Suddenly, Rodruban swept his arms wide in one quick motion, and the energy around him dissipated as the light and vapors rushed in to seal Dylan's wound. Dylan tensed, expecting a shock. But to his relief, he felt only a pleasantly cool sensation, an invigorating shiver of renewed strength. In fact, he felt rather giddy; in this state, he felt as though he could conquer anything standing in his way. Even Nolan, had he been there.
"Not the best job in the world," Rodruban said diffidently, "but I don't like conjuring healing spells very much. They take a lot more out of me, for such little benefit." He sniffed tiredly, heading over to rejoin Lilia and Mygdewyn in searching the brigands' booty.
* * * * *
As it turned out, the brigands had been a more pitiful bunch than the adventurers themselves. Among the bodies, they found little gold, and only a few items of any use, a couple of ropes, some rotting rations, several plain useless swords, and other smelly torn attire and blankets. They kept the gold and ropes and left the rest, and hurried on into the wild land to avoid further trouble.
Aiovel judged that they would not reach the forest before nightfall and warned that they would have to be alert once night set in. Though she knew of a relatively safe spot to make camp for the night, they would have to hurry to make it there before nightfall, even this close to the longest day of the year. Gil trudged along, in retrospect somewhat annoyed at being kept from the fighting.
How could he learn how to be of use if they all kept protecting him excessively?
"Hey, boy, what is wrong?" Dylan said, coming up along side him. "Tell me." He already knew somewhat; but, he thought, at least Gil's conscience had been spared from taking part in the slaughter. Dylan himself had had far more difficulty than he acknowledged in adjusting from practice to the reality of battle; killing bothered him, though he tried not to dwell on it. After all, it was the brigands who had attacked their company, and they had only defended themselves.
"I wasn't any use to anybody," Gil replied unhappily and shook his head. "If I'd been any more useless, I could have gotten someone else killed back there." He added, kicking a dark grey stone with his boot. Ouch! he kept the thought inside.
His boots were thin and threadbare, unlike the others', and the unaccustomed walking stung his soles. Thanks to Lilia, there had been no time to look for anything else in the market, even assuming that someone with money would have bought new boots and clothes for him if there had been time.
Dylan looked down at Gil's feet, and his eyes narrowed in understanding.
"Tell you what, once we make camp in the forest— assuming all Aiovel's talk about being safe there is true— I'll give you a lesson in swordsmanship. How about that, eh?"
Gil said nothing, but he smiled.
* * * * *
That evening, Lilia and Mygdewyn slept soundly wrapped in their magical cloaks, but Rodruban tossed on the bare ground, the cold grass separated from his sore legs by only a thin, wool blanket. Dylan had a more comfortable rest curled up on the two large woolen blankets he'd been carrying in his pack, but the dank night wind was still chilling.
Gil lay huddled in the blanket Galanor had given him, facing the inside of their group. They had stopped on a small hill above the plains, a little north of Gyfen. A copse of trees enshrouded them, and the low bushes of the hill hid them from the unwanted attention of dangerous eyes.
It was Gil's first night out of doors, and although he felt vulnerable and slightly uncomfortable out on the open ground, how free he felt too! He heard sounds in the night that he had never noticed before; the soft movement of insects stirring in the grass, the hoot of a night owl, the wind that passed unfettered over every living thing in the wild.
Aiovel and Galanor had volunteered for the first watch. Soon Gil was having a dream about the Pegasus. Old Marnat was beating his knuckles with a switch of green wood for another accidental mistake. Gil awoke with a start; it seemed he hadn't been asleep for long, for perhaps an hour at most.
In the camp circle, Aiovel now sat in front of the pile of wood she'd been gathering. As she raised her hands above the pile, Gil watched in wonder. Two sparks shot from Aiovel's palms and set the twigs alight. In moments, a small but warming fire was blazing; the smoke faded into the dark night.
Gil closed his eyes quickly and pretended to be asleep. He lay unmoving for a long time, unable to shake the feeling that he'd witnessed something he shouldn't have. Hadn't Niel said something about magicians being able to create fire? But Gil had thought that only humans were capable of magic. At least, Niel had once told him that. But supposing Niel had been wrong? Ronan was a half-elf, after all, and he had natural magic. So perhaps elves were only more discreet with their magic than humans.
Oh, why couldn't he have all of the answers? he wondered.
Or at least some of them, he amended. Still, one thing was certain; Aiovel's fire was no illusion. In his blanket Dylan settled, no longer shivering. Rodruban stopped tossing. And after a while, even Gil found himself drifting off in the warm comfort of the blaze.
* * * * *
The next morning dawned misty and cool, and Gil awoke to Lilia's bright face.
"Good morning, Gil!" she caroled, beaming, obviously cheerful now that the sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and cool, wet weather had set in.
"What's for breakfast?" Gil asked, folding the blankets he'd borrowed from Galanor.
"Cold dried meat and stale oat biscuits." Lilia said, her raised hands displaying both like cards. Gil looked around the ring to where Mygdewyn the dwarf sat next to another figure and blinked. Rodruban had turned back into Ronan; only this time, Ronan was a tall half-elf with silvery black hair and a look of disquiet about him. A moment later Ronan smiled. The smile did his face remarkable good, Gil thought. No sense in being dour.
Gil was glad Ronan had returned, though he'd become accustomed to Rodruban. Ronan would be more willing than Rodruban to help heal anyone if they were injured.
"So, did you wake anyone else for the watch?" Dylan asked Galanor, but Galanor shook his head.
"Don't worry about me," Galanor said. "I can survive a night without sleep," he laughed. "But I thought the rest of you needed yours."
Dylan stopped rubbing his sore knees and frowned. True, he was not used to all of this walking. Why didn't it bother Galanor? The man's perpetual good humor was really beginning to annoy Dylan.
Soon after breakfast, they traveled onward. The mist that had descended through the night never cleared. Instead of brightening to a hot but bright summer's day, the dark clouds stayed low, and the air grew hot, humid, and stifling. Her enthusiasm only marginally abated by the muggy weather, Lilia strode to the head of the group beside Galanor. Gil thought she looked better than ever; but then she was perfectly amiable in the gloomy, grey weather.
Gil's boots squelched in the damp grass. One large tuft of grass sent up a cold spray that found his bare leg through a hole in his pants. Now they were stained with mud spots, but he could hardly tell the difference between the stains and the color of the pants, as dirty as they already were. Gil studied the water-darkened toes of his boots. With every step, the dew soaked further into his socks.
He had to remind himself not to look down as he walked! He wasn't in his familiar marketplace, and he really should keep his eyes open for more brigands.
Actually, the day wasn't so bad, Gil thought upon reflection as he looked about. At least it wouldn't have been, were it not so humid. The bright grass smelled good; and no matter how unpleasant the damp heat was, the wind still felt nice against his face.
As Gil looked over to Dylan, who was clearly uncomfortable, he was glad for once that he didn't have any heavy armor to wear. Yes, things could have been worse, he thought grimly. At least it wasn't raining.
But Gil should have known better than to second-guess the weather. Shortly after noon, the rain
that had been predicted by the magicians of Gyfen began to fall. It came lightly at first but then the downpour came some time after lunch. Now a steady stream of water fell from Gil's clothes and from the bangs plastered to his forehead, blinding him.
Why had he agreed to come along on this quest? Gil wondered. Nothing was turning out the way he had imagined it would, the way he had wanted it to be. He was cold and tired and getting thoroughly soaked; at least he would have been dry if he had never left the Pegasus.
No, he shook his head. He was better off where he was, rain and all. It was only his disappointment talking. The weight of his magnificent sword also taxed his strength and spirits; no doubt it would continue to do so until he learned how to use it.
Yet Gil wasn't alone. Beside him, Ronan and Dylan were getting just as soaked. As if in reminder of this, the prince suddenly cursed, no longer having anyone to advise him otherwise.
Only Aiovel, Mygdewyn, and Galanor appeared somewhat protected from the weather; no doubt their cloaks kept them drier and more comfortable, Gil thought jealously. He looked ahead for signs of cover, but even the trees on the plains seemed wilted by the torrent. Lilia, however, skipped cheerfully beside the dwarf, positively radiant.
"Curse this mud!" Dylan repeated vehemently, watching the dark waters of a deep puddle enveloping the fine gold-threaded embroidery on his leather boots.
"Actually, we should be grateful for the rain," Aiovel's voice said; she appeared beside them abruptly. Gil had difficulty containing his surprise; last time he had looked, Aiovel was walking up ahead alongside Galanor, Lilia, and Mygdewyn.
"All of this cloudy, rainy weather is what has kept any monsters from seeing us." She went on. "If this had been a bright, clear day, we would certainly have been attacked by now. Fortunately for us, brubachwycs don't like rain very much, and chamaelaeons are less common this far north, away from the fens. There usually isn't enough water up here for them."
Dylan listened and nodded, appearing to relent. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "But all the same, I wish the rain would stop."
Gil sneezed. He couldn't have agreed more.
* * * * *
Dylan's wish came true shortly before nightfall. By that time, a cold northern wind had set in with the clearing skies. Dylan and his companions shivered. Except, Dylan noticed darkly, Mygdewyn seemed quite snug in his new cloak. For that matter, so did Aiovel and Galanor.
And then there was the Sea Elf girl. Lilia, of course, adored the cold weather, just as all Sea Elves did. Dylan muttered something as she skipped past him. Her cheerfulness had begun to gall him, but he reminded himself to look on the bright side. At least in this weather she made more pleasant company for everyone.
"There it is up ahead," Aiovel announced at last and pointed to the distant horizon. Dylan squinted in the pale light; a long, low line of bright green trees shone ahead. "Elwellyn Forest. We'll be safe there."
Safe? Dylan balked. He still didn't like the idea of going in there; but, he reflected, at least they had a better chance of staying dry in the forest.
"You aren't afraid, are you, big man?" Lilia teased, but not maliciously. She seemed to have a special talent for discovering his insecurities, Dylan thought. Or did she? Maybe it had only been a casual remark to ease the tension. However, unwitting or not, she had managed to upset him. He wasn't going to let her know it, though.
"Certainly not," Dylan huffed and stalked ahead. He decided that she was more endearing when she didn't talk to him. If only he could learn to ignore these insults! Perhaps if he had learned his lesson before, with Nolan— but then he wouldn't be in this mess. Nolan's contest had driven Dylan from Dunlaith, many years earlier, and he had been wandering since.
Oh, Dylan, what have you gotten yourself into? he thought. His footsteps slowed as he approached the trees. Despite Aiovel's conviction that they would be safe within, Dylan involuntarily shuddered, unable to shrug off the stories he'd heard about this enchanted place. He paused as the others reached the canopy of trees, still hesitant to go in alone. Lilia marched up and halted beside him. Wonderful. Now she was going to shame him if she could by showing no fear of the place.
Then behind them some distance, a horrific screech echoed over the plain.
"It's a brubachwyc," Galanor said, alarmed. "We've reached the forest just in time."
Gil stood beside the prince. Dylan had craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of the horned creature back in the field, but Gil refused to look around. The continuing sound sent a shiver down Gil's spine, and he hurried ahead. As they moved with definite alacrity under the first tree, Gil heard a sigh in the rustling branches overhead.
"The forest welcomes us," Aiovel said, a bright, joyous light in her eyes.
Didn't she realize that the forest was only the lesser of two evils? Gil thought in amazement.
VI: Pixie
The sweet song of songbirds, thrushes, and nightingales and the rustling of small forest creatures in the branches of the forest began to ease Gil's nerves. He realized he had begun to enjoy their march as he hopped over a tree root in the path. Thankfully, the soft, dark dirt path didn't hurt his feet as the trek over the plains had.
Flowers grew under the wide canopy of trees, bluebells, lily-of-the-valley, and late daffodils and others he didn't recognize, and fragrant ferns and bushes of wild berries grew over the underbrush, cascaded from above by shafts of fading sunlight filtering through the leaves.
"What kind of trees are those?" Gil asked. He had directed the question to no one in particular, but Dylan stood closest to him.
"I don't know," Dylan replied thoughtfully. Gil hadn't expected he would, but Gil's question distracted the prince from dwelling on his own thoughts.
"They are Elwellyn trees, of course." Galanor laughed heartily from slightly ahead of them. A moment later, he fell back beside them. "I assume you've never seen a forest before, Gil. But Elwellyn trees grow in no other place but here. I'm rather glad Aiovel talked me into coming this way— it has been a long time since I visited this forest." He laughed pointlessly, merely for the sake of laughter. Gil found Galanor's good humor pleasant and reassuring.
"They're beautiful trees," Ronan said appreciatively, eyeing the pale grey trunks and bright green and silver leaves. "I believe they would lend quite powerful magic to my spells." He added.
Gil began to stray from the path, his attention drawn toward a small glade, carpeted by soft moss. Several clumps of bluebells grew under a small thicket of trees.
"Watch out for those bluebells," Aiovel called from up ahead. There was a distinct warning in her words, no doubt intended for Gil's benefit, but Dylan suspected some of it had been directed to Galanor as he observed Galanor's reaction.
"Yes," Galanor agreed, rather chagrined. "Pixies live in them, you know."
"Really?" Gil murmured, stepping back onto the path. "I didn't think pixies were real."
"They are real creatures I assure you," Galanor responded, enigmatic and evasive.
Dylan didn't care to talk about imaginary creatures, however; his mind was focused elsewhere.
"How are we going to pass the river?" he asked. "The map didn't show any bridges over it." He had been thinking about Aiovel's map as they marched, pondering the obstacle each natural feature presented. He hadn't seen the map since Gyfen, but even Nolan had once admitted that Dylan's memory was very good. This comment hadn't really been intended as a compliment, though.
Dylan's memory was not merely good; it was excellent. Dylan could recall images with perfect clarity, when he thought about it. The problem was that too often he forgot to think first before he acted. Even so, at times Dylan had relied upon his power of recollection to get him out of trouble. He just had to use his power of recollection to remind himself more often to think things through first.
&n
bsp; Galanor looked at Dylan, clearly impressed. Dylan hadn't necessarily stopped worrying about the present danger, but he was now thinking ahead. It was a good sign.
"The river Elwellyn has many bridges." Galanor told him with a broad grin. "Do not worry, Prince of Dunlaith."
"I don't remember any river," Lilia interrupted, shuffling her feet on the stones bordering the path as she moved beside them.
"The river Elwellyn is one great source of the river Gyfen." Aiovel explained, a step ahead of them. The path had widened considerably, enough for four to walk abreast of each other. She, Ronan, and Mygdewyn had the lead now, but soon they would have to change; even with his magical staff, the half-elf appeared on the verge of exhaustion.
"Except at the meeting of the rivers in the heart of the forest," Aiovel amended her statement. "From there the course of one branch of the Elwellyn River was altered to travel north to Herbroath. A present to an ancient king from the grateful Elwellyn Elves, long ago."
"Hmmm, I wondered about that," Dylan said. "But the people of Herbroath no longer use that river for trading."
"The city built at the delta was moved many years ago," Aiovel explained. "To where Herbroath lies now. Anyway, it will be at least a day before we reach the main part of the Elwellyn River," she added.
A moment later, Aiovel went ahead to guide the others through the branching paths on the forest floor, her course always taking the most direct line east. They passed into a small ash grove.
"We'll be stopping soon," Galanor said after a while. "I think I know where Aiovel is headed. There's a clearing nearby, but remember, Gil, to watch out for the bluebells. That goes for any other strange plants," he added, reconsidering. "The animals will, no doubt, avoid us, but the plants cannot help themselves, being stationary as they are, so we must avoid them. Don't be alarmed, Gil," he said hastily as Gil presented him with a perplexed expression. But Gil wasn't afraid; he was curious. Galanor was talking as though plants had minds of their own!