Black Kerthon's Doom, page 11
"Sorry old friend. I'll avenge you somehow." Serada took one last look at Macelan and ran after Daura, wiping the tears from his eyes as he ran. "Somehow, I will make your death mean something. Somehow."
It was dark when Macelan regain consciousness. He was groggy and looked for Daura. She was not there. No one was there. He was alone.
Suddenly, the realization that he had been left hit him and he was angry. He tried to stand and the pain in his ankle sent him to the ground again. He knew then he wouldn't have been able to keep up with them. It was a cold decision by Gareth, he thought, but a correct one for the rebellion. He was glad his friends were on their way to safety. He stood on one leg and stretched his limbs. His neck was stiff but it always was with a hangover that was how he felt now. He found a broken branch and trimmed it for a walking stick. It was extremely painful to put weight on his ankle but at least he could walk.
A chill raced through his body and he remembered the Amogrihens. He almost wished they had found him before he had awakened. But with his luck they would have woke him up to kill him.
He felt their presence. A chill on his neck, a sense of panic rising but he resisted the urge to scream, barely. They were closing in on him. He walked west to lead them away from Gareth and the rebels. He found new strength from fear and thundered through the trees. He heard their cries, they had spotted him, their caution was cast aside, and he could hear them behind him. By their sound, they were much larger than he anticipated. Much larger than a man. He tried to run and gritted his teeth until his lungs burned and then he was at the cliff. His ankle throbbed so much he thought he would pass out. He paused and turned around. He wanted to see an Amogrihen before he jumped. He wanted to know what type of creature would force him to kill himself. The wait was short.
Two tall feline figures stepped out of the trees. Their legs were long and their feet large and wide. Their dark grey fur was thick and long. It was the faces that drew the blood from Macelan's face. Teeth. All he could see were teeth. Their mouths opened and he could not see the rest of the face. They seemed to sense that he was trapped. He could see their long fangs glisten in the dark and their cat eyes were large and saw into shadows, there was nowhere to hide. They crept closer.
He caught movement to his right and the Amogrihens did too. One moved off to investigate. The other came forward. Macelan stepped back. His foot was on the edge of the cliff. All he had to do was lean back and he would be safe from the Amogrihens. Yet, the desire to live was strong in him and he did not move. The Amogrihen was less than ten feet away. Macelan could feel the hot breath and its dank smell turned his stomach.
A sudden cry pierced the air. It was the other Amogrihen. But the sound was not like the scream when they found prey. It was something else. The Amogrihen backed away from Macelan and glared in the direction its mate had gone. There was no more sound, but a dark shape moved quickly from tree to tree. The Amogrihen was intrigued and turned from Macelan and crept toward the trees. It disappeared in the darkness. Macelan heard another cry from the Amogrihen, perhaps of terror he hoped. But only briefly. He could not imagine what could bring terror to an Amogrihen but he did not want to find out. He limped along the cliff to try to skirt around whatever it was in the trees. He neglected speed for stealth and did not hear anything. He began to breathe easier when he felt the caress of a breeze. It grew quickly and he remembered the magical breeze at the tower. He felt the watchfulness of the darkness. He stopped and listened but there were no voices. He strained his eyes to find some shape in the darkness but to no avail. Then the wind began to speak to him and the voices babbled many words, rose, and dropped in volume until a large shadow detached itself from the trees and stood before him and the voices in the wind cried in unison, "Kerthon".
Chapter 8
They heard the strange cries of the Amogrihens faintly echo through the treetops. One cry rose in pitch and almost seemed to be words but the rhythm was uneven. It trailed off and disappeared.
"I never heard that cry before," said Brice.
"I have once," said Gareth, his thoughts far away. "It's the death cry of an Amogrihen."
"Is Macelan dead?" asked Daura. Her voice was barely audible.
"I don't see how he could have survived," answered Mira.
"But the Amogrihens will no longer chase us," said Gareth. "Those were cries of two different creatures. I heard that cry years ago when Horeth and I trapped one and killed it. We had been hunting and were separated. I walked down a ravine, while Horeth walked the crest. An Amogrihen found Horeth's trail and gave chase. Horeth took refuge in a small cave and the Amogrihen became stuck as it tried to force its way in. Just at that time, I had caught up with Horeth and the Amogrihen and it was caught between us. It wasn't easy but our spears and swords proved to be enough. I will never forget the sound of its cries."
"The Amogrihens are dead?" asked Serada. "What killed them? The soldiers would have shouted in victory if they had killed it but I didn't think they would destroy their own servants."
"They wouldn't," said Mira.
"Then what?" asked Serada.
"There's no telling," said Gareth. "Macelan may be alive or he may not. We cannot go back and find out. There may be more Amogrihens released when they find the first ones dead. We must go on to Rhath. It may be whatever killed them might wish to do the same to us. If it was powerful enough to kill all the Amogrihens then we do not want to face it. Let us leave the soldiers to deal with it. Come on."
They crossed back to the west side of the river and rested in the moonlight. Their clothes were soaked and the night air chilled them. Serada stared out into the sky and wondered at the fate ahead of him.
"What are you thinking?" asked Daura.
"Just wondering how I got here and where I go from here. It started out as a hike to visit Macelan's cousin. My world has been turned upside down in just a few weeks. Right now, I'm picturing my home in my mind. It's on the coast. The waves roll and break and the foam washes up on the beach. Macelan loved to sit and watch the ocean. He'd be up early every morning and sit on the beach. He never wanted to do anything else it seemed. He must have enjoyed it immensely to overcome the ridicule he received for it."
"Ridicule?"
"He didn't have a job and didn't seem to care. I didn't have a job either, but I tried to get one."
"You have a job now," said Daura.
"Perhaps. At least the fishing boats offered more safety."
"But aren't you exhilarated by the world around you? Living under the open sky and risking your life for your future?" asked Mira, who had been listening. "Does Dale offer this kind of excitement?"
"No. But I wasn't aware it existed and I'm not sure I wasn't happier before."
"Let's go," said Gareth. "Plenty of time to talk later."
At dawn, they broke camp, walked without a break until nightfall, and spent a restless night listening for the cries in the night that never sounded. By the afternoon of the next day, they saw campfires a mile or two south of them.
"Soldiers!" said Mira.
"They know they didn't catch the big prize," said Serada. "Where to now?"
"Let's give them something to remember," said Gareth. His face was grim and he unsheathed his sword.
"But they don't know we're here," protested Daura. "We can get away without them following. I don't think I can run any farther."
"I must avenge my soldiers."
"There might be more Amogrihens," cautioned Mira. "We would be lost. The rebellion would be crushed, if it isn't already."
Gareth looked at Mira suddenly, his eyes wide with rage. He did not move but his hands opened and closed and finally he sighed.
"You are right. It would be foolish to attack such numbers. You people deserve a better fate than that. And perhaps a better leader."
"Shush," said Daura, gently. "You are tired and depressed; we all are. We must find a secure place to rest. You will feel much better afterward."
"Where can we rest? There will be scouts looking for any sign of us."
"The river to the west, the Calendian army to the south," said Mira.
"And more soldiers from the north," said Brice.
They all turned to see a short column coming down the hills on their trail. The river was too wide to cross without rafts and there was no time to build them.
"We can only go east," said Mira.
"There are no trails in that forest," said Brice. "We will have to make our own."
"I'll take the lead going in," said Gareth. "Brice, you and Serada cover our tracks. They must not know where we left the trail."
The group quickly fought their way into the undergrowth. They moved slowly and with much noise. Serada and Brice soon joined them.
"Quiet!" whispered Brice. "They are near enough to hear. We must wait until they are past."
They crouched down and waited. The heavy tread of the soldiers was steady and quick. The sounds kept getting louder and Serada knew they were too close. Each time he thought they couldn't approach any closer the soldiers kept coming. Serada was unable to control himself. He tried to lift his head to look over the underbrush but Brice stopped him with a strong hand. Serada looked at Brice, saw the anger in his face, and realized he had almost given their position away.
The voices could be heard but not clearly and they stopped when the campfires of the main camp were seen.
"Where could they have gone?" asked one. "They would not have run into the main camp."
"They changed their course somewhere."
"Could they have seen the camp earlier than this point?"
"I don't think so," replied the first.
"Then they left the trail somewhere beyond this point."
The soldiers fanned out in all directions. Some reached the riverbank and searched along it, others checked the edge of the forest, where others moved farther down the trail and did the same.
Gareth and the others used the noise to cover their movements and crept deeper into the woods. They moved slowly in the attempt to move silently and were another hundred yards deeper when the soldiers found their trail
. "They passed here!"
The sounds of the soldiers rushing through the trees were loud and the snapping twigs and small branches echoed under the thick leafy branches. It sounded like the woods were full of hundreds of soldiers. The rebels moved faster and headed north again to remove themselves from the path of the soldiers' search. The trees thinned out and the rebels found themselves on some sort of deer path except it was much wider and heavily used. The bushes and trees did not hang over the trail and appeared as if they had been trimmed right up to the sky.
"Gareth," said Brice. "I do not like the looks of that path. It appears to have been tended."
"We've no choice. We must put miles between the Calendian army and us. There's no other way to move quickly in this accursed wood."
Gareth led them, he did not heed Brice's warning, and they ran and ran and ran until darkness fell again. They stopped for the night. Brice looked off into the darkness and muttered to himself.
"I do not hear pursuit," said Serada.
"Nor are you likely to," said Brice.
"What do you mean?" asked Gareth.
"You were correct when you said 'accursed wood'. This part is Neheva's Wood. I didn't realize it until now. But that's what the path meant; that we were entering her wood."
"The Witch?" asked Daura. "Gareth, you always told me she didn't exist."
"That was when we were children," said Gareth. "You were frightened by father's stories. It wasn't until I met Brice that I found out the stories had been true."
"But wouldn't she have died by now?" asked Mira.
"If she can die," added Brice.
"Did she have a special place where she lived? A house or cave or something?"
"I think so. But she wandered far during the blackness of night. And unwary travelers were never seen again."
"What do you know about the witch?" asked Serada.
"Too much," said Brice. "There was a man from our town who had been ensnared in these woods. When he returned he was as white as snow and would rant about the beautiful Neheva and how he would return to her. He had been a sane man before and it was thought that he had a fever. But his health was good and his ranting carried on for a month before the elders finally took him to Neheva's wood to prove that she did not exist. When they returned two of the five who escorted the man were as crazy as he had been and he had returned to sanity. One of the others died when the witch appeared although no one knew how it happened. The other two were witnesses to the entire drama. These woods were shunned ever since. The witch was real in our eyes."
"Thanks," said Serada, rolling his eyes. "I'll sleep easy tonight."
"Should we have our weapons ready?" asked Mira.
"Not against the witch," said Brice. "It would be of no use and might only anger her."
They settled down to sleep; Brice would take the first watch. The night wasn't cold and Gareth was glad not to risk a fire with the soldiers around. Brice was happy about it too, but for a different reason.
Serada would have the third watch and he eagerly lay down to sleep. At first, his body ached too much to relax and he tried counting backward, sheep, and anything that came to mind. Finally, he was able to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Then he was awakened by Mira's nudge. It was his watch already.
The night passed slowly for Serada on his watch. The forest was eerie with the greenish moonlight casting long shadows upon the sleepers. The trees were tall and close together, reaching out to each other, making the forest difficult to travel through. It was difficult to see very far beyond the path and the shadows seemed to sway although there was no wind. Mists rose several yards from the camp surrounding them, chilling them. He felt he was being watched and he was constantly turning around to look in each direction. Everything moved yet nothing did. He was nervous at the silence and jumped when he heard the singing.
It was slow and melodious and the range was beyond human ability. The voice was female. It was a cheery voice and made Serada smile. The song was a silly song and he couldn't catch all the words. He saw the dark shape of the singer appear from behind a tree. The shape was slender, black, and lacking details. He did not know what it was, but it had to be Neheva. He walked toward her as she sung and he tripped over Brice who was on his feet in a moment, sword in hand. He whistled and the entire camp awoke.
"Who are you?" asked Gareth. The singing stopped. It was very still in the woods. They stood in a half circle around the witch.
"Who are you?" he asked again. "Are you Neheva?"
"Who speaks my name?" The voice was small and gentle. Perhaps a young girl. "Why are you in my woods?" The voice was harsher now.
"We flee the soldiers. We seek safety."
"What is that to me?" The voice was cold. "Go, leave me in peace. I have no need of company."
"Can we just stay until sunrise? I promise we will leave then."
"You promise? Is it a promise you can keep? Do you speak for all your friends, Gareth?"
"I do. How do you know my name?"
"I am Neheva. Your thoughts are open to me." She came forward.
She appeared younger than Daura and her skin was pale white and her hair black as night. Her eyes were dark and her nose long and narrow. Neheva looked at each member closely, ignoring the warding signs made by some and the blush of others. Each person reacted in some small way to her gaze. She beckoned to Serada with long fingers with sharp pointed nails.
"You. Come speak with me. If you are to stay then I wish company. Come."
"Don't go!" cried Brice as he grabbed Serada's arm.
"I don't want to go crazy!" cried Serada who hid behind Brice.
"Do not be foolish," said Neheva. She raised her hand and Brice was stuck dumb. Daura ran to him. He shook his head to clear it but seemed fine otherwise. Neheva gestured and Serada could not resist her and walked to her side.
"I do not intend to harm your friend. I merely wish to know what he knows. If you have been truthful with me, then no harm shall come to you and you will leave with the sun and remember nothing of our meeting."
They watched as the witch withdrew and Serada followed her. Gareth started after them but they outdistanced him although he was running and they appeared to walk. Their silhouettes faded to the forest green and disappeared.
"What? Where are they? They were right in front of me."
"We can't follow them now," said Mira. "Let's rest and wait for morning. She said we would be able to leave."
"And remember nothing," said Daura. "I don't like the sound of that. What if she erases more than that memory."
"Don't worry about it," said Mira. "We can't do anything about it."
"We must find Serada," said Gareth. "I won't leave without him."
"Grown rather fond of him, haven't you?" asked Mira.
"I can't afford to lose any more soldiers."
No one spoke for the rest of the night and only a few could find sleep. Brice stood watch and Gareth paced. Mira thought to look for berries or anything that could pass for food but when she tasted what she thought were blackberries she spit out the bitter acid tasting berry and declined to sample anymore. She felt a little dizzy, sat down, and put her head between her knees. She soon felt better.
Just before dawn, Serada returned alone. His face was white and he moved slowly. He did not speak and did not meet anyone's eyes. Daura gave him a drink of water and he sighed. Brice gave him some wine and the color returned to his face.
"What happened?" asked Brice.
"I'd rather not say," replied Serada. His voice was weak.
"Did she hurt you?" asked Mira. "Are you okay?"
"I think so. I don't remember everything and what I think I remember, well, I'd rather not say."
"Do we get to move on?" asked Gareth.
"Yes, you do." They turned to see a young woman, dressed in black standing in the sunlight. Her face was pale but her cheeks were rosy and her blue eyes twinkled. "And I am coming with you."
