Chapter VI: No Turning Back

Fiera discovers the location of the Mystic Forest and sets off to uncover it.

            Thunder clapped overhead, sending a low rumble rippling through the ground and causing Fiera to jump in alarm before letting out a small sigh to calm herself and admonishing her childish, foolish ways. The truth was, she was frightened. She had spent the past year trying to find the Mystic Forest and all the clues had led her to this tiny human settlement. Fiera greatly mistrusted humans. The creatures had brutalized her and murdered Zanzibar. For all their intelligence, they acted no better than a pack of wild wolves. After all, what kind of race waged war on their own kind? It was incomprehensible to Fiera.

            Sighing and hoisting her travel pack higher on her shoulder, she trudged onwards through the torrential rain, the heavy droplets plastering her silver hair to her long narrow face. Coming onto the single dirt path which consisted of the entire village, Fiera spotted one building slightly larger than the others with candlelight glowing through the windows. It looked like nothing more than a slightly oversized wooden shack and perhaps a half a dozen voices or so were wafting through the slightly ajar door. Here we go... Fiera thought to herself as she strode up to the entrance and walked inside.

            It became clear that this run-down building was a pub from one glance around the shabby place. There were a few round wooden tables scattered around the cramped middle area with four rickety chairs to each table. At the back, there was a small wooden counter with a barman who looked close to the end of his days, rubbing a grimy glass with a dirty rag. At the sight of this strange elven woman stepping into the pub, seven pairs of eyes directed themselves towards her immediately.

            Catching her breath at the shocking reek of ale and sweat assaulting her nostrils, Fiera cleared her throat and spoke. "I'm looking for information on the Mystic Forest. I've been told I'll be able to find my answers here," she announced bluntly. Six of the seven men in the vicinity stared, shocked for a moment, then roared with laughter, their drunken states enhancing their rowdiness.

            "The wench is crazy!" one man said.

            "I always said elves 'ave got their heads in the clouds!" another roared.

            "Hey, darlin'! Come 'ere an' show us old men a good time then, eh?" a third drunk called out to her.

            Fiera immediately reached for her spear. She would show these humans who was stronger and who held the power now. The barman, who had remained silent throughout all of the commotion, suddenly slammed his fist down onto the oily counter, silencing the drunkards. "Alright, that's enough o' that! You bums just go back to yer drinkin'!" he yelled in a stronger voice than he appeared capable of. As Fiera nodded her thanks curtly, he beckoned her to the counter and Fiera cautiously walked forward, her hand still resting on her spear, ready to pull it out in a single second should the smallest hint of danger surface. With a furtive look, he leaned closer to her and whispered hastily. "How do ya know 'bout the Mystic Forest?" he demanded, eyeing her suspiciously.

            "I have my sources," Fiera replied coldly, her steely grey eyes seeming to lower the temperature in the room. She wasn't about to divulge her life story to this untrustworthy human. The barman huffed, seemingly unimpressed by her response. He chewed his lower lip for a moment before nodding as if he had just assured himself of something and motioned for her to sit with him behind the counter. He gave her a penetrating stare before speaking.

            "What's yer name?" he asked.

            "Fiera," she answered. That much at least, was safe to reveal.

            "Hmm... I'm Gaunt, just so ya know. Now, Fiera, why are ya lookin' fer the Mystic Forest?" he asked. Fiera herself wasn't quite sure of the answer, other than an impulsive promise she had made out of grief. She came up with the closest thing to the truth she could think of.

            "I have heard tales of its existence. I am curious as to whether they are true or not," she said simply, her piercing grey eyes giving away absolutely nothing. Gaunt's thick bushy eyebrows knit together in suspicion, but his eyes looked almost glorious. Breaking out in a gummy, toothless smile, he leaned closer to her and replied in a hushed whisper.

            "There is a legend associated with the Mystic Forest. The legend goes that the Forest is in terrible peril and that a hero, a valiant warrior, is destined to appear an' save the Forest in its darkest hour," he told her in a barely audible voice; however, something didn't seem quite right to Fiera.

            "How do you know so much about the Mystic Forest?" she asked coldly. "It is supposedly an old wise tale, nothing more," Gaunt chuckled with a knowing grin and leaned back in his seat, chewing the inside of his cheek with a sickening squelching sound, making Fiera's stomach clench in disgust. Humans truly were vile creatures.

            "A wise tale, eh? Well Fiera, what if I told ya that the Mystic Forest wasn't no wise tale?" This of course, Fiera already knew but she feigned amusement all the same.

            "I'm intrigued. Go on," she said with a faint grin. Mistaking her grin for interest rather than hidden knowledge, Gaunt continued.

            "This here town lies jus' outside o' the Mystic Forest's magickal bound'ries," he revealed, truly enjoying having the undivided attention of a beautiful elven woman for so long. "The stories o' the Mystic Forest bein' under attack by dragons is true. The dragons are slowly destroyin' everythin' and the Forest is in a dire situation. The legend also tells of a destined hero who is meant to lead the Forest to victory and restore it to its former glory. A hero hand-chosen by the Lady Herself," he finished. Fiera had known about the legends of a losing war between the Forest and dragons, but the story of a chosen hero sent by the Goddess of all life and existence was new to her. After some thought, she could only come up with a single question.

            "Why are you telling me all of this? If the Forest is so well protected from outsiders, surely its existence is meant to stay a secret? Why would you reveal the secrets of this guarded Forest to a stranger such as myself?" she asked. For the first time since Fiera had begun talking with this elderly human, Gaunt gave a genuinely kind smile that defied Fiera's previous notions of humans and confused her.

            "Because," he said bluntly. "I believe yer the chosen hero the legends speak of." Fiera bit her lower lip hard to stop herself from succumbing to a fit of laughter. This crazy old coot didn't have a clue what he was saying. They were the utter mad ramblings of an elderly man with an overactive imagination. After she had composed herself, Fiera stood up and nodded curtly.

            "I think you're senile and a bit cracked, but thank you for your information," she told him, turning to leave the stinking, dirty pub. Gaunt's face displayed a look of panic as he hurriedly jumped up, shaking his head frantically, blocking her exit.

            "No! Please! This town was formed from the humans who chose to flee from the Forest to protect their fam'lies from the dragons! My great-great grandfather was among the firs' gen'ration to leave. It has been my pers'nal fantasy to return to the home of my ancest'rs, and yer the Blessed Lady's sign! Yer the miracle we have been waitin' fer! Follow the path into the woods behind this very pub an' I am certain the Lady will give you Her sign." Thoroughly annoyed, Fiera used her superior elf's strength to push Gaunt out of her way and leave, ignoring the catcalls and vulgar requests of the drunken men around her, without even taking a glance behind her at Gaunt.

            Well, she had found out what she needed to know. Despite the old man's craziness, he had told her the location of the Mystic Forest, which is exactly what she had wanted for so long. Here we are, Zanzibar. There's no turning back now... she thought. Somehow, as Fiera pushed her way through the dark and overgrown path and the downpour soaked through her clothes, chilling her bones, she knew he had heard her and was proud of her, wherever his spirit roamed.