Part II: Shadow Arkagas

Chapter XI: Finding the Coin

Together, they entered one of the ground-floor rooms of the house. The furnishings were very simple. Scattered straw lay on the floor, apparently used for sleeping. Against the wall stood a still-warm stove, above which tattered and torn nets were drying. Beside the door stood a massive wooden table.

Súlin noticed something glinting on the tabletop. He stepped closer and saw a large silver coin lying next to a ball of twine and an awl. Initially, he was captivated by a symbol resembling a ship or a crescent moon depicted on the coin, along with characters of an unknown language. It was stained with mud and a peculiar slime, smelling of fish. He picked it up for deeper examination. As soon as he took the coin into his palm, he discovered to his amazement that it was much heavier than it appeared. When he set it in motion, its force of inertia was several times higher than expected. Súlin’s greatest surprise, however, was that the coin was gradually draining his magical energy. He felt the greatest loss of energy when the coin directly touched his body. He tried to understand the engraving on the edge of the coin, but without success. He handed it to Arsia and shared what he had discovered. But even she did not understand the unknown script. She did, however, reveal that with proper use, the coin could serve as a link between this world and another. From its nature, she deduced that the world it referred to was one that was damp and dark. Given that they were in a hurry—and the thought of using the coin right now was far from pleasant—Arsia hid it in a secret cavity within her combat staff.

Chapter XII: The Mesh of the World

Before the company left the house, Arsia forced her consciousness to reveal the essence of the space in this foreign world. She discovered that it differed fundamentally from the structure of Qurand. While Qurand is a surface formed by a basically linear spatial mesh, this place was of a spherical nature. Its space was formed by systems of concentric spheres and circles, whose centers were tied to places with power far above the average of the surroundings. As she explained this to her companions, some did not understand. She therefore used the following analogy:

“It is like when you throw stones into a lake. Circles form around the place where they land. However, the smaller the circle, the higher the wave,” she paused for a moment and then pointed in one direction, saying: “If we go this way, we will reach the place where the largest stone fell.”

When Night Butterfly looked out the window in that direction, he saw a towering peak in the center of the town.

Chapter XIII: The Blind Interpreter

In the end, they had no choice but to step out of their hiding place. They walked down the street for a while toward the nearby hill, but it wasn’t long before a group of about three white-clad men came to meet the unusual procession of strangers. One of them addressed Súlin, who was walking in front with Arsia, in a friendly manner. When they found they did not understand a word of each other, they exchanged several polite smiles. The stranger sent one man away with a message, pointed to himself, and said: “Aldin Garion Gonari.”ých mužů. Jeden z nich přátelsky oslovil Súlina, který šel s Arsiou vpředu. Když zjistili, že si nerozumí ani slovo, vrhli na sebe navzájem několik společenských úsměvů.Neznámý poslal jednoho muže se vzkazem pryč, ukázal sám na sebe a pravil: „Aldin Garion Gonari.“

After a while, a procession of festive-clad young men and women arrived, carrying flower wreaths, bowls of fruit, and a pitcher of water. They hung the wreaths around the necks of the company members. Before Aldin handed them the bowl of fruit, he randomly chose several pieces and tasted them himself; he did the same with the pitcher of water, from which he took a sip. Everyone willingly ate the fruit and tasted the local water. The water was strange. It was fresh and held the youth of this place, but an unknown kind of magic could be felt within it. Arsia identified it as strong water-rune magic and only tasted a tiny bit herself.

Soon, an unmistakable pair arrived: an old man led by a small boy. The old man was blind. He had short white hair, a long white beard, and a blindfold over his eyes. Despite his age, he had the massive build of a former warrior and limped slightly. In one hand he held a white cane; with the other, he held onto his guide. When he approached the company, he offered a greeting. Súlin repeated his introductory phrase in the Siranian tongue: “Peace be with you, my name is Súlin. We are travelers from the distant Siranian Empire and we come in peace.”

The old man introduced himself as Danak and subsequently spoke to the company in several languages. After a short dialogue, he was already able to pronounce basic Siranian sentences with minor errors. It was clear from the situation that he was a local interpreter. Then he said: “We welcome you to the land of King Mornigal. His Highness will return at midnight from his travels. We would be very pleased if you stayed with us as honored guests in anticipation of his arrival. You are all invited to a welcoming feast.”

Chapter XIV: The Feast

Then they were led together to a beautiful wood-paneled guest house, where they were seated at large tables and presented with many dishes and drinks, especially beer and mead. Everyone enjoyed tasting the fare, except Arsia, who cautiously tasted nothing but a few pieces of fruit. She had to fight a great thirst, for she was aware of the danger lurking in the local water.

Skilled musicians were also brought to the feast. During the welcoming entertainment, they talked with the interpreter. Everything suggested that the situation would become clear once the king returned. The lively discussion was only interrupted by the performance of a harpist. It was evident that she was a mistress of her art, which was clearly held in high regard in this world. Her fingers touched the strings as lightly as swan wings touch the water’s surface, and her lips sang a plaintive heroic song. Although no one understood the words, it seemed to them they understood what the story was about. They felt a harmony, captivated by the tale. Long after the music ended, they heard its melody within.

The enchanting harpist and her husband then rose to join the other hosts in welcoming the company to the village. The musician was tall and slender, with clear white skin and deep black raven hair that flowed gracefully around her shoulders. She was clad in an azure blue dress that flowed to the ground. Her husband was of similar build, had short black hair, and was also festively dressed—in a white robe with gold ornaments on the chest and sleeves. When they shook hands with Omerin, the dryad attempted a psychometric penetration into their minds. Both appeared as extremely educated, successful people, raised according to the strictest order of the community. Yet, or perhaps precisely because of it, Omerin felt a certain coolness toward the authorities. She felt that their cultivated abilities exceeded the perspective of many others, giving them a uniqueness in thinking which they tried to hide from the outside world. Everyone felt a brief flash of mutual deeper understanding during the conversation with them.

Chapter XV: The Escape

The celebration ended, and those who introduced themselves as pilgrims from distant Sirania were led shortly after nightfall to the guest house to await the midnight arrival of King Mornig. He was to be the authority who would answer their still unclear knowledge about the world they had entered when they followed Omerin, who had seen the shadow of a child in the mysterious ruins of a faded temple.

They were assigned the third floor of a spacious stone house located near the center of the town at the foot of the hill. Súlin, who went with the others to look around the countryside, remained fascinated by the rich wall frescoes next to the windows. He stopped to examine them. Meanwhile, an unknown kind of nervousness grew among the others. Night Butterfly pulled back the curtain and leaned slightly out of the window to look at the street around the house. In the shadow of the street lamps, he saw several men standing restlessly or walking aimlessly back and forth, trying to act natural. It was obvious they were there to prevent any escape attempt.

“It seems the locals have taken such a liking to us that they don’t want to lose us at any cost,” Night Butterfly remarked to the others, pointing out the window.

“Their hospitality has been sitting heavy in my stomach for some time now as well,” Omerin replied, after looking out the window and narrowing her eyes in restless thought.

Among the floral ornaments on the wall, Súlin found the outlines of strange beings with four arms. Above them was a larger fresco depicting a throne and a ruler sitting upon it. He was a tall, stocky man, resembling an old warrior. He had short white hair and a beard and held a long staff in his hand… “What does that remind me of?” Súlin searched his recent memory.

“Why, that king looks exactly like our blind interpreter…!” he whispered half-aloud. He was about to go to the others to share his discovery when his perfect hearing caught the faint sound of shattering glass in one of the windows on their floor. He ran to the window and looked out into the darkened street. He saw a figure standing in the shadows… he recognized him… it was the harpist’s husband, whom they had met that evening. He shifted restlessly for a moment as if wanting to take back his deed, but then he turned and vanished into the darkness of the night town. The company gathered around the object that had flown through the window, discovering it was a stone wrapped in a strip of parchment.

Omerin unrolled the parchment and read: “The King will admit you into the ranks of those we fear.”

After reading the parchment, shadows fell upon their minds. While the others thoughtfully spun plans for an escape route, Súlin stepped to the roof dormer and intently studied the surroundings of the house.

“There are not many ways to escape unnoticed by the guards,” it flashed through his mind. “We can try a desperate escape through the main door, but we will risk our own lives and a bloody retaliation, or we save ourselves by jumping from the window, but even then we will hardly escape pursuers. That is the path the earth can offer us.” Súlin looked out the window at the night sky. He immersed his mind in the stellar space and something caught his eye…

He felt he was within reach of the celestial vault, which was bounded by a peculiar spherical curvature of space. The center of the curvature was identical to the center of the town, exactly as Arsia had felt. He was surprised that he had not encountered such a quality of the celestial vault not only in his years of study but even in his fantasies, with which he had fed many an elven beauty during walks above the thousand snow-white peaks of the Sairis towers and turrets during deep nights. Suddenly he woke from his reverie and realized that the sky offered them a certain path. Looking out the window, he noticed that the edge of the forest was no more than three hundred swords away.

“Three hundred swords is not such a great distance,” he mused, “that I couldn’t move the company to the first trees of the woods.” Turning to the others with these thoughts, he said: “Unless you have other suggestions, I have a surprise for you—we shall sail through the air,” he raised his eyebrows inquiringly, with a nearly imperceptible smile looking into his friends’ faces, and gestured with his arm toward the window. No one said a word; they all just silently stepped forward and gripped hands firmly. Súlin looked out the window again to make sure the street below was quiet. Then he turned into the room and closed his eyes. He took three deep breaths, and with the last breath, he began to slowly and intently raise his arms, palms turned toward the sky. The others immediately felt their feet lightly lifting from the ground. The mage relaxed his hands and pulled them to his chest, only to immediately push them out in front of him with a strong exhale. They felt a powerful rush of air that carried them through the window into the cool night. The wizard pushed off with his toes and followed their trajectory. At first, they moved at a walking pace, but they felt the speed gradually increasing.

It wasn’t long, however, before they were suddenly spotted by guards in the streets. The first spray of arrows and fire spells took flight the moment Súlin realized how valuable a mirror shield would have been to them, with which they could have crossed the dangerous distance unseen. Nevertheless, he summoned it belatedly. The shield rippled and in several places dissolved completely for a time under the impact of the projectiles. One of the arrows passed through the shield and hit Omerin, tearing her right sleeve along its entire length and piercing the skin above her elbow. Butterfly and Arsia were slowed by a smaller fire explosion that occurred a few fathoms below their feet. In the air, they smelled the scent of singed hair and skin. For a moment, they all fell into a panic.

Ignis didn’t wait and, at the start of the offensive salvo, began to reshape his form. Long fiery feathers began to rapidly sprout on parts of his dark cloak. Súlin again exerted great effort to change the air particles around the flying company into a stellar mirror. For a while, they escaped unseen, and the enemies’ projectiles missed them by many swords. It almost seemed they had reached a safe distance when Ignis finished his transformation into a fiery Phoenix; suddenly his wings shone through the mirror shield. Immediately, a new wave of spells descended on the group. The shield rippled again; some cried out in pain. Omerin and Arsia cast angry, reproachful looks at the Phoenix. The giant bird didn’t wait and, with a powerful flap of his flaming wings, flew sharply into the air, aiming high above his companions. Several explosions followed his tail feathers as well, but to no avail. Ignis gained altitude and vanished high out of range. The levitating company finally gained more speed and, with the shield healed, finally reached a safe distance from the enemies’ weapons, unseen. The tops of the first trees were nearby, but Súlin extended the cloud path further into the heart of the dark forest so as not to leave an easy trail. Meanwhile, Ignis set off in a different direction than his comrades’ destination, so that after confusing the enemy observers, he could quietly meet the others under the forest canopy.

Chapter XVI: The Midnight King, or the Secret of the Stream’s Surface

When the sky reveals its face
When angels lose their holy grace
When the last hope shall expire
… the black curtain falls into the fire.

When the moon meets the earth below
When the world turns inside out so
When our five shall fall and die
… we shall miss the Moon in the sky.

When the Mother of Seas sweeps the peaks
When the forest in ash and ruin speaks
When the city walls shall tumble down
… we have failed our word and crown.

When the lamps of night and city fade
When darkness holds the world in its shade
When voices and songs shall cease to be
… we are lost in great misery.

When dreams and wishes are no more
When the world is rotten to the core
When the world is consumed by the night
… our bodies are dead and out of sight.

— Vision of Night Butterfly

They met in a small damp clearing somewhere in the heart of the unknown forest. This forest was part of a world whose strange laws they were only beginning to dimly understand. The banks of the streams were mirrored in the silvery glow of the moon, their silken surfaces appearing far too calm, as if they were the glassy eyes of an enormous mud giant whose body was the earth, hair the trees, and fur various twisted bushes and stumps hiding in the shadows painted by the hands of a mad and fear-inducing moon.námého lesa. Ten les byl součástí světa, jehož prapodivným zákonům teprve nejasně přicházeli na kloub. Ve stříbřitém lesku měsíce se zrcadlily břehy potůčků, jejichž hedvábné hladiny se zdály být až příliš klidné, jako by byly skelnýma očima ohromného bahenního obra, jehož tělo byla zem, vlasy stromy a chlupy nejrůznější pokroucené keře a pařezy, které se skrývaly ve stínech malovaných rukou šíleného a strach nahánějícího měsíce.

Their steps led them away from the dangerous place. After a while, as they approached the surface of one of the streams, Arsia stopped thoughtfully and raised her left hand. The small procession stood silently behind her. Arsia’s gaze slid intently over the surface of one of the many streams that had for some time been causing an inexplicable suspicion in the group.

“These streams,” Arsia spoke, “are not like the ones we know from Qurand. Their rippled surfaces calm too quickly, and I feel I see an unknown hateful gaze watching us.”

“Let us find out, then, who is hidden behind that gaze,” Omerin said boldly and stepped toward the shimmering surface of the stream. Arsia took a combat stance and pointed her long staff of light wood at the spot where Omerin was looking at her reflection in the stream’s surface.

First, Omerin saw her own face in the moon’s reflection. Then the image began to change. Both sorceresses were looking face to face at an unknown man. For a moment, they fell into the depths of his dark eyes. Although the man’s portrait constantly shifted to conceal his essence, Omerin overcame the powerful pressure in her mind and revealed that she was looking into the face of a ruler. She tried to use her magical abilities to learn as much as possible about the unknown man, but he was an opponent beyond her strength. Just as she was convinced she had seen through him, she understood that she was only recognizing one of many possible forms that the unknown man reflected in his hundreds of mirrors.

“Who are you? Why are you following us?” Omerin addressed him.

The outlines of his appearance soon became clear. They revealed the tall figure of a man of indeterminate age, sitting on a silvery throne. He had black hair streaked with white threads, a sharp nose, and a mouth tight with concentration. An ash-grey robe with an edge lined with green ornaments flowed from his shoulders.

After a short pause, he spoke in a deep voice underlaid with a metallic echo: “I am he who broke the seal.”

Then Omerin felt his searching touch in her mind and, with a final burst of strength, repelled it. The expression in his eyes flashed with change, and his face contorted with anger. In the next second, he lunged as if to penetrate the surface. Omerin staggered back in alarm. Arsia, however, had anticipated his intentions and ruffled the surface of the stream with a strong strike of her staff. Streams of water splashed through the air, drenching those standing nearby. The eyes of Ignis and Butterfly narrowed in alarm. In a fraction of a second, with one movement, Ignis pushed back his traveler’s cloak and drew the string of his fire-bow, aiming a glowing arrow into the turbulent surface. His hand, however, immediately dropped, for the apparition of the Midnight King had already been banished. They all realized they owed this to Arsia.

“If it weren’t for you,” Súlin addressed Arsia, “we might already be facing an enemy whose abilities we know very little about,” ending his short speech with an appreciative nod. Immediately after, however, he added, turning to the others: “Now we should not tarry long.”

Omerin knelt on the ground for a while longer with her head in her hands to shake off the terrifying image that had been consuming her mind moments before. While Súlin summoned a light breeze to ruffle the mirror-like surfaces of the ominous streams, Night Butterfly slowly approached Omerin, stroked her hair, spoke several quiet soothing words, and helped her to her feet.

Then the company set out on the march again. Súlin went first, letting a soft whitish glow illuminate a circle of several steps around him to avoid the stumps and hollows that lay in wait for them in the dark. The forest was silent, perhaps too silent, interrupted here and there by the hooting of an owl, the rustling of a tree canopy, or—at worst—the bubbling of one of the dark streams. The group tried to avoid these as much as possible. It seemed to them they had already been marching for many hours when finally the streams began to thin and the sky between the thinning branches of the trees began to slowly lighten. During the journey, the legs of some had begun to fail, weary from the long pilgrimage without rest, and Omerin more than once caught herself closing her eyelids, heavy with the fatigue of the previous day’s upheavals and this aging night. With the birth of dawn, they arrived together at a small clearing on high ground to finally give their aching and weary limbs some rest in peace.

Chapter XVII: Finding Jezar

The Return
When the weight of death pressed you, consuming your light,
Then the mountain dryad wept over your body in the night,
The wind wizard charmed your breath back to the sun,
The fire sorcerer gave his spark, and the healing was begun,
The half-elf uttered a radiant, holy spell,
Why is it not joyful…
this rising from hell?

With the last notes of Ignis’s hymn, which he dedicated to the noon sun, the dreams of all the pilgrims dissolved. When they awoke, they saw him sitting cross-legged on a small rise at the edge of the clearing, smiling calmly. He was the only one who had not let sleep overcome him and had guarded the others. Veils of mist rising from the mysterious forest floated in a gentle wind in the sky.

What would the next day of their journey bring them?

The company advanced in silence, Omerin leading the way. Her step was tentative and unsure, deep concentration reflected in her face. She had managed to catch Jezar’s tracks with her mind, and they were gradually directing her to a specific place. They continued uphill for some time, occasionally pushing through low bushes, unaware of where Omerin was leading them.

Suddenly they came to the edge of a steep slope. About three hundred steps ahead, it touched the foot of the hill they had just climbed. Halfway up the slope, covered by forest growth, they unexpectedly discovered a large ancient stone building.

“It resembles that mill,” Arsia whispered, as they cautiously approached the massive walls of the house.

In close proximity to the building, they noticed a strange phenomenon: small and large cracked stones lay scattered around the house, and in some places the ground was cracked. Several uprooted trees with singed crowns touched an enormous stone landslide that was piling up in a rocky gorge.

They all felt a strong disruption of the natural energy paths of this environment.

“This place witnessed something horrific; the forces that clashed here did not stop even before a ten-fathom rocky massif.”

Then Súlin spoke what none of those present suspected: “Deep at the bottom of the landslide, a man’s body is trapped.”

Omerin turned pale and managed to force out: “It’s Jezar.”

Everyone turned their questioning gazes to Súlin.

“I think you are the only one who possesses such power that could resist this obstacle fate has prepared for us,” Ignis spoke.

Súlin stepped away from the others, approached the edge of the landslide, pulled his cloak tight to his body, and immersed himself in thought. His standing figure from a distance resembled a sculpture by an ancient master; he stood motionless, unaware of the passage of time. His stillness was broken when he slowly raised both hands, palms to the ground. The features of his face tensed, his palms trembled imperceptibly. He was obviously struggling with an enormous weight. The earth trembled; several stones from the upper layer of the landslide broke loose and rolled to his feet. However, the huge mass of rocky blocks, apparently lying in the bottom layer, did not move. The mage exhaled deeply and wiped sweat from his forehead. He sat down tiredly and bowed his head to his chest. The others watched him from a distance with suspense, but no one dared to speak. When he raised his head after a while, his face was calm and his gaze clear. He straightened up, narrowed his eyes, and again reached out his palms toward the stone rampart. For a moment, it seemed his effort had failed again.

Suddenly they all felt the touch of a light breeze on their temples, which slowly grew stronger. In the place where the wizard stood, they observed a cloud slowly rising above the pile of stones. Its edge was golden, and silvery threads passed through the center. The movements of the cloud followed the wizard’s gestures. Then the glowing object stopped over a flatter spot with remnants of grass and slowly descended to the ground. The moment it touched the ground, it began to change its nature. The silver nebula transformed and took on the outlines of a human body.

Jezar was changed beyond recognition. Deep wounds yawned in his face; blood seeped through many places on his torn cloak. Omerin bent over the limp body and grasped Jezar’s wrist. His pulse was irregular and thready.

“He doesn’t have a single whole bone in his body,” she said desperately.

Súlin quickly approached her and tried to catch Jezar’s breath: “His breath is weakening, we don’t have much time.”

In the next moment, he knelt by the lying knight, placed his mouth to his lips, and tried to return life to him with his own breath. Then he raised his head: “His boat’s prow is touching the far shore. I don’t know if it’s too late for Jezar to return.” With these grave words, the last red rays of the setting sun vanished.

Omerin did not give up. She moved her palms along the wretched body of the fallen knight, whispering magical incantations. She watered his wounds with her tears.

Meanwhile, Night Butterfly quickly surveyed the surroundings, and when he returned, he spoke gloomily: “If there is no one here with more medical experience than I, it will be at least a week before Jezar says a first word—if he speaks at all. The shroud of night has fallen upon us. We should stay at this disturbing place for as short a time as possible. We have no idea who might suddenly appear here.”

“Be patient, friend,” Omerin replied quietly, kneeling with downcast eyes, stroking the knight’s head. “It is clear to all of us that we are not safe here. But it is also obvious that moving a person whose soul floats between life and death is like walking on thin ice. Súlin is already at the end of his strength.” Immediately she looked at the scarred and damaged face and added in a sorrowful but determined tone: “We cannot afford to lose Jezar, even at the cost of our own safety.”

“One more thing occurred to me,” Arsia spoke into the heavy silence, “I could still try to create a temporal envelope around Jezar. This will cause time inside to accelerate greatly.”

“That is an excellent idea, Arsia,” Ignis said approvingly and smiled at her. Immediately he stood up in silence and unbuckled a waterskin from his waist. He sat on one of the larger boulders and poured some water into his palm. While Arsia uttered incantations to the lying man, Ignis’s palms glowed with a bright white light.

The clasped palms of the fiery being illuminated Jezar’s face, which had until then rested in the darkness of the night. In them, he bore precious Fire Water. A liquid composed of a balanced pair of opposites, the bearer of life. His hands sprinkled the area around Jezar’s navel. The others were speechless in awe. The substance flowed down like liquid gold. It seemed as if the liquid did not just remain on the surface but partially permeated deeper into the body. Finally, Ignis placed his palms to the knight’s mouth and asked Súlin to hold his mouth open. Then he introduced the ethereal liquid inside. Jezar swallowed slowly and heavily. When the fire mage finished his work, he sat with Arsia close to Jezar and began to warm him with his palms. The others were not idle either.

With the rising of the first stars in the clear sky, Jezar’s previously grey skin began to lighten, taking on a more natural color. His breathing gradually deepened and his body temperature rose.

They all bravely fought sleep. Night Butterfly every so often scanned the surrounding growth and the strange house towering behind them like a giant ghost with a searching gaze. In concentrated care, they spent the whole night over their companion, which was all the longer because they did not relax their vigilance for a moment against the shadows flickering in the surrounding forest.

Chapter XVIII: A Shelter for Jezar

The singing of birds in the treetops announced the arrival of the sun. The sky turned pink, and the first rays touched the crystal dew drops hanging on the grass. When rays of light entered the darkened valley, a broken, raspy whisper sounded in the silence, gradually growing louder. The fatigue of the sleepless night immediately fell from the pilgrims, and their faces turned in surprise toward the lying man. The knight opened his eyes. No one had hoped they would manage to call Jezar back from the realm of shadows so soon.

“I gave the child… to a powerful spirit and his company…,” he gasped, “seek the child…”

Arsia bent to his face. “Where do the spirits you speak of dwell?” she asked urgently.

But Jezar fell silent. His sight was clouded, and it was clear he was struggling with delusions. After a while, calm returned to his face; he took a deep breath and answered: “The spirits come from the mountains and return there. I met them in a forest temple… at the foot of this hill.”

Every word exhausted Jezar; his forehead was beaded with sweat, and the contorted expression of his face testified that he was overcoming inhuman pain. “I thank you for my life, but I cannot be a burden to you. Leave me somewhere in the peace of the forest… when the time comes, I will find you.”

Sadness entered the eyes of his friends and glistened with tears. They knew there was no other way.

They looked down into the gorge, where the river’s surface shimmered darkly. “We must carry Jezar as far as possible from whatever lurks in the valley,” said Omerin, “I feel that the consciousness of the forest near the river current is immersed in deep sleep and malice.”

Then they chose from the broken branches a sound pair that was long enough to make a stretcher for Jezar out of them and Ignis’s cloak. It was not easy to carry Jezar almost to the top of the hill, but it was the safest place they could leave him. Along the way, they noticed the peculiarities of the landscape: solitary hills whose shoulders sloped more steeply into deep valleys with a network of rivulets and streams. The tops of the hills were bare, and the forest growth ended about thirty fathoms below their peaks. Pines and spruces grew here and there, but also deciduous trees. As they walked among them, Omerin often reached out her hand to them to get as close as possible to their consciousness. Then she spoke gravely:

“This forest lost its shepherd very, very long ago. There is no one here to teach the trees anything. Most are corrupted by the local water; it is a bitter and unawakened forest.”

When they all stopped, Omerin asked the others for time, which was lacking, to find at least one tree that was not slumbering as hard as the rest of the forest. After a while of searching, she reached a moderately old oak. She stood by it, placed her palm on the wrinkled bark of the trunk, and began to sing. Her song gradually awakened the consciousness of the oak. The melody rose from the roots to the crown and penetrated all the leaves. For a moment, the awakened consciousness of the tree and the consciousness of the dryad unified. Meanwhile, Súlin and Ignis laid the stretcher at the roots of the tree, stepped back, and listened to the song of the forest. When Omerin Green-Eyes finished singing, a light tremor passed through the oak leaves, and the dense branches gently leaned toward Jezar as if to embrace him.

The dryad turned to her companions with narrowed eyes and said: “This tree has accepted Jezar into the forest world.” Then she knelt, whispered a few words of farewell to the sleeping man, and pressed a small rainbow ball into his hand.

Chapter XIX: The Forest Temple

The steps of the pilgrims lengthened to reach the goal that, despite all their efforts, still eluded them as soon as possible. Above their heads, at a great height above the darkened and twisted crowns of the trees, huge white clouds floated, between which the noon sun only occasionally shone through. The lower they descended, the more oppressive a feeling they had from the surrounding vegetation. They felt they were already near the very foot of the mountain when suddenly their path was crossed by a small trail, stretching like a contour line along its foot. It wound inconspicuously from the north, from a place where the forest was thicker, to the thinner and lighter forest in the south.

They stopped to consult about the further path. Arsia turned her face to the north and became motionless for a moment. “I feel a strong energy node among the trees about a mile from here. Such strong nodes are always guarded.” “Dark trees create a circular Boundary around that place,” Omerin added. “That is the place where we are heading,” she added.

“There is one more place of power; it lies further south of here,” Súlin noted, “we should not miss it before we cross the Boundary. I hear harmonious tones coming from there.”

The others did not hesitate and, after Súlin’s words, turned their steps south. After about half an hour’s walk, they arrived at a small sunny glade that stretched a few swords from the trail. In the low growth, where daisies bloomed, Omerin noticed strange tracks. In a close row behind each other, they resembled a firm chain, and it was clear that the forest was a familiar environment for the beings that left them. They led northwards.

“They walk behind each other to hide their number, even when they are in a hurry, as these were,” said Omerin, as she tried in vain to read a more precise message from the tracks, but her intuition confirmed that those who were at this place before them were indeed the spirits of the forest. Then the dryad turned to Súlin and said: “I suspect they are the ones we are looking for. It seems they passed through here at dawn.”

“We will try to learn more,” the mage said in a low voice and formulated an aerial message in his mind: “Our fate is linked to the life of the child you saved. Under all circumstances, we must connect with you.”

Then he marked the path for the aerial messengers and waited for their return. They returned sooner than he expected, for the densely woven roof forming the Boundary of the forest would not let them through. “My messengers have failed; from now on we must not stop,” with those words Súlin stepped out decisively and the others followed him in silence.

The rhythm of their steps, despite all effort, slowed down. The more they approached the Boundary of the forest, the more they encountered greater snares. Thorny bushes wrapped around their legs; they often stumbled over the protruding roots of darkened trees. Sunbeams almost did not penetrate the roof of the forest, as if they had suddenly found themselves in a dark dungeon full of poisonous snakes. With difficulty they pushed through thicker and thicker bushes and did not even notice that one of them was missing.

“Where is Ignis?” Arsia cried out in terror. They spotted him at the last moment. Almost his entire body was densely wrapped in the green tentacles of branches, and from a distance, he was indistinguishable from a spreading tree. Súlin promptly jumped forward with his sword drawn, which glowed with white light. As soon as the stream of light touched the thorny arms of the forest monster, they crackled and retreated into the darkness.

“Thank you, Súlin,” Ignis breathed gratefully. “I expected danger to come from the roof of the forest, but the forest monster attacked from the growth springing from the ground,” after those words, he severed the last shoots of the deadly bush with his flaming sword and stepped after Súlin.

After a few steps, a bright glow blinded them. Eight ancient and noble giants created the circular space of the Forest Temple. Light flowed through the golden crowns and fell on the obelisk in its center.

At the first glance, they recognized it as a sacrificial altar. What they saw on it, however, was an image of horror. A torn child’s swaddle lay in a pool of blood. Darkness fell before their eyes. “Is this how our pilgrimage was to end?!” Súlin’s mind froze.

Omerin recovered first, approached the stone block, and reached out her trembling palms over the place of death. Into the hopeless silence, her voice rang out clearly: “This blood does not belong to a human. It is the blood of a predator.”

“Look!” Ignis called out in surprise, “here the tracks continue to the beech bower.”

After those words, he ran toward the young beech forest. Everyone followed him with quick steps. Night Butterfly turned in haste and picked up the swaddle from the stone altar. Although they said nothing, they knew for certain that this place had a hidden meaning and would some day call them back.

The company ran through the beech forest without stopping; the beech trunks were smooth and clear, they smelled a pleasantly bitter scent, and in their consciousness, they heard the Beat of the Forest. Only the dryad had been listening to it since the moment they crossed the Boundary. They felt strong, as if the sap of the trees pulsed in their veins and the sacred hymn of the forest penetrated their souls.

In one moment, they all realized they had stepped out of the territory of the Forest Temple. Shadow Arkagas remained far behind them…