Part II ~ Arvalla




Chapter 1

The Nurune Codex had passed hopelessly beyond their means of retrieving it. With bands of foul creatures roaming widely over the dark land of Tath there was now no way the weary companions could pursue the sorcerer Nostaite any further. The portentous tome would reach the dark lord Silgoth at Hélethrôn, and then all the vile secrets of Mythron would be revealed to this new enemy, who no doubt would readily use them to extend his own powers. In time he might achieve even the terrible Unsundering, toward which Mythron had secretly been striving when he was vanquished by the Allies at the end of the Ilimathäen War.
      And so now the wizard Raavan (with his owl Airi), the warrior Alatar, the Dwarf Burak, and the Elflings Talen, Falco, and Dannadar would abandon the hopeless task of retrieving the codex. They would instead do their utmost to persuade the free kingdoms to muster their armies and to organise a concerted assault against the rising enemy in Tath while there still was a glimmer of hope that such an assault might succeed.
      Yet, at the moment, the more immediate goal of the company was simply to survive the many dangers of Tath, for they had ridden some hundred miles into that bleak land, encountering countless spawn along the way. Now they would be hard pressed to ride again to safer lands without encountering many of the same gangs of roving monsters which they had met during their pursuit of Nostaite. Some of those patrols would surely recognise the daring comrades and would be less hesitant this time to give chase. And there now was the possibility that the sorcerer Nostaite had through his service to the Deathlord brokered some influence with Silgoth’s grim horde and might even now be sending a contingent of foul beasts to hunt for the party.
      Already it was late in the day, yet they still were far from the plains of Enediad. These plains opened onto the wider lands of Malindor, where the harried party supposed they might find at least some safety, and so on toward the south-east they travelled. Late into the night they rode till their steeds began to stumble with fatigue, for the day had been hot and they had ridden long and hard. Yet, as they dared not light a torch they went in darkness, and so their progress was now very slow. Around the mid of night they stopped in a small, out-of-the-way hollow to take a very much needed rest. Two kept watch at all times, and all was kept in readiness for a quick departure should any challenge come in the night.
      They resumed their trek at first light, and for much of the morning they encountered little difficulty. They were riding hard now and it was estimated that at this rate they would cross through Enediad into Malindor in the early afternoon. But their encounters with Silgoth’s beasts increased in frequency as the day wore on, for many of the Deathlord’s spawn had been specially bred for greater tolerance to the sun’s light, and as there was again a layer of clouds hanging thickly overhead the creatures were hardly compelled to restrict their daytime ventures.
      Once again the company ran the gauntlet as packs of Troells and Goblyns, the latter often mounted upon Daonracht, continually persecuted the desperate comrades. When they could the company tried to outrun the enemy, but the Daonracht were fleet of foot and bore their wicked riders with considerable speed and endurance, so that to avoid engaging the enemy directly became increasingly difficult as the strength of their own steeds began at length to flag.
      Late in the day they saw that a great forest was now creeping up from the south to meet them. A massive wall it was, of the darkest green and attended by a heavy atmosphere that crowded closely about its head.
      ‘That is Druadaneth, the Dark Forest,’ declared Alatar. The party came to a halt as the man surveyed their surroundings. ‘It appears that we have been forced by our many encounters with the spawn to wander too far south. We must turn east if we wish to pass through Enediad, for the Tere will block our way south and east of here for a hundred miles at the least.’
      Raavan did not seem pleased, though he agreed with the man’s assessment. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Yet, I am afraid that as we move further east we will only encounter mounting numbers of spawn, for the traffic through Enediad appears to be greater even than what Ryanu described.’
      ‘What other options have we?’ asked Burak.
      Raavan looked about for a moment as his fingers idly explored the tangle of his white beard. ‘We might consider a passage through Druadaneth,’ mused the wizard.
      ‘Through the Dark Forest?’ said Talen with some surprise. ‘Is that not a fell place?’
      Dannadar voiced his reluctance as well: ‘Um, Raavan—didn’t you say that this Silgoth fellow had till recently dwelt in that very place? Surely there must be things dark and hideous still haunting it. Just looking at it chills my very spirit.’
      ‘For a time Silgoth did reside at Mâg Tuor,’ acknowledged the wizard, ‘which is at the north-west end of the forest, quite far from where we are now. And yes, Druadaneth can be a fell place if you are not careful to steer clear of some of its darker corners. But I am thinking that our journey needs to take us through Arnedia in any event, and that land lies due south, below Telesse on the far side of Druadaneth.’
      ‘I have no fear of the forest,’ said Burak. ‘If that is the way you choose, then lead on.’
      Raavan turned then to Alatar, who with a nod indicated that he also was willing to follow the path through the wood if Raavan deemed it their best course.
      ‘Very well,’ declared the wizard, ‘we will try the forest. It should considerably reduce our encounters with the spawn and at the same time serve as a short cut.’
      Alatar agreed. ‘It will give us a chance to slow our pace somewhat without losing much time. Our steeds are nearly spent, and I fear we will come to depend on them critically in the weeks ahead.’
       
       
      Druadaneth was indeed a dark place. The trees were among the largest and oldest which Talen had ever seen. The great boles thrust their gnarled branches every which way, twisting and turning in a most unruly and obscene fashion. Their bark was of a uniformly dark grey colour, though many of the giants clearly harboured some disease which caused a black growth to bulge rudely out in places. Overhead was supported a thick canopy of broad, waxy leaves that shut out what sunlight was able to filter through the clouds. Inside the forest there was very little light at all, and within the deeper recesses it was necessary to light a torch in order to avoid tripping over the many searching, grasping roots that sprawled everywhere over the ground.
      For now the company did not venture into these darker reaches but stayed instead just within the margin of the wood, well nigh under the very eaves, for they would follow the margin of the forest south-east till they came to the great escarpment that was the Tere, and then they would travel more or less south along the upper ledge of that lengthy cliff and so find their way out again on the far side. At least this was the plan, and for the time being all in the company found it an agreeable one and so they followed it as best they could.
      Immediately upon reaching the forest they noticed that the land had begun to rise. South-east they travelled for some time before coming to the beginning of the great escarpment. At this they turned toward the south, and what began as a modest drop to their left grew rapidly until a sheer cliff fell away to a treacherous fall below. Always the trees grew right up to the very edge of the precipice, and so they were constantly within the woods whether they liked it or not. At least they felt less exposed now than before, and as of yet they had encountered no enemies.
      Though they did not venture deep into the forest, as evening had arrived it soon became quite dark. They halted for the night to avoid making any missteps, for they had developed a healthy respect for the ubiquitous roots all about them and also for the sheer fall near at hand.
      It was decided that they should keep a fire that night, both to ward off any of the less formidable creatures that might be lurking about and to provide a source of light in case a more serious encounter occurred which should not be waged in total darkness. Yet, they did not wish for their blaze to act as a beacon to all the spawn wandering on the plains of Malindor below, so they removed a short distance into the forest before setting up camp. Here the great trunks of the ancient trees would shield their fire from unfriendly eyes while providing some safety at close quarters. Airi as usual flew off after camp was set up to hunt for his dinner.
      The company had no foodstuffs to cook over the fire, for they were living entirely off of the Melimbar, of which they now had but a few days’ supply. Water also would soon be at a premium as they had not encountered any potable water since before their traversal of the Cérron in Malindor. But for the time being there was enough to go around and they ate their meal gratefully, and with little unnecessary talk. All eyes were on the dark trees about them, for there was an oppressive feeling in the air, as if the very wood itself were watching them, wishing them gone—or worse.
      At length Dannadar broke the silence. ‘I can see why Silgoth was so fond of this place. I think if I ever decided to become a Deathlord this is just the sort of place I’d like to be.’
      Raavan replied, ‘Yes, Druadaneth has long been a haven for creatures dark and vile. Yet, it was not always so. In ages past Druadaneth was the Elder Wood, for here dwelt the Sildarien Elves before their final departure from Entira. In the place that is now called Mâg Tuor they had their great woodland city, which was called Breithiúil. Alas, it is known to me only through lore, for the Sildara had departed Entira long even before my own arrival.’
      ‘Where did they go?’ asked Talen.
      ‘They returned to their homeland of old across the Great Sea,’ answered the wizard, ‘though precisely where that is located I do not know—somewhere in Sulunerea. There is much about which I have not had the time to enquire concerning the Sildara. Their story is said to be a sad one, and few of the Elves of Entira will speak openly of their departed brethren. Elven hearts can remain heavy for a very long time, even if they seem outwardly ever gay and full of merriment.’
      Talk then turned to the road ahead.
      ‘What can you tell us of the peopled lands toward which we travel, Raavan?’ asked Burak. ‘These kingdoms that you hope to incite to our cause: do you expect to find many willing allies among them?’
      ‘I expect to find some willing and rather more that are less so,’ answered the wizard, ‘yet, we have no choice but to carry our desperate message to them, and in time they will have no choice but to join in the fight. Unfortunately, time is not on our side. But we will do our best.
      ‘Regarding the way, I have made up my mind to travel southward the whole length of Arnedia, all the way to Aglathrad, where we should meet with the high king over that land: His Highness, Eboenninar. Along the way we will rouse the smaller kingdoms as best we can and apprise them of the terrific danger that lurks to their north. After that I am afraid it will be up to His Highness and the local kings beneath him to organise their various militias and hopefully join into an effective army.’
      ‘When will the attack on Silgoth begin?’ asked Dannadar.
      ‘That will have to be determined by men better than myself,’ replied the wizard. ‘Our mission is only to rouse those who yet sleep on the very eve of war. I can act only as an advisor; the respective commanders must command, and the leaders lead. But they need to know the time, and the time cannot be but soon upon us. I would think in the spring at the latest; I would hope sooner. But it will take time enough merely to get the word out. After that a council will have to be convened. For that I am thinking of Valassea, or perhaps Pencairn. We shall see. But for now we need to concentrate on making our way safely through the forest and away from these northern lands where dwell the servants of the Deathlord.’
       
       
      That night they kept a steady watch, and though many strange noises were heard and not a few pairs of baleful eyes appeared briefly in the dark to blink at them once or twice, no alarm was raised to intrude upon the sleep of those not on watch. Yet, troubled sleep it was for some of them, particularly the Elflings, who felt even in unconscious state the malignance of the forest weighing heavily upon them. If they had nightmares they could not remember their substance when morning arrived but only a lingering feeling of slow-building dread that the overcast morning did little to dispel.
      Just as soon as breakfast was had they extinguished their fire and broke camp. Airi, who always returned before first light, now rode upon the wizard’s shoulder. Back out from the woods they went to make their way once again along the upper edge of the escarpment. A fresh breeze blew from the east, and a very welcome one it was. Only then did they notice how stifling had been the air within the close confines of the dense wood.
      South-west they continued and Alatar informed them that they had still a long ways to go, having passed through but a small part of the hundred and fifty mile stretch of forest that they would be compelled to traverse, for Druadaneth was widest here at its south-eastern end. Yet, to seek a narrower place in which to cross was not considered at all wise, for they wished to avoid the northern reaches near Mâg Tuor, where the forest was known to be still blacker, queerer, and far more perilous.
      Though they followed along the edge of the Tere, as the forest grew right up to the ledge they were constrained to travel somewhat within the wood, for they would not have their steeds stumbling over the many twisted, tangling roots which emerged from the crumbling ground atop the precipice. As they travelled on, the fall below became a very great one indeed and Talen found himself loathing the occasional stretches where the terrain forced them closer to the edge. Though the view straight down terrified him, always he found himself unable to resist the urge to glance down at the rocky fall. Many times that day he went over that cliff in his mind, falling so fast he could not breathe, till death found him as he dashed his brains on the rocks below. Surely, there were vastly more ways to die in the wide world than to stay alive. He held on ever more tightly to the reins.
      In the afternoon the sky blackened and a rumble of thunder was heard. Soon it began to rain, modestly at first and then in a drenching downpour that had them venturing deeper into the wood for cover. Then the thunder came booming even louder and a wind blew up to bring sheets of rain deeper into the wood where the party now hid. They had taken refuge under the thick forest canopy, yet still they were pelted with the driving rain till they were soaked through and through. Twenty minutes more it thundered and it blew, and then the storm fairly abated and the party moved on, staying again a respectable distance from the cliff’s edge as muddy pools formed there under the thinning eaves.
      After that it was slow going, for they felt very soggy in their wet clothes and as the sky had not entirely forsaken its threatening countenance they were loathe to change into drier garments just yet. On they rode at little more than a walk, their steeds picking their careful way over gnarly roots that reached out from the dark forest to throw themselves madly over the edge. They began to encounter rockier areas, many of them thickly carpeted with dark green moss. A fair amount of forest detritus there was, too: fallen branches, decaying masses of large tri-lobed leaves, and many bits of husk from the large black nuts that occasionally fell with a thud! to turn their heads in alarm.
      Dusk approached, yet they saw that the sky lightened somewhat, for the clouds were now drawn off with the receding storm. As the darkness began to settle a most curious series of sounds could be heard in the distance: high pitched hoots they were, interspersed with more drawn out howls, yet rather different from the call of any animal they could bring to mind. The consensus was that this must be some mysterious animal of the wood that had as yet not shown itself.
      That night they camped in the open, a fire seeming rather unlikely after the heavy rain. With no fire, only the waybread for food, and a veritable dearth of humour, they set their watch and went about trying to get some sleep. The ground still was quite damp, but the tarpaulin was just large enough for them all to stretch out their bedrolls upon it, though they found themselves in rather closer quarters than some would have liked, what with the sundry feet and snoring faces of their mates close at hand.
      During the night the sky cleared further and the moon shone brightly as it rose up out of the east. Talen’s watch was relatively uneventful. He fell asleep halfway through and dreamt that when he awoke he saw a strange beast just at the edge of the camp. Half man and half goat it was, and with the most devilish horns on his head. The creature leant thoughtfully on a staff and regarded the sleeping company from a distance, and though Talen was sure it was only a dream, so real was it that he swore he could have reached out and touched the beast. Other dreams strange and disquieting came to him in the later part of the night after his watch was finally concluded, but of these he could remember very little when morning came at last to dispel the dreamy shadows.
      The next morning they struck out early, for their advance had as yet been rather slow and all of them wished to be through and beyond the forest sooner rather than later.
      By mid-morn they had in fact begun to make better time, for the ground was now drying and the task of picking their way had also become somewhat easier. Soon they came to a sharp corner where the Tere suddenly adjusted its course to angle more westerly, and the company followed suit.
      Now the hoots and hollers of the previous night resumed and soon the company were catching glimpses of brown, furry animals swinging high in the trees. Yet the howlers stayed well back from the edge of the forest, preferring instead the darker interior of that fell place at all times, except when they would fetch up to the very tops of the trees to deliver their vocal cacophony.
      When Talen had had a good look at these strange creatures he saw that they had long arms and legs, and also that a broad flap of skin stretched from the length of each arm to the side of the animal’s body, forming something like a bat’s wing. It was this feature which permitted the animal to make exceptionally long jumps, or rather long glides, between branches. Clever fingers with robust claws they had, presumably for grasping hold of tree bark, though by the looks of them they would serve just as well for throttling an unwary traveller. Their ears also resembled those of bats, and they had ugly black faces not unlike those of Gargoyles.
      ‘Haimun,’ supplied Raavan when it was asked what manner of beast this was. ‘Largely harmless, except to solitary travellers—I think we can pay them little heed, and hope that they are the worst we meet during our passage.’ Talen kept a watchful eye on them nevertheless, for it seemed to him that in their eyes he saw a malignant intelligence unlike that normally seen in a common forest animal. Also, he thought that their sharp claws together with their uncanny ability to fly quickly through the forest made them anything but harmless, especially in large numbers.
      Meanwhile the presence of another forest dweller had made itself known, though this one was rather less worrisome. Large mounds of earth were now springing up at every turn, the products of an especially industrious type of forest ant. These swarmed in uncountable numbers over their hills, dragging twigs and other bits of vegetable matter and even dismembered insects up from the forest floor. Onto the teeming mounds they went and thence into the tunnels and myriad passageways beneath. Bright red they were, and wielding a pricking sting, as the company quickly discovered when they decided to rest too close to one of the industrious communities.
      ‘I honestly could do without ants,’ Dannadar commented as they retreated some distance from the nearest mound for a brief respite.
      ‘Actually, the Kalär greatly respect the ants,’ replied Burak, ‘for they are in many ways like Dwarves.’
      ‘I fail to see the resemblance,’ Dannadar said doubtfully with a sidelong glance at the Dwarf.
      ‘It is obvious,’ replied the Dwarf, leading him back to the mound. ‘Consider their strength, and the way they engage in their unceasing industry. The ant toils all the day long with little rest. See how this one carries a pebble twice his size with nary a struggle—were a man that size, that would be a boulder to him. Yet the labouring ant performs his task without complaint. And look at the structure they craft: many bodies working in concert to build a home much larger than any one of them could manage alone. A fortress, nay, an underground kingdom they have constructed for themselves, for they, like the Kalär, prefer to dwell within the living Earth, rather than in a flimsy construction of wood set upon it. Aye, much like Dwarves, they are.’
      ‘Or perhaps,’ suggested Raavan, ‘it is the Dwarves who are like the ants.’ This elicited a snicker from Dannadar.
      ‘Know you the tale of the ant and the Olifant?’ asked Alatar. None there did, though Raavan thought he knew of a tale that sounded similar. ‘Say on,’ urged the wizard, and so the man did.
      ‘In the dry lands far to the south-west there lives a very large animal: immense it is, and with a stupendous long tube for a nose, hanging down fully to the ground. It is the Olifant, and it wanders the deserts and jungles of that faraway land in search of green, leafy trees; for leaves are the staple of its diet. But nearer the coasts it can find other little dainties to snack upon, such as olives and grapes and other fruits, which they relish.
      ‘One day the Olifant was walking in the cool morning through a dry inland valley when he stepped on a particularly pointy caltrop. So deeply was it lodged into his fleshy foot and so sharp the pain which it caused that Olifant fell right over onto the ground, only narrowly missing an anthill that stood just inches away.
      ‘When the ants heard the thunderous noise made by Olifant’s fall they began to rejoice, for they mistook the sound for that of a thunderstorm, and they were much in need of water. They swarmed out of the anthill to receive the blessing of the rains, only to find the enormous Olifant sprawling nearby like a vast grey mountain. Indeed, most of the ants mistook the poor beast for just that, and they wondered at the sudden appearance of this strange landform just outside their front door.
      ‘Yet, the chief ant was very old and very wise, and he knew this to be an animal in distress. Straightway he asked the enormous creature if he could assist in any way. Olifant told the chief of the caltrop in his foot, of the sharp pain that it caused, and that he was unable to reach it even with his lengthy proboscis. The chief thereupon inspected the injury and saw that the thorn was indeed lodged sturdily into the troubled toe.
      ‘So the chief began to issue all manner of orders, and soon the sore sole was aswarm with ants. Round the caltrop they ranged themselves: first a company, then a regiment, and now a full brigade. Arrayed as if for battle they were, and now they assailed the surly stem. They pulled, they heaved, they twisted and they wrenched, till finally the punctured paw was at last free of the pesky picker.
      ‘With the offending twig removed, Olifant felt immensely relieved, and he thanked the chief and the other ants ever so gratefully for their assistance. Then to further show his gratitude he reached into his ear with his long trunk and pulled forth an olive, for he was accustomed to keep a store of them there lest he go hungry on the road. This he gave to the chief, who in turn distributed it among the workers who had toiled over the lame leg, and with it they had a merry feast. When Olifant saw how they enjoyed the olive he bestowed on them the rest of his aural cache, which promptly was carried into the anthill to be eaten another day, for ants are very wise in their rationing of food.
      ‘Before Olifant left his newfound friends he promised that whenever he came through that valley henceforth he would always bring with him a goodly quantity of olives to replenish their supply. The chief was much impressed, and as Olifant did not at that time have a proper name, and as ants consider all animals to be ants (just with different bodily proportions), he called him the olive ant , which over time came to be pronounced olifant . And that is how the Olifant got its name.’
       
       
      They soon were ready to travel again, having taken already more of a rest than they should. It was now noon and as Alatar judged that they had still half the breadth of Druadaneth to travel, they would again have to camp within that dark place: an unpleasant prospect for them all. The strangeness of the forest began to grate on their nerves, for they were constantly looking this way and that to catch things they thought they saw, or heard, or merely sensed to be there. Yet, no animals or other living beasts did they encounter other than the ants and the Haimun.
      Suddenly the forest ended and the ground before them dropped sharply into a steep-walled canyon that cut transversely into the escarpment. Several miles wide it was, yet across the way they could see that the forest continued to the south-west, its dark nature to all appearances fully undiminished by the rift. Looking down they saw that whatever watercourse had over the millennia carved that massive cleft, it had long since dried up, for the rocky valley yawning at their feet was completely barren.
      Thus it was that they began what they hoped would be only a slight detour, following the edge of the canyon as it drove somewhat north of west. A mile they travelled, then two, and after yet a mile more they encountered another cleft. This one cut straight in from the valley on their left, a dry tributary of the extinct river running along its length. Again the canyon was deep and the walls rather treacherous, but as they circumnavigated this newest obstacle they began to spy narrow trails snaking their way down to the valley below. Naturally, the question was raised whether they should attempt a descent.
      ‘I for one don’t fancy making detours around detours for the next three weeks,’ was Dannadar’s argument for descent, and at this several others nodded in agreement.
      ‘How long is yon main canyon?’ asked Burak.
      ‘Several miles at least,’ recalled Raavan.
      ‘Fifteen or twenty,’ said Alatar with displeasure as he searched his own memory. ‘Perhaps twenty-five.’
      ‘Then we will easily spend another day just going round it,’ concluded Burak. ‘That’s another day in this accursed forest!’
      ‘Hush!’ replied Raavan. ‘Be sparing with your curses in this place, for I do not think they fall on deaf ears,’ said the wizard with a cautious glance at the dark trees towering above them.
      ‘Let us go on a while further and see if we can find a better trail to the valley below,’ said Alatar. ‘None of those which I’ve seen so far look especially promising.’
      To this they all agreed, and so on they went, coming in time back to the main canyon. They could see now that it did run on for several miles to the west, showing little or no sign of dwindling in size before its course turned out of view. Yet, soon the sheer sides of the valley softened somewhat, grading out from the vertical and admitting the formation of at least the beginnings of trails, though these were still quite steep and offered no clear assurance of a safe descent.
      In time they came to a rocky trail that appeared sufficiently wide and gradual in its declivity that it might permit their steeds to find safe footing. Also, they thought they could almost trace a complete path to the valley floor as they surveyed the landscape from above. Some of the party still were not entirely decided on the matter, but as the day was wearing on none wished to make a lengthy debate of it, and so they began the descent.
      At first the venture went smoothly enough as the path was well worn and fairly clear of debris, but this had the effect of encouraging some among them to take rather less care than was entirely prudent. Before long they began to encounter piles of loose rubble. In these places their steeds would sometimes stumble, sending loose rocks and dirt falling down onto further sections of the same trail that snaked back beneath the descending party. The further they went the more and larger were the rocks that were caused to rain down onto the valley below, till finally they began to fear that they might cause a landslide large enough either to block the trail below or perhaps even to carry a stumbling pony and its rider to almost certain death.
      For this reason it was agreed that they would turn back the first chance they got and climb again to the forest above. To their great relief they soon reached a broad shelf which enabled them to do this. Turning their steeds about they began the ascent, but before they had gone very far one of the ponies stumbled, nearly throwing its rider before regaining its balance. Once more a shower of rocks were rained down upon the landscape below, but this time the perturbation did not die out, instead gaining momentum as its size was swelled by the addition of other loose rubble along the way.
      The avalanche thundered down the side of the canyon as boulders the size of houses were put into motion by the passing force. The violent disturbance seemed to last interminable minutes, though in fact it was very swift. When the colossal mass crashed into the valley floor the company could feel the very earth shake. A cloud of dust began to rise from the path of the tumult as the echoes of the din died away, and then the sun shone down quietly on the barren canyon once more.
      The company all were unharmed, yet they would not tempt fate again in that place. They all dismounted and led their steeds in the most careful and deliberate manner they could. Slowly they climbed back up the trail, content with their pitiable rate of progress so long as not one stone shifted except by their design.
      When they reached the top they remounted, took a sip of water (for it was hot in the summer sun), and took up the reins with the intention of resuming their detour. They were not able to continue their trek just then, however, for a contingent of Goblyns rode out of the deeper woods with swords drawn, closing upon the unprepared companions with frightening speed. Airi alighted in a nearby tree to menace the foe with vicious screeches.
      Later it would be presumed that the Goblyns had been drawn by the sound of the landslide, but for now there was no time for such thoughts. Weapons were hastily drawn and in mere seconds battle was joined. Talen found himself beside Falco hacking for dear life. The Goblyns on their Daonracht sat higher than the Elflings, and with their long, bony arms they brought down strokes from above which the Elflings strove mightily to fend off. Though some of the Goblyns were armed with swords, others had long-handled axes called cleavers which they expertly wielded against the inferior force.
      For long moments the only sound was that of steel on steel, the grunts and heavy breathing of the combatants drowned by the clanging of weapons. The Elflings were hard pressed to overcome the relentless reavers with only their Dwarven short-swords. Burak and Raavan had more luck wielding Tuin and Fheoir, battle axe and broadsword, against the vile spawn. As they chopped and hacked the occasional sound of steel sinking into flesh was heard, accompanied by falling Goblyn limbs and the spray of their thick blood.
      Noromendor of course was most effective against the raging enemy, for wherever the Green Flame slashed, weapons and bodies were cloven in twain and Goblyns fell dead or dying. The fallen bodies were charred and mutilated, often headless and twitching and sometimes even thrashing the ground violently in the final throes of death. Yet, the enemy’s numbers were far superior and the companions had little room to manoeuvre with the canyon’s edge lying just a short distance behind them.
      And so on they fought, with death at their fore and death at their rear, yet little by little the numbers of the foe began to dwindle as Burak and Raavan, and especially Alatar, strove with the enemy to decide this mortal contest. When the last Goblyn had been felled and the smell of their black ichor began to assault the companions’ noses the weary comrades retreated a short distance from the scene of the carnage to see to their wounds and recuperate from their strenuous exertions.
      Though they all received various nicks and scratches, none were severely injured. They washed and bandaged their wounds and then quietly swallowed a Melimbar cake and some water. It was decided that they should remove themselves some distance from the canyon’s edge, lest they become trapped again between an enemy and a treacherous fall. With a wide enough berth they should be able to flee any overpowering force they might encounter, and at the same time they would be less likely to be found by any searching parties drawn to the canyon’s edge by the sound of the avalanche. It was decided also that they would go in as near silence as would be practicable. Through these efforts it was hoped that their chances of further engagement would be significantly lessened.
      Deeper into the woods they went and now they found that they were in a dark place indeed. Above them the canopy of black leaves absorbed the sunlight before it could filter down to the understory. All about them the great hoary trunks and gnarly branches stood as silent and eerie sentinels against any that would brave the dark wood and learn its ghastly secrets.
      On they went, and very quietly, too. Only the faint rustle of dry leaves beneath their hooves gave them away. The wood itself was very still, for no Haimun could now be heard, no birds sang, and no squirrels scurried in that dismal place. The air was very stuffy, for there was not even the slightest breeze to be felt, so that even in the deep shade of the forest it was stiflingly hot. The companions became very uncomfortable owing to both the humidity and the foreboding silence that set them on edge and demanded of them a most taxing alertness.
      On they went at their slow, careful pace, covering some ten miles at least before they spied a grassy, treeless hill rising up before them. As they ventured out into the open they observed that there were a series of hills marching off toward the north and west, some higher than others, with several rising up well above the tallest of the surrounding trees. Up the nearest of these they ascended so that they might have a view of their surroundings and thereby measure their progress.
      Upon reaching the crest they were surprised and dismayed to find a large stone alter littered with what appeared to be the charred remains of human corpses: a blackened hand here, a battered skull there. From the ashes Alatar was able to conclude that a fire had been used there as recently as the previous night. Of course, this set them all at unease, for not only did they not know who or what had been frequenting the place to perform their dreadful rituals, but also they noted that the westering sun left them only about an hour to distance themselves from this place. Should the vile worshippers return for another performance that evening the companions knew they would risk engaging the miscreants if they tarried overlong in this place.
      Scanning the landscape now they endeavoured to take their bearings, but at first all they saw were endless miles of unbroken canopy. Finally they espied a break that they agreed must be the canyon round which they must pass. Judging from its aspect the company saw that they had ventured too far to the north so that they were now some miles from it, yet they also observed that the head of the valley was now within sight. It was agreed that they needed to angle toward the south-west in order to reach the canyon’s head. Then they would decide whether to continue around that landform and back to the edge of the Tere as had been their original plan, or perhaps to exit the forest by way of the canyon and thence back to the plains of Malindor.
      Once this was decided they wasted little time in executing their plan, for the charred corpses littering the vicinity of the altar bespoke of the horrors of the sacrificial orgies that nightly desecrated that place, and none of them wished to witness these in any capacity.
      And so once again they descended into the black forest of Druadaneth and made their careful way through it with what speed and vigilance they could manage. Now the forest had become even queerer than before, for it had enlarged its repertoire of strange sounds. There were woody creaks and earthy groans, and an occasional tremulous screech like the call of some sorrowful bird. Once they thought they heard a muffled shriek in the distance, though they were not at all certain that it was of human origin. Great black moths began to appear, fluttering frantically by as if desperate to find a way out of that dreary place.
      Then the strangest thing of all happened. As Talen was passing by a severely rotted tree stump of near man-height, what appeared to be a long, ropy vine attached to the stump shot out and wrapped itself round the foreleg of Talen’s pony. The steed immediately reared up, nearly throwing the Elfling from his saddle. The branchy arm then began to draw the terrified pony toward the broken tree, which Talen saw to his utter disbelief and horror had opened a single, staring eye and below that a wide mouth with rows of pointed teeth.
      Talen’s pony rolled its eyes in terror as the stump monster drew the steed and its rider ever toward the waiting maw. If the Elfling thought to draw his short-sword and hack through the woody tentacle he was unable to do so, for even had he been able to reach the vine from his mounted position he would not have been able to draw his sword while struggling to stay on the back of his terrified steed.
      Soon Alatar came rushing to his assistance followed by the others just as soon as they could dismount. A single flash of Noromendor and the Elfling’s horse was freed, but not before other vine-like arms lashed out to grasp at the man. Soon the lot of them were battling the monstrous stump, one of them to be dragged to the ground whilst another hacked at the offending appendage to free his tangled comrade. Finally Alatar rendered the creature lifeless by hacking the main stump to pieces with a series of powerful strokes.
      All were uninjured, and after a short rest even Talen’s pony had recovered from its frightful ordeal. Soon they were again on their way, and mostly none the worse for the trying experience. Yet, from then on whenever they saw a rotted stump they would give it a very wide berth, though whether any of these later arboreal corpses had eyes and teeth and grasping tentacles they did not know and did not care to find out.
      Not an hour later they were forced to halt, for what little daylight had been able to penetrate the forest was now gone and it had become pitch black, so that standing close together they could not even see each other. They did not light a fire, but munched on their Melimbar in silence. It had been a grueling day, and all were eager to get some much needed sleep. Before any could bed down, however, there came to their ears the sounds of many steeds riding in the woods nearby and to their eyes came the glare of torchlight some distance to the fore.
      From the sounds and the occasional glimpse of a distant rider they soon gathered that a company of Goblyns were passing by, headed very likely for the canyon head which they guessed was not now far away. They wondered then if this might not represent a nightly incursion into Malindor for the purpose of raiding the camps of the desert people and dragging sacrificial victims back with them. Though this was only a guess, that an egress through the canyon was the spawn’s immediate goal seemed overwhelmingly probable, and that rendered the possibility of their own escape that way a far less attractive one. They realised that no assurance could be gleaned that they would not find themselves trapped within some narrow defile between two groups of Goblyns once they had committed themselves to the steep-walled valley.
      Thus they reluctantly accepted that they would have to continue their trek through Druadaneth in hopes of arriving unharmed at its southern margin. If they followed a straight course to the south they might reach Telesse in as few as seventy or eighty miles; alternatively, following along the southern edge of the canyon and then resuming their path along the Tere would incur a total distance of probably a hundred miles or more. Both plans seemed bleak. It was hoped, however, that by sticking to the edge of the forest they would minimise their encounters with its varied and dangerous denizens, and so this was the plan on which they settled.
      That night they slept where they were, with weapons at the ready should anything untoward happen in the night. Nothing did, however, and in the morning they resumed their trek by heading due south. They soon arrived at the upper end of the valley, which here was still forested, and continuing a short distance further they then turned east and proceeded along the outer edge as it grew again into a steep-walled canyon. By mid-morn they had arrived again at the Tere, and this they now followed toward the south-west.
      Little of note occurred that day. They were nearly out of water, but they were making excellent time and they expected to be out of the forest the following afternoon. Though they had encountered one or two tiny springs along the way Raavan warned them not to drink of the water of Druadaneth, and none questioned his advice. Upon reaching the open plains of Telesse they would find fresh springs aplenty in which to fill their skins, but till then they would have to conserve. The Melimbar also was nearly gone and this was of greater concern, for the Elflings had long ago spent their last arrows, making hunting for wild game a difficult proposition. Yet, for now there was nothing for them to hunt anyway, for although the Haimun did occasional hoot and holler at them from the treetops, none of the company relished the thought of eating the strange beasts.
      They therefore fixed their thoughts on the goal of making rapid progress, a goal that was furthered by the existence of a well-worn trail running fortuitously along the upper edge of the Tere just a safe distance from the precipice. This they followed till nightfall. Because it was a well-worn path, however, they were reluctant to camp too near it for fear that a band of Goblyns or other foe might chance upon them in the night. Thus they resolved to remove themselves some short distance from the trail into the woods.
      As fate would have it they chose an ill-omened place to turn aside in their search for a campsite, for no sooner did they venture into the dark woods than they stumbled onto what appeared to be an ancient monument of sorts. A tall obelisk of white stone rose crookedly up from the ground before them, adorned from top to bottom with strange runes. Round the base of the pillar no plants grew, for rocks were haphazardly thrown there in a low, circular mound.
      As night had now fallen they were not able to examine the artefact in detail, and yet the object had piqued their interest, so they lit a torch and Raavan proceeded to inspect the glyphs carved into the stone structure.
      ‘It appears to be an ancient form of Sorinde,’ said the wizard of the runes, peering closely at the stone without touching it. ‘I can understand very little of it. There is something here about the valour of dying in a great battle...service to the king...the gods...the afterlife. It appears to be the sole marker for a communal barrow. I am guessing that the dead warriors of some ancient war are buried here, probably from the time before the Elves came to this wood. Possibly, it predates even Druadaneth itself. The Highlanders were known to provide memorials such as this, though it really is quite beyond my knowledge. One thing is for certain: it is very ancient.’
      ‘Fascinating,’ mused Dannadar, and he put his hand full upon the obelisk. When he did so a single breeze blew from the deeper wood; faint but chill, they all felt it. ‘This rock: it is ice cold,’ continued the Elfling.
      Just then the mound of rocks at the base of the pillar began to tremble, and as the onlookers backed away apprehensively five figures burst forth from the mound to assail the stunned companions.
      ‘Ghouls!’ shouted Raavan as Fheoir flew from its sheath. As they recovered from their shock the others drew their weapons as well and soon battle was enjoined with these twisted bodies of the undead. Each of these ghastly creatures was armed with a silver-tipped sword and clad in steel armour, but the bodies which that armour protected consisted only of bone and rotting flesh. Long white hair they had and skeletal faces with cold grey eyes. Just the sight of them struck terror into the hearts of the comrades, for these walking corpses fought with the vigour of the living though they stank with the foul miasma of the dead. It was an abomination to their very senses.
      If battling the skeletons of Ilimath had been difficult this was an even worse ordeal, for the Ghouls were far stronger and they wielded a terror that caused even the bravest of the companions to nearly quail and quiver with fear. In the back of his mind each member of the company knew from common lore that were he to die in battle with these fiends that he would then be consumed by them, for it is well known that Ghouls eat the flesh of the living to slow the decay of their own bodies.
      Talen once again found himself next to Falco as together the two of them strove to overcome a single Ghoul. Dannadar stood with Burak against another, but as the Dwarf drove the fiend back with his powerful axe strokes the Elfling was engaged by yet another and was immediately overpowered by the larger assailant. Three powerful strokes he warded off, and then a fourth and a fifth, but the effort of each parry was very taxing, so that when a thrust was made for his shoulder he was simply unable to stop it. The icy blade struck his Dwarven chain mail straight on, rending several of the rings and just penetrating into the Elfling’s flesh. He cried out, then fell backward to the ground as the Ghoul moved in to finish him off. With a firm two-handed grip the Ghoul raised the hilt of his sword overhead for the final thrust, but the top half of his decaying body fell back to the ground as Noromendor rent the Ghoul in twain at the waist. Now three of the foe were down and Alatar went off to assist Falco and Talen, who struggled still with their own adversary.
      Several minutes more and the last Ghoul had finally been cut down, all their heads having been removed as a precautionary measure. Dannadar was aided to his feet, but he was bleeding freely from his injured shoulder and he complained of a sharp pain there. Raavan and Alatar hastily dressed his wound after the company removed a short distance from the scene of the melee. They could offer no certain prognosis, for wounds inflicted by Ghouls were known to be deadly more often than not, and the cold sensation Dannadar now described was taken as a sign that the draining of his life force which such wounds tended to cause had already begun.
      All hope was not lost, however, as Raavan had some experience in treating such wounds. Indeed, they were very fortunate to have the wizard along, for his knowledge of the healing arts (including antidotes and herbal remedies, among other things) was quite extensive. Yet, they now had an even greater urgency to reach the grassy plains of Telesse, for few if any of the medicinal plants that were required for the lad’s treatment occurred within the Dark Forest, and their hope must therefore lie in obtaining them beyond its borders.
      For now, their immediate goal was to put more distance between themselves and the scene of the attack and then to find a sheltered and relatively defensible spot where a fire could be safely made. Nearly an hour they rode with Dannadar seated before Raavan on Windaris and Alatar leading the way with a torch before they found a suitable spot. Set back only a short distance from the cliff’s edge was an eastward facing cave. No beasts did they find inside and so this is where they made their camp for the night. Dannadar was laid with his left shoulder close to the fire and a watch was set at the mouth of the cave as Airi departed for his nightly hunt.
      Many miles had they travelled that day and hard had they fought against the Ghouls, so it is little wonder that all any of them wanted to do was sleep. After checking on Dannadar Talen lay back to gaze sleepily at the flickering light on the roof of the cave. It was pleasantly cool in that place, and a fresh breeze blew gently in from Malindor below.
      His eyelids began to feel very heavy; slowly they began to close as his weary mind inched closer to the realm of sleep. A moment more and he would be there, but first a movement caught his eye and then a dark shape crawled into his dwindling field of view. As his eyes closed the rest of the way his sleepy mind struggled with itself to force them open again for a final peek. He blinked, then blinked again, now several more times, and then his eyes were wide open and he was staring at a very strange looking beast—and one that was staring back at him.
      The creature had a large, decurved beak like a bird of prey, yet its reddish body was covered in scales like a reptile. Though it had large featherless wings and long limbs with strong feet that clung to cracks in the stone wall, its body was not large and it looked to weigh no more than would a large rabbit. What he found most alarming, however, was the number of such creatures that now appeared, for he could see that many others of its kind were creeping stealthily out from the shadows. They clung cleverly to the walls and roof of the cave, inching forward while they gazed intently at the companions below. When Talen finally had convinced himself that he was not in fact dreaming he let out a cry to raise the alarm.
      ‘Ai!’ cried the Elfling, and the others jumped up to see what was the matter. Some grabbed for their weapons while others only gazed about expectantly, but the noise of the cry and the sudden arousal of the company were just enough to send the winged creatures into a full panic. They began to fly agitatedly about the cave, emitting a most remarkable array of whines, screeches, and clicks as they did so.
      ‘Iliimps!’ cried Raavan when finally he had had a good look at one of the frantically fluttering creatures. ‘They are harmless. Let them be and hopefully they will leave us alone. They must have a roost in the back of this cave. Very likely they just want to pass by and go about their nightly business in the wood. Allow them to calm down and we will see what they do.’
      This they did, and soon enough some semblance of order returned to the cave. The companions were at first very apprehensive, but little by little they lowered their guard and returned to their bedrolls, even if several kept a sure grip on their weapons. For a while the two groups did nary but watch the other with unconcealed distrust. Soon however the Iliimps did indeed gather the courage to pass over the heads of the weary travellers and out into the night. Before too long none were left, and the companions excepting Burak who was on first watch went soundly to sleep.
      It seemed only moments later that Falco woke Talen for his turn at watch. The first thing he did was to look for signs of the little winged creatures, but he saw none. Drawing his sword he took his place in the shadows at the edge of the cave entrance. It was a black night, and a quiet one as well. As he strove to peer into the inky blackness of the surrounding night Talen’s mind wandered again to the Iliimps. He tried to imagine the strange creatures hunting among the dark trees of Druadaneth. Upon what manner of beast did they prey? he wondered. He half expected to hear some of them in the distance grappling on the forest floor with their quarry, yet as he listened he heard only the faint blowing of the westerly breeze.
      ‘O,’ he said to himself with a yawn, ‘I am so sleepy.’ It would not be the last time during that watch! He took to periodically slapping himself in the face to stay awake, till he began to fear that he might wake his companions with the noise. So then he took to rapping himself in the foot with a largish rock, but in time that lost its efficacy, and soon the rock lay still again on the ground.
      How long he had dozed off he was not sure, but he awoke to see a strangely familiar figure standing at the entrance to the cave and gazing thoughtfully at the sleeping companions. It was the goat-man of which he had dreamt soon after they had entered the forest. His horns appeared pointy as ever and he leant upon the same staff, scratching at his thick beard and occasionally flicking his tail. Presently he noticed that Talen was no longer asleep.
      ‘Hello,’ said the devilish creature with an evil grin.
      ‘Who are you?’ Talen demanded with raised sword, though he himself remained seated.
      ‘That is hardly important,’ replied the beast. Then looking again at the company asleep round the low-burning fire he said, ‘I see the young one is preparing to pass into the next world.’
      ‘The y-young wha—?’ stuttered Talen sleepily.
      ‘Your injured friend,’ continued the goat-man. ‘His passage into the land of the dead is nearing. See: even now the ghosts do their dance for him.’ With this the creature pointed toward the north, and when Talen gazed that way he thought he saw a tall obelisk encircled by ghastly phantoms flying erratically about, with ever a hideous, plaintive moan issuing forth from their direction.
      The half-man went on: ‘If you wish, I can speak with the King of Anûfyn on his behalf. I may be able to strike a bargain with him to secure the life of your suffering friend, but it would require something in exchange: a soul at least, perhaps two. Will you offer up your immortal soul that his young life might be spared?’
      ‘My soul?’ asked the bewildered Elfling.
      ‘Only your soul,’ replied the miscreant. ‘I can arrange that your days be spent as you wish, delighting in the pleasures of the sunlit world, but during the night you must wander the Dark Wood in spirit form, safe from all save The Hunter. It is a small price to pay for his life. Your sacrifice would be remembered for long years among the living. Come now, I will take you to the King of Anûfyn, that you might plead for your little brother’s life, and then we shall make the exchange, you and I.’
      All of this talk only succeeded in further bewildering the barely wakeful Elfling. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that something was terribly wrong with this scene, and in that small part of his conscious being he wished to rouse the rest of him to sound the alert, wake the others, and send this vulgar beast back into the night. Yet his gaze was glued to the other form, all his attention captured, and he was powerless to do anything but sit there in that helpless state.
      Presently he became aware of another figure moving about within the cave behind him. It approached casually and stood beside the Elfling to face the chimeric beast.
      ‘Is this nasty Satyr bothering you, Talen?’ asked the voice of Raavan. ‘Shame on him. He should know better than to disturb a sleepy Elfling.’ Then the wizard snapped his fingers and spoke firmly to the visitor: ‘Begone, rakehell! Or I shall turn you into one of the unfortunate beasts on which you prey. Now!’ With that the creature turned and ran off into the night. Talen gazed up at Raavan, feeling suddenly as if he had awoken from a lucid dream.
      ‘Go to bed now, lad,’ said the wizard. ‘I will take the next watch.’ With that, the Elfling lay down and went to sleep, and no more did he wake till morning, nor did he dream, for too tired was he even to do that.
       
       
      In the morning they wasted no time in preparing to complete their trek through the Dark Forest. Before getting underway Raavan checked on Dannadar’s wound to find that it was worsening steadily, his entire left arm now cold and lifeless. Though this was strong motivation to hasten their exodus from the wood, they travelled slowly in order to avoid causing undue discomfort to the Elfling as he rode before Raavan on Windaris.
      They stopped only briefly at midday to rest, though they could partake of no food or water, for there was none to be had. Alatar shared what remained of his store of the ethras root to quench their thirst. Soon the Tere began to progressively diminish as the land made its slow descent toward a rejoining with the plains of Malindor.
      In the afternoon the escarpment, now reduced to perhaps one third its previous size, turned sharply to the west and as they continued their descent toward the lower lands the company found themselves watching the westering sun as it knelt before them to touch the edge of the strange and gloomy forest they soon would leave behind. They were obviously very thankful to be escaping that cheerless place, for it had a chilling effect on their souls that all were eager to have lifted.
      As they stepped out from beneath the eaves of Druadaneth they looked back to see that a wind had stirred to blow the upper branches gently to and fro. The dark trees seemed to be solemnly waving to the departing company, waving good-bye and perhaps inviting them to come back another day. None waved back.