The city of Zashchita lay only days ahead of them at the far edge of the forest; in retrospect, it seemed to be cut out of the forest. A few leagues away from its lookouts, the forest began anew. Noman knew this, as he knew the sun would rise in the morning. Vast ranges of forests cut across the face of the territories—too much—thought Noman. He looked forward to the time when they would reach the sea and cool, coastal breezes.
The humidity in the forest seeped into his skin and his soul. He breathed in the moisture from the air around him. Three days of rain filtering through the trees had set all in gloomy moods except Adrina. It wasn’t because she rode inside the carriage, which was dry, but because the rain brought fond memories. She liked the slight feeling of sadness the raindrops gave her; in an odd sort of way, the sadness actually lifted her spirits.
Adrina thought about the words Noman spoke to her when they stopped. She dwelled upon them. A pain in her stomach caused her to wince, and she leaned her head out the carriage. The fresh air against her face made her feel better, but the queasiness still did not go away. After she got rid of her lunch, her stomach settled down, at least temporarily. Her hands swept down to the mark upon her belly. “Tnavres,” she said quietly to herself, “Tell your master, I will never do what he asks.”
The carriage jolted to a sudden halt, and Noman jumped down from its seat, as did Xith. In front of them, Amir and Nijal also dismounted. Storms had knocked down a group of trees that blocked the road before them. Noman quickly calculated the options; the forest was too thickly overgrown with underbrush to move around the trees, especially for the coach. The choice remaining was the obvious one, move the trees, which would not be an easy task.
Amir yelled to Shchander and his men to move up from the rear and assist, but by the time he yelled, they were already coming. Hours of toil and sweat later, their combined might moved the first tree a few feet. Amir looked to Noman in frustration but would not give up.
He scratched his head and told the others to put their backs into it this time. On his mark they began again, grunting and groaning as the eleven of them strained beneath the tree’s weight, which was going nowhere. Nijal stopped and stripped down his gear, as if it would help, as did the others. “Again,” signaled Amir.
Sweat pouring down his face, but with no lessening of determination, Amir called them to a halt minutes later. As he slumped down, spent, the others also rested. After a brief respite, he stood and slapped his hands together, spit into them, and rubbed them together again.
Anger was evident on his face as he motioned for them to give it another try. The others followed without hesitation or complaint, putting every last ounce of their strength into one last attempt. Success lighted Amir’s face as they moved the tree from the ground, albeit only inches; slowly they walked it back. They had moved it about a foot when it became clear it was stuck and wasn’t going to budge anymore.
Xith and Noman called them to a stop. They decided that they would try magic to levitate the carriage across, as opposed to wasting the entire day trying to move the trees. “Unhook the team,” called out Noman. Adrina stepped out of the wagon to watch the spectacle.
Xith looked to Noman. Both had hoped to avoid the use of magic or its forms for as long as possible as much as possible. It might give away their position, a thing they did not want to happen, especially if the enemy did not know where they were. He slowly began building energy within himself, taking it in from the energies around him. Odd, he thought to himself, the energy wasn’t as strong here as he would have expected.
Amir looked amused as he watched Xith struggle to gather the power within him. He watched and thought about the problem and came up with a new solution. He signaled to Nijal and pointed to the carriage. Shchander hesitated, but his men joined in without him. Amir and Nijal picked up the rear of the wagon while the other eight lifted the midsection and the front. They squatted and lifted in unison, surprised at how light it seemed compared to the tree.
With a few groans and grunts, they made it over the barrier of trees and placed the coach on the opposite side. Noman was quick to laugh at the simple resolution of the dilemma, but also quick to stop Xith from drawing in any more energy. Xith stopped, looked, and took a second look before he realized what had occurred, but he was also quick to grin in relief that the obstacle had been overcome.
In a short while, and after a short rest, they were moving along the trail again; thoughts of the rain, the humidity, and Zashchita, were for the moment forgotten. Shchander and Nijal broke into light conversation about their home city of Solntse, and the grudge between them also lifted. Nijal insisted that Shchander retain the title of captain. Nijal was fairly settled on the fact that he was not ready to return to Solntse any time soon to regain his office; and if Nijal had his way, Shchander would return to Solntse once they safely reached Krepost’ on the edge of Statter’s Bay.
Noman was perplexed. Concern played heavily on his face as they rode on, bringing a furrow to his brow. It was something Xith had said to him just as they had departed that had sparked the consternation. His fears caused him to lose track of everything around him as he turned inward. There was a presence in the farthest reaches of his thoughts that he could not grasp.
A shadow passed over the sky above unnoticed. Xith rode in the coachman’s seat beside Noman, still a little miffed at the proceedings. Xith fiddled nervously with his fingers, the touch of them against each other was wrong.
A breeze, albeit slight, began to stir, moving through the trees with a whisper. Subtly, the temperature began to change, and the air around them became cooler as the humidity dissipated. Noman and Xith were not the only ones fidgety; the oddities around them played on Amir’s senses, made more perceptive by his blindness.
Adrina drew in a quiet breath; the sudden coolness brought on drowsiness. She watched the trees pass with their leaves of green, brown, and gold. Her eyes grew heavier and her breathing slowed, and then she drifted off to a light slumber. Her thoughts were mostly pleasant as she shifted to a deeper, peaceful sleep.
The trail became dense and twisted; large overgrown patches were in rich abundance. Thick shadows formed beneath the trees and as they moved deeper into the shadows the light of day slowly faded. The trees around them spoke of ancient times; their forms grew as thick and tangled as the path.
The harbinger of night fell quickly upon them although it was far from dusk. They found themselves huddling closer together. Even Adrina, who was sleeping soundly now, suddenly felt solitude, a great separation between her and the world around her. Spontaneous reactions brought many hands to the hilts of weapons held yet in their scabbards.
They waited with bated breath, fingers playing restlessly against hardened metal, minds filled with images of looming horrors. Gloom sank into their souls, creating specters in the trees. Without realizing it, they slowed to a lethargic, careful pace.
Minutes became hours as the seconds ticked past, a heart beat at a time, a breath at a time. Every sound caught the ears of the listeners—a trodden stick, a moving branch, the breeze rustling through the trees. Nervous eyes darted from side to side in anticipation.
Shchander motioned for his companions to split up and ride alongside the carriage, four to a side, while he went to the front. He cast his eyes towards Noman and Xith, shrugging his shoulders. He wanted to ask, “What is it? What is wrong?” for surely they must know the answer, he thought, yet his mind told him not to break the silence.
Xith returned Shchander’s gesture—he did not know. Something weighed heavily upon him although he could not touch it. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his palms with his thumbs. The minute spark of energy created as he did so trickled across his thumbnails.
Ahead, the growth around them grew sparse, but the darkness did not dissipate. It loomed around them, clinging to their souls. A clear disjoining lay ahead and as they passed it, the shadows seemed to lift. Then as suddenly as they had come, the dark clouds overhead scattered.
“Help me! Somebody, please help me!” screamed Adrina. Her body was fixed with convulsions, “Help me!” she whimpered.
The coach came to a sudden halt, and Adrina was jolted backwards into the padded seats. She lay there trembling, afraid to move. “Make them go away!” she yelled. “Make them go away!”
Two large figures unfurled the doors to the carriage and leaped inside. They stared blankly at one another. The coach contained no one save them and Adrina. “Princess, there is nothing here. You are alone.”
“No, they are here!” she cried, her eyes pleading with them to listen to her.
“Adrina, are you unwell?” yelled a familiar voice.
“Xith, please send them away! Make them leave!”
“Please,” said Xith, “leave her alone.” Xith indicated that the others should leave and he took Adrina’s hand and led her outside. “What is it, dear?” he asked sympathetically.
“Please send them away. Make them go!”
“Them?” asked Xith, pointing to the two who had just returned to their mounts.
“No, not them. They are there,” said Adrina, pointing to the inside of the carriage.
Xith peered into the interior of the coach, “There is no one there. It is empty.”
“No,” cried Adrina bursting into tears. “They came for me. They want me to go with them.”
Xith was confused and worried. He glanced at Noman, subtly asking, “Is there something there?” Noman stepped down from the buckboard, and inspected the carriage. Afterwards, he shook his head negatively. He saw nothing. “You must have been dreaming, my dear. Everything is fine now, I assure you.”
“No, it is not,” replied Adrina. “They have come for me because I won’t do what he asks.”
The way she said it sent chills down Xith’s spine. He looked to Noman again for assistance, then to Amir and finally Nijal. Nijal took Adrina’s hand and returned with her to the coach. As Nijal stepped into its confines, Adrina froze cold, her face fixed in a mask. “No,” she repeated. She would not step within.
“Adrina, I assure you there is nothing here,” said Nijal, sitting. Adrina held firm. Nijal stood and took her hand, pulling her inside. Adrina became hysterical. She started screaming and shouting frantically, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. “Please, no,” she said pitifully.
Nijal held her hand warmly, caressing it, soothing her, slowly coaxing her to step in. “There, there,” he whispered to her as she leaned her head against him. One small step at a time, he drew her into the carriage, and they started anew although all were a little shaken. They would be very glad to have this section of the forest far behind them.
The remainder of the day proceeded smoothly. They set up camp just as dusk came on. Xith was still puzzling over what Adrina had said. He tried to help her by talking about what she had dreamt, but Adrina would not talk about it. Fear was still evident in her eyes, and she did not want to be left alone this evening. That was clear.
Nijal took the cushioned bench across from Adrina as they lay down to retire for the evening. He watched her as she lay there for hours with her eyes wide open. “What is it?” he asked softly.
“Nijal, can we sleep outside tonight?”
Nijal thought about it for a time, and as he did so, Adrina said, “I will not get dirty. I will be fine on the ground. I do not need special comforts.” Nijal agreed, but he would not allow her to simply lie on the ground. He woke Shchander and his men, and the ten of them gathered a nest of pine needles for Adrina to rest upon. The light seemed to return to Adrina’s eyes as she lay down to sleep.
Father Jacob paced nervously in his command tent. He was alone. Captain Mikhal had left in search of the seventh, and Keeper Martin was gone, to where he wasn’t sure. If he were not a holy man, his curses would have been foul. He did not like the dilemma he was faced with. How could they leave, but how could he justify not leaving? He had given his promise to King Andrew and to Prince Valam, but he had also given new promises to Keeper Martin.
“Why did I let him leave?” rang his voice loudly about the empty command tent. The page outside the tent quickly entered and stared at him. Father Jacob waved him away. “Be gone!” he yelled. As the page retreated from the tent, Father Jacob caught a glimpse of the sky outside; it was as foul as his mood, which sent him deeper into his rage.
He walked over to the table and stared blankly at the half-filled charts strewn across its surface. He cast them aside and unrolled several more from a trunk near the table. His heart fell heavily as he examined the coast of the kingdom. The next chart contained hastily written remarks that Jacob couldn’t decipher—winds, currents, times, and cycles with blank spaces and question marks, which Jacob assumed were estimates, or better yet, guesses.
Fatigue suddenly overwhelmed him, as it had often of late. He slumped into a chair, sitting motionless until his breath returned. He again threw the charts aside, cursing Keeper Martin as he did so; immediately, he unrolled a piece of parchment and began hurriedly scribbling.
Hours later, as he finished the scroll, he placed it with the other scrolls of his account, careful to secure them with lock and key in a small chest, which he placed back into the larger trunk. The page hesitated before entering, clearing his throat to ensure that it was okay to come in.
The page set Jacob’s lunch on the table, meager as it was. Rations were extremely low even for one of Jacob’s stature. Jacob had insisted on equal rations for everyone including himself. With his face set in a mask, Jacob ate and for a time cleared his thoughts of all matters, even those of a pressing nature. As he finished, the page came back and took the plate, exiting without uttering a word.
The food sat thick and warm in his belly. Jacob sat still for quite some time, staring emptily at the wall of the tent. Anxiety and exhaustion coupled with internal turmoil brought him to the verge of collapse yet again. He had not slept in days, as was evident by the hollow shells of his eyes.
“Was it all for nothing?” he asked himself as his world faded to blackness. The camp was at the brink of depleting its last food stores; the little they had would only last a few more days at the most, and that only if they continued the strict rationing. They had only enough wood to maintain meager fires for cooking and little else. Water was the only thing they had in abundance.
Images played through his mind. He recalled distinctly the day they departed Imtal, the sojourn to Quashan’, the trek across the dark waters, reaching the Eastern Reaches, but most clear in his mind were the emotions in Keeper Martin’s face as he triggered the ancient device and disappeared. Jacob could not tell if it was surprise or shock or horror; nonetheless, Martin was gone now, and he, Jacob, was alone.