Hero of Nira

Out of the Woods and Into the Woods

   Shri paced angrily down a corridor. He didn’t care where he was going, he just needed to do something. There had been several times since he arrived when he felt his temper break towards Anuraug, but this had to be the biggest.

   “Abandon Jia?” he muttered to himself. “Of course not… Who does he think he is?” Wizard or sage or god, it didn’t matter to Shri. If he’s going to just let Jia get hurt, then he can go—

   He rounded a corner and ran smack into Anuraug.

   “Easy, there lad!” the old man said. “Best to watch where your path is leading.”

   “Is that right?” Shri said sarcastically. “Well, thanks for that.” He made to pass Anuraug and continue down the hallway, but Anuraug held out his hand.

   “I owe you an apology,” he said quietly. “That’s another thing I seem to forget. I mean, that family can be so overwhelmingly important to a person.”

   Shri said nothing in reply, but just stared at the floor.

   “I never meant to imply you should just desert your sister,” Anuraug continued. “No, that should be the last thing I’d ask of anyone. But like most men, I considered my own reasons to be the more crucial. I’m deeply sorry for that.”

   In spite of himself, Shri felt his anger ebbing away. “It… it’s okay,” he said at last.

   “I think I’ve kept you long enough,” Anuraug said. “You may leave as soon as you wish.”

   “Really?”

   “Yes. You’re obviously healthy enough now, and it seems cruel to keep you in silent suffering. I only ask one thing of you. No, don’t worry!”—he said quickly at Shri’s suspicious expression—“I won’t put you out of your way. I simply ask that you take this with you.”

   He held out his hand and offered Shri a small bundle of purple cloth. Hesitating, Shri took it and unwrapped it. Inside was the fragment of Kryon’s medallion.

   “If it is indeed needed again in the near future, it’s not going to find another wielder by remaining here. If you still choose not to find the other pieces, then at least carry this one so it may find someone else.”

   Shri stared at the shining silver for a minute before nodding slowly. “I won’t go on your quest-thing,” he said. “But I can at least help out on my way.”

   “That’s more than I can ask of you, thank you.”

***

   It took no time at all for Shri to make ready to leave. The only possessions he had were the clothes he was wearing and his bow and arrows.

   The kingbirds were uncharacteristically friendly to him. He was astonished when they presented him with a cloth sack containing a small supply of vegetables and bread, and a skein of water. When he thanked them, they rustled their wings at him and swooped away.

   Anuraug had a few gifts for Shri as well. One was a black cloak—similar to Anuraug’s own mantle—to replace the frayed and torn one Shri had. Like Anuraug’s, the new cloak sometimes seemed to shimmer with color, but unlike the old Wood Sage’s, this one chose a different color, depending on the background it was held against. Shri folded it and placed it in his bag.

   The other gift was even more astonishing. It was a map of incredible intricacy of the entire land of Nira. When Shri peered closely at Coerul village, he could swear he recognized the little ink buildings. To the north and east of the village spread the enormous Corvida Woods, and further east, like a cradle of peaks and ridges was a mountain range labelled the “Aquila Mountains.”

   “This should come in handy,” Anuraug said. “I assure you it’s up-to-date. I still have my resources, after all. Now, then. The Emperor’s capitol is far to the south, beyond the Aquila Mountains. But the mountains can be treacherous to those who know not the path. The best route I can suggest is through here…”

   Anuraug traced a long finger east out of Corvida, and through a small gap in the mountains. “After you clear the mouuntains, it’s just a straight journey south to the Emperor’s city.”

   “I… thank you!” Shri glanced at the map again before rolling it up and tucking it under his coat.

   “I only wish I had some better advice for you. I wish you the best of luck, young one.”

   Shri didn’t know what to say. After all the malicious thoughts he had felt about the Wood Sage, he couldn’t think how he could express the gratitude he felt now.

   “I wish I could…” Shri began, but Anuraug held up a hand.

   “No need, really. And worry not. Even in the midst of enemies, there are allies to be found across this world. Just keep your eyes sharp and your mind open.”

   Shri was led through the halls—and down a few tunnels he had never seen before—until finally the stone and roots fell back to reveal a clearing, ringed by masses of ancient oak trees. Shri blinked for a moment and glanced up at the sky for the first time in days. The sun and its brilliant blue domain were like old friends, and Shri almost laughed for no reason.

   “Well,” said Anuraug, “once again, good luck, lad. The kingbirds will escort you safely from the forest, but there you’ll be on your own.”

   “I think I’ll be okay,” Shri said, still grinning.

   “Right, then. Adventure time, young one! Off with you.”

   Shri followed the troupe of kingbirds to the edge of the clearing. He glanced back at the crumbling and overgrown temple, but Anuraug was nowhere in sight. With another look at the clear sky, Shri stepped back into the forest.

   The trip out of Corvida passed quickly and quietly. The kingbirds, however bright and loyal, were poor traveling companions. They kept chattering and chirping to themselves, pausing rarely to keep Shri on the right path. He had no idea how they found their way—every tree looked like the others, with a few clump of lichen and low shrubs thrown in for good measure. More than once, Shri stumbled over a hidden root, or had to climb through a thick bush to keep up with the kingbirds.

   A few hours passed before the kingbirds also took their leave. They pointed out the way to the forest edge, but they seemed hesitant to travel any farther. Shri nodded, thanked them for their help, and moved on, glad to be leaving the sea of trees behind.

   His relief was short-lived when his eyes found the Aquila Mountains. The trees of Corvida Woods crept right up to the mountains’ feet before giving way to the vast stretches of sunset-orange rock, which in turn broke into an expanse of jagged peaks and crags.

   Grunting, Shri shifted his pack and headed towards what he hoped would be the pass between the towering peaks.

***

   “I don’t get it,” Shri said out loud, tracing the map for the hundredth time. “I’m going the right way, aren’t I? I should be through by now, shouldn’t I?”

   It had been two days since he left the forest border. While the tiny mountain illustrations on Anuraug’s map were simple to understand, their real-life counterparts were anything but. The Aquila Mountains stretched in every direction, for miles it seemed.

   Two days of rock and gravel, Shri thought. The map says to go east to this peak… He peered around again at the rust-colored stone, devoid of all trees and plants. While there were mountains everywhere, there were no recognizeable landmarks anymore.

   If this keeps up, I’ll run out of supplies.

   Indeed, even while rationing his supplies, the sack the kingbirds had given him was more than half-empty. He doubted he could last another full day without more resources.

   Placing the map carefully back in his bag, Shri trudged onwards to the east, all the while hoping to see the identifiable mountain the map promised.

***

   “…torture them if you like, but their hearts will be cold by daybreak.”

   “Oh, yes Sir! Cold as mountain stone, Sir!”

   Shri tried to open his eyes, but the world was still dark. There was a light clatter, like shifting stones, and an approaching set of footsteps.

   “Just you and me, boys,” a low voice growled. Shri felt something cold and sharp pressed against his throat.

   Again came the rattle of rock, and this time Shri’s eyes really did open.

   It was night, it was cold, and he was still somewhere in the vast Aquila mountain range. He had only been dreaming the voices, but it had felt disturbingly genuine. He tentatively placed a hand on his neck, as if expecting to find something there that shouldn’t be. But there was nothing. No cold, no sharp.

   “Just a dream again,” he said. He froze.

   He was sure he heard the scraping of stone-on-stone for real. He leapt up to a crouch and drew Anuraug’s cloak around him, hoping the shifting cloth would provide some camouflage. Silently, holding his breath, he listened to the night air.

   “Kwaaa!”

   CRASH!

   Shri’s head snapped to the left. He was sure he heard that, a yell and the smash of a large rock falling.

   “Shhh!” a voice hissed. “You feather-head! Shut your screecher or Visitor-Guy will hear.”

   “Loose boulder, hoke’we… Not my felt!”

   “You mean ‘fault,’ log-brain. Now shut it!”

   Shri strained his ears to find the source of the voices, but there was no moon, and the darkness was impenetrable.

   “Snag ‘im!”

   Something heavy landed on Shri, throwing him face first into the gravel. His hands were jerked behind his back and tied, and something was wrapped tightly around his head.

   “Who are you?!” he yelped.

   “We?” one voice said. “We are…”

   “Idiot!” the second voice said. “We don’t give our names, Querin! First lesson in capturing prisoners!”

   “But you just…”

   “A fine Pikto warrior you’ll be someday, I bet! Giving names in front of a prisoner! That’s why I’m in charge, and you’re following my orders. Now let’s get back to camp!”

   Shri was lifted to his feet and pushed forward. He honestly didn’t know how to react. On the one hand, he was captured by unseen and unknown foes. On the other hand, well…

   “What’s a Pikto?” he asked. The hands driving him stopped.

   “What did he say?” the leader’s voice said. “Did you tell him that? Querin, you salamander! Bug-eater!”

   “But I didn’t… you…”

   “No excuses at all! I’ll just have to report this to Aerkin! This won’t do at all!”

   A harder shove told Shri it was time to continue onward.

   “Sometimes I wonder why they put me in charge of you,” the leader grumbled.

   “You’ll vouch for me, right, nestling?” Querin’s voice whispered in Shri’s ear, leaving Shri even more bewildered than before.

***

   “So…” Shri said casually. “Where are we going?”

   “Homeward nestward, fishy,” Querin’s voice answered. “Somewhere over… that way…”

   His voice trailed off, followed by a low thumping sound, and a small yelp of pain.

   “Your ears are filled with gravel, underling,” the leader said sharply.

   And the three continued on in silence.

   So had passed the last several hours, with the same pattern: Shri asked a question, Querin replied, and the leader—whose name turned out to be Aquoro—would supply a rebuke. Shri was surprised at how much information he had learned in this manner.

   As it turned out, Querin and Aquoro were from a forest on the eastern edge of the Aquila Mountains. They and their tribe—called Piktos—lived deep in the woods under the leadership of someone named Aerkin. Shri couldn’t decide what manner of man Aerkin was, though. Some of Querin’s answers implied a man of enormous stature with arms the size of tree trunks, or else he was a sculpture made of mud and animal pelts.

   In fact, most of what the two Piktos spoke of seemed utter nonsense to Shri. Even Aquoro, who seemed relatively sane, would occasionally break out singing about a great chieftain who decided to try and milk fish.

   By now, Shri could feel warmth from the morning sun on his face, though his eyes remained covered by cloth. The ground beneath his feet had ceased crunching like gravel, becoming much softer and more muffled. He presumed they were finally out of the mountains and were entering a forest, a theory confirmed by the now-intermittent pattern of sunlight visible from the bottom of his blindfold.

   Another hour passed before Shri was made to stop.

   “Akwe-a-ko!” Aquoro said suddenly. “Where has it run off to!?”

   “Who ran where?” Shri asked.

   “I can still see it,” Querin said. “Straight up and shiny, like always…”

   “Not the sky-fire-thing!” Aquoro barked, followed by yet another thumping sound. “Not the sun, you twig-catcher! Where has the camp vanished at?”

   “Uh…”

   “It was right here yesterday! I know it was!”

   There was a frantic scuffling sound, like an animal burrowing.

   “Camp was… that way…” Querin said.

   The digging sounds stopped, replaced by an incomprehensible stream of curses from Aquoro.

   “Of course I knew,” he snapped. “I was only… eluding… our friend Guy here. Basic rules of tracking: Never let anyone know where you are, even you.”

   “But, I know where you are,” Querin said. “I can see you right now.”

   “Maybe, but you’re an idiot, so you can’t be trusted. Oooh, Aerkin will tie you to a fencepost for this…”

   “Excuse me,” Shri interrupted, testing his luck. “This blindfold is itching a bit. Do I really have to wear it?”

   Before anyone could say anything, the rough cloth was yanked off his head and he stood blinking in a patch of sunlight.

   They were indeed in a forest, but it was nothing like Corvida Woods. Anuraug’s forest had been packed with ancient broad-leaved maples and oakes. The trees here were no less enormous, but were covered instead with flaking sheets of reddish bark, and instead of broad leaves there were millions of tiny leaves no bigger than a dragonfly’s tail. The trunks sprawled outwards at the base, disappearing into the thick mat of fallen needle-leaves.

   The two Pikto warriors were surprisingly average—hunters clad in leather and fur, carrying small hatchets and a bow each—except for the headgear. Both heads were adorned in the same fashion: with an enormous drooping plume that resembled a fox’s tail more than an actual feather. Shri almost leapt back in alarm.

   One of the Piktos (the shorter of the two) was practically stamping his feet in anger.

   “You badger! You beetle! You… you…”

   He jabbed a finger at his companion, his beady black eyes glittering menacingly.

   “Just trying to help,” Querin said, a sheepish expression spreading over his round face.

   “Trying to help the prisoner!” Aquoro barked, thumping Querin hard on the shoulder. “Now that he knows where we are, we might as well turn him loose!”

   “If you say so…”

   To Shri’s surprise, Querin made to untie Shri’s hands before Aquoro leapt in and stopped him.

   “Hoke’we! Bark-eater! You only follow my orders! Hear?”

   “I was. You said, ‘Turn him loose.’”

   “That’s what I heard,” Shri chimed in.

   Aquoro seemed likely to explode. He stared furiously at Querin, then at Shri, then at Querin again.

   “Enough!” he roared. “Rehak’wo, I give up! Kill him, cook for him, marry his mother, I don’t care! I’m leaving, and see if you can find your way back without me!”

   With that, Aquoro stormed off, leaving Shri alone with Querin, who was pointing in the opposite direction from Aquoro.

   “But camp is that way…” Querin said quietly.