Having given up hope of reaching the Forest Road before the massive army from Paragory, the twelve trekked south and west through the Blackwood. The terrain did not improve, and so their progress remained slow. Kaliam did not want to stop, but he felt and saw the weariness that they all bore. He allowed the team to halt—but only for enough time to catch their breaths or eat something quickly from their provisions. There was no time for fires.
Lady Merewen handed Antoinette a full waterskin. “Please, take this to replace your own.”
“And one of mine,” Aelic said.
Antoinette smiled warmly at her friends and took a long drink from one of the skins. “Thank you,” she said to them. And they were off again, seeking the road at the best speed they could manage.
“Hold!” Nock suddenly yelled from the front of the team.
“Is it the Forest Road?” Mallik called out hopefully.
“Nay,” answered the archer. “But it may be something of value to us. Come and look.”
The rest of the twelve caught up and found Nock examining a broken blackwood sapling.
“How in The Realm did you see that in this ruinous forest of shadow?” Mallik asked.
“In Yewland, the finest archers train their eyes to hunt in the darkness,” Nock replied. “I am in my element among the trees. Tobias, come tell me what you think.”
They followed as Tobias and Nock slowly advanced. Branches of young trees had been roughly hewn, gouges had been cut into the base of the larger trees, and some saplings had been broken nearly in two.
Tobias bent very low to the ground and strained to see. “Look here,” he said. “There are the imprints of a small band of warriors. No more than a hundred, I would guess.”
“The Glimpses of Yewland would not dare to harm the trees in this forest,” said Nock. “So I can only conclude that the enemy made this path.”
“Nock, I do not believe it was the force we saw this morning,” Tobias said. “Do you agree?”
The archer nodded. “Tobias is right. This path was made by a force numbering a hundred or less—rather smaller than the several legions observed before. It is also clear from the cuts in the wood and the coverage of the tracks that this path is far too old—made perhaps even as long ago as a full season.”
“So what does that mean?” asked Sir Rogan.
“It means,” said Lady Merewen, “that the enemy has been prowling the Blackwood without our knowledge for some time.”
“Stealing this precious wood for their weapons, no doubt,” said Nock with a sneer.
“I wonder,” replied Kaliam, and he was quiet.
“Their trail heads in more or less the direction we wish to go,” said Tobias. “Shall we follow and see what may be seen?”
“Yes,” Kaliam said. “I think we should.”
The twelve had little trouble following the winding path of their foes, for the Paragor Knights had left behind quite a trail of destruction. They had gone perhaps a mile when Nock said, “It could be that my memory is flawed or perhaps some trick the shadows play upon my eyes, but something about this way seems familiar to me.”
“But you said this path was made by Paragor Knights, that your kin would not destroy the trees,” said Antoinette.
“No, Lady Antoinette, we do not harm the trees. We collect the fallen, but only what the forest gives us. But there is something I remember, ah—I cannot be sure.”
A little farther up the path, Kaliam stopped the group. “There is a strange smell in the air,” he said, and his brows furrowed deeply. “It is very faint. Do any of you smell it also?”
“I have been running behind Sir Mallik,” said Farix. “The only thing I have smelled is his great stench!”
“Ha! Very amusing, Master Farix.” Mallik grinned. “Just be glad I have not been eating the spicy cuisine of my Blue Mountain kin. That would indeed be a rude aroma!”
Everyone shared a laugh, except Sir Oswyn. “No, Kaliam is right. There is a scent on the air. It smells of something burned . . . of charred wood.”
For a moment Nock stopped and stood transfixed. Then he said cheerfully, “Now I know why this seemed so familiar! This is the way to the Arch of Reverence! The passage to the Ancient One! Come, follow me, and prepare to see one of the great wonders of The Realm!” And he sprinted up the path.
The rest of the twelve followed swiftly. At last they came to a place where the trees lined up on both sides of the path, and their immense boughs arched in such a way as to form a natural tunnel. Nock stopped at the entrance, grinned broadly, and then raced into the forest tunnel. The others followed close behind.
Antoinette was in awe, staring at the tunnel as she ran. The smooth black trunks formed the sides of the tunnel, and the great boughs above intertwined so closely that no light illuminated their path. Soon, they walked in total darkness. “The smell of smoke grows stronger,” Sir Oswyn whispered.
They emerged in a vast clearing, and the twelve found it easier to see compared to the profound darkness in the tunnel.
Nock doubled over and fell to his knees as if he had been punched hard in the stomach. “Nooo!” he cried. “Please, noooo!”
In the center of the clearing, a great tree had been felled. Such a tree, Antoinette had never seen. It was impossible to tell how tall it had been, for its treetop had crashed into the forest beyond the clearing. Its trunk was as thick as a house, and gigantic limbs sprawled away from it in every direction. But its limbs were bare, and it was now plain why the air reeked of smoke. The great tree had been burned, charred to a husk in many places. All that remained unburned was a vast circular stump.
“Why?” Nock cried. “Why do this thing? They could have taken all that they needed and more from the deadfall! Why slay Sil Arnoth, the Ancient One?!”
Mallik stood by Nock and put a hand on his shoulder. “Nock, my friend,” he said in a very low voice. “There are many great trees among the blue sequoias of my homeland—magnificent, sturdy, and towering. But I have never seen an equal to this one. And something about it speaks to me of its history. I am sorry for your loss.”
“He is the firstborn of all trees in The Realm, the grandest of all the great ones. When we were young, Bolt and I used to climb in his lowest branches while our parents collected fallen limbs. I do not understand . . . why lay him low for lumber when there was no need?”
Sir Gabriel strode along a stretch of the fallen giant. “I do not believe the enemy was after the wood of this great father of trees,” he said. “For there are no signs of harvesting—only fire.”
“They did this out of their own depravity, then,” Mallik muttered. “I will lay low the one who took an axe to this great tree.”
Nock stood up and smiled at his hammer-wielding friend. “That is only if you can get to him before one of my arrows finds him. But I wonder if either of us will want to face the warrior mighty enough to fell the Ancient One. And I wonder that there exists an axe blade so sharp as to cut through the King of Blackwoods.”
“Nock, come and look at this!” Lady Merewen said. She stood by the enormous stump of the fallen tree.
Nock and the others joined her and gasped at what they saw. The stump was thirty feet across and yet the cut was not ragged. It was as if an enormous blade had swept through the tree’s base, felling it in one stroke. “Verily, you are right about the warrior and the weapon,” Lady Merewen said. “For no ordinary axe could have shorn through this mighty bark, leaving a cut so clean. Mark my words, Paragor’s dark arts are behind this tragedy.”
“I do mark them,” said Sir Gabriel. “And I mark something else as well. Blackwood trees are not known to have a hollow in the center, are they, Nock?”
“No, they are not,” Nock replied, and he sprang lightly up onto the stump. He tread carefully over the myriad of gray rings until he came to the center. There, he knelt and peered into a dark hole.
“I do not know how far down it goes,” Nock said, reaching into the hole. “It may pass beneath the ground even. But this is most unusual. Blackwood trees are solid to the core. Why the Ancient One has this strange hollow, I cannot say.”
“Could it have been done after the tree was felled?” asked Lady Merewen.
Kaliam sighed. “Too many questions, and far too few answers. I am afraid that we shall never know unless we capture those who felled this great tree.”
“The Ancient One may yet bring us a few answers,” Nock said. “For I kneel upon one of the most precious libraries in all The Realm.”
“What do you mean?” Mallik asked.
“The rings,” Kaliam whispered, staring at the huge stump with interest. “Nock, you read rings?”
Nock smiled proudly. “My family descends from a long line of readers, taught by King Eliam himself when Yewland was but a settlement. Bolt was better at it than I, but I may be able to glean something of value.”
Nock lay on the stump and traced his finger along the tiny gray ring that encircled the hollow center. He mumbled something and frowned. “When the center was removed,” Nock said, “many of the Ancient One’s first years were lost. This ring speaks of the sprouting of his first saplings, the beginning of the Blackwood Forest. He was very proud.”
“You mean this tree speaks?” Antoinette asked.
“Are you surprised?” Kaliam asked. “I believe you had a conversation with a mortiwraith in the chambers beneath the Castle of Alleble, did you not?”
“Yeah, but a tree?”
“The rings of most trees tell only the most general tales: those of fires, floods, or extremely cold winters,” Nock explained. “But King Eliam gave the blackwood trees a different kind of awareness. They do not have eyes or ears, but through wind and soil, bark and leaf, they sense much more than ordinary trees. And for those who have the skill, their rings tell fantastic tales.”
Antoinette looked down at the wood and ran her own finger along the sketchy gray circle nearest the edge. She wondered what the Ancient One said near the end of his very long life.
“He speaks of visits from the Master,” Nock said, reading from the center rings. “‘Long did the Master recline in my shade,’ he says, ‘and he spoke many kind things to me and told me of his plans.’”
“I can only guess how profoundly this history touches your heart, Nock,” Kaliam said gently. “But we need to discover more recent events.”
“You are right, of course, my Sentinel,” he replied. “I will progress outward more rapidly. Ah, here—this ring is disturbed! Let me read.”
Nock was quiet a moment. And then he began to read aloud. “‘Horror! Sorrow! A dark one has destroyed Torin! Alas!’ Let me skip a few circles now. ‘The Master brings them to me, and yes, my children will hold them down, keep them deep forever more! Sleep, foul ones. Sleep.’”
“The Seven Sleepers,” said Sir Oswyn.
“Yes,” Nock replied. “Wait, there is more here. ‘Will I keep it? The Master asks me to. I will. I will lock it in a place where no one will look. Though there are dark things now dwelling among my trees, they will not get it.’”
“What does that mean?” asked Aelic.
“I do not know,” said Nock.
“Nor I,” said Kaliam.
“Maybe that’s why there’s that hollow part in the center,” Antoinette suggested. “Maybe King Eliam put something there for safekeeping.”
“That makes sense.” Kaliam nodded. “But what was it? Nock, read on. See if you can determine what ‘it’ is.”
Nudging himself a few inches at a time, Nock followed the same ring around the massive stump. “Nothing so far. He tells of the arrival of Glimpses, the tree-dwellers, he calls them. He must mean my ancestors, the founders of Yewland! Remarkable! He speaks here of a terrible storm and of a fire started by lightning.”
Antoinette suddenly felt very cold.
“Here, he tells of the invaders with weak roots. ‘They hem my children in, but they cannot thrive among us. They will not drop seed here. This is the land given by the Master to the Firstborn. We will keep it pure.’”
“Nock, I am sorry,” Kaliam said. “But we must press on.”
“Wait, here, let me read far ahead. See, there is a break! I shall read. ‘I am afraid,’ says the Ancient One. ‘Something wicked has come. He touches me, and he is cold. He cannot have it. He does not have the power to take it!’” Antoinette and the others hung on each of Nock’s words.
“Here again,” Nock continued. “‘The dark one returns. He threatens to hew my children. He threatens fire. But I am loyal, Master. It remains safe.’”
“This is maddening!” Sir Rogan grunted.
“There is much here about his children,” Nock went on, skipping many rings and dwelling only on those that were broken or disturbed. “He is sad because one of his sons fell near the river. And here, he loses a limb to the wind. Let me see, no broken lines until . . .”
Nock slid around until he came to the last ring. Then he stared, and his face contorted with sadness. He began to read aloud. “This is just before the end. ‘The dark one has returned,’ he says. ‘He is not alone this time. There are many soldiers. They bring a burning blade. I am sorry, my Master. I withheld it as long as I could. Agony! Agony! I am fading. He is near to it. I am sorry, Master. He must not have it all. If I can, yes, I will try, but he is so close to it now. I try to keep some, but his reach is long. I am sorry.’ And there is no more.”
“The dark one?” Tal asked.
“Lady Merewen was right,” said Kaliam. “It was Paragor. For who else in all The Realm is so bent on the destruction of noble things? But what was it that he stole? And how did he know that it was hidden there, within the Ancient One?”
“It must have been something of extraordinary power,” Sir Gabriel said, thinking aloud. “But The Scrolls of Alleble speak of no such relic or heirloom.”
“And what did Sil Arnoth mean by trying to keep some?” Nock asked, glancing back at the hollow in the center of the tree.
“That seems clear enough,” Kaliam said. “The firstborn tried to keep Paragor from getting all of this powerful item, but in the end, he was overcome. Alas, if it is some perilous weapon, that he was not able to keep it hidden!”
Antoinette looked around the gray rings, spiraling round and round until they disappeared into the hollow. No one spoke.
Finally, Mallik broke the silence. “I do not know the answers to these questions, but we will not find them standing around here.”
