There was a mist hanging over the mysterious forest that should not have existed and yet there it was. It lingered in an unholy fashion which chilled the eyes of all those who caught sight of the massive forest. Yet the only men that ever cast their attention upon the rolling hills covered in the high pine trees were usually dead. For this place was unlike most of the other vast acres of interlocked canopies that spread across forested hills. This was the place known as Satan’s Spell. It was the home of the dead and those who had yet to discover that they were no longer in the realms of the living.
Uriah Moon had been correct when he had described the variety of men who resided among the countless trees, his only error was that since his last visitation to the region, most of those he spoke were no long alive.
The trees which grew as high as the clouds and covered the rolling hills made it appear to be the most peaceful of places but as the courageous Moon had discovered, it was nothing like it seemed to be.
Even the most mature of men had been fooled by its natural beauty and fallen prey to its mysterious ways.
Looks were often deceptive. In the case of this seemingly endless expanse of trees with their dense canopies that blocked out the greater part of the sun, it truly was.
Some said that it was pure evil which dwelled in its many forms that created the low hanging fog that made the interior of the forest dimmed to twilight even on the brightest of days. The solitary trail road which cut a path through the dense trees was mostly overgrown as it was seldom used. Those who had used this trail in order to reach the settlement of Cougar’s Bluff either never reached their destination or fell victim to one or more of its many lethal dangers.
The Cheyenne medicine man Grey Owl was still somewhere within the vast forested Satan’s Spell and so were his many followers but the numerous outlaws who had been hiding from the law had vanished during the previous few months.
Some said it had been the Indians who had defeated them in various bloody battles, but no one knew for sure. Perhaps the collection of ruthless killers and bank robbers had just left this infamous place to find a safer sanctuary or they had fallen victim to the curse which had claimed so many of those who had ventured into the countless acres of trees.
Men who had the courage to ride willingly into Satan’s Spell soon regretted their actions. For it was not just the renegade Cheyenne warriors who were deadly in the huge expanse of forest, that the naïve had to be wary of. There were also the grizzly bears that never seemed to hibernate and who could cut a grown man in half with one stroke of their claws. They roamed in a ravenous fury which meant almost certain death to anyone or thing that had the misfortune of encountering them.
Then there were the wolves. Packs of the largest and most vicious wolves to be found anywhere in the country all seemed to call Satan’s Spell their home. These blood-thirsty canines wandered in organized packs throughout every mile of the dense forest. They were not satisfied with just hunting and killing deer, they had an appetite which had long ago placed human being on their menu.
The snakes which were normally found in hotter and rockier regions were also found in Satan’s spell. They too had a taste for killing menfolk as well as anything else they could swallow whole.
Yet this treacherous terrain which was best avoided had other things which could and would destroy those who trespassed within its boundaries.
Spells abounded in this place. Spells older than time itself. Spells which it was said could do the impossible and often did were even more dangerous than any of the living creatures who resided in the massive forest.
For centuries the reputation of Satan’s Spell had grown like a cancer and continued to defy those who tried to understand it and those who were stupid enough to think that they were too civilized to ever fall victim to its many forms of death.
From a distance the ocean of trees seemed harmless enough and offered a temptation which many could not resist. A beautiful place of trees of every shade of green that even the imagination could never better or equal, lured the naïve into its lethal jaws. Most were never heard of again. They simply disappeared and became another lost soul.
Some said that a more accurate name for this devilish place should have been the forest of death. For death was the one certainty that the unwary could expect to meet in the dangerous depths of the forested hills.
Even the renegade Cheyenne braves had not been immune to the perils that Satan’s Spell posed yet the mesmerizing Grey Owl refused all his followers pleas to leave the forest until he had received his tenth vision.
Grey Owl was a formidable leader. None dared challenge his will or his words for fear of what the medicine man might do to them. He dictated and his followers blindly obeyed. They were no longer like others of their famous tribe and had become simply the body to his deranged brain.
Like so many others cut from the same cloth as Grey Owl, he had his visions and was regarded by the weaker minded of his people as being almost a prophet.
Yet even Grey Owl and all the magic he was said to be able to muster was no match for the Satan’s Spell.
There was a curse that was rumored to be placed upon all those who defiantly dared to enter this huge landscape. Even those who simply were attempting to navigate its overgrown trail to Cougar’s Bluff were not immune to its wrath and its ultimate punishment.
Yet every year the tally of death rose.
It seemed that no amount of evil reputation was enough for some people. They wrongly assumed that as the trail was said to lead to the quiet settlement of Cougar’s Bluff, then it had to be safe. It sounded logical but nothing in this land of magic and bloody mayhem was logical.
It was reputed that hidden from prying eyes, there were waterfalls and rivers within its vast boundaries. Caves and clearings which could not be seen until you actually stumbled upon them were secreted within Satan’s Spell.
Ancient prospectors had long claimed that rocks of golden nuggets were everywhere within the dense forested hills just waiting to be discovered and every year numerous innocents believed them and rode into the infamous forest.
It was the journey of no return.
This was the demonic place where there were no rules it was safe to follow and the only certainty was that death was waiting for the foolhardy to challenge its might.
And death had many ways of striking out at those who wrongly considered themselves beyond its reach.
Satan’s Spell hid its evil in plain sight.
Evil dripped from every branch of every tree within its vast expanse and for many their blood also dripped from every vein in their bodies once they had thrown caution to the wind and defied every warning that they had ever heard.
For some they simply needed a place to hide from the law.
Others needed a place where they could wait for divine inspiration knowing they would seldom be troubled.
A few entered because they had no alternative.
Others chose to ignore all the warnings and head into the infamous Satan’s Spell willingly anyway. They had fallen victim to the tall stories of untold quantities of precious gold and wanted their share of it.
So as the sun was sinking into the surrounding tree covered hills, two young horsemen approached leading a pair of sturdy pack horses laden with their ample provisions and mining equipment. They were well prepared for prospecting in the well sheltered forested hills, but were not prepared for what else lurked there.
They had laughed at the eerie tales told to them by others who lived in the nearby settlement of Copper Wells. Over the previous few years they had heard many similar stories of haunted places and had learned that usually these stories were designed to stop others from locating precious ore.
Bob Drew and Cole Jones spurred their mounts and entered the tree covered terrain eagerly. They steered their horses through the dense overgrown undergrowth which spread from tree to tree as though nature itself was attempting to prevent their entry into the notorious wilderness. Yet the youthful and ambitious Drew and Cole had spent the last of their meagre savings to finance this expedition and were not the sort to let awkward terrain and ghost stories stop them.
They guided their mounts and their pack animals up through the trees as the last rays of the sun slowly vanished behind them. Fleeting gasps of crimson light moved across the tree trunks as they progressed deeper into the uncharted forest in search of a good place to make camp for the night. Neither knew what awaited them in the depths of the enchanted forest which they knew was called Satan’s Spell.
If they had, they might have turned back.
But both Bob Drew and Cole Jones were young and filled with an optimism that could not be so easily deterred. Thoughts of discovering the motherlode far outweighed any potential dangers which might have awaited them.
Youth and greed had a way of creating bravery in even the most passive of souls.
As darkness overwhelmed the prospectors they continued to steer their horses through the trees. Neither had any intension of turning back now.
Yet if either rider had been fully alert they might have just noticed that the forest was strangely quiet. Far quieter than was usual in similar heavily wooded places. Not even birds were greeting the coming of night or the passing of another day as was usual.
But their entry into the forest had not gone unnoticed.
As Drew and Jones continued on into the unknown, they were unaware that they were being watched. Watched by demonic eyes.