Tarun stood with crossed arms next to the wagon at the edge of the clearing, trying to keep his temper under control as the rest of Aluanna’s group gradually made their way in to the campsite. When the sorceress and her three satyrs had introduced themselves, Tarun had thought that just the four of them had driven off the attack of the phantoms. He soon realized though that they were just the first of a much larger band that followed soon behind.

The fire in the middle of the campsite was now well-fed and burning noisily, but despite the bright flames Tarun had a hard time counting exactly how many individuals made up the gathering in front of him. He estimated that there was a little more than twenty members of the group, but so many of them were either dancing, playing musical instruments, or otherwise actively moving about, that he couldn’t quite keep them all straight. Part of Tarun was glad to see the cheerful transformation that had come over the clearing in such a short amount of time. Another part of him was indignant that anyone could try to celebrate so jovially when something so foul was still lurking somewhere in the dark.

Tarun’s arm stung and his head pounded as he thought about the grinning face of Laronius. The pale villain had said he was a servant of Vdekshi, and that his master had invited Tarun and Shon to his stronghold because he was “very interested in meeting the former companions of Krall.” At the mention of Krall’s name, Laronius’ grin had widened menacingly, and a suppressed rage had exploded in Tarun’s chest. Tarun had tried to attack Laronius, but the effort proved to be as futile for Tarun as it was entertaining for Laronius.

Over and over, Tarun’s mind replayed the look on Laronius’ face when he said Krall’s name, and the memory made bile rise in his throat. How dare he even think to use Krall’s name! Tarun considered that Laronius must be as unlike Krall as any being could be. While the orc’s skin had been rough with scars and calluses, Laronius was pale and unblemished. Krall’s voice had been deep and gravely, but his words were direct, instructive, and encouraging. Laronius had a voice that was smooth and polished, but with a tone of mockery and words that contradicted his expression. Perhaps most importantly, Krall had hated serving a master like Vdekshi, while Laronius seemed to revel in it.

Lost in his thoughts of rage and disgust, Tarun was somewhat taken aback when the satyr with brown hair walked up to him, lightly strumming some stringed instrument. “Why the sour expression?” Toj asked in a voice loud enough that the whole gathering heard him. “You survived an encounter with Laronius and a whole swarm of phantoms tonight. You have every reason to celebrate with us. Isn’t that right?” A cheer went up from the band as Toj strummed loudly on his instrument.

“I’ll feel much more like celebrating once Laronius is dead,” said Tarun, and the gathering became much quieter.

“Well then you’re in luck, my dark-skinned friend,” replied Toj, still strumming away. “Because that pale devil was dead before you even met him tonight!” There was a burst of laughter, making Tarun feel somewhat self-conscious.

“Already dead?” asked Shon, as he made his way through the crowd to stand next to Tarun. “Are you saying that Laronius is some kind of zombie or something? Because he was pretty eloquent for a reanimated corpse.”

“Oh he’s no corpse,” said Roj, taking a break from playing his flute, “but he’s certainly not alive. That necromancer drained all the life out of him and replaced it with dark magic. He’s a vampire.”

Shon shivered. “My old teacher used to tell us stories from her people’s folklore about vampires who once roamed the tundra near her village,” said Shon. “She would tell us all the horrible powers that the vampires had, but she would always end the stories by telling us that it was just something that grandmothers in her country would tell children to scare them when they were naughty. But she forgot that I could hear her thoughts when she was telling the stories, and I knew she was actually scared.”

“Well I don’t know anything about the vampires where you teacher comes from,” said Toj, “but if they’re anything like Laronius, then she was right to be scared.”

“You seem to know a lot about him,” said Tarun.

“Yeah well let’s just say we’ve had more close calls with Laronius than we’d like,” replied Roj with a snort. “That’s what happens when you patrol the forest every night like we do.”

“Wait, you mean you people party like this every night?” Shon asked. “I thought we had just gotten lucky that you all just happened to be celebrating something when we got attacked tonight.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it, wizard,” said a melodic voice. Everyone quieted down as Aluanna moved from the center of the revelries to join the conversation. “This is my father’s forest and it is under my protection.”

“Your father’s forest?” Tarun replied. “Is he some kind of landlord or regional noble?”

“Nothing so mundane,” Aluanna responded. “My father is Lord of the Wood, Master of the Wild, and King of the Forest.”

“I don’t understand,” said Tarun. “I thought there were no more kings in this land. How can there be a king of the forest?”

“Then sit down, traveler,” Aluanna commanded. “Uncross your arms and open your ears, and I will share with you my story.”

As if on cue, all the members of Aluanna’s band sat on the ground, directing their full attention to the sorceress. Tarun and Shon also sat down, and as he sat, Tarun caught a glimpse of Seth for the first time since he had finally woken up. Seth’s eyes were wide and seem to be transfixed on Aluanna. One of the members of the band handed the sorceress a violin and bow.

“Aren’t you going to accompany her?” Shon whispered to Toj, Roj, and Soj, who were all seated nearby.

“Most of the time, yes,” Toj whispered back. “But the Song of Aluanna is best performed as a solo. I think you’ll see why.”

Aluanna brought the bow to the strings of her violin and the instrument let forth a long, clear note. She pulled the bow back and forth across the strings, creating a melody that everyone in attendance seemed to hold their breath to hear. As her bow danced across the instrument, her body began to sway with the rhythm, and it appeared that the whole forest was swaying with her.

Tarun looked around and noticed that the flames of the campfire seemed to be waving in place as if made of brightly colored ribbons. The stars appeared larger than usual and spiraled gracefully overhead. Everything in the clearing appeared soft and slightly out of focus, with the exception of Aluanna who appeared before them all in crystal clarity and brilliance. Tarun was vaguely aware that she was weaving some spell or enchantment on them, but he sensed no danger.

After finishing her prelude and setting the desired atmosphere, she opened her mouth, and began to sing.

Once an elf lord went a wand’ring

To and fro among his realm

Searching for some secret solace

‘Mong the birch and yew and elm

In his grief, his senses faltered

And his eyes saw things unseen

What a tragic lonely figure

Was a king without his queen

As the elf lord wandered hither

Through his forest kingdom wide

A young wood nymph saw his weeping

And with tenderness, she spied

She knew not from whence his grief came

But she promised to herself

She’d forsake all other ventures

And tend to the broken elf

Sev’ral years the nymph did follow

Out of sight and out of mind

Never fully comprehending

What the elf lord sought to find

Then one night came forth the answer

Crying out while he yet slept

For the wife who he’d seen perish

Bitterly the elf lord wept

Then the magic in the wood nymph

Glowing like a sunshine gleam

Sent her instantly inside him

And she entered in his dream

For her shape was ever changing

As do all wood nymphs in life

And the magic then transformed her

To the image of his wife

When the elvish lord awoken

He beheld with tear-soaked eyes

That his dear wife stood before him

As the wood nymph in disguise

He cared not how it could happen

For his grief had turned to joy

And within a year the couple

Had conceived a baby boy

This was all the king had wanted

With his queen and now a son

The boy’s eyes were green like clover

And he loved to dance and run

But the elvish prince was wild

Not befitting elvish lords

For just like his lovely mother

The young prince possessed no words

As the elf lord tried to tame him

The boy chose instead to flee

And once out of doors discovered

A new home of fern and tree

He was never truly elvish

Neither truly nymph indeed

But from each he gained some magic

That grew in him like a seed

Through the years that seed of magic

Grew inside him rich and strong

And he blazed his own fate forward

Deep in verdant nature’s song

Though his mother came from seedling

He was still the elf lord’s child

So proclaimed himself a new king

And the master of the wild

At the conclusion of the verse, there was a shift in the melody, and the melancholy undertones were replaced with a brighter tone and slightly quicker tempo. Aluanna smiled and inhaled deeply, then continued.

Oh the years moved ever onward

And he grew from boy to man

Yet he still was ruled by instinct

Without guile or thought to plan

And he gave no mind to courtship

That is ’til one fateful day

When a most peculiar maiden

Came dancing on her way

The Lord of the Wood did marvel

At the maid with deep red hair

For she ventured to his forest

Without trembling dread or care

While most mortals learned to fear him

And they made no forest path

For offending the great wood lord

Would most surely earn his wrath

And yet carefree was the maiden

As she danced throughout the glade

And the wood lord’s ire for trespass

Straightaway began to fade

She came not to plunder timber

Nor to kill for sport or food

She came only to make merry

And improve the forest’s mood

Then the wood lord did approach her

Knowing not how she’d respond

But the moment she saw his eyes

There was instantly a bond

For she’d fled her cruel village

Who had thought her mind was weak

For just like the mighty wood lord

She possessed no power to speak

Now in love the maid and wood lord

Danced together through his realm

And they made their home together

‘Mong the birch and yew and elm

And they married under starlight

Sharing vows most silently

The wood lord himself performed it

With his own authority

One year hence the maid and wood lord

Had conceived a daughter fair

With her father’s seed of magic

And her mother’s deep red hair

But the child surprised her mother

And her father the wood king

As she grew into a lady

That young woman loved to sing

She sang for the wild forest

Ever changing without end

And she found her songs had power

Full of magic to defend

So she left her loving parents

Though she’d always be their child

She knew she must go find others

Who’d help her protect the wild

And so now you know my story

From the tale that I have spun

As defender of the woodland

And the voice for those with none

My companions I have gathered

We traverse my father’s realm

Wand’ring as did once my elf sire

‘Mong the birch and yew and elm

When Aluanna finished her song, she stood straight and tall in front of her audience, panting and holding her violin and bow while the world around them retuned to normal. Some in the party looked forlorn or thoughtful, while others looked excited and were nodding to each other enthusiastically. Tarun looked over and noticed tears streaming down Seth’s face.

“My brothers and I have been traveling with Lady Aluanna longer than anybody,” said Toj, “and I still never get used to hearing that.”

“Is all of that true?” Shon quietly asked the satyr. “Even if nymphs were still around, I didn’t think it was possible for them to mate with elves or other mortal races.”

“Wizard, I will tell you this only once,” declared Aluanna. “My tale is true and I sing no lies. If you do not wish to believe it, then we have no business with one another.”

“It was beautiful,” said Seth with wide eyes as he walked over to them, holding his walking stick. “Absolutely amazing.”

“And what about you, my dark brooding warrior?” said Aluanna, turning to Tarun. “Are you so longing for battle that you were unmoved by my song?”

“Forgive me lady,” Tarun said as he stood up and crossed his arms again, “the strength of your magic is unquestionable, but there is one thing I still don’t understand. If this is your father’s realm, then why don’t you get rid of the foul creatures like Laronius and those phantoms once and for all? Why allow them to continue existing in this forest?”

Aluanna’s eyebrows furrowed as she regarded Tarun. “If only it were so simple,” she said. “But they are servants of Vdekshi, and his power is as inexplicable as it is unnatural.”

“Why?” demanded Tarun. “You and Shon use magic. Shon’s parents and uncle all possessed magical abilities as well. Why is Vdekshi so different?”

“The magic my father passed on to me is powerful,” said Aluanna, “but the power and potency of Vdekshi’s magic is uncanny. It belongs to another age of the world.”

“Or perhaps the magic comes from someone that belongs to another age of the world,” said Seth, excitement growing on his face.

“What are you talking about?” asked Aluanna, addressing Seth for the first time.

“Uh, well,” Seth stammered, a slight tremble creeping into his voice “what I mean is, you and Shon both channel magical energies yourselves, right? But as mortals, even amazing mortals, you have limits. But what if Vdekshi isn’t channeling that magic himself, he’s just… directing the magic of some more powerful being?”

“I think those phantoms scrambled you more than we thought,” said Roj, hitting Seth with his flute. “Because you’re talking nonsense.” The other satyrs laughed.

“I happen to have some experience in the matter,” grumbled Seth, looking embarrassed.

“You mean like that light from you lantern that struck Laronius in the face?” Tarun asked, ignoring the satyrs’ continued snickering. “Or that word you said that drove back the phantoms at first? What was that word again? Sharoo?”

“Shurrah,” replied Seth. As he said the word, a tingle went up Tarun’s back.

Aluanna held up a hand to silence the satyrs, and looked directly at Seth. “Say that word again,” she commanded.

“Shurrah,” said Seth, the tremble in his voice now gone.

Aluanna turned back to the satyrs. “Roj, play me the horizon right after the sun sets.” Straightaway, the stocky, black-haired satyr began to play a slow and lingering tune from his flute. “Soj, give me a lightly falling rain.” The tall, white-haired satyr began tapping with his drumsticks to make a faint and slightly irregular rhythm. The sorceress held her hand in the air for a moment as if trying to catch an idea from the wind. “And Toj, I need the frog pond at the end of summer.” The brown-haired satyr responded with a low set of repeating chords that seemed to tie the flute and percussion together at once.

Aluanna closed her eyes and swayed to the rhythm while Toj repeated his set of chords a couple of times, and then began to sing a slow, haunting melody.

When the misty night wind starts to howl

Shurrah, shurrah, shurrah

Faces in the darkness sniff and growl

Shurrah, shurrah, shurrah

Call back to the evil and the foul

Shurrah, shurrah, shurrah, my child

Shurrah, shurrah, shurrah

Aluanna held up a hand and the satyrs abruptly stopped their playing. “That’s a good start,” said the sorceress. “We’ll have to finish that up another time.” She then turned to face Seth again. “That’s quite the potent word of power,” she said. “What does it mean? How did you learn it?”

“As you probably already guessed,” replied Seth, “it translates roughly to ‘be gone’ or ‘depart’ as a means to ward off creatures of darkness.” Seth then looked down and gripped the handle of his walking stick with both hands. “As for how I leaned it,” he stammered, “I doubt you would believe me if I told you.”

“And do you always give in so easily to your doubts?” asked Aluanna sharply. “There are many who do not believe my story, yet I shared it with you and your companions tonight. It is your turn to do the same.”

“You’re right,” Seth said, lifting his head and planting his walking stick firmly on the ground. “It’s time I told all of you what I’m really doing here.”

Tarun
Arty By Ryan Salway

 

The darkness in Shon’s mind seemed to be pulling him in a thousand directions at once. In Shon’s confusion and panic, he could vaguely recall that he had blacked out shortly after he and Tarun had refused an invitation from someone. Who was it? The details of the encounter hardly seemed important to Shon at the moment. All that seemed to matter was his current terror.

In the back of Shon’s memory, he recalled something his old teacher Empress had once told him about the tundra wolves that roamed her homeland. She had said that in the winter when the wolves became desperate for food, they would become particularly ferocious, attacking almost anything they came across. She told how she had once come across the scene of a pack of tundra wolves that had taken down a deer and the way they had each jealously attacked the dead animal, trying to secure a piece for themselves.

At the time, Empress had shared her experience with her students as part of some lesson about the effects of bullying, or cruel words, or something. The lesson didn’t seem important to Shon at the moment. What was important was that Shon’s mind now felt like the deer, a dead animal on a cold and frozen plane, being torn to pieces by hundreds of hungry and vicious creatures, but unable to react in the slightest or even call out for help.

As the creatures tore at one particularly tender corner of Shon’s mind, there suddenly erupted a roar of fury that shocked Shon. He supposed that it must have surprised the dark creatures as well, because immediately afterwards the biting and rending ceased for a moment and Shon was left to the cold, the darkness, his own pain, and silence.

Except that with the momentary pause in panic, Shon realized that all was not as silent as he thought. Far off in the dark distance, Shon could hear the impossibly low and malicious laughter of a nightmare he thought he’d forgotten.

“I warned you to run home, little larva,” the cruel voice said through the darkness. The voice did not seem terribly loud, but Shon marveled at how clearly he could hear it when he sensed that it came from so far away. “My enemies are not to be trifled with, and I have been preparing this one for quite some time. Leave your friend and cease meddling in affairs you don’t understand. Give in or give up this night. If you don’t, I promise you that your fate will be far worse than the one you face now.”

“Who are you?” asked Shon. As soon as he asked the question, he felt foolish and small, like he was talking to a great mountain hundreds of miles in the distance. Shon doubted whether he’d been heard at all.

Then came an answer, booming like thunder. “I am the force that will reshape this world,” the voice boomed. “I am the one who will save this world from death by atrophy and the decay of magic. I am the mightiest of the mighty. I am the bringer of strife and strength and a thousand years of war! No war can last without worthy enemies, and I have planned long and worked hard for mine.”

Shon wished that he could find some hidden corner to crawl into and escape that terrible voice, but he was completely naked and exposed to the empty void surrounding his mind. More than just the words and the tone of the voice, Shon could feel the contempt and anger that it felt for him.

At that moment, a thought came clearly to the front of Shon’s consciousness, momentarily pushing past all the other distractions in crystal clear focus. Why would such a being have cause to feel angry at him? The malice and mockery were somehow easy for him to accept, but anger? Shon thought of Empress’ lessons on anger and the weakness it showed. If this being was truly angry with him, then perhaps Shon was not as insignificant as the voice was trying to convince him he was.

For an instant, this thought gave Shon courage, and he considered more forcefully demanding to know who this terrible force was. But the being’s presence was still enormous and intimidating, and Shon decided to keep his small, secret piece of bravery to himself.

The fearsome consciousness finally began to withdraw, like the rolling away of great storm clouds, and Shon would have felt relieved, if not for his fear of the cold, dark wolves returning to attack his mind. But to Shon’s surprise, what he experienced next was not violence, but music.

A collection of notes, that at first seemed separate and disconnected, began to weave themselves together like a great woolen blanket. The blanket of music fluttered in front of him for a moment, as if on a breeze, and then wrapped gently but tightly around him, covering his naked consciousness and warming his soul. Light began returning to Shon’s mind along with images of fields and flowers and grass.

The scent of grass was evoked with particular strength. He could smell the freshly-grazed grass so powerfully that for a moment he imagined that he was back among the fields of sheep surrounding Alderfold. Just as Shon began to relax in the peacefulness of the vision, one of the rams in the field walked right up to Shon with his hairy face and began breathing hard on his face.

At that moment, Shon opened his eyes and found a rather grumpy-looking satyr standing over his body and staring at him with their noses nearly touching. “Alright,” the satyr said with a grouchy stare, “which one of you yahoos was butchering my flute?”

“Gah!” yelped Shon as he pushed himself up and scurried away from the furry-faced stranger. The satyr was stocky and appeared to be a considerably shorter than Shon. His legs were covered in black goat fur and he had hooves instead of feet. His torso and chest were bare and shaggy, and on top of his head were two twisting goat horns emerging from a long pile of hair the same color as his legs.

Shon looked around the campsite and realized that it was still nighttime, but the campfire was roaring and the stars were once again shining above. Shon found it odd that despite the night air, his surroundings somehow seemed brighter and more inviting than usual, as if the sunny ambiance of his dream had carried over into the real world.

Next to the campfire, Shon saw Tarun beginning to sit up with the help of another satyr. This second satyr had light brown hair on his legs and head and seemed a bit taller than the first one. He also seemed less grumpy than the one that was still staring at him, but Shon decided to keep that observation to himself.

A couple of steps away from Tarun, Shon saw a third satyr that was by far the tallest of the three. He had yellowish white hair on his legs and head, and although he was bent over at the moment, Shon could tell that he was probably even taller than Tarun. Because the third satyr was relatively thin, Shon thought his height gave him something of a stretched out appearance, but he also seemed to be the calmest of all three satyrs. A moment after Shon looked over at him, he noticed the tall satyr was propping up Seth against a nearby tree and trying to gently wake him up.

“I think I found your missing flute, Roj,” the tall satyr called over to the black-haired one that was still glaring at Shon. “I think this fellow over here was the one playing it.”

“Bah!” said Roj. “You can’t call that uncontrolled bleating ‘playing,’ Soj. If some idiot was using your drumsticks to bang on a tree, would you call that playing music?”

“Of course,” Soj replied with a peaceful smile. “You know that trees and rocks are some of my favorite surfaces to play on.”

“All right, bad example!” snapped Roj. “Just toss me my flute, will ya?”

“Easier said that done, mate,” said Soj. “This guy may look like he’s conked out, but he’s still got a wicked grip on the flute.” Shon saw Soj give a tug on the wooden flute in Seth’s hand, as if to prove his point.

“You’re being to blasted gentle, you big softie!” shouted Roj. “You’d think your legs were covered with cotton instead of wool. Let me come over there and I’ll get my flute, even if his arm is still attached to it.”

“Settle down, Roj,” said the satyr between them. “The flute’s not going anywhere, and I doubt that poor fellow is going to try to run off with it once he comes to. Let him wake up when he’s ready, and until then let him be. Seems like these gentlemen have been through enough tonight.” As the brown-haired satyr spoke, it struck Shon that if Soj seemed to be stretched out and Roj seemed to be a bit squashed, this other satyr seemed to be the ideal balance between them. The satyr had a handsome face and seemed to carry a mantle of confidence.

Shon felt a swell of relief as he saw Tarun begin to sit up and shake his head. “Excuse me,” said Tarun as he struggled to stand on his feet, “but who are you? What happened to us?” Tarun managed to stand for a moment before his knees gave way and he fell back to the ground.

“Whoa, take it easy big fellow,” said the middle satyr. “My name is Toj. These are my brothers, Roj and Soj. We don’t mean you any harm. As for what happened to you, we were really hoping you could tell us. How did you manage to stumble into such a bad nest of phantoms? You’re lucky to even be alive.”

“We didn’t stumble into them,” said Tarun, holding his head as if trying to shake water from his brain. “We were attacked. They were with a man named Laronius. He said he just wanted to give us an invitation, but when we refused, the situation became… unfriendly.”

“Amazing,” said Toj, turning to look at Shon. “You know, your friend here may be the most gifted underestimator I’ve ever met. And if what he says is true, your survival is a lot more than lucky. It’s downright miraculous.”

“What do you mean?” asked Shon, surprised at the shakiness in his own voice.

“Well, let’s just say that we’ve encountered that devil Laronius before,” said Toj. “He’s not to be underestimated, and certainly not to be trusted. It’s not every night we meet someone who’s met Laronius and still been breathing afterward. Still, that was one nasty swarm of phantoms, even for Laronius. I don’t think we’ve ever driven off a swarm quite that large before tonight.”

“You mean you’re the ones who drove off all those phantoms?” asked Shon.

“Well, in all honesty, no,” replied Toj. “We helped provide some of the accompaniment for the spell that cleared away the darkness, but we can’t actually take credit for it.”

“Well then, who did?” Shon asked.

“That would be me,” said a clear and melodic voice. At that moment a beautiful red-haired young woman stepped into the firelight. Her black and green dress was simple, and she wore no shoes, but she walked with a stature and grace that seemed to befit royalty. As soon as she entered the clearing, the three satyrs all bowed their heads in respect and reverence.

“May I present,” announced Toj, raising his head again, “the Voice of the Land, and Heir of the Wood. The Lady Aluanna.”

In that instant, Seth jerked awake, shaking his head in confusion. In a daze, he raised the flute to his lips as if to blow into it again, but stopped when he saw the Lady Aluanna standing in front of him. Seth’s eyebrows raised and his jaw drooped a little bit as he dropped the flute in his hand. “Oh wow,” he muttered, and then collapsed face first back to the ground.

Illustration of Shon
by Ryan Salway

 

As Seth walked quickly through the forest, he saw that the narrow beam of light in front of him coming from his lantern began to gradually intensify and widen until there was a small and hazy circle of light all around him. Seth didn’t know what had caused the light to change, but he was grateful for it. Something in the gloom of the woods that night was unlike the usual dark of nighttime. Perhaps it was because of the increasing autumn chill and the lack of familiar sounds from frogs, crickets, and other night animals, but the deafening silence felt eerie and unnatural.

Seth began stepping a bit heavier than usual, hoping that the sounds of the sticks and leaves crunching under his feet would comfort him. To his dismay, there was something wrong about the sounds that only made his unease increase. At first he thought that his ears were plugged or the sounds were muffled, but he realized that what he found so distressing was the lack of the slightest echo. It was as if the sounds traveled only as far as his own ears and then abruptly stopped.

Strange shadows flickered just outside of Seth’s vision, shifting like the shadows of smoke against the edge of his small circle of light. It was as if the darkness itself was trying to creep in from every side. Seth could not be sure if it was merely his own imagination and fatigue playing tricks on him, or if there was something more sinister going on, but either way it left him wanting to get back to camp as quickly as possible. For a moment, Seth was seized by the sudden urge to give in to panic and run aimlessly into the night.

Seth took a steadying breath and continued to step forward at a deliberate pace. He tried to remember the strength and peace he had felt that night on the beach when he was given the lantern. As if in response, the lantern in Seth’s hand grew warm, and the warmth seemed to flow up Seth’s arm and into his chest, filling him with courage. Seth stopped walking and looked around him. He noticed that although the light around him was dim, it was no smaller than it had been before the feeling of dread began. Seth smiled with confidence. Whatever may be lurking in these woods was no match for the light in the lantern.

But along with the warmth and courage that flowed up his arm, so too did a renewed sense of urgency to return to the camp with his firewood. For the first time, it occurred to Seth that the feeling of urgency was not for his own welfare, but for those he was rushing to. Seth was now certain that there was something unnatural hiding in the dark of the forest, and while he may have the magic of the lantern to keep him safe, Tarun and Shon did not.

This time Seth did give in to the urge to run, but now it was with purpose, not panic. Whatever was happening this night had something to do with the reason Seth had been led to this land and this forest. After so many weeks of following the lantern with no clear understanding of his end goal, Seth felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of being useful and doing some good. He was eager to make his master proud, and tonight he might finally have his chance.

As Seth ran through the woods in the direction of Tarun and Shon’s camp, he began to lose himself in the moment and he nearly forgot about his earlier fear in the darkness. The light from the lantern grew brighter for a while, but Seth was so focused on the direction he was heading that he didn’t even notice when the beam of light narrowed and shifted to his right.

Seth became aware of his mistake as he felt his footsteps become heavy and his movements and thoughts both slowed as if moving through tar. Even blinking seemed slow and heavy on his face. His head swam as he turned his head to see the thin beam of light shining dimly and distantly to his far right. Seth tried to correct his course, but he felt as if cold tendrils of darkness were trying to hold him in place and prevent him from turning in the direction of the light. The darkness seemed to tighten around his chest, making his heart pound uncontrollably and his breath was short.

Seth continued to fight against the darkness and try to turn, but he felt as if he was losing the fight. Ultimately, it was his shillelagh that made the difference. Seth hardly ever used it as a walking stick, but in his desperation he tried to do anything to fight against the pull of the dark threads binding him in place. As Seth placed the shillelagh firmly on the ground next to him and tightly gripped the handle, he finally began to make progress against the darkness. He could still feel the weight of the tugging, but it no longer held him in place.

Gradually, step by step, Seth made his way to the spot where the beam of light focused. Seth was relieved when he returned to the safety of the circle of light, but his elation had passed. His own enthusiasm had gotten the better of him, and he had become careless. He promised himself he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Seth studied his surroundings and tried to determine where his guide intended to take him now. But to Seth’s confusion, the light from his lantern had stopped moving. Seth found that he was safe within the circle of light, but in front of him there was nothing but a thick darkness that he could not see past. Seth was certain that his new friends’ camp was on the other side of the darkness, but it seemed an impassable barrier. Though heavy, the darkness seemed to move and writhe in front of him like a slow moving smoke or a bucket of ink that had been dropped into a pond.

Seth looked around trying to weigh his options, but the sense of urgency that he felt before began to return. He knew he wouldn’t have time to find another way past before something terrible befell Tarun and Shon. Unsure of what to do, Seth looked at his lantern, but the object just continued to illuminate the same spot where he stood. Finally, steeling himself, Seth decided he had no other choice and walked directly into the darkness.

Immediately Seth felt the sensation of thousands of web like strands of darkness try to grasp at his arms and legs. Instinctively, Seth reared back and swung his shillelagh at the dark tendrils. At that moment, a word came to Seth’s mind, just like earlier in the day when he had unexpectedly known the right word for healing Tarun’s arm.

“Shurrah,” Seth whispered. The darkness in front of him shuddered.

Seth stepped forward and swung his shillelagh at the darkness. “Shurrah,” Seth said again, more forcefully this time. Seth did not know how he knew the word. It belonged to a language that was not his. It was an old and forgotten language not spoken for thousands of years, but he had been promised he would learn it. Though the word on his lips was unfamiliar to him, Seth somehow knew that its meaning was roughly translated to “depart” or “be gone.”

Every time Seth repeated the word and swung his shillelagh, the darkness would tremble and retreat a few paces before him and the light from his lantern would fill the space. Courage began to well up inside Seth, and he could tell that he was nearly through the wall of darkness. With one last shout of “Shurrah!” he burst through the other side.

When Seth stepped through into the dim firelight on the other side, he realized that the worst was yet to come. A strange thick mist hovered a few inches above the ground, giving off an eerie blue light in the campsite. The campfire in the middle of the clearing was a good size and the logs in the fire crackled and popped as they burned, but the light from the fire seemed unable to illuminate more than a small circle a couple of feet in diameter.

Just outside of the circle of firelight, Seth could see Tarun kneeling on the forest floor among the strange blue mist. His large, dark-skinned arms were shaking violently, and his hands seemed to be grasping at something unseen. After a moment, Seth could see that Tarun had been trying to lift Shon, who had been completely covered by the mist. The wizards pale skin looked lifeless and blue to Seth, though he couldn’t tell if that was merely an effect of the strange blue luminescence.

At the other end of the clearing, Seth heard a voice that was cruel and mocking. “Really now,” said the voice with feigned concern, “my master is a most gracious host, but I’m afraid that he’s made it clear that refusing his invitation is simply not an option.” Seth’s eyes followed the direction of the voice and saw a thin, pale figure hovering slightly above the blue mist.

“Of course, you could refuse again,” said the pale stranger, smiling widely. “But then, I would have to try to persuade you again, and I think your little friend there has already had his fill of my kind of persuasion.” Tarun said nothing, but Seth saw him try to pull himself and Shon closer to the warmth of the fire.

The pale stranger’s smile widened with wicked satisfaction. “I’m afraid that a lack of acceptance will also be considered a refusal,” the stranger said. “And now it looks like you’re trying to escape, which I was told to prevent by any means necessary.” The figure extended a thin, outstretched hand towards the pair, and began to float quietly towards them.

“Stop!” shouted Seth, as he ran to intercept the stranger’s path. Wherever Seth stepped, the blue mist evaporated around him. “What are you doing to them?”

The stranger stopped and his smile faltered as he looked at Seth, clearly surprised by his interruption. He glared at the opening where Seth had emerged into the clearing, as if angry at the darkness for failing to keep him out. The stranger cocked his head to the side and forced his smile to return, though it was thinner now and not nearly as wide.

“I was merely delivering an invitation to them,” the stranger said. “A private invitation,” he added with deliberate contempt in the emphasis. “In fact, this entire conversation was meant to be private. This does not concern you, and I suggest you leave while I’m giving you the chance.”

“I’m traveling with these men,” Seth responded. “So whatever you’re doing to them here does concern me.”

“Traveling with them?” asked the stranger. “I’ve been keeping tabs on these two for some time now, young man. You certainly weren’t traveling with them last night.”

“I met them earlier today,” Seth said, “but I’m pretty quick with my loyalties. I’m not leaving them to you.”

“I’m not sure how you managed to get past my phantoms,” said the stranger, twisting the smile on his face, “but I can assure you that one word from me, and they’ll descend on this clearing like a flood and tear your soul apart. You have no idea with whom you are dealing or the power I possess.”

“Neither do you,” said Seth, stepping towards the stranger. Seth raised his lantern and swung his shillelagh in a wide arc. “Shurrah!” he shouted. Immediately the blue mist in the clearing dissipated and left only the orange glow of the firelight. In the flickering light, Seth could see an expression of rage and hatred come across the stranger’s face, made only more terrible by the shadows dancing across his sharp features.

“You want to know who I am?” Seth asked. “I am Seth the Fourth, son of Seth the Liar, son of Seth the Thief, son of Seth the Traitor. I am a servant of…”

“Did you say Seth the Traitor?” the stranger interrupted, a smile starting to return to his lips.

“What?” said Seth. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt the warmth from the lantern, as if it was urging him to stay on his course. Just one more “shurrah” and your friends will be safe, his mind seemed to say. And yet Seth couldn’t resist his curiosity. “What did you say to me?” he asked.

“Are you really the great-grandson of Seth the Traitor?” the stranger asked, excitement rising in his throat. “Of course, I knew those markings on that little stick of yours looked familiar.”

It was more than Seth could bear. His own father had always refused to tell Seth anything about his own family other than their names. And now it seemed that this foul creature knew more than he did. Somewhere in the back of his mind the word “shurrah” continued to echo over and over, but Seth ignored it. “What do you know about him?” Seth demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know much,” the stranger said coyly. “It’s my master who could tell you stories. Perhaps I was too hasty to exclude you from his invitation. Come with me and your friends to my master’s stronghold, and I’m sure he’ll answer any questions you have about Dear Old Granddad.”

Seth was so wrapped up in the conversation that he did not even notice the thick tendrils of darkness snaking up his legs, or the return of the blue mist. Too late, Seth looked down and recognized the trap. He tried to swing his shillelagh and shout, but the dark tendrils wrapped around his throat, choking him.

“That was a nasty little trick you pulled a second ago,” spat the stranger. “I don’t know where you learned a word of power like that, but obviously once I get you back home I’ll need to be sure to cut out your tongue before you wake up.”

Seth struggled to breathe and looked at the lantern in his hand. Immediately, there shot out a beam of light brighter than the sun on a clear day. The narrow shaft of light struck the stranger directly on his right eye. The stranger let out a bloodcurdling scream and the darkness released its grip on Seth’s throat.

Unfortunately, in his rage the stranger had lashed out and knocked the lantern from Seth’s hand. The rusty lantern sailed across the clearing and landed in a bush. Without the protection of the lantern, the darkness quickly began to advance on Seth again.

“How dare you?!” the stranger screamed, clutching his eye. “You’ve sealed your own fate. I won’t be holding back my phantoms from you or your foolish companions anymore. Enjoy having your sanity flayed and your souls gutted!” And with that, the stranger took flight and disappeared into the night sky.

Seth watched the oncoming darkness advance towards him. He wanted to run for his lantern, but he was already cut off. Tarun and Shon would die tonight and it would be all his fault. He felt like a fool for not using the power he had been given to cast out the stranger when he had the chance.

Seth looked at the campfire dying as it was being consumed by the thick darkness. He wondered if he might buy some time by feeding the fire with some of the wood he had collected, but he realized that in all the commotion and confusion of the night, he had dropped all but a single piece of the wood. Seth eyed the wood and realized it was the strange flute that the lantern had shone on earlier that night.

With the darkness closing in from all sides, and with no other options, Seth lifted the flute to his lips and blew hard. Out of the flute came a single long piercing note. The sound reverberated through the forest and the darkness halted.

Then, from somewhere among the trees, another long clear note answered back.

Seth
Art by Ryan Salway

In the past six weeks, Seth had been called a liar and a lunatic. For the offense of telling people the truth about what he had seen and experienced that night on the beach, he had been ignored, insulted, assaulted, and driven away. Some people had spit on him, others had shouted obscenities at him, and a few had even thrown mud and rocks at him. But without a doubt, the worst had been when he was thrown overboard at sea.

A chill breeze blew through the dark forest, reminding Seth of that stormy night at sea, and he shivered at the thought. He held up his lantern to try to find the firewood he told Shon and Tarun that he would bring back to the campsite. Seth had traveled with them for less than a day and he was anxious to prove his worth to them. He was nearly certain they were the ones he was supposed to find, though he didn’t know why yet.

Though the daylight had already faded away, Seth found that, as usual, the light from his lantern would illuminate no further than a couple of steps in front of him. He was grateful for the magical light in the darkness, but he figured it would have been easier to gather firewood if it could light a larger area than the small focused beam it produced. Follow the light, the voice had told him that night on the beach. Let it guide you. Seth eyed the rusty lantern and sighed. For a guide, it sure had led him into a fair amount of trouble.

Seth tripped on a stump in the darkness and lost his balance. For a moment, as he swayed and shifted his weight to regain his footing, he suddenly found his mind reeling back to the rocking boat and crashing waves of that stormy night at sea. Seth had been so sure and confident in his direction that night, despite the howling wind and crashing thunder all around him. After all, how could anything go wrong as long as he was following the light and letting the lantern be his guide?

In his mind’s eye, Seth could see himself standing at the edge of the sailboat, holding his lantern high in the storm, the captain of the small vessel shouting through the wind to put it out. For once, the lantern had actually shone clear and bright in the darkness, cutting through the rain and spray. The two other sailors on the boat looked at Seth as if he were insane.

Seth had looked out into the storm and for a moment his faith in his guide wavered. Illuminated by a flash of lightning, Seth had seen an enormous scaly tail and fins several times larger than the boat he stood on. In the frothing waves, the lantern’s beam revealed a giant eye staring up at him from under the water.

“Put that cursed light out!” the captain had shouted at Seth. “Unless you want that leviathan to swallow the whole ship!”

“Trust me,” Seth had hollered over the roaring winds and falling rain, “if we follow the direction of the light, we’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”

“I don’t know if you’re blind,” the captain had shouted back, “but right over there is some land where we might just escape that thing if we’re lucky. If you haven’t noticed though, it’s in the opposite direction of where that blasted light is pointing!”

“I told you where I got this lantern from,” Seth had hollered. “How can we go wrong if we follow something that powerful?”

“Look,” the captain had shouted, “I figured you were a fool when you shared that absurd story, but I thought I’d humor you because you were a paying customer who could afford the fare for the trip. But I see now you’re more than just a fool. You’re downright mad!”

Seth had pleaded further with the captain to steer the boat in the direction of the light of the lantern, but to no avail. Seth had been so sure of their direction, that he had even attempted to take control of the rudder from the captain, reasoning that the crew would be grateful to him once he had led them to safety. Instead they had responded by accusing him of mutiny and throwing him and the lantern overboard.

Once in the water, Seth had been unable to keep his grip on the lantern, and very quickly he had no light at all. As the waves crashed over him, Seth had only managed to keep his head above water to see two more flashes of lightning in the storm. In the first flash of lightning he had seen the outline of tall, jagged rocks in the direction of the land where the boat was headed. In the second flash of lightning, Seth could see a huge serpentine shape circled all around him in the water. After that there had been no more lightning. There had been only wind and waves and rain and darkness.

When Seth had awoken on an unknown shore the next day, he had no idea how he had survived the night. Even more peculiar, the rusty lantern had washed up on the shore right next to where he lay. Seth had dragged himself far enough from the water to dry off in the late morning sun, but it had taken him more than a week to get the smell of fish and a feeling of slime out of his hair and clothes.

Since that night, Seth had been more cautious when telling people about the lantern and where it came from. The light had not beamed as brightly since. Seth had tried to reason with himself that perhaps it had been affected by the water, but deep in his gut he knew the truth. The more Seth tried to hide the truth, the dimmer the light would get, until he could be in danger of losing his guide for good.

Seth paused his search for firewood and held up the lantern directly in front of his face. “Alright,” Seth said out loud, “as soon as I get back to the camp, I’ll tell them everything. Even if they won’t believe me.”

As if in response, the lantern’s light suddenly flashed across Seth’s vision, momentarily blinding him and sending small flashing colors across his eyes. “Gah!” said Seth, stepping back and nearly losing his grip on the lantern. When his vision returned to normal, Seth saw that the narrow beam of light was focused on a small bundle of dry sticks on the forest floor. To Seth’s delight, the sticks appeared perfect for taking back to the camp for firewood.

Seth set the lantern down on a nearby stump, but as he moved the lantern, the narrow beam of light stayed fixed on the bundle of sticks. As Seth bent down to pick up the sticks, he noticed that one of them was in fact a small wooden flute. After picking up the bundle, the beam of light from the lantern shifted, so that it was now pointing in the direction of the camp.

“Curious,” said Seth. “I suppose it’s time for me to head back.”

***

Tarun had finished setting up camp and sat on a large boulder as he waited for Seth to return with firewood. In all honesty, he didn’t need the firewood. He and Shon had a small reserve of small firewood in the wagon that they kept dry in case of rainy nights. When Seth hadn’t returned before sundown, Tarun had decided to start their fire with some of that reserve so he could use its light to finish putting up the tents.

But although the extra firewood wasn’t essential, it would be appreciated, and what Tarun appreciated even more was the opportunity to collect his thoughts without Seth nearby. Tarun’s first instinct was to trust this new stranger, but he had no evidence to back up the idea that Seth was trustworthy, and Tarun wanted to see if his favorable first impression still held up while he was away.

When Tarun had asked Shon about what he thought of Seth, the wizard had furrowed his brow before responding. Tarun had realized this was usually an indication that Shon was still making up his mind while answering. Several times, Shon inhaled and shifted his weight as if he were about to speak, but then stopped after opening his mouth.

At length, Shon said, “From what I’ve been able to sense from his mind, he certainly doesn’t seem to mean us any harm. If anything, it’s just the opposite. That’s what has me confused and a little worried.”

“What do you mean?” Tarun asked. “You’re worried that he doesn’t want to hurt us?”

“He’s known us for less than a day,” Shon said, “yet he seems so eager to help us, it doesn’t make sense to me. Why was he so quick to ask to join us? And how in the world was he able to heal your arm so quickly like that?”

“Perhaps he is a healer like that woman Tam who nursed me back to health when I came to Life’s Edge,” said Tarun.

“Tam is a gifted healer,” said Shon, “but she mostly uses natural remedies like herbs, salves, and bandages. I know she keeps a few magical potions on hand, but nothing that could mend an injury as quickly as what Seth did. I’ve only heard of healing magic that potent in old stories. That was unbelievable. How do you feel, anyway?”

Tarun shrugged. “I don’t really know yet,” he said. “My arm is still tender, but it doesn’t burn and sting as bad as before. Mostly I notice that I’m not as furious as before. I mean, I’m still angry when I think about Krall and the others, and I can feel that rage kind of bubbling under my skin all the time, but it’s not making me crazy like it was before. It’s as if my head was stuck inside a beehive and I couldn’t even think with all the buzzing and stinging. And then he pulled the hive off my head. Now it’s like there’s still a few bees buzzing around my head, but nothing like before. Does that make any sense?”

“Not really,” Shon admitted. “But I have noticed a huge change in your mood and behavior since this morning, and I’m glad you’re feeling so much better. I suppose I should be willing to show Seth some gratitude for…” Shon’s voice trailed off as his attention shifted to the dark woods outside of the firelight.

“Is everything alright?” Tarun asked.

Shon stepped towards Tarun and lowered his voice. “Do you hear those whispers coming from over there?” Shon asked, pointing to a clearing to their right.

Tarun was silent for a moment before responding. “I don’t hear anything,” he said. “Perhaps you are hearing the thoughts of someone in the woods. Is it Seth’s thoughts?”

“Definitely not Seth,” said Shon. “I can’t tell who the voices are or what they’re saying, but I get the impression they aren’t friendly.”

“On the contrary,” said a voice from the darkness, “I’m probably the most friendly person you could ever meet in these woods. In fact, I’ve come to offer both of you a most hospitable invitation.”

The voice was cold and sharp, and yet it seemed to have a hint of secret amusement. Tarun felt a chill on his injured arm, and the buzzing in his mind began to return. Something felt very wrong.

“Tarun,” Shon whispered, “whoever that is, he’s not the source of the whispering I was hearing. Those voices aren’t in front of us anymore. Their moving to surround us.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Tarun shouted into the darkness. “Show yourself!”

A thin pale figure stepped into the dim firelight, the flickering shadows accentuating his high cheekbones and sharp features. The stranger stepped so lightly that he nearly seemed to be floating just above the ground. “I am merely a humble servant,” said the stranger. “My name is Laronius, and I’ve come to offer you an invitation that I don’t think you’ll want to turn down.”

Seth
Art by Ryan Salway