20412th Day of Fireseek, 566 CY
Suss Forest, The Wild Coast
For almost a full minute, the party stared at the spot where Aslan had just been.
They all then looked at each other and then all eyes turned to Elrohir.
The ranger took a deep breath of the early morning forest air and then nodded at his friends.
"All right, people. Finish breaking camp. It's time we moved on."
'Don't know why I once thought forests were pleasant places," muttered Zantac from the rear, shortly after they had set out.
"Most of them are."
Nesco Cynewine, currently walking alongside the Willip wizard as the Tri-Worldians' rear guard, gave him a wry smile.
"This one, however…" she trailed off.
The Suss was a dark and dreary wood; there was no denying it. The sky was currently sunny and most of the trees were bare, but it still seemed less light reached them on the forest floor than should have been the case.
All the trees were massive in size and blackened with age, and the creaking of their boughs in the wind somehow seemed more sinister to the party, even to the three rangers who were familiar with various woodlands.
Elrohir and Yanigasawa Tojo comprised the front line, although the Aardian ranger spent more time scouting around either hunting down small game with his bow, finding water or searching for signs of the obliviax than he did walking alongside the samurai.
The Bigfellows followed behind. Like Elrohir, Argo also spent much time wandering around, although never far from the party. There had been no sign of the memory moss, though the search had yielded a fair number of edible mushrooms which now resided in a sack tied to Caroline's belt.
Cygnus had the third row to himself now that Aslan was gone. The tall wizard spoke little, looking around occasionally but mostly keeping his gaze on the forest trail beneath his feet.
Brittle leaves crunched underneath their boots.
Up ahead, a large tree had partially fallen; it's fall arrested by a smaller neighbor, creating an archway of sorts. Although no one admitted it to anyone else, several breaths were held as the party passed underneath the arch and then released as nothing happened.
The sounds of birds were almost constant. The calls of songbirds and the knock-knock of woodpeckers surrounded the group.
Numerous nests were visible in the branches of the tall trees around them. Although none seemed occupied, a few were large enough that the thought of whatever creature must have utilized them was enough to generate several unsettled scenarios.
It was Nesco who eventually broke the silence.
"I hope we'll see Aslan again soon."
It seemed to Caroline that her husband was on the verge of making a snide- or at least sharp- remark to his fellow ranger, but when Argo finally spoke, his voice was calm.
"So do I, Lady Cynewine, but that is out of our hands."
"Aslan is bound to serve King Belvor, as we all are," added Elrohir, as he finished stowing the carcass of another rabbit into a sack. "And given Aslan's Talent, I imagine his Royal Majesty will be loathe to let him go that easily."
"Aslan's already spent four days teleporting all of us here," added Zantac. "He won't even have the chance to petition the king for a release until his patrol arrives back at Chendl."
"And that could take weeks," Nesco finished her own train of thought aloud glumly, while keeping the final part to herself.
And all because of me. Aslan made this promise to King Belvor all because I resigned from the Azure Order.
It was perhaps an hour later that Cygnus spoke up for the first time since their paladin's departure.
"Wainold said this part of the Suss was called Termlane, the Land of The Wandering Trees." The mage made a dismissive gesture. "Haven't seen any move yet."
Elrohir frowned. "Not sure we'd want to see that, Cygnus. I'd be happier just making contact with this Ruas that Wainold told us about."
"A werebear?" the wizard replied. "You're actually hoping to run into one?"
"Wainold said he could help us."
"To be precise," Argo put in, "Wayne's exact words were, Ruas might be able to help you, if he doesn't kill you all on sight for disturbing him."
Bigfellow considered his statement and then added, "Of course, if this Ruas truly is a friend of Wayne, it's no surprise he shares our druid friend's sunny disposition."
"We have three rangers between us, Argo," Elrohir responded. "I'm sure we can convince him we mean no harm to the forest."
"And who's going to convince me that the forest means no harm to us?" said Cygnus.
"Relax, Twiggy," piped up Zantac. "Haven't you ever listened to all those old heroic tales? As long as we stay on the path, we'll be fine. It's only when the heroes stray off the path that bad things happen to them."
An hour later, Cygnus turned around to cast a sour eye at his fellow magic-user.
"So which path is the safe path, O Teller of Tales?"
While not appreciative of his peer's tone, Zantac had to admit the Aardian wizard had a point.
Three separate trails diverged from the point in the path the Tri-Worldians now stood. The one on the right ran parallel to the main path for a hundred feet or so before veering further off. On their left, one path went straight to the left (east in their case, as the party was travelling south), while the other went off southeast.
"I don't see any reason for leaving the path we're on," Elrohir announced to the others after a brief ranger conference. "There's no reason to suspect this memory moss to be more prevalent at any one point than the next."
There were no dissensions, and the group continued on.
"By Odin's beard," murmured Elrohir.
Two hour later and another path left off the main trail, which had turned somewhat so that the party was now heading southwest. The newest offshoot headed ahead and to the left, which was due south by their calculations.
"Quite a number of trails here for such deep woods," said Nesco. "I'm surprised we haven't hit a tavern yet."
"I wouldn't mind that," Caroline said with a weak smile.
"Wayne said to head south," Argo said ruefully, "so I guess that's where we're going."
Cygnus rolled his eyes but Zantac cut him off before he could speak."
"We're still on a path, Ciggy, and with all these rangers around, it's not like we're going to get lost."
"For all these trails, we haven't met a single traveler today," the taller mage said. "Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
"Awso odd," Tojo now spoke up, "not see tracks of any other traverrers."
The samurai then pointed to the offshoot path.
"Those who keep paths crear for traverrers push reaves, stones and so forth to sides of trair to keep them crean," he added. "I not see any sign of that here, or on other side paths we not take before, unress I miss it."
There was a short silence.
"You haven't missed anything, Tojo," Argo Bigfellow Junior said, frowning as he looked around. "Even the main path doesn't have that detritus off to the side."
"So who's cleaning it?" asked Caroline to the group at large. "And how?"
"Who, I don't know," Cygnus said. "How is by magic. Druidical prayers, if I had to guess."
"Seems logical," Elrohir commented. "And if true, than it stands to reason that they want travelers through these woods to not get lost."
"Have you ever met a druid who cared a fig leaf for the welfare of travelers traipsing through their woods, Elrohir?" Cygnus' tone was sharp as the wizard shook his head. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all."
"Well, Cygnus," replied Elrohir, anger now starting to creep into his features, "our alternate is a trip north to the city of Molag, and since you're so dead set against that, then we have no other choice. We go south."
"Please," muttered Zantac. "Don't say dead. I'm scared enough as it is."
The party had consumed a brief lunch at the trail intersection (which improved everyone's mood somewhat), and the headed off down the path that led due south.
After about another hour's further travel, it happened.
Out of nowhere, a strong wind blew up. Leaves, sticks and stones battered the party, forcing them to cover their eyes.
The sound of wood creaking in the wind increased dramatically. Combined with the roar of the wind, it made conversation impossible. Vision, even if they dared to risk the flying debris, was limited to no more than a few yards due to the maelstrom of swirling leaves swept up from the forest floor.
And the Tri-Worldians seemed to be at the epicenter of it all.
After about a minute, the sudden gale started to wind down. It took another thirty seconds before the group was able to look around at their surroundings again.
And none of them, not even Yanigasawa Tojo, was able to conceal their amazement.
"Where," said Nesco Cynewine at length in a tiny voice, "did the path go?"
The Tri-Worldians were alone in the woods. The path they had been on might never have existed for all they could determine.
"I can't believe this," Zantac said, huffing and puffing as he returned from having retrieved his orange chapeau, which had blown away. "How could the wind have done all that?" he inquired of the group while stuffing the felt hat into his backpack.
"It wasn't just the wind, Zantac," Argo said.
The big ranger's hand, uncharacteristically, was trembling as he pointed at several spots around them.
"Some of these trees moved while that wind was blowing."
All eyes turned to Elrohir who, for once, seemed to have been ready for this.
"That way is due south, people," he said grimly, pointing. "It's the direction we were heading, and it's the direction we're still going. Keep even more alert- let's go."
Tension built with every step.
Whether the trees really were, almost imperceptivity, pressing in on them as they walked was a debate that seemingly had no resolution. Even the eagle-eyed Tojo could only shrug silently in frustration when asked if it really was happening.
Twice, boughs high above them broke with a loud crack and plummeted earthwards. No one was hit, but both times it was too close for comfort. If they had not been alerted beforehand by the sound, it might have been a far worse outcome.
The rangers were no longer hunting or gathering and had to will themselves to keep searching for the obliviax, as it was the only reason they were here in the Suss in the first place.
Once, Nesco Cynewine cried out in alarm, pointing at a nearby tree and stating that a branch had reached out to grab her. No one else, even Zantac, who had been walking alongside her at the time but looking off in the other direction, had actually seen this happen but at this point no one doubted her.
"Well," mumbled Elrohir as they set off again after this latest incident, "I guess I was wrong about this area not being hostile."
No one answered him, but the statement hadn't really been uttered for corroboration.
The ranger's thoughts were whirling around in his head as fast as any magically created wind.
A trap. I've led my friends into another trap. A cursed wilderness trap. I'm a goddamn ranger, and I couldn't see this coming. And Aslan isn't here to get us out of this.
He led them on only because he could see no other option.
After what seemed like hours, but was perhaps only one, it happened again.
The roaring wind. The blinding leaves. The pelting branches and stones.
When it at last died down, the Tri-Worldians unshielded their eyes and looked around, afraid of what horrible new vista might lay before them.
But the path was back.
"What in the Nine Hells was the point of that?" cried out Zantac, rubbing his right cheek where a flying stone had struck it.
Elrohir, however, looked thoughtful.
Even more than his daily longing for her, he wished his wife was here, as her knowledge of the divine might have proved conclusive. Still…
The ranger turned to address the two wizards.
"Cygnus. Zantac," he said, tilting his head at them. "Could this be something… automatic?"
The arcanist pair considered this.
"Possibly," Zantac admitted, nodding and running a hand through his hair- which was now even more unruly than usual- to remove twigs and leaves which were still clinging to it.
Cygnus frowned and looked around at the others.
"Does anyone know the history of this area.?"
"I don't, said Argo Bigfellow Junior, drawing a deep breath and then, as everyone around him flinched from the sudden movement, drew his longsword.
"But I know who does."
"Yes," Harve said, his tone less abrasive than usual. "I was forged in The Wild Coast and imbued with this knowledge and more to aid my owner, Lord Dak. Long ago- perhaps even a millennia- the Termlane was home to a Suloise druidical sect known as the Dridani. Although they kept to themselves as much as the druids of today do, tales of the great magic they kept hidden here, supposedly taken from the ancient Suloise Imperium, began to circulate to the outside world."
The group listened, enthralled.
"Then, perhaps at the turn of this century, a bandit warlord known as Bargol the Wicked invaded the Termlane, no doubt in search of this ancient knowledge. He and his men sacked the Dridani complex and slaughtered the inhabitants. Whether they found what they were seeking for (if it even ever existed) is unknown, but it is known for certain that they never made it out of the Termlane. As one of the few survivors told the tale, the forest closed in on them as they attempted to leave and a horde of creatures attacked them."
The party looked at each other. More than one deep breath was taken.
"Shortly after this, the humanoid hordes who had dwelt to the northeast were driven out by the Wild Coast inhabitants. Many fled into the Suss on their way to the Pomarj; the area became too dangerous for any expedition to be mounted to determine if anything remained of the Dridani."
The septet waited, but the sword said nothing more.
"I keep forgetting your sword has those stores of knowledge, Argo," Elrohir said. "Usually, it's not that much of a conversationalist."
"I'm surprised you don't utilize it more often," said Nesco.
"No surprise, my Lady," Harve abruptly spoke again. "Argo has no desire for his companions to be reminded that his weapon is more intelligent than he is."
"Not to mention far less clumsy," Argo said without missing a beat. "Whoops!"
And with that, the big ranger hurled Harve away, the longsword's blade slamming into the trunk of a nearby tree, where it hung there, quivering.
"Ow," came a soft whimper from the blade.
"You do realize," Cygnus said, a deep scowl on the wizard's face as he folded his arms and glared at his friends, "that Wainold must have known all this background as well. He couldn't see fit to tell us any of this?"
"I think we can all agree Wayne's not the chatty type," said Argo, having just returned after retrieving his blade.
"Be that as it may," put in Zantac pedantically. "This does support Elrohir's theory. Perhaps some dying curse of the chief Dridani, or even the spirits of the trees they worshipped, continue to discourage intruders to this day."
"Perhaps this curse was cause of death of person this moss steer memories from," offered Tojo.
"Kar-Vermin might have built his lair here for that very reason," mused Elrohir. "For the secrecy and security it would have offered. He himself would have little to fear, and the welfare of his minions wouldn't have been a concern to him."
"All right then," said Caroline Bigfellow after a moment. "Does knowing all this help us in any way?"
There was a brief silence.
"Your wife is a bit of a smartass, Argo," said Elrohir, but he had a smile on his face as he spoke. "You know that?"
"That's why no one asks me why I married her," replied Argo with his patented pained smile as he put his right arm over Caroline's shoulder and side-hugged her. She nestled up closer to him. "We're two of a kind."
"Follow the path, people," Elrohir said as he and Tojo started walking again. "For as long as we can, anyway."
After another half-hour or so of walking, the path ended at a T-intersection. The party could now go either left (east) or right (west).
Again, the rangers conferred.
"Going west takes us towards the Jewel River and the Principality of Ulek," Elrohir said at length. "I'm betting we want to stay in less settled lands. We'll go east."
"You have a loose definition of the word want," grumbled Zantac, but the party reformed their marching order and headed onward to the left.
Groans and curses filled the air as, after another thirty minutes on the trail, the wind sprang up again.
When it had gone, so too was the path.
"Getting used to this," Nesco muttered, plucking leaves out of her hair.
"Let's just hope," Elrohir said, his voice grim, "that this is the worst we'll have to endure."
Utilizing his knowledge of the wilderness, he continued to lead the group east.
Thirty minutes and one brief windstorm later, the path had reappeared.
"If only Bargol had splurged and hired a ranger," Argo commented, "he and his band would have been a lot better off."
The smiles the jest engendered were brief, but they were universal.
"I think it's time we called it a day," Elrohir said sometime later.
There had been no further windstorms, but the path continued on as far as they could see, backlit now by the setting sun. The ranger felt as much as heard the hesitation behind him.
"No way are we going to spot this obliviax without good light," he reminded the others. "We could walk right past it and not notice."
"Actually," Argo said, his pained smile now back, "since this stuff supposedly steals the memories of anyone who gets near it, what we're actually looking for is for you, me or Nesco to suddenly freeze up and start acting like an amnesiac."
"Oh," uttered Elrohir as the realization hit him.
He and Nesco exchanged sour looks.
"If that wind keeps whipping up," Zantac felt constrained to point out, "we won't get much rest."
"True," their party leader admitted, "but at least you won't have to worry about regaining spells, since you used none today. This is how that works, right?"
"Yes, that's how it works." Cygnus favored the Aardian ranger with a tight smile, then turned to Zantac and raised an eyebrow.
The red-robed wizard muttered a curse in Suloise and began to help set up camp.
The Suss was dark and quiet.
There had been no windstorms for several hours. Even the light breezes of the day had abated.
Outside the thirty foot or so radius of their campfire, the flickering light cast dim
shadows to about twice that distance.
There were no insect sounds. The temperature was just below freezing.
Cygnus kept his hands and his body near the flames for warmth.
It was second watch. Cygnus sat on the edge of the campfire facing west, while opposite him, in lotus position, sat Tojo.
The Yanigasawa samurai's eyes were currently closed, but that did not bother Cygnus in the least. The samurai would hear the softest approaching footfall way before he, Cygnus, would ever spot something.
Cygnus took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of the burning wood and
the remnants of the rabbits that had recently cooked upon it.
At least the mage had a full belly. That was something.
He was just about to yawn for perhaps the third time in the last minute when something caught his attention.
Shapes. In front of him, at the very edge of his vision, slowly moving forward.
Wolves.
In the moment in which it took the magic-user's brain to process this information, Yanigasawa Tojo's head had snapped around and the samurai had already risen to his feet.
Cygnus knew that seconds counted here. If the wolves charged, he'd never get a powerful enough spell off in time. The wizard's right hand was already pointing at the canines even as he leaned to his right enough to get a clear line of sight past the samurai.
As he had expected- and dreaded- the wolves sprang forward, baying loudly.
Cygnus was just uttering the command word for his ring of shooting stars when a small portion of his mind caught Tojo looking wide-eyed; not towards the approaching predators, but off to Cygnus' left.
"Cygnus-sama!" the samurai shouted. "On your-"
And Cygnus was again reminded of just how much seconds could count, and also what it really meant when rangers like Elrohir, Argo and Nesco said that wolves were pack animals when a large, grey, furry shape suddenly filled the mage's field of vision-
-from his left.
Sheer instinct swung Cygnus' arm around just as the ring discharged the fireball, which travelled perhaps three or four inches before detonating against the wolf attacking him.
And the very last thing that Cygnus of Aarde was reminded of yet again before he blacked out was that no matter how many times he experienced the searing, indescribable agony of being enveloped in fire; of being roasted by fire, was that it was far too terrible an experience for ever getting used to.
And also, that one day he would not wake up from it.
Cygnus awoke.
The pain that seemed to have been waiting for him grabbed hold of every nerve ending in his body.
The smoke that filled his nostrils now was not that of roasting rabbits, but of roasted human flesh.
Tears of torment filled his eyes, but they only added to his misery as the salty water touched the burned skin of his eyelids.
Breathing seemed more trouble than it was worth, as every inhalation brought fresh pain to his lungs.
Vision was a lost cause, but Cygnus could still hear the voices of his friends.
"Ciggy?"
Only one person ever called him that.
"Yeah, Zantac," the mage half wheezed/half whispered. "Still here."
He felt himself being gently lifted into a sitting position.
"Drink," his peer commanded.
Cygnus could only partially assist with the mug of water. The liquid felt good even as his parched throat protested against it.
The tall mage wished it had been a healing potion.
"Missing your wife, Elrohir," he managed.
A brief hand on his shoulder.
"You and me both, Cygnus."
Vision was starting to return, but most of the world was still an assortment of blurs.
"I'm really starting to think you should have this ring for good, Cygnus."
The wizard settled for shrugging instead of the chuckle he didn't dare try.
"No, Argo," he replied. "Just need to add Resist Fire to the spells I need to have memorized every day."
There was a brief silence.
"Um," said Zantac eventually. "That might be a problem for a while."
Cygnus' vision came back to a usable state at the same moment he realized he was no longer wearing his backpack.
He whirled around and saw all-too-quickly on the ground about three feet from him the melted, charred pile of debris.
The sudden intake of breath hurt but Cygnus didn't care. The mage's gaze flashed over to meet Zantac's sad, brown eyes.
"Your travelling spellbook," said the Willip wizard softly, "and the chimes of the mephit."
Cygnus stopped speaking for so long that the others decided to give him some privacy and continued their cleanup of the campsite. The wizard overheard that the wolfpack had fled when the explosion happened but he didn't really care about that.
When Cygnus did finally speak, his voice seemed so quietly resigned that the sound of it surprised himself as much as it did the others.
"Well," he said, "we work with what we've got."