Spellhollow Wood by Joe Scotti - HTML preview

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Chapter 11

Spellhollow

 

Marie snapped awake as a hand gently nudged her shoulder. She struggled to see through bleary eyes, until a familiar voice set her at ease.

 “It’s five in the morning,” whispered Courinn. “We have just an hour before ‘The Dlucket’ will be after us. We’ll have to be a good ways from here by then.”

Marie accepted that what she saw last night from the balcony was simply part of the strange and frightening dreams she had, especially since she did not recall going back to bed. This was confirmed for her when neither Perion nor Courinn made any mention of seeing or hearing anything.

 Corporal Delk’s servants had prepared a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage, croissants, butter and huckleberry jam. They ate quickly before casting on light packs given to them, holding more food and water plus several other light essentials. At five twenty-four and thirty-eight seconds— as so informed by the corporal— they stood outside the mansion with him. From here, inexplicably, the structure was in burnt ruins. The palest shade of light appeared along the wooded horizon far off behind them, a harbinger of the new day. Otherwise, it was still dark and the stars shone lucidly.

Corporal Delk removed his cap and bowed before his guests. “It was a pleasure having you with us here at the Giggleswick Estate. You are welcome back at any time, but please remember: between sunset and sunrise only or the Dlucket will be waiting!”

He turned to Courinn and added with an amusing smile, “Perhaps, when we meet next, I might see you as you really are.”

Marie grinned, realizing the corporal didn’t miss much. Courinn’s eyes brightened as she nodded in return, before drawing an inquisitive breath.

 “Pardon me Corporal,” she said, “a last nagging question, if I may?”

“Of course.”

“Are you and Dlucket the same people? If not, did you serve in the war together?”

The corporal chuckled. “Yes we did, and we are quite different. He is my twin brother, so I had the nauseating misfortune of growing up with him. Imagine that, if you will.”

Marie grimaced at the thought. Perion stood up from organizing his pack. “Until next time, Corporal Delk,” he said, “our sincere thanks.” The corporal courteously nodded.

Marie graciously offered her hand to him. “Whatever is ahead for us,” she affirmed, “you have been a friend I will never forget.”

Corporal Delk warmly received her handclasp. “Good fortune to you, young Marie.” He pulled out his pocket watch a last time. “Now you must be off at once.”

 The three of them followed two servants, who briskly guided them along a westward path, away from the rising sun. Their guides, however, only went as far as the corporal commanded. At sunup, they themselves would become Dlucket’s soldiers, instantly recapturing Marie and her friends.

After a few minutes, the two guides waved the three companions on alone. “We have brought you along the edges of the shifting tracts,” they said. “If you continue southwest from here, you will avoid being lost within this region’s witchery.” Then they turned back and quickly disappeared.

Perion looked up into the quickly fading night sky. He turned to his friends as he situated his pack. “We’ll have to make a quick march. From here, I should guess it’s a five-mile stretch to the eastern banks of Lake Gwindylo.”

A distant cry was suddenly heard, followed by an ascending rumble. Through the outlying woods ahead, a wildly driven, horse-drawn covered wagon sprung into view, chased by two swift riders. Even from their distance, Marie could tell the pursuing horsemen were war-clad Native Americans. It was like a scene from an old western movie. They vanished into the trees just as quickly.

The three companions stood watching in silence, until Marie cleared her throat. “Uh—what year did Dlucket say it was?”

 “We must stay sharp,” admitted Perion. “We’ll soon be entering the Spellhollow Pass, where lie the roots of the woods’ most beguiling enchantments.”

“You mean, we’re going into the real haunted forest,” said Marie.

 “Perhaps,” answered Perion, “but this part of the wood is bewitched with not only wicked things, but also that which is good and pure and very beautiful.”

On he led them at a good pace, which Marie found she could just manage— as if Perion sensed her fatigue threshold and kept her moving along on the edge of that limit.

 The daylight rose with what Marie noted was like a fanciful, emerald overcast. At moments, it appeared almost luminous. Within this strange light, Marie could easily discern the new region they had entered. Everything was soon covered in thick moss, some of it brown, some grayish, but mostly lush and emerald green. Lengthy trails of dewy lichen hung from the branches everywhere. The woods felt older, old beyond guessing, fuller and larger. The trees became great scarlet and chestnut oaks with thick, rippling roots and enormous wide trunks. Mixed among these were many white and mountain ash trees as well as dotted hawthorns. Ever reaching fingers of ivory savaged the rock formations strewn about. Marie gazed up into an endless sweep of tangled and intertwined branches. At times, the tree roots were so thick and gnarled they had to climb over or around them, which was difficult and time consuming. Marie eerily wondered what might be lingering under the wildly spread, leafy ferns and underbrush as her feet disappeared with each step.

She noticed black squirrels within the trees peering down at them. They had distended yellow eyes, which seemed to darken with anger as if her trespass here were forbidden. A host of behemoth butterflies and dragonflies, larger than both of Marie’s hands flew by, each with a myriad of colors pulsating in its wings. The two startling things about them: they flew together in perfect formation as birds often do in migration, and they whisked past, with the song of a soothing lullaby. There were periodic drizzles of very light rain, but to Marie’s excitement, the drops were of shimmering gold. She could not help stopping to stand with both her hands outstretched, letting the rain beads glisten into her palms, before they faded into water droplets.

At length, they heard a banging noise in the distance. They soon saw a short, squat figure swinging a hefty stone hammer into a chisel. He stood upon a set of stairs carved into a mammoth, ivy-strewn boulder, which he seemed to be either sculpting or repairing. As they passed, he turned to face them. He was clad in filthy rags with worn boots. He had a long, unkempt beard and leathery skin. Perion raised a hand to offer a greeting, but the dwarf-mason dourly stared back, making no gesture.

“How rude,” said Marie.

“Dwarves are sometimes a mumpish lot,” said Perion.

“Leave him be,” said Courinn. “His name is Linsrook. He lost his only brother, as the professor explained, to the trollogre.”

“The same dwarf who melted down the gold of Gwylligwitch’s?” asked Marie.

Courinn nodded. Marie looked back to Linsrook. He stared at them suspiciously as they went by, until he gruffly turned away and went back to work.

 By mid-morning, the emerald green all about them suddenly ceased and quickly changed color. The tree trunks resembled oak, but were either of ivory white or charred black. Their buds and leaves were all deep ruby red, with no comparison to the color mortals see at the peak of each autumn. This foliage glistened with a saturation that, as Marie often explained afterwards concerning what she came to experience, could not be described. Adding to this spectacle were the fallen leaves, which had lost none of their luster. Both above and below were covered in a scarlet wonderland. Some leaves wafted down as others fluttered upon a mild breeze that smelled like honey. It was the essence of a fairytale woodland setting. Perion deeply inhaled and exhaled with pleasure.

 “What is this place?” asked Marie, almost in a whisper.

“The Scarlet Arches,” said Perion, “of which we are merely at the narrowest, southernmost tip. This is one of the closest reminders of home within the wood. How I relish each time I stand here.”

 “If this is what home is,” declared Marie, “I wanna’ visit! What kind of trees are they?”

“This grove has been sown from the Cyprias Forest,” said Courinn dreamily, as if she too suffered homesickness.

Marie watched as Perion approached a tree, gently touching its smooth, pure white bark, before sadly leaning his head against it. In that moment, Marie thought she understood some of the loneliness Perion and perhaps Courinn too suffered each day.

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Marie soon saw Perion was right; they were at a very narrow end of the red wood. Within fifteen minutes they were back among the emerald green and Marie was sorry to have so soon left the Scarlet Arches. Perion pushed them onward still further and after three hours’ hike, they briefly halted and had a quick drink from their packs.

When they continued on, Perion slowed their pace somewhat, feeling they were far enough now from any threat of Dlucket. Just as Marie started feeling hunger pangs, Perion abruptly halted and spun around. He listened closely to the wood.

 “What is it?” asked Courinn.

“Many feet, running fast.”

“Dlucket?” gasped Marie in alarm.

“No,” answered Perion, still listening. “They’re not two legged. But they flee in fear.”

 A minute later, Courinn and Marie could hear it: the crashing and trampling over brush and fallen branches. It was a company of woodland deer, coming at them. The bucks were of pure white, and the does, shiny silver. They burst through the trees a stone toss from where Marie stood.

 “They’ve been frightened about something!” shouted Courinn above the clamor.

“Let’s find out!” yelled Perion. Courinn nodded in understanding.

The delicate beauty of the deer transfixed Marie as they ran past into the woods ahead. These hart were larger than normal with stronger limbs. The bucks’ feral horns were of elaborate design. The desire surged within Marie to touch these dignified creatures. About to take a step forward, she stopped short.

The unicorn shape of Courinn reared high up in the midst of the charging deer as they split and raced by. Yet several, Marie saw excitedly, halted in their flight, trotting and circling around the unicorn, looking like she called out to them. Perion held out his hands toward a silver doe. It turned away from the rushing pack and approached.

 As the last of the hart disappeared, two remained, nuzzling with Courinn; the deer felt at ease near the commanding unicorn. Marie knew she was somehow speaking with them along with Perion, who gently massaged the doe’s shoulders. Watching her friends, Marie quickly noticed their faces became concerned, even grave.

 Courinn gave a last nuzzle to the deer, thanking them, before they turned and ran off. Then she saw Perion look up at Marie, smile and gently wave her over.

 Marie tried her best to remain calm. Perion slowly took her hand and brought it up to the doe’s neck, where she was able to rub and pet the lovely animal. The silver fur was straight, soft, and cool, in spite of the doe’s vigorous dash. Marie continued, bringing her hands up to the deer’s’ cheek, where it nuzzled her in affection. Marie was thrilled.

 “How beautiful they are,” she said, caressing the doe several moments longer.

“Yes,” said Perion, “but we’ll have to let our friend catch up to her own.”

Marie kissed the doe on its nose, which it let her do, such was its trust in Perion. With a sweep of his arm, the doe scampered off.

 “Thank you, Perion, but what did you find out?” asked Marie. “From the look in your eyes, it’s not good.”

“No, it’s not,” said Courinn, walking up, again in human form. “I assume you’re thinking the same as I. We follow the deer right away.”

“Yes,” he answered, without hesitation.

 “What is it?” asked Marie.

“The deer were running from something they would not name,” said Courinn. “Something horrifying.”

 “With a foul odor,” added Perion. “Something that ferociously lusts for gold. I don’t know how far back it is, but she’s coming this way.”