Chapter 6

     The next morning came all too soon. The nervous excitement of the previous day led to a restless night and debilitating fatigue. Tarkin had taken over guard duty from Jess much earlier than expected. He wanted to think. Jess was the only other member of the party to show life. The others slept, unwilling to face the morning. The fire was out. The morning air was chill and the sleepers had pulled their blankets tightly around their necks, huddling deeply in their covers. Jess slowly pulled himself from his bed, yawned, stretched, and finally stood. He walked to the fire and gestured to Tarkin who nodded. Jess began stirring ashes, looking for the remains of live coals. Finding none, he started building a new fire, making a small tent of dry kindling over the pile of wood shavings made with his knife.

     Tarkin and Jess shared conversation and several cups of hot elvish “Road-Tea” made from leaves gathered last night by the Mal-tokii. That ancient brew, made from Gor'Ta leaves, was an especially potent stimulant, requiring great care in its preparation. Having dispersed the morning drowsiness, it was time to wake the others. Tarkin went over to the two strangers, rousing them with his foot. “Get up you two, the day's wasting. It's time to go.”

     Fakir rose instantly. Not needing to dress, he began rolling his bedding. By the time Seth began to stir, Fakir was packed and had joined the others at the fire. The Mal-tokii warriors needed prodding to get up, but somehow Tarkin managed. They unhurriedly joined the others at the fire, bringing wine to mix with the morning beverage. Pilar arrived shortly after Seth joined the group. She was a slow riser, but once risen, energetic. She now dominated the conversation with her anxious enthusiasm. The two Mal-tokii sat by themselves scowling whenever Seth or Fakir passed nearby.

     “Well,” said Pilar, “Let's get going.” She stood from the fire and pushed away the remnants of the dried meat and fruit she had been eating. She was worried about the forest ahead and quickly raised her goblet, downing the rest of the Gor'Ta tea. Jess gathered the remaining portions of the morning meal and buried them deeply in a sack that he threw into the back of the wagon. He paused momentarily to pat the wagon horse on the head before returning to gather his possessions

     The travelers quickly rode from the campsite. Pilar and Tarkin led the group followed by Jess, Seth, and Fakir. Finally came the Mal-tokii warriors in the provisions wagon, pulling their two horses and Seth's packhorse. Within the hour, the company neared the dead forest. As they approached, the countryside changed remarkably. The abundant wildlife was gone, and the very plants and grass shrunk away from the forest, straining at their roots, leaning away as far as possible.

     “This is very strange,” Pilar remarked in a foreboding manner. She had a worried look on her face and she adjusted her sword, loosing the strap that held it fixed to her horse.

     “I don't like this,” stated Tarkin.  The Morg-arn, too, was worried. He didn’t know why, but he feared the forest.

     “It's the remaining evil,” offered Seth. “The plants reject the evil this place represents.”

     “It's strange,” added Jess, “but I think I can feel it too.”

     “We all feel it,” agreed Fakir.

     Conversation ceased. Ahead the road turned into the forest and disappeared into a low-hanging mist that began to engulf the company, advancing slowly as if guided by some malevolent force. The Mal-tokii warriors fidgeted in their saddles. The travelers advanced, accompanied by the steady plodding of the horses' hooves and the sound of small stones being scattered by the wooden wheels.

     “Seth, what should we expect ahead?” asked Tarkin.

     “Only death,” responded Seth. “The remains of a miserable dead, frozen forever in cold unbending stone.” He paused. “I've never seen it myself, but my Master told me stories. He was never able to talk about it without difficulty.”

     “Enough talk,” complained Pilar. “Let's move on.”  She didn’t like the effect that Seth’s talk was having on the party. Whatever was ahead they would face it. They didn’t need premature fear affecting their thinking.

     As they entered the forest the mist thickened. The wet air moistened everything. Near the road the vaguely manlike shapes of the twisted, tortured trees strained toward the sky. Mournful stone limbs thrust sharply upward as if pleading for redemption.

     The party rode on silently for nearly a half hour, sinking into deep depression. The pain of the forest dominated them, demanding that something be done to redress the wrong, to ease the torment of a battle long past. Everyone grew increasingly edgy. Jess seemed especially affected. He grew increasingly nervous. His eyes flitted from one side of the road to the other. The trees! The trees suffered!

     “Wait,” called Jess. “I must see this. I don’t know how or why…but I've got to do something. I've got to help them!” Jess was almost choked with emotion. The suffering trees caused his mind to flash back to his own torturous pain and loss. The cruel Acrontii had slit the throat of his young son as Jess watched, and impaled him and his wife, naked on long pikes, leaving them to die a slow and miserable death in the northern snows. He often regretted being saved by Fol-bear. Being impotent to save his family, he should have died with them.

     Jess slipped from his horse. Everyone watched. Jess walked from the road into the trees, determination in his eyes. Cautiously, Jess extended his hand, gingerly caressing a low tree limb. The tree was cold and wet with condensation. His hand contracted sharply. A shudder coursed through his body. The pain and suffering of a thousand unredressed wrongs flooded his heart and soul, amplified by the griefs of his own losses. A low moan started deep in his throat. The moan grew and erupted in a wail of anguish. Jess gnashed his teeth. His howling grew louder, changing pitch, and his body began to quake violently.

     The scene affected everyone, seeming to pierce deeply into their spirits, reaching unfathomable depths, bringing up and amplifying the horrible injustices and losses suffered by each member of the party. The entire party began to shake in empathy with Jess' suffering. Tears welled in their eyes. The Mal-tokii were instantly at Jess' side.

     “My god!” cried Pilar, and began to weep uncontrollably. Now she saw again the days of her youth. Her mother! The horror! Pilar’s mind flew back to the midnight attack of the Acrontii. They had caught Fol-bear and his party unaware and had entered their camp slashing and burning. Pilar’s mother was defenseless, rising half naked from sleep, wrapped loosely in her undergarments and a leather blanket. Fol-bear, somewhere in the midst of battle, was nowhere to be seen. Acrontii soldiers entered the tent housing Nomi-tar and the young Pilar. Nomi-tar was knocked down. Struggling to protect her child, an Acrontii warrior brought down a vertical axe stroke, opening the woman from chest to stomach. Life blood pumped from the wound as Pilar watched. This vision bursting upon her, Pilar screamed and fell into a horrible, uncontrollable wave of tears, amplified by the evil and unimaginable suffering of the forest.

     Tarkin shook in his saddle, rocking front to back, tears streaming. The injustice! The shame! The mistreatment of his family! A screaming wail of half rage, half grief erupted from the Marg-arn’s. He must do something. He must right these wrongs and those inflicted on Gosser’s tortured armies. Tarkin’s hand shook as he tried to draw his sword, but it was no use. His arms and body were useless. His father! His grandfather! Nothing could be done to right the injustice. All that could be done was to quake with despair.

     Fakir and Seth dismounted. Fakir leaned helplessly against his horse whimpering. Seth stood looking at Jess, tears running from his face. Seth’s father! His Master! The horrible crime of this forest! All was lost. Against such evil nothing could be done. Hope was unreasonable. All that was left was ungodly suffering and pain, emptiness of spirit and blackness of heart. All the pains of the suffering dead swept into his body. Waves and waves of grief washed over him and he cried nearly choking for breath.

     The Mal-tokii, too, were shaken and confused. Bal'ma-ki had his sword in hand. His eyes searched for something to do, something to attack. The wrongs! He must find the evil. He must kill it if it cost him his soul! Now he saw it—the Morg-arn armies. They marched with Sausorous! The betrayal! The horror! How could his people be involved in such evil, forgetting their honor? Screaming in pain, the Morg-arn warrior turned, and finding no enemy to fight, jumped on Jess, pinning him to the ground. Bal'ma-ki began to weep uncontrollably.

     After several minutes Jess regained some composure. “My god,” he squeaked between tears and heaving, “do you feel?”

     The others had more fully recovered than Jess and now surrounded his body on the barren black ground. “No,” answered Seth. “It was you that affected us. I've never felt anything like that before.”

     “My god, the pain!” cried Jess again. He now wept deeply but calmly. The deep bodily shaking was gone. Suddenly Jess became more agitated. “My god, I can't stand it! My wife! My child! The Trees! …I have to do something! Anything!” he screamed. Jess jumped up from the ground and ran to the tree, leaping into the branches, clutching the trunk desperately, struggling to wrestle the very aguish from the stone. Immediately he began shaking and a deep wailing lament coursed through his body.

     Bal'ma-ki reacted instantly, clutching at Jess. But Jess' determination surpassed the Morg-arn's efforts to pull him from the tree.

     “No!” shrieked Seth, and leaped at Bal'ma-ki. Before Seth reached him, violent spasms engulfed the warrior. Bal'ma-ki's tormented scream joined Jess'. Seth's body impacted Bal'ma-ki, knocking him clear of Jess and the tree. Seth rolled several feet and regained control, turning to see the effects of his actions. Bal'ma-ki sat upright on the ground, shaking but silent. Suddenly he turned to look at Seth behind him. Now he realized. His intimate contact with the forest had  provided penetrating insight.

     “Thank you!” spoke Bal’ma-ki. “I doubt you no more. You spoke true. The Morg-arn did serve an evil Master in this war.” He looked toward Softol'dor, staring long at him. Jess continued his wretched palpitations and heart-rending wails.

     “By the gods, do something,” insisted Pilar and began to softly cry, her own injuries and those of the forest again blackening her soul. Jess' lament began to affect everyone as before. Tarkin, too, was beginning to rock back and forth in his saddle.

     “I'll get some rope,” said Fakir, and ran to his horse.

     Using the rope, Softol'dor and Fakir helped haul Jess from the tree, foiling his further attempts to crawl back to the forest. Soon Jess collapsed. Merciful sleep cradled his body. His easy breathing reassured the company that the worst was over.

          ****               ****

     Everyone was quiet around the campfire that night. Blank face gazed upon blank face. Everyone was exhausted and robbed of enthusiasm. The forest was oppressive. Each person was trying to deal with his newfound weakness. Jess slept. No one was willing to wake him. They were afraid of what he might do. Besides, he needed his sleep.

     After the episode with Jess, they had agreed to push on into the forest several more hours. They wanted to pass through the forest as soon as possible and only stopped when they no longer dared to force the horses. The forest sapped the horse’s strength, too. Since entering the forest, the horses seemed continually skittish.

     “Hello there friends!”

     The entire company turned at once. The appearance of the large, heavyset man at the edge of the firelight caused life's blood to flood back into the party. Tarkin reached for his axe. Jess stood. The Mal-tokii jumped to their feet, weapons drawn. Pilar started to rise, pulling a knife from her belt, and Seth readjusted his posture, hands poised on his knees. Fakir was nowhere to be seen.

     “Peace, friends,” continued the big man.

     The group carefully studied him. He was very large. He wore a soft leather jerkin and pliable leather skirt over green leggings. His black hair was short and crowned with a brown leather cap decorated with a short wide red feather. At his side he wore a short sword and leaned upon a heavy wooden staff as he spoke. “My name is Aaron of Sorvin-ville,” he said. “I came to investigate your fire. You must be new to these parts or you wouldn't so brazenly light a fire. Don't you know the dangers?”

     The party was still disoriented. Finally Pilar spoke. “No, what dangers?”

     “Well,” continued the man, “then my suspicions are correct, you are strangers.”

     “That's right,” said Jess.

     “You'd best beware,” the man responded, “bands of Falen wander these parts, and I've never known them to treat strangers kindly.”

     “Who are these Falen,” asked Tarkin.

     “A vile breed,” answered the man. “They're bent on destruction. Made especially for that purpose, they were!”

     “What do you mean?” asked Jess.

     “Count yourselves lucky,” said Aaron. “You come from parts untroubled by such griefs. Do you not know of Sausorous?”

     Seth's ears perked, but he didn’t speak.

     “We've heard tales,” replied Tarkin. “How does he enter into this?”

     “He? Why he enters into everything! It was he who created the Falen.”

     “Created?” asked Pilar.

     “Yes,” said Aaron, “horrible creatures! With vile magic, he created them to be vicious and strong. Of the blood of wolves and Morg-arn he created them, to hate elves, dwarves, and men, and to lead his armies of Morg-arn slaves.” The mention of Morg-arn armies immediately drew the increased attention of the Mal-tokii, who now surrounded Aaron.

     “We suspected this,” exclaimed Bal'ma-ki. “Domination of our people. Forced participation in an evil purpose.” The Mal-tokii's eyes burned flame red with rage, blazing coals in pallid gray sockets. Bal’ma-ki could scarcely believe the Morg-arn had willingly followed an evil Lord. This was the explanation his heart yearned to hear. His people were unwilling participants. They were forced in some way against their will.

     “You speak true!” said Aaron. “The Morg-arn fight valiantly, but always against their wishes. We're fortunate to meet before you see this pitiful domination. I've something to protect you...”

     Suddenly Fakir entered the ring of light from behind a bush. He gestured strangely to Seth who seemed to momentarily swoon. “No!” Seth cried, quickly rising from his seat. He rushed toward Aaron, who turned from looking at Fakir to see Seth running towards him. The Mal-tokii turned too, with looks of surprise on their faces as they watched Seth approach. Seth burst through the Mal-tokii on his way to Aaron.

     “What's the matter?” Aaron yelled. “Someone help me!” Aaron raised his arms to block whatever Seth intended. Seth's body rigidly jerked and stopped dead in its tracks.

     “What's going on?” Seth asked. Then in a strange voice Seth continued. “Cursed Aaron! Long have I searched for you! You'll not escape the revenge of Sausorous this time.” Seth's body rigidly advanced toward Aaron, whose face was aghast with horror. Blindly and violently Aaron struck out at Seth, knocking his stiffly moving figure to the ground. The rest of the party stared on in disbelief and then gathered around Seth's unconscious body not knowing what had happened or what to do. Finally, Pilar put her hand behind Seth's neck, carefully lifting his head.

     “Seth, what's wrong?” Seth didn't stir.

     “Look!” said Tarkin. “Fakir collapsed too!” Everyone looked across the fire to where Fakir had entered the camp. There lay the unconscious dwarf breathing shallowly.

     “Cursed forest!” cried Aaron, rising his fist to the sky and shaking it. “And cursed Sausorous!” Aaron looked down. “This is his doing. Sausorous discovered my presence and struck out at me through your friends.” Aaron paused looking at Seth. “Your friend is strong,” he said, “otherwise the simple blow I delivered would not have been sufficient to drive the wizard from his body.” Aaron looked at Pilar, then at Tarkin. “We must move from this spot, and quickly. He knows we're here and will send his Falen to finish us!” The travelers just looked at each other. What had they gotten themselves into? After the events of this morning this was too much! They must be dreaming. This was a nightmare.

     Camp was broken quickly and the wagon hurriedly packed. Aaron seemed to take charge easily. He seemed to be accustomed to giving orders and was knowledgeable about Sausorous’ methods. “We must move as far a possible from this place. Sausorous’ magic has focused here and can do so again easily. We must move. It might throw him off our trail.”

     When the party stopped, Aaron advised strongly against lighting a fire. “That would be crazy and inviting danger,” he insisted. Seth and Fakir remained unconscious despite Pilar's best attempts to rouse them. After Aaron carefully examined Seth and Fakir, he told Pilar that such sleep was common with mental attacks and that they would rouse in the morning. When the party had unpacked, Aaron called the two Mal-tokii to his side.

     “I fear there's no time for delay, I have protection for you!”

     “What sort of protection?” asked Softol'dor.

     “And protection from what?” asked Bal'ma-ki.

     “You saw what happened to Seth,” replied Aaron. “Sausorous is powerful. He makes slaves of people, especially those of the Morg-arn race. I'm surprised he didn't try to possess you. His particular type of hold is more powerful over Morg-arn than over the other races. We were lucky he didn't notice you. He must have been too preoccupied with destroying me.”

     “What of Tarkin?” asked Bal'ma-ki. “He needs protection too.”

     “Fortunately,” continued Aaron, “Tarkin is half human. His human side makes him unsuitable for Sausorous’ purposes. But you two...well.” Softol'dor and Bal'ma-ki immediately caught the drift. They were potential recruits for Sausorous’ slave armies. They looked at each other, then back toward Aaron. “Fortunately,” said Aaron, “no one's perfect, not even Sausorous. In fact he was a bit careless.” He paused, turning to look at the others seated around the fire. “He made a mistake, you see. I learned from an old magician that the Morg-arn race is not easily possessed. Precautions can be made to make possession of a Morg-arn nearly impossible. In fact, it is possible to give a Morg-arn power over anyone trying to possess him.” He paused, reaching into his pockets. “Look at these,” he said, opening  his hand to expose two gold rings. “Magic!” he continued. “Magic rings! This is the method the old sage advised me of. He made these himself. These rings protect the wearer and give him power over his would-be possessor.” He held out his hand. “Let me give them to you.” Softol'dor and Bal'ma-ki were nearly speechless. “Go on,” insisted Aaron. “They're of no real use to me. Most people in these parts are afraid of magic—Sausorous, you know. I've tried to sell them many times. No one will take them. At least they might do you some good.”

     The Morg-arn were uncertain. Finally Softol'dor gingerly took a ring from Aaron's outstretched hand. Bal'ma-ki took one too, but swiftly put it in his pocket. Softol'dor stood to the side fondling his new prize, turning it repeatedly over in his hand. Finally, he also put it in his pocket. “Thank you,” said Bal'ma-ki. “Your gift is most generous. What can we do for you?”

     “You do enough to keep me company in this damn forest. You do enough to keep yourselves out of Sausorous’ armies. I’ve done nothing more than anyone would have done. You owe me no thanks.”

     “Well thank you anyway,” returned Bal'ma-ki. “If there’s anyway to repay you, just let us know!”

     “Yes, thank you,” agreed Softol'dor. “We are greatly in your debt.”

     Bal'ma-ki and Softol'dor turned and rejoined the others. The company now began to settle down for the night. Tarkin insisted that guards be placed. He didn't want other unexpected company, especially Falen, to wander into camp unannounced.

Reviews

[James Watts]

After reading all six chapters, I do hope there is more. The one thing I noticed overall was a lot of the -ly adverb. Sometimes they cannot be avoided, but for the most part they can. The prose just reads stronger without them. And we all use them, I do too. What I like to do after finishing a piece is to weed out all the -ly's that I can, not all of them will go as sometimes they are essential. Overall, I have truly enjoyed reading this. Let me know when you have posted more, as this seems like a rather large tale.