The dark green canopy above seemed to press down as the
Hunter pressed further on into the deep forest. The aroma of dank earth churned
by his companion’s speeding hooves rose to meet him. Stout limbs on thick trees
thousands of years old reached out to slow their progress. But he pressed on,
his sure-footed companion never faltering for a moment despite the rocks and
roots that littered the forest floor.
His quarry had continued its path to the east. It must know
it was being hunted now, if ever any doubt had existed. But did it know who was
pursuing it? Unlikely, the Hunter thought. And that was his advantage.
The forest grew even thicker as the Hunter pressed on, until
even his agile companion had to slow to a walk. The trees seemed to close in
around them. Light from the setting sun barely penetrated the thick layer of
limbs and leaves above them.
Then suddenly, without warning or explanation, the Hunter’s
quarry disappeared from his sight.
The Destroyer of worlds had been miles away, but the Hunter
had been watching him clearly, his farsight giving him a clear image of his
quarry. And then suddenly it was gone, as though someone had thrown a black
sheet over the Hunter’s deep-seeing eyes.
The Hunter peered around nearby trees to no avail. He tried
backtracking, and still his quarry failed to appear on the distant horizon. His
companion stopped entirely as the two contemplated the situation.
“Indeed.” The Hunter exclaimed to the forest. “The
Destroyer’s power is imminent, yet it cannot disappear from our sight. There must
be something else involved here. Perhaps we should just press on; we know where
he was when we lost sight of him.”
The Hunter was listening to his companion’s wisdom in his
mind when something caught his attention. Off to his left the Hunter saw a dull
green glow, dancing among the trees. The Hunter and his companion watched as
the light flickered up and down, hid behind one tree then danced before
another. In some deep part of his mind, the Hunter knew the light was some kind
of living creature, and that its dance of light was calling to him.
“No,” the Hunter replied to a silent question, “I do not
think it is coincidence either. But I sense no danger here.”
His riding companion, Stalia, gently reminded him mentally
that he hadn’t sensed any danger in the small village just a few days earlier
either.
“Perhaps,” he replied flatly, trying to keep any emotion
from his voice even though he knew full well she could read his mind anyway,
“but my instincts tell me we should pursue this avenue. If it turns out to be
an ill turn, we’ll continue on our way.”
Stalia’s silent reply did little to turn the Hunter from his
intended course. At last, she began slowly trotting through the dense trees
toward the dancing wisp of light.
Their trail led them through what seemed to be the darkest
part of the forest. Though the sun should have still been in the sky, not a
single ray of its light penetrated the thick leaves of great oaks and stout
maples that grew just a few feet apart. The wisp of light seemed to mock them
as it danced just a few feet away, leading them deeper and deeper into the
unknown.
Ahead, a sickly green glow suddenly appeared, illuminating
the foliage in a haunting light. The dancing wisp suddenly shot toward the
light, bending around the trees and out of sight. The Hunter and his companion
continued cautiously forward.
Around a huge oak nearly as wide as the Hunter was tall, an
old shack emerged bathed in the ill green light. The glow seemed not to come
from the house itself, but from near and over it, as though the light source
itself was looking into the dwelling. A small yard spread out in front of the
house, bright green grass growing in contrast to the dull, haunting color of
everything else surrounding the old home. Moss hung from the rooftop, tendrils
reaching down at the sides and all four corners in a desperate yet futile
attempt to reach the ground. A babbling brook ran through the yard near where
the forest stopped and the grass began.
The Hunter’s companion stepped carefully over the tiny
river, as if its water was somehow detrimental. Both of them knew that was
rather unnecessary, no poison of this world could harm either of them, at least
none that they knew of.
The Hunter sat in his riding position atop his mount.
Seconds passed on into minutes. The Hunter responded to an unasked question.
“It would be rude to just walk in uninvited.”
Another silence passed, but the Hunter heard his beloved’s
response clearly. As if in answer to his statement, a voice emerged from within
the decrepit old hut.
“Well, are you going to make an old woman wait forever?”
Though cracked and worn, the strange voice held a strong
conviction. The Hunter smiled briefly as he dismounted. After gazing longingly
into his beloved’s eyes, the Hunter approached the decaying door of the old
moss house.
The door swung in easily enough. The inside of the mossy
dwelling appeared much as the outside. Dirt and grime covered everything within
the small house. A one room shack, it seemed, with little in the way of
furnishings. The Hunter had to stoop to avoid touching the ceiling. Not so for
the sole occupant.
An old woman sat in an ancient chair, eyeing him with great
suspicion. Her look demanded to know what he was doing in her house, though he
was sure she was the one who’d proclaimed his tardiness. Her clothes were as
old as her wrinkled face, and as green as the forest that surrounded her home.
But not as green as the color of her skin.
The old woman had the color of
jade, with none of the sheen one might find on a precious jewel. The green in
her eyes matched the lighter color of the rags draping her body. The Hunter
thought for a mere flash of a second he caught the look in those eyes changing,
but it was gone before he could determine what, if anything, it meant.
“And what does one of your kind
think he’s doing trespassing in my part of the forest?”
The Hunter raised a curious
eyebrow at the old woman. Her voice was old, faded, crackling, yet it held a
kind of understated power or authority. He sensed a growing power within her as
well.
“By my kind, do you mean…”
“You know exactly what I mean,
trespasser.” The old woman interrupted. “You who do not belong here and never
did. You who brought ruin upon us all. But it didn’t turn out quite like you
expected, did it my pretty? Our power was quite a bit more formidable than you
imagined, ey?”
The old woman kept the Hunter
locked in his place with her stare. He had answers for her, explanations that
should have soothed over any of the misunderstandings this woman obviously held
about him and his mission. But she was not ready to hear them.
“I am a power in my own right,”
the old woman exclaimed, “do not doubt that for a minute, shishar! Outside these trees I may have little value, but within
these walls I have the right, make no mistake. And if I don’t like your
answers, you’ll not be leaving these trees, I should think.”
Not since his arrival in this world had the
Hunter been challenged thus. And certainly not by anyone who seemed as close to
death as this poor old human. But his instincts, which he’d come to trust over
the many long years, told him she spoke the truth. After weighing his words
carefully, the Hunter answered.
“I would never insult you by
pretending to be anything else than what I am.”
“Ha,” the old woman interrupted
in a spat, “your presence is insulting, to me and everyone else. You do not
belong here. So what is your business, ey? Are you a poor lost soul now, cut
off from your friends?” The old woman seemed delighted at the prospect.
“No, my allies are as close as
they need to be. I do not mean to trespass. I am here to collect someone who
also does not belong here. As soon as I have done that, I shall be on my way.”
The Hunter paused to let the old
woman measure the truth of his words. She studied him for a long moment. At
last, the moss-woman softened her look, slightly.
“Then you’d best be quick, my
boy. You aren’t the only one chasing this quarry of yours. And your competition
is ahead of you, I think.”
This took the Hunter completely
by surprise. What was she talking about? No one else had been dispatched to
retrieve the Destroyer, of this he was sure.
“To whom do you refer? I assure
you no one else pursues my quarry.”
The old woman burst out in a
laugh, a chilling cackle that shook the Hunter deep inside where nothing should
have been able to reach him. The Hunter took a step back, marveling at the
power of this feeble-seeming old woman.
“Ever the downfall of your kind,
Hunter, and all those who call themselves powerful. Because you have ability,
because you have skill, or authority, or knowledge that nothing can be as you
deign otherwise. Foolish my boy, very foolish.”
The old woman’s sudden geniality
vanished as suddenly as it appeared.
“I wish you godspeed on your
quest, my boy. Truly I do. For if you fail I foresee a grave future ahead, one
in which the past rises from the ashes of history to finish the job it started.
So hurry now, and let nothing else delay you. Or it may be the ruin of us all.”
The old moss-woman waved her hand
in a flourish, and suddenly the Hunter was standing just outside the mossy hut.
The ill-green light seemed to fade around him, until even his sharp eyes could
barely see the old house in front of him.
On a whim, the Hunter tried to
open the door again, but found it shut tight. He turned to his companion,
climbing on to her back in a pensive mood she did not miss. He mentally
explained all the old woman had told him. Stalia turned, made her way carefully
over the brook, and together the pair again made their way east in the
direction they had last seen the Destroyer.
“Who could she have meant?” The
Hunter asked aloud. “If anyone else had been sent we’d have known, we would
have felt their presence here. Who would…?”
The Hunter trailed off as Stalia mentally offered
a plausible explanation. The Hunter’s expression suddenly bore a heavy
trepidation.
“Oh no.”
