Whispering Woods

CHAPTER 13

One second Gull stared helpless at a hobnailed armored boot poised to crush him -the next the sky filled with white, and the dank moldy smell of mushrooms washed over him.

Something huge loomed over Gull, something that made the armored avatar seem a mouse in comparison, as if the moon had come to earth.

The thing cast its own cold sickly light, like the foxfire of swamps or the glitter of lightning bugs. The woodcutter saw a head the size of a cottage, goggling glowing yellow eyes, and teeth like the stone spears of a cave. The beast was white all over, with that dank glow, speckled with rows of brownish-gray lumps.

Mushrooms, Gull realized. The beast was one giant mushroom speckled with a thousand more. The rank musty smell was overwhelming. Flakes big as plates fell from the beast's shoulders and broke on the ground, the way oyster mushrooms sloughed from birch trees in fall.

But the teeth were what touched the armored wizard.

The headless warrior balked as if hitting a wall. The mushroom monster's maw swung toward it and bit down. With a sickening crunch, stone teeth shattered on red-silver armor.

The women dropped to the ground as the avatar struggled, grabbed for anything to prevent disappearing into the maw. The mouth, big as a well, opened farther, swallowed half the armored carcass. Metal gloves plucked at the lumpy lips. White chunks crumbled, rained on Gull and the dancing girls. With a sudden surge of strength and terror, Gull crawled out of the way, bumping his sister and Lily with his head.

Then the armored wizard was gone.

Gull blinked. Swallowed? Or…?

No. There went the avatar, a wisp like ashes, flickering into the sky.

The giant mushroom monster growled deep in its throat. Goggle eyes like a fish's rolled, hunted. The thing was huge, tall as the dead trees, long as a barn. It picked up a bloated pulpy foot, lurched toward the wagons. People howled.

Then the beast changed color.

Waves of brown welled upward from the ground, flushed green near the middle, flooded blue at the top. Gull was reminded of Towser's gown, with its ascending stripes. For a few seconds, the mushroom-monster stood bathed in multicolored light. Then it collapsed onto itself, withered, and sank into the ground.

Leaving no trace.

Gull sat up, propped by one hand. The distant bonfire had died, unattended. The black riders were gone, as were the dark wagons, the lions, the avatar, the smoke, the skeletal goblins, the nightmare. Only a jumble of zombies and a meandering wall of swords, pitifully thin, remained.

The battle was over.

From his perch on the wagon seat, Towser peered around the horizon. The sun leaked through shattered trees in the east. The warm light was encouraging, for it revealed the brave greenery, the renewal of hope.

"We beat him!" the wizard crowed. "Let's pack up and git!"

But the sunrise, and the return to sanity and normalcy, also revealed the aftermath of battle: wreckage, wounds, and ruin.

Most of the entourage had only slept a few hours after a day of digging, then suffered a night of fighting. They were baggy-eyed, bruised, dirty, half-naked, crow-voiced. Gull couldn't count his wounds: a triple rake on the shoulder that needed the nurse's stitching, a pinked ham, scabby forehead, sore ribs, mashed fingers, and more.

Yet they must move on. Though Towser wouldn't confirm their suspicions, the mana vault might attract magicians from miles around, as Morven speculated.

As Felda spiced ale and sliced bacon for breakfast, the bodyguards and Gull inspected the chuck wagon. It was a loss. Axles and wheels were broken, the side smashed, the tongue snapped off. They righted the men's wagon, which was intact, and pushed it alongside. They hauled out the bodyguard's rucksacks and bedrolls-soldiers of fortune, they owned little-and hung them outside the wagon. The bodyguards would have to sleep outdoors in cold and wet and mosquitoes.

Silently they transferred the chuck supplies to the new wagon. Most cooking goods were intact, being of iron, but plates and crocks and bottle had smashed, barrels had leaked, some dry goods had spoiled. There was room enough in the new wagon, though things were heaped on the floor instead of nesting in cupboards, and everyone feared short rations later.

All went smoothly until Gull, exhausted, stumbled and banged shoulders with Kem. Instantly, every man dropped his goods and reached for a knife, Gull for his drover's whip.

Kem the Scarfaced growled, "You're too clumsy for this work, shit shoveler! Let men finish the job!"

"I didn't see you slay any dragons last night!" Gull grated. "Were you guarding the women from the rear?"

"Gut him, Kem!" shouted pretty-boy Chad, too loud. Their dulled nerves were rasped raw. "I can handle the horses! Let him feed beetles!"

Morven shifted his feet. "You're fast with your mouth, Chad, urging others to brawl. Mayhap you'd dance a hornpipe with me-"

Actually, Gull thought, if anyone swung a fist, he'd probably fall down and stay down. Then a high-pitched shout from Towser interrupted them. "I don't pay you to stand and talk! You're all docked a day's wages! Knoton, take note! And next time'll be a week!"

None answered back. It was only the generous pay that kept them here. With snorts and muttered threats, they picked up tools and victuals. Kem hissed, "We'll settle later, Gullshit!"

"You'll talk me to death, eh, Kem-pletely Helpless?" Gull threw his load inside and stalked off to count livestock.

Only a half dozen animals had returned to camp. The rest were scattered through the forest. Gull needed help, and said so to the clerk. Sorting his own papers and supplies, Knoton nodded. "Take Jonquil. She came from a ranch and knows how to ride. And Chad. He worked with horses on the plains. And the bard. She can do everything."

So Gull got the yellow-bedecked Jonquil, a big woman with solid arms and legs and large hands and feet, freckles and red-gold hair, as well as the berib-boned bard, Ranon Spiritsinger. Civil enough under Towser's eye, Chad agreed to hunt south in the woods for the animals, while Gull and Jonquil would hunt north near the crater. Everyone rode bareback, for there were no saddles. They used the long wagon traces as reins, which meant a lot of leather draped over the withers. For the pain in his rump and the burn in his shoulder, Gull had to hold the animal's mane too.

With the forest so open, it didn't take Gull long to locate two stray mules, a pair of horses normally yoked together, two black cavalry horses with shiny black saddles and tack, as well as his axe, which lay near the rim of the pit where he'd hurled it at the black captain. He frowned at the dew rust on the blade.

"Is that him down there?" asked Jonquil. Her voice was plain and uncultured, not trained for singing. She reminded Gull of the farm girls of White Ridge, and- a pang-the lost Cowslip. A sturdy finger pointed into the crater where sprawled a black corpse.

"Aye." Gull picketed the black horses to a lead. "Something will eat him soon enough."

Jonquil swung from the saddle with easy, if chunky, grace. "He won't need whatever's in his purse, then."

As Gull worked, she slid down the crater and looted the body. Upon her return, he asked, "Find anything?"

"Not much." She brushed back her hair, but her casual air was forced. Idly Gull wondered how much the captain had carried. He should have looked himself. But warfare-and scavenging-were still new.

"Here. You can have this." She handed Gull a sheathed knife. Curious, he took it, then remembered. It had caught fire last night. The handle was jet, black leather wrapped with black wire. The pommel was diamond-shaped: a skullpopper. He drew the long white blade gingerly, expecting it to flare up, but nothing happened. Had the enchantment been linked to the man's life force? Shrugging, he tucked it in his belt, thanked her. Though he guessed she'd never have surrendered it, had she known it was magic.

"Do you love Lily?" Jonquil's sudden question jarred him.

"Eh?" Gull stalled as he remounted. "Love? Oh, I don't know… I… like her very much…"

Gull frowned. In truth, he didn't know how he felt. Lily was pleasant company, comforting. Starved for simple affection, she'd latched onto him. Was that love? He had panicked when he'd thought to lose Lily. Was that love?

Jonquil shrugged big shoulders, grabbed the mare's mane, hoisted her broad butt. "She loves you."

Gull flapped the reins, suddenly unsure what to do with them. "If you say so."

Jonquil rolled red-rimmed eyes and clucked to her horse. Expertly, she wheeled her mount to circle the crater.

On the way back, Gull dismounted, secured the string of horses to a tree, and inspected the wavering line of stone spears that jutted incongruously from the forest floor. By day, they were not white, but shimmering rainbows of pale earth colors: white, tan, brown, red, blue-gray. What part of the Domains grew these, he wondered? Shaking his head, he snapped a spear off, a present for his sister. She liked pretty oddments.

Back in camp, Gull gave the stone spear to Greensleeves, was rewarded by a happy cooing.

He found himself fairly happy when he counted the livestock. They'd lost four animals to lions or flight, had found two cavalry horses with saddles, so were down two, but less one wagon, were actually two ahead. The bodyguards were pleased, for they could ride the saddled blacks. Towser decided to put one bodyguard on scout, but also one in the rear to see they weren't followed.

Gull was less pleased, for the new chuck wagon had a mixed team, two horses and two mules, always trouble. Different heights, different gaits, and who was ahead got their tails bitten. But his mulewhip would break those bad habits.

Eager to be away, Towser pushed, berated, insulted, threatened to fire the lot-an empty threat out here, Gull thought. Still, everyone picked up, dumped stuff in the wagons, looked around for anything left-only the dead knight Morven had shot-then rolled off through the blasted forest. Within two hours they were out of the burn zone, back in natural forest. By noon the wagons slowed as the drivers fell asleep at the traces. Towser relented, allowed them to camp the night. Everyone dropped where they sat and slept the afternoon away.

They were not attacked, which Gull thought just as well. One and all would have surrendered just to rest.

But even in his logy afternoon dreams, Gull framed questions to Towser. Dozens of questions that robbed his mind of rest.

Supper was quiet. Felda groused she couldn't find anything, and what she did find was bent or broken. Stiggur wore a path to the new wagon fetching things and shifting loads.

Gull folded his salt pork and pickles into a half loaf of bread and worked as he ate. Hobbling, bent as an old man, he checked hooves, smeared salve on lion scratches and branch scrapes and strap chafes- smeared some on his own scrapes and wounds- checked the wagons for large damage. He skipped many items, for he wanted spare time before bed.

It was still late when he approached Towser.

The wizard sat in the back of his wagon. The flap was up, the first time Gull had ever seen the interior. It was gaily painted inside as out. There were, as Lily said, boxes and boxes, of books and stinkpots and little clockwork engines, all framed along the walls, and glassed-in lamps that let him work at night, though one had cracked in the battle. In addition, an ornate bed that folded against the wall lay wide enough for three people: the wizard and two dancing girls.

Gull recognized a few things Towser had evidently picked up. A grimy bone, perhaps plucked from a zombie. A hunk of mushroom from the beast. A long gray hair, perhaps from the nightmare.

But Gull wasn't interested in Towser's habits or work. Only "Towser, I would have some answers." Gull knew he sounded surly, for he was angry. Further, having grown up in a village of equals, he knew not how to defer to "betters."

The wizard didn't look up. By yellow lamplight, he sketched with a quill in his little book of magic: the grimoire chained to his belt of pouches. He averted the page lest Gull see. "And why need I give you answers? Do you work for me or the other way around? And do you realize that princes give whole fortunes to wizards for answers to their questions?"

His tone was lofty, aloof. Gull suspected he'd practiced these words-indeed, had anticipated his coming.

Stubborn, the woodcutter was not put off. "There are things I do not understand, things you do, or I suspect you do. Things-"

Towser blew on the page to dry ink. "Can you understand this? I mind the answers, you mind the stock and wagons-"

"-I need to know to continue in your employ. Otherwise, I take my sister and my pay and go. We can find our own way out of these woods."

Towser rolled his eyes and sighed, as an adult will at the prattling of children. "Very well. I need a freightmaster. Ask and be quick about it."

Gull was surprised he acceded so quickly, but again it felt rehearsed. Was this wizard that much smarter, and dumb as the horses? Whatever, he asked.

"Last night, I saw the centaurs from the battle at White Ridge. Helki and Holleb. She cried they were captives, forced to fight. You sent them home to their steppes. But have you enslaved them to fight for you, now?"

Shaking his head, the wizard flipped through his book, stopped at a different page. He rubbed his stomach as if it hurt, and Gull remembered he had troublsome bowels, or imagined he did. "The centaur-folk of Broken Toe Mountain in the Green Lands are mercenaries. Parceled all over the Domains. Every wizard uses them: they are superlative fighters. But if I conjured them, 'twas accidental. Probably they've sold their allegiance to some other wizard and become part of another army."

Gull shook his head back. "I don't understand. Why claim they were captives?"

"Perhaps they are." Towser stopped fidgeting and stared Gull in the eyes. The woodcutter couldn't look away, as if he were a chicken hypnotized by a hawk. "Mayhaps the party they joined was captured. They prosper by ransom. My bringing them here and then returning them to their home in the steppes would have freed them. No doubt they'd thank me."

Frowning, Gull pondered that magic was beyond him. He tried another question. "Did you fell those zombies with a weakness spell? And was it the same spell that felled so many villagers-and my family-in White-"

"I have no weakness charm, for it's too cruel a spell. I used an unlife spell on the zombies. It doesn't steal life, just returns it whence it belongs, leaving them inanimate corpses again. It has the advantage of not driving mana from any human or beast in the area-you'll notice there were no dead birds near the zombies."

Dead birds? wondered Gull. What had that to do with anything? He was mixed up. Towser continued to stare. With the light behind him, his eyes glowed like an owl's even as his finger drew queer circles on a page.

"Well, never mind," the woodcutter acceded. He shifted his feet. "Uh… what's an avatar? You used that word-"

"A projection of your persona at a distance. I thought we fought an actual wizard in that armor. Turns out the wizard stayed at some distance and worked the armor from there. And gave voice. Like a simulacrum. A handy spell I wish I knew."

Me too, thought Gull inanely. Then he could be elsewhere, out from under this burning stare. "Uh… what was that mushroom-monster?"

A small shrug, and the first sign of reticence from the wizard. "A… fungusaur. As you say, a mushroom-monster. They live underground."

Gull could have sworn. Of course. He was so tired he was stupid. "Why did that wizard-or avatar-try to kidnap my sister? What is she to him?"

Another shrug. "Why did the black knight carry off Lily? Men have needs only women can satisfy. The wizard could not know your sister is simple. Not that it would matter, for his purposes."

Before that insult could penetrate Gull's fogged mind, Towser said, "It's late, Gull. We must get an early start. Why not retire?"

Suddenly, Gull felt a weight descend on him, almost press him to the ground. He gasped. He'd barely crawl to his bedroll, he was so exhausted. "Y-yes. Good idea… Good… night…"

"Good-night, son," smiled the wizard, as the woodcutter trudged away yawning.

Gull peeked in on his sister, asleep curled in her shawl like a cat, and then crawled under the wagon. Lily waited in his bedroll. "Did you get any answers from Towser?"

She scooted aside as Gull crashed down and yawned. "Yes… I found out… everything…"

"I doubt that. Towser's got questions himself. I know he wonders about that mushroom beast."

"Eh? What… about it?"

"You didn't notice how it vanished? No? It was strange. When Towser conjures a thing, it twinkles like stars on a summer night. True?"

Gull groaned, "Whatever, dear…"

"And when that armored wizard conjured and banished, his pawns withered to ashy things and blew away. Yet when the mushroom-beast appeared and disappeared, it flooded with colors from the ground up, like a big plant growing! That's neither Towser's magic, nor the other wizard's, else the monster wouldn't have attacked him. So you know what that means!"

"No." It ached just to say that much. Gull hurt all over, so tired he couldn't lift his head. His lion wounds burned and itched.

"It means some other wizard conjured it, someone close by!"

"The astrologer, perhaps. Or the bard. Don't they do magic, little bits? She can even ride a horse… And that reminds me…" Despite his fatigue, Gull propped on his elbows. "Lily, why did Towser hire me as freighter? Chad's a bastard, but he's a better wrangler than I. Jonquil's the same. I saw that today. Why did Towser need me?"

The girl frowned in the dark. "Jonquil told me she told you I love you. Is that true?"

"What? Hunh?" Gull's mind reeled. What had happened to his question? "Um, yes, she mentioned it."

"And what do you think of it?" She leaned over him in the dark. He could smell perfume in her hair, mint on her breath.

"I'm glad you-like me," he mumbled.

"Love you," she whispered, her breath warm in his ear.

"Yes," was all he could answer. "I-like you very much, Lily."

"That's not what a woman wants to hear."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I don't know… what I know anymore. Every day I know less, it seems."

The dancing girl laid her head on his shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose, but he was too tired to brush it away. "You and me both."

"Hm? How's that?"

She murmured, her breath warm on his skin. "Something's happening to me, Gull. Strange… ideas and feelings I've never had before. The whispering in my head. And sometimes a tingling in my hands and feet, as when the armored wizard came near. I don't know what it means… I do know I love you, though."

Gull patted her head awkwardly, fought to stay awake. "You deserve better than me, Lily. Someone to love you and care for you, give you a decent home. I don't own but my clothes and some worn-out tools and a handful of silver."

"I don't care about that. You saved my life. Rescued me from that rapist knight. I won't forget that." She rolled onto him, pressed her lips and body against his.

Half-asleep, Gull never was sure what happened next.

A few days later, they left the Whispering Woods.

The break was clean. They came to a drop-off where the black forest loam and big trees ended. Thirty feet below the land turned sandy, clothed with stiff grass and evergreen trees no taller than a man.

"A pine barrens," Morven told them. "Easy enough to cross, if you didn't mind stickers in your britches, but water's scarcer'n rum. It sinks into the sand and disappears. These pines and cedars have taproots a mile long, I've heard."

From this lip, they saw that beyond the barrens lay some lower pocket where vultures circled, then gray-green hills rolled out of sight. Towser unfurled a parchment map, pronounced them the Ice-Rime Hills, and noted a swamp before them: the hidden pocket.

"Should be lots of black lotuses there, children. I'll give a gold crown to the first person who shows me one. Alive. Don't pluck them."

They backtracked to a stream, filled every empty vessel and stoppered them. Then Gull began the heartbreaking task of easing the wagons down the drop-off. After thought and argument and experiment, they worked out a way of emptying a wagon, warping it to trees as a brake, then using a doubled team of mules to lower while some plied levers to prevent it flipping. It took three days before they could march across the pine barrens.

The land was sandy and crisscrossed with foot-tripping roots and grass sharp enough to pierce a girl's slipper. With the air trapped between forest and hills, flies and mosquitoes plagued them, until Gull and the nurse Haley mixed up pennyroyal extract and paraffin in mineral oil as a repellent. The mules walked slowly, careful of their footing, but the wagons rolled lightly over the corduroy roots. They made good time.

Within four days, they reached a swamp. A road of sorts, much bogged, skirted along the south. The insects were worse, but the hills looked rounded and surmountable, Gull was glad to see.

The bodyguards argued about first watch. Each was eager to hunt black lotuses. Lily explained Towser often offered bonuses for certain prizes as they traveled. Black lotuses were full of mana, it was said.

Drawing the short straw, Kem got first watch.

But around midnight, at changeover, Chad paced so much he woke Gull. The woodcutter growled, "Take it out there, will you? Some of us want to sleep!"

Chad suggested an obscenity, but added fitfully, "Kem hasn't returned yet. He's late."

"Late?" Gull eased Lily's head off his shoulder, rolled out of his bedroll. Quickly he reached for the pennyroyal oil and slathered it on. "He's never been late before."

"I know that!" Chad sneered. But clearly he was worried. "Once the fire died down, I saw lights out there. I've been wondering-"

Gull grabbed his arm. "Lights? Where? Show me!"

Fretful, Chad didn't argue. He led down to the edge of the swamp. "Somewhere out-there!"

Gull gaped. At a stone's throw, winking off and on, floating and sinking, of all sizes, bobbled soft glowing balls of green-white light.

"Knees of Gnerdel," the woodcutter gasped. "Don't you know what those are?"

"No," Chad muttered. "What?"

"Turn around or you're lost! Don't look at them!" Spinning, his back to the swamp, Gull explained. "They would appear sometimes in the bog below White Ridge! Those are will-o'-the-wisps! They lure folk into the wetlands to die, and the swamp feeds off their bodies!"

"Then Kem's out there!"