The Sword of Darrow (11 page)

H
igh in the mountains, the last gasp of winter struggled against the awakening spring. Small patches of snow lay far apart on the ground and the frozen dew painted the landscape with swaths of sparkling white.

His great journey under way, Darrow hardly knew enough to be afraid. In his whole life, Darrow had ventured barely ten miles from Ael. He did not know the way to the forest or how to find this uncle of his once he was inside. He carried no sword and possessed no knowledge of the tactics of war. He was armed only with belief—a belief in the victory to come.

Each step, awkward though it might have been, was infused with purpose. In every fiber of his body, he felt strength he had never known.

On the second day of his journey, the path rose and he found himself standing before a cliff. Beneath him lay a great forest. To the right of the forest stretched a great plain. At first, this plain was speckled with woodlands, but toward the east the trees gradually thinned, giving way to what seemed an endless expanse of grass. The grass was still brown from the winter, and far, far away, it painted a perfectly straight line between land and sky.

“It’s completely flat,” thought Darrow who had never seen land like this. “Perhaps this forest is Hexenwald.”

To him, the tiny kingdom of Sonnencrest seemed vast and endless. He stepped back into the road, bounding ahead, eager to explore what lay below.

The sun began to set and Darrow turned from the trail to find a place to sleep. At the side of the road, behind a tree, he found a pile of leaves. With his foot, he began leveling the pile. A voice cried out.

“Can’t a man sleep in peace?”

Darrow jumped back.

From the leaves rose a head. The head was hairless and covered with splotches of dirt. One ear was gone and his small eyes squinted so tightly Darrow wondered how he could see. He stood up, his hands on his hips. He was a dwarf, heavyset, and even shorter than Darrow.

“I am sorry, good sir,” Darrow responded. “I was only making a bed myself. You were completely covered by the leaves!”

“You’d cover yourself, too, if the goblins were after you!”

Darrow’s interest perked up. Perhaps this dwarf might join his band.

“What are you wanted for?”

“Tasting.”

“Pardon? Is tasting a crime?” asked Darrow, wiping his mouth.

“It’s a job, clunkhead. I tasted food for the goblin who ruled our village. He likes using dwarfs. Poisons work quicker in wee bodies.”

“Were you poisoned?”

“Not one bit. But that sorry spunkernick got sick, he did. And the blame was on me. I was lucky to escape with just the loss of one ear. That fish was delicious and healthy to boot, if you want my professional opinion.”

“Another citizen wronged,” thought Darrow, seizing his chance.

“Then perhaps you will join me. I am recruiting an army to fight the goblins.”

For some time, the dwarf looked at Darrow, a boy, small, and with no weapon. He could summon no reply.

“Well, if you won’t join me, then perhaps you will help me. I need to find the Hexenwald Forest. Is it far?”

“What makes you interested in Hexenwald?” the dwarf asked, stepping back, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m looking for a wise man.”

“If he was so wise, he wouldn’t be in that forest. That forest is full of bat spiders. Have you ever seen a bat spider?” the dwarf asked.

Darrow admitted he had not.

“They have twelve legs and two tiny wings. They perch in the branches where they wait until their victim falls asleep. Then they leap. Those wings help them hover in the air so when they land, it’s so softly that the victim never wakes. Then they suck its blood. They roam in packs, and they can suck you dry in a firefly’s flash.”

“Well, I will have to stay awake,” Darrow replied.

“You can’t go there anyway. It is a six-day journey across the plains. And you can’t travel without the goblins’ permission.”

“Do you have permission?” Darrow asked.

“I do not. And I do not live on the plains.” With that, the dwarf grabbed his belongings and scurried away into the forest.

Two days later, not heeding the dwarf’s warning, Darrow was walking through the plains of Sonnencrest. The fears of the taster had not come to pass. No goblin had stopped him and for good reason. Who would fear a boy, small and lame, who walked alone with little more than the clothes on his back? But he had expected to meet his uncle by now. He had no more food and his stomach ached with hunger.

He spied an old woman, moving slowly, with a heavy load on her back.

“May I help you with your sack?” Darrow asked, hoping his assistance might lead to an offer of food.

“I’ll take any help I can get,” the woman replied practically throwing her bag to the ground. Darrow leaned over to grab the sack. It was heavy, but with one heave, he was able to swing it across his shoulder. But almost as soon as the bag was on his back, Darrow jumped to the side, dropping his load.

“It’s moving,” he exclaimed.

“Of course it’s moving. It’s snakes, you idiot!”

“Snakes!” Darrow was confused. “Why?”

“Haven’t you heard?” the woman replied, with a tone of disgust. “The goblins love them. Snake soup. My boys catch them, and I sell them. It’s not much, but it’s a living.” She stared at him curiously. “Where have you been these last ten years?”

Darrow once again positioned the wiggling sack on his back. “I live in the mountains.”

“I guess there ain’t many snakes there. So where are you headed?”

“Hexenwald.”

“Well, snakes will be the least of your worries there. Have you ever heard of a griesonaut?”

“Griesonaut?”

“What mountains do you come from?”

“The ones to the south.”

“Well, you might want to learn some things they’re not teaching over there. These griesonauts look like lizards, ’cept they’re long as a man. They have fur and webbed feet. They hide in the bogs. But they travel to the edge of the forest to grab dogs, children, or even grown women. Then they carry them back to eat. People won’t live near that forest anymore. There’s no controlling those creatures.”

She paused and looked Darrow up and down.

“A runt like you would barely make them a good meal.”

Darrow considered the griesonaut attack and the tactics he might use. Thinking of none, he spoke again.

“Have you heard of a wise man named Asterux?”

“He’s no wise man.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause he’s a wizard.”

“A wizard?”

“He has powers. Good powers, so I heard. He must be dead.”

“Why is that?”

“If there was any magic for the good, do you think we’d all be catching snakes for them goblins?”

Darrow stopped, absorbing this news. His uncle was a wizard, but he might be dead, and the forest was a very dangerous place. Well, no one said it was going to be easy.

“Can you tell me how I can find him?”

“No.”

“Not even which part of the forest?”

“No one knows.”

Her tone was so sharp. For a long time, they walked without words, but Darrow was hungry for conversation.

“What did you do before the goblins came? Did you always catch snakes?”

“I don’t catch ’em. I just sell ’em. In the old days, I told fortunes.”

“Will you tell mine?”

“I don’t tell them anymore. They are all bad. Yours? You are traveling alone into the Hexenwald Forest with no weapon, looking for a wizard you will never find. You don’t need me to know your fortune.”

Darrow smiled at this warning.

“If things were so predictable, we wouldn’t need fortune-tellers, would we?”

For the first time, the woman smiled.

“Give me your hand.”

Darrow set the snakes on the ground, gripping the bag with one hand. The woman did not look at his palm but wrapped his hand between both of her own and closed her eyes. For a long time she stood silent, then she opened her eyes. She was shaking.

“What did you see?” asked Darrow earnestly.

“Beware of the words of a loved one, for they mark the path of death.”

Darrow gulped. “And what will be the outcome?”

She grabbed the bag from Darrow’s hand and turned to walk away.

“But what is my fortune?” Darrow called after her.

“I told you. I do not tell fortunes anymore.”

It was the morning of his fifth day on the plains. He was half a day from Hexenwald. Darrow thought often of bat spiders and griesonauts, but a short life did not frighten him. A hero’s death was far better than life in Ael.

What troubled Darrow was the work before him. He was heading to the forest to find this uncle of his and he did not know the way. Worse, his uncle might even be dead. With or without his uncle, he would need to recruit an army, yet he knew not a single person outside of Ael. He would need weapons, yet he had never held a sword in his hand.

The road was almost empty. Occasionally, a villager walked by and a wagon or two passed, traveling to or from a farm.

The faint sound of hoofbeats told Darrow a horseman was approaching. Darrow continued to walk, not bothering to look.

The hoofbeats grew louder and soon a rider appeared, a goblin, dressed in a black coat with shining green trim, the uniform of the goblin cavalry. He rode past Darrow, hardly looking at the lame boy, but not long after he passed, the horse reeled and the rider looked back. At a slow canter, he approached Darrow.

“Where is your permission, young man?” he inquired in a voice that was a bit too polite for a goblin.

Darrow answered without hesitation. “I have none.”

“Then why are you traveling?”

“I am going to see my uncle. Why should I need permission to visit my uncle?”

The soldier was amused.

“Give me a reason why I should not arrest you or strike you down on the spot.”

“There are many good reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“What is your reward for ruling this poor kingdom?”

“Ha! There is no reward. In this wretched kingdom, there is nothing more to steal!”

“You are right. It must be a misery to rule a people so sad and pathetic. But what if things changed? What if these people suddenly awoke, worked hard, and became more prosperous? Surely you must be weary of a kingdom in such total despair?”

“Indeed,” said the goblin, enjoying Darrow’s words.

“Well, then you should know that my uncle is a wise man who wants to advise me on how our people might lift themselves up and rebuild our country. He believes your reign might be changed for the better. Perhaps you should escort me to my uncle’s home.”

“Well,” replied the soldier, laughing out loud. “That is quite a task indeed. And where does this uncle of yours live?”

“In the forest.”

The soldier’s just shook his head. “Well, I suppose you’ll be no threat to anyone for long.”

With those words, the officer turned his horse and galloped away.