Annon shook his head. “It is not that, Reeder. I think it would be useful if I did join you. I was only mulling what you told me.”
Reeder reached for a blanket and wrapped himself in the warm folds. “Think as long as you like. Only spare the oil lamp and blow out the flame ere you sleep.”
Annon was beginning to think that truth was like the knowledge of Mirrowen. There was evidence of it all around. Only most people did not bother to notice it. They were so set in their minds as to what existed and what didn’t that they left no room to explore the possibility that they shared the world with the spirits of Mirrowen. That both worlds existed simultaneously. That it was even possible to connect them.
“I will go with you,” Annon promised, giving his friend a smile.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Nizeera’s tail lashing. He felt her thoughts graze against his mind smugly.
Yes. Yes, you will.
He looked at her in confusion, seeing the gleaming reflection of the lamplight in her eyes.
Why do you stay with us? he asked her.
Because of my oath to you, she replied.
And why did you swear an oath to me?
There was a long pause. A shiver began from the base of his spine, welling up until he shuddered.
I did not swear the oath to you, mortal. I swore it to your mother. A Druidecht with the fireblood. Like you. Her tail began lashing back and forth. It reminded him of a serpent.
“Some say the greatest evil is physical pain. The Bhikhu reject this notion, of course. I reject it as well. Wounds of the heart run more deeply and cannot be treated with salves and herbs.”
– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The woods were dark and lonely in the morning light. A thin haze crept amidst the trees, blanketing the morning with a veil of fog. Annon and Reeder walked side by side, enjoying the brisk air and the chance to be together again. Annon’s emotions were tangled and conflicted. He thought about his uncle. He thought about Erasmus. More importantly, he wondered if he had lost his senses completely. Why was he doing this? Why was he even involved? Why had he bothered to listen to Reeder in the first place?
Amidst his tangled emotions was a sense of dread. He was worried about Hettie. What was she doing? Where was she? Was she safe? There were too many questions to answer. More than anything else, he wanted answers. He did not want explanations or excuses. He wanted to know the truth. He wanted certainty before he chose.
The spirits of Silvandom heard his troubled thoughts. There were many in the forest. They were aware of him, listening to his troubled feelings, his conflicting thoughts. He felt their presence all around him like gossamer butterflies, attracted to his intensely personal feeling of doom.
“You’re deep in thought,” said Reeder. “I was a little surprised you chose to come with me this morning.”
“I hope to find answers,” said Annon. “Is that so strange?”
Reeder chuckled. He pointed into the mist. “There are always answers. Some we do not like. Some we are not ready for. But looking for them is good all the same.”
It was difficult judging when dawn had actually broken. The mist blocked the rising sun, causing the light to gradually grow. Annon was not sure of the moment when he realized that it was day, but the details around him grew sharper. The lush green trees, the dewy grass, the chittering of insects. Before he knew it, he realized it was dawn. Somehow it just happened.
“How far is it?” asked Annon. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“It will take most of the day,” answered Reeder. “The place we are going is on the far, far fringe of the woods. If we are lucky, we should get there before dusk.” Reeder pointed to a shimmering spiderweb. “Do you see that?”
“What kind of spirit is it?” asked Annon.
“I don’t know, but isn’t it beautiful? There’s so much about these woods I’m still learning. I miss Wayland. Of course I do. There are many different kinds of life here in Silvandom. There are creatures I’ve never even dreamed of.” He sighed. Then he gave Annon an arch look. “The most dangerous spirits, they say, are up north. In the Scourgelands. That even to look at one is to die.”
“Do you think I trust my uncle that much?”
“It is your feelings I distrust more. You’ve always been an angry lad, Annon. It makes me worry about you.”
The trees surrounding them changed from slender giants to red maples that swayed gently with the breeze. The smell of the forest was mesmerizing. There were plants that Annon had never seen before. Trailing behind them was the big cat Nizeera. Annon had almost forgotten about her, so quiet did she move. They walked for a long time in silence, watching the colors of the forest shift as they entered a new domain populated with different plants and spirits.
Reeder reached for a blanket and wrapped himself in the warm folds. “Think as long as you like. Only spare the oil lamp and blow out the flame ere you sleep.”
Annon was beginning to think that truth was like the knowledge of Mirrowen. There was evidence of it all around. Only most people did not bother to notice it. They were so set in their minds as to what existed and what didn’t that they left no room to explore the possibility that they shared the world with the spirits of Mirrowen. That both worlds existed simultaneously. That it was even possible to connect them.
“I will go with you,” Annon promised, giving his friend a smile.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Nizeera’s tail lashing. He felt her thoughts graze against his mind smugly.
Yes. Yes, you will.
He looked at her in confusion, seeing the gleaming reflection of the lamplight in her eyes.
Why do you stay with us? he asked her.
Because of my oath to you, she replied.
And why did you swear an oath to me?
There was a long pause. A shiver began from the base of his spine, welling up until he shuddered.
I did not swear the oath to you, mortal. I swore it to your mother. A Druidecht with the fireblood. Like you. Her tail began lashing back and forth. It reminded him of a serpent.
“Some say the greatest evil is physical pain. The Bhikhu reject this notion, of course. I reject it as well. Wounds of the heart run more deeply and cannot be treated with salves and herbs.”
– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The woods were dark and lonely in the morning light. A thin haze crept amidst the trees, blanketing the morning with a veil of fog. Annon and Reeder walked side by side, enjoying the brisk air and the chance to be together again. Annon’s emotions were tangled and conflicted. He thought about his uncle. He thought about Erasmus. More importantly, he wondered if he had lost his senses completely. Why was he doing this? Why was he even involved? Why had he bothered to listen to Reeder in the first place?
Amidst his tangled emotions was a sense of dread. He was worried about Hettie. What was she doing? Where was she? Was she safe? There were too many questions to answer. More than anything else, he wanted answers. He did not want explanations or excuses. He wanted to know the truth. He wanted certainty before he chose.
The spirits of Silvandom heard his troubled thoughts. There were many in the forest. They were aware of him, listening to his troubled feelings, his conflicting thoughts. He felt their presence all around him like gossamer butterflies, attracted to his intensely personal feeling of doom.
“You’re deep in thought,” said Reeder. “I was a little surprised you chose to come with me this morning.”
“I hope to find answers,” said Annon. “Is that so strange?”
Reeder chuckled. He pointed into the mist. “There are always answers. Some we do not like. Some we are not ready for. But looking for them is good all the same.”
It was difficult judging when dawn had actually broken. The mist blocked the rising sun, causing the light to gradually grow. Annon was not sure of the moment when he realized that it was day, but the details around him grew sharper. The lush green trees, the dewy grass, the chittering of insects. Before he knew it, he realized it was dawn. Somehow it just happened.
“How far is it?” asked Annon. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“It will take most of the day,” answered Reeder. “The place we are going is on the far, far fringe of the woods. If we are lucky, we should get there before dusk.” Reeder pointed to a shimmering spiderweb. “Do you see that?”
“What kind of spirit is it?” asked Annon.
“I don’t know, but isn’t it beautiful? There’s so much about these woods I’m still learning. I miss Wayland. Of course I do. There are many different kinds of life here in Silvandom. There are creatures I’ve never even dreamed of.” He sighed. Then he gave Annon an arch look. “The most dangerous spirits, they say, are up north. In the Scourgelands. That even to look at one is to die.”
“Do you think I trust my uncle that much?”
“It is your feelings I distrust more. You’ve always been an angry lad, Annon. It makes me worry about you.”
The trees surrounding them changed from slender giants to red maples that swayed gently with the breeze. The smell of the forest was mesmerizing. There were plants that Annon had never seen before. Trailing behind them was the big cat Nizeera. Annon had almost forgotten about her, so quiet did she move. They walked for a long time in silence, watching the colors of the forest shift as they entered a new domain populated with different plants and spirits.
