Dark Magic (6 page)

“No sir,” the guardsman called down nervously. “I would only like you to wait to see what they want.”

They followed the pointing arm of the blue-cloaked guard. Behind them came a small patrol of four horsemen. They came at a gallop.

They waited, and Brand felt a mix of emotions. If they brought word that he was needed here at home, that would indeed form a conflict within him. But part of his mind hoped they would bring bad news. That part of him shifted excitedly on his back and stuck its handle out into the cold wintery air.

As they drew up kicking mud, he realized one of the blue cloaks was Freya. The horses snorted, stamped and blew out plumes of white steam.

“Well, what do you want?” demanded Tomkin from his high perch. Brand for the first time wondered why they had brought the manling along. All he had done thus far was weigh down their horse.

The commander of the patrol looked shocked and eyed Tomkin distrustfully. When he spoke, he made no mention of Tomkin, however. People must have learned by this time that Brand kept strange company.

“Ah, milord,” said the leader, who wore the insignia of a captain. “Sorry for the intrusion. I’m the local commander of the Hamlet garrison. Might I ask if your presence here indicates some kind of... problem?”

Brand shook his head. “No, I’m not here to slay some new giant, if that’s what you are worried about, captain. We are just passing through into the Deepwood. We are on our way into the west on a diplomatic mission.”

“The west? That must mean the Kindred, then. Few travelers dare the journey to the Black Mountains these days.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Brand with confident smile.

The captain chuckled. “I’m sure of that. But let me ask you something. If you happen to find evidence of a lost child, would you please check on it for us?”

“What child?” asked Telyn.

“A boy, less than ten years old. He’s been missing for three days. We have hope, but in our hearts we fear the worst.”

“Have you searched the forests for him?” asked Telyn.

The captain looked regretful. “We have, but few dare to go more than a mile into the Deepwood these days. For the most part, men have walked along the borders of the forest and shouted. In days past we would have mounted a company of searchers, but now even the bravest trappers run out of the trees when they see their own shadows.”

“I understand,” said Brand, nodding. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

“What’s the boy’s name?”

“Ari. He’s of the Sacken clan.”

They bade them farewell. Freya was the last to leave, giving them a final wave.

As they turned back to face the Deepwood, Brand’s face turned to a scowl. They had not yet managed to enter the shadowy gloom beneath the trees and already they’d heard tales of evil. Looking at the forest, he could feel the presence of the place. It was not like the Haven wood. Somehow, these trees were darker of aspect, taller, less clean. The wood itself did not seem rotted or diseased, far from it; the trees were bigger and thicker. But there was less birdsong and fewer fresh scents. What sounds there were seemed to be furtive ones, from creatures that rustled about, hidden in the lush undergrowth. The scents too, were of unwholesome dankness, as if the swollen trunks of the trees and the thickets that grew in profusion beneath their spreading branches were only the surface. As if things more noisome, moist and laden with fungus grew below, upon the black earth of the unseen forest floor.

And so they proceeded into the trees with a final wave from guardsman on his rickety perch. He held aloft both his bow and his curved horn in salute, wishing them well. Once in the trees themselves, however, they felt far from welcome. Only Tomkin seemed unperturbed.

“Finally, we passed up that lot. I thought they would talk on forever.”

“They only wanted us to find the child, Tomkin,” admonished Telyn. She had her bow out and at the ready as they walked. She had not yet notched an arrow, but there was one resting in her other hand. Her eyes swept the forest, and Brand thought she seemed determined.

Brand himself felt disquieted, but it was a mix of emotions. Partly, due to the influence of the axe upon his mind, he was overjoyed to be exiting the Haven, where interesting things rarely happened. But partly he worried about the lost child and the nature of this forest itself, which seemed if anything to be less pure than when he had tracked down the dying giant a few months ago. The Faerie could be involved here. Certainly, they had given up on directly attacking the Haven, but they were in evidence all along the borders and it would be just like their kind to lure away a young one into the dark forests.

They had entered the forest before noon, and by late afternoon they had completely buried themselves in it. Brand could not recall ever having been so far into the Deepwood before. It seemed to him that every step took them further from all sources of light and happiness. He was glad it would only be a two day walk to the lands of the Kindred. In fact, he was tempted to suggest they keep walking all night long and get out of this cursed forest the following day. But he knew that would be a foolish idea. Arriving in the Black Mountains exhausted and staggering on their feet would be worse than spending a single night in the forest. He’d never been there, but according to all accounts the mountains were, if anything, more hazardous than the Deepwood.

And so they traveled at a fast walk, only pausing occasionally while Telyn called for the lost boy, Ari. At these pauses Tomkin rolled his eyes and complained of wasted time. Finally, Telyn became annoyed with him.

“That’s enough complaining, Tomkin. If you want to move faster, then help with the task at hand rather than weighing upon our horse’s back.”

Tomkin made a dismissive gesture.

“I’ll make you a bargain, then,” she said, “you make yourself useful, scouting the woods around us for any sign of the boy, and I’ll stop taking breaks to call and listen for him.”

Tomkin threw up his hands in a gesture of exasperation. “The boy is dead and gone, missy!”

But Telyn was stubborn, and in the end, perhaps as much out of boredom as anything else, Tomkin did as she bid. In truth, Brand thought he looked happier out there bounding around them in widening circles, looking for any sign of the boy. At least he had something to do.

Even the road they followed began to blur. By nightfall, perhaps halfway through, it had transformed from a road to a trail. Each mile they tread into the forest the trail became harder to follow. Grasses and mushrooms grew up in profusion on their path. The horse’s heavy hooves crushed down these last, but Brand suspected that in a week or two all evidence of their passing would be erased. He wondered, with the thick, enchanted growth of the Deepwood working against them, how long would it be before the trail was erased permanently? If all trade were halted between the Haven and the Kindred, mostly from fear, he thought that within a season the road might not be possible to follow. It would have been swallowed up by the trees and most of all that strange undergrowth. He considered suggesting that the Haven send a patrol of militia, preferably on horseback and carrying sabers, through the wood once a week or so to drive back the forest. He wondered if they would do it, or if they would beg off, citing their lack of manpower for such duties.

Deciding to take care of matters himself, he took out the axe and slashed at the thickest growth and chopped away overhanging branches. The lush greenery curled away from the axe and bled sap. Soon he was grinning and had broken into chanting, repetitive song. Telyn walked the horse behind him, not arguing. He did not care what she thought. He did not give one whit for her concerns. He was having fun.

By the time night had fallen, they had made good progress. They would be out of the Deepwood before night fell again, Tomkin assured them. Only Telyn seemed unhappy. They had seen no sign of the boy, nor of anyone else for that matter. Brand reluctantly put away the axe, breathing hard, and felt a great tiredness fall over him the moment he did so. They set up camp in the middle of the trail itself, fearful that by morning they may not be able to identify it otherwise.

They ate a rough meal of beans, chicken, blister-root and broth. They dared not add any of the massive mushrooms that grew everywhere underfoot. None of them knew one from the other and none wanted to spend the night retching. Brand was left wishing Corbin had come along. Somehow, that man could always make a fine meal. He suspected he would find a way to eat well in a desert. Tomkin ran in with something live and wriggling he’d caught from the forest and tossed it into their stewpot before they could object. Wrinkling their noses, they waited until the splashing about had long since ceased, and then tasted their broth again. Brand had to admit, there was a certain flavorful tang to it now. He tried not to think about it as he had a second serving.

Tired from a long day’s travel and sore of arm from chopping away half the forest, Brand fell asleep beside the fire as soon as he laid down. Tomkin was in charge of the first watch, Telyn the second. Brand expected to be up before dawn for his shift.

* * *

When he awoke with a start some hours later, it was the middle of the night. Their fire had died down to embers crowned by a single tongue of yellow flame. He sat up, and felt for his axe first. It was there, shivering under his hand. What had awakened it?

He looked around, blinking back sleep and yawning. The roan slept standing nearby. Tomkin lay flat upon the horse’s back, gently snoring through his tiny nostrils. But of Telyn, there was no sign.

Brand roused himself and stood up, remembering the night of the Will O’ the Wisp, when he and Telyn had been led astray by old Hob’s lantern. Could someone or
something
have led her off again?

“Telyn?” he asked in a whisper.

No reply came. He thought about taking out his axe, but didn’t want to sound an alarm just yet. Possibly, she had just gone into the trees to relieve herself.

“Telyn?” he called again, louder this time.

The horse nickered softly. Tomkin snorted and rolled over in his sleep, and the horse’s back was wide enough for him to do so without falling off.

Brand threw more wood on the fire, becoming concerned. He thought about waking up Tomkin, but before he moved to do so, he thought he heard something. It sounded like crying. Could it be the child? That was his first thought.

He walked into the Deepwood proper, leaving the trail behind, several steps in the direction of the sound. He thought he saw a dark shape ahead. He knew the shape, even though it was nearly pitch black.

“Telyn?” he asked.

She gave a sudden, startled intake of breath. “Brand?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve found him.”

“The boy?”

“Yes, come,” she said.

Brand went back to awaken Tomkin, but she reached an arm toward him. “Perhaps you should let him sleep.”

“Why?”

“So you do not slay him when you see what I’ve found.”

Brand was quiet for a few seconds, thinking about her words. A dark feeling crept over him. It was a cold feeling of dread. Also, growing beneath that, was the first inkling of anger. If ever he felt he should slay Tomkin, if the Wee One had been judged and found wanting, then that was how it should be. Tomkin would, at that very moment, be executed.

Deservedly so.

That was the voice of the axe, he told himself, startled. It had been a long while indeed since he had heard its thoughts directly. Could it be that in a place like this, its voice grew stronger?

He shook his head and became aware that Telyn was standing close to him, silently watching him. Had he muttered any of his thoughts aloud? He wasn’t sure.

“All right,” he said at last. “Show me what you have found.”

She produced in her hand a tiny light. It was not a candle, or a lantern, nor even an ember from the fire. Instead, it was a glowing thing that gave off a cold yellow-green light, like that of a firefly that never faded to dimness, but instead simply kept on glowing steadily. Brand did not ask her about this light. He knew that Myrrdin and Gudrin had taught her many small tricks of magic. It was best not to ask, because he knew the axe would not like the answer. If the axe imagined she posed some danger, it might become harder to think. He focused on following her and watching for any sign of something worse.

It was not a long trip. They came to a clearing. So far as Brand knew, this was only the second clearing he had ever seen in the Deepwood, the first having been the spot where he had found Twrog’s body.

He was surprised to see that the moon rode overhead. The forest had been so dense, so made up of thick bushy pines, that they had blocked out all sign of the sky. When on the trail, looking up you could see a thin river of stars, but even this vanished sometimes when the trees leaned forward, arching over the trail itself, greedy to close it off forever from the sky. In this clearing, however, it was as if a light shown upon the spot.

In the center of the clearing was a ring of mushrooms. Each mushroom had a stalk as thick as man’s arm and a cap as big as a buckler. They were as black as midnight, a black that swallowed light, and yet each one glowed, encircled with a radiating an eldritch nimbus. Brand had seen glowing growths before, usually in caves, but he had never seen such a powerful green-white luminescence as this. His axe moved at the very sight of the place, and squirmed upon his back. It had been agitated ever since they left the trail, begging to be freed of his pack. He controlled his thoughts and his desire to grasp the handle with an effort of will.