The Serth Hatama is not what you would have expected, looking at it from the outside. True, most of the trees have withered and turned to stone, but somehow this does not prevent the trees above you from blocking out the sun. Now and then a glint of gold in the distance hints at the presence of Amber, but when you get closer you see you are mistaken. The faint cries of animals--you hope they are animals--echo faintly in the distance, the only sound except for the crunch of your feet over dead branches and dead leaves, and the murmuring of the trees. This only seems to grow louder as you get deeper into the forest, although you do not feel any wind, and anyway you are not sure the stone trees would move in any such wind. But there is something alive here, or at least something which used to be alive. Now and then through the trees, you can make out a long finger of mist, stretching menacingly towards your path. A cry sounds overhead, the unmistakable croak of a vulture. A cold hand grips your heart, and you wonder just what this wood was before the malice of Orkon crept over the land.
After what seemed to be many hours of tracking, the party stumbled onto the shore of a large bowl-shaped glacial lake, with water so clear they could have seen the bottom of the lake were it not so deep. As it was, the deep blue was purer than anything any of them, even Orusen in all of his wanderings, had ever seen. The surface of the lake was perfectly still, save for a flock of waterfowl gliding across its surface in the distance. There was a small cottage some three-hundred yards off to the party's right, a faint wisp of smoke rising from its chimney. The party began walking towards the cottage, led by Reiana, who knocked at the door. There was no answer, but looking in through the window she could see a small, clean cottage, with furnishings for two, and a man's clothes laid out neatly on a bed.
As the party stood there, wondering what to do, one of the birds broke away from the flock and began gliding towards the shore. As it neared, the party saw it was a swan. When it came near to the bank it began swimming back and forth in an s-shaped pattern, as though curious about the newcomers. Hasanyah walked towards it with an outstretched hand, trying to befriend it. Evidently she was successful, because...
Hasanyah could never tell when the change happened. One moment she was looking at a beautiful, graceful swan who was returning her gaze with the wild intelligence of a person; the next moment, she was looking at a beautiful woman clothed in a corslet of white feathers, who returned her gaze with the wild grace and intensity of a swan. The Swan-Woman stepped forward and introduced herself as Alyeitalya, ushering the party in and giving them to drink from a pitcher of water--presumably taken from the lake. The water was deep and sweet and refreshing, and those who tasted it--only Tengelbur chose not to accept the Swan-Woman's hospitality--felt all care and weariness lift from their shoulders. So much, in fact, that it took an act of the will to remember that they were still on a quest, and had an oath to fulfill.
Hasanyah and Reiana were full of questions about the Swan-Woman. Was she a woman who had been made into a swan, or a swan who had been made into a woman? Had she always been able to transform in this manner? To whom did the suit of men's clothing belong?
Some questions the Swan-Woman answered; others she did not understand. When asked whether there were others like her, a sad look came into her eyes--the first emotion they had seen in her, other than curiosity, since they had entered the cottage. Then Alyeitalya began to sing:
Seven silver maidens swam
under a gleaming moon
Upon a mere by golden sands
with lustrous pearls strewn.
They knew no bond, nor love of man,
they wandered far and free
Until one day a traveler came
to the cottage by the lee.
His heavy head was flecked with gray
and toil beyond his years;
And heavy sorrows there he bore
from the world of doubt and tears.
And seven maidens saw he there
like seven silver swans.
And the seventh maiden loved the man
and fell into his bond.
"Little sister, know you not
this mortal soon must die?
And sooner must we leave this place
and from the Dark Wood fly."
"Sisters, I must tarry here,
and love him for a while.
For I would trade my wandering
for the moment of his smile."
But the mortal did not tarry long,
but went he way of men.
And the youngest sister tarried there
and wept upon the sand.
And there she tarries evermore,
until the far-off day
When one will come from the sons of men
to break her ancient chains.
As the song finished, Alyeitalya pointed out along the lake, to where a dark island hung low like a cloud above the water. It was the first time the party had noticed it since they had come to the lake, and whether it had been there before they could not say. "My love is out there upon the Island of the Dead. But I cannot bury him after the fashion of men, and for that cause he is still unquiet, and I cannot escape the bond I took to myself long ago."
Captivated by the great beauty and sadness of Alyeitalya, Orusen stepped forward and said, "Then, lady, what must we do to free you? For I would do for you whatever is in my power."
"There is no compulsion," the Swan-Woman said. "There is nothing you must do. You may stay here with me, and drink the Waters of Forgetfulness, or you may go and return into the world of men. But if you would free me from my bonds, you must go to the Island of the Dead, and lay my love to rest."
Then a great division arose in the company, for Orusen (who drank a second time, and deeply from the water which the Swan-Woman offered) desired above all things to set the cares of the world--and his troubled past, and his curse and exile--behind him, and to endeavor to free this lovely creature. But the others were greatly troubled by reason of the bond which was already laid on them to find their companions and rescue the caravan, and the peril that Hural-Yalir lay in if the supplies could not be delivered. Tengelbur furthermore feared the meaning of "the Waters of Forgetfulness," and Reiana, watching the large, fat, gray geese which glided across the surface of the lake in the distance, began to suspect that they might have once been other travelers who had come to the cottage by the lake and tarried too long. In the end, the company resolved to leave--all save Orusen, who stayed with Alyeitalya. For a long moment the four companions stood at the edge of the wood, and the hearts of those who drank Alyeitalya's water were moved with great longing and regret, but at last they turned and headed back into the Serth Hatama. When they looked back over their shoulders, there was no sign of the lake, or the cottage, or the Swan-Woman, or Orusen.
With heavy hearts they continued their search, and Tanurendal managed to find the trail of their quarry once again. After another indeterminate period of time--for, despite the fact that the dead branches above them were for the most part stripped of leaves, the only light under the canopy of the Serth Hatama was gray twilight, and the company could no longer see the sun--they came at last upon what they were seeking.
The narrow track you have been following suddenly widens into a grizzly clearing overshadowed by eight black yew trees, each bending inward, half-living, half-fossilized, around the now-ossified trunk of a once-mighty oak. It becomes clear you have stumbled across the scene of some grizzly ritual, for the branches around you are decorated with the butchered corpses of birds, beasts, fish, and men, all hung from cruel leather thongs.
Among those corpses which hung from the trees of the Bent Grove, the party recognized the twins, Klorpeim and Karalin. A strange red amber gleamed from among the trunks of the nine trees of the Grove, and on the great oak in the center a great vulture had been painted with blood now dried to black. And there in the midst of the Grove, waiting with blades drawn, were six of the bronze-masked cultists, accompanied by a shadowy figure in tattered robes whom Tanurendal seemed to recognize.
"MAWISH!" he cried, setting an arrow to his bowstring. The rest of the party drew blades and charged into the clearing without hesitation. Should the party ever return to the lands of men, the Battle of the Bent Grove will be remembered in song, for many great deeds were done there. Six times the comrades fell, and six times they were rallied by the harsh words of Tanurendal or the piercing battle-cry of Reiana. At last Tanurendal grappled with Mawish the Gaunt Man, whose flesh was a mass of writhing worms, in whose voice was terror, in whose eyes glinted the malice of Orkon. And Tanurendal, who had himself twice fallen in the battle, rose again and struck Mawish down, and the worms which were his flesh scattered into the Withered Wood.
Then one of the cultists, who was known by now to be Verekan (his companion, Thorinta, was also revealed to be a cultist, but he had been slain earlier in the battle), cried out, "They must not be allowed to return to Cheykor!" and fell upon Hasanyah. The two of them rolled along the ground, blades flashing. Tengelbur stepped forward and swept Thorinta's head from his shoulders, but it was already too late--and Hasanyah lay dying of her wounds. Then the three cultists who still remained alive fled the Glade, and the battle was ended. Of the seven companions who had set out from Karet Cheykor, only three remained now to stand in bitter victory, masters of the grisly glade--for Varanjala and Teithbor had been lost along the way, and Orusen had forsaken his oath and the cares of the world of men, and Hasanyah had been slain beneath Verekan's knife.
No comments:
Post a Comment