Revelation (11 page)

“But how did the two of you come together?” Braden asked.

“Well,” Lorik pressed on. “When I heard that Aaron had made captain and was given command of the Third Order of the Royal Guard I immediately transferred myself to his command. I knew that he would either command the best order of the Guard or that he would need someone to keep him from falling over! Either way, I wanted to be a part of his unit.” Lorik fell silent.

Aaron could see the shadow of despair in Lorik’s eyes and knew that his friend bore a heavy weight of guilt upon his heart. “Lorik,” he said, “don’t bear the weight of loss too great. It was not you, but Morryn who led our men to their end.” However, the captain felt that same weight and turned his thoughts back to the moment. “Let’s get moving,” he commanded. “We have several hours of daylight left, and I mean to make the best use of it.” With Lorik and Braden close behind, Aaron stepped into the forest.

Though the rains had let up, the winter’s chill still hung heavy in the woods. All around them they could hear the constant dripping of water as the trees glistened with the previous showers that had soaked the entire region. The sun now shone through the wispy clouds that seemed to lazily drift across the afternoon sky. As they continued, the forest went from being a gathering of thin, distant trees to a thick copse of hardy pine and fir. They had no path to follow, but Aaron kept a steady eye to the south as they tried to navigate the underbrush which tangled their feet. All about them, the heavy branches seemed to take on a life of their own as they swatted and grasped the three travelers. Though the sun’s radiance shined brightly overhead, darkness continued to deepen the farther they trudged into the woods.

Despite the increasing difficulty, Aaron was glad to have the woods around them, hoping that no watchful eye would discover their whereabouts. From their vantage point on the cliffs of the Shattered Hills Aaron thought that the narrow strip of woods would be passable in a day. This was not the case. He found traveling through the dense growth difficult at best and nearly impossible all other times. He and Lorik were often ducking, dodging or just simply hindered by the overwhelming amount of limbs that clawed at them from every direction. Braden didn’t fare much better, but was able to navigate under the branches with greater dexterity.

After hours of tangling with the forest—the day spent—Aaron finally stopped in exhaustion. The sun descended into the west, passing over the Shadow Mountains far beyond their sight while a grey haze blanketed their world in the fading light of day. Using their illumine stones they continued in the dark to make as much headway as possible before their strength finally faltered.

“How far do you think we’ve come?” Braden asked the weary sergeant.

“Not far,” Lorik replied. “I don’t think we covered more than a mile since we entered these woods.”

“Fortunately,” said Aaron, “we are well hidden in these trees. It may be a more difficult journey than going west to the lake, but that would take us too close to Hamilton and the garrison stationed there. By now, I am sure, if Rayn made it back then he will have been able to contact the emperor, and the Royal Guard will be searching for us. Taking the harder road might be the best hope we have of making it to the mountains.”

As they rested, the night closed in around them. They struck no fire, but found that the woods themselves seemed to maintain a cool, but tolerable temperature. The snows of winter were behind them, falling in the north, and they enjoyed a meager meal of the cold scraps they carried. High above the canopy of trees, clouds drifted across the night sky, dimly lit by the waxing moon. All around them the sounds of the night filled the air like a chorus, keeping vigil through the evening. Crickets chirped; a large, horned owl hooted somewhere in the branches above; and from some lonely hillside they heard the evening cry of a wolf.

“Sir,” Lorik whispered, “should we keep a watch tonight?”

“No,” Aaron replied, “I think we’re safe in these woods. If we are pursued in here we should know it immediately. Let’s be at peace for tonight. I fear that tomorrow will only bring us more hardship trying to go through this forest.” Aaron could barely see the expression on his sergeant’s face, but was certain that Lorik was not so assured of their safety. “Don’t worry, Lorik,” the captain spoke quietly. “I don’t imagine that even if Rayn had alerted the Royal Guard they could have traced us to this place so fast. I suspect it would be more likely that we will find them waiting for us on the pass into the Kanton Mountains.”

“You’re probably right,” the sergeant replied in his hushed tone, “but I don’t trust these woods.” Despite his concern, Lorik’s exhaustion won over and the sergeant was quickly asleep. Braden had already fallen asleep and Aaron, seeing his two companions given over to the fatigue of the day, gave in to the need for rest.

The night went as he had predicted, without any disturbance. Even the owl, hooting high overhead, did nothing to trouble their repose. They each woke, Braden last of all. Favoring his left arm, the dwarf quickly bandaged it and winced every time he moved.

Lorik, however, was not so quick to disregard the look of pain that shot across the dwarf’s face. “Let me have a look at that arm,” the sergeant commanded.

“It’s nothing, just the gash having torn open during the night,” Braden said.

“I’ll judge that for myself.” Lorik’s tone gave no quarter for argument, as he spoke to Braden the same way he would speak to a new recruit.

Stepping to the dwarf, he reached out his hand and grasped the arm with authority. Braden winced in agony as Lorik removed the blood-soaked bandages. Shock filled his eyes when he saw the infected wound. The entire gash, measuring from his shoulder, half-way to his elbow, was completely red with heat. The damaged tissue was covered in dried, bloody discharge, black and caked. At the deepest point of penetration, blood still seeped from fleshly fissures as Braden sweated with fever from the infection.

Lorik immediately took action. “You’re going to lose that arm if we don’t act quickly,” he said to Braden as he rummaged in his bag for the water flask. Tearing a strip of cloth from the hem of his cloak, he washed it in the water, then began cleaning and tending the wound. It was far deeper than he had at first realized, cutting down to the bone. Not having his suture kit, he couldn’t sew up the injury. Instead, he tore several strips of cloth from his cloak and tied them tight around Braden’s arm, closing the gash and hoping to keep out any more infection.

“We’ll have to clean that wound every night, until it heals properly,” Lorik commanded.

With his arm tended, Braden stood and the three travelers continued their fight through the dense underbrush. Using their swords to slash their way through the more impenetrable foliage and branches, it seemed to Aaron that the forest itself worked against them. Aaron followed what he considered a potential path through the thick flora, nothing more than a less dense part of the thick undergrowth. Braden winced with each brush against his arm while beads of sweat fell from his brow, clear evidence that his infected arm was a greater concern than he wanted to believe. Occasionally the forest would open from the underbrush into a clearing or field, only to quickly close in on them again when they had crossed the miniscule expanses.

They pressed on while each step became an increasingly greater effort for Braden. Lorik helped the injured dwarf, carrying his pack and battle-axe, while Aaron walked alongside Braden to keep him from falling. The air was close, heavy and hard to breathe. The scent of pine, once giving them a fragrance of hope now was the harbinger of even greater difficulty. For all their efforts, they just couldn’t seem to make any significant headway through the strip of forest between the Shattered Hills and the Waste.

Aaron stopped, sitting silently on a fallen tree overgrown with moss and lichen. He was drained and frustrated. His shoulders were slumped, his arms hung loosely by his side. Lorik sat down beside his discouraged captain, grateful for a chance to rest. They sat silent for several minutes. High overhead, through the canopy of trees, the sun passed beyond noon. The sky, what they could see of it, was clear and cloudless.

“Captain,” Lorik exclaimed. “I don’t know that Braden will be able to continue through these woods.”

“Nonsense!” Braden responded as he gasped for breath. “I am just as strong as you are.”

“Let me have a look at that injury,” the captain ordered. Braden reluctantly extended his arm, a flash of pain searing across his face. As he removed the bandages the captain saw that the arm had not begun to heal as blood still seeped from the wound. And now, red, swollen veins extended up and down his arm; the infection was spreading. The arm itself was hot to the touch. Lorik watched as Braden shivered with fever, grimacing every time Aaron repositioned the limb.

“This is not normal,” said Aaron. “I’ve seen worse wounds than this that didn’t suffer such effects. There must have been some form of poison on the gremellak’s blade.” He turned to his sergeant. “Do you have any of that dwarf draught in the bag?” Lorik began to rummage through the satchel he had been carrying. He found a flask still filled with the strong drink and handed it to the captain.

“Now, Braden,” Aaron ordered. “I want you to take a drink of this. It has some healing properties, as you know. I only wish we had some of that healing ointment.”

Braden did as he was told; taking a healthy dose of the dark liquid and handing it back to the captain. Immediately his face flushed with new life and dispelled the pallor. The fever diminished, and he stood with some greater strength.

“How do you feel?” asked Lorik.

“Better,” Braden responded. “I feel much better, and the pain is diminished.

“Your infection is still a problem,” Aaron said. “I don’t think that simply keeping it clean will prove to be a cure. We need to find some way to expel the poison.”

“Braden,” Lorik commented, “you seem to have a good knowledge of plant-life. Is there anything that we could find to help?”

The dwarf sat silent for a time. “Legends speak of a certain type of tree with leaves that have healing properties.” Braden thought a bit more. “It is said that the ancient King planted these trees throughout all of Celedon, to provide help to all who travel through the kingdom. That was over a thousand years ago, though, and I don’t know if they survived the rampage of the Great War.”

“What do they look like?” Aaron asked. “How can we know that we’ve found the right tree?”

Braden’s face beaded with sweat from fever. “I… I don’t remember. It was an unusual tree, unlike anything that would grow naturally. It’s said that the tree was found growing in the Melange Forest and as far north as Shepherd’s Peak. But I don’t have any more information than that.”

Lorik looked at Braden with a puzzled expression. “I’ve been all over Celedon, and I have never heard of such a forest.”

“That’s what the elves call it. It’s far to the south,” Braden said. “It borders the southern coast of the Inland Sea. But there must be those trees in these woods as well.”

Aaron sighed in frustration. “Well, we can’t simply wander through this forest hoping to stumble upon a tree that we can’t identify and don’t know its location.” He looked at Braden who was trying to smile through the pain of his injury. “We will tend to you as best we can, and hope that your dwarf stamina will sustain you.”

“That might not be necessary,” a deep and resonant voice echoed through the woods. The men turned and saw the figure of a man walking toward them. He had a wizened look, ancient and yet ageless. His head was graced with long, silver hair and his skin looked as if he had spent much of his time in the sun. He walked with a staff, yet seemed to possess a strength that needed no aid. His clean-shaven face had the appearance of one who knew the very edges of life, yet he bore a countenance of compassion.

As he approached, he moved through the dense brush with no difficulty, unhindered by the limbs and growth of the forest. Aaron watched as he came closer and could hardly believe his eyes when it appeared as if the underbrush actually parted for him, easing his passage. He didn’t sense any fear, and the man seemed to come with no intended malice. Aaron, cautious for his small band, drew his sword—but feared that he did not possess the power to overcome the one who approached.

“Your sword will not be needed, young captain of Celedon.” The visitor spoke, and his voice conveyed a depth of trust.

Aaron felt a strong familiarity with the man who approached but was not so easily swayed. “Who are you? And how do you know me?” His questions were spoken with all the authority he could muster.

“I am a servant of the Great One, and I’m here now for you—to aid you in your quest. I’ve known of you for many years, and was told of your journey from another of my kind, one whom you already met.” A smile crossed the newcomer’s face, revealing a deep kindness. “But we delay and your friend is in need of healing. Come, follow me to my home, and I will do what I can to help you.”

Aaron sheathed his sword, still unsure of their new benefactor. “You must have a name. What should we call you?”

“I am Dalyn.” With that, he turned east and walked away from the three companions, the brush and briars spreading a path before him.

Braden looked up at the other two, puzzled at the appearance of the strange visitor. Aaron and Lorik glanced at each other, Lorik shrugging his shoulders in wonder. Picking up their packs they turned and followed Dalyn down the path that was made for him. Behind them the foliage closed in, hiding their passage through the woods.

The travelers continued deeper into the forest, moving quickly through the undergrowth as they followed Dalyn. An hour passed, then two, unhindered as they went, until they entered into a spacious grove of trees, cleared of the thick undergrowth and carefully landscaped. In the center of the clearing stood what looked like a spacious cottage, a wood and brick structure with a tall stone chimney built against the outer wall. White smoke rose from the top of the chimney, drifting casually through the quiet air. Two large windows bracketed a door, rounded at the top. The cottage was encircled by a deck with the roof extending over it supported by wooden poles, protecting it from the weather. The deck itself was adorned with a variety of chairs and tables as if it was always prepared to receive visitors.