Through the Dark Wood Read online

  Zam leaned in, awed by Graffeon's tone. “What is it?”

  “A book….” The messenger smiled, aware Zam sought a more precise answer, “A book of poems and proverbs.”

  Disbelieving, Zam repeated, “Poems and proverbs?”

  Graffeon patted the book. “And a few stories. But that is exactly my point! You seem surprised that this would be such a treasure to me. But I do adore this book.”

  The quizzical feelings Zam had earlier were growing again.

  Graffeon continued. “To a rich man your sheep would not be worth his notice unless for their wool or for a meal, but you hold those sheep in high regard. You would risk injury, even death to protect just one of them if the need arose.” He was speaking straight to Zam’s heart again.

  How can he see these things in me?

  “Though you were afraid today, Zam, I know you would have gladly done battle with the creatures that tried to claim the life of your lost sheep... if you could have seen them.”

  At that Zam’s bewilderment reached its peak and he had to ask the question that had been growing in his mind. “Are you a wizard? You look nothing like what I hear wizards look like, but the things you’ve said… the things you know… how? How do you know…? Are you a wizard?”

  “No.” Graffeon said simply.

  “Are you a sorcerer?”

  “No.”

  “A fortune teller?”

  “Not that either.”

  “A prophet? A seer? Something?”

  Graffeon responded with his head slightly cocked, and a smile, almost sly but jovial, curling the sides of his mouth. “Something more like that. Yes.”

  Defeated, Zam asked, “Who are you?”

  This was the moment Graffeon had been waiting for. He stood and bowed. It was the first time Zam had seen him stand inside the shack. His frame suddenly filled the room and he seemed too large a being to fit in such a small space. As he spoke, fear coursed through Zam, though the tone he used was pleasant.

  “I am the messenger Graffeon and I have traveled farther than you can possibly know to deliver a message from my master, Elyon. Deliver it to one Zamuel Windwater.” He gave Zam a wry smile and a knowing look as he sat back down and his presence diminished to the point it had been before. “I believe he lives around here.”

  “Me?” Zam was more perplexed than ever and a little frightened. “I don’t know any Elyon, nor do I know anyone in… in Tarnanis. I'm confused, and think you must be wrong, or this is some horrible joke. And I do not appreciate–”

  “Worth… as I began to say, is not measured by great successes or the monetary value of a thing.” He paused and looked deeply into Zam’s eyes. “And this is not a horrible joke. My message for you from Elyon starts with this. You are valuable, Zam... you are worth something.”

  Zam softened, his brow furrowing in an expression of confusion, bewilderment, perplexity.

  “It's in your heart to travel and experience adventure. I am pleased to be the one to tell you, you will do both.” He produced a small scroll from his cloak and offered it to Zam. “This is for you.”

  The scroll was barely as large as his hand. Zam unrolled it:

  Travel north, young one. The beasts from your vision approach your borders. They wish for you to fear. Do not fear. Leave tomorrow when the sun is above the old maple. No later. I will see to the care of your sheep. Take Graffeon’s book and the staff he carries. You will hear from me.

  Elyon

  Zam could hardly think. Did it actually say take Graffeon's book? His most treasured possession? He stared at the small scroll a moment longer, trying to make sense of it. Something about it filled him inside… it felt true. How does this Elyon, or Graffeon for that matter, know about the vision?

  Zam looked up at Graffeon and the chair was empty. He was gone. It had taken only a moment to read and contemplate the scroll. Although, it seemed it would take more contemplation to grasp how exactly it was he now sat alone. Zam looked about the shack. It had been his only home for many years. It still felt more inviting than usual, but not so much like home. The peaceful air that filled the place now felt more like the calm before a storm.

  He puzzled at all that had transpired. He noted the staff propped in the corner near the door. Graffeon’s staff. The worn old book still lay upon the table. Graffeon’s book. In a daze he opened it and read from the first page:

  On this date, (The date was the day of Zam’s birth. Though, he did not realize.)

  By the request of Elyon, I dedicate this book and all its contents to Zamuel Windwater, the only surviving member of his father’s line. May he always choose right over wrong, light over dark. May this book help guide him, and may he always know his worth.

  Today I’ve hewn a branch from the second tree in Elyon’s garden. It shall be a staff for Zam to use in his journeys. May it never break, and may it serve him always as I serve Elyon.

  Royal Recorder and Messenger - Graffeon

  Time passed slowly for a while. Zam’s world had changed in a moment. The door to the shack had not opened. Had Graffeon stood to leave, Zam would have seen. The scroll, the message in the book, the ink on both was old and weather worn.

  Zam tried to make sense of it, but trying only set his thoughts spinning. He decided sleep was required before he could attempt to sort it all out. Lying upon his cushions, he read through a few pages of Graffeon’s book—or rather his book—and drifted off to sleep.

  His dreams were the most pleasant he’d had in years; filled with far-off lands, mysterious creatures and, of course, adventure.

  Dathan, the golden haired son of Zam’s master—and would-be brother had life turned out differently—shook Zam awake. It was startling. Zam hadn't seen Dathan in years except as he passed by, riding off with his father, presumably to distant places. Dathan had been crying.

  “Zam… I’m sorry.”

  Zam blinked, shook his head, and wiped sleep from his eyes all in an attempt to determine whether this was yet another dream. Experiencing the now-familiar feeling of perplexity, he realized he was awake. “Sorry for what, Dathan?” Innumerable sorrows rushed to his heart as he spoke his could-be brother's name.

  “I know my being here must cause you pain, but... I had a dream last night.”

  Zam simply stared at him, trying to make sense of the visit.

  “In the dream I was a little boy, Zam. I was you, when you were little... alone in this shack. My father...” he sighed. “Rather my master, had left me here, content that he had a son of his own… and he didn’t need me anymore. No. Worse. He did not want me anymore. I was no longer a son. I was a servant.”

  The story was familiar to Zam and brought up painful memories. He marveled at Dathan having such a dream.

  Weak from emotion, Dathan sat at the table, nearly crying as he spoke. “Zam, the dream was so real I can still feel it. I saw me... through your eyes. The could-be brother riding away with Father, smug that I was the important one.” Dathan looked up at Zam, tears welling in his eyes. “Then alone in the shack I felt the years pass. I felt the pain of loneliness, and somehow moved beyond it. I found some way to accept my life and not…” his breath started shuddering. “And not hate my could-be brother and father. I heard of my master-brother’s accomplishments and–” This time Dathan did begin to cry. “And I felt proud of him. You were proud of me?”

  Zam’s eyes began to tear as he looked at his could-have-been little brother and nodded.

  Dathan wiped at his tears. “But I am appalled at me, Zam.”

  “You knew no better, Dathan.”

  He wouldn’t hear it. “No, Zam. When I woke... I knew that somehow everything I dreamed was real, that you felt all of those things. And here I’ve sat snugly in my world, not caring an ounce for you.” His voice broke for the sadness. “And all the while you cared for me. That my father and I put you through that… I cried to know it.” He scoffed at himself. “I still cry to know it! I hate it! I know I can never make it up to you,
Zam, but I must try.”

  “Dathan, you behaved as you were taught to. There is nothing you need to make up to me. The simple fact of your coming here–”

  Dathan’s face turned grim. “No, Zam, I must make it up to you.” He stood and motioned as if to the whole countryside. “There is danger here for you.”

  Zam startled at that. “What?”

  “Before the dream ended, I was watching over the flock. A lamb went missing. I searched for it, and horrible creatures came. I believed they would devour the lamb and there was nothing I could do, but I realized only too late they were there for me... for you. They seized violently upon me and I awoke in tears, my heart pounding. I knew then that I had to come to you, to take your place tending the sheep. I know in my heart that I will be safe, but if I don’t let you go, Zam, your life is in danger.”

  Zam didn't know what to think. The dream was a stunningly accurate flash of his life from childhood to yesterday.

  “In my dream, Zam, when the creatures had nearly reached me, a kingly voice filled my hearing and said, ‘See? The sun has passed the old maple.’”

  Recognition passed over Zam’s face and Dathan saw it. “That means something to you, doesn’t it? You know my fear is justified, Zam. You must go... to save your life. Leave. Do what you must.”

  Zam stood up, unsure of his next move. “What do I do, Dathan? How do I go? I am only a servant. I move at the will of my master.” He sighed.

  Dathan smiled for the first time since Zam awoke. “No more, Zam. You are free. I left a letter for father telling him where I would be, that I had freed you from your service, and that I was giving you money for your journeys.” He chuckled. “He may be angry with me.” Emotion caught in his throat again. “But it’s truly the least I could do.”

  Zam was dumbstruck. His whole life he had longed for a single kindness from his could-be brother, and here Dathan stood offering more than kindness: freedom.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Dathan placed his hand firmly upon his older—yet less worldly wise—brother’s shoulder. “Then simply say… if ever you return to these parts, you have no master. You have a brother.”

  They stood before each other, both with tear-streaked faces, Zam smiling and fighting back an absolute flood. He nodded.

  Dathan said sincerely, “I would have liked to have known you, Zam. Please forgive me for the past.”

  It was a moment from Zam’s dreams, woven through with irony. I have a brother... but now I must leave. He clasped hands with Dathan. “I do forgive you, Dathan. Thank you.”

  Dathan gratefully bowed his head to Zam, then said in earnest. “Now, Zam, whatever it meant the sun will have passed the old maple soon. You must hurry.” He pulled a coin purse from his belt and held it out. “Take this, gather your things, and be safely on your way.”

  Zam fought overwhelming emotion as he took the purse, fastening it to his belt, and grabbed Graffeon’s book—my book. He donned his cloak, and took Graffeon’s staff—my staff.

  For the first time ever, his brother embraced him.

  “Fare you well, Brother.”

  Holding tightly, Zam replied, “And you... Brother. Thank you.”

  At that, Dathan simply smiled, and Zam set out north.

  It was a glorious spring day. The wind moved through the trees like a whisper, barely audible. Long grasses lolled to and fro, and birds sang sweeter songs than any Zam could recall.

  Dathan stood atop the hill near the shack, watching over the sheep, watching and waiting for the moment his father would ride up and chastise him for making “so foolish a choice.” It wouldn’t be long now. But he had done the right thing. Of that he was sure.

  He breathed in the morning air and looked to the west. A dark cloud appeared, coming his way faster than the breeze and against the wind. As it approached, he saw it for what it was: a cloud of eerie green fireflies out in the daylight. They hovered a few feet above him, and his skin crawled. He had the unpleasant suspicion that these were somehow part of Zam's danger. They remained a moment as if assessing him. A moment more and they frantically swarmed him.

  He closed his eyes tight and could not help but hold his breath. If he believed insects capable of emotion, he would have said rage fueled their swarming, for that’s what surrounded him. Rage. Loathing. Hatred. His mind flooded with images of the beasts from his dream. Then, as suddenly as they came, they shot away west.

  Dathan opened his eyes and breathed again, his heart racing. He looked about, and the sky was clear. Though he couldn't understand what had happened, he knew the danger had passed. He was safe, and so was Zam… for now.

  As Zam approached the stone that marked the northern border, he surveyed the hills and fields he’d called home for so long. Beyond lay a large wood into which he had never stepped foot. Well... here I am.

  His heart beat with the thrill of the unknown. He took a deep breath and stepped beyond the marker, beaming. The wide world stood before him. He glanced back to his former home. It was no longer home. A small dark cloud seemed to hover over the hilltop, shifting and moving. He blinked to clear his eyes, and it was gone.

  The sun hung directly above the old maple. He’d left just in time—for what, he did not know. But his adventure had begun. He thought of Graffeon's words. It's in your heart to travel and experience adventure... you will do both.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to the air, and took another step north.

  CHAPTER TWO: THE RIVER’S EDGE

  Zam continued north for many days, first through light and airy woods, then through forest that began to tangle and close in, all while traveling jutting, rocky hills that were pocked here and there with boulders. He grew weary. There had been no signs of villages or people, he'd seen no animals or creatures of note, and he'd found nothing to hunt. Frankly, nothing had brought interest to his monotonous march. Beyond that, the weather had turned for the worse, letting loose great sheets of water from the sky. Zam was now soaked to the bone and feeling impatient. This isn't adventure! He grumbled, “This is nothing but a blind march through inhospitable lands at the word of some... some...” He didn't have a word. “What was he even?”

  He stopped his march through the rain and gave that a bit of thought. A moment later he threw his hands up and sighed. “A man who vanished into thin air.” The words reminded him how miraculous the event had been, and that softened him. “And… a man who knew things about me that no one could know... how I feel inside.”

  The truth was, in a very brief encounter, Graffeon had profoundly moved him. Not since his childhood visit to Sandrey had his heart connected so instantly with an individual. He’d spent a very short time with the messenger, but now the name Graffeon would be forever written on his heart.

  Zam's spirit brightened at the thought and he determined to press on no matter how rough the travel. Around midday the clouds broke and the first glimpse of sunlight came piercing through, lighting a clearing as he passed. The breeze was cool, but the sun slowly warmed his face and hands, further improving his mood.

  He sat on a round, flat boulder in the middle of the clearing and bathed in sunlight. “I’d wager many have found this a pleasant enough place to rest when traveling this way.”

  “I’d wager not,” a voice said from behind him.

  He spun around, startled. Thick trees lined the edge of the clearing with gnarled brush peppered here and there about their feet. An unpleasant feeling crept its way up his spine. He shouted with what he hoped was a menacing tone, “Who’s there!”

  He was greeted with wind through leaves and nothing more. He pulled out the small knife he kept strapped to his side. It was more for preparing meals than protection, but it was all he had at the moment. The silence continued and he began to doubt what he had heard. After a long while he lowered his guard and sat upon the stone. A while after that he dismissed it altogether. “Don’t be so jumpy, Zam.”

  Still uneasy, he set to eating. Just beyond the clea
ring a pair of invisible eyes watched him. Planning. Malevolence growing. Enjoying his fear. Waiting for the perfect moment.

  Zam put the knife away, pulled some provisions out of his satchel, and opened his book once again. Thumbing through the pages, he read the headings aloud.

  “Days? No. Un-careful?” He chuckled at that. “No again. Rest? Safety? Safety… I could use a little of that.” Something about the clearing left him with an eerie feeling. He began to read aloud.

  “The truth it seems is unmistakable.”

  The waiting eyes narrowed.

  “But how it seems it may not be.”

  The creature crouched low.

  “Though much may lay upon the table,

  beware of all you may not see.”

  It slithered close behind.

  “If you desire to keep your safety,

  find out what’s held beneath the table.”

  A murky black vision began to congeal behind him.

  “Plots and death hid there may be,

  but that is such you cannot see, without me.”

  Fully visible in its coal black, serpentine form, the creature bared its razor teeth.

  “I can see what’s above and beneath the table,

  I am able. ~ Elyon”

  The creature lunged and struck—nothing. It squinted and looked around the clearing. Its prey was gone and night had fallen. The creature was dumbfounded, wondering how its prey had escaped.

  Zam had finished the poem and mostly, but not entirely, said to himself, “I’d like that kind of safety, Elyon.”

  If one could have looked from the outside, one would have seen the creature as it lunged for Zam and stopped halfway to its mark, remaining there; all the rage in the world on its face, and an evil glee in its eye at the impending fate of the boy before it. But Zam just turned the page and chomped down on dried meat. The creature remained poised to destroy him—invisible and unmoving.