“Here we are,” Seraph said as Sunburst came to a halt, “Runebound Grove.” Dismounting first, he helped Danish from the saddle. “Not sure why you wanted to come here.”
Danish bowed to the knight. “Thank you for helping me get here. I’ll be fine on my own. You can return to the castle.” Orb in hand, Danish stepped beneath the glowing leaves. Heat washed over him; the air heavy with moisture. The sound of gentle clopping behind him. Turning back, he saw that Seraph was following him into the Grove.
“You don’t have to follow me,” Danish reiterated.
“I know,” smiled Seraph. “But did you expect me not to join you on this?” He outstretched both arms to his sides. “Look at this place. Who knows the last time someone stepped under this … self-illuminating canopy.”
Danish knew the answer to that question. It was not that long ago that his father, King Dante, had entered the forest. Right around the same time he had started to see that strange figure at the wood’s edge. Though, it was because he told his father out the figure that he had seen his father ride out to the Grove.
Now that he stood within the Grove, Danish realized that the faint glows he saw climbing the trunks of the trees were in fact ancient runes from a forgotten age. He should have figured that from the name Runebound Grove, but he had never really given much thought to the name of the location.
Dirt trails webbed through between the trees. Beaten paths as though heavily traveled. Trails should not have been worn into the Grove. Travel had been outlawed since the birth of the kingdom. Even if there were groups who disobeyed the law, there should have not been enough foot traffic to wear out the earth.
Then, before their very eyes, the trails vanished and new paths branched out for them to follow. Trees shifted over to allow room for the dirt roads to push through.
“Did you see that?” questioned Seraph. Sounding more excited than confused. “I think this place is alive.”
Danish would have agreed if he weren’t stunned.
Seraph pushed by the young Vickery and followed the trail a few feet beyond where Danish stood. Stopping as he reached the end of the path. Met by a fork in the road. “Come on,” he waved for Danish to follow. “We don’t want to get separated by the path changing.”
Seraph was right. If the path continued to shift as they made their way through the Grove, then they couldn’t afford to let any space come between them. Tugging on Sunburst’s reins, Danish paced himself. Eyes darting at the space between the trees as he followed close behind Seraph. It felt as though something were watching him. Shadows danced in the distance.
It was strange that, despite the ever-glowing leaves that hung above, there were shadows in which things could prowl. Hiding until ready to attack the unsuspecting duo. Flashes of glowing eyes swam in the darkness. Vanishing in the blink of an eye.
When Danish asked Seraph if he noticed the eyes that followed them. Somehow, the knight was blind to them. Hearing that only made Danish uncomfortable about the things that hid in the shadows.
Having made decent headway through the Grove, Seraph started to quickly shift his gaze from side to side.
“Is something wrong?” Danish whispered. He began to search the shadows. No sign of anything watching them for the time being.
“Yes,” replied Seraph. “The trees,” he went on. His voiced pained. “None are close enough to the road. How am I supposed to relieve myself without losing the path?”
Dumbfounded, Danish let out a deep sigh. Seraph’s issue was not that there was danger, just that he needed to go to the bathroom.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t move so I can find you.” As he stepped off the path, the eyes once more appeared in the distance. Soft yellow glows shifted to white, shifted to red.
“Seraph,” Danish choked. “I don’t think you should—“
Wild beast whipped from the underbrush. Canine and feline in form, but their bodies were made from smoke and ash. Claws and fangs swam through the air toward the unsuspecting victim.
Reacting in time, Seraph drew his blade. Tearing steel through the closest assaulter. Globs of black slime splattered across the ground and stained Seraph’s clothes. One of the beasts had managed to get in close. Sinking fangs into Seraph’s thigh.
With a pained cry, he pushed away the creature he had sliced through, wedging his blade through the center of the back of the one chewing into his muscle. Both shadowy beasts that he’d cut into wisped away as though carried away on the breeze. But there were still many more surrounding him.
Seraph was doing well to fight them back. Slaying most before they had a chance to inflict damage to him. Each time one died, another appeared from the shadows.
Danish stood on the road. Frozen in place. He was unarmed, and even if he had brought a sword with him, there was little he would be able to do in this situation. Untrained as he was, he felt as though he would only get in the way of Seraph if he tried to help.
That was when he realized something. None of the beasts had attempted to attack him. Their focus was only on Seraph. Why aren’t they attacking me? He tried to think of what might have caused them to want to attack Seraph.
The trail! Danish had never left the trail, but the moment that Seraph had, he had seen the eyes shift into that vicious red. “You need to get back on the path,” he called out to the fighting knight. “They don’t want you off the trail.”
Seraph screamed as claws raked along his back. He stumbled back toward Danish. Aimlessly fighting back against the still swarming beasts. Fangs sank into his arm, weakening his grip on his sword. It fell to the grass as Seraph stumbled back onto the dirt trail. Watching the beast that gripped him vanish in a puff of smoke.
All the remaining creatures stalked back into the shadows. Seraph broke out into a fit of laughter. “Now we know why you never hear about people being executed for wandering through the Grove. The Grove itself will kill you for coming here.”
“Are you all right?” Danish dropped to his knee at Seraph’s side. “You’re wounded.”
“I’ll be fine,” Seraph told him. “Though I don’t think I’ll manage to walk.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“What should we do? I can’t just leave you here.”
“Help me into the saddle,” Seraph said. “I’ll be fine to sit in the saddle, and you’ll just have to lead Sunburst.” There was difficulty in getting Seraph to his feet. Danish was only half his height, and he had not built a lot of strength in his upper body.
In order to help the knight into the saddle, Danish had to put down the orb he had been carrying.
When Seraph was secured in place, Danish turned back to find his orb pulsing with a golden light. Something it had never done before. Warmth radiated from it as he took hold of it. Not quite hot enough to make it uncomfortable to hold, but the sensation was foreign to Danish.
“Did it always do that?” Seraph asked.
“No,” replied Danish.
“Well, it does it now. And I’m a bit concerned as to why.”
“Me too.” Looking away from the orb, Danish saw the paths branching through the Grove had not shifting in some time. One of the paths seemed to give off the same glow that his orb did. Though it was faint, and hard to notice. It took the full force of his concentration to even pick up on it the first time.
“We should head this way,” Danish said, looking over his shoulder to see if Seraph had any objections.
“Lead away,” the knight said. Pointing forward. “You have full control over the path we take. I can’t object in this condition.”
Guided by the faint glow that appeared after his orb had started to do the same, Danish weaved the pair through the Grove. Following the twist and turns that led them to a large spring. Steam wafted from the bubbling surface. A steady stream cascaded from an opening from the sheer-faced stone wall blocking them from going any further.
“That looks relaxing,” Seraph said. “Danish, help me into the spring, will you?”
His words were lost to Danish. All his attention had gone to his orb. What had once been a steady pulse became a constant golden glow. Had it been leading them to that spot specifically? Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the path through the Grove had vanished. If they tried to leave the spring, the shadow beasts would be free to ravage them.
“Danish? Hey?” Seraph still tried to get the boy’s attention. “Come on, can you at least acknowledge that you hear me? Danish!”
Catching his name that time, he turned his gaze to Seraph. “Sorry …” He held his orb up for Seraph to see. “I think this is where the trail ends.”
“Great.” Seraph turned back. “And we can’t turn around. Can you help me into the spring now?”
The spring! Danish turned back to the water before him. If the orb had brought them to that spot, perhaps he was meant to put the orb in the water. His eyes trailed up the waterfall. The hole from which the water fell was round in shape. Do I put it in there?
If Seraph were healed, he was sure the knight would be able to scale the rock wall and see if it fit. Danish on the other hand knew he stood no chance in climbing the wall. “Sorry, I’ll help you now.” Forgetting about the orb, Danish let himself be support so that Seraph could free himself of the saddle. Half dragging him over, Seraph had Danish put him down by the edge. Crawling into the water on his own.
“Oh yea,” he stretched the words as he let his body sink down to his neck. Arms perched on the edge to keep from fully submerging himself.
“I’m glad it is to your liking,” a new voice spoke. Soft as cotton; steady as the forest itself.
Danish turned back to have his eyes fall upon a strange man. His skin looked to be made of tree bark. Moss grew from his face like a beard, wrapping around his body to form a cloak. Flowers budded, bloomed, and wilted across his form. Eyes of various beasts blinked in and out of existence in turn. Strange as he was, there was something soothing and familiar about him.
“I have been expecting you,” the man smiled. “I am Juliard, spirit of the Runebound Grove, and all of nature itself. Pleased to finally meet you, Danish Vickery.”
“You know who I am?”
“Indeed.”
“Do you know who I am?” Seraph asked. His voice calm as the waters he soaked in.
“Indeed, I do. Young Seraph Morningstar. I thank you for aiding young Danish here.”
“Not a problem,” Seraph’s tone became prideful. “Just doing my duty as the Crown Guard. Seeing as Danish here is a prince. Well, a step-prince, but a prince all the same.”
“Yes. A prince with no ties to the royal bloodline,” Juliard made note. “Son of mage and warrior; the one in which we have been waiting for.”
“You’ve been waiting for me?” Danish swallowed. An ancient nature spirit had been waiting for him to arrive. “What could you possibly be wanting with me?”
Juliard held out his hand. The orb that Danish carried rose from the earth. Gently floating over to Danish and landing in his grasp. “You bring with you the key.”
“Key to what?” Danish rolled the orb around in his hands. “What could this possibly go to?”
“I would like to second that question,” Seraph injected himself into the conversation. “Seeing as Danish would not be here without me, I feel I deserve to know.” It was not a sentiment that Danish fully agreed with, but he was glad the knight was there to help stir the conversation. “And if there is some type of reward for bringing the key, I think I deserve a share.”
“Oh, there is a reward,” laughed Juliard. “But it is not one that can be shared in the sense you speak. The reward is life.”
“Life?” Seraph pulled himself from the spring. Pacing over to Juliard and brandishing his fist. “Are you saying you would kill us over that ball he carries?”
“Seraph,” Danish called out.
“Not now,” the knight disregarded Danish’s words. “And are you the one who sent those shadowy things at us? Because they were not pleasant. Their claws, and their fangs hurt. A lot. Like, a lot a lot.”
“Seraph,” Danish called out louder this time.
“And another thing—“
“Seraph!” Danish snapped. More anger in his voice than he had ever used before.
“What?” Seraph snapped back.
“You’re walking.”
Seraph looked down. His wounds had been healed. Without leaving behind any proof that he’d ever been hurt. “I’m healed,” he said astonished. “But those injuries, it would have taken weeks to heal.”
“The spring you bathed in is connected to the heart of the world,” Juliard said. He glided over to the waters, dripping in his hand. “All things pull energy from the earth itself. Nature is forever guiding us. Breathing new life and energy. This spring, it accelerates this process.”
Juliard turned to Seraph. “Your wounds were not so grievous that you would never have recovered, which you seemed to understand. But understand this as well. These waters would not heal you if they had been incurable. These waters would not return life to limbs that were forever severed. A new limb would not sprout like the branches of a tree.”
“Can this water work elsewhere?” the knight questioned. “And can it cure sickness?”
“Disease would melt away into these springs,” Juliard answered. “But the power of these waters does not exist outside the Grove. I am afraid to tell you that you cannot use their power to save that one.”
“Who is he talking about?” Danish asked.
“No one you need to worry about,” Seraph spat bitterly. He walked to the edge of the allowed area. A small bit of pathway branched off to allow him some privacy from the others.
Danish watched his new friend sulk. A feeling like rising bile filled his chest. Swallowing it down, he turned back to Juliard. “You said my orb is a key to life. What does that mean?”
Juliard swished his hand around in the spring. “These waters can breathe life into many things. It may not be able to fix a body that no longer works as intended. But it has one miracle it can perform. It can restore life to that which has lost its shimmer. Restore flame to that which was once lustrous. Kindle a new flame.”
Danish stepped to the edge. Fingers tapped against the orb he’d had since childhood.
It sank beneath the waters. Lost to him. That golden light that once pulsed over the orb now shimmered across the spring’s surface. At first as rings that rippled from the center of the spring and out toward the edge. As the rings grew more frequent, the edge held on to the golden light. Until every inch of the spring shimmer gold.
Bursting free from the spring, a phoenix danced through the air. Burning with all the colors of the Grove. Perching upon Danish’s shoulder as the flames dyed out. Taking on the form of a red sparrow.
“A key to life,” muttered Danish. Legends spoke of phoenix as immortal birds able to give life. “But why did you need me to bring it here?”
Juliard stepped onto the spring. Floating on the waters like a leaf that fell from the branch. “Even though that egg was fossilized long before you were born, you were the only one who it could bind with. Only you could restore its life.”
Danish thought back to how the orb had shattered the bones in the foot of someone else who was unlucky when he had dropped it. “No one else could have carried it here.”
“Perhaps one of your brothers could have,” Juliard spoke.
“If only they lived.” Danish felt the phoenix nuzzle against him. Steam hissed off it as his tears evaporated. He had not even felt them well in his eyes.
“Danish,” Juliard turned to him with a grin. “Let me tell you a secret.”