Journey to Hope-Chapter 7 part 1

Chapter 7 The Heart of Darkness

     When the edge of the Blackwood came into view, Kal whispered for the green dragon to land. He had considered flying over the Blackwood until they reached Clovenfast, where they would be closer to the Well, but when he thought of Esben’s den, and how Esben had probably roamed frequently in the halls of Clovenfast when he was sane enough, he decided against it. Artham was already clearly uncomfortable going into the wood, and being where Esben had been might drive him over the edge. Lost in his thoughts, he came back to reality with a start when the dragon landed. He slipped easily over its side and watched his mother dismount. He looked around quickly around the group. Leeli was talking quietly to Hulwen, arranging how the dragons would pick them up. They had decided on a signal fire that any roaming dragons could see by sky. Oskar was looking around him intently, still scribbling in the small leather tome of his. Nia was looking into the wood with a face stamped with purpose, her hand on Janner who was still on the dragon. Artham was-where was Artham? Kal looked up. Artham was still in the air, his eyes wide and his talons shaking slightly. Kal tapped his mother on the shoulder and pointed quietly to Artham.

     “Artham?” Nia called up to him. He started, glancing down at the group below, and began to wheel down to earth. Silently, Artham walked to Janner’s body and unstrapped him from the dragon, cradling him in his arms. He placed a hand on the dragon’s head and whispered a quiet thank you. Kalmar watched as Artham glanced fearfully up into the Blackwood, and pulled Janner closer to his chest. Turning to face the dark wood, Kal did not turn back when he heard the dragons flying into the sky. He led his family into the Blackwood. He did glance back, however, to see if Artham was following. He was holding Janner, and Sara had a gentle hand in the crook of his elbow, walking by his side. Kal smiled and chuckled when he saw Sara. 

     Another thing she and Janner have in common. They both are crazy about Uncle Artham. His smile slowly disappeared as they walked deeper into the wood. A smell of mildew and dankness pervaded the air, and dry leaves crunched under the boots of the company. The wood was still. Not like Glipwood forest had been still. Glipwood had been overflowing with life, even in its most silent moments. This was a deathly silence. No insects hummed, and the breeze in the trees sounded like the rattling of dry bones. As the time passed, the forest got darker and darker. The trees grew higher and thicker, their dead branches blocking out the warm sun. Nia was the first to venture her voice into the eerie silence. Her voice sounded harsh and strange as it cut through the stillness. 

     “What is your plan, Kalmar. How do we get to the Well?” Kalmar grew slightly  uncomfortable as he realized he didn’t remember exactly where the Well was. He did, however, remember that it was very close to the foot of the Killridges. 

     “We travel north today,” he said, pointing to the Killridges, or rather, the trees three feet in front of him that were in the direction of the Killridges. 

     “Tomorrow, we start searching.” Without a further word, the family started walking. Hours passed, and most of the time was spent in silence. Every once in a while, someone would strike up a conversation, Leeli or Sara would laugh, Oskar would sneeze, or Artham would whimper or mumble. Whenever Artham started to do this Sara and Kalmar would make sure that someone was standing by him, talking, holding his hand, touching his arm, or even just offering the comfort of their presence. Kalmar had to light lanterns for the family as soon as the sun started to set. The forest was dark already, but the sunset plunged it into blackness. Occasionally a sword of golden sunset pierced through the darkness, but Kal lit the lanterns all the same.

    “Oh wait, what about the cows and stuff? Won’t the light attract them?” Kalmar looked around anxiously.

     “Not to worry, lad,” Oskar responded cheerily. “After reading Bigglecoop’s ‘Dark places in Dang,’ I anticipated the lack of light in this forest, and the abundance of man-eating vermin.” When Oskar saw the confused faces of the company, he clarified.

     “That is to say, In the words of Fenniraj, Documenter of pudding and lanterns of many kinds, ‘not to worry, it’s snotwax!’” A collective murmur of sighs and “Oh…”s ran through the company. Artham seemed not even to hear the conversation. Kal heard him begin to mumble and his eyes began to dart in all directions, into the darkness surrounding him. Kal stepped closer and placed a hand on Artham’s arm, holding his lantern aloft, pushing back the blackness. As the family looked for a place to make camp, Artham’s curved talons played at the hilt of his sword. His eyes were bright and wild and fearful in the lantern light. The family set up several tents beneath a tree with large, thick boughs the lowest of which brushed the ground.

    “In case of coothy tows, cowy tooths, toothy cows.” Artham explained. The fact that they all thought, but none of them spoke, was that Fangs, unlike cows and hounds, could climb trees. Leeli, Nia, and Sara shared one tent, while Oskar, Artham, and Kal slept in the other. Artham laid Janner’s wrapped body next to the packs, just inside the tent. They built a small fire, (leaving the lanterns lit as well to deter the wild beasts) and cooked their simple meal. It took Sara and Kalmar’s best convincing to pull Artham away from Janner to eat, though Kal wasn’t the best convincer, considering the main thing on his mind was stuffing himself with as much food as possible, as soon as possible. He was also struggling to bury what he felt. He almost felt like it was wrong to grieve, when the others around him needed him. He reminded himself to constantly measure up, to be the king he thought they needed.  As Artham and Sara walked the few short paces to the fire, Artham’s groping talons found Sara’s gentle, strong hand. Sara smiled at the feel of Artham’s hand placed trustingly in hers and she squeezed it gently, glancing up to smile at the man who had rescued her from the Fork! Factory!. The family ate mostly in silence. Kalmar was growing worried. The more he thought about it, the harder it was to remember how he had found the Well. It had been dark, he had been blinded by tears, and he had had his wolf senses on his side. Now, his intensified sight, hearing, and smell were gone, he wondered how he would lead the family to the well. He shook his head and reconciled himself that he knew the general location, and Artham had also found the well once before. Kal sighed at the emotional and physical knot this journey was becoming. He looked toward the flap of the second tent, where he knew Janner was laid.

     I’m so, so sorry Janner. I swear I will find that Well and bring you back, no matter the cost.

.     .     .

     Early the next morning, Kal awoke to the smell of frying bacon and bread. Artham had already left the tent and had left Janner next to the packs. Oskar was snoring loudly, but Kal barely noticed it. Considering how much he himself snored, he was mostly used to it by now. Hunched over, he put on his sword belt,  walked to the tent flap and stepped outside to the cool air, not bothering to go quietly because Oskar slept like a rock. Leeli, Nia and Sara were all freshly dressed and helping to make breakfast. Kalmar looked down at his wrinkled tunic and cloak, realizing he had been in the same outfit since Janner had died. All he had done before he went to bed was unbuckle his sword. Janner’s sword, he corrected himself mentally. The cool air was rich with the smell of crackling bacon, but it was still dark. The sun had only started to rise, and the branches of the rotting black trees blocked most of the light. Kal looked around for Artham and saw him pacing back and forth at the edge of the tiny clearing where they had made camp. He was whimpering again, casting fearful glances up at the dark woods. Kalmar was about to walk toward him, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Sara was about to do the same, but something made him turn. Maybe it was a slight sound, or a nearly invisible movement he happened to catch in the corner of his eye. Something was crashing through the forest, headed straight for the camp, and going very fast. Kal was frozen for a split second, but he burst into action, drawing Janner’s sword as a wild Fang burst out of the wood, straight for the group around the fire.

     “WATCH OUT!” He screamed as he sprinted toward the Fang, sword drawn. But Artham reached the Fang first, flying over Kal’s head, shrieking like a bird of prey. The Fang looked up just in time to see the flashing talons that ended its life. Artham stood panting, talons dripping with green blood. Kal stood in shock for a moment, but then rushed quickly forward to examine the dead Fang before it turned to dust. Its skin was already dry and crackled. Kal looked at it with revulsion. It reminded him of Slarb when he had tried to kill them after his time in the wild, and Nuzzard dying in the cage. A leaf fell on the Fang and it turned to dust. All that was left was dirty rags and a rusty, dented breastplate. The Fang hadn’t even had a sword. 

    “Thank you, Artham,” Nia broke the fearful silence. She was using her queen voice, the one she used when she was most worried or sad. “Now that that’s over, come over here and eat, then we’ll break camp and continue the search. Artham, please wipe the blood off your hands before you come to eat. Kalmar, what is our plan of action? How will we go about finding the First Well?” Kalmar knew they were going to ask him that question, and for once, he was prepared. 

     “We head that way,” Kal said, gesturing north, “I think our best plan would be to keep a sharp eye out as we travel. If we see anything that Artham or me think looks familiar, or anything that Oskar thinks might lead to the Well from reading the First Book, a few of us head that way for a while, carefully though, so we don’t get lost. Oskar, you have the compass?” Oskar had woken up and crawled out of the tent when Artham had screeched and killed the Fang. He had stood in amazement, staring at the pile of dust and armor, and only now, when Kal spoke to him did he seem to be fully awake.

     “Yes, young Kalmar. It’s in my pack.” He then strode back to the tent, pulled out his pack and began rummaging through it. 

     “But first, breakfast!” Kal shouted, and he dashed for where Nia was forking bacon and bread onto seven plates.   

.     .     .

    Two days passed, but they seemed like years to the company. Every day they would march, occasionally going off into the wood on a wild goose chase. Hour after hour, march, march, search. The sound of dried leaves crunching became so normal that no one noticed it after a while. Kalmar was growing more and more tense the closer they got to the now towering peaks in front of them. He knew they should be finding the Well soon, but had no idea how they were going to find it. He felt the pressure of everyone’s hopes heavy on him as he strained his eyes to see through the darkness, desperately searching for the Well. Even Leeli, usually the bright spot of the company, began to feel subdued at the emotional weight hanging over the group. Nia was the one that held them together. She pushed Kalmar forward as their leader, only when he seemed completely confused did she take it upon herself to urge the group onward. She was taking this as an opportunity to train him in the leadership role he would have to resume upon their return to Anniera. The journey was hardest for Artham. Every step was like a reminder of what he had and hadn’t done. The more time passed, the less he allowed Janner to be taken from his arms. Janner was like his anchor. The battle with the voices was becoming almost constant, and the bright, good voice was shrinking as steadily as the light in the Blackwood. 

You left him! Coward! You should have saved him when you had the chance and now he’s dead! You don’t deserve the family around you. You don’t deserve to hope. 

     “No…No…” Sara looked up when Artham spoke, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Artham barely noticed her and continued mumbling.

      “Must hope…” You could give in. Stop fighting. You failed! Do you really think those around you love you after what you’ve done? You left him! Failure! Coward! You don’t deserve to be called throne warden. Give in and lose yourself. Artham was cringing, clutching Janner to his chest. He clung desperately to the fact that there was still hope. He could redeem himself and save Janner.

     “Jor Fanner…Peet moesn’t datter, doesn’t matter… Janwell wateran…Jet ganner to water…” Sara began to try to distract Artham from his inner battle and gestured to Kal to come do the same. They started talking to Artham, trying  to keep him from getting the distant look in his eyes, when Kal stopped walking. They had been going downward for a while now, and the trees were getting significantly thicker. The air was getting cooler and damper, and Kalmar felt a strong sense of familiarity. 

     “Mama! I think I remember this place! We might be close!” Nia nodded, and the company shifted shape as they followed Kalmar deeper into the darkness. Kalmar felt the heaviness in his heart lighten slightly as he hacked his way through tangles of brush and branches. He even smiled, for the first time that day. Every step that he took, he became more and more sure that they were approaching something he remembered. If not the Well, then surely some landmark that would lead them to it. Using Janner’s sword, he cut a swath of vines and stumbled onto the edge of a deep valley, the sight of which took his breath away. He gasped as he fully realized what he was seeing, and what seeing it would do to someone in their company. He turned around and shouted,

     “Mama, quick! Turn around! We have to get Uncle Artham out of here! NOW!” But it was too late. Artham had already seen. 

Notes:

• Cliffhanger! This was a really, really long chapter. Part two tomorrow!

• Artham! 😭

Links to previous chapters: