Leaves
crunch underneath my boots in the stillness of midday. The Older Woods seem to
have grown entirely silent. The birds stopped chirping awhile back, and the
noises of other small animals cannot be heard. I haven’t seen a bird’s nest, or
a wild rabbit’s burrow for a while. I am getting a little worried. A week spent
in the Older Woods has not gone to waste – I have adjusted to this dry, but
heavily vegetated wood and I know that this silence is unnatural.
I suspect something about this
particular part of the woods. My map says that I am a hundred paces from
Rithandir. If that is so, then why can’t I see the towers? A gate? Any sign of
a city?
I hear a giggle behind me. I wheel
around on my heel, but nothing is there. That was the first sound other my
heart pounding, my breathing and the leaves beneath me.
I swivel back around, and Édan is
standing in front of me with a questioning look on his face. I yelp, and it
echoes everywhere, bouncing from tree to tree. I had managed to convince myself
that Édan was just a hallucination after falling out of a tree, but now I will
never convince my mind he’s not there.
Édan takes my hand and jerks me forward.
Just like before, the trees sway and ripple back into place, and the sticks and
stones whip aside as Édan runs. He leads me through the trees, winding through
them easily, and we emerge from the woods into a clearing.
A clearing with buildings. Dead
buildings. A ghost-city. Rithandir is nothing but collapsed rooftops, thatched
straw ripped and torn, uneven walls, broken down and wooden furniture and doors
splintered. Grey smoke floats casually through the air in a ribbon, coming from
the light flames brushing over the rubble like paint.
I stare at the mess in horror. No
supplies. No people. No city.
Édan is still standing beside me,
looking up at me with big eyes, expecting something, it seems. Then he runs
forward into the smoke, before I can react, and seems to disappear. Then, for
the first time, I notice the blue sky above, and the cumulous clouds like
pillows in the sky. I haven’t seen them while I’ve been in the woods.
I fall back onto the ground and lie
there, trying to clear my head and make sense of the rubble before me. I close
my eyes, and all I can hear is my breathing. Then faint laughter bites through
the air to my ears, and I am sitting upright before my eyes are open.
There is a message written in the brown
sand. It reads:
They are close. Run.
Then
I hear a voice, or some kind of call, like a dagger in my ears. I clutch my
head, and I want to claw my ears off. It makes my eyes water. I release an
unexpected cry of anguish, and the call sounds again.
Closer.
Édan is still gone, disappearing just as
instantly as he appears. He didn’t have his silver ball with him this time.
I’ve got to get away, now. Whatever is coming, it sounds angry. I don’t want to
be faced with the fury of any creature.
I scramble to one of the houses not
engulfed in flame, lift up splintered wooden boards – maybe once a door? I find
the wooden parts of a cupboard, and I feel a short stab of pain in my finger. A
splinter. I try to ignore the long needle of wood under my skin.
I keep digging through the rubble, and I
find what I have been looking for: food. It is nothing more than a squashed
loaf of bread, kept safe from scavengers in a tied bag of cloth, but probably
stale. I run as fast as I can from the remains of Rithandir. The cobbled road
of the streets remains, and I can hear my boots clopping like horses’ hooves.
I run through a wall of smoke, and I
smell for an instant the burning flesh of the dead. I nearly trip over, gagging
and coughing. I feel sick. The grey walls are a blur beside me, and the world
before me is jumping up and down with my steps.
I hear the call. I clench my jaw and
squint with pain. The cobbled road stops, and I realise I’ve reached the
outskirts of Rithandir. I take one look back, over the shallow walls of
Rithandir, and push forward into the Older Woods. I hear the call sound from the
clearing behind me.
I had never expected to be chased, or
met by a vanishing elf-boy when I started my journey not so long ago.
I am glad that my sword is of the finest
make, and is very light. My satchel bounces on my back, and I can hear the
arrows in my quiver milling around, making hollow tapping sounds. My bow is
still in my bow-hand, as my arms swing to propel me forward as I run.
The leaves are the loudest noise in my
ears, apart from the call sounding behind me. The world behind doesn’t seem to
get any further away, the call just seems to bring it closer, the world in
front seems to be running away from me, like some twisted game of tag.
I will myself to make my run into a
sprint, and it becomes an effort to dodge the trees. Everything goes blurry and
I feel nothing but the throbbing of my feet on the ground and the beads of
sweat that glide down past my ears.
Then suddenly I have stopped. A strange
thud is ringing through my ears. Then I see what I stopped for. In the tree
closest to me is an arrow. A black arrow, with some kind of liquid dripping off
it. The liquid is slow and thick, and it smells familiar. It is clear, and
reminds me of something.
Then another thud, and the black arrow I
was looking at is joined by another arrow. I dare to steal a look behind, and I
wish I hadn’t.
“They are coming!”
I feel the same childish fear I felt
long before my quest began. In a breath I have turned away and I am running for
my life. Just as everything seems to fade and disappear I stumble and fall. I still
can’t see or make out where I am. Everything is out of focus. It makes my eyes
hurt.
I hear a few sounds, and I keep
absolutely still. I am afraid of breathing, and I would stop living, if it
would stop my heart from beating so loudly.
In this moment, the only thing I can
think is of that night six years ago when my mother disappeared, the ruins of
Rithandir and the black arrow. The images invade my mind, and then play over
and over again, until the sounds stop, and my eyes can see again.
My heart and breathing seem to calm in
the same instant everything around me becomes clear. A quick glance at my
surroundings suggests I have fallen down a small slope, where I cannot be seen.
I am amongst thick green bushes of glossy leaves with serrated sides. The slope
is quite steep; in fact, it’s more like a step. Should I dare peep over the
slope?
I decide that I must keep safe and stay
hidden.
There is a rustling somewhere over the
slope. Then all noise stops, and the Older Woods are silent like before. Something
is in the woods with me. Then I notice another handy fact: my bow is not in my
right hand anymore. This is worrying. I dive into the green bushes, hoping that
I’ll find my bow nestled here somewhere.
It has to be.
My hand taps something wooden and
smooth. My bow, sleek with elven designs spiralling up it, is once again in my
hand. I breathe a sigh of relief. Just to be safe, if not excessively, I decide
to make camp here on the ‘step’. I can’t make a fire, for that would reveal my
location. So I sleep in the cold, after my meal of bread, cheese and salted
meat.
I can feel the coarse material of the
blanket tucked close to my skin, and the squishy soil on my back. I sleep still
wearing my sword, which is uncomfortable, and my bow and quiver of arrows are
right beside me, hidden by an overhanging bush.
This night, there are no dreams.
Only nightmares.
In
the morning, everything is quiet, but not too quiet. Somewhere far away I can
hear a bird singing. I don’t think I am being chased anymore. The night was
black, silent and cold. This morning, the trees and plants are yellow in the
light of the young sun. I can see little beetles and ants crawling under the
leaves and twigs. I don’t remember seeing any insects yesterday. In fact, yesterday
was devoid of animals.
I yawn, and feel my senses become
clearer. The bird I thought was far away is in fact right above me on the
branch of a tree. The bird is a swallow. I smile and sigh heavily as I attach
my quiver of arrows to my back and stuff my blanket into my satchel. Then I
pick up my bow and stand.
I take a step forward and fall,
forgetting that there is a slope. I mumble tiredly and scuttle awkwardly up the
slope. I walk around the slope, look up at the sun, and start walking north. I
am lost. While being chased, I wasn’t smart enough to remember where I was
going. All I know is I am somewhere north of Rithandir.
The swallow behind me stops chirping,
and a deathly silence falls upon the woods. I stop walking instantly and stand
still. They can’t still be here, can they? They wouldn’t wait for me, would
they?
Then I hear the laughter of a child and
Édan is standing in front of me.
“Édan?” I say, confused.
He smiles gently and hands me something.
It is cool, perfectly round and silver. It puts thoughts in my head of a world
of grey; sometimes peaceful and soft, but at other times, enraged and violent.
I close my eyes, and I know that when I open them Édan will be gone.
I open my eyes slowly, almost hopefully, and Édan is gone, but the thing in my hand is not.