Council of War (17 page)

"I want a trip line set out tonight," Karl said softly.

"You expect bandits in this forest?" asked Shawn.

"No," frowned Karl, "but I want the line set out anyway."

"What is bothering you?" Clint asked with concern.

"I am not sure," admitted the Knight of Alcea, "but something is not right about this place. Surely, you can feel it."

"I can feel something," admitted Clint, "but I am not sure that a trip line will ease my feelings any. I do not think it is people that we need to fear in the Forest of Death."

"What do you think we should fear?" asked Karl.

"I don't know," conceded the Ranger. "If we had any other viable plan, I would advise turning around and getting out of here, but there is no other path of escape. We have chosen our route, and there is no turning back now."

"I agree," sighed Karl. "Just get the line out when you are done here."

Clint nodded, and Karl returned to the fire pit as Max and Gerant were bringing in fresh wood. Karl looked at the logs and could not see any difference between the new ones and the discarded ones. He looked questioningly at the Ranger.

"This is all that is out there," shrugged Max. "It is all the same. We will try just one log and see how it goes."

Karl stood quietly observing as Max placed a log in the pit and lit the kindling. For a while the flames of the kindling wrapped around the log and then the fireworks began again. Max immediately pulled the log out and stomped on it. Gerant stepped forward with a cube of black wood that he had carved out of the center of one of the logs. He placed that in the fire pit and watched. Several moments later, it also began spitting sparks into the air. The elf pulled it out of the pit and Max stomped on it.

"It is not the bark that is sparking," commented Gerant. "It is the wood itself."

"We will have a cold camp tonight," declared Karl. "If you can warm some tea over the kindling, fine, otherwise there will be no cooking."

There were murmurs of discontent from the group, but Karl ignored them. He knew that the group was well disciplined, and he had no fear of anyone violating his order. He found a spot of ground that was relatively free of the lumpy roots and sat down. He pulled out his map and tried to determine his likely position and estimate the time that they would have to spend within the confines of the Forest of Death. While he was studying the map, Lyron entered the camp with a rabbit he had killed. The elf stopped and stared at the fire pit with a frown of concern.

"That doesn't look much like a deer," taunted Gerant.

"It was the only thing I could find," Lyron replied good-naturedly. "Why is there no fire going?"

"Karl has forbidden it," answered Prince Rigal, "and wisely so. The wood of these trees is not suitable for burning, unless we want to be in the center of a firestorm. It will be cold camps until we run across another type of tree."

"And what am I supposed to do with this then?" scowled Lyron as he held out the rabbit he had just caught.

Karl ignored the banter as he studied the map and measured distances on it. The shout of pain immediately caught his attention, and the Knight of Alcea turned his head to see Lyron holding one of his hands with the other. A white blur dashed across the ground and into the trees.

"It bit me!" Lyron said, the astonishment evident in his voice.

"You are supposed to kill them before you eat them," teased Max Caber.

"It was dead," scowled the elf. "I don't need a Ranger to tell me how to hunt."

Karl tossed his map aside and got to his feet. He walked over to Lyron and took the elf's hand and examined it. The puncture wounds were deep and the blood was welling up and flowing over the hand.

"Shawn," Karl called out, "come over here and look at this."

The naturalist hurried across the clearing and took the elf's hand. He also frowned as he examined the wounds.

"We need to clean it," he said distractedly. "Gerant, see to cleaning it up while I get some aranille from my pack."

When Shawn went to his pack, Karl nonchalantly followed. He caught up to the Ranger and spoke to him in hushed tones.

"What do you think?" asked the Knight of Alcea.

"It is a serious wound," stated Shawn as he rummaged through his pack for some of the plants he had saved from the jungle.

When Karl didn't respond, the Ranger turned and looked into his face. "That isn't what you were asking, was it?"

"No," Karl replied. "I have seen the teeth of thousands of rabbits in my life. Those wounds could not have been caused by anything like them."

"I thought so, too," agreed Shawn, "but I was hesitant to say so. The Forest of Death has a reputation for making people crazy. I sure didn't want to be the first to proclaim that the rabbits here have a dental pattern more like a wolf than a rabbit."

"Get the salve on his hand," ordered Karl, "but say nothing to the others. You and I should talk about this after Lyron is cared for."

Karl Gree watched as Shawn Cowen tended to the elf's hand. On the other side of the clearing Prince Rigal and Gerant stood talking to Clint and Max. Karl decided to see what the conversation was about so he walked over and stood near the group.

"I cannot explain it," Prince Rigal said with frustration, "but I know Lyron well enough to know that if he said the rabbit was dead, it was dead."

"Do you realize what you are saying?" pressed Max Caber. "It might be a moment of levity at Lyron's expense to say that he had not properly killed the rabbit, but it is quite another thing to claim that a dead animal bit someone and then ran away."

"I understand the seriousness of what I am saying," retorted the elven prince. "I do not like the conclusions any better than you do, but I cannot imagine Lyron removing his arrow from the rabbit and not making sure the animal was dead. It is the elven way not to cause anguish to those creatures we kill to feed our families. "

"Prince Rigal is not talking about mere teachings of the elders," interjected Gerant. "Hunting is the essence of our lives. To inflict pain and anguish on an animal goes against everything in our culture. Verifying the lack of suffering is second nature to us. It is not something that we can just forget to do."

"But a dead animal biting someone goes against the very fabric of nature," countered Clint McFarren. "I am not saying that Lyron forgot anything, but I am finding it hard to accept the circumstances of this whole situation."

"I am as well," nodded Max as he glanced at the Knight of Alcea, "but I also find the lack of firewood disturbing. Perhaps we should ask Karl what he thinks. Was the animal dead, Karl?"

The others in the group turned around and saw Karl standing near them. Karl sighed heavily and stepped into the circle of warriors.

"I think there are many things in the Forest of Death that we do not understand," Karl stated. "It is important for all of us to keep an open mind and not argue among ourselves. I know each of you well enough to know that none of you would lie or disparage one another."

"You didn't answer the question," retorted Gerant. "Do you think the rabbit was dead?"

"Lyron reported it dead," Karl replied. "That is good enough for me."

"Then you believe the dead can still attack and run away?" frowned Max.

"Actually," Clint said hesitantly, "I have witnessed it before with the revenants in Tagaret. It was not animals coming back to life but people. Sarac had a band sworn to him called the Black Devils. They could only be eliminated by cutting their heads off. Any other death merely caused them a moment of hesitation."

"Sarac is dead," Max pointed out.

"But magic is not," declared Karl. "We know very little of Zaran magic. Let us not take anything for granted. Instead of arguing amongst ourselves over things we do not comprehend, let's work together to ensure that our campsite is secure."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the group split up and began making preparations to defend the campsite. Karl stood silently watching the preparations until Shawn walked over and interrupted his thoughts.

"The wound is cleaned and bandaged," the Ranger reported, "but I do not like the look of it. The hand is already swollen and discolored."

"Do you think it is infected?" asked Karl.

"Too early to tell," replied Shawn. "To tell the truth, I don't know what to make out of such a wound. He shows no signs of physical distress other than the pain of his wound, but we should keep an eye on him over the next few days."

"Do you still think it was the bite of a wolf?" asked Karl.

"A tiny wolf," nodded Shawn, "but yes. What in the world have we gotten ourselves into, Karl?"

"I don't know," admitted the Knight of Alcea, "but I will not breathe easy until we put this forest behind us."

After the preparations were made to defend the camp, the group sat down for a cold meal. Lyron left in the middle of the meal to retire for the night. Although Karl and Shawn exchanged concerned glances, neither of them felt a need to announce their concern. After the short meal, everyone stretched out to recoup from the stressing day. In minutes they were all asleep.

Karl's sleep was not restful. In his dreams the forest began to spin. It started spinning faster and faster until everything became a blur. Out of that blur came hideous creatures the likes of which he had never seen before. Each of the creatures had the toothy maw of a giant wolf, but that was the only thing that they had in common. Weird spiders, birds, and snakes chased after the Knight of Alcea, and he kept stumbling over the strange roots as he tried to get away from the attacking creatures.

About an hour before dawn, the bells started ringing. Everyone was immediately awake, and the warriors clawed for their weapons. The horses screamed with fright and fled, trailing their broken lines behind them. As the group waited for the commencement of the attack, Karl slowly pivoted around, looking for any sign of the enemy. Although the bells had pealed from every direction, he could see nothing moving in the dark forest. For several long moments, the warriors remained poised to defend the camp, but nothing happened. The forest remained silent, and there was no hint of any movement at all. As Karl gazed around again, he noticed that Lyron had not risen. He looked towards Shawn and nodded towards the elf once he had caught the Ranger's attention. Shawn sheathed his sword and silently padded over to Lyron's side. The elf was sweating profusely and did not waken to Shawn's attempts to rouse him. Several more minutes passed with no attack. Karl sighed uneasily and walked over to Shawn's side.

"He has a fever," Shawn announced softly. "I think he needs healing that I am not capable of giving."

"We are not likely to find a healer in the Forest of Death," Karl replied, "and we cannot return the way we came. Do what you can for him."

Karl returned to the center of the clearing and looked around once more. After several more minutes passed without an attack, he sheathed his sword.

"There is not much of the night left before dawn," he announced. "Once it is light enough, we need to recover our horses and get on our way. The trip will be a little harder as Lyron has come down with a fever. We may need to make a litter for him."

"I will handle that," offered Max Caber.

"I will look after Lyron," stated Prince Rigal. "I have some healing skills."

Karl raised an eyebrow at the prince's admission. He wondered whether or not the skills the prince spoke of included magic. He figured that such a question could wait for another time. He nodded to the elven prince.

Prince Rigal crossed the clearing and knelt next to Lyron. Shawn rose and walked to Karl.

"Am I going crazy or has the clearing changed since last night?" he asked Karl.

Karl frowned and pivoted once again. Slowly he nodded in agreement and wondered why he had not noticed it before.

"It is as if everything spun around during the night," Karl stated. "I had a nightmare about the forest spinning."

"So did I," admitted the Ranger. "That is why I was hesitant to say anything, but the trees have definitely moved. That large one over there was closer to those two smaller ones. I am sure of it. I gave a brief thought last night of rigging some kind of hammock between the two so I didn't have to sleep on these lumpy roots."

"Were there creatures in your dreams?" asked Karl.

"Scores of them," nodded Shawn. "And they were not normal creatures. Each of them was deformed in some way."

"But the mouth was always the same?" questioned Karl.

"The maw of a wolf," nodded Shawn. "I think it is time to share some things with the rest of the group. Whether it sounds crazy or not, we all need to know what the others know."

Karl nodded in agreement and called for everyone's attention. He explained about the nature of the bite marks in Lyron's hand and then described his dream. He was not surprised to learn that each of the men had similar dreams during the night. By the time everyone had related his own version of the dream, dawn had arrived. Clint and Shawn left the clearing to check on the bells while Gerant gave Max a hand fashioning a litter for Lyron. Karl walked to where Prince Rigal was kneeling next to Lyron.

"Do you have healing magic?" he asked softly.

"A bit," nodded the elven prince, "but not enough to really help him. I have calmed his fever a bit, but I fear he may be poisoned."

"Poisoned?" echoed the Knight of Alcea. "Do you mean an infection has set in?"

"I mean poisoned," repeated the elf. "I wish you had shared the nature of his wound last night."

"I didn't want to spook everyone unnecessarily," admitted Karl. "It is tough enough on everyone with all of the strange happenings."

"It is enough to unnerve even the solidest of men," agreed the elven prince, "but you must treat them as the warriors that they are. Each of them has put his life on the line for this mission. They deserve to know the truth."

"You are correct," nodded Karl. "Even the sailors are among the bravest men that I have ever served with. I will not unnecessarily withhold things in the future. Would it have helped Lyron any if I had told you last night?"