The Stumps stopped in front of the most majestic and vast forest that ever grew on the land of the continent of Mormanon. The trees were more than a hundred feet tall, hiding the low sky in their rustling crowns. Among the black and brown foliage, sparsely mixed with the dull green, one could occasionally spot a bird preening itself.
The wind, whistling among the mighty trunks, caressed the withering grass, whispering its secrets to those willing to stop and listen. It was warning the travelers about the dangers of this place, pleading them to leave immediately if they valued their lives and souls.
Halting, the Stumps began to prepare themselves. Blackbeard put on his full-body armor and snapped close the strap of his helmet, shaped like a falcon’s beak. In his right hand, he held a heavy ax, the blade of which was adorned with runes and ornate patterns. The steel looked so heavy that it seemed impossible for anyone to hold.
Tul put on his leather armor, strapped his leaf-shaped throwing knives to his bracers, and put pistols in his boots and belt. He then turned to the side of the cart to take his musket, which looked more like a portable cannon than a rifle. The hunter and the tracker had two quivers on their backs, one with “normal” arrows and one with adamantium ones.
Lari sported a light armor, consisting of a breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves with knee protectors. A swordsman, after all, wasn’t a knight so he didn’t need to encase himself in steel to feel safe. He sacrificed safety for speed and agility for he planned to kill his enemy before they could make him regret the lack of armor.
Mary shared Lari’s opinion and sense of fashion, with one slight change ― she preferred leather boots to steel ones. Her way of fighting depended on acrobatics and steel would’ve only slowed her down.
Even little Alice came combat-ready. She donned a long, greenish robe and hung an amulet in the shape of a crystal eye around her neck. Two purple glows could be seen through the locks of her hair.
To complete the look, each of them threw a cloak with the Stump’s insignia over their shoulders. Ash was grateful that he hadn’t had the time to make one, otherwise, he’d have to explain just why he didn’t like their sense of fashion.
From here on, they’d have to go on foot. The horses were left at the nearest outpost, leaving only Seltz, the mule, to accompany the Stumps and drag the cart with their stuff. To no one’s surprise, Guido didn’t want to be left in the stalls, so he ran off in protest. Ash let him be, knowing that his friend would come to his rescue if he called for him.
Once she was done dressing, Mary turned to Ash and frowned. He was still wearing the same rags as before. All he had done was tie his scarf a bit neater and tuck the right edge of his shirt into his trousers that he had tied with a piece of rope he had found on the road.
Mary just shook her head. She knew well that it was useless arguing with Ash, so she had to work with what she had.
“Esh,” she called. The mage looked up from his very important task of putting doughnuts into his pockets and walked over to her. “Listen carefully because I’m about to tell you of the dangers that await us in these woods. Are you listening?”
Ash nodded. But the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed.
“The Forest of Shadows,” she said, “is considered one of the most dangerous places on the mainland. Many of the vilest creatures known to the archivists dwell here, but even they’re not as dangerous as illusions are. Don’t trust your eyes in the woods. A root can turn out to be a fang of some beast, from the bite of which your skin will start to rot. A stump can turn out to be a poisonous shefleng, whose saliva leaves you paralyzed for a couple of hours. And that’s just to name a few, don’t make me start on the other, even worse monstrosities that live here.”
“I’ll keep my eyes wide open!” Ash said.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Mary sighed, ignoring him, “and get through without a fight. Otherwise, we’ll be forced to fight to the death every step we make.”
Ash nodded and pretended to take a couple of notes by scribbling with his finger on his palm. A week ago, Mary would’ve lost her temper, but she had long stopped caring. Every adventurer had their quirks, Ash’s was feigned childishness. She had no doubt that he was putting on an act, but she didn’t care why he was doing it. She was an adventurer, not a judge.
“Alice, keep an eye on him,” she said, nodding toward Ash, who was “reading” his notes and seemed to be working on fixing spelling errors in them.
Alice snorted and covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh. Ash smiled broadly at her and offered to read the notes out loud. She couldn’t help but laugh. Lari shot them a glare. He didn’t like the fact that she was getting so close to someone as suspicious and unpredictable as Ash.
“We look like jesters, not a troop,” she thought, consulting Tul’s map. “All right, people, let’s move out.”
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Following their leader, the Stumps entered the shadow of the cursed forest. According to an ancient legend, a long, long time ago, the most beautiful girl the world had ever seen was born here. There wasn’t a single poem in which her appearance would be described the same as in the ballads already composed.
However, all the bards and minstrels agreed that her smile alone could make the rivers flow backward, cherry trees bloom in winter, and the sun rise in the west.
As all love songs would have it, this beautiful girl fell in love with a simple potter. The boy, they said, wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed nor the handsomest lad in the land, but the way he played the flute could make the sky itself cry or smile.
It was love at first sight and a life full of happiness. They were even expecting a child. But, no love tale would be a love tale without some tragedy.
On one not very beautiful day, the God of war and patron of blacksmiths, Raigo, was in a hurry from a battle to the heavenly halls. He rode on his war ram, whose hooves were of pure flame and whose horns sparkled with lightning.
He leaped across the seas and oceans, raced across the rivers and lakes, until he met a lady whose beauty was sung about in a thousand and two ballads. Raigo fell in love with her at first sight and offered her to go with him to the halls, where the Supreme Lord, the Jasper Emperor, would make her his daughter and grant her immortality.
The girl laughed. The sound of her voice made the flowers around her bloom and the hardened warrior blush like a scorned child. She told him that she loved the potter and that she didn’t need anyone else. Her reply made Raigo furious and he killed the young woman in a fit of blind rage. Afraid of what he had done, the God ran away, and the potter, finding his beloved dead, could do nothing but grieve.
For ten days and ten nights, he played the flute, and for ten days and nights, the heavens wept black tears, drowning the forest below. From the rotten, tear-soaked soil rose what is now called The Forest of Shadows. No one knew what happened to the potter. Every bard came up with a different fate. Some said that he went to Heaven to take revenge, others that he had gone to the Abyss to find and bring back the soul of his beloved.
“That’s a nice, but sad story,” Alice said to Ash.
“Keep it down you, two,” Tul said, ducking under another branch. He was in the lead as he knew how to navigate the forest and find the hidden paths. He wasn’t afraid of the purple grass or the giant trees that loomed over them like weeping giants.
The trunks creaked and the crowns swayed, their rustling instilling fear in the soul of passersby. Every couple of steps, Alice lifted her head to look up. Because of the dense foliage, it seemed as if the sky itself was shrouded in darkness, through which only the faint light of Myristal shone occasionally.
The little girl wrapped her cloak around her and adjusted the crystal amulet. Ash could feel her fear, but he couldn’t protect her. He knew more about the forest than any of the Stumps. During his travels, he had heard many a legend of cursed places. Most of them were a hunter’s tale, but there were some that were true. Even the famous guilds avoided this cursed forest for a reason.
The group moved slowly, carefully choosing their path. Birds that looked more like bats saw only a string of light from their perches, wandering somewhere toward the depths of the abyss. The flickering torches brought the shadows to life, confusing the eyes and senses of even the most skillful of adventurers. Roots became dangerous snakes, branches – hands of mighty beasts, any hole was a gaping maw, and tree a giant, famous for their love of human flesh.
“Don’t worry, Alice.” Hearing someone whisper in her ear made the young girl jump in surprise and clutch her wand until her fingers hurt. “Don’t worry. They’ll protect you.”
Turning around, she stared in surprise at Ash, wondering why he wasn’t as pale as the rest of them, why he kept smiling even though he knew that his rags wouldn’t protect him even from the thorn bushes.
Contrary to all logic and common sense, Ash walked calmly behind all of them with a hop in his step and a smile on his face. He didn’t seem to care that he was the last in line, which was the most dangerous position to be in at the moment.
“Don’t worry,” he repeated.
“Stupid,” Alice mumbled and turned away. “Of course he isn’t afraid, he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. He’s just stupid.”
She walked on, feeling her fear begin to recede for some unknown reason. Breathing became easier and she no longer felt like some dangerous beast lurked in every bush.
Ash, noticing how her shoulders relaxed, nodded contentedly. He didn’t give a damn about Kessa’s words or the Master’s advice, or even if the God of all Gods came down from the Heavens and ordered him to do something. He’d just flip him off and tell him to shove it.
All he knew was that he had to help save a little girl who was suffering from a terrible fever. For her sake, he was willing to do more than oppose the Order, whose power was comparable to the combined strength of the armies of the five kingdoms.
He walked calmly along the path, his footsteps accompanied by the blows of his staff hitting the ground. Every creature that lurked among the playful, mischievous shadows remained in its place, trembling with overwhelming terror, bound by fear of Hu-Ching’s disciple, called the Blue Flame. They were more afraid that the dragon’s disciple had not only escaped his domain, but had also taken his master’s head with him.
A few hours later, the forest was colored a shimmering green. Come night, the ancient spirits woke up and began to wonder the forest, looking like what in the songs was often described as lost fireflies. Green spheres danced around the Stumps, beckoning them to follow them into the darkness of the forest.
Unable to resist, Alice reached for one, but Mary caught her hand.
“Don’t touch them,” she whispered sternly. “It’s the morguls playing. Fireflies are just a legend. You touch these and you’re lost to us.”
The girl nodded, hiding her cold hand in the pocket of her robe. Morguls were terrible creatures, similar to angler fish that lived in the deepest parts of the sea. But unlike their toothy water cousins, morguls had four legs, seventeen eyes that never blinked or closed, and a great thirst for blood. Had she overcome her fear for just a moment and looked back, she’d see Ash listening attentively to the lights resting on his shoulder. The green sphere, which had acquired several appendages, looked like a pot-bellied man telling a story to an old friend. The forest fairies couldn’t abandon their “lost brother” (as they called the forest). They couldn’t leave that which had long since died, trapped by the blackest kind of magic.
“He’s here,” the fairy whispered, tugging on the boy’s scarf. “The great horror is at hand! Helmer is on your trail!”
The light blinked and faded away, mingling with the others. Ash removed the staff from his ear as he felt his heart skip a beat.