The Dark Cycle - Chapter Four

Chapter 4

The Woods

The sound of the bell, crashing down into the bottom of the bell-tower, achieved the desired effect. Farmers and cottagers began to gather at the town square, children in tow, carrying all manner of possessions. They received further information through Grey’s screaming down at them: “We all need to get out of here, or we’re going to die horrible deaths!”

The villagers could see for themselves that the storm was approaching, and that it was no ordinary storm. The wind began to pick roofing from the buildings, tossing all manner of debris into the courtyard surrounding the Crooked Arms Tavern. When Stephen and Raeffe went to the stables to collect Lander, they were greeted with a typhoon of dirt and straw that nearly knocked them over.

“This day can get stuffed,” Raeffe said, spitting hay out of his mouth.

“For once, we agree,” Stephen replied.

Once they collected the horse, they joined the thin crowd of people trying to escape southward. Lyle Cullen the bell-ringer came with them, his chicken Gertrude tucked under his arm. The fleeing processional also included all manner of stray animals and a nervous cow that kept knocking into people, and didn’t seem to have an owner. A sleek tabby-cat kept following Lyle, and looking up hungrily at Gertrude.

The chicken eventually squirmed out of Lyle’s arms and, for a moment, Stephen was afraid the cat would gobble up the bird. But Gertrude fearlessly attacked the tabby, throwing her weight around and cackling in great annoyance. The cat was so surprised, it only twitched and backed slowly away.

“What a battly chicken,” Grey observed as Lyle dismounted and picked the bird back up. “We had chickens at our manor. But they were the normal sort.”

“She’s all I have in the world,” Lyle said, which seemed to be true. He had taken nothing with him besides Gertrude and the horse he and Grey were riding - a world-weary packhorse named Dismal Donkey, who was the only animal in the entire village who did not seem worried at all about the storm. He kept wandering off the road to eat weeds.

Lander, the beautiful charger, was more intense. He kept trying to break into a gallop. Stephen had agreed to ride behind Raeffe, who was handling the bridle. But Raeffe was having a hard time managing Lander, who was growing more anxious by the minute.

“Try not to keep your grip so tight,” Stephen recommended. “Lander can feel your tension.”

“I’m not tense,” Raeffe snapped.

In answer, Stephen pinched Raeffe in the arm, causing Raeffe to lurch so far in his saddle, he would have fallen off if Stephen hadn’t grabbed him.

“See?” asked Stephen.

“I’m not tense!” Raeffe screamed. “Touch me again and I’ll have you executed!”

“I think you’re a little tense, brother,” Grey teased. “Ease up on the reigns.”

Raeffe’s only response was a huffing sigh. But his shoulders did slump a bit and his breath got easier. Stephen could hear him muttering: “Of course I’m not tense. I’m only fleeing a killer-storm that can blot out the sun. What’s there to be tense about?”

But Stephen could barely hear Raeffe’s voice over the growing roar of the wind. Many of the villagers had reached the cottages of friends, or the cellars near a stretch of vineyards, and had peeled away from the group. As their companions began to thin, Lyle the bell-ringer called out:

“Follow me! I know a place where we will be safe.”

He began to drive Dismal off the road. Stephen could see little in the darkness, beyond the pale halo of light coming from Lyle’s lantern. He saw only darkness, but then - deeper, greater darkness. Lyle was riding toward some kind of forest.

Raeffe urged Lander forward, and they all went toward the tree-line. Lyle led them into a forest path, which was almost completely obscured by a tangle of roots and prickly bushes. They were forced to dismount from the horses, which was particularly hard on the young noblemen. Grey stumbled from one side of the path to the other, exhausted, and swatting at flies. Raeffe kept wincing whenever he took a step.

“There’s blood in my shoes,” he told Stephen. “It squishes.”

“I can give you a piggyback ride,” Stephen offered. “You’re so little.”

Raeffe hesitated and for a moment, Stephen thought he might say yes. But finally, his usual pride won out, and he muttered: “I’d rather walk my feet clean off.”

Stephen chuckled to himself, but even he was growing weary. At least the sounds of the storm were falling away into the background. And they seemed to have outrun the clouds: Stephen could smell rain, and feel the electricity in the air, but a placid moon was now shining down on them, and illuminating patches of the forest floor.

Lyle led them to an abandoned stone building in the center of a forest clearing. It was a squat structure with a tiled roof, and beautifully carved windows. The forest, however, was slowly taking custody of the space. Roots and grasses grew beneath the stones and the northern corner had caved in.

“This is where Lyle brings his human sacrifices,” said Raeffe in a low voice. “We never should have trusted this foreigner. And now I’m going to die.”

“Don’t be silly,” Stephen whispered. “If he wanted to kill us, he would have done it already.”

“At least I’ll get to rest,” was Raeffe’s only answer. He picked up the long train of his tunic and walked up the steps to the building. As he passed Lyle, who was holding the heavy wooden door open, he said: “This is a lonely spot! Come here often? Bring new friends?”

The bell-ringer grinned and looked up at the stone building’s moonlight-bathed facade. “This is actually a very ancient place. It is an Angilaine Bath.”

“Wow!” Grey exclaimed. “But not really.”

“No, really,” Lyle laughed, pointing deeper into the dark, tomb-like room. At the center was a pool with a scummy surface. “Go for a dip, if you fancy it.”

“Grey, do not get in that water,” Raeffe snapped. “It looks like vomit, warmed over. It’s full of disease. Grey!”

He had to shout this because his thick little brother was already running his hand over the surface. “So many bugs!” Grey exclaimed with childish glee.

Stephen almost laughed, but he was still listening to the storm outside, and was nervous. The gale seemed to subside as soon as they entered the gloomy building, but he could still hear the sharp crack of thunder, and feel the hairs on his arms prickling up.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asked Lyle.

“Safest place I know,” Lyle answered, his voice echoing, deep-sounding against the stones. “The Angilaines knew how to build a proper structure, let me tell you. We can wait this out and then go back to the village.”

“I wouldn’t,” Stephen said, “not if I were you.”

His words fell heavy in the room. Grey had been tossing chalky pebbles into the water; now he stopped, and looked somberly at Stephen. Raeffe sighed and stuck his hands in the deep pockets of his cloak.

“This storm will come back,” Stephen said. “It came back, again and again, until it devoured our village. Several - a shepherd, and a falconer - saw the storm approach slowly. It kept coming for us.”

“You mean it’s growing?” Lyle asked, before answering his own question: “That’s impossible.”

“Not growing - not exactly,” Stephen stammered, looking to Raeffe for help.

Raeffe sighed, before complying with this silent request: “It seems to come and go. Like waves against a shore. Coming for us, and then retreating.”

“Like one of the heavenly planets, rotating around the sun,” Stephen corrected him. “But Raeffe - listen. It can’t just be like waves on the shore. It spirals. It moves on a track, never disseminating, but keeping its form.”

“I see. Like this, perhaps?” Lyle asked. He picked up a branch from the ground and began to move it in a circle. He drew an ellipsis, then brought it closer and closer to Grey, until he was skimming the edge of the pool. He then flicked the branch against Grey’s ankles. “Got you.”

“That’s not funny,” Grey snapped, suddenly turning serious. “That storm killed our father.”

“We don’t know if he’s dead,” Raeffe muttered.

“Yes, you do,” Grey said. “And I’m tired of you saying otherwise, when the truth is so evident in your looks and manner. I’m not a child, you can speak plainly to me.”

But Raeffe’s only response to this entreaty was a sneer. He shook his head and turned away from his brother, shuffling toward one of the windows and looking out into the tangled forest.

Lyle watched all of this patiently, then turned to Stephen. “Do you like my illustration?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s moving South.”

“I suppose so.”

Lyle groaned and muttered a couple of swear words to himself. Stephen watched as Lyle turned toward the door, watching the world outside with a morose stare. After waiting for a few moments, Stephen followed him and stood by his side.

“What is in the South?” Stephen ventured.

Lyle only shrugged at first. Together, they watched the powerful winds rip the branches from trees and observed the erratic bursts of lightning. Stephen felt chilly and shuddered without meaning to. Lyle then unsnapped the collar of his cloak and draped it around Stephen’s shoulders.

“The South is a big mess, right about now,” Lyle told him. “The Knights of Oblivion - those bloated, meat-headed idiots - have taken possession of the Dark Wold. If you are right, and this storm is moving South, then it is headed straight for their siege at the last of the Three Stone Cities.”

“The City of Iron,” Stephen said.

“You know your politics,” Lyle said approvingly.

“My father did. He used to talk about the goings-on in the wider world.” Stephen shook his head. “Those poor people, all trapped in the city. They don’t know what’s coming for them.”

“Aye…” Lyle said, looking thoughtful as he gazed at the growing storm.

This was interrupted by a snooty: “Ahem.” Raeffe was shuffling over, his arms crossed, and an unhappy scowl on his face. “Lyle, your chicken has decided to swim in the baths. You might want to put a stop to that - the water looks like diarrhea and I just saw the world’s largest cockroach floating out of one of the gutters.”

“Ah, no - Gertrude!” Lyle snapped, rushing back into the giant stone room. “You’ll slick up your feathers, my love.”

“Brak, brak, brak!” said Gertrude, splashing about indignantly.

Stephen did not follow Lyle. He remained at the door, staring northward, where the crest of the storm was breaking.

“I think it’s almost over,” Raeffe said. “We outran it. Good. The sooner we leave, the better - this place smells so bad, it makes my eyes water.”

“Yes,” Stephen said somberly. “Then, we ride South on Lander. We warn everyone we meet.”

“No, no, no,” Raeffe corrected him. “You clearly don’t understand how this works. I will take Lander - and Grey - and I will go to the Ladies of the March, where my aunt lives. You can bumble about the South if you wish. Perhaps Lyle will even let you take Misery the Mule.”

“Dismal. And he’s a donkey.”

“Whatever. Or you can go on foot for all I care,” Raeffe said. When Stephen did not reply for several moments, Raeffe ventured in a less-snooty, more-normal voice: “Sorry if that sounded mean-spirited. But Grey and I can help best by getting word to the nobles.”

“By then, it will be too late,” Stephen concluded, turning to go back into the baths.

He found Lyle and Grey busy trying to start a campfire, and trying to keep Gretrude from plopping down on the bed of sticks they were creating. Whenever Lyle and Grey would turn around to fetch more sticks or kindling, she would nestle down on the pile and wiggle her bottom around, upsetting their tidy setup.

Stephen grabbed Gertrude and held her fast. He said: “I am going South to warn people about the storm. Who’s with me?”

“I am!” Grey shouted at once.

“No you’re not,” Raeffe said quickly. “Put your hand down, you idiot.”

“I will go with you, lad,” Lyle said, smiling. “I know I only look like an old pile of bones, but I know the captain of the guards in the city. I can get us in.”

“And you will speak to him!” Stephen said. “Wonderful. You can convince him that the storm is real.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Lyle said sheepishly. “He thinks I’m a rogue...I might owe him some money.”

“At least you know him,” Stephen said. “I have never left my village. I don’t know anyone. But may I ask - why do you want to go?”

“Love,” Lyle answered.

“Love?” Grey asked, aghast. “What has love got to do with anything?”

“Everything,” Lyle answered, a silly grin on his face. “Love is anything and everything.”

Now even Raeffe looked disgusted. “Stop it,” he muttered. “You’re making me ill.”

“I love a girl in the last free city,” Lyle said. “Her father would rather be pickled in brine and fed to giant squid than let us get married, but I still have a duty to protect her.” He paused and smiled again with that same, giddy smile. “She’s such a wonderful girl.”

“Girl?” Raeffe asked incredulously. “How old is she? Eighteen? Disgusting.”

“Because you’re like one hundred years old,” Grey reminded Lyle. “I’m just saying, maybe that’s why her father would rather be squid-meat. Or whatever you said.”

“He has good reasons,” Lyle admitted, “to forbid the match. But I’d do anything for her. So I’m with you, Stephen, if you mean to see through this quest. We should go at once to the Iron City, slip past the siege, and warn the people there. If they know what is happening, they might muster the willpower to break the siege. You can count on me, anyway!”

“And me!” Grey exclaimed triumphantly, bumping a closed fist against his chest in a warrior’s salute. “The d’Piers family never backs down from a challenge. Right, Raeffe? Right? Raeffe?”

He had to ask the question twice because Raffe didn't respond. He was still lingering by the door with his arms crossed. The light of the lantern casted deep shadows on his face, and his dark eyes glittered.

“I am riding to the Ladies of March,” he declared. “I don’t know what you all are talking about - breaking sieges, getting involved in the Dark Wold, and warning people who are mostly peasants and don’t make much of a difference anyway! I am taking Lander and, as soon as this storm clears up, we are riding east.”

“Oh come on, Raeffe!” Grey cried, his voice rising a bit before cracking. He cleared his throat and went on in a falsely low tone: “Brother. We should go with Stephen. He knows what he’s doing anyway, we won’t last a day on the eastern road. We were almost kidnapped almost - what? An hour ago?”

“We were never going to be kidnapped,” Raeffe groaned. “I had it all under control.”

“But Raeffe - ”

“I said no!” Raeffe thundered. “And I am the older brother, so you are going to listen to me!”

“But...but…” Grey looked up mournfully at Stephen. “I already gave him my word. And a knight’s word is stronger than diamonds. Father always said that.”

“You’re not a knight, and father wasn’t much of a sage,” Raeffe replied curtly. “If you want to stay with him, fine. It’s clear you prefer Stephen’s company to mine - and the company of our aunt, our blood kin. Suit yourself! I wash my hands of you.”

“But...but…” Grey began again, causing his brother to click his tongue in scorn.

After making this sound, Raeffe let an uneasy pause settle on the group before he took the last word: “I suppose someone has to be the man who does what is truly necessary. The nobles are the only ones who can actually do anything about this. So go on your little quest, but I am taking Lander and we are going east.”

And with that, Raeffe left the baths in a huff. He did not turn around when Grey started calling after him.

Stephen thought, as soon as Raeffe stepped out of the baths and into the frigid rain, the young noble would come running back. But Raeffe kept walking, united Lander from the thatched lean-to Lyle used a stable, and mounted the horse before Stephen could call out after him. By the time Stephen realized that Raeffe was really going, he could only call out a lame:

“Good luck, then, you idiot! I won’t be there to save you this time!”

Raeffe’s only reply was to kick Lander into a gallop, before ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Lyle murmured.

“You know what? I hope he does,” Stephen muttered, after checking to make sure Grey could not hear him. “I hope he dies a terrible death. Serves him right for being - and I mean this - the worst person I have ever met.”

“Well, you might think better of him in a few days,” Lyle admitted. “Because, if we’re really to meet the Knights of Oblivion, your benchmark for evil is about to sink in a rather dramatic fashion.”