven.

    Could he really be responsible for these people¡¯s lives? People he had never met, threatened by a force he couldn¡¯t know?

    No, such thoughts were absurd. The roar of the attackers descending upon Galendar seemed already like a distant memory. It was far easier to believe that everything they had left behind them no longer existed. He was the centre of this perverse universe, and everything before and behind him merely a blank page waiting for the demented brush of his imagination to fill.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Even so, he found himself now seeking Tavin¡¯s gaze and the friendly warmth he had found there this morning. But when the young man finally met his eyes, he turned uncomfortably away and rose instead to join the company of his brothers.

    James gritted his teeth and abruptly got to his feet. He couldn¡¯t bear to be amongst these people for a moment longer. The weight of their silent accusations and the guilt it engendered within him was too much to bear. Leander looked up from where she had been staring into the fire and regarded him as though only now registering his presence.

    ¡®I wish to be alone for a moment,¡¯ James muttered.

    Leander¡¯s face remained expressionless but Torrinth stood, returning his bowl to the ground.

    ¡®Alone,¡¯ James repeated stubbornly.

    Leander glanced to one side, the simple gesture causing Torrinth to reluctantly return to where he had been seated.

    ¡®Do not get lost, little lamb,¡¯ she said, gazing back into the fire. ¡®We will not trouble ourselves to look for you.¡¯

    James left the warm glow of the fire and blundered out of the glade. His muscles burned from the forced march of the day, but his hands pushed past the obstinate trunks of trees as he propelled himself deeper into the forest. In his anguish he had developed a desperate theory: if he removed himself far enough away from his companions, then surely they¡¯d cease to exist like the horde of attackers supposedly in pursuit. Picking up speed, his movements became frantic as he snapped twigs and tore through the cloying undergrowth at his feet. Perhaps if he got far enough away, Leander¡¯s contemptuous grin would also be erased from her face.

    Finally, exhausted and dejected, he sank to the ground, his back pressed against the tangled roots of an ancient tree. His hands came up to cradle his face as his shoulders began to shudder. Tears of fear and hopelessness fell freely from his eyes, but the sound of his crying only angered him further. He punched the ground hard and winced as pain shot up his arm. Even here, in this miserable dream, he remained the most useless and pathetic person he had ever known.

    When his quiet sobbing finally exhausted itself, he felt somewhat better for it. Exhaling a deep sigh, he tilted his head back to the tree and peered through the lacework of its branches. Dark clouds rolled menacingly across the sky obscuring all but the brightest stars. The moon too had been claimed by its velvety blanket, but when it eventually slipped past, it was the bright nimbus of its green companion which emerged from its grasp.

    ¡®So you¡¯re back again?¡¯ James said with a wry smile.

    Now that the curious green moon was proved to still exist, he hurriedly scrutinised it before it could be reclaimed by the cloud. As he had remembered it from his dream of flying, the moon was completely featureless. However, the strangest detail, other than its unusual colour, was the more curious absence of its phases. The larger of the two moons had, in the intervening weeks, been reduced to a slender crescent. So why hadn¡¯t its smaller companion?

    As he continued to stare up at the baleful green circle in the sky, he imagined instead that it was the eye of a giant cat, and he the helpless bird pinned beneath its glare; something merely to be toyed with, a broken thing to be batted between its paws before being pitched into its mouth¡­

    The unpleasant play of his imagination unsettled him and he quickly got to his feet, brushing dead leaves from his robes. Now that his anger had evaporated, he recognised the folly of his impetuous dash through the forest. The brooding silence that surrounded him appeared all the more sinister now that he was alone. Drawing in a deep breath, he strained past the thudding in his ears for any sign of his companions. In the far distance, he thought he heard the faraway notes of Fen¡¯s voice, and gingerly he began walking in that direction.

    He hadn¡¯t got far, when he heard a noise that made him stop in his tracks. In the absolute silence, it was all the more unsettling, for it was the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground. Inching backwards, he kept his eyes trained upon the darkness framed between trees tinted green by the light of the moon. The hairs on the nape of his neck bristled as a twig snapped nearby, followed by the murmurings of a female voice. Lurching behind the gnarled roots of a tree, he watched as a curious light blossomed from out of the darkness. The light was weak but it threw wild shadows as it drew ever closer.

    It was then that he saw her.

    Wearing ragged robes of stained white silk, a slender young woman walked hesitantly between the trees, her movements jerky and uncertain like a rag doll animated by clumsy hands. Her pale body seemed to radiate a cold white light of its own which shimmered across the dark boughs of the trees like reflected moonlight.

    James¡¯ eyes widened.

    It wasn¡¯t possible! It couldn¡¯t be! But there she was, ambling between the trees like a broken toy.

    ¡®Bettiny!¡¯ he called, staggering from out of his hiding place. ¡®Bettiny! Over here! It¡¯s me, James!¡¯

    If the forest had been holding its breath moments before, now it suddenly exhaled, sending a rushing gale barrelling through the trees. The fevered eyes that had been roving restlessly in her head suddenly fixed upon him.

    He noticed now that her silk robe was torn asunder, gouts of dried blood plastering one side of her body like a crimson shroud. And, her hair¡­ her beautiful braided locks of ebony hair had been savagely shorn from her head, leaving behind a tattered bob that twitched pitifully in the breeze.

    ¡®What¡­ whatever happened Bettiny?¡¯ James stuttered as he walked uncertainly out to greet her. ¡®Are you very badly hurt?¡¯

    He extended his arms, meaning to hold her in an embrace, but something about her expression made him stop, his blood running cold in his veins.

    For despite her terrible condition, Bettiny was grinning. The whites of her wild eyes were tinged with red, her pale lips drawn up into a manic grin. A terrible sound issued from behind her closed mouth as her jaw savagely ground her teeth together. There was a terrible crack and then a jagged splinter of tooth appeared between her lips, which she spat towards him like a piece of over-chewed gum.

    She opened her mouth and a thin dribble of blood dripped onto her chest.

    ¡®I¡­ see¡­ you!¡¯ she whispered.

    James took a step backwards and tripped on the roots of the tree, the scream he was about to release dying as the wind was knocked out of him.

    From between the trees, two other glowing figures emerged. To James¡¯ horror, these came floating through the air, their naked body¡¯s slowly rotating like drowned bodies gliding beneath dark water. Unlike Bettiny, they were obviously not of the Gelding; their features were somehow cruder, their noses larger, their flint-grey eyes like round pennies in their sunken sockets.

    One was a woman, her naked body crisscrossed with dark wounds. The other, a man, his left arm severed and crudely bound to his chest with thick straps of leather. Like Bettiny, their eyes roved ceaselessly in their sockets until they fixed upon their prey.

    ¡®Help!¡¯ James finally screamed.

    Bettiny laughed, a horrible sound that sent pieces of broken tooth and blood sliding down her chin.

    ¡®Too late for help, little man! We see you now!¡¯ she said, her voice bubbling in her throat.

    With a sickening crunch, her head snapped to one side, addressing the figures still hovering in the air beside her.

    ¡®I am needed elsewhere. Bring him north. He is to be kept alive, but should he resist, remove his legs.¡¯

    With her command given, Bettiny lurched backwards through the trees as though pulled by an invisible rope. Her glowing body receded into the darkness, leaving him alone with the floating apparitions.

    James screamed again as the man and woman dropped to the forest floor, their bodies jerking under their own weight like fallen puppets. With clumsy movements, they reached blindly to their sides, before drawing wicked knives from where they had been tied to their thighs. Baring their teeth like wild animals, they slowly advanced.

    James had just found his feet when he was savagely thrown to the ground. With wild eyes, he looked up to find Torrinth standing over him, his leathery hands gripping his dark sword.

    ¡®Forest scum!¡¯ the naked man shrieked, his hand sweeping the air with the cruel blade.

    There was a shrill whistle, and then a black arrow was embedded in his head. His eyes flickered momentarily, but his grin widened, releasing a thin trickle of dark blood onto his bare chest.

    ¡®Pointy sticks will do you no good, forest bitch!¡¯ the man leered, the arrow protruding from the centre of his head like a sick joke.

    Leander walked slowly into view, another arrow drawn against her pale face. Releasing her hand, she sent it thudding into the man¡¯s jaw, causing it to hang obscenely from his skull. But even without his mouth, his eyes continued to glint with evil mirth, the tortured skin of what remained of his face drawn into a mocking sneer.

    Torrinth rushed forward, his blade seeking the other man¡¯s neck, but the one-armed man reacted with inhuman speed, warding the blow with his knife. The woman tried to rush Torrinth as he was driven back, but her body lurched to the side as another black arrow appeared between her sagging breasts.

    In the split second distraction caused by Leander¡¯s arrow, Torrinth stepped to one side and with a deadly sweep of his blade, drew a dark line across the other man¡¯s neck. The grotesque head promptly toppled from its shoulders in a torrent of blood, but unmindful of its decapitation, the man stayed afoot, his one arm blindly carving the air with the knife still clenched in his fist. With a deft turn of his hand, Torrinth¡¯s sword traced a tight arc through the air, completing a trajectory that swept downwards, cutting out the leg from under the headless body. The man finally tumbled to the ground, but the limbs it still possessed continued to thrash and convulse like a toppled automaton.

    The demonic woman screamed and threw herself beyond the reach of Torrinth¡¯s blade. Holding the jagged iron dagger in two white-knuckled hands, she sprang forward with bewildering speed, sending the point straight for James¡¯ throat.

    James jerked his head to the side and closed his eyes. There was the sound of something sweeping the air close to his face, followed by a spray of warm liquid. James clutched at his throat and gasped, but it wasn¡¯t until he opened his eyes that he saw that the blood covering his face was not his own.

    Leander stood beside him, her own sword now drawn and dripping blood. Beneath her, the woman¡¯s naked body thrashed wildly in the undergrowth, its decapitated head mouthing silent curses like a fish gulping air.

    James screamed at the horrible sight, but was instantly muffled by a hand covering his mouth. Leander bent beside him shaking her head, her face tight with annoyance. Turning, she took her blade to the severed head, cleaving it in two; the jaw bone still twitching pitifully as though uncertain how to be still.

    James¡¯ stomach heaved and he vomited onto the ground as the wet sounds of Leander¡¯s butchery continued to fill the silence.

    When he finally sat up, dazed and shivering, he found the other members of the party gathered around them, their swords drawn and bloodied.

    ¡®We have been foolish,¡¯ Leander spat, shouldering her bow. ¡®How many kabavar?¡¯ she asked Kirrin, who quietly surveyed the carnage around them.

    ¡®Three others,¡¯ came his terse reply. ¡®All of them now silent.¡¯

    James regarded Leander with desperate pleading. His mind continued to revolt against what he had just witnessed, but only one thought emerged out of his terror.

    ¡®Bettiny was here,¡¯ he heard himself say, his trembling voice like that of a lost child, ¡®she¡­ she spoke to me.¡¯

    Leander¡¯s face seemed to sag at what he had said. Turning slowly, she stared at him as the other¡¯s quietly gathered nearer.

    ¡®Are you certain?¡¯ she asked, her voice now a harsh whisper.

    ¡®It was her,¡¯ James whimpered, hugging himself across his soiled robes, ¡®but her hair had been cut and her voice¡­¡¯ James paused, his mind still refusing to believe what he had just witnessed, ¡®her voice was wrong! Everything was wrong!¡¯

    ¡®Forest preserve!¡¯ Fen¡¯s quiet voice limped from the darkness.

    Leander closed her eyes, her hands reaching up to cradle her face.

    ¡®Then Bettiny is already dead,¡¯ she said, her voice barely a whisper.

    Raising her head, she stared up at the pale circle of green, peeking from between dark clouds.

    ¡®What you saw was what she has now become,¡¯ she said after a long pause. ¡®A corpse come alive¡­ a kabavar.¡¯

    James found himself staring into her eyes made green by the reflected light of the moon. The tight mask of resilience she had worn ever since leaving her father¡¯s side was momentarily shattered. When she glanced back down, she fixed James with her inscrutable gaze. The words that followed were tossed at him like accusations, yet their sound was hollow as though they had already laboured across a thousand miles of desolation and despair.

    ¡®Bettiny is dead, and the house of my father has fallen.¡¯

 12 - Slaughter

    A shrill scream echoed through the trees as they ran through the night. It was the unmistakeable scream of a female voice, stretched and distorted by uncontrollable rage. They all knew who it was but no one spoke her name. With an involuntary shudder, James swept his gaze across the darkness as he ran, expecting at any moment to see Bettiny¡¯s glowing body gliding out in pursuit. But for now at least, they were alone.

    Despite his overwhelming fatigue James kept pace with his companions. His aches and pains were momentarily forgotten in the sea of adrenaline still coursing through his body, but it wasn¡¯t long before he felt his exhaustion gradually gnaw its way back into his consciousness. His legs stabbed the ground in frenzied desperation, but when the fallen trunk of a tree crossed their path, his foot clipped its side and he was sent sprawling to the forest floor.

    The light footfalls around him stopped and then he was gazing up into the dark eyes of his companions. Leander¡¯s voice cut through the silence but the expected admonishment did not come. Instead, she turned to Fen and spoke a word James could not understand.

    Fen hesitated, glancing at the other woman uncertainly.

    ¡®Do you think it wise to give it to him now?¡¯ she asked, reaching to her waist where a collection of tiny wooden vials hung from her belt.

    ¡®What choice do we have?¡¯ Leander replied curtly. ¡®None of us can carry him at this pace.¡¯

    James flinched away as Fen brought a small bottle to his lips.

    ¡®You¡¯re trying to poison me!¡¯ he gasped, fighting to catch his breath.

    ¡®Do not be a fool,¡¯ Leander grimaced. ¡®It is something to help you travel more easily, nothing more.¡¯

    James tapped the bottle away and tried to stand, but his legs folded, spilling him back onto the ground.

    ¡®Take the draught or stay where you lie, it is your choice,¡¯ Leander said through clenched teeth. ¡®But the longer you wait, the sooner we shall all be killed.¡¯

    Fen bent closer to him, the earnest pleading in her eyes eventually causing him to grudgingly acquiesce. Taking the bottle himself, he filled his mouth with the cold liquid and swallowed it in a single gulp. The liquid burned, searing his throat like surgical spirit. He grabbed his neck gasping for air, but just as he was beginning to believe he had been deceived, the pain suddenly lifted and he was left only with a lingering sweetness inside his mouth.

    ¡®Now, stand,¡¯ Leander commanded.

    ¡®I can¡¯t,¡¯ James protested. ¡®Didn¡¯t you just see me try?¡¯

    ¡®Stand!¡¯ Leander shouted.

    With a forlorn sigh, James steeled himself to raise his heavy body from the ground. He expected his weak legs to once more fail him, but when he pushed against the damp soil he sprang to his feet in one effortless motion. With shocked disbelief, he felt the heavy incumbency of his body vanish. He no longer felt the ache of his muscles, nor the fatigue of his legs and arms. A sudden, terrible urge to run consumed him and without waiting for the others to move, he bounded off into the forest. Before long, the familiar shapes of his companions joined him, guiding his passage through the forest. He felt annoyed that his freedom to run had been curtailed, but at least they weren¡¯t trying to stop him.

    With mild fascination, he watched as the countless trees of the forest passed beside them. It was strange, but it felt almost as though he was standing still and it was the trees that were rushing past him. The memories of the horrors he had just witnessed, even the fear of pursuit, seemed suddenly insignificant and before long he found himself quietly chuckling as they sped on through the forest.

    The green moon slid gracefully through the sky as the blanket of stars wheeled with it. The forest was now a blur, an insubstantial ghost that rushed past his body like fog carried upon the wind. Light ignited the sky as the great sun dawned impossibly early, turning the fog from a momentary grey to a riot of blazing autumnal colours. James laughed openly, the warmth of the sunlight and the wind sweeping across his body filling him with an unquenchable joy.

    Suddenly, the trees were gone and he was sprinting instead across an open meadow. He turned his head and noticed for the first time a young woman running beside him, desperate to reach him. He felt her hand upon his arm and then an insistent tug as she gradually brought him to a halt.

    James continued to jog on the spot as he impatiently watched other figures stagger forward, some of them bent almost double as they gasped for breath.

    James frowned.

    There was a strange sound in his ears; two sounds now that he thought about it. One was like the shrill whine of an insistent wind, the other like a pounding drum beating out of control. Raising his hands to his face he saw that they were bright red and shaking violently.

    Understanding gradually dawned when he realised that the sound he heard was that of his own ragged breathing, his heart hammering out of control. A wave of concern rippled through him, but then just as quickly it melted away, replaced by an irresistible urge to let his eager legs propel him on across the meadow beyond.

    ¡®Release me at once!¡¯ he shouted, tugging impatiently against the woman¡¯s grip.

    The stranger scowled and moved her hands to his wrist where she pushed, bending his hand painfully backwards. He felt the bones about to break and let his feet tumble from under him. He hit the ground heavily, but before he could move, the woman¡¯s strong hands were pinning him down.

    ¡®Quickly Fen, there is not much time!¡¯ the woman shouted breathlessly.

    Another figure moved closer, her breath rasping in her throat, her face flushed pink. Between her slender fingers she held what looked like a ripe cherry, but coloured an ominous blue.

    Carefully placing the fruit between his teeth, her hands pressed upon his jaw causing his teeth to break its skin. A foul bitterness flooded his mouth causing him to retch. He tried to spit the liquid from his mouth but the woman¡¯s hands held his mouth tightly shut.

    ¡®Swallow it!¡¯ she said desperately.

    James swallowed the disgusting fruit and winced, eager to get this pointless exercise out of the way so that he could resume his run.

    But something was wrong¡­

    The vast energy that had but moments before surged through his body, seemed now to be pouring out of him. His vision swam and he looked uncertainly up at the woman holding him to the ground. Her face was fierce, a terrible scar running across half her face. Her hair fell about his shoulders like a tapestry woven from black silk, her body pungent with the musky scent of sweat and burnt incense.

    ¡®You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re beautiful,¡¯ he said, smiling uncertainly up at her.

    The expression on her face was difficult to read, but her painful grip upon him lessened.

    James continued to smile, but a sudden cramp sent waves of pain blazing through his body. His stomach felt as though it was on fire and he rolled to the side, finally freeing himself of the woman¡¯s grip. He started to scream but the woman¡¯s hand sealed his mouth, turning it into a muffled exhalation. Struggling against her grip, he bent to the side and vomited across the grass beside him. A thin, green liquid poured from his mouth, burning his throat and mouth as it came.

    Finally he collapsed onto his back, drawing deep breaths into lungs that felt as though they were on fire. The pain and fatigue of the past hours he had spent sprinting through the forest descended upon him like a crushing wave. The old wound in his shoulder throbbed as his head felt ready to explode. The fragile light of day seemed to dim and then the darkness at the edges of his vision rushed in to smother him completely.

    ***

    James awoke to the sound of quiet conversation. Lifting his heavy eyelids, he looked up to see four dark figures emerge from the distant line of trees. His head still hurt terribly and he felt tired to his bones. But worse than that, he had no idea where he was.

    His head rested upon someone¡¯s lap. He tried to get up, but the motion sent fire rushing through his limbs.

    ¡®Keep still, you must rest,¡¯ a gentle voice soothed from behind as a delicate hand rested upon his brow. ¡®You will feel better as the day unfolds, but for now it is important that you resist the urge for movement.¡¯

    ¡®Bettiny?¡¯ James mumbled.

    The hand upon his head seemed to flinch and then withdrew.

    ¡®It is I, Fen,¡¯ she said quietly.

    The tone of her voice brought back the hazy memories of the previous night; the woman who had once been his nurse transformed into some kind of monster.

    ¡®What the hell happened?¡¯ James groaned, holding his throbbing head.

    ¡®You drank of the waters of the wellspring, the life-blood of the forest,¡¯ she replied simply.

    James pulled a face, simultaneously disgusted that he had drunk a bottle of bathwater and incredulous that it could affect him so.

    ¡®It is dangerous to partake of the life-blood without assistance,¡¯ Fen continued. ¡®Were you not caught by Leander, you would have continued to run through the forest until you died upon your feet.¡¯This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡®I don¡¯t remember running¡­¡¯ James replied in confusion.

    ¡®We passed many leagues through the night. But we misjudged how fast you could run. You were very lucky. Had Leander not caught you, you would not have lasted the morning.¡¯

    ¡®Where are we?¡¯ he asked, his voice rising.

    ¡®Silence!¡¯ Leander hissed as she strode out to greet Torrinth and the three brothers.

    ¡®We are being pursued,¡¯ Kirrin said, still catching his breath, ¡®but the barbarians track us without skill.¡¯

    ¡®How many?¡¯ Leander asked. ¡®How far?¡¯

    ¡®Three of the men are wayfarers but more than five score follow in their wake, no more than three leagues from where we stand. We have created a diversion that should send them further to the north, but it will not be long before they realise our deception.¡¯

    Tavin smiled bleakly and looked over his brother¡¯s shoulder to where James was lying, ¡®Our friend here created quite the path through the forest.¡¯

    Leander nodded curtly and turned. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the wide meadow beyond; a shimmering lake of yellow bordered by dark trees.

    ¡®Something is wrong here,¡¯ she said, walking slowly forward. ¡®Where are the village sentries? We are in plain sight, yet they do not signal. They could not be so careless as to ignore the western boundary!¡¯

    ¡®What shall we do?¡¯ Wellin asked, drinking deeply from a wooden flask before passing it to his younger brother.

    ¡®Our path remains due east. We will continue to the village and seek what assistance they might give,¡¯ Leander replied, stooping to pick up her bow. ¡®And then we shall see to it that the intruders do not leave the Gelding alive.¡¯

    ***

    The trek across the meadow was long. The flaxen blades of grass whispered against their waists as they waded through them, raising windborne seeds to dance upon the air like silken butterflies.

    James travelled once more upon the old man¡¯s back, his head lolling from side to side as he fought to remain awake. In his fevered dreams he saw black figures swarming out from between the trees, but each time he jerked awake the distant edge of the forest remained as it was.

    After what might have been more than a mile of walking, the ground began to pitch gently upwards. As James jerked awake, he saw a haphazard line of rooftops silhouetted against the sky.

    Noticing Fen walking beside him, James asked quietly, ¡®Where are we?¡¯

    Fen regarded him thoughtfully, her fingers curled tightly around her bow.

    ¡®Venn is one of the many meadow villages scattered throughout the northern fringe of the Gelding. It is a place famous for its orchards and its production of wine.¡¯ Fen¡¯s open expression became clouded when she added, ¡®and, it was also the birthplace of the healer you knew of as Bettiny.¡¯

    James closed his eyes and groaned miserably against Torrinth¡¯s shoulder. He thought of Bettiny¡¯s parents and the news they carried of their daughter¡¯s terrible fate. The lingering effects of the potion he had drunk the night before left him feeling feeble and wretched, and the nearer they got to the village the more he felt inadequate to entering it.

    It wasn¡¯t until they drew nearer, however, that they each registered the unnatural quiet; no birds sang; no insects dared flutter their wings. Even the breeze seemed unable to elicit as much as a whisper from the willow trees, scattered between the strange buildings like lonely sentinels. After the myriad sounds of the forest, the sepulchral silence of the village was ominous.

    They passed from the tall grasses of the meadow and stepped onto a soft covering of moss and clover; the transition between the two marked by a perfect circle which surrounded the entire village like a gigantic crop circle cut within a field of wheat. The dwellings that lay beyond were small, and varied wildly in design as though each had been crafted by a different hand. Some had pitched roofs of green thatch, others resembled Native American teepee; tapering swirls of chestnut-coloured wood twisted into hollow points. Other houses defied description altogether, constructions caught halfway between geometric shapes and the chaotic tangles of woven tree roots.

    Kirrin approached an oval opening in one of the teepees and pushed aside the heavy curtain hanging across its portal.

    ¡®Empty,¡¯ he said, fixing Leander with a quizzical frown.

    ¡®Tavin, Wellin, check the other homes,¡¯ Leander said, striding over to another of the strange dwellings and whipping aside its curtain.

    Tavin and Wellin followed suit, passing from house to house, ducking under curtains and sliding open doors. However, the result was always the same; the village was deserted, inside and out.

    From Torrinth¡¯s back, James gloomily surveyed the interiors as they passed; tables laid for meals, chairs toppled in haste or anger, washing lines laden with dry garments. As mundane as the scenes described, their emptiness was deeply unsettling. Turning away in distress, James was the first to see Kirrin appear from behind a long, rectangular building. His noble head was downcast, his usual upright bearing collapsed as though some vital support had been crippled within. The change within the man was alarming and James felt himself involuntarily tense.

    ¡®They are all of them in the orchard,¡¯ he said quietly.

    A sudden gust of wind pulled the dark hair from his solemn grimace, sending the tall grasses beyond the village rattling like a nest of angry wasps. With Leander leading the way, they followed him around the corner of a deserted brewery and up to a simple fence bordering a plantation of fruit trees.

    James clung to the desperate hope that they would find the villagers tending their trees, or perhaps gathered in quiet council. But, the putrid smell of decay upon the air banished these thoughts as quickly as they were formed. His eyes travelled from the wind-fallen fruit rotting upon the ground, to the dark shapes hanging from the branches of the trees.

    ¡®No!¡¯ Fen¡¯s voice wavered beside him.

    Leander brought her hands to her mouth, her bow slipping into the crook of her arm.

    ¡®The children?¡¯ Fen asked with dismay.

    Kirrin gravely shook his head and his brothers turned their eyes to the ground as though in shame. Fen buried her face in her hands and openly wept.

    ¡®They have been dead these past three days,¡¯ Kirrin¡¯s deep voice intoned. ¡®Whoever attacked the village has long since departed. There are tracks leading away to the north, but perhaps only half a dozen men¡­¡¯ Kirrin hesitated, his posture becoming uncertain, almost clumsy.

    ¡®Six men did this?¡¯ Leander replied incredulously. ¡®How can so few have overwhelmed an entire village of our people?¡¯ Leander¡¯s voice seemed to plead.

    ¡®There are signs that they were not alone¡­¡¯

    The stoic man paused, somehow unnerved by what he was about to say.

    ¡®Weevil were among them.¡¯

    ¡®Weevil?¡¯ Leander cried aloud. ¡®How is that possible?¡¯

    The other warriors shook their heads, each of them stunned by what they had heard.

    At last Leander straightened her arm, her bow slipping into her hand where she gripped it in a trembling fist.

    ¡®We will not leave the dead to hang by these foul ropes,¡¯ she said, her voice simmering with rage. ¡®Quickly, cut them down and lay them to rest.¡¯

    ¡®But we don¡¯t have time!¡¯ James exclaimed, suddenly alarmed that Leander wished to stay a moment longer in this accursed place.

    Leander spun to face him, her scarred face contorted by hatred.

    ¡®Do not say another word!¡¯ she spat. ¡®Perhaps where you are from the passing of life is not worth a damn, but here it is sacred.¡¯

    ¡®I¡­ I¡¯m¡­ sorry, I didn¡¯t mean any disrespect,¡¯ James faltered.

    ¡®You disrespect by your very presence within our land. Keep your mouth shut and you may yet live to see another day.¡¯ Turning to Torrinth she said, ¡®Put him down. If he is well enough to resume his ceaseless complaining, he is well enough to assist.¡¯

    ¡®Please, I don¡¯t think I can do this,¡¯ James pleaded to his silent companion as Leander strode deeper into the orchard. ¡®I¡¯ve never even seen a dead body,¡¯ he said feebly, ¡®let alone touched one.¡¯

    If he used his imagination, he might have said that Torrinth¡¯s silence held a measure of sympathy, but as the old man lowered him to the ground and ushered him towards the nearest tree, it was clear that he had no further say in the matter.

    James brought his hands to his mouth and peered up at the stricken faces of five adults, hanging by their broken necks. The branches of the tree seemed to display the figures reluctantly, as though ashamed to have been implicated in their deaths. The men and women¡¯s wrists had been bound before the rope had ended their lives, and yet the most horrible sight was the mutilation done to their legs and feet; it was as though sharp knives had been used to flense away the flesh up to their knees, exposing bones blackened by dried blood.

    Torrinth brought his hand to his neck and removed the blunt blade from where it had been hidden beneath the suit of dark armour. The knife glinted dully in the sunlight as he placed it firmly in James¡¯ hand. The metal was warm to the touch, the edges of the curious blade as blunt as a river-smoothed pebble.

    Pointing to the coarse rope binding the nearest corpse to the tree, the old man slowly nodded his head.

    James peered nervously up at the noose, bound so tightly to the dead man¡¯s neck. He shivered as the dead man¡¯s eyes stared blankly down at him, the rope creaking as the body slowly rotated in its grasp.

    Taking the blade in his trembling hand, he stretched upwards. His fingers touched the man¡¯s cold flesh and he flinched, almost dropping the knife to the ground. With a groan of anguish, he gritted his teeth and stretched further, until the blunt edge of the blade hovered beside the twine stretched as taut as wire cable from the dead man¡¯s neck. The blade¡¯s edge had barely touched the coarse weave of the rope before it severed with an audible snap.

    Torrinth caught the body lightly in his arms and slowly laid it to rest at the base of the tree; his weathered hands placing the corpse¡¯s head against the trunk of the tree as delicately as a father laying a child to sleep.

    James proceeded to release the other four people as though in a trance; the man¡¯s wife and his three adult daughters; each of them carefully laid side by side by Torrinth¡¯s tender hands. When the last rope was severed, James sank to his knees like a man finally defeated. His eyes lingered upon the dead mother, her careworn face still holding onto the lines of anguish that had tormented her flesh moments before the rope had strangled the life from her.

    He realised with dismay that Leander was right to doubt him, was right to blame him for everything that was happening. For, was it not his own mind that had tortured and murdered these innocent lives? The dam that had been built from his abject denials suddenly broke in a tide of remorse. A ragged sob was pulled from the emptiness of his body as his tears pattered upon the blood-stained tunic of the dead father.

    Under his breath, James repeated the same refrain over and over again, chastising himself for the crimes his perverted mind had committed, ¡®I killed them, I killed them all!¡¯

    By the time he had recovered his senses, he saw that the rest of the bodies had been laid to rest. His companions were gathered nearby, their solemn faces turned to the ground in silent contemplation. Only Leander looked elsewhere, for her eyes were fixed solely upon him.

    Unnerved by her scrutiny, he turned instead to watch Fen walking slowly between the trees. Now and then, she stopped to crouch before the bodies now at rest beneath the swaying branches. It was only when she reached the tree under which he and Torrinth had laboured, that he saw the tiny object she placed within each of their mouths. Her lips muttered silent words as she closed the eyes of those still gazing blankly up at the sky.

    With her obscure work complete, she approached James where he knelt, her fingers removing the tears from his wet face as his own mother had once done to him as a child.

    ¡®They are at rest now, Jame. Do not mourn them any longer. They are returned to the forest and will be forever more.¡¯

    James shook his head, the overpowering guilt crippling the succour of Fen¡¯s tenderness like a butterfly clenched in a fist.

    ¡®I killed them,¡¯ James croaked, his breath still catching in his throat.

    Fen shook her head resolutely, her eyes searching his own as though attempting to soften the hardness she found there.

    ¡®The hands that killed these people belonged to men and monsters that hold contempt for all living things. A murderer would not weep at the sight of such slaughter,¡¯ she said, frowning at the dozens of bodies now at rest beneath the trees, ¡®such a murderer would derive only pleasure.¡¯

    Fen¡¯s words finally went some way towards calming the hopelessness that now clung to James like the soiled robes hanging from his frail body. He cast his gaze back down to the orchard floor, and finally understood Leander¡¯s decision to delay the quest in order to release the villagers from their nooses. The cruelty and barbarism wrought by the actions of these men and monsters had been purified by their intervention, leaving behind only the senseless debris of lost life. The very trees implicated in their murders, seemed to sigh with relief as if only now were they capable of mourning the souls that had once tended them so faithfully.

    ¡®What did you put in their mouths?¡¯ James croaked, his breath still catching in his throat as the others turned to leave.

    Fen regarded him thoughtfully as though still gauging the extent of his self-recriminations.

    ¡®They are the seeds of the Olendea. The plant is sacred to our people and is always sown upon those who have died before passing into the white. The Olendea will take these bodies and make them its own. Life will continue in place of that which was lost.¡¯

 13 - Weevil

    James sat slumped upon the ground, watching with disinterest as the others hurriedly searched the village for provisions. They had abandoned much of their food when they had fled their campsite the night before, confident that the villagers of Venn would re-supply them. Needless to say, the villagers had been generous to a fault, leaving behind everything in their possession for the taking.

    Tavin emerged from one of the strange dwellings and hurried over, clutching an armful of blue apples which he tumbled into James¡¯ travel sack.

    ¡®It is ill fortune indeed to be partaking of Venn¡¯s fruit in such a manner,¡¯ Tavin muttered to himself as he pulled the drawstring tightly closed, ¡®but our need is the greater this day.¡¯

    The young man attempted to smile as he pulled James to his feet, but even he could not complete the gesture that usually came so easily to him.

    ¡®We leave now, Jame,¡¯ he said, drawing the travel sack about James¡¯ shoulders. ¡®You shall travel upon my back, if that is to your liking.¡¯

    James remained silent, but allowed himself to be hoisted upon the other man¡¯s back. Together they made their way back through the village, the silence somehow greater now that the fate of its inhabitants was known.

    They found the rest of the party waiting for them at the centre of the village where a number of standing stones formed a ring around a well-tended green. The large granite stones had once been engraved with signs and symbols, but whatever meanings they once carried had long since been blurred by time. The quiet conversation stopped as they drew closer, each of the warriors burdened by the fate that had befallen the village. Their bodies were tense, their hands rigid upon their various weapons. Leander stood apart from the rest, her lithe body smouldering with undiminished fury. When she saw them approach she gave the signal to move on, her stride brisk with impatience.

    Their course lay due east across a well-trodden path that passed once more through the tall meadow grasses. Across the shifting sea of yellow, the distant forest loomed on the horizon like a band of gathering darkness.

    Swaying upon Tavin¡¯s back, James bowed his head and closed his eyes. It was undeniable that his imagination was capable of great wonder and beauty, but now he was more afraid of what other nightmares it might also bring to bear against them. Better to keep his eyes closed and his mind shut¡­

    But they had not travelled far beyond the last house when a terrible sound rent the air. It was like the horrible wail of an air-raid siren, a terrifying howl that increased in pitch before sinking low to a menacing warble. The sound was repeated again and then again, until the very ground shook with the deafening roar. Looking frantically around, James was shocked to discover that no one else appeared to have reacted to it.

    ¡®What¡¯s that horrible sound?¡¯ he asked.

    ¡®There is no sound,¡¯ Tavin replied curtly.

    ¡®I can hear it now!¡¯ James shouted in alarm.

    Twisting his head around, he gazed to the edge of the forest where the sound appeared to issue.

    Less than a mile to the north, the forest was in motion. At first he thought the movement was merely the wind billowing the heavy curtains of leaves at the forest¡¯s edge. But with a puzzled shake of his head, he promptly dismissed the idea. As strange as it seemed, it was more as though the trees were un-knitting themselves from one another; bending and splintering onto the lush meadow that should have been beyond its reach¡­

    ¡®Tavin, look!¡¯ James pleaded.

    ¡®What is it now, Jame?¡¯ Tavin replied with frustration.

    But when Tavin turned to where he was pointing, James felt the other man tense beneath him. His reply came in the form of a shout, a single word that made his blood run suddenly cold.

    ¡®Weevil!¡¯

    James¡¯ heart quickened as he looked back to where the movement continued to flicker against the distant line of trees. A mass of spindly shapes were gathering, their movements oily and slick within the shadows of the trees. The things appeared apprehensive to leave the shelter of the forest, but as their numbers grew they gained momentum like a dark flood building against a fragile dam.

    ¡®Back to the village!¡¯ Leander screamed, drawing a brace of arrows from the quiver at her hip.

    Tavin moved with impressive speed despite his burden, and James was left to gaze in fascinated horror as the creatures came pouring across the meadow.

    The things were grotesque; wrinkled and misshapen, with blackened flesh like diseased bark covering their bodies. At times, they resembled skeletal men ambling on thin legs and then they were more like spiders, tumbling and cart-wheeling in a frenzy of movement. Their limbs were long and sinewy, tapering down to points that gouged the meadow grass like knives in soft flesh. And as they drew ever nearer, their distorted screams likewise stabbed the air.

    ¡®Jaaame! Jaaaaame! Jaaaaaaaaaaaame!¡¯

    James shuddered at hearing what appeared to be the monsters¡¯ attempts at calling his name. Somehow these filthy abominations knew who he was!

    ¡®They¡¯re coming for me!¡¯ James screamed, as Tavin lowered him onto the grass within the circle of granite stones.

    ¡®They come for us all,¡¯ Tavin replied breathlessly.

    ¡®But they¡¯re calling my name!¡¯ James pleaded.

    Tavin looked at him uncertainly, before taking up his bow.

    ¡®Weevil do not speak, they scream,¡¯ Tavin replied, his frown deepening. ¡®Stay close to Torrinth.¡¯

    Torrinth appeared at his side as Tavin raced forward, taking up a position beside Leander and Fen, whose bows were already pulled back across the grim set of their faces. The old man¡¯s sword came into his hand as he calmly watched the screaming monsters sprint from between the houses.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    The air thrummed as the three archers released their drawn bows loosing arrows into the seething mass. Weevil tumbled to the ground with arrows in their heads, necks and what passed for torsos, but the wave of blackened bodies continued to pour forth, their nimble limbs propelling them over their fallen numbers with terrifying ease.

    The monsters danced gleefully to the edge of the stone circle, their movement upon their strange limbs now seeming more confident, even graceful, as they drew closer. James winced as more arrows whistled over his head, the first of the creatures to enter the ring of stones crumpling lifelessly to the ground.

    Finally, Kirrin and Wellin drew their swords and stepped calmly forward to engage the wave of monsters. Despite the horror of the clamouring horde they betrayed not a hint of fear. As the first of them tumbled into their path, their gleaming blades cut them down, showering the air in gouts of black blood.

    The weevil screamed their rage, thrusting their blade-like limbs at the two men like bony lances. But each time, the men deftly danced between them, severing the limbs of the creatures like branches chopped from misshapen trees. Even so, the sheer number of weevil threatened to overwhelm them, and slowly they were pushed back towards the line of houses at their rear.

    ¡®Torrinth!¡¯ Kirrin yelled as he quickly cut down two more weevil.

    James gazed up in terror as Torrinth roughly grabbed the loose fabric of his robes and dragged him backwards. The archers drew their swords and leapt forward to join the fray as the old man paused before the entrance to a house. Turning his hard eyes on James, he nodded once before shoving him through the heavy curtain and into the darkness beyond.

    ***

    James shivered in the gloom as the muffled sounds of battle intruded from beyond the thin walls of the house. It was a relief to be rid of the horrible sight of the monsters, and yet, not seeing them was somehow worse. Kirrin¡¯s stoic voice continued to contest with the screams of the attacking weevil as he gave terse commands in the defence of the stone circle, but against their deafening noise his voice sounded unbearably feeble.

    James dragged himself to the back of the circular room, seeking to be as far away from the screams and shouts as possible. His cloth sack trailed behind him, loosing blue apples that rolled drunkenly across the floor. Reaching the far wall, he laced his hands tightly around his knees and began to rock backwards and forwards.

    ¡®They don¡¯t exist, they don¡¯t exist, they don¡¯t exist,¡¯ he repeated to himself hysterically.

    In a vain attempt to steady his panic he surveyed the gloomy interior of the room, seeking the mundane and ordinary as a tonic to the horrors he had so recently witnessed. The floor was fashioned from concentric circles of polished wood, culminating in the blackened remains of a fire pit at its centre. High above, a small opening provided the only light into the room, a fall of golden sunlight illuminating the remains of a hastily abandoned meal. His mind involuntarily dredged up the memory of the slaughtered family he had helped to cut down from the trees. He imagined them sitting around a similar table, their carefree smiles evaporating on their faces as the screaming monsters descended upon them.

    The light inside the room dimmed.

    James eyes rounded upon the hole in the roof but the circle of blue sky remained clear. The sounds of battle seemed to grow nearer and James looked back down to the far door. At any moment, he expected the heavy curtain to be flung aside as the murderous creatures poured inside. But somehow the warriors beyond the thin walls were holding them at bay.

    When the light in the room dimmed a second time, he jerked his head back to the circle of blue above him. He hoped it was just a passing bird or the wind-swept branch of the willow tree beside the house. But what he saw instead made his mouth run dry. A long, thin object slid silently into the room, followed swiftly by another and then another, like the crooked legs of a spider emerging from its nest. The room was plunged into momentary darkness as a wizened black body emerged through the hole like something squeezed from a foul tap. The weevil hung from the ceiling for a moment as two piercing blue eyes opened in its misshapen head. Its cruel mouth sneered, baring teeth like shards of blackened glass.

    James¡¯ arms hopelessly swept the floor at his sides, desperately seeking weapons that were not there. The thing hanging above him seemed to take pleasure in the display for it began to chuckle, a rasping, guttural sound that set his teeth on edge. At last, his hand fell upon his cloth sack and he frantically opened it, pulling out bundles of food and scattering the last of the blue fruit across the room.

    ¡®Jaaame! Jaaame! Jaaame!¡¯ the creature rasped as it dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

    It crouched for a moment within its five spindly limbs; a bony cage surrounding the bloated husk of its body.

    ¡®No pointies! No pointies!¡¯ the weevil cackled as it slowly unfurled its spindly legs.

    James screamed for help but the terrific sounds of battle continuing to rage outside the house completely smothered his plea. The monster crept forward, continuing its guttural laugh from somewhere deep within its throat.

    His hands again sought the insides of the sack, as though hope could only be finally extinguished when it was completely empty. His hand clutched at something hard and he drew out an object wrapped in green cloth. The weevil paid no attention to his find, continuing to laugh as though these futile actions only heightened the enjoyment of its impending kill.

    ¡®Make bones come out of you! Red bones! Red bones!¡¯

    The weevil was now salivating, a thick cord of drool hanging from its gaping maw.

    James pulled the cloth from the bundle and looked down at the object in his hands. For a moment, he merely stared at it, his eyes unable to register the thing now sitting between his fingers. But then understanding dawned and he held the slender blade aloft. It was the very same dagger Tavin had crafted from the branch of willowing only the morning before. How it had come to be in his possession was a mystery, but he desperately raised it before him all the same.

    When the weevil finally registered the threat, its arms and legs suddenly scrambled for purchase upon the polished floor. Clumsily, it lurched forward, its eyes now fierce blue diamonds in its black head.

    ¡®Hidden pointy!¡¯ it screamed with rage.

    James clutched the dagger between his hands and held it aloft as the monster launched itself forward, its sharp blade-like limbs aimed for his head. But, as the monster left the ground a terrific explosion of sound erupted from above the house. It was the sound of the demonic siren that had heralded the weevil from the forest, a resonant boom that seemed to thump the air from his lungs.

    The monster¡¯s eyes grew wide with fear, its limbs suddenly flailing in the air, missing James¡¯ head by inches. As the weevil fell upon him, James raised the dagger in awkward defence, the handle bucking as its vile bulk descended upon him. There was a moment of resistance against the blade and then its entire length sank into its tough hide. The hideous body convulsed and shook with its impaling, a slew of black blood covering James in sudden warmth.

    ¡®I sorry master, I sorry!¡¯ the creature babbled as it bled to death.

    James tried vainly to scramble from under the body as it fell, but the beast¡¯s leaden weight pressed upon him, squashing him against the hard floor. His breath came in quick pants as he tried to roll the dead carcass off him, but the monster¡¯s pointed feet were now impaled in the wooden floor, pinning him to the ground.

    As though from far away, he realised that the sounds of battle beyond the house were drawing to an end. A distant part of his mind wondered which side had won, but as the heavy silence descended, all was becoming black¡­

    There was a sudden flare of white light and then strong hands were reaching forward to lift the dead creature from him. He drew in a deep, painful breath and looked up into Tavin¡¯s wide smile. The young man¡¯s face was splattered with black blood like smears of oil, but the smile growing beneath it won through the gore like sunlight breaking between dark clouds. Offering his hand, the young man pulled him easily to his feet.

    With a gleeful chuckle, Tavin slapped him on the shoulder and laughed.

    ¡®Jame, slayer of weevil!

 14 - Hunted

    James blinked sunlight from his eyes as he emerged from the house. His legs were trembling, his body covered in a black cowl of the creature¡¯s blood; a foul-smelling substance more akin to sap than blood.

    The gore-splattered interior of his near disembowelment had been bad enough, but the scene that greeted him beyond the door was altogether worse. Where moments before there had been the peaceful emptiness of the village green, was now the scene of a massacre. The ground was littered with dead weevil, the lush green now covered in an oil slick of black. Fen and Leander walked between the innumerable bodies, stooping now and then to retrieve arrows; their shafts pulled with difficulty, as though embedded not within flesh but the tough bark of fallen trees. Like Tavin, their faces were smeared with splatters of black, their tarnished armour gouged with deep furrows as though clawed by bears.

    Leander suddenly looked up from where she knelt beside another of the grotesque bodies and fixed her cold eyes upon James. Discarding a broken arrow, she walked briskly forward, her frowning gaze passing between the dagger still clasped in his hand, and Tavin, who stood sheepishly at his side. When she reached them, James expected the dagger to be roughly torn from his hand, but instead she offered her open palm. With his hand still trembling violently, he prised his fingers from the bloodied handle and placed it into her hand.

    ¡®What happened?¡¯ she asked, addressing Tavin as she absently wiped the blade across her thigh.

    ¡®A weevil entered the house,¡¯ Tavin replied with a grin, ¡®and Jame slayed it!¡¯

    ¡®With this?¡¯ Leander said doubtfully.

    ¡®It was pure luck,¡¯ James admitted meekly. ¡®When the monster heard that terrible siren it panicked and fell on it.¡¯

    ¡®What are you talking about?¡¯ she said, turning to face him at last.

    ¡®You mean you didn¡¯t hear it?¡¯ he cried. ¡®It was the same sound I heard when the weevil emerged from the forest. But it was louder, much louder!¡¯

    ¡®Jame said something of the sort when I carried him earlier,¡¯ Tavin said uncertainly.

    ¡®The mind plays tricks upon the weak in times of battle,¡¯ Leander said, absently toying with the dagger in her hand. ¡®There was no such sound to be heard.¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯ James spluttered.

    ¡®But nothing,¡¯ Leander interrupted.

    The young woman¡¯s jaw was tight, her eyes for a moment focused only upon the dagger in her hand. She appeared to be pondering something to herself before she finally flipped the blade in one deft movement that offered him its handle.

    ¡®The blade you should not have possessed,¡¯ she said, her eyes narrowed as though still questioning the wisdom of returning it. ¡®It appears to be yours now. Keep it clean and try not to kill yourself with it.¡¯

    James hesitated, unsure if this wasn¡¯t some cruel trick. But when at last he tentatively took the weapon from her, the young woman turned to confront Tavin.

    ¡®Retrieve your sword Tavin,¡¯ she said, impatiently motioning to where he had hurriedly plunged it into the ground before entering the house. ¡®We have been delayed enough. Save what arrows you may, but be ready to leave as soon as Kirrin returns.¡¯

    Tavin visibly relaxed as Leander stalked away, hurriedly retrieving his sword from the soft ground. Taking the blunt blade from his neck, he proceeded to skim the blood and dirt from its length, revealing the unblemished black beneath.

    ¡®What name will you give your blade?¡¯ Tavin grinned, returning his sword to the clasp upon his hip. ¡®You like to name such things, do you not?¡¯

    James ignored the question but instead held out his hand. The young man regarded him with confusion but repeated the gesture. As James¡¯ hand clasped his, the young man¡¯s smile returned.

    ¡®A plain¡¯s custom!¡¯ Tavin laughed delightedly, pumping his hand enthusiastically up and down.

    ¡®Thank you for giving me that dagger,¡¯ James said, wincing from Tavin¡¯s prolonged handshake. ¡®You saved my life, whatever that means in a dream.¡¯

    Tavin¡¯s frown displayed his puzzlement.

    ¡®Surely I am glad that I fashioned the dagger and that it served you so well. But it was not I who placed it upon your person.¡¯

    ¡®Well who the hell else would have done it?¡¯ James said, finally disengaging his hand from Tavin¡¯s.

    ¡®I assumed you took it,¡¯ Tavin said, his grin widening.

    A shrill scream made them both suddenly glance to the side, where a grim-faced Torrinth stood amongst the twisted carnage of dead weevil. With one quick stab of his sword, the old man silenced the last monster still drawing breath upon the battlefield.

    James¡¯ gaze lingered on the tangle of bodies; the raised heap of corpses that formed a crescent within which the warriors had fought for their lives. Forgetting for a moment the mystery of how the dagger had come into his possession, he looked upon the gruesome scene with growing suspicion.

    ¡®Where¡¯s the rest of them?¡¯ he asked.

    Tavin¡¯s face held a look of detached concern as he replied, ¡®The weevil fled.¡¯

    ¡®They fled?¡¯ James repeated in disbelief. ¡®Why would they flee?¡¯

    ¡®Weevil are cowards at heart,¡¯ Tavin replied with a shrug. ¡®Perhaps the sight of so many of their dead made them reconsider their actions.¡¯

    James shook his head as an unsettling thought occurred to him. Before he had been bundled into the house he had seen the countless sea of monsters, relentlessly shedding their lives upon the blades of the warriors. The ability of his companions in battle was unquestionable, yet it was obvious, even to him, that they could not have endured for much longer against such numbers.

    Something had made the monsters retreat.

    He remembered again the shock of that great sound exploding above the house and the look of sudden panic that had gripped the weevil that had been about to kill him. If it was fear that made them flee, it was not the fear engendered by the warriors who had dealt such swift death to their numbers. That awful sound, the sound that no one else had heard, that had been the source of their fear¡­

    James¡¯ train of thought faltered when he saw Wellin, gazing out across the orchards beyond the crooked spires of the village. Something about the man¡¯s posture seemed strange, his familiar upright bearing oddly skewed to one side. At first, he thought perhaps the man still grieved for the dead villagers so recently laid to rest upon the orchard floor. But just as he was about to look away, Wellin toppled to the ground.

    ¡®Fen!¡¯ James croaked. ¡®Something¡¯s wrong with Wellin!¡¯

    Fen, Leander and Tavin sprinted past him as Wellin struggled onto his haunches. Bracing against his sword like a crutch he glared back at James, his cold eyes pinning him where he stood.

    ¡®It is but a scratch,¡¯ Wellin muttered through gritted teeth.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    He tried to stand but Fen¡¯s hand pressed to his shoulder, keeping him seated. With a frown, she reached between two torn plates of his wooden armour, causing him to hiss a breath through clenched teeth. When she withdrew her hand, she regarded the slick of red covering her pale skin like a scarlet glove; between two of her fingers, she held what looked like a long, jagged thorn. Her face flinched with concern and she turned to look into the man¡¯s watering eyes.

    ¡®It is more than just a scratch, Wellin. You were struck by a poisoned spur.¡¯

    Tavin¡¯s face grew pale as he hurriedly removed the blunt blade from his neck and cut a series of overlapping wooden plates from his brother¡¯s armour. The wound revealed beneath was already darkening; vivid purple tendrils which laced into the depths of his pale flesh like black ink swirling into milk.

    Fen turned her grave face to Leander as she reached for a vial of spring water from her belt.

    ¡®The wound itself is not fatal,¡¯ she said, dousing the oily water across the weeping wound, ¡®but the poison has already spread. I can slow its progress but it will not easily be arrested. Unless we can find a wellspring soon¡­¡¯

    Fen was cut short as Kirrin came sprinting from behind a row of green-thatched houses.

    ¡®We are discovered!¡¯ he gasped, struggling not to shout his warning into the brooding silence. ¡®Five score men enter the meadow from the northwest.¡¯

    The tall warrior lurched to a halt when he saw his stricken brother and dropped to the ground beside him, resting his blood-stained hand upon his shoulder. He spat on the ground with contempt before his voice grated once more from his strained lips, ¡®Kabavar are among them.¡¯

    James felt his legs weaken as a wave of nausea swept over him. At last he realised the terrible truth. The weevil had not retreated as Tavin had assumed, they had been disengaged. The terrible cost of their innumerable deaths had merely been served to delay their escape!

    Weak with fear, he watched Leander wrestle with this new threat, heaped upon a quest that had appeared doomed from the outset.

    ¡®Kirrin, Tavin,¡¯ Leander barked, ¡®take your brother between you.

    ¡®I can carry myself,¡¯ Wellin replied gruffly.

    ¡®You will do as I say!¡¯ Leander growled, nodding to his brothers, who quickly pulled him from the ground.

    ¡®We will strike south and lead the barbarians back into our forest. Then we shall see who has the greater chance of leaving it alive.¡¯

    Faced with such overwhelming odds, her bravado seemed all the more absurd, yet her fierce words galvanised the shocked warriors all the same. Torrinth promptly hoisted James upon his back, and with the other men guiding their wounded brother, they fled back through the empty village and into the orchard.

    The great sun was lower now, casting long shadows through the fruit trees and the many bodies now at rest beneath them. In the half-light, the villagers appeared to be asleep; only the pallid gleam of their skin spoke of their true fate.

    As James took his first stumbling steps back into the dense forest beyond the orchard, he stole a final glance across the swathe of meadow behind them. Upon the shifting sea of yellow grass, the black smudge he had first spied from the watchtower of Galendar now lay before them like a drawing tide. And there, at its centre, like a pale fire blazing on a dark horizon, was a figure gliding through the air.

    Bettiny had found them at last.

    ***

    Throughout the night they were hounded by the barbarous sounds of their pursuers. The air rang with their harsh voices and the clash of their metal blades as they cleaved aside the obstinate arms of the forest.

    Upon the old man¡¯s back, James flinched at every sound, twisting his head from side to side to peer hopelessly into the darkness that surrounded them. At any moment, he expected the dark tide of men to crash upon them, but somehow they remained just out of reach.

    After what felt like an eternity, the breaking of dawn slowly lifted the curtain of night from the forest. Around him, the ghostly apparitions of his companions slowly materialised out of the gloom. Their pace had not slackened in the least, yet they all seemed in some way transformed by the passage of night. Their graceful movements had become oddly blunted, their faces for the first time exposing their growing exhaustion.

    From where James wearily clung to Torrinth¡¯s back, he watched Leander stalking ahead of them. He was familiar now with the rigidity that had slowly crept through her since first learning of Galendar¡¯s fate, but the hours of darkness had imparted something more. Each step she took forward was like another galling step in retreat. Her body yearned for the excuse to turn and face her enemy, to exact some form of vengeance for the atrocities committed against her people. For some unfathomable reason, it was Leander¡¯s growing fury which terrified him more than the pursuing men so intent upon their lives.

    As the day drew on, the sounds of their pursuit finally began to recede behind them. Yet it wasn¡¯t until night had fallen once more that Leander finally allowed the party to break for camp. Heavy clouds had swept in from the north, and now without firelight or even the scant light of stars, the darkness of night was complete. The injurious sounds of the enemy might have gone but the silence left in its absence was immeasurably worse.

    Too exhausted even for sleep, James lay shivering in his damp blanket as he listened bleakly to the hushed conversation between his exhausted companions.

    According to Kirrin, the skill of the pursuing trackers ¨C or ¡°wayfarers¡± as they called them ¨C could not possibly account for the way they were now being followed. Despite his and Fen¡¯s best efforts to waylay their enemy, they were being pursued through the dense forest as though following a trailing thread.

    James sensed the other man tilting his head to the sky, directing his next words as though to the shifting leaves above their heads.

    ¡®The Kabavar¡¯s sight fails in darkness, but by day we are like mice before the eyes of a hawk.¡¯

    ***

    The next day dawned grey and heavy with the scent of rain. Wellin had worsened during the night, and now lay shaking uncontrollably upon the ground. For the first time, James noticed the desperation twisting its way onto the warriors¡¯ faces. But it was a desperation derived not of fear, but of confusion, as though none could believe that they could be hunted through the forest that was their home.

    After a miserable breakfast of sour blue apples and stale bread, the distant blast of a horn cut through the grey light of morning. Like a beast suddenly awakened, the violent sounds of their pursuers carried upon the air. For one palpable moment, Leander appeared poised to face their assailants, but with one last defiant glare through the trees, she led them on into the dew-laden forest.

    Around noon, they happened upon a denser swathe of forest, which greeted them from out of the sparser woodland like a towering cliff. The trees reminded James of pine, but once again these were monstrous deviations from anything he had ever experienced in his own world. Conical in shape, they rose more than two hundred feet into the air, bristling with dense clusters of black needles. The wall of black trees looked foreboding, but without hesitation, Leander led them inside.

    The spaces between the trees were narrow and claustrophobic, the dense clusters of black pine needles forming a low ceiling above their heads. To James, it felt as though they were now travelling beneath the ground; the pockets of space allowed to them by the prodigious trees more akin to caves than forest. In the perpetual twilight, the sounds of their footfalls were dampened by the thick layers of dead pine needles littering the ground. Other than the harsh sounds of their breathing, the forest was completely silent.

    When the rain finally began to fall, the trees spared them the worst of the deluge, but it wasn¡¯t long before an internal rain of heavy droplets fell from the trees themselves. The rain was cold and seemed to sap what little energy remained of the warrior¡¯s strength, but still they marched on.

    It was sometime in early evening when Kirrin finally brought the welcome news that the pursuing force had finally made a mistake. Without the aid of their Kabavar spying from above, they had fallen for the most obvious trick and had begun following an animal trail that threaded southwest. No one spoke it, but an overwhelming sense of relief seemed to etch itself into each of their faces.

    However, when they finally broke for camp hours later, James was dismayed when Leander informed them that a campfire would not be lit. When he protested, cold and shivering within his sodden robes, Leander bit back with her usual venomous retort.

    ¡®Need I remind you how we were discovered by the Kabavar the last time we made fire?¡¯ she snapped. ¡®You may have a fire of your own, but it will not be within fifty leagues of the rest of us!¡¯

    Fen approached Leander and spoke quietly to her, pointing to where Wellin lay shivering uncontrollably upon the forest floor. Tavin was bent across him slowly shaking his head, his hands holding onto the trembling body as though to bring it to rest.

    ¡®What would you have me do?¡¯ Leander replied, her voice for the first time betraying a note of desperation. ¡®You know as well as I what folly it would be to make fire when Kabavar are abroad!¡¯

    Kirrin had been absent for hours, but when he finally returned his stoic face was wearing an uncharacteristic smile. Speaking quietly with Leander, he pointed behind him into the gloom. The anguished expression that had marred her face these past few days seemed somehow to falter, and after a moment of hesitation, she nodded her head decisively.

    The tall warrior made his way over to his brothers and together with Tavin they lifted their brother between them.

    Speaking hurriedly with Fen, Leander pointed to where Kirrin had emerged from the forest moments before. The older woman frowned, but it wasn¡¯t long before a wide smile sprang to her lips.

    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ James muttered uneasily.

    Fen swiftly disappeared between the trees, followed closely by Kirrin and his brothers. Leander remained motionless where she stood, regarding James across the dripping bows of trees. In the failing light he could not read the expression upon her face.

    ¡®Well?¡¯ she said, turning to follow the others. ¡®Do you want a roof over your head or not?¡¯

 15 - Shelter

    The small dwelling loomed out of the forest, surrounded on all sides by the towering walls of the black trees. It was more ruin than house, a ramshackle building that had long since been reclaimed by the forest. The sagging thatched roof was buried beneath years of fallen pine needles, the walls warped and twisted out of shape. And, within the remains of what once might have been a garden, there now lay an impenetrable tangle of thorns.

    When James and Leander rejoined the others, they were all stood about in the rain silently observing the house. Fen stood alone before the misshapen outline of the door, her hands pressed firmly against its gnarled surface. Rainwater slewed from the roof to fall heavily upon her head, yet she appeared unmindful of its insistent patter.

    ¡®What¡¯s she doing?¡¯ James asked tiredly. ¡®Why doesn¡¯t she just open the door?¡¯

    Leander scowled as she strode over to the other woman, the rain slicking her braided hair.

    ¡®For once, just once, would you keep your ignorant mouth shut?¡¯

    James flinched at Leander¡¯s unexpected outburst and turned to Tavin, whose trembling brother was once more hoisted across his shoulders. Despite his brother¡¯s grave condition, the finding of the house had raised Tavin¡¯s spirits, bringing a return of his irrepressible enthusiasm.

    ¡®Jame, the house has been empty for many turns,¡¯ he whispered. ¡®Fen attempts to awaken it.¡¯

    ¡®Wake it up?¡¯ James frowned. ¡®What the hell are you talking about?¡¯

    ¡®The house sleeps,¡¯ Tavin replied patiently. ¡®Unless it can be awoken, we will not be entering its walls tonight.¡¯

    James glanced back at the ruined house in confusion as the cold rain fell heavily about them. Rather than help Fen open the door, the others were patiently waiting, as though expecting the empty house to miraculously open its door in greeting. Shaking his head in annoyance, he sank his head into his wet hands and tried to control his shivering. Whatever bizarre form of Gelder etiquette prevented them from just walking into the abandoned house was getting them all well and truly soaked.

    A loud wooden crack reverberated through the patter of rain.

    James jerked upright and peered fearfully into the gloom of the forest. But when the sound came a second time, he drew his eyes from the forest and looked instead upon the ruins of the house. Hurriedly wiping the rain from his face, he watched in disbelief as the house began to transform before his eyes. The change was slow but unmistakable. Accompanied by the creaks and groans of straining wood, the twisted walls began to shift and straighten. The broken roof trembled as the fallen eaves slowly pushed towards the sky, inflating from within as though pushed by unseen hands. In the failing light of the clearing, it might have been possible to discount these changes as tricks of the mind, but then something happened to dispel any possible doubt. For, behind the house¡¯s mottled windows, a feeble golden light began to glow¡­

    At last the door, pressed so tightly to Fen¡¯s flattened palms, popped open with a resounding crack, spilling an outpouring of light into the clearing.

    Fen opened her eyes and smiled tiredly, her face a sickly white oval in the growing darkness.

    ¡®It did not wish to wake so quickly,¡¯ she said, as Leander took her arm. ¡®But it welcomes us now.¡¯

    The women entered the house, followed closely by Tavin and his brother, as James cautiously approached the door. Once again, he realised how foolish he had been to second-guess this new reality in which he was trapped. As crazy as it seemed, it had not been some obscure form of etiquette on the part of his companions that had delayed their entry but the house itself. As Torrinth closed the door behind him, leaving himself and Kirrin to slink back into the forest, James recalled something Bettiny had once told him. It hadn¡¯t made sense at the time, but having witnessed the miracle Fen had just performed, he was now halfway to believing it had been true: the House of Galendar had not been built but grown by Lord Galen.

    With shocked disbelief, James craned his head to the undulating ceiling, where a curious trailing plant draped bunches of glowing berries like a grapevine laden with light bulbs. The light was feeble, but compared to the darkness that grew steadily around them, its miraculous glow was nevertheless comforting.

    The interior of the house was far larger than its walls had suggested. Roughly semi-circular in shape, its buckled walls supported a sagging roof above a central fire pit. At one time, a number of partitions had divided the house into separate rooms, but these fragile walls had long-since decayed into tatters, leaving behind a large, open space. The air was musty with damp, the floor buckled by roots tracing meandering paths across its once smooth surface. It was by no means a palace, but next to the wilderness beyond its walls, it might as well have been.

    James sank to the damp floor and watched Tavin work within an old fire pit strewn with old ash and cobwebs. Before long, a small fire built from a store of the white seed pods blossomed into existence, filling the room with dancing light and the fragrant aroma of wood smoke.

    When the fire had gathered enough heat, Leander used her blunt blade to remove the shroud of Wellin¡¯s armour, delicately slicing off each of the overlapping plates before feeding them one by one into the fire. As the firelight played across the man¡¯s pale flesh, it revealed for the first time the frightening extent of the poison¡¯s progress. Where just two days before the purple stain had been no larger than the width of a hand, it was now a darkening blight that consumed half his body. Yet, despite his grave condition, the warmth of the fire seemed at least to lessen his shivering.

    As Tavin moved between the few circular windows shuttering them against the dark, James noticed something strange about the walls now illuminated in the flickering light of the fire. He was not surprised to see that they bore carved designs like those that had decorated the walls of Galendar, but something about these was wrong. Here the carvings of wild flowers and curious deer-like creatures were distorted, their forms exaggerated and crude.

    When Tavin passed by, James asked if the carvings had perhaps been made by a child. The young warrior chuckled and thoughtfully turned to regard the walls himself.

    ¡®No child could imprint the walls with such designs,¡¯ he said with a shake of his head. ¡®The distortions you see are a consequence of time.¡¯

    Placing his hand upon the undulating wall, he gently probed the smooth grain beneath his fingers.

    ¡®If left untended, the patterns imparted by the melder are eventually lost to the caprice of nature. It is perhaps only ten turns since the melder of this house departed from its door, and yet the design already begins to slip from its walls. Given enough time, Fen could restore the carvings to their true form, but for tonight¡¯s purposes that will not be necessary.¡¯

    James glanced to the fire, wondering when Leander was going to put a halt to their conversation. She had turned out her quiver of arrows and was methodically inspecting each in turn; bringing the arrow to her eye before correcting imperfections only she could see. Occasionally, she tossed a broken arrow into the fire, where it burned with a bright, green flame. Leander had always been the first to deny him his many questions, but if she objected to what Tavin was now divulging, she had decided to remain silent.

    ¡®The carvings tell our stories, our history,¡¯ Tavin continued, ¡®everything we know and cherish is contained within the walls of our homes.¡¯

    Tavin ran his slender hand across the flank of a large stag, its great antlers curling together in a complex pattern above its regal head.

    ¡®This carving tells the story of Derredin, the spirit of the White Wood.¡¯

    James frowned, casting his eyes to the glint of dull metal peeking from the top of the young man¡¯s armour.

    ¡®So the designs were made with the blunt blade?¡¯ he asked uncertainly.

    Tavin grinned, absently touching the concealed blade at his throat.

    ¡®Perhaps the blunt blade could be used in such a fashion, but it would take many turns to accomplish such an endeavour. No, these patterns were transferred directly to the shell by the melder¡¯s mind. The one who melded this house was by no means an amateur, but compared to Fen¡¯s craft, or indeed that of Lord Galen, it is perhaps somewhat crude in comparison.¡¯If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Tavin turned, his smile broadening.

    ¡®But it is still lovely all the same, do you not think?¡¯

    James closed his mouth from where it had hung open and considered the young man¡¯s question.

    ¡®I think it¡¯s¡­ unbelievable.¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps then, it is time for you to start believing,¡¯ Tavin said, slapping him playfully upon the shoulder.

    James noticed that Fen appeared to be still within the trance that had begun with the opening of the house. Her eyes were glazed, her hands tracing the carved walls as though searching for something hidden beneath their undulating forms.

    ¡®What¡¯s she doing?¡¯ James asked, sitting beside the fire and warming his cold hands.

    Leander sighed loudly, tossing another broken arrow into the flames.

    ¡®Fen searches for the wellspring,¡¯ Tavin replied, anxiously following her progress to the far side of the room. ¡®For, where there are Gelder dwellings, a wellspring will never be far away.¡¯

    Moments later, Fen came to an abrupt halt. In the gloom, her arms slowly rose from her sides, her hands coming to rest upon the distorted carving of two intertwined trees. There was an expectant pause, before a hollow cracking sound reverberated through the walls of the house.

    To James¡¯ astonishment, he saw that another door had miraculously opened in the side of the wall.

    Turning to face them, Fen smiled tiredly from the shadows.

    ¡®The wellspring lies beyond,¡¯ she said, nodding her head curtly.

    It might have been a trick of the flickering light or merely his own overwrought imagination, but for the briefest of moments James thought he saw Leander smile. The moment was fleeting at best, but its affect upon him was profound. It was a smile of gratitude and relief, a smile that momentarily swept away the veneer of anger and resentment that clung so resolutely to her face. He realised then that he had been granted a rare glimpse of the carefree woman she might once have been, before the cruel scars that covered her body, before the untold hardships she had suffered. The woman he saw before him was no longer cruel or vindictive but warm and sensitive, a beautiful woman that made his heart ache and his breath halt within his chest.

    But as quickly as the smile had alighted upon her face, was it gone, replaced by the grim set of her determination. Without conferring, the two women proceeded to remove the rest of Wellin¡¯s damp clothes, before helping each other out of their own. As the shells of wooden armour slipped from their bodies and clattered to the floor, James once more had cause to doubt what he was seeing.

    He flinched when a hand alighted upon his shoulder and turned to find Tavin grinning ruefully beside him, wagging his finger in admonishment.

    ¡®Remember where you are,¡¯ he muttered.

    Blushing furiously, James watched instead the flickering shadows projected upon the walls. The gentle curves of their naked bodies slipped across the carved walls as they lifted Welling between them and out through the newly-created door.

    ¡®What the hell are they doing?¡¯ James asked, when the door closed behind them. ¡®He should be kept by the fire, not taken for a bath!¡¯

    ¡®The vital waters of the wellspring will save my brother¡¯s life,¡¯ Tavin said, drawing a blackened cooking pot from his travel sack. ¡®Such miracles are possible in the forests of the Gelding. In time, you will know this to be true.¡¯

    ***

    By the time night had fallen, a bubbling pot of stew was sitting upon the fire.

    James looked nervously up at the dark hole of the chimney, remembering the weevil that had slinked down to end his life only two days before. As though reading his thoughts, Tavin spoke softly from where he carefully ladled stew into a small wooden bowl.

    ¡®Fear not, Jame,¡¯ he said, passing him the steaming bowl, ¡®weevil fear fire above all else. There will be no uninvited guests this night.¡¯

    When Tavin disappeared outside, carrying food for Kirrin and Torrinth, James was left alone beside the fire. In the stillness and quiet he slowly drank the delicious broth, letting his gaze return to the carved walls. After what Tavin had said about the nature of the carvings and the stories they contained, he studied them more intently, trying to read whatever meanings they might hold. But no matter how carefully he explored the distorted shapes and patterns he could discern no path into them.

    Finishing the last of the stew, he slowly got to his feet and made his way over to a far corner of the room where a steady trickle of rainwater still found its way inside. Here, one of the old interior walls was still standing, and as he absently rinsed the bowl beneath the makeshift tap, he leaned back against it. The fragile wall groaned under his weight and without warning crumpled to the ground.

    James stumbled backwards but remained on his feet as a cloud of dust rose into the damp air. He half expected Leander to poke her head through a window to reprimand him for what he had done, but what he saw instead behind the fallen wall made his breath catch in his throat. He inched backwards, the bowl toppling from his limp fingers. A cold sweat sprang out across his body as the beginnings of a scream crept laboriously up his throat. From out of the gloomy space he had uncovered, the contorted face of a weevil glared back at him. His heel caught upon the twisted roots snaking across the floor and he reeled backwards; his misbegotten scream thumped from his chest as he hit the ground. Scrambling on the floor, his wide eyes sought out the horrible monster that would soon be upon him. But, before he could draw another breath to call for help, the rational part of his mind asked why the monster had yet to move a muscle¡­

    Feeling foolish, but chuckling with relief nonetheless, he picked himself up off the floor and reclaimed the wooden bowl. He thanked his good fortune that he hadn¡¯t raised the alarm, for it hadn¡¯t been a monster lurking in the shadows, but yet another carving, animated by the mischievous flicker of firelight. With a relieved sigh, he made his way back to the fireside and propped himself up against the wall.

    For the first time in days he felt the satisfaction of a full stomach and the pleasant warmth of a fire. The sound of rain pattering the roof was calming and as his eyes grew heavy, he stared back at the harmless carving of the weevil. In the firelight, its warped form seemed to shimmer and weave amongst the shadows. He blinked his eyes as his vision blurred, the shapes and patterns seeming to dance before his eyes.

    At first, he believed he was finally dropping off to sleep, but as the imaginary forest slowly formed around him, he knew this was something altogether different.

    Somehow, he was beginning to read¡­

    It was a strange sensation because it had nothing to do with interpreting the myriad shapes and patterns that covered the wall. Nor did it derive directly from the carvings themselves. Rather, it was as though his mind had plunged into the very depths of the wall itself, leaving his body behind like an empty vessel. Beyond the wall, it was as though he inhabited yet another world; a world rendered in the browns and blacks of the carved walls. He stood on the edge of a vast, dark wood, illuminated by the flickering glow of the fire back inside the room. The distant patter of rain upon the roof still registered upon his senses, but slowly these sounds were replaced by others; the distant call of songbirds, the light rustling of summer leaves.

    Although still conscious of his body¡¯s immobility, he realised that with a simple gesture of his mind, he was able to move within the illusory space. Tentatively, he flexed his imaginary legs and began to walk through the forest, reading the story that had been woven between the trees¡­

    It wasn¡¯t long before he realised he knew the story, for it was one that had been told to him before. The story was enchanting, but also disquieting in its vivid depiction of the sorrow that accompanied the fair race¡¯s fall from grace. He watched in wonder as the misshapen weevil emerged from the dark forest of their changing, peering fearfully up at the sun like frightened children. Recalling Bettiny¡¯s telling of the story, James gingerly passed between the fleeing weevil, all of them frozen in poses of fear and self-loathing. If the story held any truth, then something had indeed changed to transform the weevil from the pitiable creatures he saw before him, to the savage and cruel monsters that had sought their lives only days before.

    Suddenly, from out of the depths of the forest, the incongruous bang of a slamming door shattered the quiet. The noise echoed through the imaginary world like a clap of thunder, causing the illusion to break into tatters around him. With a disorientating jolt he sprawled backwards, hitting his head on the hard wooden floor. As the dimly-lit room materialised around him, he looked up into Tavin¡¯s incredulous eyes.

    ¡®You were in the walls?¡¯ the young man asked in surprise.

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ James said, getting unsteadily back to his feet.

    ¡®You were reading?¡¯

    When James slowly nodded, Tavin turned to face the wall of grotesque carvings he had so recently inhabited.

    ¡®Incredible! I had no idea barbarians could read!¡¯

    ¡®I didn¡¯t know I could either,¡¯ James replied in bemusement, absently brushing the dust from his damp robes.

    ¡®It was your first time?¡¯

    James nodded and followed Tavin¡¯s eyes back to the distorted walls beside them.

    ¡®Ah, but it is an unfortunate story for your first reading,¡¯ the young man added wistfully. ¡®A very sad story indeed.¡¯

    James regarded the young man as the fragile threads of the reading lingered in his mind. As incredible as the experience of entering the walls had been, a disquieting thought had accompanied him on his return.

    ¡®Tavin, you¡¯re wrong about the weevil, they do speak,¡¯ he said, gazing distractedly back at the carving as though it might come alive again at any moment. ¡®The weevil that tried to kill me back at the village, it spoke to me. It even knew my bloody name!¡¯

    Tavin shifted uncomfortably as he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.

    ¡®Perhaps, as you say, they have a tongue of their own, but it is not for understanding,¡¯ Tavin replied, his rain-spattered face no longer displaying as much as a glimmer of a smile.

    ¡®As you said before, I speak perfect Gelding,¡¯ James added, a dull fear bristling the hairs on the nape of his neck. ¡®Perhaps I speak perfect weevil too.¡¯

    The idea, however repulsive, suddenly made perfect sense. After all, if he continued to maintain that this was all a construct of his own imagination, he should be able to understand everything that was said within it; even if the words spoken were those that issued from the mouths of monsters.

    The awkward silence brought about by James¡¯ admission was broken when Leander and Fen suddenly emerged from the arched doorway, supporting Wellin between them.

    Tavin¡¯s hand again came to James¡¯ rescue, turning his head to the wall as the naked women led Wellin back to the fire. Miraculously, the man appeared now to be half-conscious and walked between Fen and Leander with only slight assistance.

    ¡®He will recover,¡¯ Fen said, yawning as she pulled her undergarments around her. ¡®The poison was removed by the undergrowth, but he will be weak for some days to come.¡¯

    Once both women were fully dressed, Tavin threw his arms around Fen and hugged her tightly, his relief and gratitude returning his smile.

    Turning to James, he slapped him heartily upon the back.

    ¡®Come, friend, it is our turn to bathe. May the wellspring warm your bones and lighten your heavy heart!¡¯

 16 - Visions

    Naked and shivering, James followed Tavin through the newly-created door and out into a courtyard, hemmed-in by walls of shifting black needles. The pool lay at the centre of the clearing, a circle of unblemished black peeking from beneath the rotting remains of a thatched roof. Like the bathhouse of Galendar, an area of decking surrounded the pool¡¯s edge; its surface as buckled and twisted as the house beside it.

    Without the use of a pail to perform the symbolic gesture of introduction, James followed Tavin¡¯s example and cupped his hands at the pool¡¯s edge, splashing the oily water across his kneeling body. His breath caught in his throat as the icy cold bit into his flesh, but with the promise of the pool¡¯s warmth, he followed the young man beneath its surface. The initial cold quickly subsided and soon the inexplicable heat of the wellspring enveloped him. With a sigh of relief, he reclined his head against the smooth stones lining the pool, and breathed the damp aroma of moss into his lungs. The sound of the pattering rain filled the air with its music, and for once Tavin appeared content to remain silent.

    James peered warily into the darkness of the trees, their shifting movement conjuring sinister shapes in his imagination. After the past days of pursuit, it was baffling to him that his companions now appeared so at ease within their temporary shelter. He had said as much to Tavin as they had undressed back inside the house, and his unsettling reply still resounded in his head: ¡®My brother must rest before we brave the elements again,¡¯ Tavin had replied simply. ¡®If we are found, we are found. It boots nothing to worry about that which is beyond our control.¡¯

    Frowning, James gazed across at the young man, his pale face an indistinct smudge above the surface of the pool.

    ¡®Tavin?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, Jame?¡¯ the young man replied sleepily.

    ¡®Who¡¯s doing all this?¡¯

    Tavin remained silent, and for a while James assumed his question had been ignored like so many of the others he had asked over the past two weeks. But when the young man finally spoke, his reply caught him off guard.

    ¡®We do not know for certain.¡¯

    ¡®What do you mean you don¡¯t know?¡¯

    ¡®We know as much as any could know of someone, or should I say, some-thing, we have not yet seen with our own eyes,¡¯ Tavin replied guardedly. ¡®We are not wont to believe the tall-tales and rumours that spread like plagues before it.¡¯

    ¡®What damned rumours?¡¯ James barked. ¡®What the hell aren¡¯t you telling me?¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps before you ask any more of your questions, you should know that I have been forbidden to talk upon the subject,¡¯ the young man said, shifting uncomfortably beneath the water. ¡®Rest assured, that all of your many questions will be answered once we reach the Citadel.¡¯

    ¡®If we reach this damnable Citadel you mean!¡¯ James said, his hand angrily slapping the water.

    Tavin opened one eye and grinned ruefully across the water. Reflected light from a crack in the doorway glinted for a moment across the man¡¯s long hair, laying slick against his shoulders.

    ¡®I will say this much,¡¯ Tavin said, closing his eyes once more. ¡®The person, the thing, who pursues us across the leagues, does so from afar.¡¯

    ¡®And what the hell is that supposed to mean?¡¯ James snapped. ¡®I didn¡¯t ask for riddles! I want the bloody truth, damn it! Lord Galen said they were coming for me. I want to know who they are and what the hell they want!¡¯

    Tavin opened his eyes and sighed heavily, folding his arms across his chest in exasperation.

    ¡®The barbarians upon the central plains call him the Dread God, a supernatural being that was somehow awakened in the far reaches of the western realm. Some say that he resides within a tower that he cannot leave, a tower that touches the clouds and bruises the sky,¡¯ Tavin said, smiling grimly in the half-light.

    ¡®Now, tell me, does that sound like a rumour you would readily believe?¡¯

    For once, Tavin¡¯s infectious smile had no effect upon him. A creeping chill traced the bony ridge of his spine despite the continued warmth of the bath. He saw again the narrow walls of his half-remembered dream, the tunnel of stone that receded into the sky. Ever since the dream in the bathhouse of Galendar, he had assumed the curious circular room had been buried deep beneath the ground. But what if it wasn¡¯t? Could the room have instead been enclosed within the walls of a tower? An impossible tower that touched the clouds and bruised the sky?

    ¡®Where is this tower?¡¯ James asked, his voice rising above the insistent patter of rain.

    Tavin shook his head.

    ¡®Please be content for now that you are in the company of those who would keep you from such evil. In the meantime, please do not darken our friendship any further by pursuing these pointless questions.¡¯

    James slumped back against the side of the pool and closed his eyes firmly shut. The soothing calm that had initially been imparted by the pool was replaced now by a creeping dread. As much as he had desired to know who ¨C or what ¨C was pursuing him, he was beginning to wish he had never asked. Was the half-seen figure of his dream the same man who now so doggedly pursued them across this strange land? Try as he might, he could not reconcile the intimation of kindness and concern he had felt in his dream with that of the faceless entity that killed, tortured and mutilated innocent lives all around him.

    Taking another deep breath, he tried to clear these troubling thoughts from his head and focused instead upon the distant roll of thunder prowling through the forest like a restless animal. Sleep was the last thing he expected, but when it came it descended upon him suddenly, like a heavy cloak draped from the sky.

    ***

    A familiar sight of verdant green slowly resolved out of the darkness. Like wisps of smoke, the myriad colours of the garden swirled around him, the mighty tree of the watchtower rising like a flowing ribbon into the clouds above. He breathed the delightful perfume of its flora into his lungs and his heart rejoiced, for the House of Galendar had not been destroyed after all!

    There was a blur of movement, and then one of the curious transparent birds was perched upon his knee. It cocked its head to one side, its tiny black eye regarding him intently. James studied the creature with renewed wonder, the transparent feathers covering its slender body like tiny windows into the tangled assembly of its innards.

    As though in answer to his scrutiny, the bird¡¯s delicate body began to tremble. The furious blur of its tiny heart, pressed so tightly to its chest, began to slow before stopping altogether. By rights, the bird should have keeled over and died, but it remained where it stood like a stuffed toy perched on his knee.

    The disturbing sight brought the first twinge of disquiet to the tranquil scene. The garden seemed to sway and pitch as though gravity itself had become unseated. The tiny claws of the bird prickled his skin, its razor-sharp beak gleaming like the black blade of a knife.

    With growing unease, he peered more closely into the frozen interior of the bird. The last time he had seen such a creature, its stomach had been filled with the seeds and berries of its foraging. But the specimen he now studied revealed a diet that was an obscene violation of its true nature. Bloated to the point of rupture, its tiny stomach was filled with the bloodied flesh and bones of another creature.

    As though in retaliation for this grim discovery, the bird jerked its head forward, burying the sharp blade of its beak into his thigh. Before he had chance to react, a terrible paralysis swept through him, locking his body rigid. Only his eyes moved, and they were fixed back upon the bird, now sucking his blood like an oversized mosquito. Drinking greedily, it filled its stomach of bones with red until the already swollen organ burst, spilling its contents into the cavities that surrounded it.

    James¡¯ hands were like lead weights at his sides, but slowly he was able to raise an arm into the air. The movement was excruciatingly slow, but at last it hovered above the bird; now a freakish, bloated parody of the delicate creature it had been moments before. Trembling with revulsion, he closed his eyes and grasped its tiny head, causing it to pop like an overripe grape between his fingers. A warm slick of blood erupted across his leg as the sodden remains of the bird fell wetly to the ground.

    The killing of the bird sent the garden pitching and reeling around him in a dizzying blur. The paralysis was lifting, but so too was the bile seeking its way up his throat. Peering down at his wounded leg, he saw the severed beak of the bird protruding from his flesh like a black thorn. But the blood that slowly oozed from its hollow end was no longer his own. This fluid was thick and cold and as black as tar¡­

    James cried aloud as he awoke within the darkness of the pool. Frantically, he clawed at his thigh as though still trying to remove the severed beak of his dream. It wasn¡¯t until he had recovered his senses that he noticed Tavin was no longer with him. The storm had worsened whilst he had slept, and the rain now hammered its furious fists upon the thatched roof above his head.

    The lingering images of the nightmare filled him with a sudden foreboding which made him scramble for the edge of the pool. Bracing his hands upon the warped decking, he began to slowly pull himself from its cloying embrace. He was halfway out of the pool, when he felt something tangled around his leg. With a shudder, he thought of the tendrils of under-growth that lined the bottom of the bathing pool. Somehow one of the tentacle-like fronds must have become tangled around his thigh; perhaps inspiring the unpleasant dream he had just endured. Jerking his leg in revulsion, he tried to dislodge its slippery length, but to his horror it only seemed to tighten.

    Before he could do so much as draw another breath, he was violently pulled beneath the water. His hands blindly reached for the front which bound him, but as he sank deeper he felt other tendrils fasten about his limbs. In desperation, he began to flail in panic, but their grip only became more certain, the under-growth now squirming across his body like a pit of snakes. At last, his burning lungs gave up their futile struggle and he gasped a painful breath of the wellspring. The icy bite of its water seared his lungs as his limbs flailed uselessly around him.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    A shrill whistling filled his ears as the darkness suddenly erupted with light. The water and pool were gone, replaced by an expanse of sky as green as a stagnant pond. The wind tore tears from his startled eyes and tumbled his body end over end. If this was another dream, it was not of flight but of falling¡­

    There was a sickening crack as James hit the ground. The air was thumped from his lungs, his eyes bulging as he tried to draw breath. Clawing the dusty ground, his chest at last obeyed his plea to expand and gulped its searing heat inside him. Spluttering on the dust that accompanied the hot air, he caught a glimpse of his ruined legs. One lay folded to the side, jutting out at an obscene angle, the other almost cut in half by a splintered shard of bone which protruded from his leg like the gleaming blade of a knife. Fleeing from the sight of their ruin, the pain at last flooded through him making him retch.

    Spitting the cloying taste of blood and dust from his mouth, he stabbed his eyes at the desolate plane upon which he had fallen. The ground was hard and sun-scorched, littered with bones bleached by the remorseless heat of a tiny blue sun. The blasted ruins of some forsaken city rose out of the ground around him, charred and blackened by a conflagration that had melted stone into jagged shards of blackened glass.

    As he blinked against the sun¡¯s glare, he asked himself if this was yet another world his damaged mind had conjured up for him. Next to the gigantic sun of which he was now so familiar, this was like a tiny blazing marble in comparison. Yet, the incredible heat searing his skin was almost intolerable.

    On the edge of his vision, something compelled his head to turn despite the terrible pain reaching up from his destroyed legs. What he saw there was impossible, yet it lanced up into the sky with such unyielding solidity that it couldn¡¯t be anything but real. It was a tower, but a tower made by no mortal hand. The column of black soared into the sky from the horizon like a jagged thorn impaled in the earth. And the higher it climbed, the larger it became, until its top, bristling with dark towers and spiked prominences, filled half the sky with its impossible mass. It appeared at times to be on the verge of collapse, but then its stupendous solidity reasserted itself in his mind and it became a thing unbearable to behold.

    When the demonic siren suddenly detonated in the sky above, James screamed in terror. The deafening sound rolled like heavy waves through the air, driving doom-laden vibrations though his body and into the trembling earth. Clamping his hands to his ears, he tried in vain to block its roar from his senses, but the remorseless sound invaded every part of his being. It made the siren he had heard in the deserted village sound like a cheap imitation; this was a siren played for the end of the world, a rallying cry for the damned and demented.

    Before he knew what was happening, James realised he was moving. Painfully craning his neck upwards, he saw his own hands mechanically clawing at the ground, dragging him forward inch by inch. It was as though his body were at the mercy of a puppet master, and the maddening siren the strings that bound him. Helplessly, he watched as his hands and arms propelled him across the dusty ground, trailing the broken wreckage of his legs in their wake.

    At first, his body¡¯s compulsion to move was merely confounding, but when he saw the edge of the cliff to which they were bound he screamed again in terror. The only part of him left to his control was his head, which he now drove into the ground like an obscure anchor to his wayward body. His scalp grated against the hard earth, but his clawing hands were now feverishly working in unison, pulling him ever closer to his death. He could taste the blood his head was trailing behind it, but he gritted his teeth and pushed it harder still into the ground.

    When he felt his fingers grasp the edge of the cliff, he gasped as his head was dragged over the precipice. He waited breathlessly for the final shove that would send him tumbling to his death, but as he stared down at the rocks far below, his body was finally released from its possession.

    The siren was finally dying upon the air, but its lingering warble seemed to whisper parting words in his ear: behold, the fruits of my labour!

    With his breath wheezing in and out of his chest, he gazed out at the desolated vista his body had conspired to show him. Far below, a range of blasted foothills bordered a wide lake of shimmering white. The sides of the hills were scorched and denuded of all life, its rills and gullies dead and barren as though victim to a plague of pestilence from which it would never recover. The lake was blinding in the fierce light of the tiny blue sun, and James¡¯ eyes quickly filled with tears. Even so, something about it seemed odd, for its surface seemed not to move; as though despite the unrelenting heat of the sun the lake was somehow frozen. It wasn¡¯t until his bleeding fingers pawed away his tears that he finally understood, for it was not water that filled the bottom of the valley, but a sea of bones.

    A flicker of movement caught his eye and he craned his head to the side. Upon the precarious edge of a rocky escarpment, a tall figure was gazing down at the wasteland at its feet. The man was emaciated beyond the point of starvation, his skin adhered to his bones like a skein of black paint. But as frail as he might have appeared, there was a potency of power emanating from the frame that held him aloft. His pose was dreadful in its certainty, wreathed in billowing robes that stretched behind him like a great black cloud.

    James could not see the man¡¯s face from this distance, but he felt his stare when his gaze turned suddenly in his direction. Like the putrid light cast by a demonic lighthouse, the man¡¯s glare raked across his face.

    Shrieking, James struggled backwards, forcing the rock of the cliff to intercede. His watering eyes sent involuntary tears rolling down his cheeks where they raised dark blotches in the thick dust. The sight of that freakish man made him shiver despite the baking ground pressed to his face. He was the physical embodiment of all the pain and malice that had been visited upon this tortured world, an entity of hate, despair and endless loathing.

    As James¡¯ breath rattled in and out of his throat, he stared uncomprehendingly at the dark blotches left by his tears. A pattern had formed within the damp earth, a pattern that was strangely complex and oddly familiar. His tired mind had almost grasped its meaning when a loud noise intruded upon the quiet. The sound was like the sails of a ship being savagely torn from their masts, followed by a dull thud which sent tremors racing through the ground beneath him.

    Instinctively, James knew he was no longer alone upon the cliff. Somehow, the terrible man from the devastated valley had bridged the gap between them. He felt his diseased gaze like hooks impaled in his back, the sharp tang in the air that belonged neither to man nor beast. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than for his betraying hands to resume their treacherous work and pitch him from the cliff. But instead, his body obeyed the command of the other, rolling him slowly over like a tortoise exposing its soft underbelly to a ravenous hawk.

    The dark man stood over him, his billowing gown moving like slow waves on a sunless world. The very light of the sun appeared unwilling to illuminate his features, but what passed for the man¡¯s face threatened to tear what little sanity James had retained. For, the face that scowled down at him was a blur, a shifting sculpture of grotesquery that used the human skull as its muse.

    When at last he spoke, his voice had a timbre as deep and maleficent as the chasm below.

    ¡®Pitiful.¡¯

    A sound like the mockery of laughter seethed from the blurred face, a sound as obscene as the scream of a child falling to its death.

    ¡®Desperate old fool!¡¯ he cackled.

    The figure bent closer, his skeletal arm resting nonchalantly upon his bended knee.

    ¡®James,¡¯ he whispered, ¡®I want you to understand something very important.¡¯

    James nodded obediently, as though to display any other reaction to his words would be unforgivable.

    ¡®You will suffer.¡¯

    The man¡¯s words were laced with such hate and delivered with such overwhelming certainty that James felt sure he was about to be killed where he lay. But instead the man turned and walked to the edge of the cliff.

    Raising a skeletal arm high above his head, a lurid green light ignited in the palm of his hand. The light was feeble, like the phosphorescent glow of swamp gas, but steadily it grew brighter until it blossomed into a blinding orb of light like a second sun birthed from his hand.

    Cowering helplessly where he lay, James squinted past the frenzied flickering of light to the shattered hills far below. From out of a gaping hole in the side of the hill, a liquid black poured forth. It looked like smoke from some smouldering ruin beneath the earth, but gradually it began to take shape, forming tendrils and fronds like the poisonous underbelly of a jellyfish. As the entity drew nearer, its shape grew more certain, its vast bulk knitting together as it flew through the air towards them.

    The thing that eventually came to rest upon the cliff edge was an abomination beyond all description. It was a creature of rippling black muscle and blazing yellow eyes, a cancerous growth that had been ripped from the earth and given the means to spread its rot.

    Turning the painful blur of his face to the hulking beast at his side, the man¡¯s voice once more imprinted its malice upon the air: ¡®Bring him to me alive, kill the rest.¡¯

    The monster flexed its giant body in reply, bracing its many tentacles upon the ground like coiled springs. A violent shudder passed through its body and then it leapt into the sky like a bolt of black lightning.

    For a long time the man stared at the receding shape of the monster he had created, but when at last he turned, the blurred outline of his face was contorted by an obscene smile. The man walked forward as the air shimmered and crackled around him. The bones littering the ground were pressed into dust, the ruined soil smouldering like the bed of a funeral pyre.

    ¡®You will all suffer,¡¯ the man said, repeating his earlier words as though confirming a promise already made.

    Raising a foot as black as pitch, he poised it above James¡¯ head and stamped down with all his might.

    ***

    A strong hand closed around James¡¯ shoulder and wrenched him out of the pool. Water lurched from his throat, splattering the arms of the man who held him aloft. Gasping for air, he looked up into Torrinth¡¯s lined face and for the first time saw emotion flicker across his gaunt features. It was not anger or reproach he saw in the other man¡¯s face but the cold snap of fear.

    The first words that spilled from his mouth were a senseless babble, yet the old man¡¯s face grew pale as though he had instead imparted some grave truth.

    James steeled himself, shaking his head in fear and frustration. But at last, he heard the words he sought springing from his lips.

    ¡®Take me to her!¡¯

    Torrinth complied without hesitation and pulled him to his feet, before ushering him across the windswept courtyard. They had almost reached the door to the house when James came to an abrupt halt.

    Something he had heard amidst the shrill rattle of pine needles made him clutch the old man at his side. The sound was distant, hiding behind the fall of rain and the rumble of thunder like an impostor¡­ but its baleful signature was familiar to him now. Somewhere, in a faraway corner of the forest, the demonic siren was wailing into the storm.

    Throwing his weight against the door, James pitched himself inside the house. Leander and Tavin looked up from beside the fire, their eyes widened in surprise. Tavin grinned and was about to say something in jest, when James cut him short.

    ¡®Weevil!¡¯ he spluttered.

    Leander jumped to her feet, aware now of Torrinth standing beside him.

    ¡®I hear the siren!¡¯ James cried. ¡®The weevil are coming!¡¯

    Leander and Tavin exchanged concerned glances before the young woman stooped to wake Fen. But James shouted again, causing the sleeping woman to jerk suddenly awake.

    ¡®Something else is coming too, something worse!¡¯ he cried, bracing his arm upon the old man¡¯s shoulder. ¡®I had a vision, a dream, whatever you want to call it,¡¯ he said, pointing a trembling finger beyond the darkened walls. ¡®I saw a horrible thing¡­ a monster, coming to kill you all!¡¯

    The door to the house was suddenly thrown wide, revealing the solid bulk of Kirrin silhouetted against a blinding flash of lightning.

    ¡®Men approach from the northwest, less than a league from the house,¡¯ his voice grated. ¡®They do not travel quietly.¡¯

    The tall man cast a questioning glance towards James, but Leander was already striding toward him.

    ¡®How far to Ruinsgrave River?¡¯ she asked, strapping a quiver of arrows to her waist and reaching for her bow.

    ¡®Seven leagues. In haste we can reach the crossing before dawn.¡¯

    Leander nodded grimly and turned back to James, her body lithe and dangerous in the frenzied flickering of firelight. Despite the obvious resentment that continued to smoulder within her, she seemed unable to refute the converging powers intent upon his life.

    ¡®I pray that my father knew better than I. Get dressed, we leave at once.¡¯

 17 - Ruinsgrave

    Lightning ignited the sky as they fled through the forest. A deafening pearl of thunder shook the air, the leaves hissing and rattling as though in frantic warning of impending doom.

    Ignoring Torrinth¡¯s silent offer of his back, James doggedly weaved an uncertain path behind Fen, his arm attached to Torrinth¡¯s shoulder like a crutch. Wellin was far from recovery, yet he managed to limp beside his younger brother with as much haste as James could muster. They had long since left the stifling confines of the black forest and were now trailing a path through woodland thick with vegetation.

    James pushed on through his exhaustion, enduring the scrapes and stings of the undergrowth as if only these bodily distractions could keep his mind from tearing apart. The dream he had so recently suffered had been an utter violation of his senses. The breaking of his legs might have been illusory, but the damage to his mind was not. Each deafening clap of thunder brought back the nightmare of the demonic man and the hideous monster of tentacles he had conjured from the ground.

    You will suffer¡­

    James flinched as a new sound echoed out of the sodden depths of the forest, a piercing cry which momentarily cut through the ceaseless hammering of rain. It might have been the cry of a dying animal, but James recognised the shrill blast of a horn blown through furious lips.

    Torrinth placed a restraining hand upon his chest and brought him to a halt, drawing his sword in the same instant. Beside them, Tavin and Fen had already un-shouldered their bows, their slender arrows trained upon the shadows dancing between the trees. As the seconds passed they remained completely still, training their weapons on the shifting darkness. But when the forest eventually parted, it was Leander and Kirrin who sprinted out to greet them. Both were sorely winded and it was some time before either could speak, their hands braced upon bended knees.

    ¡®Something is wrong,¡¯ Leander panted.

    ¡®Their wayfarers have been executed by the kabavar,¡¯ Kirrin continued breathlessly, ¡®but somehow they know our location.¡¯

    Everyone turned as James suddenly groaned, gripping his head between wet hands. The others could not hear it, but the dreadful wail of the siren was once more detonating above their heads.

    ¡®They¡¯re here!¡¯ he gasped. ¡®The weevil are here!¡¯

    No longer doubting his ability to sense the presence of the monsters, Torrinth slung James upon his back as Tavin did likewise with his wounded brother. And then they were all running for their lives through the forest.

    The ground pitched sharply downwards as they passed into a narrow defile between two great shoulders of granite; the ground littered with rocks covered in thick blankets of moss. Their progress slowed as they picked their way through the hidden debris, flashes of lightning turning the narrow corridor into a shifting gauntlet of nightmare shadows. From Torrinth¡¯s swaying back, James peered up at the overhanging trees, jutting from the tops of the ravine. This time when he saw the sinewy forms lurching between the trees, he knew what he was witnessing.

    ¡®Weevil!¡¯ he screamed to anyone that would hear. ¡®They¡¯re up there!¡¯

    The monsters were flanking them along the tops of the ravine, their eyes burning like cruel diamonds in the darkness. Fen and Leander loosed arrows into the air, crumpling the half-seen shapes as they appeared. But for each that fell, another took its place screaming its rage into the night.

    ¡®Quickly,¡¯ Kirrin yelled into the storm, ¡®they seek to cut us off!¡¯

    Ahead, the narrow throat of the ravine loomed like the entrance to a tunnel, and those monsters now tumbling and cart-wheeling high above their heads, were closing upon it like two drawing curtains. The weevil now moved in a frenzied mass and in their desperation many threw themselves to their deaths. But as the ravine steadily diminished towards the forest floor, some few survived the fall. Dazed and broken, they ambled towards them, baring their pointed limbs like drawn swords. Leander danced and weaved between them, her blade a wicked blur of black on black. Her face was a mask of fury as her sword swept eagerly between them, splattering the granite walls with their blood.

    The monsters were fast, but across the open ground the warriors were faster, and soon they were rushing through the narrow tunnel that was their only escape. When the forest ended, it was without warning. The seemingly endless canopy of branches and leaves that had accompanied their quest for the past week was suddenly replaced with open sky. Lightning blazed through bloated storm clouds, igniting the sheets of rain lashing down from the heavens.

    Craning his neck from Torrinth¡¯s jostling shoulders, James watched in horror as hundreds of weevil streamed from the dark line of the forest like furious ants leaving their nest. And there, rushing from the mouth of the defile that had led them from the forest was another kind of black. A dark tide of men sprinted across the open ground, their drawn blades flashing like silver claws.

    ¡®Kirrin, the crossing?¡¯ Leander cried, firing two arrows in quick succession into the jumble of dark shapes closing in upon them.

    The tall warrior narrowed his eyes, looking for stars that were no longer visible in the sky. Casting about, he stabbed the blade of his drawn sword to the east and together they made their desperate retreat across the plateau.

    They heard the river long before they saw it, roaring above the sound of the storm like a murderous animal. Soon a ribbon of black emerged from out of the gloom, its dark waters furious and swollen. Across the wide expanse of water, like the vast wall of a glacier, lay the smouldering edge of a white forest.

    ¡®There!¡¯ Kirrin yelled, pointing as he ran.

    In the distance, the tall pillars of a stone bridge loomed out of the darkness. But as they drew nearer, James¡¯ heart lurched, for what he saw was not a bridge but a ruin. Two granite pillars flanked the entrance to what had once been a wide, graceful arc of stone. But within the gulf that now existed between the two banks, only a tumble of river-washed granite protruded from the raging waters.

    Just as James was beginning to think Kirrin had made a fatal misjudgement, he saw a flicker of movement within the gulf between the immobile granite pillars. An impossibly narrow bridge of wood and twine had been strung between the ruins, spanning the gulf between like fragile scraps of cobweb.

    It was a scant bridge indeed, and when Torrinth placed James back upon his feet, he realised he was expected to cross it unaided. His legs felt leaden and uncertain, the left side of his body dragging him down, as though the return of his body¡¯s numbness were yet another enemy conspiring against him.

    The shouts and curses of the men now overwhelmed the screams of the weevil, who now parted to let them through. Arrows, loosed from archers clattered against the stone pillars, sending James sprawling to the ground. But the warriors gathered around him did not flinch, instead calmly returning fire with their wooden arrows, deftly felling each man that dared contest them with such weapons.

    ¡®Get onto the bridge, now!¡¯ Tavin yelled, discharging the last of his arrows into the charging ranks of men.

    Fen leapt onto the bridge like a ballerina and ran lightly across it, as Torrinth pushed James forward. The boards were wet and slippery beneath his feet, but somehow the sandals Bettiny had given him held fast as he inched along its length. He had made it three quarters of the way across when the bridge bucked violently beneath him. Miraculously, his feet kept their grip, but it was his numb fingers that betrayed him in the end. The tautened twine slipped from his hand and with a yelp he began to pitch sideways. For the third time in this miserable chapter of his life, it was only the sure grip of the old man that kept him from falling to his death. Torrinth¡¯s hands rounded painfully on his shoulders and he was thrown unceremoniously onto the river bank. The impact winded him, but before he could recover his senses, those same strong hands were reaching under his arms and dragging him into the waiting forest of white.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Falling to the ground beside Fen, he turned to watch Leander sprinting across the bridge, followed closely by Kirrin. The tall warrior nodded curtly as he passed the young woman before running on into the forest of white. Alone now, Leander turned to face the horde racing to the other edge of the riverbank. The first men were clambering onto the bridge when she swung her sword and severed the thick twine anchoring it to the ground. With an audible twang, the bridge recoiled from the bank, sending the men screaming to the black waters below.

    With her bow held aloft, she screamed her defiance at the men and monsters now gathered upon the opposite bank. Those archers still remaining of their number fired across the raging gap between, but their skill with such weapons rendered their threat harmless.

    As relatively safe as she might have been, James looked on with growing foreboding. It was the same fear he had felt watching her stalk through the forest in retreat from Venn; her simmering rage garnering a recklessness barely held in check. But the fury she expressed now was something closer to madness; her rage so possessing that she could not ignore the taunts and jeers now being slung across the river in place of arrows.

    Tavin glanced uncertainly to his brother, who looked grimly on, absently snapping off an arrow embedded in his wooden armour.

    ¡®Bring her back, Kirrin!¡¯ Fen cried from behind.

    On the other side of the river, a glowing figure emerged through the press of dark men wearing the tattered remnants of a silk robe. Standing before the army of men and monsters, Bettiny blazed a grin of malice across the gulf between them. In her hands she held a bow as tall as a man, drawn across her body with inhuman strength.

    Caught off guard, Leander stumbled, dropping her bow as she scrambled for cover behind a granite pillar. An instant later, the great arrow detonated against its surface, showering the air with splintered wood and pulverised stone.

    Bettiny grinned, mechanically reaching for another arrow as long as a spear. With her fevered eyes trained upon the opposite shore, she addressed a tall, emaciated warrior at her side. Her voice was shrill and full of menace, her words carrying above the noise of the storm for all to hear.

    ¡®Fell the trees, ford the river. Bring the man to me alive. Kill the rest.¡¯

    The soldier moved off with alacrity, barking harsh commands as saws and axes were swiftly brought to bear upon the nearest trees.

    Drawing the monstrous bow across her body, Bettiny¡¯s tattered robes began to flutter frantically as her bare feet slowly rose from the ground. The soldiers standing around her drew back in fear as the glowing scarecrow body climbed into the air and out across the river.

    With her back to the granite pillar, Leander shouted her own command into the storm.

    ¡®I have erred! Take Jame and flee to the Citadel at once!¡¯

    Kirrin grimaced, his hand still clutching his drawn sword now rendered useless by distance.

    ¡®Do something!¡¯ James cried.

    Kirrin gravely regarded the quivers hanging emptily from Tavin and Fen¡¯s waists. They returned the same anguished appeals, but each of them recognised the defeat that had befallen them. Kirrin¡¯s face wilted, his features softening to dismay. For the first time, James looked upon the man he had grown to hate and felt only pity for him.

    ¡®Leander is now Lord of Galendar, her orders bind us all.¡¯

    Kirrin said the words that were due of him, yet he remained where he stood, his feet planted firmly to the ground. James turned back to watch the glowing body sailing across the river, no longer able to endure the helplessness radiating from the other man. The thought that another person would die because of him was suddenly too much to bear. A grim resolution crystallised within his mind and he quickly snatched Tavin¡¯s bow from where it lay beside him. The young man registered his bewilderment, but James had already turned to address his brother.

    ¡®Your orders were to take me and flee,¡¯ James said, his hands rigid upon the bow.

    Kirrin regarded him coldly, uttering a curse beneath his breath as though unable to believe his audacity.

    ¡®But you can¡¯t obey your orders if I¡¯m not with you,¡¯ James said.

    Understanding dawned, and for the first time the other man smiled grimly. James turned and walked out alone to the tumbled ruins of the bridge. His only consolation for this impetuous act was that the enemy wished to take him alive. Whatever happened, Bettiny¡¯s arrow could not be used upon him.

    Bettiny¡¯s manic eyes blazed in her head as she sailed past the middle of the river, the obscene arrow protruding from her bow like a compass point unerringly aimed at the granite pillar. Her intent was such that she hadn¡¯t noticed James emerge from the trees, but Leander stared back at him in shocked incomprehension, her last arrow grasped uselessly between her limp fingers.

    ¡®Hey!¡¯ James shouted above the howling wind and rain. ¡®Hey Bettiny, it¡¯s me!¡¯

    The floating apparition halted in mid-air, the raging black waters thundering across the stone ruins beneath her.

    ¡®I command you to leave!¡¯ Leander screamed.

    James looked on with a defiant smirk. For once, Leander¡¯s words would have no power over him. Instead, he turned to face Bettiny¡¯s hate-filled eyes. Like a weather vane pivoting to a sudden change of wind, her hands brought the mighty bow to bear upon him. A flicker of hesitation seemed to pass across her face, but her fingers pulled even tighter upon the straining bowstring.

    James felt his confidence evaporate as he stared up at the arrow now pointed at him. His free hand fumbled at the coarse material of his robes, his fingers restlessly seeking purchase upon solidity that was not there. His despair and helplessness had allowed him to confront the woman who had once been his nurse, but now that he was the target, he felt the paralysing stench of his own cowardice bubble back to the surface.

    ¡®I¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m going to give Leander this bow, and then¡­¡¯ James stuttered.

    Bettiny¡¯s grin returned to her porcelain face as her shrill voice cut him off.

    ¡®What a brave little man,¡¯ she sneered. ¡®But, I don¡¯t think you will be doing that.¡¯

    Her hand pulled ever tighter upon the bow, drawing protesting creaks from the overwrought wood.

    ¡®You were to be taken alive, but a gift so easily given cannot be ignored.¡¯

    James felt his heart pound beneath his drenched robes. He wanted to turn and run but his legs were frozen in place. He registered movement from the corner of his eye and found that the others had come out to join him, their upturned faces defiant and proud.

    Bettiny¡¯s mocking laughter cut through the storm like a scream, drawing his gaze back to the arrow wavering before him. Despite his terror, his eyes narrowed as a keening sound cut through the violence of the storm. From out of the darkness, a bright blue light winked into existence.

    Blinking the stinging rain from his eyes, he watched a curious shape take form within his mind. It was a beautiful thing, but also terrible in its abstract perfection. The shape shifted and grew, suddenly expanding into the depths of his mind like a solar flare lifting off the face of the sun. Holding his head between his shaking hands, he doubled over. But for once it wasn¡¯t the aching pain of his brain tumour that crippled him, but a fear more terrible than any he had ever experienced.

    Somewhere, far away, he heard Bettiny¡¯s perverted voice rise to the pitch of a scream.

    ¡®Watch, forest filth, as I rip your precious little man apart!¡¯

    Still clutching his head, James looked on through the seething blur behind his eyes to the arrow that would end his life. At that instant, he welcomed the end it would bring to the madness blazing through his mind, but with one last futile gesture, he raised a hand to ward the killing blow.

    All sound ceased to exist. The wind howling in his ears, the loud churning of the black river, these sounds no longer registered upon his senses. Believing the unnatural quiet signalled the ending of his life, James tentatively opened his eyes. His left hand was still raised before him as though to catch an apple falling from a tree, but from out of his palm a pale thread of light streaked into the air. Numbly, he raised his eyes from his hand and traced the beam of light into the sky until they rested upon Bettiny. The demonic woman¡¯s eyes were widened in shock, her body as rigid as a board. The coiling shape that had occupied his mind until an instant ago was now writhing across her body like a convulsing serpent.

    Along the line of light binding his hand to Bettiny, he felt vibrations pulse towards him like a voice carried upon a tautened string. Within his mind an image began to resolve out of the blue light. He saw an old man sitting cross-legged upon a stone slab, the billowing fabric of a tent surrounding him like angry waves. Across an unknown distance, the man¡¯s opaque eyes widened in fear.

    Bettiny¡¯s face sagged as the glowing shroud emanating from her body winked out of existence. Her lips no longer moved, but her voice echoed inside James¡¯ head like the dying notes of a mournful song.

    Jame, I¡¯m so sorry.

    A crippling pain blossomed inside his head as the writhing shape recoiled back inside his mind. The thundering roar of the river ricocheted back into his senses and he turned to find Leander drawing her last arrow across her face.

    James wanted to scream for her to stop, to tell her that the real Bettiny had returned, but as he pursed his lips together he realised he had forgotten how to speak.

    With a shrill whistle, Leander¡¯s arrow streaked into the air, shattering the overwrought wood of Bettiny¡¯s bow. The vast energy stored within the tensed wood was released in a shower of splinters, and Bettiny was flung down amidst the ruin of her weapon. Before the crushing pain inside his skull rendered him senseless, James watched her body flutter down to the raging black waters, where it was consumed like a flake of snow swallowed by the night.

 18 - The White Wood

    James awoke slowly. As his dulled perceptions began to clear, he realised that the movement slowly pitching his body from side to side was familiar. He couldn¡¯t yet think of a name, but he knew that the rolling gait of the one carrying him belonged to the old man; the man who couldn¡¯t speak.

    The light behind his closed eyes was bright and it was some time before he was able to open them wide enough to confirm the long, grey-flecked hair whispering against his face. He couldn¡¯t see anyone else walking with them, and realised he had no idea if anyone else existed at all.

    An endless procession of white trees passed before his eyes, sliding past one another into the hazy distance. In the confused mess of his mind, James assumed it was a forest of silver birch. But as his vision slowly cleared, he realised it was nothing of the sort. The forest was actually as familiar to him as the movement of the old man, comprised of a bewildering variety of strange trees he somehow recognised. But, whatever colours they might normally have possessed had somehow been erased from existence. It was as though everything from the leaves and branches, to the vegetation beneath their feet, was made of inverted shadow; a white so brilliant it pained the eyes.

    A gentle breeze stirred the snowflake leaves, but otherwise the forest was eerily quiet. It was some time before he noticed the woman walking beside him. Her face was kind and radiated a warmth that reminded him of his mother. She raised her hand and placed it upon his brow before withdrawing it with an expression that might have been relief.

    Fen¡­ he remembered that her name was Fen.

    ¡®Your fever has broken,¡¯ she said, studying him intently.

    ¡®Fever?¡¯ James mumbled, rubbing his numb face. ¡®What fever?¡¯

    Fen looked away into the trees, her face illuminated by the glowing trunks.

    ¡®Something happened to you upon the riverbank, after you went to Leander¡¯s aid. Do you not recall?¡¯

    James frowned, now running the same hand through his lengthening hair. The dull ache beneath his skull that had followed him out of the darkness of sleep was slowly lifting, exposing a disconcerting jumble of memories.

    ¡®Leander,¡¯ James muttered as though to himself, ¡®is Leander alright?¡¯

    ¡®Leander is well,¡¯ Fen said, casting a tentative glance beyond his shoulder. ¡®She may not show her appreciation for what you did, but it is something the rest of us shall not easy forget.¡¯

    James groaned as the memory returned. ¡°Going to Leander¡¯s aid¡± was a somewhat generous description for the pathetic attempt it had been; carrying Tavin¡¯s bow out to her like a dog mindlessly returning a thrown stick. He had made the mistake of assuming he would be safe from attack, only to find himself facing down the very same arrow that had been intended for Leander. He couldn¡¯t tell Fen that in the end he hadn¡¯t really cared for anyone¡¯s safety but his own.

    ¡®Jame, what did you do?¡¯

    James lifted his heavy head and saw Fen regarding him intently.

    ¡®What did I do?¡¯ James said, quietly repeating the same question to himself.

    ¡®We saw you raise your hand and halt the kabavar¡­¡¯

    ¡®Bettiny¡­¡¯ James whispered.

    ¡®The kabavar fell into the river and will trouble the quest no further,¡¯ Fen replied curtly.

    She looked at him now through narrowed eyes, her former smile wiped from her face.

    ¡®Please do not use that name anymore. The person it belonged to is no longer of this world.¡¯

    James tensed upon Torrinth¡¯s back, his head swimming as he attempted to articulate what he had witnessed upon the riverbank.

    ¡®But¡­ Bettiny¡­ she spoke to me¡­¡¯

    ¡®The kabavar spoke,¡¯ Fen replied, her jaw tight.

    ¡®It was Bettiny!¡¯ James insisted. ¡®She was still there!¡¯

    He turned painfully to face her from Torrinth¡¯s back, his eyes wide with the implications of his returning memories. ¡®I saw him Fen! I saw the man who was controlling her. He was sitting in a kind of tent and he¡­¡¯

    Fen appeared to flounder for a moment at what he was saying, but then her reply cut across him with such violence he recoiled in shock.

    ¡®No one wakes from the clutch of kabavar, Jame! No one! Bettiny was killed the night we fled Galendar. She was already dead when you met her in the forest, and she was dead when Leander sent her to the depths of Ruinsgrave!¡¯

    The ruthless finality of Fen¡¯s statement finally brought James to silence and he turned away from her, burying his face against Torrinth¡¯s back. It was one thing to witness all of the strange and frightening horrors this world had to offer, but quite another to be so vehemently disbelieved by one of the few people who had ever shown him any kindness.

    It was some time before Fen¡¯s voice returned amidst the whispering of leaves, but when it did, the hard edges that had coloured her previous words had softened.

    ¡®Do you know where you are?¡¯

    ¡®No,¡¯ he replied flatly, staring down at the bleached-white ferns passing beneath Torrinth¡¯s feet.

    ¡®We pass through Lewynn, the White Wood.¡¯

    James remained obstinately silent, unwilling to engage in yet another meaningless conversation.

    ¡®The forest is enchanted,¡¯ Fen continued, ¡®the sole remaining fragment of a forest that once reached to the very feet of the Black Peaks. It is home to the tree spirit we call Derredin, one of the last remaining Ancients to survive the purges of the Dark Age. Whilst we are within his domain we are safe.¡¯

    James wondered if he was having his leg pulled by the older woman. Of course it was strange and not a little unsettling to be walking through a forest bleached of all colour, but attributing it to a Tree Spirit? The preposterous idea lingered in his mind for a moment before it was hurriedly replaced by a more pressing concern.

    ¡®How can we possibly be safe with that small army behind us?¡¯ James said, his voice becoming shrill. ¡®How long can it have taken them to ford that river?¡¯

    ¡®Without the aid of their kabavar the barbarians will not find us here,¡¯ Fen replied confidently. ¡®The White Wood is a maze and death to those not of the Gelding. And the weevil¡­¡¯ Fen paused, as though to utter the foul name within the White Wood was a blasphemy, ¡®they will not dare set foot within Derredin¡¯s demesne.¡¯

    The woman¡¯s unerring certainty went some way to calming his rising panic. But no sooner was it quelled, did another more potent fear come to replace it. Now that the pain inside his head was all but gone, the last of his forgotten memories were unlocked from whatever dark recesses they had been hiding. He saw again the blurred face of the demonic man, and the sick, bloated thing he had pulled from the tortured earth of that other dead world.

    He tried to tell himself that it had merely been a bad dream that he had suffered in the bathing pool of the abandoned house. But as tempting as that was to believe, he promptly dismissed the notion before it was fully formed. No, dreams were everything here. Each of them held a truth and a peril that could not be denied. For what was all of this if it were not also a dream? The dream through which he had lived these past two weeks was by far the most consistent and prolonged of the realities he had so far experienced, but he could not so easily dismiss those others that had so briefly intruded upon it. He knew in his gut that the black monster of his vision was real, and that sooner or later it would find them all.

    ¡®Fen,¡¯ James said, turning painfully to regard her once more, ¡®we are not safe.¡¯

    ***

    As the unending forest of white opened and closed around them, the unnatural silence that accompanied their passage seemed to intensify, dampening sound and confusing the passage of time. It was like the silence of sleep, a dull soporific veil that grew heavier the further they travelled.

    Yet, for all the quiet, the forest teemed with curious life. Half-seen forms tumbled through the vegetation just out of sight, birds and squirrels flitting through the tree canopy like silent ghosts. The creatures of the forest were varied and diverse, but for all their variation, they shared one thing in common: all of them were as white as the forest that contained them.

    James no longer feared the possibility of pursuit by the men who had hounded them for the past three days, for he realised the truth of Fen¡¯s words. The forest was indeed a maze. It looked the same in all directions; each avenue of trees receding into a dizzying haze of white. How Kirrin was able to lead the party through the forest in any discernable direction was a mystery in itself.

    In a brief moment of lucidity, James had asked the same question of Fen. But her reply had been as disconcerting as it had been absurd, for she had told him that Kirrin was being guided by a fawn. James had seen glimpses of the curious deer-like creatures between the trees, each of them adorned by elaborate swirls of horn laced above their sleek heads. But the idea that Kirrin would be using such a creature for direction ¨C and an infant at that ¨C was frankly preposterous.

    James awoke from a doze and quickly glanced to his side to confirm that Fen still walked beside him. With relief, he found her pacing the forest nearby, but his sluggish mind was slower to notice the change that had come over her. The quiet confidence of the older woman had since passed from her expression, replaced now by an unsettling anxiety. Craning her neck, she peered up through the shimmering white to the blue sky beyond it.

    ¡®Fen, what¡¯s the matter?¡¯

    The troubled woman replied, but her gaze did not leave the shards of blue, peeking from between the lattice of white branches.

    ¡®We should have passed through Lewynn by now.¡¯

    ¡®You mean we¡¯re lost?¡¯

    ¡®We are not lost, but neither are we upon the path we desired.¡¯

    ¡®So we¡¯re lost,¡¯ James added with a tired smile.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Fen regarded him gravely.

    ¡®We are not lost. We are being taken elsewhere.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re kidding me, right?¡¯ James said, smiling sardonically. ¡®If I followed a wild animal through the woods, I wouldn¡¯t expect to get where I¡¯d planned to either.¡¯

    ¡®You do not understand¡­¡¯

    Fen was about to continue, when she was rendered silent by a sudden change in the light. James assumed that the sun had merely passed behind a bank of cloud but as the sky became steadily darker, it was more as though the sun had passed out of existence altogether. Before long, it was only the pale, eldritch glow of the trees that lit their path.

    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ James muttered nervously.

    Somewhere in the distance, faint music carried upon the air. At first, it was like the distant melody of church bells; a simple and repetitive tune that lulled and calmed the senses. But the closer they approached its source, the more its complexities emerged from the pattern. It was a composition of staggering beauty, but also deeply unsettling in its alien import; the very air seemed to shimmer in its presence as though reality itself were tested by its play.

    Crouched upon Torrinth¡¯s back like a bundle of broken twigs, James peered left to right as the forest began to thin around them. It should have been a welcome sign that at last they were being released from the forest¡¯s glowing embrace, but when they finally emerged it was into a small clearing.

    The clearing was empty but for a single fallen tree which lay like a crude barrier across their path. Instinctively, James looked up at the sky, seeking an explanation for the absence of sunlight. But above their heads the sky was an impenetrable circle of black, a void that contained not even a single star. He was still gazing in horror at the absolute blackness of the sky, when he heard a quiet rustling from below. Looking down, he saw for the first time the white fawn that had apparently led them to this place. If indeed it had been their guide, the small creature appeared to have considered its service rendered complete, now nonchalantly grazing upon a tuft of white grass oblivious of those gathered around it.

    Kirrin was crouching in puzzlement beside the animal when the sound of a snapping branch rang out like a gunshot from the forest beyond the fallen tree. James tensed as the trees began to part, expecting at any moment to see the tumbling forms of weevil flooding towards them. But it was an altogether different creature that eventually emerged from the white.

    A stag, massive in stature yet graceful in its gait, slowly walked into the clearing. Other than themselves, it was the only part of the forest that had not been painted in white. On the contrary, the creature¡¯s fur was matted with emerald-green moss and emblazoned with a kaleidoscope of shifting colours. Blossoms of wild flowers continuously erupted from its body, the many colours otherwise denied to the rest of the forest living and dying in rippling waves across its hide.

    As the creature drew nearer, the fractal swirls of bone curving above its regal head raised golden sparks upon the air.

    ¡®Derredin!¡¯ Fen sighed.

    Despite its considerable bulk, the flesh beneath the living skin of flowers and plants appeared to tremble and squirm as though not entirely solid. Maggots and buzzing insects spilled from rents in its sides and the voids where eyes and mouth might once have resided. As fertile as its hide might have appeared, its interior was embroiled in rot.

    When the huge animal finally came to a halt before the fallen tree, James gasped when its rotten head suddenly slewed from its body. The severed mass dropped heavily upon the fallen tree, causing flowering plants to spontaneously explode into being. In the breathless pause that followed, he waited for the immense body to topple to the ground, but instead it remained where it stood, as indefatigably erect as a bronze statue. Miraculously, a new head began to sprout from the ruins of its neck like a bulbous fruit, two new antlers forming like swirling script. Glistening black eyes emerged from the darkening material of its face, as the rudiments of a jaw knitted together from its tapestry of exposed sinew.

    After what he had just witnessed, James was only slightly taken aback when the stag began to speak¡­

    ¡®You bring a taint upon the White,¡¯ Derredin said, his voice a deep and sonorous counterpoint to the music still playing upon the air.

    James expected Leander to address the strange creature, but instead it was Fen who walked slowly forward, her head lowered in deference. Reaching the fallen tree, she bowed low before it, as though its rotting remains were the gilt throne of a king.

    ¡®Your grace, we beg pardon for transgressing upon your domain.¡¯

    The side of the stag suddenly burst open, spewing entrails across the ground which erupted into a great cloud of fluttering white butterflies.

    ¡®You commit no transgression, melder of trees. You are welcome here, as is your kin.¡¯ The great head shifted to the side, its glistening eyes peering into the depths of the forest. ¡®Those that followed you, however, were not.¡¯

    The stag¡¯s flank knitted together seamlessly, emblazoned for a moment in scarlet flowers that traced a crimson wave across its body.

    ¡®Their blighted flesh has been rendered into the earth. Their filthy blades I have buried beneath my roots to rust and rot.¡¯

    The great stag took a step closer to the tree trunk and nodded its regal head, the intricate tangles of its antlers raising sparks upon the air.

    ¡®You, flesh that speaks, are of the Gelding. The one you carry is not.¡¯

    Fen was now visibly trembling, her body still bowed low as though unwilling or unable to meet the terrifying gaze of the creature towering above her. Casting a furtive glance over her shoulder, her wide eyes alighted for a moment upon James, who clutched impulsively at Torrinth¡¯s back.

    ¡®He is a friend of the Gelding, your grace. A friend of the White.¡¯

    The newly-grown fur covering Derredin¡¯s face sprouted a tangle of moss and blue flowers, which erupted like measles across its flank.

    ¡®Bring the flesh to me,¡¯ Derredin rasped.

    Fen shifted nervously upon her feet.

    ¡®We beg you, your grace. Pardon this man, for he is special to us.¡¯

    ¡®Bring the flesh, child,¡¯ Derredin repeated, the deadly calm of his voice compelling her to action despite her reluctance.

    Gesturing forlornly with one hand, she beckoned Torrinth forward. After staring in open wonder at the creature¡¯s emergence and subsequent conversation, James struggled weakly in the old man¡¯s grip, no longer able to bear the sight of the monstrosity he was being carried towards. When his feet were set upon the ground, he turned to Torrinth, silently beseeching the old man for his help. But like the others gathered nearby, his gaze remained fixed upon the white at his feet.

    ¡®Face me, flesh,¡¯ Derredin¡¯s booming voice intoned.

    James clasped his hands tightly together like a frightened child and turned reluctantly to face the creature. The stag¡¯s face loomed high above him, its newly-formed eyes already growing opaque and cloudy amidst the tangles of moss adorning its skull.

    ¡®You carry death within you and without,¡¯ Derredin¡¯s voice grated. ¡®Why do you enter my domain?¡¯

    James flinched as one of the stag¡¯s eyes popped, disgorging a blaze of yellow flowers to live and die upon its face.

    ¡®I¡­ I¡­ didn¡¯t want any of this!¡¯ James blurted. ¡®They¡­ they brought me here because I¡¯m being hunted by men¡­ and¡­ and those horrible weevil!¡¯

    Derredin roared, his cloven hooves stamping their sudden fury into the ground. The stag¡¯s hide suddenly bristled with dark thorns, engulfing the colourful blossoms in swirling flails of black.

    ¡®Never speak their vile name here, flesh!¡¯ Derredin bellowed.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry!¡¯ James cried. ¡®I didn¡¯t mean anything¡­¡¯

    ¡®Silence!¡¯

    The stag¡¯s eyes were now completely gone, replaced by the tangle of writhing thorns; the flowers that still survived upon its hide now the colour of spilt blood.

    When Derredin next spoke, he did so without the unwinding flesh of his mouth.

    ¡®Show yourself.¡¯

    James was about to speak when he discovered he could no longer move. His lips were numb, his arms like lead weights hanging at his sides. Inwardly, he shuddered as the unfathomable depths of Derredin¡¯s mind were brought to bear upon him.

    A terrible pain ignited inside his head as a pin-prick of light expanded into the darkness behind his eyes. The paralysis rendered him silent or else his screams would have filled the air, for the terrifying shape that had last emerged when he had faced Bettiny across the raging waters of Ruinsgrave, was once more rising to the top of his skull.

    Derredin drew the shape from his head, his ancient mind scrutinising the glowing form like a jeweller inspecting a rare blue diamond. James felt Derredin¡¯s curiosity pique as he hurriedly drew the shape closer, until the matrix of power hung in the space between them like a star on the verge of collapse. For a moment, he felt Derredin recoil as the shape twisted and reformed within his grasp, but then his colossal mind bore down upon it, slowing its writhing movement and halting its unbearable expansion.

    As James beheld the shifting blue geometries hovering before him, he noticed another shape enveloping the huge stag. Against the brilliant white of the forest floor, its golden light etched blinding lines into his eyes. The shape was very much like the one he carried inside his own head, but infinitely more complex; its geometries shifting and coalescing, sending great spines of power to dance and shimmer amongst the trees. In a moment of understanding, James realised that Derredin was not simply the strange creature standing before him, but a manifestation of the entire forest that surrounded them.

    James¡¯ vision blurred as the blue shape quivered and sparked in the air. The tines of light binding the shape together began to quiver and pulsate, before the entire assembly erupted in a blaze of blinding light¡­

    The white-panelled door appeared before him, etched in shimmering light. He was a child again, and was reaching for the door knob to the bathroom. If the door was shut he was never allowed inside, but he had already knocked three times and gotten no answer. He felt embarrassed to see her naked, but was glad to see that she was ok. The water was pink, like the roses in the garden, but his mother was sleeping peacefully in the bath tub, a tired smile parting her lips.

    The image broke apart and shifted before his eyes, as another memory was dredged from the depths of his mind. Helplessly, he watched as a familiar setting materialised around him¡­

    They only came to the graveyard at night, when no one else could see them. His father was turned away from him, but he could see his shoulders hitching to the sound of his sobs. James looked up to the sky and saw the cold stars blazing down upon them. He was sad because his mother was gone, but he was happy at least that she was up there where it was so pretty.

    ¡®No! You bastard!¡¯

    James screamed inside his own head, forcing his mind to remove Derredin¡¯s grip upon him. With clumsy desperation he pushed the images away, causing the shimmering blue to flicker like a guttering flame. He felt Derredin¡¯s grip lessen for an instant and pressed his will against it with all his might. The stone wall of Derredin¡¯s mind resisted for a moment, and then it was suddenly gone, replaced by a field of glittering gold¡­

    The old man wandered the forest alone, leaning heavily upon a gnarled stick. His hair was long and as white as snow, bound by leather straps into a cord that trailed down his back. Sunlight glinted through the leaves, illuminating his green eyes and the deep wrinkles creasing his tired smile. His passage through the forest was slow and painful, but at last he came to a halt in the middle of a small clearing. For a long time he stared up at the sky as the warm sunlight played upon his face. Smiling, he opened his hand and let the stick topple to the ground. Then, with one last lingering glance towards the clouds high above, he tilted forward and fell like a man diving into the sea. His frail body hit the ground like a bag of dry leaves, but with the deafening sound of thunder, the forest was turned to white¡­

    James crumpled to the ground.

    With his mind on the verge of collapse, he gazed blankly up at the white glade that once more surrounded him. Having forsaken their solemn attitudes of deference, his companions now regarded him in stunned awe; Torrinth poised at his side as though to gather him back to his feet.

    Derredin remained where he had halted beside the tree. Its body was completely still, but the thorns and brambles that had so recently festooned its body were replaced by the ceaseless blossoming of wild flowers. For a long time, the great stag remained motionless, only the rapid growth and decay of its ever-changing skin giving proof that it was alive at all.

    When the creature finally moved, it was only to slowly nod its rotting head.

    ¡®Very well,¡¯ Derredin¡¯s voice rumbled. ¡®If you so wish, you may take your charge from my forest. But heed my words, flesh of the Gelding. This man you call Jame is not of our world. His flesh carries a power not seen within the land for a thousand turns.

    ¡®Yet, within this power there lies a corruption, a darkness that will bring you all to despair before there is any hope of salvation.¡¯

    The stag raised its head, this time singling out Leander who stood so awkwardly beside her companions.

    ¡®Is this your wish?¡¯ he growled.

    James looked to Leander, who stonily returned his gaze. A terrific battle appeared to wage itself within her, but when her nod of assent was given it was firm and decisive.

    ¡®So be it,¡¯ Derredin growled resignedly.

    The beast turned its sagging head back to James and regarded him with eyes that were no longer there.

    ¡®There is some good in you, but I wonder if that will be enough.¡¯

    Derredin reared its head, sending golden sparks to dance in the air between them.

    ¡®If you so wish, child, I will render your flesh and remove the corruption with it.¡¯

    ¡®No, no, please,¡¯ James pleaded, crawling backwards across the ground. ¡®I don¡¯t want to die!¡¯

    For the first time, Derredin barked his harsh laughter into the silence of the clearing, a sound like trees being felled by a hurricane.

    ¡®I thought not.¡¯

    The body of the great stag began to tremble, its head once more slewing from its body in a shower of white beetles and three-legged spiders. Waves of violence passed beneath its undulating hide, sending two of its legs toppling to the ground like falling trees. When the vast bulk of its body followed suit, it popped like a sack of rotten meat, birthing a thicket of white willow saplings from the site of its demise.

    The ethereal music slowly died upon the air, but as though from far away, the ghost of Derredin¡¯s voice echoed within their minds.

    ¡®Take what you will for your little bows, my children. The wood of the white will be needed before this day is out.¡¯

 19 - Demon-Spawn

    It was late in the afternoon when the forest of white finally came to an end. As James slowly awoke, slumped across Torrinth¡¯s back, he watched the last of the trees part before them.

    The molten orb of the giant sun was beginning its slow descent, illuminating clouds like colossal mountains hanging in the sky. After more than a week spent travelling beneath the endless forest, the huge expanse of sky opening before them took his breath away.

    An immense valley, like the crater of some ancient meteor impact, cleared the forest for miles in every direction. In the absence of trees, gorse and wild grasses coloured the slopes in greens and purples, sweeping down to where a vast lake filled the valley¡¯s basin. And there, protruding from the centre of the lake like the pupil of a gigantic eye was the island.

    Despite the beauty and scale of the vista opening before him, James frowned. Fragments of a strange and disturbing dream returned to his mind as though bidden by the veil of white finally parting before them. In the dream, he and his companions had become hopelessly lost within the white forest, until they had stumbled upon a clearing beneath an impossible black sky¡­

    James¡¯ tautened nerves flinched as Fen appeared beside him.

    ¡®Are you well rested?¡¯ she asked, a slight frown contesting with the tentative smile she offered.

    ¡®I¡¯m ok,¡¯ he mumbled.

    He caught a glimpse of the woman¡¯s quiver filled with fresh arrows, all of them gleaming white like polished bones. Fen noticed his scrutiny and her frown deepened as though unsettled by this new weight she carried at her hip.

    ¡®A gift from Derredin,¡¯ she said, returning her gaze to the lake beyond.

    The mention of the tree spirit¡¯s name was enough to confirm what he already knew. This time he hadn¡¯t merely dreamed the impossible, it had actually happened! With a shudder, he recalled how his mind had been plundered like an open book before Derredin¡¯s ancient mind, his deepest, darkest memories dredged from those places he had spent a lifetime trying to bury.

    There is some good in you, but I wonder if that will be enough¡­

    James shifted uneasily upon Torrinth¡¯s back and returned his gaze to the island growing steadily upon the vast lake below.

    For the first time, he noticed the great wall that surrounded its edge. He assumed it to be a wall of stone, because its sides were sheer and towered hundreds of feet into the air. But the longer he stared, the more he realised his mistake. For it was a wall not of stone, but of trees; a seamless ring, woven from the countless trunks of the Leander tree. It was only then that the true scale of the structure became apparent. Beyond the giant walls and the red-golden canopy above them, was a space large enough to conceal an entire kingdom.

    ¡®Behold, the last of the great forest Citadels,¡¯ Fen said. The woman¡¯s voice was devoid of emotion, her former smile transformed into a grim line upon her face.

    James frowned as he completed his scrutiny of the island.

    As awe-inspiring as the Citadel was to his astonished senses, something about it felt undeniably wrong. A discordant note seemed to permeate the organic construction like a beautiful violin incorrectly tuned. The Gelder dwellings he had encountered until now were all alike, their constructions graceful and modest, their forms perfectly in balance with the environments that contained them. But the Citadel was different. It was like a vast protest, a screaming violation of the natural forms that composed it.

    As though reading the concerned sweep of his eyes, Fen spoke again into the heavy silence that had followed them out of the white forest.

    ¡®As you may have already discerned, the Citadel is a construction unlike any Gelder dwelling you will have yet encountered. It is ancient, formed in a time when war and conflict were commonplace within the lands of the Gelding.¡¯

    Fen looked at him for a moment as though gauging what more she might be permitted to say. But the look that lingered in her eyes told him that she no longer cared how much he knew.

    ¡®When the Bitter War was ended, almost one thousand turns ago, the Citadel was returned to the forest. As when in peace time our blades are returned to the earth to seed anew, so were the trees of the Citadel quietened of the imposition that had bound them into the shaping of the fortress. In the turns that followed, the fortress was transformed into the peaceful city of Kellandria and slowly the balance of nature was restored.¡¯

    Fen paused, her darkening expression betraying a glimpse of the inner conflict so unsettling her bearing.

    ¡®Alas, that is no longer the case. Lord Balen has reversed the quietening of the trees and gradually the city becomes a garrison once more.¡¯

    Hearing the name of Lord Galen¡¯s brother pulled James physically out of his thoughts. The words Galen had spoken within the watchtower of Galendar returned to him like taunting ghosts¡­ ¡®My brother¡¯s advice was that you should be executed at once¡­¡¯

    After the hardships and toils of the past week, he had slowly replaced the implied dread of his meeting with Lord Balen with the more immediate trials that had assailed him. But now that they neared their final destination, the imposing edifice sitting upon the island resounded with renewed foreboding.

    James suddenly gasped, jerking his head up to the sky. Shaking his head in confusion, he looked all around him for evidence of what he had just felt. The silence that had followed them into the valley remained, but some nameless essence within the landscape had suddenly shifted like the rumble of an earthquake that could not be felt or heard.

    ¡®Did you feel that?¡¯

    ¡®Feel what?¡¯ Fen replied in alarm.

    James growled in frustration and turned his eyes back towards the island. But the disturbance in the land had not come from there¡­

    On impulse, he tapped Torrinth upon the shoulder and brought his bearer to a halt. The old man gently lowered him to the ground before turning to regard him with his thin, expressionless face.

    For a moment, James merely stood where he had been placed, his aching head reverberating with the echo of the nameless disturbance. The familiar numbness that had plagued his every moment back in the real world returned now like cold water sluiced across his body. The very ground beneath his feet seemed to tilt, and grudgingly he turned to where his body was pitching him. Upon the sea of purple gorse, he noticed a small copse of white trees; the only trees upon the great slope that had strayed beyond the rim of the crater.

    Distantly, he was aware that Leander had appeared in front of him. It was the first time he had properly laid eyes upon her since the confused blur of memory that was his meeting with Derredin. Her face wore the familiar apparel of scorn, but a hint of apprehension seemed to blunt the usual venom of her words.

    ¡®Why does he stop,¡¯ she said, addressing Fen as though James were as incapable of speech as the old man beside him.

    Fen answered with a concerned shake of her head before anxiously following James¡¯ gaze to the copse of trees.

    Now only dimly aware of the others gathering around him, James swayed upon his feet. The shift in the balance of the land was building. He felt it in the stillness of the air, in the very ground beneath his feet. Again and again, his eyes were drawn back to the small island of white trees as though their swaying branches conveyed some obscure warning.

    Another silent shockwave rippled through the landscape and James stumbled. Torrinth¡¯s hand reached out to steady him, but as the pain inside his head intensified, his knees began to buckle. This time, the silent earthquake brought a vivid image to his mind. He saw again the hideous black monster emerging from the ravaged ground of his vision, its slick malevolence crawling through his mind like dark fingers raking through his brains.

    With a trembling hand that no longer felt his own, he pointed to the lonely copse of trees.

    ¡®We have to go there!¡¯ he said, his voice choking in his throat. ¡®There¡¯s no time, it¡¯s coming!¡¯

    Leander¡¯s face flinched, causing the scar trailing across her face to blaze like the red-golden light dancing upon the lake far below. Her rigid bearing seemed to demand answers to questions she had yet to ask, but she responded with urgency, ordering the party on towards the waiting trees.

    Before they had crossed half the distance to the lonely copse, the silence was torn by an inhuman scream. The sound seemed to come from a great distance, but its echo reverberated around the valley like a drum tightened to the point of breaking.

    With a curious mixture of fear and relief, James noticed that for once he had not been the only one among them to hear the sound, for Fen and Leander responded by hastily notching white arrows to their bows. But it was Kirrin who was the first to see what only James had glimpsed within the nightmare of his vision. Drawing his sword soundlessly from its clasp, he pointed to the west. Framed between the distant peaks of forested mountains, a black star was dawning.

    ¡®Oh god, it¡¯s here!¡¯ James cried.

    The black shape grew in the sky as the foul creature coursed its way towards them. For the first time, James saw alarm register upon the faces of his companions and it made him want to scream. When faced with the brutality of men or the cruel faces of Weevil, they had been stoic and resolute, but what they saw arcing through the sky seemed to fill them all with a shared dread.

    ¡®What the hell is it?¡¯ James whimpered, as Torrinth unceremoniously dropped him to the ground beneath the swaying white trees.

    Leander answered through clenched teeth, the trunk of one of the trees pressed firmly to her back. ¡®Demon,¡¯ she seethed, drawing a brace of white arrows from her quiver. ¡®We cannot best such a creature alone. We must pray that we have gone unnoticed.¡¯

    Without fully comprehending why, James knew that ¡°sight¡± was not something the beast was relying upon. Somehow, within the horrible vision he had suffered at the abandoned house, he had been marked; his very existence had become a lodestone, guiding and beckoning the hideous creature to their very location.

    ¡®It¡¯s too late!¡¯ James cried. ¡®It knows I¡¯m here!¡¯

    There was only a moment of realisation upon the young woman¡¯s face before the creature exploded into the air above them, unfurling its many black tentacles like a great hand. The trees creaked and snapped as its glistening limbs wrapped around them, hoisting the sickening bulk of its bloated body above their heads. It opened its mouth and roared, releasing a sound which bludgeoned them to the ground.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Fen¡¯s exclamation of despair matched James¡¯ own. The vision he had been afforded in the bath of the ruined house seemed wholly inadequate to describing the reality that now twitched and shuddered above them. The beast was like a bloated octopus, its countless tentacles snapping and slivering across the tortured branches as though plundering fragile fronds of seaweed for prey.

    With his mind on the verge of collapse, James raised himself from the ground and stared open-mouthed at the abomination writhing above them. Even now, there was a part of him that could not believe this was happening; that this was actually real.

    His breath exploded out of his lungs as he was thrown to the ground, a flailing tentacle snatching the air where he had been stood an instant before. The beast howled its rage as broken branches rained down from above.

    Dazed, he looked up into the impassive face of the old man who now crouched over him, his drawn sword glinting in the crimson light of the setting sun.

    Above them, the monster¡¯s undulating body became suddenly rigid, and with an obscene tensing of its many limbs, it braced itself against one of the trees like a cruel vice. A terrible creaking rent the air as the roots of the tree suddenly exploded from the ground, showering dark soil into the air. The bloated body of the beast squeezed into the gap it had created and bellowed its fury down at them.

    The terrible sound was like the breaking of a spell, and Kirrin was the first roused into action. With a deft sweep of his dark blade, he sliced through a flailing tentacle, severing the limb in a gout of gushing black liquid. Beside him, Tavin dodged to the side in time to avoid a blow that would have snapped him in half before severing another of the deadly limbs in a torrent of black.

    The monster howled and hammered its tentacles against the trees, pulling another trunk from the earth as easily as a weed plucked from dusty soil. Wellin limped from behind the fallen tree and swung his sword with two hands, but in his weakened state the blade stuck fast and he was jerked into the open. In a deadly blur, two opposing tentacles ripped his body in half, showering the air in a mist of red.

    ¡®Wellin!¡¯ Kirrin screamed.

    No longer mindful of the danger that surrounded him, Kirrin lumbered out of the scant shelter of the copse. His bloodied sword hung limply from his hand as he knelt before the mutilated remains of his brother. Taking Wellin¡¯s head between his hands, he cradled him to his face. A groan of anguish escaped the man¡¯s throat as he slowly turned. His features were contorted by grief and remorse, but the eyes that sought James¡¯ were blinded by hatred.

    With a clumsy lurch, Kirrin scrambled in the dirt for his brother¡¯s discarded blade. Bellowing a cry of rage and despair, he rose to his feet, each hand now extended in a blade. Springing forward, he lumbered between the slithering coils of the monster, cleaving and stabbing in a wild frenzy; the beast¡¯s blood rising in testament to his hatred.

    Recognising the madness that had gripped his brother, Tavin cast his bow to the trampled ground and sprinted forward, drawing his sword in the same instant.

    ¡®No! Kirrin, no!¡¯ Tavin screamed.

    But it was too late.

    Kirrin had severed the three tentacles that had rushed towards him, but he did not see the single column of black hurtling towards his back. His eyes widened in shock, as a tentacle as rigid as a lamppost dashed him against a tree; the force of the blow snapping the trunk in half. Kirrin¡¯s body crumpled lifelessly to the ground as Tavin dived to avoid the toppling tree. His fall was controlled, and quickly he found his feet¡­ but the monster was quicker. He had but a moment to turn his anguished eyes back to his companions, before a column of muscle stamped him lifelessly into the ground.

    James covered his face with his hands as Leander shrieked her rage.

    ¡®The eyes!¡¯ Leander screamed. ¡®Shoot out the eyes, Fen!¡¯

    The row of putrid yellow eyes blazed around the circumference of the monster¡¯s bloated body, but its eyelids opened and closed in a complex dance, protecting them from harm. Time and again, the arrows of white thudded against the impervious black lids, only to fall uselessly to the ground.

    After another furious flexing of its remaining limbs, the beast tore open the last of the trees, casting them aside like brittle sticks. Emboldened, the beast stalked forward, its heavy body carried upon its tentacles like living pillars; the severed stumps no longer bleeding but reforming to replace those already lost.

    With their scant shelter ripped from above their heads, Torrinth sprung from James¡¯ side and stood before him, his hand gripping his sword delicately despite the violence poised above him.

    At last, one of the arrows finally met its mark, destroying one of its grotesque eyes in an explosion of yellow gore. The beast convulsed and shrieked its rage, the many tentacles that had been poised for attack, now squirming across the ruins of its eye.

    It was the briefest moment of distraction, but Torrinth took it.

    Rushing out between the whipping tentacles, he swept his sword through the thickest of its limbs, felling it like one of the trees so recently pulled from the ground.

    The beast tottered, and for one palpable moment, appeared to have been defeated. But, when its body fell to the ground, it wasn¡¯t to die, but to kill.

    Realising all too late what was happening, Torrinth raised his sword above his head, but against the wall of black that descended upon him, it was a futile defence. Like a great hand swatting a fly, the beast dropped its great bulk to the ground, pulverising the old man into the trampled earth.

    As though Torrinth¡¯s death were a signal, the two women at last abandoned their useless bows and rushed forward with their own swords drawn. Moving like grim ballerinas, they danced in and out of the thrashing tentacles, scything the black flesh as they went. Their actions were desperate and brave but against the mountain of muscle towering above them, it amounted to little more than suicide.

    Fen managed to sever two tentacles before a third wrapped around her sword arm and tossed her twenty feet into the air; another tentacle stamping her into the ground like a butterfly crushed underfoot. Leander screamed and rushed forward but before she could land a single blow, she too was savagely cast into the air to land with a sickening crunch amidst the wreckage of fallen trees.

    The sound of Leander¡¯s body hitting the ground signalled the sickening conclusion to the violence that had been visited upon them. After the shouts and screams, the snapping and rending of wood, the silence that followed was far worse. The battle had been brief, but the destruction that now surrounded James was complete.

    For the duration of the attack, he had sat immobile as the others battled for their lives. But now his shocked senses took what control they could muster and propelled him awkwardly backwards. The monster slowly turned to face him, its many tentacles now arrayed beneath it like innumerable crutches. Now that the slaughter was complete, it seemed to gloat from its lofty perch, relishing the prize that had been so easily won.

    Its mouth opened, its teeth flashing for a moment in the light of the dying sun. Slurred and distorted by the cumbersome physiology of its throat, it spoke three words into the heavy silence that remained.

    ¡®You will suffer.¡¯

    James¡¯ legs buckled beneath him as he tripped upon the roots of a fallen tree. His hand brushed against cloth and instinctively his fingers closed upon it. When he realised what he held, he frantically tore the sack open, seeking the dagger that had saved his life from the weevil only days before. Against this beast there was no hope that it could save his life a second time, but still he clung to the only weapon available to him like a drowning man stealing his last gulp of air.

    The knife, still wrapped within its protective cowl, fell into his hands as one of the flailing tentacles curled around his leg. James recoiled in horror, but the silky column of muscle quickly snaked around his chest, pinning the weapon uselessly against his side.

    His chest shuddered with sobs as he finally submitted to the coils of black, slowly tightening around his body. The malevolent eyes of the beast stared back at him, the protective hoods ratcheted open as though eager to feed upon his abject display of despair.

    A shrill whistling pierced the air as one of its gloating eyes was destroyed in an eruption of yellow fluid. Before James could register the cause of its injury, the beast recoiled, sending his body lurching violently to the side. The languid coiling and slithering of its many limbs stopped as they became suddenly rigid, tensing into deadly pillars of black.

    The monster seemed to falter, hurriedly bracing its many tentacles into the ground for balance. Blinking through dust and tears, James at last saw a lone figure standing amongst the litter of fallen trees, another arrow drawn across her defiant face. Leander released her hand and the arrow fizzed across the ruin of trees destroying another of the monster¡¯s eyes.

    Enraged, the beast surged forward, trailing James within his prison of coils. The complex dance of the armoured lids resumed across the eyes that remained, as arrow after arrow left Leander¡¯s bow. The last of her arrows skittered uselessly across the black hide of its body before she threw her bow to the ground and reclaimed her discarded sword. James screamed as the monster closed upon her, but just before it got near enough to rip her to pieces, its many limbs brought its lumbering movement to an abrupt halt.

    The ground trembled and shook as a new sound thundered into the valley. Ignoring Leander, the beast turned its array of remaining eyes towards the distant lip of the valley like a dog scenting blood upon the air.

    Etched upon the darkening swathe of gorse, forty or more fragments of white had detached from the edge of the white forest. The furious thunder of hooves shook the ground as a great herd of stags resolved out of the gloom. Each carried a warrior garbed in armour as white as the charges they rode. Soon, a storm of arrows was rising into the sky, falling moments later like a rain of white sparks upon the beast. An instant later, two more of its eyes were destroyed amidst a deafening howl of rage.

    No longer confident of its victory, the beast¡¯s tentacles suddenly constricted, squeezing the air from James¡¯ lungs. In the sudden panic of suffocation, he felt the beast quiver beneath him, its many limbs pressing into the ground as it prepared to take flight.

    The beast wasn¡¯t aware of Leander until her sword was plunging deep within its body. Her teeth were bared, her body soaked by the sudden discharge of gore erupting from the wound. But whatever damage her attack had inflicted it was not nearly enough, and with an enraged snap of a tentacle, she was flung with savage force against the trunk of a fallen tree. There was a sickening crack, followed by her limbs becoming suddenly still.

    Fighting with all his strength, James tried to wrestle his trapped arm from the coils of muscle. His breathing came in quick gasps, his vision dancing with vivid points of light. Somehow the knife had remained in his clenched fist and slowly he angled it upwards.

    The beast exploded into the air in the same instant his blade tore through the muscle surrounding him. The vice-like pressure was suddenly released and he gasped a lungful of air as the ribbons of black fled into the sky.

    The ground came up to meet him, knocking what little air he had back out of him. Gasping for breath, he stared up in fascinated horror as the hideous shape poised in the sky above him. Arrows scattered against its blackness as it reversed in the air, suspended for a moment like the splayed legs of a gigantic spider. The first of the stags were storming into the ruins of the copse when it fell back to earth. Two of the animals were instantly crushed to death beneath its blackness, but elsewhere warriors were leaping into the air, interposing themselves between James and the beast like a fragile white fence.

    James crawled backwards, unable to take his eyes from the monstrosity clawing its way toward him. The demon¡¯s many eyes were now destroyed, but still it continued to drag itself remorselessly forward as its limbs were hacked from beneath it.

    It wasn¡¯t until the last of its quivering tentacles was severed that the vast bulk of its immobile body finally tumbled to a halt. Exhausted, the warriors stood around the hideous remains of the beast, warily keeping their distance, as though only now registering the enormity of the creature they had felled. It was as they looked uncertainly on, that the great mouth of the demon gurgled upon its final words:

    ¡®It will never end.¡¯

    A grim-faced warrior came forward and with two hands dragged his sword through the beast¡¯s great mass, severing it in two. A foul stench erupted into the air as its putrid viscera spilled across the ground, searing the grass where it fell.

    James crawled on, his head trained upon the matted grass passing before his tear-soaked eyes. Slowly, he made his way to where Leander had fallen, her limp body spread across one of the fallen trees like a grisly sacrifice. A trickle of blood ran from her nose and mouth, the close-fitting armour cracked open from neck to waist.

    Ignoring the soldiers that surrounded him, he got unsteadily to his feet and limped towards her broken form. He had almost reached her side when a great white stag interposed itself between them. Its flaring nostrils steamed in the cool evening air, its hooves restlessly raking the ground.

    With disbelief, James looked up at the figure sitting astride the majestic animal, the man¡¯s familiar dark eyes regarding him coldly from the disarray of his long white hair. At last, James believed he had finally succumbed to the madness that had always threatened to claim him, for the man who now so gracefully dismounted from the great stag was Leander¡¯s father.

    ¡®Lord Galen,¡¯ James sobbed, looking down upon the lifeless body of the man¡¯s daughter, ¡®I¡¯m so sorry.¡¯

    Galen¡¯s face flinched at the sight of Leander¡¯s crumpled form, but his eyes darted back to James in an instant. His hands were clenched tightly upon a staff of carved white wood, his face contorted by grief and snarled by rage. With one swift movement, Galen sent the staff arcing through the air, and with a touch as light as a finger tapping his chin, all of the light and pain of the dying day fled from his body.

 20 - Captive

    James gasped a breath out of the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn¡¯t move. His arms were thrust up past his ears, his entire weight borne upon wrists bound by rope. Groaning between his outstretched arms, he peered uncertainly into the gloom.

    The darkness was such that he could not see the floor beneath his feet, nor guess whether he was alone in his incarceration. The only discernable detail of the room was the door, etched into the darkness by the golden light leaking between its edges. In its centre was a small circular window revealing a view of an empty corridor beyond.

    A chill breeze whirled up into the room, abrading his naked body and racking him with shivers. The shrill rattle of countless leaves filled the small space like waves raking across a pebble beach.

    ¡®The Citadel,¡¯ James groaned.

    Twisting fruitlessly within his bonds, he yelled into the darkness. But if anyone waited beyond the door they were content to let him suffer.

    You will suffer.

    Those terrible words, spoken to him by the cloaked figure of his vision, brought back memories of violence and bloodshed. Everyone he knew, everyone who knew him in this world, was dead. The beast had performed its duty with ruthless precision, felling his companions as easily as the trees it had pulled from the earth. With nightmarish clarity, he watched again the gruesome replay of Wellin¡¯s body ripped to shreds, Torrinth, Fen, Tavin and Kirrin, brutally stamped out of existence.

    And Leander¡­

    Her beautiful, defiant face came unbidden amidst these gruesome recollections. He remembered her last stand against the towering monster, her fragile blade drawn against an impossible foe. He had never found a way to feel anything remotely resembling affection for the spiteful young woman, and yet her final futile actions to save his life moved him more deeply than he knew how to measure.

    Swallowing the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him, he sought instead for an explanation for his incarceration. As his body slowly rotated in the darkness, he muttered another word amidst the hiss and rattle of leaves.

    ¡®Galen.¡¯

    The once magnanimous and level-headed man he had first met in the great hall of Galendar had been reduced in his grief to someone almost unrecognisable. The same man who had spared his life within the walls of his own home had looked upon him amidst the devastation of the beast as though he were a stranger; suspicion, fear and anger had somehow wrested the friendship and kindness that had been his gift at their last parting.

    When the scant light within the cell suddenly shifted, all further thought evaporated from his mind. Forcing his head back up from his chest, he saw that the circular window was now obscured.

    ¡®Help!¡¯ James shouted, twisting his neck towards the window as his body slowly rotated away from it. ¡®Fetch Lord Galen, there¡¯s been a terrible misunderstanding!¡¯

    The figure standing at the door appeared for a moment to hesitate, and then the door swung quickly open, hitting the wall with a resounding thud. The sudden outpouring of light made James squint, but when his eyes had cleared, the dark silhouette of a tall man filled the open doorway.

    James squirmed uncomfortably as the other man glared down at him. The silhouette was familiar, the golden light illuminating long, white hair that was once more neatly parted. A tight ball of fear settled into the pit of his stomach when he realised he was again face to face with Leander¡¯s father.

    ¡®Lord Galen¡­ I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m so sorry for your loss,¡¯ James muttered quietly.

    As his words filled the latent silence, the taint of guilt was carried even to his own ears.

    ¡®Silence!¡¯ Galen shouted. ¡®You will answer my questions and say nothing more, lest you wish to be cast to the bottom of the lake. Is that understood?¡¯

    James recoiled at Galen¡¯s open hostility but managed to nod mutely from between his outstretched arms.

    ¡®How did you come to the land?¡¯ Galen snapped.

    James shivered as another blast of cold air swept into the room. The man¡¯s question was unsettling, for it was a question he had asked of him twice before.

    ¡®I told you already!¡¯ James cried.

    ¡®You will answer my questions or you will be slain,¡¯ Galen replied coldly.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know!¡¯ James shouted.

    ¡®Then, who was it that aided you?¡¯ Galen asked, his eyes narrowing shrewdly.

    James paused, his lips trembling.

    Perhaps now he understood something of Galen¡¯s transformation, for the subtle rephrasing of his question suggested that Bettiny had indeed told him of the vision he had experienced in the bathhouse of Galendar.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know who it was for certain,¡¯ James replied meekly. ¡®I couldn¡¯t see his face. It was too dark.¡¯

    ¡®Who?¡¯ Lord Galen screamed.

    ¡®I¡­ I had a vision¡­¡¯ James stuttered, ¡®in the bathhouse of Galendar. An old man spoke to me, telling me to seek out the last magician.¡¯ His body shivered as another gust of wind spiralled about the cell walls. ¡®I don¡¯t know what he meant and I don¡¯t know who he was, but I think he was the one who brought me to this world.¡¯ He stifled a sob and tried to look Galen in the eye. ¡®You have to believe me when I say that that¡¯s all I know!¡¯

    Galen regarded him intently from the shadows. Something akin to triumph shone keenly within his eyes as though his suspicions and threats had finally borne fruit.

    ¡®And what were you sent here to do?¡¯

    ¡®I wasn¡¯t sent here to do anything! You were the one who brought me here!¡¯

    ¡®Lies!¡¯ Galen spat, striking the side of the door with a clenched fist.

    James bowed his head as tears rolled off his face and into the darkness. When Galen spoke next, his voice seethed with menace and the promise of violence.

    ¡®Perhaps tomorrow you will find your tongue more willing to divulge that which you have withheld.¡¯

    And, with that, the door to his cell was slammed shut.

    James sobbed as the dull echo of the door¡¯s closing reverberated through the thick walls. Tears that had seldom fallen for the losses he had endured in his own world, returned once more for what he had lost in this. As well as the lives of the people he had counted as friends and companions, he had finally lost the respect of the one man who had ever shown him any hope in this miserable delusion he had become trapped within. Now that Galen had turned his back upon their friendship, he might as well have been dead to him also.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    With his grim fate apparently already sealed, he closed his eyes and listened to the ceaseless creaking of branches. It was a long time before the nullifying escape of sleep came to his rescue.

    ***

    James awoke to bright sunlight flooding into his cell. Blinking against its glare, he regarded the door and the circular window set within it. But, the light didn¡¯t issue from the window as he had expected. Frowning, he studied the entrance to his cell more closely. In the light of day, it was revealed to be set within the sheer side of a wall. But if there were steps that gave entry to his place of incarceration, he could not see them.

    Craning his head to the side, he peered down in search of the floor. But what he saw there made his body jerk in terror. He had not found a floor, because there was none to be found. Instead, a drop of hundreds of feet yawned beneath him; a shifting throat of red-golden leaves which framed the rocky shore of the island far below.

    James screamed as a sickening vertigo clawed at him. The tenuous length of rope twisted and creaked alarmingly as he trembled on its end.

    ¡®Help me!¡¯ James yelled at the top of his lungs. ¡®I¡¯ll talk, I¡¯ll talk!¡¯ he repeated frantically.

    But for all his shouting, the door to his cell remained closed.

    Clamping his eyes tightly shut, he gradually wrestled back a semblance of calm by fixating upon the pain burning within his arms and wrists.

    Time stretched on, filled only by the sound of the straining rope and the creaking of the great trees that surrounded him. The sounds were calming after a while, and so it came as a shock when another sound intruded upon his senses. Careful not to look down, he opened his eyes upon the door set within the cliff face of the wall. Instinctively, he bucked upon the rope when he saw the long, thin object sliding out of the circular window towards him. For one horrible moment he thought that it was a blade, slowly sliding out into the room to sever the rope above his head. But as it drew nearer, he saw that it was something altogether stranger; for it was not a knife, but a wooden spoon, tied to a length of pole. When its wavering end reached his face, he saw that its bulbous end was filled with a steaming broth the colour and texture of mashed corn.

    Apprehensively, he brought his lips to its edge and took a tentative sip. Like everything else he had eaten within this world, its taste was beyond description, but nevertheless it was delicious and awakened his hunger.

    When the spoon was drained, the pole slid back out of sight.

    ¡®More,¡¯ James¡¯ voice grated, ¡®please, give me more.¡¯

    Moments later, the spoon reappeared and returned to his lips, bearing more of the delicious broth. The laborious process was repeated several times until finally the spoon did not return, and he was left alone once more to the vertiginous silence of his cell.

    ***

    Days passed in slow agony. James¡¯ hands became dark and swollen above his bonds, but the pain in his arms had long since receded into a shroud of numbness. A distant part of his mind was concerned that permanent damage had been done to the nerves there, but with a ruthless sneer he reasoned that such concerns were ill-placed when faced with the enormity of the insanity that had brought him here.

    He was fed and watered twice each day by the same ponderous movements of the long spoon, but despite his repeated attempts to communicate with the one who fed him, he never received an answer.

    To appease the crushing boredom of his confinement, he eventually braved his fear of heights to gaze down at the drop below him. In time, he grew to appreciate the sight of the shifting branches that surrounded him, their ceaseless movement reminding him of those distant days convalescing within the garden of Galendar. Occasionally, his gaze would travel further, to the very bottom of the long drop where the rocky edge of the island met with the waters of the lake, hundreds of feet below. There he would watch the gentle waves of the lake lapping the crags and crevices that lined the island¡¯s edge. One day, he thought he saw a figure upon the rocks skirting the distant roots of the fortress walls, but the sight was fleeting and indistinct. The only other living creatures he saw were the ubiquitous squirrels, which constantly bounded between the branches beneath him like fragments of detached sunlight. As the days wore on, he began to wonder if there were any people left to populate the dream that held him captive.

    On the morning of what might have been the fifth or sixth day of his incarceration, he was awoken by a shocking blast of cold that made his heart lurch within his chest. As he fought to regain his breath, he blinked water from his eyes and regarded the door now opened in the side of the wall. A tall, muscular woman, dressed in a suit of tarnished white armour, smirked back at him from the opening, an empty wooden barrel clasped between her hands.

    Other than Lord Galen, she was the only other person he had ever met with hair that wasn¡¯t as black as coal. Like all other Gelder women, her long white hair was braided into a complex design which she draped across one shoulder; the intricate knot of hair displayed with pride as though it were a badge of honour.

    Stooping to her side, she hefted another large wooden barrel into her arms and regarded him sternly.

    ¡®You have been called to an audience with Lord Balen,¡¯ she said, her voice deep and solemn. ¡®You cannot be permitted to address him in your present state, so I have been sent to remedy the matter.¡¯

    With a grimace, she swung her powerful arms and ejected another torrent of water into the air between them. Spluttering and cursing, James shook his head, freeing the water dripping from his hair and the tangle of his beard. Despite his pitiful state and precarious situation, he glared at the woman from where he hung. With her hands upon her hips, she regarded him in turn with open curiosity, ignoring the anger burning in his eyes.

    ¡®What a strange man you are!¡¯ she said, brazenly eyeing his privacy.

    The woman¡¯s ridicule coloured his face with embarrassment, but the days spent hanging in the cell had slowly awakened his capacity for anger.

    ¡®And what a strange man you are!¡¯ he shouted, spitting a gob of water into the void below.

    The young woman smiled as though she took pride in the jibe and glanced toward a third barrel sitting beside her.

    ¡®One more?¡¯ she asked contemplatively.

    James glared back at her as water dripped from his body.

    ¡®Yes, I should think so,¡¯ she smiled ruefully. ¡®Barbarians are dirty creatures. I doubt there is water enough in the entire lake to remove the filth that clings to you, but this shall have to suffice for now.¡¯ And with that, she flung the last of the water over him, grinning as he fought for breath.

    ¡®Now, to the matter of getting you down,¡¯ she said, absently regarding the bonds tying him to the ceiling.

    Following her gaze to where the rope was bound, James gave an involuntary jerk.

    ¡®How the hell are you going to do that?¡¯ he shouted in panic.

    Ignoring him now completely, the tall woman placed her hand upon the door frame, her fingers tracing its surface as though feeling for some illusive pattern. When her hand eventually came to halt, she closed her eyes, pressing her palm flat against its surface. The curious display brought to mind what Fen had done to ¡°awaken¡± the abandoned house in the depths of the black forest.

    ¡®She¡¯s a melder,¡¯ he thought distractedly.

    The rope gave a sudden lurch causing James to squeal. Fixing his eyes back to the ceiling he saw that the branch upon which the rope had been affixed was moving! Slowly, it was detaching itself from the others around it, like a willow switch sliding free of a wicker basket.

    ¡®Be careful!¡¯ he shouted.

    The tall woman smiled, but her eyes remained closed, her hand pressed firmly against the wall as though it were an extension of the solidity beneath it.

    ¡®Break my concentration again and you may well escape the confines of your cell more quickly than you would desire,¡¯ she said, frowning with concentration. ¡®But, I fear that would be a fall you would not survive.¡¯

    James clamped his mouth shut, and instead looked helplessly up at the unwinding branch. The last of its length peeled away from the ceiling with a dull crack that sent the rope jerking downwards.

    ¡®Get me the hell down!¡¯ he yelled.

    The branch gave a sudden lurch in reply, and then he was falling. James¡¯ stomach flipped inside him as his body became weightless, but just as he thought he was about to fall to his death, the branch gave a disdainful flick and he was pitched through the open doorway and onto a hard floor. Before he could recover his senses, rough hands were lifting him into the air. The guards were large and clad likewise in suits of white armour, their hands like steel bands upon his aching arms.

    ¡®Take the prisoner to the Clyst,¡¯ the formidable woman commanded, absently massaging the hand that had been pressed to the door frame.

    Leaning forward, she peered directly into James¡¯ eyes, her breath hot upon his face.

    ¡®Farewell, barbarian. You will need every one of your gods with you to survive this day.¡¯

    The strong hands of his bearers took his weight between them, and then he was carried from her scowling face and into the gloom beyond.

 21 - The Clyst

    In another time that already seemed impossibly distant, James had been dragged through the House of Galendar for his first meeting with Lord Galen. Now, flanked by warriors in white, he was being dragged through the innumerable corridors of the Citadel to meet his brother. That other time, his fear had been for the unknown. But now he knew precisely the danger he faced; Lord Galen had at last abandoned him to his brother¡¯s will; a will that he knew was hell-bent upon his destruction.

    The walls that slowly slid past his eyes were free of the elaborate designs that had decorated Galen¡¯s house; their bare utility spoke of a place forged only for war. But when at last the meandering corridor came to an end, James was unprepared for what lay beyond. Emerging from the gloom, they stepped out onto a wide platform suspended within the great tree canopy of the wall itself. And there, filling the swaying boughs above the Citadel walls was a tree-borne city.

    The buildings were those now familiar to him, Gelder constructions of every shape and size, fused to the prodigious branches like so many barnacles clinging to rock. Here and there, glorious hanging gardens protruded from confluences of interlocking boughs, trailing emerald-green fronds like the draped curtains of weeping willows. But, by far the most decorative additions to the city were its citizens, who gathered upon balconies and railed courtyards to quietly observe their passage. Their garments were simple and discrete, but the colours they displayed were many, mirroring the shades and hues of the trees and gardens that surrounded them.

    The city was vast, and after a convoluted journey along pathways of wood and leaf, they eventually mounted a huge branch which swept towards the interior beyond the wall. The various homes and buildings that had littered the heights of the canopy gave way to a pair of conical guard towers, which rose from either side of the path like ornately-carved totem poles. Between the towers, a wide archway framed for the first time a glimpse of the interior realm.

    There was movement within the shadows of the short tunnel, and then six armed men were standing across their path, their hands tight upon poles tipped with slender wooden blades. James tensed as they neared them, but at some unspoken signal, the guards silently stepped aside, their expressionless eyes following their passage through the arch. Beyond a short tunnel, the last curtains of leaves parted before them, and then they were upon a vast bridge, soaring out across the immense interior.

    After the austere environs of his cell, James imagined that the land encircled by its walls would be similarly bleak; perhaps consumed by training grounds and billets, the milling ranks of white-clad warriors. But instead, he beheld a vista that could only be described as paradise. For as far as the eye could see, the kingdom contained within its vast walls was composed of gardens, orchards and gleaming pools. Here and there, scatterings of houses formed tiny villages, crisscrossed by dirt roads that meandered through wooded valleys. If indeed this was a place forged for war, it was a forging yet to be fully committed.

    His senses were so overwrought by what he saw, that he didn¡¯t at first notice the impossible structure that dominated its centre.

    Stretching up into the clouds was a glistening tower of white. Squinting against the reflected light of the sun, James thought he saw the tattered remains of a flag fluttering lazily from its lofty summit. Compared to the already prodigious height of the Citadel walls, the column of white towered above its canopy like a skyscraper. The first thought that flamed into his mind was that it was the very same tower from which he had been summoned. But again, his embattled perceptions had been misled, for this was a tower not of stone but of wood; the trunk of an impossible tree.

    Drawing nearer, he realised that the tree formed the hub to which all other sections of the Citadel wall was joined. The only branches it possessed were those given over to serve as bridges; colossal arches of white that stretched across the great interior like the spokes of a gigantic wheel. To left and right, lines of citizens passed along its many bridges to disappear inside the tower like colourful ants entering an obscure colony.

    Eventually, they too were carried to the tower¡¯s face where a dark cleft gaped from its pristine surface. Without pause, the guards bore him through and they were promptly swallowed into the depths of the tree itself. The narrow fissure they followed was claustrophobic and heavy with the scent of sap, but it wasn¡¯t long before they emerged once more into a vast chamber hollowed from the tree¡¯s interior.

    The guards halted upon the threshold and James wearily passed his eyes around the edge of the chamber where numerous other openings disgorged a steady stream of people. The atmosphere within the great space was charged, the gathering crowd expectant and strangely apprehensive.

    At an unseen signal, the warriors resumed their ingress into the chamber, bearing James along a path that descended into the bottom of the bowl-shaped hall. Tiers of wooden benches, like the raised rings of the tree¡¯s earlier growth, slowly filled with spectators who turned and pointed as they passed. Soon a babble of muttered conversation accompanied their passage, rising in volume until the air rang with its nervous energy.

    In the bottom of the chamber, the floor rose to form a raised mound upon which a circular table sat. Shafts of sunlight, from channels carved into the high ceiling illuminated the table like baleful spotlights, where a dozen or so white-robed figures sat in quiet conversation. The air above the table seemed to vibrate with power, as though the potent aroma of tree sap were a living force filling the centre of the great chamber with its restless energy.

    The guards finally drew to a halt where a shallow flight of stairs ascended the mound. Without warning, they released their grip dropping James to the ground like a discarded sack.

    ¡®Prisoner,¡¯ the warrior beside him said, his emotionless eyes staring past him to the raised platform above, ¡®you will proceed to the Clyst alone.¡¯

    James looked up in confusion, his aching legs barely able to support his weight.

    ¡®I¡­ I can¡¯t,¡¯ he croaked.

    ¡®You will find the strength or you will be sentenced without trial,¡¯ the warrior replied flatly.

    The murmur of conversation in the hall quietened as James got unsteadily to his feet. With hands still bound painfully together, he lowered them to cover his modesty and took his first tentative steps forward. The staircase was steep and as he laboured up, a black haze began to creep in from the corners of his vision. His legs were weak and trembling, his breathing ragged. It was only a short climb, but when at last he pitched through the narrow opening into the space surrounded by the table, his vision had reduced to a narrow point at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Exhausted, he fell to his knees.

    As though his fall to the ground had communicated some obscure form of profanity, a hushed silence fell upon the assembled host. The curious silence stretched out and at last James felt compelled to drag his head up from where it had been bowed.

    The island of space bounded by the table seemed to focus his plight, and for the first time he met the eyes of those white-clad figures seated around him. The men and women regarded him with a mixture of fear, pity and open hostility. Even here, naked, bound and helpless, James marvelled that there could still be those that would fear him.

    It was only then that he saw the man sitting at the head of the table. Bewildered, he met the eyes of the man he already knew. Lord Galen stared back at him without blinking, his body as rigid and unyielding as the white wooden staff clasped so tightly at his side. With a movement as effortless as breathing, the tall man rose from his seat.

    ¡®Barbarian, forthwith you are to be sentenced by the Lords of the Citadel. The men and women gathered before you represent the ten bedrock towers of the great wall, and it is with them that your fate now resides.

    ¡®You will answer their questions, and then you will be told of the crimes set against you.¡¯

    Galen¡¯s voice was measured and calm, like the time they had first met, but his eyes burned with a hatred that marked his face like a blight.

    ¡®At the last, if you possess such words, you may attempt your defence.¡¯

    ¡®Wh¡­ where¡¯s Lord Balen?¡¯ James said, his voice an insignificant whisper in the vastness of the wooden cavern.

    The tall man whirled around, the pretence of his former calm crumbling at the audacity of his question.

    ¡®You will not speak until spoken to! Is that understood?¡¯ he bellowed. ¡®Further deception from you will not be tolerated! You know as plainly as do us all that my brother has fallen with the rest of his household.

    ¡®I am Lord Balen, Custodian and keeper of the Clyst, and I will see to it that you pay dearly for the transgressions you have committed against our people!¡¯

    As the great crowd of spectators murmured their agreement, realisation descended upon James like the cold water so recently used to wake him from his slumber. The indomitable figure who now towered above him was not Lord Galen, but his twin brother. The likeness was complete, yet some essential difference marked the other man¡¯s aura like an invisible taint. Like Galen, his brother exuded hidden depths of power, like a vast store of rock and ice silently braced before an avalanche. But whilst Galen had worn his misgivings and uncertainties in plain sight, his brother displayed nothing but open hostility. Whatever fears or concerns drove Balen¡¯s actions they were buried beneath an unshakable confidence in his own convictions.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The Lords proceeded to stand in turn, each of them asking questions that James had answered or been unable to answer countless times before.

    When James spoke, the assembled crowd registered their shock that he knew their language. When he told of his flight into their land, or the dream of his summoning, they murmured with unrest. The fear of the crowd was palpable in the great chamber, and with each mumbled answer he gave, James felt himself being dragged deeper and deeper into the guilt the questions implied. News had likely spread of the attack of the demon and the slaying of his companions beyond the city walls. And now, the assembled host looked upon the sole survivor of the attack; a man who had fallen from the sky in a ball of flame. They saw not the man of flesh and bone, abject and defeated before them, but a monster capable of any atrocity.

    At long last, Lord Balen finally halted the questioning. He seemed unconcerned with the answers James had given, as though it had all been a performance merely intended to deepen and secure his guilt.

    Facing him from where he stood, the tall lord spoke, directing his words with the full force of his disdain.

    ¡®Barbarian, you are hereby accused of the following crimes:

    ¡®The unwarranted entry into the lands of the Gelding;

    ¡®The practicing of profane arts;

    ¡®Complicity in the destruction of Galendar and the systematic slaughter of the fringe villages;

    ¡®The summoning of a demon and the defilement of the sacred wood¡­¡¯

    Balen paused, measuring out the import of his words like nails bludgeoned into the lid of a coffin.

    ¡®What words do you have by way of defence?¡¯

    Floundering, James helplessly looked between the stern faces turned towards him.

    ¡®Please, somebody help me!¡¯ he gasped. ¡®I¡¯m lost here. I¡¯m lost and there¡¯s nothing I can do to escape this madness!¡¯

    ¡®The prisoner denies nothing!¡¯ Balen seethed, sweeping his hand in a violent gesture that made his robes billow theatrically about him.

    Some of the Lords openly registered their agreement, as others turned to one another with what might have been doubt or fear etched upon their faces. But beyond the table, the chamber rang with upraised voices; the atmosphere of the assembled host had shifted from one of fear and uncertainty to one of unified anger.

    With a grim smile of triumph, Lord Balen motioned for quiet as the noise within the chamber subsided into an uneasy silence. When Balen¡¯s words returned, they echoed the animosity of the crowd filling the ranks of the chamber.

    ¡®You have no defence for there is none to give. You are guilty by your very presence within our land, and it is here, within the sanctity of the Clyst that the fate of your contemptible life shall be decided.¡¯

    Turning to the other Lords, Balen shouted into the tensed air, ¡®Arise, Citadel Lords!¡¯

    As one, the assembled Lords stood. In the utter silence of the chamber, the sound of their sudden movement echoed into the space like the beating wings of vultures. With his hand like steel upon his staff, Lord Balen¡¯s voice cut through the silence.

    ¡®Cast your judgement!¡¯

    A flurry of movement unfolded from around the table as the Lords swung their staffs through the air. James cowered to the floor, raising his bound hands above his head to ward the blows raining down upon him. But as the dull retorts diminished in his ears, he opened his eyes to find seven of the staffs now lying across the tabletop, their ends pointing towards him like accusing fingers.

    Three of the Lords had kept their staffs planted firmly upon the ground, but it was obvious now that the majority had determined his fate.

    Lord Balen seized his own staff and brought it down upon the table with a crack that reverberated around the chamber. Its accusing length added to the seven others, punctuating the finality of their judgement.

    ¡®The Clyst has spoken! Justice be done!¡¯ Balen intoned, as the assembled host repeated the refrain.

    ¡®In obeyance of Gelder martial law, the prisoner will henceforth be taken to a place of execution, and there removed of his life by the decapitation of his head.¡¯

    Lord Balen regarded James thoughtfully, the last shreds of his former rue extinguished by the favourable outcome of the sentencing.

    ¡®In death, may you be pardoned for the evil you have committed against our people.¡¯

    James¡¯ eyes widened in terror as he jerked his head between the three Lords who had abstained from passing judgement. In his panic he couldn¡¯t speak but his anguished eyes beseeched them nonetheless. Two of the three avoided his gaze, unsettled by his distress, but the third slowly shook her head, a silent refusal of the judgement that had been passed.

    The same two guards that had led him into the chamber now slowly mounted the stairs behind him. They were about to place their hands upon his shoulders, when a loud voice was raised from a distant corner of the chamber. There was the sound of running footsteps and then a ripple of conversation broke through the massed ranks surrounding the Clyst.

    ¡®Silence!¡¯ Balen commanded, repeatedly striking the floor with the rod of white wood. ¡®What is the meaning of this disturbance?¡¯

    The chamber quietened and from where his head bowed to the floor, James heard a female voice rise out of the gathering quiet.

    ¡®How could you do this?¡¯

    James¡¯ body became rigid. He recognised the woman¡¯s voice but it was a voice that he thought he would never hear again.

    With the little strength that remained in the muscles of his aching neck, he turned slowly around. A woman wearing the dark green of Galendar ascended the Clyst and knelt beside him. Her scarred face was incredulous and angry, but for once it was disdain that was not directed at him.

    ¡®You sought to deceive me, uncle!¡¯ Leander shouted. ¡®Jame is here before you now because my father wished it to be so!¡¯

    James shook his head in bewilderment. It felt as though the last fragile grasp he had upon this reality was slowly tearing itself apart. Leander shouldn¡¯t be kneeling here beside him! He had watched the beast break her body upon the fallen trees, had seen her armour cracked asunder. She was dead! She had to be dead!

    The chamber rang with upraised voices, instantly silenced by Balen¡¯s staff once more striking the ground beneath him.

    Another female voice intruded upon the quiet, and turning, James recognised the muscular young woman who had so recently released him from his cell.

    ¡®Father, I am sorry. My cousin could not be dissuaded.¡¯

    Lord Balen sighed and waved a weary hand before dropping back into his seat in frustration. Leander scowled at the man that was her uncle before drawing a slender dagger from her belt. At the sight of the weapon James flinched, but despite the young woman¡¯s grimace of frustration, she managed a tight smile before motioning to his bound wrists. Still unable to believe what was happening, he obediently raised his trembling hands as Leander deftly sliced through the thick cord; the blood surging back into his swollen hands like fire trickling down his veins.

    As the assembled host murmured its confusion, Leander waved to another figure standing behind her and a bundle of green material was promptly passed forward. He recognised the garment at once, the travel robes he had worn through the many days of their pursuit through the forest. The garment had since been washed and as she helped his clumsy arms into its voluminous sleeves, its familiar weight settled across his shoulders like an old friend.

    At last, he took Leander¡¯s hand and together they stood to face Lord Balen and the assembled lords.

    ¡®You forget yourself, child,¡¯ Lord Balen finally said through gritted teeth. ¡®When you passed within the bounds of our kingdom your father¡¯s position on this matter was rendered obsolete.¡¯

    ¡®If the memory of my father means anything to you at all, you will grant him his final wish!¡¯

    ¡®Sentimentality has no place in times of war!¡¯ Balen shouted, slapping his hand upon the wooden table. ¡®You have seen what this man is capable of and yet you seek to spare his life?¡¯

    ¡®This man saved my life!¡¯ Leander retorted.

    ¡®Have you already forgotten the downfall of your own house?¡¯ Lord Balen shouted. ¡®The demon summoned less than a league from these very walls? Do you think these mere coincidences? With my own eyes did I see the beast attempt to aid his escape and with my own ears did I hear it commune with the man whence it lay dying.¡¯

    ¡®Jame did not summon the beast. He foretold of its arrival and gave us warning!¡¯ Leander shouted. ¡®They pursue him because they fear him, not because he is any part of them!¡¯

    James stared at the young woman in disbelief, incredulous that she could offer such an impassioned defence. This couldn¡¯t be the same woman who had so often reprimanded him for his stupidity, the same woman who had so often intimated that he was to blame for all the ills that had befallen them.

    Turning back to face Lord Balen, James saw a grim smile form beneath his narrowed eyes.

    ¡®If, as you say, the man is as pitiful and harmless as he appears, what better agent of ill to send amongst the people of the Gelding than one who engenders such pity? Might he not have saved your life with his profane magic merely to gain your trust? Balen sat bolt upright, punctuating his next words with a pointing finger. ¡®There is more to this man than the skin and bone set before us!¡¯

    ¡®Granted, we do not have all of the answers,¡¯ Leander replied scornfully. ¡®But until we have exhausted all possibilities, we cannot condemn an innocent man to death!¡¯

    At that moment, the middle-aged woman who had abstained from casting her vote moments before suddenly spoke up.

    ¡®Then, what would you have us do, Daughter of Galen?¡¯

    Balen sighed, clasping his staff as though to crush it between his rigid fingers.

    ¡®Spare him,¡¯ Leander replied without hesitation. ¡®Allow the man to return to his own kind.¡¯

    ¡®Impossible!¡¯ Balen spat. ¡®The barbarian has walked Derridin¡¯s Wood. He has set foot within the walls of the Citadel! He will never be permitted to leave the Gelding alive.¡¯

    ¡®Then grant my father¡¯s last wish. Allow Jame to seek audience with the monk,¡¯ Leander retorted. ¡®It suffers you nothing to delay his execution another day. You have held him captive for half a span or more and still the walls of the Citadel remain standing!¡¯

    ¡®So be it!¡¯ Balen roared, swinging his fist at the table in frustration. ¡®The barbarian may have his audience with the old man, for all the good it will do him!¡¯

    The furious lord now faced Leander squarely, the rod of wood trembling in his clenched fist.

    ¡®If the Kloven intercedes on his behalf, the man may live. But, should he prove unsuccessful, then the proclamation of the Clyst will be enacted to its fullest extent! War is upon us, we must show our enemies as much mercy as we have been granted these past ten turns!¡¯

    Angrily turning her back on her furious uncle, Leander strode from the Clyst, pulling James along with her. Excited conversation erupted from the crowd as they descended the flight of shallow steps, the anger and resentment that had seethed within the air but moments before, now dissolving into confusion. People rose from their seats to watch them pass, but not one them dared come any closer.

    As James weaved an uncertain path along the rows of seats, the darkness lingering at the edges of his vision began to creep forward. The noise and clamour of the chamber jarred violently within his head, the ground pitching wildly beneath him. Strong hands caught him before he fell, but the darkness obscuring his vision was now complete. The noise of the crowd faded into the distance, but Lord Balen¡¯s voice reached him, bludgeoning its way into what remained of his conscious mind:

    ¡®Understand, barbarian, that the chance I give you is scant indeed. For, I doubt my brother will have mentioned that the man who now holds your life in his hands is one that has become utterly and irrecoverably mad!¡¯

 22 - The Mad Monk

    The black fog cleared from James¡¯ eyes, revealing a long, dimly-lit corridor. The noise of the chamber receded into the distance, replaced now by the echoed patter of footsteps. Craning his head over the shoulder of the one who carried him, he recognised the muscular figure of Balen¡¯s daughter, her powerful legs beating out a belligerent stride.

    As the tangled mess of his mind cleared, he found that he once more had cause to doubt what he remembered. As vividly as he recalled his confrontation with Lord Balen and the other lords of the Citadel, there was another part of it that could not possibly have been real: at the last moment, his execution had been postponed by a woman he knew to be dead. A creeping dread settled into the pit of his stomach when he realised the implications of these fabricated memories, for if Leander hadn¡¯t come to his rescue, then no one had¡­

    ¡®In obeyance of Gelder martial law, the prisoner will henceforth be taken to a place of execution, and there removed of his life by the decapitation of his head.¡¯

    ¡®Where are we going?¡¯ James said, his voice querulous and small within the emptiness of the corridor. At first, his question was met with only silence. But when the man carrying him replied, James¡¯ body tensed in shock.

    ¡®Jame, we travel to the top of the tree, known to you now as the Clyst. It is there that we shall meet with the monk, Kloven-Perrin.¡¯

    ¡®Tavin?¡¯ James gasped. ¡®Is that really you?¡¯

    The voice was undeniably that of his friend, yet it was subtly changed. Its tone was flat and emotionless, as though all the joy and enthusiasm it once carried had been wrestled from it.

    ¡®It is I,¡¯ Tavin replied flatly. ¡®We are both with you now.¡¯

    Instinctively, James glanced to the side as another figure materialised out of the gloom. Leander turned to regard him, her face wearing an uncharacteristic expression of concern.

    ¡®But¡­ how can this be possible?¡¯ James asked, staring at Leander as though a ghost walked beside him. ¡®That thing, that monster¡­ I saw it¡­ you were both killed! You were all killed!¡¯

    ¡®Jame, we were only fortunate that the beast was in haste,¡¯ Tavin replied. ¡®The armour we wear is not merely for decoration, it protects against such injury. But given enough time, the demon could have finished us easily enough.¡¯

    ¡®Then, you all survived?¡¯ James asked in disbelief.

    ¡®Not all,¡¯ Tavin said quietly. ¡®As you know, my brother, Wellin, was without his armour,¡¯ he said, his voice tapering into silence.

    When Tavin did not continue, Leander spoke for him, her jaw tight with undiminished anger for what had befallen them.

    ¡®Myself, Tavin and Kirrin escaped injury no worse than cuts and bruises. But Fen¡¯s arm was badly broken, and Torrinth gravely injured.¡¯

    ¡®Torrinth¡­¡¯ James said, his voice catching in his throat. ¡®Is Torrinth¡­ dead?¡¯

    Tavin craned his neck towards him, a glimmer of his former mirth hitching a corner of his mouth. ¡®The old man is made of something akin to melded willowing. He lives.¡¯

    The sudden relief James felt at the news took him by surprise, and despite the grave situation with which he was still faced, he felt the beginnings of his own smile twisting itself onto his lips.

    The corridor curved sharply to the left before it straightened out again, a shimmering gleam of sunlight illuminating a distant opening. The echo of their footsteps once more punctuated the silence, their insistent report reminding him of their destination. If only to take comfort from the sound of another voice, James asked another question.

    ¡®How are we supposed to get all the way up there, Tavin?¡¯

    Leander grimaced, as though his constant questions returned the memory of how much she disliked him. But before Tavin could reply, the muscular young woman who was Balen¡¯s daughter, answered for him.

    ¡®There are two ways to gain the summit of the Clyst,¡¯ she said, nodding her head to the ceiling. ¡®The first is by foot, a climb that would take half the day. The other, is by flight.¡¯

    ¡®Flight?¡¯ James parroted.

    ¡®Well, perhaps not the form of flight you are accustomed to,¡¯ she added mockingly. ¡®Ours is of a form derived of more natural means.¡¯

    ¡®If it¡¯s all the same to you, I think I¡¯d rather take the stairs.¡¯

    ¡®That you would,¡¯ the young woman scolded, ¡®and prolong the length of your life accordingly. Unfortunately for you, my father has insisted upon the latter. The sooner this folly is exposed for what it is, the sooner we may all move on from this unpleasant affair.¡¯

    The opening loomed ahead, and at last they emerged into bright sunlight. The giant sun was now at its zenith and it was some time before its blinding light cleared from his eyes. Blinking through his tears, he saw the wide platform upon which they stood, protruding from the tree like a great shelf. A railing surrounded the enclosure, and beyond that lay the vastness of the interior kingdom. Once again, James was captivated by the scale and beauty contained within the great wall of trees. Though, it wasn¡¯t long before his gaze was compelled upwards; the cliff face of the impossible tree climbing into the dizzy heights above. With the word ¡°flight¡± still foremost in his mind, he gazed distrustfully at the curious structure they were now approaching. Rising out of the floor, and tilted at the immense wall like an upended trumpet, was a huge funnel woven from a lattice of wood. At its base, a narrow doorway gave entrance to its interior, guarded by two men brandishing the same blade-topped poles he had seen at the guard tower earlier that day. At Balen¡¯s daughter¡¯s approach, the men uncrossed their weapons and one by one they filed inside.

    Tavin lowered James back to his feet, causing the floor to move disconcertingly beneath them like the car of an antiquated elevator. As with every other construction he had encountered in this strange world, the wooden cage in which they stood felt as though it were alive. His skin crawled when he noticed the dark shapes squirming in the shadows around them; countless black vines which hung from the funnel like a host of compliant snakes ready to be put into service.

    When the last of them had entered the small space, Balen¡¯s daughter reached her hand towards a wooden post protruding from the centre of the platform. The post was topped with an orb of dark wood; a gleaming black ball as dark and dense as polished ebony. Pressing her palm to its smooth surface, she slowly brought her fingers down to clasp its edges, her knuckles white against her pale skin.

    The young woman turned her head and addressed Leander, a mirthless grin parting her thin lips.

    ¡®Ward your man well. We would not want him to be flung from the Clyst, now would we?¡¯

    Leander scowled back at her cousin, but promptly nodded her assent to Tavin, who clasped his arms around James¡¯ chest in a tight embrace. The platform creaked and groaned, and with a sudden lurch it began to sink beneath the platform. The ponderous descent brought them out into the open, the countless vines now pulled as tight as steel cables around them. Peering between the bars of the quivering cage, James¡¯ stomach churned when he saw the interior gardens hundreds of feet below. At the very last, he realised with dismay what this contraption really was¡­ it wasn¡¯t an elevator, but a catapult; a human catapult!

    ¡®Get me off!¡¯ James yelled.

    With numb fingers he tried to pry the young man¡¯s arms away, but Tavin resisted.

    ¡®There is nothing to fear, Jame,¡¯ Tavin reassured from behind. ¡®The melder determines the force necessary to lift those upon the Riser. Too little force and we would not reach the Catch. Too much, and we would perish upon the face of the Clyst.¡¯

    Grimacing, James twisted his head to look back at his friend. For the first time since the horror of the demon¡¯s attack, Tavin was smiling like his former self.

    ¡®But rest assured, melders never fail in the task.¡¯

    James turned his anguished eyes back upon the young woman whose eyes were now tightly closed, her lips mouthing a string of unspoken words. Gradually, the frown furrowing her brow lessened and her fingers opened, leaving only her palm pressed to the gleaming orb of black.

    ¡®Keep your legs straight, Jame,¡¯ Tavin muttered at his ear. ¡®When her hand leaves the surface of the Draw, brace yourself for the lift.¡¯

    With his heart pounding, James fixed his eyes upon the woman¡¯s hand, his own hands now grasping Tavin¡¯s arms like a frightened child waiting for a rollercoaster ride to begin.

    The young woman¡¯s hand left the orb of black and pressed itself to her side. The vibration in the platform beneath their feet suddenly increased, and then with the sound of collapsing air they were flung upwards in one breathless push. The woven tube that had surrounded them moments before raced past them in a blur, and then they were flying through the air.

    ¡®We¡¯re going to bloody die!¡¯ James screamed as the vast face of the white tower loomed before them.

    From out of the deafening roar of air thundering past his ears, he heard his friend laughing joyfully behind him.

    ¡®All will be well, Jame! All will be well!¡¯

    Despite his friend¡¯s attempts to reassure him, James continued to scream as the white face of the wall bore down upon them. But as terrible as the sudden acceleration had been, the slowing of their flight was altogether worse. By slow increments, he felt the force of gravity tugging away the last motes of energy imparted by the Riser. The wall of the tree was now almost within arm¡¯s reach, the surface detail of its bark materialising out of the blur it had so recently resembled. But as the arc of their flight approached, there was nothing but the unending sheerness of the wall before them.

    To his horror, Tavin¡¯s arms unlaced from around his chest. His arms and legs flailed in mid-air, and just as he was certain he would begin his fall back to his death, a platform miraculously rose above his head and settled beneath his feet.

    James sprawled in a heap as the others landed gracefully around him, his last scream silenced by the hard wooden floor knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment, he continued to scramble frantically upon the ground, until Tavin placed a hand upon his shoulder.

    ¡®Be still, Jame,¡¯ Tavin said soothingly at his ear. ¡®We have alighted upon the Catch, you are safe!¡¯

    ¡®Perhaps now I understand why you wish to keep the man alive,¡¯ Balen¡¯s daughter chuckled. ¡®He does entertain so!¡¯

    Getting unsteadily to his feet, James recovered his wits enough to return the woman¡¯s mocking stare before Tavin hoisted him on his back.

    The platform known as the ¡°Catch¡± was a precarious platform indeed. It was scarcely five feet deep, and without a barrier of any kind, a fall of hundreds of feet yawning at its edge. As they skirted the narrow ledge, James kept his eyes trained upon the wall beside them, unwilling to trust his sanity with the sight of the perilous drop below. It was with a sigh of relief when at last they passed through an opening and back inside the tree.

    They walked on in silence, again surrounded by the unadorned walls of a meandering corridor. The adrenaline that had so recently flooded his body following the terrifying ascent was quickly replaced by bone-weary tiredness. Feeling a soft tapping upon his shoulder, he sluggishly raised his head from where it now rested upon Tavin¡¯s back and found Leander peering at him through the gloom. Taking something from her belt, she reached over and offered him a small wooden vessel.

    ¡®Drink this, it will revive you somewhat.¡¯

    Her words were kindly meant, but a residual harshness marred her voice as though she were unfamiliar with displays of kindness.

    James screwed up his face and turned his head away, ¡®I¡¯m not drinking any more of that stuff!¡¯

    ¡®It is not the water of the wellspring,¡¯ she chided impatiently, ¡®it is metheglin, an alcoholic beverage fermented from honey, Merrin berries and the sap of the Hobine. It has certain restorative powers that will aid your recovery.¡¯

    Lacking the strength or will to refuse her a second time, James took the bottle in an unsteady hand and took a tentative sip. The instant the first of the liquid filled his mouth he instinctively gulped the entire contents down his throat. It tasted the way orange blossom smelled, but laced with a sweetness that was just beyond description. There was a momentary sensation of burning, as when consuming strong liquor, but when it had cleared he was left feeling strangely revived. The constant pain in his wrists and arms dwindled to a dull throb as the darkness at the edges of his vision began to recede into the depths from which it had come.

    ¡®Thank you,¡¯ James said, confusedly peering back at her with eyes that felt suddenly fresh and alert. ¡®I feel¡­ better, much better.¡¯

    ¡®You will need all the strength and lucidity you can muster for your meeting with the old man, for I fear this will not be easy,¡¯ Leander said, stowing the bottle and casting a troubled glance at Tavin. ¡®My father told me of the monk¡¯s¡­ incapacity.¡¯This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡®Incapacity?¡¯ James said, screwing up his face. ¡®Just who the hell is this guy anyway?¡¯

    Balen¡¯s daughter spoke before Leander could respond, causing the young woman to scowl darkly at her cousin.

    ¡®Kloven-Perrin is a monk of the order of Kloven, the sun-worshippers of the Klovelli Mountains.¡¯

    James remembered Lord Galen speaking the same incomprehensible nonsense the night they had left Galendar.

    ¡®And what the hell is that supposed to mean?¡¯ he growled.

    ¡®The Kloven are a monastic sect that resides high among the peaks of the Klovelli Mountains,¡¯ the woman¡¯s stern voice intoned. ¡®Theirs is a religion based upon the worship of Yophine, a god who they believe resides within the sun. Whether or not such a god truly exists, their worship grants them certain powers beyond the ken of normal men.¡¯

    ¡®What kind of powers?¡¯ James asked doubtfully.

    ¡®The monks of the Kloven do not sleep, nor do they partake of food for sustenance. They are far-sighted, yet physically blind. They are formidable adversaries in combat, yet require no weapons other than what they possess of hand and foot.¡¯

    With a measured pause, the young woman turned and fixed him with her stony gaze.

    ¡®And, they are immortal.¡¯

    James¡¯ first impulse was to smirk, but as these preposterous descriptions settled onto his ears, he realised with dismay that he had heard them before. He remembered now the young mother ¨C was her name Lynnia? ¨C telling her son of these old men of the mountains.

    ¡®Perrin,¡¯ James muttered beneath his breath, ¡®you were taken by the Kloven into the mountains¡­ but you were just a boy! How can it be you?¡¯

    ¡®So what¡¯s he doing here?¡¯ James asked, trying not to succumb to the uncertainty now boiling within his head. ¡®Your father said he was mad. What happened to him if he¡¯s so untouchable?¡¯

    ¡®I said that he is immortal, not infallible,¡¯ the woman retorted. ¡®The cause of the monk¡¯s madness is a mystery. All we know is that ten turns ago he appeared one morning, standing before the Citadel gates. Somehow he had evaded the sentries within the outer forests, as well as those upon the bridge fording the lake. He would not answer the hails of the guards, but merely stared up at the sky as though he were deaf as well as blind. The guards were foolish enough to lay hands upon him when he did not respond, and were promptly tossed into the lake like helpless children. It was only when my father approached him that he spoke the tongue of our people.

    ¡®We have few dealings with the world outside of the Gelding, but the legend of the Kloven is known to us and could not be chanced. There is an oft¡¯ told tale of one such monk who faced an entire army that had laid siege to a peaceful settlement in his keeping. Of the two hundred barbarians that faced him that day, only one survived to tell of the encounter. Whether there is any truth to such a tale, the council of lords decided it prudent not to make enemy of such a man.

    ¡®However, it was not long before my father discovered that the monk was not of sound mind. Of the many hours they spent in conversation, only two fragments of information made any sense. He told my father that he was named Kloven-Perrin and that he must be granted access to the summit of the Clyst to meditate.

    ¡®And it is there, upon the Watch that he has resided ever since.¡¯

    ¡®Ten years? Up there?¡¯ James asked incredulously.

    Balen¡¯s daughter sighed with irritation.

    ¡®He paces the Watch endlessly, talking to himself in a tongue none can decipher. He is guarded day and night, but in all those turns he has not altered his behaviour nor uttered a string of words that has made any sense.¡¯

    ¡®And my life depends on him?¡¯ James barked. ¡®A bloody madman?¡¯

    Balen¡¯s daughter smiled ruefully as they reached the end of the corridor and back into sunlight. ¡®Unfortunately for you, that is indeed so.¡¯

    James groaned when they emerged to find another of the cage-like funnels, and soon the sound of his screams once more filled the air as they took their second jump into the ever greater heights of the tree. The great white wall of the tree pressed upon them, and again they alighted upon a ledge that settled beneath them as though conjured out of thin air.

    There followed another journey through twisting corridors and precarious ledges before they finally mounted the last of the Risers.

    This last flight was perhaps the most terrifying, for the white tree no longer resembled a sheer wall, but a rapidly narrowing column. The final Catch, when it settled beneath them, was scarcely large enough for them all to land upon, and were it not for Tavin¡¯s hand so tightly grasping his arm, James would surely have fallen to his death.

    ¡®We reach the entrance to the Watch,¡¯ Balen¡¯s daughter intoned, solemnly touching the hilt of her wooden sword. ¡®There is scant space above, so I will accompany the prisoner alone.¡¯

    ¡®Jame is our charge,¡¯ Leander replied through gritted teeth. ¡®If any are to accompany him, it will be us.¡¯

    ¡®As you wish, cousin,¡¯ the woman replied tartly.

    And so saying, she grasped James¡¯ arm and pulled him along the narrow ledge. The wind howled across them, tugging James¡¯ robes and threatening to unbalance his clumsy feet. The trunk of the tree was now less than twenty feet wide, and as he trailed behind the young woman, he pressed himself flat against the curving wall, the only solidity remaining in a space consumed by sky.

    When the platform ended, it was replaced thereafter by a flight of stairs protruding from the diminished trunk like the stumps of severed branches. With dismay, James¡¯ eyes followed the precarious way ahead, the crude staircase ascending around the curve of the trunk high above their heads. Without hesitation, he lunged for a small opening cut into the wall and dropped obstinately to the ground.

    ¡®That¡¯s it,¡¯ James cried, trembling violently. ¡®I can¡¯t go any further, I simply can¡¯t!¡¯

    Balen¡¯s daughter sneered down at him.

    ¡®A bird afraid of flight,¡¯ she grimaced, tugging at his arm, ¡®a coward afraid of height! I see that the entertainment you provide is of a limited variety indeed!¡¯

    ¡®Enough!¡¯ Leander shouted above the droning wind. ¡®Tavin will take him from here.¡¯

    Reluctantly, Balen¡¯s daughter relinquished her hold and stalked away up the stairs followed closely by her cousin. With Tavin¡¯s help, James stood, pressing himself against the wall as his robes fluttered and snapped around him.

    ¡®Tavin, please, I can¡¯t do this!¡¯ he pleaded.

    But the young man only shook his head in regret before hoisting him upon his back. The vertiginous stair rounded upon James¡¯ vision and he quickly clamped his eyes shut as the wind bore down upon them. The younger man swayed with his burden, but his ascent was unfaltering and it wasn¡¯t long before his disconcerting movement ceased.

    With the concealing trunk of the tree now beneath them, the view he had tried so desperately to avoid since gaining its heights now shuddered back into his consciousness. The sky was the first to demand his attention, a depthless blue which seemed to stretch on forever. And then it was the encircling mountains, pushing through the layer of forest and hoisting it into the sky in peaks of bronze and copper. But it was the view below that almost undid him, for the crater valley was now reduced to a monstrous pit; the shimmering lake at its centre a mere pond at his feet.

    Hurriedly, he pulled his gaze from these sights and back to those gathered around him. With his arm braced around Tavin¡¯s lean frame, he saw that they were perched upon the last of the perilous ledges adorning the white tower. A few paces away, two ornately carved posts gave entrance to what Balen¡¯s daughter had called The Watch; a small flat roof bounded by a railing no higher than his knees.

    Like a child reaching for the pillared legs of its parent, James lurched for this last bastion of solidity and clasped a hand around each of their carved forms. Only after he had wedged himself between did he did he allow his gaze to rise, seeing for the first time the man who held his life so precariously in his hands. He realised now that what he had previously thought to have been the tattered remains of a flag, fluttering from the top of the tower, was in fact the rotting garments that hung in shreds from the man¡¯s emaciated body. Perhaps once they had been the brilliant yellow robes he remembered from his dream, but time beyond reckoning had reduced them to the blackened rags barely fit to cover the frail body beneath.

    Another measure of the monk¡¯s time upon the summit was imprinted upon the weathered ground at his feet. Ten years of endless pacing had left its mark, etching a shallow groove within which he was trapped like a marble enslaved to an unbroken circle. A profound sadness descended upon James then, for the monk looked anything but the dangerous man Balen¡¯s daughter had described. It was more like watching the forlorn footsteps of a lost child or the senile wanderings of an old man.

    In the centre of the circular space, James noticed a tiny object sitting within the middle of the circle worn by the monk¡¯s endless pacing. It was a small hoop of wood, blackened and tarnished by age, a focal point that seemed to pull the old man around it like a lost moon caught within its gravity. With blinding force, a memory of the two young boys running along the shifting weave of the Willow Barrow returned to his mind. He saw again the ring of willowing that the boy¡¯s younger brother had made as they looked out across the meadow to their home beneath the mountains. The boy had tossed it into the wind where it had hovered for a moment like a Frisbee before it had fallen to the ground at Perrin¡¯s feet.

    ¡®Well? What are you waiting for?¡¯

    James flinched, brought suddenly back to reality by the scornful voice at his back.

    ¡®Your audience with Kloven-Perrin awaits,¡¯ Balen¡¯s daughter mocked.

    James turned uncertainly, his hands clutching the carved posts as though they were the only things keeping him aloft. Balen¡¯s daughter smiled back at him mirthlessly, her uncompromising stance rigid with impatience. But Leander¡¯s expression was harder to read. Brushing a wisp of dark hair from her eyes, she returned his scrutiny with what might have been concern. But as her gaze lingered, she seemed to hesitate, offering instead her silent affirmation with a curt nod of her head.

    Unwilling to trust his legs across the precarious rooftop, James got onto his hands and knees and crawled along the ground, the cold wind raking its fingers through him. Reaching the shallow depression, he tentatively got to his feet and nervously regarded the old man as he approached. The monk¡¯s opaque eyes stared through him, as sightless and unyielding as marbles. His skin was as dark as cured leather, his head completely bald as though once seared by fire. And yet¡­ the shadow of the boy he had once been remained within the sun-blasted skin of his face. The boyish features were hardened and more robust, but they were unmistakably those of the boy he had last glimpsed in a dream.

    ¡®What did they do to you?¡¯ James muttered as he regarded the darkened husk of the man the boy had become.

    Abruptly, he came to a halt. The sightless eyes continued to stare through him, his blackened lips mouthing words that could not be heard. A gust of wind pulled the ragged remains of the man¡¯s robes across his body, exposing the gauntness of his skeletal frame.

    Before James could utter a word, the old man moved. James flinched, fearing he would be struck. But instead, he merely shuffled to the side and resumed his endless walk.

    ¡®Return,¡¯ Balen¡¯s daughter commanded, ¡®you have failed.¡¯

    James winced, and turned awkwardly on the spot. The woman made to walk forward but he raised his hand, warding her back.

    ¡®I haven¡¯t even tried yet!¡¯ he shouted.

    Goaded by the terrible implications of failing, James limped forward, again placing himself in the path of the monk¡¯s mindless pacing. The old man came to a halt before him, his wizened face betraying no hint of reaction to the obstruction once more barring his way. James was about to speak when the old man again proceeded to shuffle past.

    Instinctively, James raised his hand, pressing it to the man¡¯s bony chest. Remembering all too late what Balen¡¯s daughter had said of the guards that had been thrown into the lake, he recoiled, suddenly petrified that he would be cast from the tower. But the old man remained perfectly still, only a faint flicker of movement continuing to linger upon his blackened lips.

    When Kloven-Perrin finally spoke, its sound sent a cold shiver rippling down James¡¯ spine. The voice was cracked and hoarse as though his vocal chords had atrophied from years of silence. But gradually, his fragile words took shape in the air between them¡­

    ¡®¡­ a place of rubble, tottering towers and bridges unsound¡­ brine at its depths, gulls in its rafters¡­¡¯

    ¡®I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t understand,¡¯ James interrupted, his hand trembling upon the man¡¯s chest.

    ¡®¡­ within the stone vaults of the columbarium¡­ there, I saw him walking among the dead¡­¡¯ the man said, his voice trailing away into a hoarse whisper.

    ¡®You saw who?¡¯ James asked uncertainly. ¡®Who did you see?¡¯

    But his question went unanswered, the old man¡¯s gaze lingering upon a point beyond physical distance.

    ¡®My¡­ my name¡¯s James,¡¯ he continued. ¡®I don¡¯t know how I got here, but I¡¯m in big trouble!¡¯

    James hesitated, feeling suddenly out of his depth and uncertain how to proceed. Looking over his shoulder he caught the eye of Balen¡¯s daughter and felt a wave of panic wash over him.

    ¡®Bloody hell, they want to kill me, and only you can stop them doing it!¡¯ he shouted.

    The old man¡¯s head tilted to the side, his sightless eyes narrowing. For the first time, the monk appeared to register his presence, a sensation which raised gooseflesh across his body.

    ¡®I need your help,¡¯ James said, taking a nervous step backwards.

    The old man remained motionless as the wind tugged at his rotting garments, his body as still as a stone statue wrapped in rags. Only the sightless white orbs of his eyes appeared to be alive, conveying a scrutiny more penetrating than any he had ever experienced before.

    At last, the man¡¯s darkened lips twitched and closed, pressing together with unsettling finality. Then, with what might have been sadness or pity, he shook his head, sending the searchlight of his focus recoiling back into the oblivion from which it had emerged. This time, when the monk strode forward, James had to stumble from out of his path.

    ¡®It is over!¡¯ Balen¡¯s daughter shouted triumphantly.

    The young woman strode confidently forward, and in sudden desperation, James lurched out of her grasp, lumbering into the centre of the tower. Balen¡¯s daughter hesitated, stopping dead in her tracks, her satisfied grin replaced by a grimace of terror.

    ¡®Do not!¡¯ she gasped.

    But it was too late.

    James was already stooping towards the ground, his desperate eyes fixed upon the blackened ring that lay like a scorched circle in the pristine white of the wooden floor. The ring was as smooth as polished stone and at first his fingers fumbled clumsily across its glassy surface, but at last he grasped it, raising it into the air in a trembling fist.

    Balen¡¯s daughter recoiled from the sight, scrambling from the rooftop like a frightened child. But James no longer cared about her. He looked down in fascination at his hand and the hoop of black curled between his fingers. A familiar numbness pulsated in his hand and traced its way up his arm, filling the left side of his body like a swarm of bees. But for once it wasn¡¯t the cold, unyielding fingers of the cancer still residing within his brain, but a generous warmth, imbued with feelings of love and affection so overwhelming that it brought tears of joy to his eyes. The incessant howling of the wind receded from him, and somewhere far away, distant bells chimed upon the air.

    A violent tearing of fabric cut through the silence, bringing with it the return of the howling wind. Compelled by the jarring assault on his senses, James looked up to find the monk towering above him; his white marble eyes blazing with cold hatred from the blackened husk of his face.

    Gripped by terror, James froze on the spot, his hand opening in a spasm of contracting muscle. The ring hit the ground with a hollow thud, before rolling like a dropped penny across the wooden floor. Bracing his face between his arms, he held his breath and peered up at the monk whose mouth was now open in a snarl of blackened teeth. Somewhere out of sight, the ring spun, rattling away the last of its energy; the sound of its final retort loud despite the wind that howled across them. When silence registered its final resting, the old man¡¯s fury suddenly dissolved back into the vacuous depths from which it had sprung. No longer mindful of his presence, he dutifully reclaimed the ring from where it had fetched up before returning it to the epicentre of his diminutive domain.

    Cold fingers roughly closed around his arm, dragging him savagely out of the space. Balen¡¯s daughter was livid with rage as she pulled him unceremoniously down the precarious stairs.

    ¡®Fool!¡¯ the young woman seethed as James sprawled upon the platform of the Catch. ¡®You risked all our lives with such a reckless action!¡¯

    Before he could recover his senses, James was again dragged to his feet and pitched through the arched doorway within which he had cowered earlier. The room they entered had been hollowed out of what little remained of the tree¡¯s diminished girth. Roughly circular in shape, the chamber was empty but for five ominous holes, which sat in the middle of the room like the gaping mouths of sewer drains.

    ¡®What the hell are you doing?¡¯ James cried desperately.

    With a painful shove, his feet were brought to the edge of one of the holes.

    ¡®Tavin, help me!¡¯ he yelled, as the young man entered the small room with Leander. But Tavin remained silent, turning his pained eyes to Leander.

    ¡®Calapine,¡¯ Leander¡¯s voice snapped, ¡®give him more time. He spoke with the monk in his own tongue. We cannot know what transpired between them!¡¯

    ¡®Time has been wasted enough!¡¯ Calapine seethed.

    Pressing her mouth close to James¡¯ ear, her last words were for him and him alone.

    ¡®Your gods have failed you!¡¯

    With a violent shove, James pitched backwards. His bare feet teetered for a moment on the edge of the hole and then he was falling like a stone into darkness.

 23 - Chamber of Bones

    James hurtled down through pitch-blackness. His screams measured the depth of his fall, the unseen walls of the tube slithering across his flailing arms like polished glass. A deafening explosion erupted through the air as his body crashed through a barrier stretched across the darkness. His body tensed, his teeth drawing blood as they clamped uncontrollably on his tongue. In that instant, he thought he was already dead, but as his robes continued to flutter crazily around him, he plunged on into the black.

    With his mind still reeling with the impact, another, and then another of the invisible barriers broke across his body. Accompanied by the shrill sound of tearing, a sudden cascade of paper-like barriers fell across his path. The impacts jarred painfully through his body, but gradually, imperceptibly, his fall began to arrest. The unseen membranes grew steadily thicker and soon his descent had slowed to a fumbling crawl, the frayed edges whispering across his face and arms like the tattered skins of broken drums. Finally, a more rigid material settled beneath his feet which distended downwards, robbing his body of its last momentum. There was a wet, tearing rip, and then bright light erupted all around him.

    His hands instinctively reached up to protect his face, but when the ground rushed up to meet him, he sank without pain into its yielding embrace. With his lungs still labouring in his chest, he stared uncomprehendingly at what lay beneath him; a carpet of swirling brown fronds which supported his weight like the countless springs of a giant mattress. Smiling grimly, he at last understood the ordeal he had just been through: the Gelder equivalent of an express elevator straight to the bottom of the tree!

    To left and right, stony-faced guards loomed over him, grasping his arms in a painful grip. Without uttering a word, they dragged him across the small chamber to where a wooden walkway surrounded the carpet of springs like a jetty skirting a pond. There they waited with James pinned between them, as the distant sound of tearing heralded another arrival from above. The sound grew louder until a cacophony of tearing filled the air, sending vibrations rippling through the walls and floor of the chamber. A circular dimple formed in the ceiling which slowly distended, eventually popping like an overripe fruit. Calapine dropped from the ruptured hole, gracefully landing moments later within the pool of fronds. The walls and floor continued to tremble as Leander and Tavin followed suit, but Calapine¡¯s belligerent stride was already carrying her forward, her handsome face distorted by the ugliness of her rage. Raising a clenched fist at her side, the statue-like poise of the guards dissolved as they broke into step behind her. Before either Tavin or Leander could be birthed from the ceiling, James was dragged out of sight.

    The corridor they followed was long and straight, and when they eventually emerged, it was into a wide, sunlit gallery. Huge arched windows revealed tantalising glimpses of the interior from what was now ground level. Spread before them, the sprawling acres of gardens and woodland receded into the distance, dominated by the towering wall of the Citadel trees. However, they hadn¡¯t travelled far along the wide concourse before they veered sharply from it, plunging once more through a portal carved within the vast wall of the tower.

    A dusky gloom quickly enveloped them as Calapine¡¯s ringing footsteps filled the narrow space. The tunnel descended steadily downwards, a hollow, droning wind issued from far below, carrying with it the musty scent of decay. Before long, the scant sunlight that accompanied their passage was superseded by the baleful glow of bioluminescent plants, revealing walls no longer of wood but of roughly-hewn clay.

    As they descended ever deeper beneath the ground, the walls of clay finally gave way to an altogether different material. At first, James thought it was yet another wooden corridor, imprinted with Gelder carvings. But when he studied their forms more closely, he recognised the undulating designs for what they were; the walls, the ceiling, even the very ground beneath their feet, was decorated in bones. Mottled green with moss and lichen, tessellations of rib and skull, clavicle and femur, imprinted their macabre sensibilities upon the eye. Every bone of the human body combined to tell him that he was approaching the place of his death.

    The guards tightened their grip as James convulsed, suddenly desperate to escape this dreadful place to which he was bound.

    ¡®Please, no more!¡¯ he whimpered. ¡®I never meant any of this!¡¯

    Calapine grunted derisively, as though appalled at his display of cowardice, but from afar he heard the voice of his only friend; a sound which echoed out of the gloom like the sad notes of a dying song.

    ¡®We are with you, Jame,¡¯ Tavin called. ¡®Be strong, you will not be alone in this.¡¯

    There might have been a time when he first arrived in this strange world, when the idea of his death might have presented the hope of escape from his psychosis. But now he knew differently. A feeling lodged deep within his gut told him that to die in this world was to surrender his life in his own. Finally, the barrier of disbelief and denial he had erected around himself ever since leaving the House of Galendar, broke with the absolute certainty of his impending death.

    Amidst the lonely drone of the wind and the echo of their footfalls, James began to cry.

    ***

    After what felt like an endless descent underground, James was confused when they finally emerged back into sunlight. Blinking tears from his eyes, he gazed out at a huge cavern similarly bedecked in a skein of bones. It was, after all, a place buried beneath the ground, but one illuminated by a vast hole that gave entrance to the sky far above.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    The air was chill with damp and suffused with the scent of ancient decay. The faraway roar of the Citadel trees echoed in the air as the small party made their way forward. The patterning of bones continued beneath their feet, a great swirl culminating in a platform of roughly hewn stone. A shaft of sunlight illuminated the white robes in attendance, a loose ring of white surrounding the raised stone.

    When the guards drew to a halt, Lord Balen greeted them with a modest bow. James had expected to find the man as triumphant and gloating as his daughter, but at the last he seemed to approach the moment of his execution with something akin to respect. But, before the lord could offer words in confirmation of his bearing, Leander strode forward, roughly shouldering her cousin aside.

    ¡®My father trusted you, uncle!¡¯ Leander spat. ¡®He bore Jame to you in order to secure his life, not to end it!¡¯

    ¡®Silence cousin!¡¯ Calapine seethed, reaching forward to take her arm.

    Leander shrugged her hand away and glared up at her uncle, none of her fire diminished by the oppressive atmosphere of the chamber. Balen raised his hand, a flicker of his former frustration marking his pale face with a frown.

    ¡®You forget yourself, Leander,¡¯ he said softly. ¡®The time of reckoning is upon the stranger. Evidently, the monk did not intercede on his behalf. Thus, the former ruling of the Citadel Lords must stand.¡¯

    ¡®But my father¡­¡¯

    ¡®Your father was a fool!¡¯ Lord Balen shouted.

    The tall man flinched at the severity of his own words, but his anger seemed to grow as though only the loss of his brother could allow such spiteful words to issue from him.

    ¡®In times of war there is no place for such men. I loved your father as any brother could, but he was a gardener who knew nothing of the perils of war. The fall of his house and the ending of his life is testament enough to that!¡¯

    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed and he glared down at his brother¡¯s daughter as though addressing her own complicity.

    ¡®Your father may have been content to let such creatures sit at his table and bring ruin upon his house, but that will not be tolerated here!¡¯

    ¡®But¡­¡¯ Leander replied, her voice now pleading.

    ¡®But nothing!¡¯ Balen cried.

    A deathly silence followed Lord Balen¡¯s outburst and when Calapine took Leander¡¯s arm, she grudgingly relented, unwilling or unable to meet James¡¯ eyes as she passed beside him.

    All the while, James had regarded the exchange as though from afar. Leander¡¯s repeated attempts to spare his life, despite the formidable men and women poised against her, stirred his emotions. But he knew, perhaps better than she did herself, that it had all been for nothing.

    ¡®Calapine, bring the barbarian forward,¡¯ Balen said, his voice once more calm and composed.

    ¡®His name is Jame!¡¯ Tavin shouted angrily.

    Annoyed by Tavin¡¯s outburst, Calapine grasped James by the shoulder and shoved him forward, until he stood beneath her father¡¯s hard grey eyes.

    ¡®In life you were our enemy. In death you shall be pardoned. May the forest cleanse the corruption from your bones,¡¯ Balen intoned gravely.

    With a curt nod of his head, Lord Balen again motioned his daughter forward, and together she and James mounted the stone platform and into the circle of light.

    James drew back when the hooded figure emerged from the darkness, but Calapine held him in place. The man was taller than any he had encountered in this world and dressed from head to foot in robes of black. His face was obscured behind the drooping hood, but he felt his hidden eyes turned upon him.

    Calapine faced James squarely as the executioner came to a halt before them.

    ¡®You will face the blade alone. If you are the coward I take you for, you will try to flee whence my hand leaves your shoulder. This, I can assure you, will result in death far more painful.¡¯

    Calapine unsheathed her sword and bowed, offering the glistening white blade across her open palms. The executioner regarded the proffered weapon for a long time before finally claiming it, holding it delicately between his fingers as though testing its unfamiliar weight.

    With one last lingering grin of triumph, Calapine left the platform and joined the other lords of the Citadel, their white robes smouldering above the sea of green bones at their feet. James stared bleakly past their solemn faces and focused on the only two people he knew. Tavin unflinchingly returned his gaze, managing yet to offer him a smile despite the gentle hitching of his shoulders. But Leander¡¯s gaze was far away, her head slowly shaking from side to side as though unable to believe what was happening.

    ¡®It is time.¡¯

    Lord Balen¡¯s voice echoed into the chamber, causing the executioner to step forward. The man lifted his arm from his side, the white sword extending outwards, where it halted in the air without the slightest tremor. Clasping his sweating hands in front of him, James closed his eyes upon the cavern of bones. The last thing he saw was Leander, her pale, scarred face contorted by emotions he was no nearer to deciphering. He heard the movement of the hooded man¡¯s robes, and taking a deep, shuddering breath, waited for it all to end.

    In the darkness behind his eyelids, there was a sharp intake of breath, followed by raised voices. There was the sound of movement close at hand, and then a startled cry from the executioner.

    When he opened his eyes, he found the white blade halted mere inches from his neck. Staggering backwards, he regarded the other man now standing between himself and his executioner, his bony thumb and finger clasped to the point of the white blade, where they had halted the sword in mid-flight. The face that greeted him was an almost featureless black within the gloom of the cavern, but it was a face he now recognised. Like a statue hewn from obsidian, the monk, Kloven-Perrin, grinned benignly back at him.

    As though waking from a trance, the hooded executioner lurched backwards, leaving the sword quivering between the monk¡¯s thumb and finger. The man fell, his hood swept from his head as he hit the ground. His incredulous eyes sought those of Lord Balen, but without waiting for reply, he scrambled from the platform and back into the shadows that had borne him.

    At last, the monk turned to regard the awestruck faces of the crowd. But he was no longer smiling. The assembled lords shifted uneasily under his gaze, their disbelieving eyes trained upon the sword still quivering between the monk¡¯s fingers like an arrow impaled in blackened wood.

    When Kloven-Perrin spoke, gone was the feeble voice of the old man James had met upon the summit of the white tower. The voice that now carried to the furthest reaches of the cavern was deep and resonant with implied danger.

    ¡®Killing this man would have been the gravest mistake of your lives.¡¯

 24 - Forest Moon

    James gazed out of the window to a small babbling brook, winding its way between alien trees. It was late in the afternoon and the sky above the distant wall of the Citadel was burnished with the golden light of the setting sun. The sight of the huge wall of trees, and the vast interior it contained, was a sight more beautiful than he had ever experienced. But it was not enough.

    With a disdainful shift of focus, he removed the beauty that surrounded him and replaced it with the uncertain reflection of his own face. In the warped glass of the window, the eyes that stared back at him were those of a stranger. A thick growth of beard now covered his jaw and the first curls were beginning to form in his lengthening hair. It felt like an eternity had passed since he¡¯d first found himself stuck in this world, and yet these bodily extrusions told him that barely a month had passed since he had first awoken in the House of Galendar.

    Following Kloven-Perrin¡¯s intervention at his execution, James had sunk into deep apathy. Perhaps it had been the shock of his near death, or the continued uncertainty of his future, but he had left that woeful place beneath the ground deeply changed.

    The monk had said very little in those moments following the sparing of his life, but they were words that remained with him still, seared upon his memory like invisible wounds¡­

    ¡®I was not fully aware of the role I would play in this, yet I had not envisaged the possibility of our saviour¡¯s death at the hands of those he would be saving.

    ¡®Ward this man well, lest you wish to abandon hope altogether.¡¯

    Saviour.

    Never before had the word implied such dread nor conveyed such falsehood. Once again his life had been spared, only to be confronted by the groundless assertions that he might be some answer to the nameless evil plaguing these people.

    After Kloven-Perrin¡¯s address to the lords of the Citadel, he had returned his focus upon James. His sightless eyes had stared right through him, but the expression fixed to his dark face had been one of unnerving reverence. At the last moment, the monk¡¯s head had tilted to the side, before whispering words only he could hear, ¡®Not yet¡¯.

    The astounding vigour which had momentarily gifted the monk with the power and dexterity to halt the plunging blade had then quickly leeched from his body, leaving behind the dazed old man he had met upon the summit of the Clyst. Then, without another word, he had turned to shuffle past the incredulous lords of the Citadel, back to the distant summit of the white tower.

    That had been more than a week ago. Days of uncertainty and foreboding that seemed only to deepen as time drew on. There was nothing left to do, no one to offer direction, no one to answer his many questions. He had not seen Lord Balen or his daughter since that day in the chamber of bones, yet he felt their grudging acquiescence would not last indefinitely.

    With a scowl, he finally turned from the window and trudged back into the shadows of his room. The room was small and sparsely furnished, a low wooden stool sat in one corner, a narrow bed in the other. The light from the setting sun fell upon walls covered with the intricate carvings of wildflowers and strange cat-like animals.

    When he reached the bed, he dropped into its yielding softness and closed his eyes. He hadn¡¯t slept for days but he knew that tonight would be no different. Still, he tried to quieten the ceaseless prowling of his tired mind and seek the escape only sleep could allow. With a sigh of frustration, he eventually opened his stinging eyes and stared bleakly back into the room. For the hundredth time he gazed at the carved walls, trying in vain to repeat the feat of entering the walls. But it wasn¡¯t long before he gave up, unable to repeat what he had only previously accomplished by mistake.

    His eyes narrowed when they alighted upon a dirty bundle of material peeking from beneath the bed. At first he was confused, uncertain how such an object could have escaped his scrutiny for so long, but then he dropped his arm to the floor and hauled it onto his lap. Frowning, he regarded the travel-worn sack that had accompanied him across the many miles from Galendar. Heaped between his legs, it looked more like the discarded skin of a gutted animal, covered in filth and the dark splatter of dried weevil blood. With unsteady fingers, he slowly untied the drawstring and began to remove its contents, staring at each item in turn. The objects seemed alien to him now, like artefacts unearthed from another age. Mostly they were oddments of food; packets of dried fruit, the darkened husks of dry bread, a handful of the curious blue apples filched from the village of Venn. But he also found the dirtied sandals given to him by Bettiny, as well as the slender wooden dagger, somehow recovered from the carnage of the demon¡¯s attack.

    For a long time, he merely stared at these objects as though they held some obscure explanation for his being here. They gave proof, of a sort, that he had indeed lived these many days beneath another sun, had indeed witnessed the unspeakable horrors of monsters that ran through the trees and flew through the air¡­

    As James numbly observed the row of objects upon his bed, he reflected upon another thought that had been troubling him. Next to his many other worries, this was something altogether less tangible. Yet, over the course of the past week, it had grown steadily within him to the point where it had robbed him of his ability to sleep.

    Something in this place was wrong.

    At first, James had merely dismissed it as the palpable groaning of the trees that formed the great walls of the Citadel, but this was just a dull hum of grudging acquiescence compared to that other tension he felt in the air. No, what he felt was something altogether more sinister. It was like a sickness, hiding beneath the veneer of goodness and vitality that surrounded him like a malignant lump beneath the skin. And at night the feeling intensified, penetrating his mind with screams only he could hear.

    As the days wore on, an explanation of sorts wormed its way into his mind: somewhere within the walls of the Citadel, someone was dying a horrible and painful death.

    With slow, mechanical movements, James continued to empty the sack onto the bed, until his fingers finally closed upon a folded square of material. Frowning, he drew out the unfamiliar object and held it between his hands. Its colour was dazzling in the muted hues of the carved room, like a square of blue cut from the sky.

    As realisation dawned, his hands hurriedly unfurled the material until he held the impossibility of his hospital gown between his trembling hands. The fabric seemed to glow with a light of its own, the rent within its shoulder like a black star, gilt by the dried blood of his arrow wound. Amidst the peace and serenity of the small room, the gown looked garish and obscene, a thing out of place and time. Yet its significance fell upon him like a heavy weight: how could he have forgotten this most important physical link with his other life?

    Spurred on by this troubling thought, his hands quickly fumbled within the material, only becoming still when they had located what they had been seeking. Between trembling thumbs and fingers he read the words woven into its white label: ¡°65% Polyester, 35% Cotton, Made in Pakistan.¡±

    The words were almost painful to his eyes, words that gave proof beyond his own fragile grasp of reality that he was indeed from another world, a world that still existed beyond the occluding veil his mind had raised before it. With dismay, he realised that he had already begun to forget that other world existed!

    Suddenly, the phantom screams that had plagued his nights burst forth from the very air that surrounded him. His skin broke out in a cold sweat, his hands clamping uncontrollably upon the gown. The light within the room became unbearably bright, and he looked down at the crumbled fabric between his fingers to find that it was ablaze with incandescent fire. James screamed as his hands began to burn. The skin blistered and peeled from his fingers, his bunched muscles and tendons raising a foul smoke into the air.

    A loud knocking at the door intruded upon his senses and instantly the fire was extinguished. The screaming sickness fled from his senses and he was left panting, staring in disbelief at his hands. The horror of peeled skin and seared muscle had vanished, his hospital gown once more a pool of inert fabric between his fingers.

    ¡®What the hell is happening to me?¡¯ James groaned.

    Another round of loud knocking made him glance to the door as it slowly slid aside, revealing the slender figure of his friend, Tavin.

    ¡®Is something the matter, Jame?¡¯ he asked, stepping lightly into the room. ¡®I heard you call out. Were you having another nightmare?¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t know,¡¯ James replied uncertainly.

    Tavin smiled, tilting his head.

    ¡®Jame, this evening you will accompany me on a walk. You have languished here long enough.¡¯

    ¡®Not now, Tavin,¡¯ James groaned, returning his gaze to the crumpled fabric on his lap.

    ¡®What is that?¡¯ Tavin asked, surprise registering in his voice as he walked further into the room. ¡®You look scared, is something amiss?¡¯

    James sighed and slowly prised his rigid fingers from the blue material.

    ¡®It¡¯s nothing,¡¯ he replied, roughly stuffing the garment back inside the sack, followed swiftly by the other items he had lined up on the bed. ¡®I must have nodded off to sleep and not realised. Yes, a nightmare, that¡¯s all it was.¡¯

    The young man¡¯s interruption annoyed him, and after throwing his sack back to the floor, he regarded Tavin sternly. Since his stay of execution, now more than a week ago, he had lived alone in quiet isolation. He had been given his own little house upon the interior when he had refused the lodgings provided for his companions; a precarious dwelling that had dangled hundreds of feet above within the branches of the tree-city of Kellandria. But it had been more than a fear of heights that had made him distance himself from his companions from Galendar. What he had witnessed in that cavern of bones had left him with a growing mistrust of the people he had thought so honourable and humane.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡®How can you people have done such a thing?¡¯ James said, at last giving voice to these troubling thoughts.

    Tavin was taken aback and for a moment seemed unable to reply.

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ he asked tentatively.

    ¡®You know what I bloody mean! That horrible place decorated in human bones,¡¯ James said through clenched teeth.

    ¡®It is not what you think,¡¯ Tavin replied, an amused smile parting his lips. ¡®The Hall of the Dead is what your people might call a cemetery or graveyard. Other than its questionable use as the site for your execution, there is nothing sinister or malign about its construction.

    ¡®We know something of the burial traditions of the other races of this world. Those that choose to bury or cremate the bodies of those that have passed. But we of the Gelding consider practices such as these barbaric. These kinds of rituals fixate only upon death, when it is life that should be celebrated.¡¯

    ¡®How the hell is that place a celebration?¡¯ James interrupted. ¡®Playing around with people¡¯s bones like that? It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ well, it¡¯s just wrong!¡¯ he said stubbornly.

    Tavin¡¯s smile widened, but he shook his head in patient disagreement.

    ¡®We believe that once life has departed the body, there is nothing left, in physical terms, to mourn. Yet, that which remains is celebrated by our people for marking the passage of the life that was lived. We do not hide or destroy the bones of our dead, but revere them as symbols of life¡¯s passing.

    ¡®It is customary in our culture for those who are near to death to climb into the trees to meet their final moments. Death is faced alone and without fear, a ritual we call, ¡°The Last Walk¡±. In time, all that remains of these people are their bones, which eventually fall to the forest floor, unnamed and unattached to those who once loved them.

    ¡®The Hall of the Dead is admittedly somewhat different, created as it was at the end of the Bitter War. Many hundreds of our people died in the defence of the Citadel, and those that fell in the valley beyond were interred within the cavern as a form of remembrance.

    ¡®The bones that decorate the walls of the hall are akin to the tombstones or cairns built by other races to mark remembrance, yet, again, the distinction is somewhat different, for in this instance we do not ascribe significance to the bones of individuals, but rather to the collective celebration of the lives given in salvation.¡¯

    Tavin paused, searching his friend¡¯s face as he attempted to make his meaning more clear.

    ¡®There is matter, then there is life, then there is matter once more. We live our lives in the fragile, transitory space between, and once it has departed the vessel it once inhabited, it is beyond the need to preserve in anything but the minds of those that remain.¡¯

    James was not entirely convinced by Tavin¡¯s words, yet what he said contained some strange logic when he considered what he had observed of these curious people already. He thought again of the dead villagers they had worked to free from their nooses, and the solemn reverence with which they had been laid to rest; these had not been the actions of an uncaring or malicious people.

    Gradually, something of the foreboding he still carried from the chamber of bones began to lessen, but it was not long before it was replaced by a more troubling thought. The disturbing hallucination he had just suffered reminded him of the inexplicable screams that had plagued his nights these past few days. His tentative speculation, that someone other than himself was being held within this prison, returned with more certainty. Lord Balen¡¯s ruthless quest for vengeance had very nearly taken his life; what other forms of torment might he be capable of behind closed doors?

    ¡®Who else is being held prisoner here?¡¯ James suddenly demanded. ¡®And what¡¯s being done to them?¡¯

    Tavin frowned, his smile slipping from his lips.

    ¡®The enemies of the Gelding are never taken alive. You, my friend, are something of an anomaly in that respect. There is no one else of your race residing here, other than the monk, of course.¡¯

    ¡®Well, whether you¡¯re aware of it or not, someone¡¯s being tortured here in this place!¡¯ James replied angrily.

    Tavin¡¯s frown deepened.

    ¡®How can you know of such a thing?¡¯

    ¡®I feel it!¡¯ James replied with frustration.

    ¡®A feeling?¡¯ Tavin said, his amusement returning. ¡®Tell me, do you still have trouble sleeping?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not imagining it!¡¯ James snapped.

    ¡®All you need, my friend, is some distraction,¡¯ Tavin said, ignoring his darkening mood. ¡®Come, we shall venture out together.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡¯ James said, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest.

    Tavin¡¯s jaw set firmly, and suddenly he shouted, causing James¡¯ body to stiffen.

    ¡®Get up!¡¯

    James¡¯ body complied before he could remember to protest, and he stood, greeting the smiling eyes of his friend with a resigned sigh.

    ¡®Today is special and deserves to be honoured with your presence,¡¯ Tavin said, helping James into his green robes. ¡®You will accompany me now, if only for the shortest of durations, if that is your wish.¡¯

    ¡®What the hell are you going on about?¡¯ James replied, angrily shrugging the garment into place.

    ¡®Then, you do not know what day it is?¡¯ Tavin replied mischievously.

    ¡®Bloody hell, Tavin, I haven¡¯t got the patience for this!¡¯

    His friend relented with a grin, placing his hand on his shoulder and leading him out of the room.

    ¡®Whether by chance or divine intervention, it falls upon this night to celebrate the autumn Pentaclave, the Gelder festival of the Forest Moon.¡¯

    ¡®The what?¡¯ James blustered.

    Tavin chuckled as he followed James out into the cool evening air.

    ¡®The Forest Moon Festival is celebrated at this time each turn, but only once in every five turns does the Pentaclave coincide, marked by the confluence of the two full moons. The ancient carvings of Tamblin tell of the story of our coming to this world from the forest moon, carried upon the back of the Great Seed. So, it is tonight that we celebrate the miracle of our lives and the bounty of our forests.¡¯

    For the first time in weeks, James was aware of the green moon, once more smouldering beside the larger, cratered sphere in the darkening sky. It was understandable that the Gelders would believe the moon harboured an all-consuming forest, but for James, the bright green circle in the sky had more in common with the indistinct smudge of a gas giant; that huge body of swirling gases pressed against the blackness of space.

    A distant part of his mind again pondered the curious fact that he had only observed the larger moon undergo its phases during the past month, whilst the green moon had always been full. He didn¡¯t know a great deal about astronomy, but he knew that that should not have been possible.

    A gentle breeze stirred the trees, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Something about the alignment of the two moons made him feel uneasy, and quickly he averted his gaze.

    ¡®It is also a celebration of the fecundity of our people,¡¯ Tavin continued, a mischievous glint dancing in his green eyes.

    ¡®Fertility?¡¯ James asked.

    ¡®Precisely!¡¯ Tavin laughed openly, draping his arm across his shoulder companionably. ¡®Traditionally, this is the night when men and women of age are wont to mate freely. And, since we are both strangers to Kellandria, I thought it would make us all the more approachable if we attended together, do you not think?¡¯

    ¡®Tavin, who in their right mind would be interested in¡­¡¯ James floundered, reluctant to use the word Tavin had spoken, yet unable to find another more suitable, ¡®mating with me?¡¯

    Tavin laughed merrily, quickening their pace.

    ¡®You may not have learned, since you have been languishing in your hole for the past span or more, but you have become something of a celebrity since the monk spared your life.¡¯

    ¡®I have?¡¯ James asked uncertainly.

    He remembered all too well the anger and resentment that had been generated amongst the audience of his sentencing, and could not imagine his reception being anything other than unpleasant.

    ¡®Of course! You are the first barbarian, other than the mysterious and, might I add, joyless, Kloven-Perrin, to venture into the Citadel Kingdom. You are a curiosity, a marvel! Most will never have seen your like before. And a handsome specimen at that! You will surely attract the attention of many a young maiden this night!¡¯ Tavin added with a roguish wink.

    ¡®Tavin, I¡¯m not in the mood for frivolity, nor indeed do I consider myself, or ever have considered myself, handsome! Hell! I was useless around women in my own damned world. It won¡¯t be any different here!¡¯

    James stopped walking and regarded his friend sternly.

    ¡®How can any of you celebrate after everything that¡¯s happened? Do you have no shame?¡¯

    Tavin turned to face him, a pained expression growing upon his pale face.

    ¡®Jame, we are friends, so I will speak with you plainly,¡¯ the man said, his arm braced upon his shoulder like a father reprimanding an errant son. ¡®We celebrate in earnest precisely because of the events of recent weeks. You have suffered much, this cannot be denied. Yet, have we not all suffered? Have you already forgotten my brother? Forgotten those we left behind to die in Galendar?¡¯

    James gulped air, averting his gaze from Tavin¡¯s in sudden shame.

    ¡®But what is done, is done,¡¯ Tavin continued. ¡®I shall carry my love for my brother and my lost friends until I take my last walk into the forest. There is but one life, and sorrow, doubt and fear will waste it away more surely than the passage of time ever could.¡¯ Tavin tightened his hand upon his shoulder, his earnest eyes gleaming in the moonlight. ¡®Your life has been spared, let us celebrate the fact and leave further lamentation to a day far removed from this one!¡¯

    Feeling shame beyond his capacity to look his friend in the eye, James raised his own hand and squeezed the young man¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ he muttered.

    ¡®Sorry be damned!¡¯ Tavin replied with a flourish. ¡®Let us waste not a moment longer. The festival awaits!¡¯

    They walked on together, the silence between them somehow strained despite his friend¡¯s unremitting capacity to forgive his blundering insensitivities. But it wasn¡¯t long before James realised the other man was staring at him, his eyes narrowed mischievously above his now permanent grin.

    ¡®What now?¡¯ James asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

    ¡®Oh, nothing,¡¯ Tavin replied nonchalantly.

    ¡®Come on!¡¯ James growled. ¡®What¡¯s so bloody funny?¡¯

    Tavin chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. ¡®Well, I was just thinking upon what you said. That you didn¡¯t consider yourself a handsome man¡­¡¯

    ¡®What of it?¡¯ James scowled, his anger quickly returning. ¡®Do you find that so amusing?¡¯

    ¡®Not in the least, Jame! I just happen to know of certain evidence to the contrary, that is all.¡¯

    ¡®What the hell are you going on about now?¡¯ James said, sighing with frustration.

    Now Tavin was positively beaming, delighting in the continued torment of his friend.

    ¡®I happen to know of a certain young woman of the Galendar household who holds a candle for you, that is all,¡¯ Tavin said, feigning disinterest.

    ¡®Fen?¡¯ James asked incredulously.

    Tavin¡¯s grin widened, but he shook his head.

    James turned upon him then, stopping abruptly before the stand of trees into which the brook gurgled and bubbled.

    ¡®Are you mad?¡¯ James spluttered. ¡®Leander? Unless you haven¡¯t completely taken leave of your senses you should know as well as any other that she hates my bloody guts!¡¯

    Tavin laughed again, a deep and joyful sound that made James smile despite his annoyance.

    ¡®Leander may not communicate such inclinations openly,¡¯ Tavin replied, ¡®but her desires are plain for any to see. Indeed, it is writ plainly upon her face. Something within her grows, a liking, a desire¡­¡¯

    ¡®Rubbish!¡¯ James said, walking on into the trees ahead of the younger man. But as he walked, a warm fluttering filled his stomach.

    Despite everything the spiteful woman had said to him over the past weeks, he had secretly harboured an inexplicable yearning for the enigmatic daughter of Lord Galen. He had not forgotten the impassioned defence she had made for him, nor the way she had looked at him in those moments before he had shut his eyes upon the executioner.

    Could that have been anything more than mere duty?

    Try as he might, it was impossible to imagine Leander could have feelings for anyone, least of all for the very man she presumably blamed for her father¡¯s death. James thought then of Tavin¡¯s brother, Kirrin, the man who had marked James¡¯ return from execution with barely concealed disappointment. Since the beginning, he had noticed that Kirrin and Leander shared some kind of affinity for one another. However tenuously affection might be given by the fierce young woman, it appeared to have been given to him.

    ¡®Your brother,¡¯ James said quietly.

    ¡®My brother surely tries,¡¯ Tavin reflected, his smile lessening somewhat. ¡®Yet, how shall I put it? I believe he quests at the wrong tree in this respect.¡¯

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯

    ¡®It is true that they share a closeness derived in no small part from an event shared in their past,¡¯ Tavin replied carefully, his face darkening somewhat. ¡®But that is a story not for the telling on such a night as this.¡¯

    Tavin clamped his hand companionably upon his shoulder and propelled him on, his smile reigniting in a blaze across his face.

    ¡®For now, you must content yourself enough to know that upon this night, you are almost as desirable to the fairer flesh as the man walking beside you!¡¯

    Smiling in spite of his exasperation, James followed his friend on into the woods.

 25 - Festival

    It wasn¡¯t long before James¡¯ preoccupied mind was halted by the sounds of music and laughter drifting through the trees. The sound was at the same time miraculous and wonderful, suffused with such joy and delight that he suddenly felt unsteady on his feet. After the sorrows and horrors of the past weeks, that such sounds could exist in this world was almost too much to bear. With tentative, almost frightened movements, he followed his friend from out of the trees.

    The last golden rays of sunlight gilt the tops of the distant Citadel walls, throwing the interior into deepening shadows. But within the endless gardens and meadows spread beneath the walls, thousands of colourful lanterns were ablaze like constellations of dancing stars. Here and there, bonfires shone, illuminating islands of green where people laughed and danced.

    For the first time, James was amazed to see children running and laughing together, some brandishing sticks as swords, others huddled together in mischievous council. Like the adults, their hair was long and as black as ebony; the boys¡¯ flowing freely behind them as they tumbled and ran; the girls¡¯ wearing simple braids in imitation of the more complex patterns adorning their mothers.

    Elsewhere, men and women filled the evening air with the sounds of laughter and song, and for once, nowhere was there sign of a weapon. The men wore simple tunics and leggings of modest greens and browns, but the women were incandescent with colour; their skirts and flowing dresses somehow woven from leaves that mirrored the autumnal colours all around them.

    Close by, small fires with cachoon and other strange root vegetables roasted upon slender sticks. There were tables laden with curious foods and great barrels of wine and ale piled up beside them. The air was thick with the sweet smells of cooking and the aromatic smoke of the fires, a heady fragrance which swirled amidst the music and laughter like a magic spell.

    James turned to Tavin and saw his joy reflected in the other man¡¯s laughter.

    ¡®Tavin¡­¡¯ James said, his voice catching in his throat, ¡®it¡¯s beautiful.¡¯

    ¡®It is what you sorely needed my friend,¡¯ Tavin replied, patting his shoulder. ¡®Here you will find yourself once more. Here you will rediscover the happiness you have lost.¡¯

    As they walked together into the milling crowd, James pointed to a solitary tree standing proud in the middle of the meadow. The tree was oddly shaped; a cross between a palm tree and a pine. Its trunk was tall and denuded of branches but for its top, where hundreds of slender branches curled down like a great umbrella. But, more curious still, were the dozens of colourful ribbons that trailed from the top of the trunk to a group of dancers, who twirled and skipped around the tree as though it were a pagan maypole.

    ¡®That, my friend, is the Choosing Tree,¡¯ Tavin replied with a knowing grin. ¡®The Carousel is a dance that culminates in the choosing of a mate. In due course, the ribbons wind around the tree until the dancers are pulled to its trunk. It is said that the person you become entangled with has been chosen for you by the tree!¡¯

    Tavin laughed, as the dancers drew ever closer together.

    ¡®But of course, it does not always get it right!¡¯

    As they watched, the dancers swirled faster and faster, until they were abruptly drawn together in a tangle of colourful ribbons. Despite what Tavin had said, James was unprepared for the consequences of the dance¡¯s completion. Whilst some tentatively embraced and yet others awkwardly disentangled from unwanted partners, many more were passionately confirming their choosing, writhing within the tangled colours of their pairing.

    James felt an elbow in his side and turned to his friend, wincing from the pain.

    ¡®What the hell did you do that for?¡¯

    Tavin grinned, and motioned towards two young women who were walking towards them. The first grinned as she placed a string of white flowers around Tavin¡¯s neck before kissing him lightly upon the forehead. The other girl faltered when she discovered James standing behind him but still she approached, smiling shyly, the dark almond eyes at the same time curious and warm with affection. Taking a ring of white flowers, she draped them upon his brow, circling the top of his head like a crown. The young woman seemed to hesitate, but then her delicate hand reached forward and gently stroked his beard. He felt her tremble at the touch, but with a bewildered smile she leaned closer and kissed him on each of his eyelids. Giggling, she clasped hands with her friend and together they scampered off into the crowd.

    ¡®What did I tell you, Jame!¡¯ Tavin laughed, elbowing him again in the side. ¡®We must cut a dashing pair the two of us! The fun we shall have this night!¡¯

    James smiled dumbly at his friend, unable to believe what had just happened. What he had said of his inability with women was something of an understatement. His ex-girlfriend had been something of an aberration; a beautiful young woman who had, for reasons beyond his comprehension, fallen in love with him. Yet it was his usual experience of women that they seldom even looked at him, let alone spoke to him. His skin flushed from the touch of the girl¡¯s lips, the pungence of her obscure fragrance still lingering on his skin.

    ¡®But¡­ I¡¯m ugly,¡¯ James muttered to himself.

    Tavin¡¯s grin widened, his expression one of bewildered incomprehension.

    ¡®Jame, the only ugliness I see within you is that which you impart upon yourself. Although, for the life of me, I cannot determine why you would torment yourself thus!¡¯

    ¡®Things are different where I come from,¡¯ was all James could manage by way of a reply.

    ¡®You paint a bleak picture of your land Jame. But no matter, you are with us now.¡¯

    Tavin smiled and carefully lifted the necklace of flowers from his chest into his hands.

    ¡®Now tell me, what do you think of the flowers? They smell interesting, do they not?¡¯

    The flowers were indeed lovely and smelled faintly of vanilla. The potent scent descended from his brow and seemed to bring with it a sense of deep calm, softening the vestiges of his lingering worries.

    ¡®They are celebration garlands,¡¯ Tavin said, lifting the flowers to his nose and inhaling deeply. ¡®They are given to those of age during such celebrations and possess attributes akin to partaking of metheglin.¡¯

    Taking James¡¯ arm, Tavin walked him into the milling crowd of celebrants.

    ¡®And speaking of metheglin, I think it is high time we partook of a flask or two!¡¯

    Soon, the two men stood side by side with slender wooden vessels of wine clasped in their hands. The wine was delicious and pungent with the sweetness of honey and soon the potent liquor softened what remained of James¡¯ doubt.

    Tavin performed the role of guide with enthusiasm, revelling in each new wonder James was introduced to. They ate foods more delicious than anything he had yet encountered, and many more that almost defied description. Perhaps the strangest was a large purple mushroom that once bitten, released thousands of tiny spores that could be inhaled like smoke from a pipe, causing a pleasant numbness to travel down the throat and into the lungs. There were brittle sticks, like charred, y-shaped twigs, which melted in the mouth like salted caramel. And, with the greatest pleasure of all, Tavin introduced a cooked cachoon, complete with a sprig of Lemspur; a type of grass, woven into a lattice around the baked tuber. With a guilty grin, James had to concede that it was indeed far better than the raw vegetable he had so angrily consumed during their flight from Galendar.

    James was just coughing on his second mushroom spore, when a group of curious children suddenly scampered over and surrounded them. He smiled at their innocent scrutiny, gladdened at last to have eyes turned upon him that were not afraid or filled with contempt.

    ¡®His hair grows upon his face!¡¯ A young boy laughed.

    ¡®Look at his eyes!¡¯ a girl remarked with wonder. ¡®They are the colour of the sky!¡¯

    ¡®My father told me that he came from a falling star!¡¯ Another intoned sagely.

    ¡®Now children, give the man his peace.¡¯

    The children were suddenly parted by a tall woman in plain robes of white, her greying hair woven into a silver tapestry of braids that trailed across both shoulders.

    ¡®The curiosity of children,¡¯ the woman said, her gaze following them as they fled, laughing and screaming back into the crowd, ¡®a blessing and a curse!¡¯

    James recognised the woman from his trial, one of the few Lords who had abstained from passing judgement upon him. He saw Tavin bow beside him and awkwardly imitated the gesture.

    ¡®Jame, this is Lord Kemira of the Tower of Remembering, cousin to the late Lord Galen,¡¯ Tavin said, somewhat nervously supplying her introduction.

    ¡®You are welcome here Tavin of Galendar,¡¯ Lord Kemira smiled, nodding gracefully. ¡®My condolences for the loss of your brother. We celebrate his passing this night, as do we celebrate all of those who have passed from your house.¡¯

    Tavin bowed once more, his face solemn, yet grateful for her words.

    The woman turned and regarded James fully, her eyes sparkling in the light of a nearby fire.

    ¡®You also are welcome here, Jame of¡­¡¯

    ¡®Jame of Galendar,¡¯ Tavin interjected proudly. ¡®He is of our House now.¡¯

    James flinched, and looked askance at his friend as Tavin¡¯s grin broadened.

    ¡®Is that so?¡¯ The Lord smiled, her elegant face belying a strength that was both imposing and reassuring. ¡®A fine House to be fostered within,¡¯ she said, eyeing the dark green robes with appreciation. ¡®Never before has such a privilege been bestowed upon a man of the plains. There is indeed more to you than first meets the eye, Jame of Galendar.¡¯

    Unlike the other Gelders he had met so far, the woman¡¯s eyes were pale, like the white-grey of burnt embers. Behind their calculating stare, he sensed an unnerving intelligence that completely dwarfed his own. When those same eyes narrowed, he felt himself stiffen in apprehension.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡®But tell me, from which of the barbarian kingdoms do you hail?¡¯

    James¡¯ grip tightened upon his flask, feeling as though another interrogation were about to ensue.

    ¡®I¡¯m not from any kingdom you will have ever heard of,¡¯ James replied awkwardly. ¡®It has a name, but it would be meaningless to tell you.¡¯

    The woman nodded her head as though in understanding, but her pale eyes remained fixed upon him.

    ¡®Were it possible that our two races could be on better terms, I believe there would be much to benefit us both.¡¯

    The woman glanced to one side, peering into the milling crowd of celebrants.

    ¡®You have the council confused beyond measure, Jame, and I for one am very greatly pleased that that is so. Lord Balen is a great warrior and leader, and the approaching war fits his attributes like a glove,¡¯ the woman¡¯s formidable glare swept back to him, ¡®but he lacks the sensitivity and foresight that was so generously bestowed upon his brother. We risk much by lowering ourselves to the brutalities of our enemy, and it is better that he be reminded of that fact.¡¯

    The intensity of her stare slipped from her eyes and she smiled, addressing them together.

    ¡®But this is talk for another time. For now, I wish only to extend the warmest of welcomes to you both. Others of your house attend the festivities this night. I hope that you will all find our hospitality of a standard more deserving of your past treatment. We will meet again, soon, I hope.¡¯

    James nodded mutely as the elegant woman swept on, her slender form carried by the now familiar poise and elegance of her people.

    ¡®Jame, I believe that you have made another friend,¡¯ Tavin said, as they watched her disappear into the crowd.

    ¡®What did she mean by, ¡°fostered¡±?¡¯ James asked, oblivious to what Tavin had just said.

    Tavin smiled and placed his hand upon his shoulder.

    ¡®The Northern prefectures of the Gelding are comprised of seventeen Great Houses. It is to your House that you strive to serve and do honour for. Whilst you dwell within the lands of the Gelding, it would be fitting that you affiliate yourself with a House. Fen and I proposed that you be of Galendar, and Leander accepted.¡¯

    ¡®Leander accepted me into her house?¡¯ James said, spluttering on a mouthful of wine.

    Tavin¡¯s smile lessened.

    ¡®Unless, of course, you wish to petition for another?¡¯

    James merely shook his head and sighed into his wine flask, his mind trying to make sense of yet another peculiarity of these strange people.

    ¡®You do us honour!¡¯ Tavin exclaimed, clapping James on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

    Taking another hurried draught from his flask, James turned to watch the ongoing festivities around him. His former gaiety had quickly subsided following the conversation with Lord Kemira. It wasn¡¯t anything specifically she had said, but what she had implied; that she, like Lord Galen and the enigmatic old man still pacing the lofty perch of the Clyst, believed he was important to them in some unfathomable way. With joyless realisation, James conceded that he shared at least one thing in common with Lord Balen; neither of them believed he was of any use to anybody.

    James¡¯ attention was pulled from these dark thoughts by the sight of a woman pacing beyond the great umbrella of the Choosing Tree. His eye had been drawn by her beauty, but it was a curious familiarity that held his gaze. She wore a shimmering dress woven from red-golden leaves, her arm delicately concealed within a sling held across her chest. Realisation dawned and he shook his head in disbelief¡­ it was Fen! Extricated from the concealment of her armour, her true beauty shone forth like a butterfly emerging from the crudity of its shell. Despite the distance between them, he felt himself blush in acknowledgement of her splendour.

    But, it wasn¡¯t until he saw her companion that his breath caught in his throat. The woman walking beside Fen had foregone the colourful garments worn by the other women, dressed instead in simple tunic and leggings. Even so, her understated beauty overshadowed any of those around her. He hadn¡¯t seen Leander in over a week, but seeing her now was like seeing her anew. The subtle change in her bearing was demonstrated by the lack of weapons that usually adorned her body. Gone was the sword at her hip, the slender daggers at her waist, the bow that had been permanently attached to her hand. Without her weapons, she appeared strangely vulnerable, her hands restless at her sides as though uncertain how to be at ease. With a twinge of guilt, James was reminded of the time he had inadvertently spied upon her bathing, for her awkwardness was something akin to nakedness; her absent weapons exposing a fragility that had been hiding beneath her tough exterior all along.

    James grinned as he took another sip of his wine. For once, he was relieved not to be the one on the receiving end of Leander¡¯s anger, for whatever conversation they had been sharing had since descended into argument. But as disgruntled as Leander was, her companion¡¯s smile remained intact; her finger raised to her companion as though in admonishment. James half expected the young woman to storm away in childish affront, but instead she did something that defied belief. With her shoulders sagging in defeat, she grudgingly raised her arms, allowing Fen to fasten a golden ribbon around her waist.

    ¡®Tavin!¡¯ James exclaimed excitedly. ¡®I don¡¯t believe it! Leander¡¯s going to dance!¡¯

    ¡®So it would seem!¡¯ Tavin grinned, following his gaze to the two women. ¡®It has been a long time in coming, but I am grateful to Fen for finally persuading her. She, like you my friend, finds it difficult to let certain things remain in her past.¡¯

    Frowning at Tavin¡¯s cryptic words, he turned back to watch the men and women await the dance. A number of musicians had come forward, taking up positions around the edge of the milling dancers. In their hands they carried what appeared to be a diverse collection of flutes and reed pipes melded from willowing. At an unseen signal, the various players took up their instruments and brought them to their lips. There was an expectant pause from the assembled dancers, and then the music began to play.

    At first, the melody that drifted into the evening air was contemplative, almost melancholy, but the dancers responded by slowly walking around the tree, trailing their many-coloured ribbons in the air above them. Men and women exchanged smiling glances as they passed and soon their laughter and excited conversation mingled with the play of music. As though feeding upon the growing excitement, the music changed, building in pace and form. An excited cheer was raised from the crowd and suddenly the dancers sprang into movement. Forming two concentric circles, they swirled in and out of one another as the ribbons above them rippled like colourful threads on a loom. Here and there, latecomers to the dance were frantically waiting for their friends to tie their ribbons, before springing into the melee.

    The melody the players wove between them was both complex and primitive, a seductive rhythm that played upon the air like the scatterings of moths dancing between the lanterns above. In imitation of those around him, James gladly clapped along to the music as he watched Leander awkwardly weave between the other dancers. Again, he felt guilty at the pleasure he took from her discomfort, but as the young woman¡¯s smile grew upon her face, he gawped at the transformation imparted to her lithe figure.

    James felt a curious tightening and looked down to discover a bright blue ribbon being tied around his waist. Glancing quickly past Tavin¡¯s mischievous eyes, he noticed the same ribbon trailing above his head and up into the heights of the Choosing Tree.

    ¡®It appears that you are about to dance also my friend!¡¯ Tavin laughed, clapping along to the music.

    ¡®Tavin, untie me at once!¡¯ James shouted, fumbling at the ribbon.

    ¡®Nonsense, the Carousel awaits!¡¯ Tavin replied, taking the flask of wine from his hand and bringing it to his own lips.

    ¡®I can¡¯t bloody dance! You¡¯re trying to make a fool of me!¡¯

    ¡®I would never do such a thing. Besides, anyone can dance. It is in the blood and soul of every man and woman alive!¡¯

    Tavin pushed him gently towards the tree as a young woman playfully pulled him into the midst of the dance.

    ¡®The ladies of Kellandria will not see you wrong-footed!¡¯ Tavin shouted, raising his flask in salute.

    Before he could protest any further, James was swept into the colourful dance. His movements were hesitant and uncertain as he blundered between the other dancers, but unseen hands guided his passage, pulling his body into swirls and spirals as he was swept around the tree. Soon, James¡¯ grimace had transformed into a shy smile, and then to open laughter as he greeted the smiles of men and women skipping past. The pace of the music increased and breathlessly he passed around and around the tree, swept upon a tide of shifting colour. The music and laughter seemed to swirl and eddy around him, carrying his clumsy feet as though buoyed upon a fast-flowing river. Glancing above, he noticed the beautiful tapestry being woven above their heads; amidst the reds, golds and greens, his ribbon was like a spiral of blue flame.

    Just as the pace of the dance was becoming too fast to keep up, the tangle of ribbons drew the dancers together, tangling them up like so many flies caught in a multicoloured web. James felt other bodies press against his own and turned to his side, giddy and chuckling. Beside him, a young couple had already embraced, their smiles joined together in a passionate kiss. Blushing, he turned away as another pair of dark eyes settled upon him. But the smile upon the woman¡¯s scarred face died as quickly as his own.

    Leander stared back at him, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. The intricate tangle of braids framed her flushed face and the sudden intensity of her large dark eyes. In that instant, something tenuous and fragile seemed to pass between them, and before it fled, as quickly and surely as had her smile, James read the obscure longing that had so briefly consumed her.

    Perhaps it was the effects of the wine he had drunk with Tavin, or perhaps the celebration garland that still traced his brow like a flowery crown, but on impulse he did the one thing he never dreamed he would do¡­

    Leaning forward, he kissed her.

    The contact sent a wave of heat coursing through his limbs. He felt her body tense, felt the delicate ridge of the scar trailing across her lips. Though the kiss lasted only a moment, its fire seemed to blaze through him, finding and filling the many empty voids residing within.

    A stinging pain blazed across his face, jerking his head back against the trunk of the tree. Opening his eyes in shock, he found Leander glaring back at him, her teeth bared in a feral grimace. Frantically, she began to struggle against the golden ribbon that still bound her, but in her haste her fingers fumbled clumsily upon the knot Fen had so recently tied. In desperation, her hand flew to her head and from the woven braids of hair she drew out a slender wooden knife which she savagely swept through the ribbon. Springing to her feet, she stormed away from the tangle of dancers and fled into the crowd.

    Still reeling from the violence of their parting, James saw Fen fleeing in pursuit of her friend. Dismayed at the outcome of his impetuous act, he pulled against his own ribbon as the music around him became wistful. The knot was unfamiliar and he clumsily squirmed out of its embrace, desperate to be away from those who had watched the altercation. All of the joy and exhilaration that had been gifted to him by the dance now lay in tatters around him. With the side of his face still burning, he got unsteadily to his feet and weaved an uncertain path through the crowd, searching for Tavin.

    How wrong Tavin had been! Leander obviously despised him as much as ever. What a fool he had been to believe anything different!

    Without his friend by his side he felt the eyes of the crowd rake across him. He wanted to scream at them, wanted to disappear from their endless scrutiny. A table laden with food and drink barred his way, and roughly he grabbed a flask of wine, ignoring the smile of the young man who had offered it. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, he upended the bottle and drank deeply, spluttering as the potent liquor burned its way down his throat.

    With a ruthless sneer, he acknowledged the perversity of his situation. When a glimmer of happiness had threatened to intrude upon his delusion, that damaged part of his mind had remorselessly swept in to end it. Suddenly the colour and laughter that surrounded him was too painful to his senses, and on his unsteady feet he pushed himself back through the crowd.

    At that moment, a hand roughly grasped his shoulder, and he turned to find a tall, dark figure standing before him. In the scant light of a nearby fire, he thought that it was his friend, Tavin, and was about to admonish him for his absence when he was savagely shoved to the ground.

    The man¡¯s face was ruddy, his teeth bared in a snarl. He held a large flagon of ale in one hand, the other bunched into a fist.

    ¡®Stay away from her!¡¯ Kirrin growled above him.

    For the first time, the older brother¡¯s hatred was fully exposed upon his face, distorting his proud countenance into something obscene and frightening. He took a step forward, his knuckles white upon the wooden flagon as though it were the handle of a weapon. From out of the crowd, Fen suddenly reappeared, her flowing red dress like a gust of windblown leaves between them. Her arm pushed against the towering man¡¯s chest, her eyes wide with fear and incomprehension.

    ¡®Kirrin, what has become of you?¡¯ she demanded.

    James crawled backwards across the grass, a pocket of silence surrounding him as people gathered to watch. Emboldened by Fen¡¯s defence, James flamed with sudden anger. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he faced the towering man barely held in check by Fen¡¯s barrier of red-golden leaves.

    ¡®You can bloody well have her!¡¯ James yelled, his fingers tightening upon the wooden flask still held in his hand. ¡®You¡¯ve got nothing to fear. She hates me as much as you do!¡¯

    And with that, James pushed his way through the circle of onlookers, and out across the dark meadow beyond. He didn¡¯t care where his feet took him, as long as it was away from them. Following a sweeping bank of grass made silver by the moonlight, he halted before the edge of a dark wood.

    Upon the threshold of the waiting trees, he turned to the distant play of lights and shouted with all his might.

    ¡®Just leave me the hell alone!¡¯

 26 - The Tree of Blood

    James stalked through the woods as darkness closed around him. The sounds of music and laughter had faded from his senses, replaced now by the uncertain melody of wind-chimes playing in the trees. A cool breeze rattled the leaves around him, cooling the sweat upon his brow.

    Coming to a halt between the swaying trees, he looked down at the wooden flask still clasped in his hand.

    ¡®To hell with it!¡¯ he growled, draining the last of the wine before angrily tossing the empty vessel into the trees.

    His head spun as he gazed up through branches that seemed to pitch and swirl around him. High above, the ghostly tower of the Clyst rose into the night sky, its many bridges like the spokes of some vast wheel in the sky. A hot and spiteful anger once more rose within his gut and he pushed on into the woods. Lord Balen was right, he thought to himself as he staggered on, he didn¡¯t belong here¡­ he didn¡¯t belong anywhere in this damned world!

    As the trees grew dense around him, the first motes of fear began to prickle through the shroud of his fury. At first it was merely an inconvenience, seeking to slow his progress, but soon it had become something much more. Twigs snapped beneath his feet like subtle warnings, sharp branches tugged at his robes as though to hold him back; from out of his drunken daze, he could sense something momentous building in the air.

    When the phantom screams returned to his numbed senses, it was like blundering into a trap. Holding his head between his hands, he bent to the ground; waves of pain and suffering that were not his own, washing across his mind like a poisoned tide. Frantically, he cast about to seek its source, but only the playful melody of wind-chimes reached his ears.

    Gritting his teeth, he pushed away from the tree and plunged on through the woods. Using his battered senses as a compass, he stalked through the trees, determined at last to seek an explanation for this blight upon the paradise that surrounded him. Never before had he felt the sickness so keenly, nor so intimately. A part of him recoiled from these heightened sensations, fearful of what he might discover at the end of his search, but grimly he forged ahead, spurred on by the anger and resentment that had been his parting gift at the festival.

    When at last he staggered out of the dark woods, it was into a wide clearing, illuminated by the eldritch glow of the two full moons. As though in welcome, the screaming lament rose suddenly in pitch, causing him to double over in agony. He expected to find scenes of horror to match the screams he heard inside his head, but when at last he was able to look up, there was nothing but a solitary tree growing from the centre of the clearing. The tree resembled one of the coppiced willows the Gelders used to fashion their blades, but one that had grown to monstrous proportions, its many crooked limbs bent towards the sky like a huge spider sprawled upon its back.

    James was about to turn his gaze from its monstrous deformity when another shrill scream shattered into his skull. Bracing his head once more between his hands, he lumbered forward, certain at last that he was close to the one he sought. The clearing had once been paved with concentric rings of granite flagstones, but these had long-since been cast into disarray by its prodigious roots. As his uncertain feet took him across the jutting stones, he stared in growing wonderment at the sprawl of tormented limbs curling up into the sky. In the moonlight, its bark was revealed to be a livid red like the exposed muscle and sinew of a skinned animal. Here and there, strips of bark hung in dry tatters, fluttering pitifully in the breeze like leprous folds of skin.

    By the time he had scaled the tumbled stones beneath the creaking tree, an eerie quiet had settled upon the surrounding woods. With nervous, almost timid movements, he crept around its convoluted trunk. However, it didn¡¯t take long to discover that there was no one there.

    A growing unease finally cut through his lingering anger as he looked down at the glistening roots plunged into the earth like bloodied fingers. As unsettling and disturbing as it seemed, the source of the pain emerged from the very ground beneath his feet¡­

    James froze.

    Something had tapped him on the shoulder.

    It felt like a heavy drop of rain, but the sky above was perfectly clear. He touched his shoulder and tentatively brought his hand to his face. In the pale light of the moons, he saw that his fingers were smeared with blood. Slowly, he turned his head to the creaking branches, certain this time he would find the one he was looking for, mutilated and strung up like one of the dead villagers of Venn.

    But, the crazy network of branches was completely empty.

    Narrowing his eyes, he studied the curious tree more closely. The weather had been fine for days, yet its many branches appeared to glisten as though with newly-fallen rain. It was only as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom that he saw the many wounds covering its diseased bark; the fissures and cracks weeping sap as red as blood.

    It was absurd¡­ it was impossible¡­ but at last he understood. All of the pain, all of the suffering, was coming from the tree itself!

    ¡®It is the Custodian¡¯s Tree, the tree of blood.¡¯

    James¡¯ heart lurched as the unfamiliar voice intruded upon the quiet.

    ¡®It was seeded from the First Custodian¡¯s blade, he whom we named Loreth, saviour of the Gelding. The sacred blade that had claimed so many thousands of lives during the Bitter War was finally laid to rest here, seeding the tree that stands before you. It is a red willow, the only tree of its kind in existence.¡¯

    The voice was unfamiliar and sounded oddly strained, as though the speaker himself were also in great pain.

    ¡®Who¡¯s there?¡¯ James muttered nervously.

    At his bidding, a slender figure emerged from the trees, his movements hampered by a cane. With disbelief, James regarded the man who now faced him from across the clearing, for it was his former guardian, Torrinth.

    ¡®You can speak?¡¯ James said, his voice incredulous despite what he had just been told.

    The old warrior did not reply with words, but instead resumed the maddening brevity of their former communication with a curt nod of his head.

    ¡®Why the hell did you do that?¡¯ James shouted angrily.

    ¡®The words spoken to a mute are always those most honestly chosen,¡¯ Torrinth replied, limping nearer. ¡®I took my measure of you in my silence, as was Lord Galen¡¯s wish.¡¯

    James shook his head. But as aggrieved as he felt by this small treachery, his gaze quickly returned to the tree as though beckoned by its silent demand.

    ¡®And how did I measure up?¡¯ he asked bitterly.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Ignoring his question, the old man limped to the edge of the flagstone floor before coming to a halt.

    ¡®It would be better for you to get down from there. It is not a place for idle feet,¡¯ Torrinth said, suspiciously eyeing the trees that lined the clearing.

    ¡®It¡¯s dying,¡¯ James replied absently, gazing up at the rotting branches swaying above his head.

    ¡®The tree is almost one thousand turns old,¡¯ Torrinth replied with a shrug. ¡®All that lives must eventually die.¡¯

    ¡®You don¡¯t understand,¡¯ James said desperately. ¡®It¡¯s suffering.¡¯

    ¡®Lord Balen looks for excuses to end your life,¡¯ Torrinth said, his eyes still trained upon the trees around him, ¡®and trespassing upon the Custodian¡¯s Tree will give him reason beyond even the powers of the monk to spare you from.¡¯

    ¡®For looking at a tree?¡¯ James snapped.

    ¡®It is sacred,¡¯ Torrinth replied simply.

    With difficulty, James detached his gaze from the tree.

    ¡®Tavin¡¯s dagger,¡¯ he said distractedly, ¡®it was you who gave it to me.¡¯

    Something akin to amusement creased the wrinkles around the old man¡¯s eyes and slowly he nodded.

    ¡®I had my measure of you after we worked to free the Vennians from their trees. You had gained my respect by then. You had gained my trust.¡¯

    James managed a tight smile and slowly shook his head in exasperation. He was about to offer his thanks for the gesture that had saved his life in Venn, when he clasped his ears in sudden pain. The screaming of the tree redoubled inside his head and he lurched backwards, his flailing hand grasping a jutting branch to break his fall. The limb was wet and unpleasantly pliant beneath his fingers, but somehow he managed to hold on. Almost at once, the pain radiating from the tree diminished.

    Did I do that? James asked himself, gazing in bewilderment at the slimy branch still clasped between his fingers.

    ¡®Do not touch it!¡¯ Torrinth seethed in alarm. ¡®Setting hand upon the Custodian¡¯s Tree is a crime punishable by death!¡¯

    Ignoring the old man, James steadied himself before tracing a determined path around the dying tree, his fingers trailing a bloody path across its tortured bark. Soon his hands were slick with red sap, but he was unmindful, his attention focused only upon the pain that with each passing moment fled from the bark beneath his fingers.

    The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as the eerie silence intensified around him. He glanced to his side and saw Torrinth gingerly crossing the flagstones towards him, his movements strangely slowed as though time itself were impeded by the quiet.

    James had just stooped beneath a low hanging branch when he came to an abrupt halt. Before him was a single, slender branch that appeared unaffected by the blight that was slowly rotting the rest of the tree. With a trembling hand, he reached forward and grasped the branch as though it were an extended hand in greeting. Its surface was remarkably smooth, but strangely the contact made him feel uneasy.

    Through the twisted network of red branches, he caught sight of the two moons staring down at him like baleful eyes. In the time that had passed since leaving the house with Tavin, those gleaming spheres in the sky had shifted into a new alignment; the bright smudge of green now suspended beneath the other; their shimmering edges close enough to touch. Something about this new shape in the sky filled James with an inexplicable dread that mirrored the unpleasant feeling now tingling through his fingers. A chill wind rattled through the branches, casting pieces of dead bark to the flagstone floor like chunks of bloodied flesh.

    Torrinth was nearer now, but his voice conversely distant.

    ¡®We must leave, now!¡¯

    The hand still clasped to the slender branch became suddenly numb and instinctively James recoiled, jerking it backwards. But his hand was stuck fast. He thought absently of the cloying sap he had trailed his hand through before and reasoned that it must have become congealed. He braced his foot against the tree and pulled as hard as he could.

    A cold fear settled in the pit of his stomach when he realised his misunderstanding. His hand was not merely stuck, it was welded to the branch; the tips of his fingers embedded within its very grain. He turned his terrified eyes upon Torrinth who had gained his side. The old warrior was panting heavily, a sheen of sweat covering his leathered face. His lips were moving through a series of words, but despite his proximity only the faintest of whispers met his ears. Though he could not understand his words, the flickering light in his widening eyes communicated enough. He jerked his eyes back to the branch as a terrible pain blossomed from his fingers. Blue flames flickered from his submerged finger-tips, tracing lines of fire into the network of branches above. The flames spread quickly, hungrily feeding upon the blood-red sap bleeding from its many wounds. It was but a matter of seconds before the entire tree was ablaze.

    James screamed, joined in discordant harmony by the screams of the dying tree. The flames that had issued from his own fingers now crept upon his robes setting them alight. His skin blistered and peeled as he savagely tore against his hand, but still it held fast.

    Above him, the tree burned like a great pyre, sending blue flames and sparks spiralling into the night sky. The fire roared like thunder, branches snapping and popping within the seething inferno.

    James slumped to the ground, struggling to draw air into his burning lungs. He shielded his eyes from the incredible heat and caught a fleeting glimpse of Torrinth hunkering close to the ground, swirls of steam curling from his back.

    Another scream was tearing through his vocal chords when the terrible pain was suddenly lifted. Blinking smoke and tears from his eyes, he gasped as the last of the blue flames sputtered and died; the red tree now reduced to a charred skeleton above him. Fearful of the devastation wrought to his own body, he frantically surveyed the charred wreckage of his robes. But as he peeled back their blackened cinders, he discovered the flesh beneath miraculously untouched.

    James attempted to stand, but his trembling legs folded, pitching him backwards. There was a rending snap from the tree and then he was sprawling upon the hard stone floor. Sitting up, he saw that the branch was no longer attached to his hand, but lay across his lap like a glistening rod of red glass.

    With relief, he looked up to find Torrinth slowly picking himself up from the ground. The old man was in obvious pain, but his sharp eyes were focused only upon the branch, now clasped between James¡¯ hands. An expression of uncertainty crept across his wrinkled face as he staggered forward, his cane forgotten upon the ground.

    James¡¯ smile slipped from his face as the old man removed the blunt blade from around his neck. The moonlight glinted upon its dull steel, but despite its blunt edges, it looked like a weapon all the same. In that moment, he realised Torrinth meant to fulfil the death penalty that destroying the sacred tree was likely to engender. Hurriedly raising the severed branch before him like a crude shield, James braced himself for attack.

    But the attack never came.

    Instead, the old man knelt by his side and reverently took the branch out of his hands. As he had once watched Tavin sculpt a dagger from a branch of willowing, so now he watched the old man work his own blade through the blood-red bark of the Custodian¡¯s Tree. His fingers moved with practiced ease, the blunt blade gracefully sweeping through its substance like a knife through wet clay. Shavings coiled from the branch, sizzling and blackening as they fell, and before his eyes, an object slowly took shape between his slender fingers¡­ the narrow handle, the raised edge of a guard, the elegant sweep of a curving blade¡­

    When Torrinth¡¯s hands came to rest, he regarded the sword he had created as though uncertain how it had come to be there. His eyes were brimming with tears as he lifted his head from his work, his hands raising the fruit of his work as though in offering.

    ¡®Lord Jame¡­¡¯ his voice croaked, ¡®I have your blade.¡¯

    James flinched, recoiling from the sword, which even now sizzled and sparked as its red became annealed in black.

    ¡®Torrinth, what have you done? I don¡¯t want it! I don¡¯t want it!¡¯

    Tears now rolled freely down the old man¡¯s cheeks, and for the first time James saw the other man smile. It was the knowing smile of a grandfather, tender and sincere, and when he raised the sword once more between his bony fingers, it was hard not to perceive the pride that accompanied the gesture.

    James was aware of movement around them, and looked past the hunched shape of Torrinth to where figures were slowly emerging from the woods. The celebrants had no doubt been guided by the light of the blazing tree and as they approached they did so tentatively, fearful of what they might discover at its source. Soon, dozens of people lined the flagstone floor, silently watching them beneath the destroyed tree. Couples held hands as though for comfort, their celebration garlands smouldering in the pale light of the two moons. The dream-like quiet lingered in the air, until it was violently shattered by raised voices and the trampling of feet.

    Beyond the ring of on-lookers, a score of warriors rushed from between the trees, their swords flashing in the light of the moons. The voice that rose above their clamour was familiar and filled with a savage rage that shook James to the core.

    ¡®Traitors!¡¯ Lord Balen screamed into the night. ¡®Destroy them! Destroy them both!¡¯

 27 - Choosing

    The only smile James had ever seen upon the old man¡¯s face quickly vanished into the weathered lines from which it had emerged. With careful, unhurried movements, Torrinth reverently laid the newly-carved sword upon the ground and braced a hand against his bended knee. It pained him to stand but when at last he had gained his feet, he drew his own sword with an ease that belied his injury.

    From where James lay, he watched helplessly as the blademaster of Galendar prepared to defend his life for what would be the last time. A painful twist of remorse brought tears to his eyes, but if he was going to die, at least it would be at the side of a man he not only admired, but could at last call friend.

    The warriors in white had reached the edge of the flagstone floor when the air was rent by the shrill tearing of fabric. Between the two men and the approaching warriors, a lone figure dropped out of the sky. A cloud of dust exploded into the air as the ancient stone was pulverised beneath a pair of bare feet. Before the dust had settled, James knew who had at last come to their rescue.

    The warriors stumbled, unnerved by what they had just witnessed, but Lord Balen furiously bellowed his rage behind them, goading them on to confront the frail old man who had materialised before them.

    James looked on in horror as Kloven-Perrin stood as though to welcome his own death. For not only did the monk look every bit as frail as he had first appeared upon the Watch, but his face was turned away, his blind eyes seeking attack where none was due.

    Raising their gleaming blades, the warriors moved in formation, lunging towards the monk with all the cunning elegance of their craft. But when the first blade had come to within an inch of his neck, the old man¡¯s rigid form dissolved into a blur of movement. His motion was so fast that his arms appeared to vanish, yet the consequences of his actions sent the four men crashing to the ground, their wooden blades clattering across the flagstones like discarded toys. The men following in their wake hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then they too were taken to the ground amidst their fallen companions.

    But Lord Balen was no normal man, and as he ran into the space beneath the destroyed tree, he swung his white staff in a blur of movement that matched the monk¡¯s beneath him. The old man had no time to ward the blow and instead braced his shoulder against it, the contact shattering the staff in an explosion of white shards. The startled Lord of the Citadel tumbled to the ground, but the monk remained where he stood like a statue hewn from granite. Before any of the remaining warriors could advance any further, the monk¡¯s voice detonated like thunder from between his thin lips.

    ¡®The next hand raised in violence against these men will result in the destruction of you all!¡¯

    Lord Balen slowly regained his feet as the remaining warriors stood obediently beside him. Their faces betrayed no hint of fear, yet they looked puzzled as though uncertain how such an attack could have been committed against them.

    ¡®You have no right to issue such commandments here, old man!¡¯ Lord Balen spat. ¡®You meddle in matters beyond your ken. I will not stand idly by whilst this barbarian destroys the very symbol of our salvation. A demon has been let loose within our fortress and I intend to send it back to the oblivion from whence it came!¡¯

    ¡®Demon,¡¯ the monk muttered derisively. ¡®It would appear that the folly of man extends beyond the borders of those you would call barbarians. You speak of salvation, yet you cannot see it when it is plainly writ before your eyes.¡¯

    The monk pointed a bony finger to the ground where the newly carved sword lay upon the granite stone like a shard of midnight.

    ¡®The tree was not destroyed, it was reborn.¡¯

    Lord Balen visibly flinched when he caught sight of the red-black blade glistening in the moonlight.

    ¡®The Custodian¡¯s Blade,¡¯ he whispered hoarsely.

    Ire quickly swept the man¡¯s astonishment from his face, his hands clenching for the staff now lying in pieces upon the ground.

    ¡®Sacrilege!¡¯

    The monk raised his hand in supplication as a wry smile twisted itself upon his lips.

    ¡®You are Custodian here, are you not?¡¯

    Lord Balen deemed not to reply, but his eyes burned with a cold hatred that made James¡¯ skin crawl.

    ¡®Perhaps I know more of your custom than you do yourself,¡¯ the monk continued. ¡®Though the felling of Loreth¡¯s tree is a crime justly served by death, is it not also true that its execution be committed by a blade melded from the offended?¡¯If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He gestured to the ground where the sword lay framed within the centre of a flagstone.

    ¡®Loreth¡¯s blade lies at your feet. If you are its rightful owner, take it and mete out the justice you so demand!¡¯

    Lord Balen¡¯s scowl seemed to falter upon his face, replaced for the first time with the faintest hint of uncertainty.

    ¡®Do not toy with me, old man,¡¯ he said through gritted teeth.

    ¡®I would not dream of such effrontery,¡¯ the monk replied earnestly. ¡®I am merely confident that the laws you ascribe to the protection of the tree will not be sufficient to end the life of its rightful owner.

    ¡®Now, take up the blade and mete out your justice, if you are capable of doing so.¡¯

    Balen¡¯s face coloured and with movements no longer graceful he lunged for the sword. His fingers were like white claws upon the slender handle as he held it aloft, the blade trembling and quivering as though assaulted by a gale.

    ¡®You know nothing of our lore!¡¯ Balen seethed. ¡®I¡¯ll play your little game and spill the blood of the demon at your feet!¡¯

    James shuffled backwards across the cold stone like a frightened animal, shocked that the monk would offer up his life so readily after having only just spared it. Torrinth too appeared to hesitate and moved to stand over him, but the monk reached out a hand, gently clasping the other man¡¯s shoulder. With a slight shake of his head, the blind monk made him still.

    ¡®Fear not,¡¯ he told Torrinth, ¡®James has nothing to fear from this man.¡¯

    Provoked by these words, Lord Balen strode forward. His anger now such that he held the sword clumsily, as though in his rage he had forgotten his prowess with such weapons.

    ¡®Stand!¡¯ Balen shouted. ¡®Stand and meet the Lord¡¯s justice!¡¯

    James shook his head from where he cowered.

    ¡®Please, I meant no harm! I was trying to heal the tree, not destroy it!¡¯

    ¡®Lies!¡¯ Balen screamed. ¡®Stand and be judged, demon!¡¯

    James looked to his old friend, but Torrinth now returned his gaze as though nothing untoward were about to occur.

    ¡®Jame, stand and show these people who you are,¡¯ the monk said softly.

    ¡®Who I am?¡¯ James sobbed. ¡®Perrin, you¡¯ve made a mistake, a terrible mistake! I¡¯m not who you think I am!¡¯

    ¡®It is you who have made the mistake,¡¯ Balen cut across him.

    Two of the white-clad warriors strode forward and roughly raised James to his feet. Standing either side of him, they spread his arms, exposing his naked chest to the uncertain movements of the sword.

    ¡®In death, you shall be pardoned,¡¯ Balen said, repeating the perfunctory words he had last issued in the Hall of the Dead.

    With grim satisfaction, he raised the sword before him and drove the razor-sharp point towards James¡¯ chest. James tensed, and with wild eyes watched the blade as it plunged towards him. But at the last moment, as though guided by indecision he did not show, the lord jerked his hand to the side, sending the sword tumbling to the ground.

    Those warriors standing in attendance exchanged uncertain glances as the furious lord bent to the retrieve the fallen weapon. The sword now shook violently in his grasp and he was forced to bring both hands to bear upon it. Gritting his teeth, the sword tip finally steadied in the air, and with his whole body braced behind it, he drove the blade forward like a lance. This time, the sword bucked violently in his hands and reversed itself, scoring a cut across his arm. Lord Balen staggered backwards as the sword once more tumbled to the ground, his hand pressed to the dark stain now seeping through the white weave of his robes.

    ¡®Impossible!¡¯ Balen¡¯s voice trembled. ¡®What kind of sorcery is this?¡¯

    The monk was now directly behind the lord, and as he had done with Torrinth, he now placed a conciliatory hand upon his shoulder.

    ¡®The man is mortal, yet he cannot be harmed by his own blade,¡¯ the monk said, as though explaining the obvious to a child. ¡®It was thus with Loreth, so is it thus with James.¡¯

    ¡®His blade!¡¯ Balen cried, shrugging the old man¡¯s hand away in spite of his injury.

    ¡®Let the blade choose its keeper,¡¯ the monk said, his voice level and calm. ¡®Unhand the man and see if he is capable of holding the blade you cannot keep from the ground.¡¯

    Balen¡¯s face coloured at the audacity of the suggestion, but with a savage sweep of his arm, James was released from his bondage.

    ¡®You spoke earlier of folly, old man. Well, let us witness the greatest folly of them all!¡¯ the lord smirked. ¡®The Custodian¡¯s Blade will not tolerate its befoulment at the hands of a barbarian! The blade will end his life as surely as any of the arrows trained upon him from the trees.¡¯

    James stood awkwardly, his gaze nervously passing from the shadows lining the clearing to where the monk stood beside him. A cold breeze rattled through the trees, fluttering the burnt remnants of his clothing.

    ¡®Perrin, you made a mistake,¡¯ was all he could think to say as he cast his eyes to the sword lying upon the flagstones.

    He had never held a sword in his life, and even now as he approached it, a distant part of his mind baulked at the absurdity of the situation. He remembered how the sword had so recently betrayed the hand of Lord Balen, a man obviously skilled with such weapons.

    What might it do to him?

    Slice his arm?

    Cut his throat?

    He felt his hand tingle as it had just moments before becoming welded to the tree, but a sharp intake of breath made him look up into Balen¡¯s wide eyes. The man¡¯s proud face no longer reflected the hatred that had been smouldering there but moments before. Something he had seen had wilted the expression, transforming it into a grimace that at last resembled fear.

    From around the edge of the clearing, the silence was broken by indrawn breaths and the obscure oaths of those watching. Confused, James at last obeyed the impulse to regard his tingling hand and saw that the handle of the sword was already nestled between his fingers. The sword felt weightless in his grasp, its graceful blade perfectly in balance with the hand to which it was attached.

    Lord Balen regarded him now with disbelief as he took an uncertain step backwards. He, like everyone else in the clearing, had just witnessed a miracle. The symbol of their saviour, the Blade of Loreth, had risen from the ground at the barbarian¡¯s bidding.

    When the monk spoke next, his voice rose to fill the wide clearing, but gone was any lingering trace of anger or scorn. In its place was a voice once more strong and resolute, a voice that spoke only of hope.

    ¡®Behold, people of Kellandria. A magician returns to the land of our peoples.¡¯