Once More Into the Dark

The Darkwood – Earlywinter, Year 3081 After Doom

Dann leaned forward, patting the side of Drunir's neck, the touch of the horse's hair soft against his fingers. He could feel the apprehension radiating from Drunir. Those kinds of things were easy to sense in animals: emotions. It was part of the reason Dann figured he understood animals more than people most of the time; they were always clear about what they felt and what they wanted. And right then, as they trotted down the sloping hill, the sun high in the cold sky, an endless ocean of dark green before them, Dann couldn't help but agree with Drunir's unease.

The Darkwood didn't look as menacing as it had the first time Dann had been there – not arriving in the dead of night had a lot to do with that – but still, it wasn't a particularly inviting scene. Even in the light of day, the dark forest still sat beneath a blanket of greyish-black thunderclouds, streaks of lightning tearing through the skies above the dense canopy. Dann had heard the stories, of course. The voidpsawn. The monsters. The living forest that consumed human flesh.

He hadn't spent long enough within the confines of the woodland to know truth from fiction, but in the short time he had spent beneath the forest's aphotic canopy, he had taken an Urak's spear through his shoulder – which didn't exactly lead to fond memories. Vaeril had healed that up nicely. But of course, the Fade had ruined that. Dann lifted his hand, touching his fingers to the leather of his coat, tracing over his collarbone and up along his shoulder where the Fade's lightning had scarred his flesh.

"Are you well?"

"Hmm?" Dann shook himself from his thoughts as Therin drew up beside him, his hands resting either side of his horse's neck. That was a question Dann needed to ask Therin – Dann loved asking Therin questions, just to see the irritation on his face – why did Therin ride horses when the other elves didn't? He had intended to ask Alea, but he was only just beginning to get back onto her good side. It would be better to tread carefully in that regard.

"You look troubled." Therin raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm not exactly excited about coming back to this place. It didn't go so well for me last time, did it?" Dann glanced down towards his shoulder, pouting.

"How's it feeling?"

"Not too bad," Dann said with a weak smile, tapping his fingers against the outside of his coat. "Can't feel a thing where the scars are, but I've got full motion."

Therin turned down his bottom lip. "That's not bad at all. You're lucky. Few people walk away from a Fade's lightning."

"You know, I'd been searching for a word to describe myself recently, and 'lucky' is just what I'd been looking for."

Both Dann and Therin let out a laugh. Therin shook his head as he looked back at the Darkwood before them. Hearing Therin laugh was a rare thing – it didn't quite match the joy of irritating the elf, though.

"Are you all right?" Dann couldn't help but notice the shift in Therin's demeanour as the elf looked out at the woodland. An uneasiness had set over the group since Lyrei and Aeson's argument near Argona. Therin, for his part, had become quieter than usual. But Lyrei hadn't spoken a single word.

Therin nodded, giving a weak smile. "All I've ever wanted was to do right by my people. But what is right is almost never easy." Therin looked towards Alea and Lyrei, who walked in silence about twenty feet ahead, their hoods drawn, green cloaks rippling in the wind, white wood bows strapped across their backs. Aeson rode beside the two elves, with Baldon walking beside him. The Angan's willowy fur-covered arms swept back and forth, his legs covering large swaths of ground in long strides. Dann still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the creature. Every word that passed Baldon's lips sounded as though it was foreign to his tongue. One thing Dann knew he would never get used to was waking up and seeing a wolf the size of a war horse sitting beside the campfire.

"Therin," Dann said, pulling his gaze from the shapeshifter, "the night Lyrei and Aeson argued, what was that word Lyrei called you – Astyr… Astyr something?"

"Astyrlína," Therin said with a sigh, his gaze not shifting from Alea and Lyrei. "It is the name given to those who retreated to Lynalion, leaving the rest of the continent to their own devices. It means 'Faithless'."

Dann nodded to himself, gazing towards Aeson, who sat silent in his saddle. Up ahead, the trees of the Darkwood seemed to grow taller the closer they got, casting a shadow over the land before them. They had to be at least a hundred feet tall. "And what Aeson said? What did that mean? Lyrei hasn't spoken since."

"Aeson said something he should not have." Therin let out a sigh. He was flipping a small, round-backed knife along his fingers. "Din haydria er fyrir. He told her that her honour is forfeit."

"That's it?" Dann looked at Therin in bewilderment. "She hasn't spoken in nearly two weeks because he said she has no honour? If I acted like that, I wouldn't ever be speaking. I'd be a mute. Silent as a drowned frog."

Therin raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that would be a bad thing?" A smile touched his lips before fading. "Honour means something different to elves. It is the cornerstone of everything we are. To be told your honour is forfeit is akin to being told that you do not exist. If Alea were to say it to Lyrei, it would hurt, but she could disregard it with rational thought. But from Aeson, a Rakina whose honour she believes to be above her own, it is a hammer blow. For a man of such honour would never say something of that magnitude unless it were true."

"But… why does she remain silent? What does it gain?"

Therin laughed, patting his horse's neck. "Do you ever run out of questions?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?"

"Yes."

"Well then." Dann hadn't realised until after he had spoken that his analogy made little to no sense, but he was committed already. Better just to see it through.

Therin sighed, shaking his head. "Lyrei is… reflecting. For lack of a better word. Our people call it Holmdúr. It means to search within oneself. She must think on Aeson's words, decide whether she has acted without honour, and if so, find a way to regain it."

Dann nodded, his enthusiasm for the conversation waning as the shadow of the Darkwood swept over them, the sun's light retreating as the forest engulfed them. Dann straightened in the saddle, shivering. "I hate this place…"

Nothing had changed since the last time Dann had set foot within the Darkwood's bounds. It took no more than a few minutes for the faint glow of the sun to disappear entirely, absolute darkness taking its place. And with the darkness came the scents and sounds of the ancient woodland. The heavy aroma of earth and damp, accented by what Dann knew could only be the smell of animal shit. The creaking and groaning of branches meshed with the rushing wind, the snap and crack of twigs, the rustling of leaves. He broached no complaints when two orbs of white light formed in front of him, one floating beside Aeson at the head of the group, the other floating to Dann and Therin's left. The pure white light from the orbs – baldír, Dann was fairly sure they were called – lent the forest an otherworldly glow, casting shadows in all directions, illuminating beady eyes that hid in the darkness. In this particular case, otherworldly was not a positive trait.

As the forest grew denser, the undergrowth rising high, gnarled roots twisting and lifting from the forest floor, the group dismounted, leading their horses by the reins. Alea and Lyrei led, moving through the forest with ease. Dann had a feeling the two elves would have been able to find their way through the woodland even if they were blindfolded and bound. Such was the effortless grace with which they moved, never showing even the slightest hesitation as they chose their path.

Barely a moment passed where Dann couldn't hear the snap of twigs and branches in the darkness, the rustle of trodden leaves, the low growls of creatures he could not see but knew to fear. Whether or not the stories were true, Dann was certain that Uraks were not the scariest things lurking in the depths of this woodland.

"How much farther to Aravell?" Aeson asked, dropping back beside Dann and Therin.

"Two full days of walking, at least," Therin replied, light from the baldír causing his silver hair to scintillate as though it were a gleaming coat of mail. "We should rest soon. Alea, Lyrei, and I can take shifts on guard. We should make it to the first line of Nithrandír by the time we grow weary tomorrow. It would not be wise to be caught deeper in the Aravell without their protection."

"Agreed," Aeson said with a nod and a sigh. He ran his tongue across his teeth, then marched on ahead, calling to Alea and Lyrei.

"Do I want to know?" Dann asked, a shiver running through him at the idea of anything that might strike fear in the hearts of Therin and Aeson – an elven mage and a centuries old warrior who had once been bonded to a dragon.

Therin shook his head. "If I say run, just run."

"Therin, that doesn't make me feel any better."

"It wasn't meant to."

Dann sat on the thick, unearthed root of a nearby tree, his elbows rested on his knees, his head bent over, eyes closed. Sweat streaked his forehead, rolling down his cheeks and dripping from the tip of his nose.

Hours had passed before the group had finally stopped to set up camp for the night. How many hours, he wasn't sure. Tracking the passage of time was near impossible without the rise and fall of the sun. If he were to go with his gut, he would have guessed five or six, but it just as easily could have been three or ten. Keeping up with Aeson, Baldon, and the three elves was no mean feat. His lungs felt as though they had been lit on fire. With a heavy sigh, he lifted his elbows from his knees and leaned backwards, stretching out the knotted lumps of muscles along his spine.

He glanced at Drunir, who stood with the other horses, happily drinking from a brook that cut through the forest floor at the edge of the camp. The horse was a fine animal. Fifteen hands, maybe fifteen and a half, with a black mane and a black coat dappled with grey and white – a colouring Dann had never seen before. The horse was quick, powerful, and even as it stood by the brook in the heart of the Darkwood, Dann could see little fear in its eyes or in the language of its body. Unease, yes, but no fear. Aeson's and Therin's horses moved around anxiously, unsettled, their ears flicking back and forth, the occasional snort leaving their nostrils. The creatures had every right to be fearful. This place set an unease into Dann's bones.

A few feet away, by a small clearing at the base of a tree, Baldon sat with his fur-covered legs crossed, his arms resting in his lap; he had been sitting like that since they set up camp. From what Aeson and Therin had told Dann, the Angan could communicate with their kin from over a hundred miles away, and as long as there were enough of them in a long chain, they could extend that distance endlessly, like a chain of messengers. Dann didn't understand how that could even be possible, but then again, he didn't understand most things that had happened in the past year.

How in the gods did I get here?Dann turned his gaze from Baldon, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, slicking it back over his head. If someone had asked him a year ago where he thought he would have been now, roaming through the Darkwood with three elves, a fallen Draleid, and a half-man-half-wolf thing in search of Calen, who was now also a Draleid wouldn't have even been a contender. It sounded ridiculous. Nobody had believed him that time he had seen a horse with a horn growing from its head or the time he had dropped a tankard only to catch it on his foot without spilling a drop, so why in the gods would anyone ever believe this story?

Dann jerked backwards as a fire burst into life before him, casting a warm orange glow over the forest floor. "A little warning next time?"

Therin sat on the ground beside the fire, to Dann's right. There was a smug look on the elf's face, as usual. When Dann had first met Therin properly, after they had gone back to The Glade, the elf had been colder than a naked morning in the snow. Dann could count on one finger the number of times the elf had smiled. But since the battle at Belduar, Therin had seemed… warmer. He even told jokes. Not many, but some. Progress was progress.

"Are we sure Berona is where Calen is going?" Dann stared into the newly born fire before lifting his gaze towards Therin. He had asked the question four or five times already, but it wouldn't hurt to ask again. They had been riding across Illyanara like headless chickens since leaving the Lodhar Mountains, and all Baldon had been able to tell them was the general direction Calen had been travelling when he had left Drifaien.

Therin looked towards Aeson, who sat beside the fire, his legs folded beneath him. Alea and Lyrei were off gathering fresh fruit and berries – they knew the forest flora better than any of them.

"We're as sure as we can be." Aeson stared absently at something on the ground. He lifted his head. "According to Baldon, Asius and Aneera helped Calen and the others – Erik amongst them – escape from Drifaien. They then boarded a ship heading north, around the Arkalen coast. My contacts in Drifaien informed Aneera that Calen was intending to rescue someone."

"Rist."

Aeson nodded. "When Rist was first taken, we suspected he would be brought to the High Tower in Berona to be trained by the Circle. If I were to place a bet, it would be that Calen is heading there."

"Then that's where we go."

"It is. If we can cut through the Aravell, we may reach them before they make it to the Burnt Lands." Aeson let out a sigh, and Dann could see the man's jaw clenching. "I don't understand how Erik could be so senseless. There is more at stake than one man's life. If something happens to Calen, then all that we've worked for could be destroyed."

A knot twisted in Dann's chest. All he wanted was to find Calen and Rist. If Calen was trying to get to Rist, then finding Calen could kill two birds with one stone – without the killing, of course. Dann's only other worry, though, was what Aeson would do if they found Calen. Dann didn't think for a second that Aeson would let them travel north to look for Rist, never mind travelling through the Burnt Lands. That was a bridge they would have to cross when they came to it. For now, Dann just needed to focus on not dying. Which he figured would not be as easy as it sounded.

He looked up at the sound of rustling leaves to see Alea and Lyrei stepping into the light of the fire, their arms full of strange fruits and berries, a bulging sack over Alea's shoulder.

Alea greeted them all as she sat beside Dann. But Lyrei said nothing, her gaze never leaving the forest floor.

Silence descended as they ate, the flickering light of the fire casting eerie shadows around the camp. Dann would get little sleep that night, the sounds of the forest serving only to fuel his restless thoughts. The snapping of branches. The howls, the snarls, the whispers that drifted on the wind.

Brushing imaginary dirt off his trouser legs, Dann rose to his feet. "I'll take first watch."