Council of War (25 page)

"A hardy last meal," scoffed Gerant. "While I enjoyed the stew and the tea, I am not about to be taken unawares by the seemingly harmless old man. I do not believe that his coming here tonight was accidental. We should be extra careful while he is among us."

"You act as if you do not trust the old man."

"That is right," confirmed Gerant. "I do not trust him. We are a group of warriors, and we have already lost two men and our horses. How is it that he can travel the same path with only a mule and arrive here unmolested?"

"We have not lost two men yet," scowled Prince Rigal.

"Lyron is as good as dead," retorted Gerant. "You are avoiding my question. How could Fakir Aziz possibly get here without experiencing at least some of what we have?"

"I don't know," Prince Rigal admitted with a sigh. "I can construct a reasonable excuse for his not having experienced each of the strange things we have witnessed, but the truth is, I agree with you. It is highly unlikely that Fakir Aziz could get here without some knowledge of the things that have plagued us on this journey."

"I think he is in league with the demonic forces of this forest," declared Gerant. "That is the only reasonable explanation."

Karl Gree and Max Caber sat back to back staring into the dark forest. The woods were eerily silent, and a slight mist hung over the ground. The sentries had kept a low fire burning throughout the night, but it was starting to die.

"We need to get more bark," Max said softly.

"Dawn is not far off," replied Karl. "Let it wait until some of the others awaken. It would not do for us to abandon our posts to gather wood."

"Alright," agreed the Ranger. "You know, this forest doesn't seem quite so bad with a fire burning through the night."

"The fire certainly keeps the animals away," commented Karl, "but let's not forget that we are not in Alcea."

"You think there is something worse than animals out there stalking us?" asked Max.

"I don't know what to think," Karl admitted, "but I will take no unnecessary chances until we are out of these woods. While we have had no visit from the eyes tonight, I am not convinced that we are not being watched."

"I have felt that we are being watched since we entered the Forest of Death," Max frowned. "The feeling has been so constant that I have begun to ignore it."

"I haven't been able to ignore it," replied the Knight of Alcea as he stared at the thickening fog. "The mist is getting thicker."

Max gazed across the clearing as the fog rolled into the campsite. "I don't like this," he stated anxiously as he stood up. "I can't see anyone in the camp now. It's like looking down on a cloud."

Karl also rose to his feet and looked around. He thought he heard movement near the elves, but he couldn't be sure. "That came in awfully quick," he said softly. "Be alert. I am going to move around a bit."

"Don't step on anyone," cautioned the Ranger.

Karl heard a sound again, and he moved cautiously across the campsite, depending only on his recollection of where people were sleeping to guide him. He slowly moved to where he had thought that he had heard the sound and then stood motionless for several minutes. He heard no further sounds and started making his way back to Max. He had covered half the distance back to Max when his foot struck a body. He froze.

"That's an awfully rude way of waking someone," groused Fakir Aziz as he rose out of the mist.

"I am sorry," frowned Karl. "I thought you were sleeping more to the right."

"Ah, I see your problem now that my eyes are open," Fakir smiled as he looked at the fog. "It's a wonder you didn't trip over me. How long before dawn?"

"It's an hour away yet," answered Karl. "Go back to sleep."

"No sense in going back to sleep for only an hour," replied the historian. "I will go gather some more bark for the morning fire."

"Not until there is someone else to go with you," Karl shook his head. "No one leaves the campsite alone."

"Nonsense," balked the old man. "I arrived alone, didn't I? I am sure that I can handle myself long enough to get some wood."

Karl frowned and opened his mouth to object, but Fakir Aziz was already heading for the trees. He watched the old man alter his course as if he were detouring around something. That troubled the Knight of Alcea. Karl slowly made his way back to Max.

"What is the old man up to?" asked Max.

"He is off to get firewood," Karl replied distractedly. "I told him the camp rules, but he ignored me."

"I doubt that he will be able to find any wood in this fog," stated Max. "I suspect he will return shortly."

"I am not so sure," replied Karl. "He detoured around Clint's sleeping spot as if he could see him."

"Maybe he memorized the layout of the campsite like you did."

"Perhaps," Karl shook his head, "except Clint is not sleeping in the same spot as he was earlier in the night. He moved after his turn at watch."

"Maybe the old man's eyes are better than yours," chuckled Max. "I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it. He seems harmless enough."

A breeze suddenly moved through the campsite, and the fog twirled in the air as it thinned and dissipated. Ten minutes later the old man returned to the campsite. He made plenty of noise moving through the woods, and Karl waved him into the clearing when he saw him appear.

"This ought to last until we pull out," smiled Fakir as he entered the clearing with an armload of bark. "I'll just get the fire stoked up a bit and put on some tea."

"He acts like he doesn't have a care in the world," whispered Max. "Do you suppose he has been through these woods before?"

"He said that he hasn't," answered Karl.

The two warriors fell silent as they continued to watch the forest. A while later Fakir joined the men with cups of hot tea.

"This will take the morning chill out of you."

"Thank you," replied Karl as he accepted the cup of tea. He took a sip of the tea and looked at the historian. "Being a learned man, you must have heard many stories about the Forest of Death. Why aren't you afraid of it?"

"Fear never accomplishes anything," answered Fakir.

"Do you think the stories are false?" asked Max.

Fakir hesitated in thought for a moment before answering. "People tend to embellish things far beyond their experiences. When others retell the tales, the horrors grow even further. That is not to say that I totally disbelieve all the stories about the Forest of Death, but rather that I take them with a grain of salt."

"You will need no salt for our stories," stated Max. "Alando was killed when one of our horses bit him, and Lyron is dying because a rabbit bit him. This forest is cursed in some way. There is no denying that."

Loud voices emanated from near Lyron and Karl whirled around. Gerant was kneeling next to the litter, and Karl saw him pull a knife from his belt. He dropped the cup of tea and raced towards the elves. Max and Fakir followed him.

"Gerant!" shouted Karl. "Stop!"

The shouting woke everyone, and Gerant turned his head and stared at Karl with an expression of confusion on his face. Karl halted and stared down at Gerant.

"What are you doing?" he asked accusingly.

"Cutting Lyron's straps," Gerant replied. "He asked me to."

Karl's face clouded with confusion and he looked at Lyron as Prince Rigal appeared alongside him.

"I did ask him to," Lyron said. "Why am I tied up?"

Prince Rigal knelt next to Lyron and examined his teeth. He ran his hand over Lyron's arm and hand and shook his head puzzlingly.

"He seems to be fine," the elven prince announced. "Cut the straps, Gerant."

Gerant looked at Karl, and the Knight of Alcea nodded his permission. Gerant severed the cords, and Lyron sat up and looked around at everyone staring at him.

"Is there anything to eat?" asked Lyron. "I am famished."

"The fire is hot," replied Fakir. "I will get you some tea."

"He needs more than tea," stated Prince Rigal. "Gerant, take him to the fire and see that he gets a healthy meal."

Gerant rose and helped Lyron get up. The two elves moved across the clearing and sat next to the fire.

"It would appear that Lyron is not dying to a rabbit bite after all," Fakir said to Max. "I do hope we have some salt in the packs somewhere."

Prince Rigal looked quizzically at the old man and then spoke to Karl. "I don't understand it. I thought we had lost him for sure, but his arm and hand are fine. The original wound has even healed nicely. It's as if it never happened."

"Keep an eye on him," Karl replied. "I will take nothing for granted in this forest."

Prince Rigal nodded in agreement and moved towards the fire.

"Maybe that was the noise you heard earlier," Max said to Karl. "Perhaps Lyron was struggling with the cords binding him."

"That is possible," Karl conceded as he gazed around the campsite. "As long as everyone is up, let's get the morning meal over with and get out of here."

The sky was beginning to lighten as the Alceans cleaned up the campsite and waited to depart. Lyron seemed to be his old self, and the spirits of everyone were higher than they had been in days. Clint retrieved his markers, which had not moved during the night, and prepared to take the lead. Fakir Aziz led his mule to Clint when he saw the direction the Ranger was preparing to go.

"I would suggest a bit more to the right," the historian said softly.

Clint looked at the old man with a puzzled frown. "Would you now? And what makes you think that is north?"

"I can feel it in my bones," smiled Fakir. "I guess it is a gift."

Fakir walked away, leaving the Ranger scratching his head. Karl Gree approached the Ranger and asked what the old man had said.

"He thinks north is slightly more to the right than I do."

"How sure are you?" asked Karl.

"I'm not very sure," admitted Clint, "but this is my best estimate based on the small amount of time we saw the sun yesterday."

Karl turned around and gazed at Fakir who had moved to the rear of the column. He turned and looked at the woods before him and sighed with the weight of the decision.

"Humor the old man," Karl finally decided. "It is not that much different than your proposed path, and you can make a check later in the day."

Clint nodded and started out of the clearing. Karl stood as everyone walked by until Fakir was leaving the clearing. The Knight of Alcea started walking alongside him.

"I see that your man has decided to take my advice," stated Fakir. "It is a wise man who can take the advice of others."

"It is a wiser man who tests the value of advice before blindly accepting it as wisdom," retorted Karl. "I told Clint to follow your suggestion. We will learn the validity of your hunch later on."

"Fair enough," smiled Fakir. "I see the elf has recovered quite well. That must be quite a relief for you. Why are you taking elves to Tyronia?"

The question caught Karl off guard, and he hesitated before issuing the standard reply. "We are caravan guards. We are heading to Tyronia for work."

"Can't say as I have ever seen a caravan with elven guards before," mused the old man. "One has to wonder who will be more shocked by that, the bandits or the Federation?"

"We try to maintain silence on the trail," Karl replied. "I need to make sure that we are not being followed. You continue onward with the rest of the group, and I will catch up shortly."

Karl stopped and let the column continue onward. Max and Shawn were the last two in the column, and Karl tagged Max to stop with him. They waited until the column was almost out of sight before Karl opened his breast pocket and stirred Peanut to life. He instructed the fairy to go to Garth and report on their status.

"I am not comfortable having fairies flying around in this forest," Karl added. "I want you to fly straight up until you are above the canopy. After you deliver the message, time your return for the morning meal. We will have a fire going, and you should not dive through the canopy until you locate us."

"And be stealthy with your return," added Max. "Remember that we have an outsider in the group. You should not be seen."

* * *

Clint halted the group a little before high sun. There was a huge clearing in the trees, but the Ranger had not given the signal to break for a meal, so Karl made his way to the front of the column. Spread out before the group was a ring of giant trees around the clearing and all of them were charred on the side closest to the clearing. In the center of the clearing was a bubbling pool of thick, red liquid. The land surrounding the pool was bleak and appeared fragile.

"I wouldn't get too close to it," advised Clint. "It looks like lava."

"Can we get around it?" asked Karl.

"We can," nodded Clint, "but it is an ideal place to take a reading on the sun. The break in the canopy is large, but I will need to move through the woods to the west for a bit. Can I take Chanz with me?"

"Why Chanz?" asked Karl.

"As a mate on the ship," explained Clint, "he may have a different way of measuring direction. I would like to compare the two. If we have indeed been traveling due north, we can put more faith in the old man's feelings in the future."

"Keep a careful eye on him," nodded Karl. "Remember that he is not a woodsman."

Clint nodded in agreement and signaled for Chanz to come forward. He explained what he wanted to do, and the two Alceans backtracked along the trail before turning to the west and disappearing. Karl watched the lava pool as it bubbled and sometimes sent high spouts of fire into the air. After a while, Karl grew anxious about the delay. He told the men to take their meal break as casually as he could, but he was worried about having to go after Clint and Chanz. Just as he was about to get Max to accompany him, the two Alceans appeared. Chanz went to join the sailors while Clint reported to Karl.

"You were gone a long time," Karl said softly.

"Sorry," replied Clint, "but I saw things that needed to be investigated. There is an old overgrown road leading to the lava pool. At the end of it is a stone altar that I think was used for sacrifices. The stone is discolored as if blood has stained it year after year."