The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2) (31 page)

“And that is not good,” Maeven said.

“Of course it is not good,” Grace scowled. “When Pharoh and Sylvie first started the Shadows Grove, one of our missions was to rid the Sacred Forest of all dalua. We did so, but mostly by neutralizing the Well of Wyrding. When the Well was purified, it also neutralized the Sacred Forest, locking most of the Dalua away forever … so we thought. Now that the Well has been breached I fear the Dalua might once more be loose.”

“And that is most certainly not good,” Angelica said.

“Take heed of what you say within. I am not sure what might come of our words.” The menace of Grace’s words made none of them wish to enter the forest, but enter they must, and in time they followed Grace closer to the wood.

When they stepped foot over the boundary of the Sacred Forest, Angelica thought the wood was like nothing she had ever seen before. It wasn’t just the sight of the hundreds of trees all seemingly on top of one another, but also the sounds and smells. The trees sported rich brown bark and dark green needles and leaves, and the smell was like the woods near home as the summer sun heated them. Angelica found it odd that it was autumn and they were entering one of the colder realms, and yet the forest still sported the smell of one warmed by summer heat. Maybe it had to do with the mystery of the forest itself; after all, the name Sacred Forest implied that it was something more than a regular forest.

It was the sound of the forest that she didn’t like. Even if the sights and the smells had lulled her into complacency, the dead silence made every nerve and hair stand on edge. The forest was not completely void of noise; rather it seemed to absorb whatever sound was made so that even the cracking of twigs beneath feet was nothing more than a hollow pop, and then nothing.

If there were any animals living within the forest, Angelica could not tell, for none scurried out of their way. No birds high in trees trumpeted their arrival. As might be expected when there were no animals or birds around, the only thing that thrived were bugs.

I don’t like this,
Angelica told Jovian.

Who would?
he responded.
Do you feel that?

What?

It is kind of like a wind, or a slight breeze, only it isn’t.

A breeze that is not a breeze—now that is weird,
she teased.

You know what I mean.

Just as she was going to tell him no, however, she felt it too. He was right; it was much like a breeze, though slight and barely noticeable unless you were sensitive to it, or looking for it as Angelica was. The breeze rustled along the ground, stirring leaves silently as it passed. Yet the only way Angelica knew the leaves were fluttering in the wind was when she caught the movement out of her eyes.

There was absolutely nothing she liked about this wind, for it felt cold and hateful. Within it she could feel sorrow and despair, pain and suffering, and something much darker that she could not place a finger on … something primeval, ancient.

I feel it,
she told him.

What do you think it is?
he asked as Maeven scouted for a path. Finding a game trail, he motioned for them to follow and gestured silence as he tiptoed forward. Angelica wondered why he was so determined not to disturb the silence. Perhaps the silence was the very thing that stayed his tongue, as it was doing a good job of putting them all on edge.

I honestly don’t know, but I think we should say something. Maybe the power of this breeze is in the silence?
she hazarded a guess.

I don’t think so,
Jovian disagreed.
I think the power of this wind is in the Well of Wyrding, but talking couldn’t hurt, and it might lighten the atmosphere.

“So what is that wind?” Angelica asked and all of them, including Jovian who had been expecting her to speak, jumped. “Is it always here?” She finished more quietly when Grace stopped and put a hand to her chest to calm her thundering heart.

“No,” Grace said closing her eyes for a moment, “it is not always like this.” She fished in her pack for her pipe and they paused while she stuffed and lit it. Taking a deep inhale, she held it for a while before releasing it. “Sorry, my nerves are nearly shot already. I need something to help calm me.”

“So what is causing it?” Jovian asked, holding tight to Methos’ reigns. As they were walking a game trail, the horses were being led as there wasn’t much room, and they didn’t want to injure their mounts. Jovian reasoned that if things were going to be as bad as Grace suspected, they might have to leave their mounts before they actually reached their destinations.

“It is caused by the breach. This wind does not normally happen unless something is happening with the Well of Wyrding. The wind is dependent on what exactly is happening. Last time we altered the wyrd within the Well, the breeze was much more pleasant.” Grace looked around troubled. “Last time I was here there were many more animals than there are now.”

“That is not hard to believe as there aren’t any,” Maeven added.

“They are sensitive to such things; they must have cleared out,” Jovian said.

“Which leads us to another problem,” Angelica cut in, bringing gloom to the lightening conversation. “If this is what happens to the forest that houses the Well, what will happen to people who harbor wyrd?”

“A very good question,” Grace said, and they all fell silent.

As the days passed, the tension mounted more and more until they were all jumping at shadows. Jovian reasoned that it was not only the unusual atmosphere of the Sacred Forest putting them all on edge, but also the strange wyrded wind that gusted about them day and night.

Evenings were passed sometimes with a large fire, if a clearing apt in holding such could be found, but most of the time the night was dark and even more edgy than the day had been.

Angelica noticed at night it became colder; not slightly colder as would be expected of the sun setting, but it became more chilled like autumn than it was during the day. She was not used to being able to see her breath in mid-Mensagem, but she figured it was not such a strange thing this far north. It became apparent that the weather in the south had spoiled her somewhat. Normally weather like this in the south heralded the falling of leaves and mornings marked by slight frost, but here the needles stayed where they were, and the leaves had not yet even changed color. Though the mornings did see the presence of frost, most of the times heavy and covering them all like a fine sheet of snow.

When the sun set there was a new type of terror the mind conjured, which was only slightly lessened by the presence of a fire. It seemed the shadows themselves came to life and watched them. Angelica wasn’t sure if this was actually the case or if she was only imagining things, but she wouldn’t doubt something of the like could actually happen in this place.

Talking became nearly obsolete, and the slight conversations Jovian and Angelica shared mentally wound to a close as nerves were stretched to near breaking. At times Angelica wanted nothing more than to cry, though she could find no sound reason for doing so.

“What is that?” Angelica asked one night. They were all sat around a large fire more than capable of warding off the dark, though not their worries.

“What?” Grace asked looking around in alarm.

“That glowing light over there.” Angelica pointed off into the distance. At first none of them could see what she was talking about. Then, slowly, each one glimpsed the distant light and they all stared at it long and hard.

“I am not sure,” Grace whispered, her eyebrows pinched together as she squinted to see the source.

“Maybe it is something good?” Jovian hoped, though hope of something good now, here, seemed impossible.

“No, I think not,” Grace said turning back to her dinner but cautiously casting a glance behind her from time to time to ensure the light came no closer.

“Remember we thought the Hobbedy’s Lantern was good as well,” Grace said.

“No, we were lured by them, enticed; these lights fill me with awe,” Angelica said.

“As the Hobbedy’s Lantern did me,” Jovian protested. “I think it would be best if we did not go after something in these woods that we don’t know what it is, or what it is about.”

“So you think it could be a Hobbedy’s Lantern?”

“Who knows?” Grace asked. “Hecklin’s eyes are said to glow white.”

“Do they only have one eye?” Angelica scoffed.

“Do we honestly think it is wise talking of all these creatures here?” Maeven asked quietly, and they all fell silent. “If nothing else it does nothing to calm our nerves.”

But they had all felt it as well. There was a change in the wyrd the moment they started talking about the beasts this light could be evidence of. The wyrd had become more lifelike, as if it had grown ears, or was somehow listening to them, observing what they had to say.

But the fairies at Willabanter Ford also glowed,
Angelica reminded Jovian as they all settled down for the night.

I know, Angie,
he replied
. I just don’t think it is wise to trust that this forest can produce anything positive, at least not in its current state of flux.

You have a point,
she relented after some time. But by the empty feeling at the other end of their connection, Jovian had already fallen asleep, which was more than Angelica could hope for.

“T
here it is again,” Angelica said later the next day. It was the first thing spoken all day, and like all the times before, her voice startled them all, including the horses.

“Angelica, if you are going to insist on these outbursts, could you at least do them a little more quietly?” Grace barked.

“Sorry, but I just saw the light again, off to the right. Are we sure we are going the right way?” Angelica halted.

“Yes we are going the right way. Not only is Maeven an excellent scout, but the Lunimara is nearly a straight shot north from where we entered. It is probably just the sun glinting off some metal that you are seeing. Believe me, it is hard for me to believe that anything good has remained in this forest.”

“I guess you’re right,” Angelica said downtrodden as she returned to the path before her once more, trying her best to ignore that which hung along the corner of her eye.

Halfway through the day, they got their next fright.

The sound they heard was a lot like metal being rent in half. It was a strange metallic sound, part fowl and part dog howl.

“What the Otherworld was that?” Angelica asked trying to calm her rearing horse.

“That would be a Hecklin,” Grace said. Her eyes darted this way and that. At the mention of the name, the strange listening quality came to the wyrded breeze bustling the leaves about them.

“Why does that keep happening?” Jovian whispered, looking to the leaves for an explanation.

“What’s that?” Grace asked, but Jovian shook his head and would say no more.

Why would the forest be listening to them? Angelica chalked it all up to nerves, though the short time they had been in these woods seemed a lifetime already.

“We need to hurry now,” Grace pressed. “These creatures are very brutal and not easily defeated.” She mounted Holly. “Come, there is no time to waste. I am afraid that we will have to ride our horses now. We can risk their breaking a leg more than we can risk being caught.” It was cruel but true.

“They are brutal?” Jovian asked.

“They do not attack in the conventional way, and neither are they tactful as their cousins are. When they attack it is violent, much bloodier than tearing your throat out or gutting you. No, Hecklins like to bludgeon you to death, or at least incapacitate their victims so they are motionless before they eat you,” Maeven explained, and again when he mentioned the creature’s name the wyrd seemed to listen.

“Can we stop saying their names? It’s like the forest is listening,” Angelica shifted uncomfortably.

It was then that another howl penetrated the air, but this time it was from more than one throat. This time it was the howl of pack hunting. The howls turned to yips and barks that only seemed to come closer and closer much more rapidly than they could ride.

Around evening the howling abated slightly until finally it seemed they would have rest at last, and they went out of their way to find a clearing large enough for a bonfire. After their dinner was cleared away, they all gathered close to the fire, and Grace told them what she knew.