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Tales From The Dark Forest
(Just writing for fun, don't expect a literary masterpiece or good grammer/spelling lol, but I hope someone enjoys my stories.)
Chapter 1 Whispers
“Oxfern, Sunbloom and Greymoss!” came a loud voice from the front of the shop.
Zane had fallen asleep in the back room, in his chair at the crafting table, slumped back, pestle still in his hand and an unfinished grind of Feywort still in the mortar.
“Zane!” came a now agitated shout from the door leading to the front shop.
Zane jumped at the shout; his chair snapped back and he accidentally kicked the leg of the crafting table as he flinched, sending vials of herbs flying everywhere, some shattering on the stone floor. A woman peered around the doorpost, her eyebrows at an angry angle. She sighed and her head dropped at the sight of the mess. He quickly started cleaning up, glancing up at her now and then with an awkward smile.
“You know, if your parents hadn’t been such a dear friend of the family, I would have left you to the wolves,” she said as she disappeared back into the front of the shop.
“Sorry Miss Thornhill,” he said in muted tone, knowing she didn’t accept apologies, only action.
On all fours he carefully brushed up all the vials and herbs, then quickly prepared the ones he heard her asking for while half asleep, hoping they were the right ones. Fortunately they were and the rest of the day went without incident or quarrel, and soon it was time to head home.
“Fix the sign would you Zee,” Miss Thornhill asked as Zane left down the cobbled path winding between the flowerbeds in front of the shop.
He turned the wooden sign at the front gate to show “Apothecary Closed” and looked back at Miss Thornhill as he walked down the path to town to try and gauge her demeanor, trying to figure out if she was still angry about the mess he made earlier. She took off her apron and loosened her long blond hair that was kept tied up during the day. A breeze played with her hair, and as the sky darkened for the evening her blue eyes stood out, and Zane felt a bit lost for a moment. They grew up together, played together as kids, but now she was his employer. He wondered why she was always alone, not entertaining any company or even visiting the town. Unexpectedly, his foot caught a loose cobble and he stumbled to his knees, but he quickly jumped back up trying to save face. He glanced back at her again and she was laughing, then she waved and went into the shop.
“So stupid,” he said, grabbing his face and shaking his head.
The road turned left through the birch forest, then opened up at the stone bridge that crossed the Lonely river. Zane glanced at the town sign that hung over the bridge that read: “Welcome to Moonspring.” He shook his head at the ‘welcome’ part. He did not care much for the people there; he never felt like he fit in. As the light of lamps and candles started to come on in town, he felt like they were the eyes of beasts opening and menacingly staring at him, so he decided to just sit on the side of the bridge for a while. Maybe Miss Thornhill felt the same about the town and that's why she stayed out there at the shop, he thought.
She was only about two years older than him, and took over ownership of the apothecary for her parents who had left for their property in the new world a few years ago. Zane thought of her kindness in giving him a place to work after what happened to his own family and their business, even though she probably didn’t really need him. No wonder she also didn’t fit in in this twisted town. He sighed ashamed, thinking about how he fell asleep earlier and let her down.
He was still sitting on the side of the bridge when gloominess overcame him. The moon rose over the trees, and some of his tears made ripples in the calm water below as he recalled the fire and the screams. It happened a long time ago but the terror in his mother’s eyes still broke him whenever he failed to hide from her memory.
The breeze intensified, carrying the scent of Miss Thornhill’s garden flowers all the way from her shop, down there to the bridge. It was some comfort, since working at the apothecary felt more like home than his small room above the tavern and its noisy patrons did. Somewhere along the road the breeze must have scooped up a paper notice, and it drifted over to Zane and stuck to his shoulder. He took it and turned it over.
“Attention all peoples of Greenvale Province:
By order of his Majesty Reginald Haven, all men twenty years and older must report to the regional recruitment offices for mobilization into his lordship’s army in service of his endeavors to defeat the Areven invasion. Consult local administration for details.”
“Great, I’m twenty in a month,” Zane said under his breath.
Just then, as if mixed with the breeze there came a whisper, barely noticeable, but he sat up trying to hear it clearly. For a moment he thought he was mistaken but the whisper came again, it sounded like a maiden singing:
“An aimless star against the void,
a mighty comet without a home,
day by day wasting away,
all strength of spirit fades,
wasted...lost.”
“Who’s there?” Zane said out loud. He looked around but it was only him there on the bridge at the Lonely river.
“Would you turn and be who you are meant to be, or will you stay and fade in meaninglessness?” the whisper asked.
“I, I want to escape the pain!” he yelled before he could stop himself or think about his words.
“Escape? Escape is a journey inward, not outward dear. There is nowhere in the material world you can go to escape, and no amount of belongings or coin can form a key to the gate. Would you travel inward for a chance of escape, even if the journey is perilous?” the whisper sang as the breeze whined.
“Yes! Whatever it takes!” he yelled, thoughts of his mother and father and the intense heat flashing in his mind.
“Very well. In the water find the hidden light, then seek the Wolf of the Dark Forest, it will know what to do with you,” she whispered. The breeze faded, the night drew quiet, and the maidens song was lost.
Zane gathered himself and looked down. Near the edge of the water, partly obscured by water plants and silt the moonlight gleamed on an object. He ran along the bridge and around and down to the water. He knelt by the calm river pool and leaned forward to take the object, but for a moment he saw his own reflection in the water. His skin looked pale in the moonlight, and his brown eyes appeared dark, even his stubbly beard and curly brown hair looked black in the reflection. But his eyes were the most concerning, since they looked empty and aimless like those of a mechanist's soulless construct, and he wondered if the maiden's whisper could guide them to ever sparkle again.
He pulled out the object from the water and it turned out to be a large palm sized amulet, disc shaped and within the outer circle a star with only three prongs. On each prong was engraved a swirling symbol. Even though it came out of the water the amulet felt warm and dry in his hands, even somehow familiar. He sat back in the mud, mesmerized by the trinket, then took a strand of leather from his shirt, one that tied it closed in the front and attached it to the amulet and hung it around his neck. It was metal, like polished iron but was somehow not rusted. It felt heavy and light at the same time, strangely.
He pressed the amulet against his chest and he felt like it reached into him in some way, to where his feelings lived. He pressed his other hand into the ground and mud pressed up between his fingers, and for a moment he felt a connection to…something. He looked at the calm water, then up at the moon and the sky, and an unfamiliar sense of purpose started rising up in him.
Then a frown twisted his face, fueled by rushing thoughts. He had to ask Miss Thornhill about this since she had books about trinkets and spells on the shelf in the back of the shop, but it was too late and he would have to go the next day. Maybe she knew something about medallions and symbolism. He had to find this ominous sounding Wolf of the Dark Forest. Was this wolf the 'perilous' part the voice referred to?
To be continued…
(Just writing for fun, don't expect a literary masterpiece or good grammer/spelling lol, but I hope someone enjoys my stories.)
Chapter 1 Whispers
“Oxfern, Sunbloom and Greymoss!” came a loud voice from the front of the shop.
Zane had fallen asleep in the back room, in his chair at the crafting table, slumped back, pestle still in his hand and an unfinished grind of Feywort still in the mortar.
“Zane!” came a now agitated shout from the door leading to the front shop.
Zane jumped at the shout; his chair snapped back and he accidentally kicked the leg of the crafting table as he flinched, sending vials of herbs flying everywhere, some shattering on the stone floor. A woman peered around the doorpost, her eyebrows at an angry angle. She sighed and her head dropped at the sight of the mess. He quickly started cleaning up, glancing up at her now and then with an awkward smile.
“You know, if your parents hadn’t been such a dear friend of the family, I would have left you to the wolves,” she said as she disappeared back into the front of the shop.
“Sorry Miss Thornhill,” he said in muted tone, knowing she didn’t accept apologies, only action.
On all fours he carefully brushed up all the vials and herbs, then quickly prepared the ones he heard her asking for while half asleep, hoping they were the right ones. Fortunately they were and the rest of the day went without incident or quarrel, and soon it was time to head home.
“Fix the sign would you Zee,” Miss Thornhill asked as Zane left down the cobbled path winding between the flowerbeds in front of the shop.
He turned the wooden sign at the front gate to show “Apothecary Closed” and looked back at Miss Thornhill as he walked down the path to town to try and gauge her demeanor, trying to figure out if she was still angry about the mess he made earlier. She took off her apron and loosened her long blond hair that was kept tied up during the day. A breeze played with her hair, and as the sky darkened for the evening her blue eyes stood out, and Zane felt a bit lost for a moment. They grew up together, played together as kids, but now she was his employer. He wondered why she was always alone, not entertaining any company or even visiting the town. Unexpectedly, his foot caught a loose cobble and he stumbled to his knees, but he quickly jumped back up trying to save face. He glanced back at her again and she was laughing, then she waved and went into the shop.
“So stupid,” he said, grabbing his face and shaking his head.
The road turned left through the birch forest, then opened up at the stone bridge that crossed the Lonely river. Zane glanced at the town sign that hung over the bridge that read: “Welcome to Moonspring.” He shook his head at the ‘welcome’ part. He did not care much for the people there; he never felt like he fit in. As the light of lamps and candles started to come on in town, he felt like they were the eyes of beasts opening and menacingly staring at him, so he decided to just sit on the side of the bridge for a while. Maybe Miss Thornhill felt the same about the town and that's why she stayed out there at the shop, he thought.
She was only about two years older than him, and took over ownership of the apothecary for her parents who had left for their property in the new world a few years ago. Zane thought of her kindness in giving him a place to work after what happened to his own family and their business, even though she probably didn’t really need him. No wonder she also didn’t fit in in this twisted town. He sighed ashamed, thinking about how he fell asleep earlier and let her down.
He was still sitting on the side of the bridge when gloominess overcame him. The moon rose over the trees, and some of his tears made ripples in the calm water below as he recalled the fire and the screams. It happened a long time ago but the terror in his mother’s eyes still broke him whenever he failed to hide from her memory.
The breeze intensified, carrying the scent of Miss Thornhill’s garden flowers all the way from her shop, down there to the bridge. It was some comfort, since working at the apothecary felt more like home than his small room above the tavern and its noisy patrons did. Somewhere along the road the breeze must have scooped up a paper notice, and it drifted over to Zane and stuck to his shoulder. He took it and turned it over.
“Attention all peoples of Greenvale Province:
By order of his Majesty Reginald Haven, all men twenty years and older must report to the regional recruitment offices for mobilization into his lordship’s army in service of his endeavors to defeat the Areven invasion. Consult local administration for details.”
“Great, I’m twenty in a month,” Zane said under his breath.
Just then, as if mixed with the breeze there came a whisper, barely noticeable, but he sat up trying to hear it clearly. For a moment he thought he was mistaken but the whisper came again, it sounded like a maiden singing:
“An aimless star against the void,
a mighty comet without a home,
day by day wasting away,
all strength of spirit fades,
wasted...lost.”
“Who’s there?” Zane said out loud. He looked around but it was only him there on the bridge at the Lonely river.
“Would you turn and be who you are meant to be, or will you stay and fade in meaninglessness?” the whisper asked.
“I, I want to escape the pain!” he yelled before he could stop himself or think about his words.
“Escape? Escape is a journey inward, not outward dear. There is nowhere in the material world you can go to escape, and no amount of belongings or coin can form a key to the gate. Would you travel inward for a chance of escape, even if the journey is perilous?” the whisper sang as the breeze whined.
“Yes! Whatever it takes!” he yelled, thoughts of his mother and father and the intense heat flashing in his mind.
“Very well. In the water find the hidden light, then seek the Wolf of the Dark Forest, it will know what to do with you,” she whispered. The breeze faded, the night drew quiet, and the maidens song was lost.
Zane gathered himself and looked down. Near the edge of the water, partly obscured by water plants and silt the moonlight gleamed on an object. He ran along the bridge and around and down to the water. He knelt by the calm river pool and leaned forward to take the object, but for a moment he saw his own reflection in the water. His skin looked pale in the moonlight, and his brown eyes appeared dark, even his stubbly beard and curly brown hair looked black in the reflection. But his eyes were the most concerning, since they looked empty and aimless like those of a mechanist's soulless construct, and he wondered if the maiden's whisper could guide them to ever sparkle again.
He pulled out the object from the water and it turned out to be a large palm sized amulet, disc shaped and within the outer circle a star with only three prongs. On each prong was engraved a swirling symbol. Even though it came out of the water the amulet felt warm and dry in his hands, even somehow familiar. He sat back in the mud, mesmerized by the trinket, then took a strand of leather from his shirt, one that tied it closed in the front and attached it to the amulet and hung it around his neck. It was metal, like polished iron but was somehow not rusted. It felt heavy and light at the same time, strangely.
He pressed the amulet against his chest and he felt like it reached into him in some way, to where his feelings lived. He pressed his other hand into the ground and mud pressed up between his fingers, and for a moment he felt a connection to…something. He looked at the calm water, then up at the moon and the sky, and an unfamiliar sense of purpose started rising up in him.
Then a frown twisted his face, fueled by rushing thoughts. He had to ask Miss Thornhill about this since she had books about trinkets and spells on the shelf in the back of the shop, but it was too late and he would have to go the next day. Maybe she knew something about medallions and symbolism. He had to find this ominous sounding Wolf of the Dark Forest. Was this wolf the 'perilous' part the voice referred to?
To be continued…
