Ch. 7: Inception On Steriods

Back to Arheled

'''                                        Chapter   Seven '''

'''                                         Level   in   Level '''





             The   craziest   landscape   he   had   ever   seen   rose   about   him. If   you   could   call   it   a   landscape. After   he   had   gazed   for   a   while   he   made   out   city   buildings   and houses,   jutting   all   different   angles   from   a   jumbled   tossing   of   stone   crags,   as   if   the   earth   underneath   a   city   had   erupted   and   risen   in   revolution   until   it   turned   town   into   mountain   range,   swallowing   houses   and   leaving   buildings   in   the   weirdest   places. The   stone   was   a   delicious,   smooth   pink,   like   the   inside   of   a   shell,   and   plants   and   mosses   and   scattered   trees   splashed   the   jumbled   crags   with   a   vibrant,   almost   luminous   green. The   sky   overhead   was   pale   blue,   streaked   with   clouds   of   diving   fire,   burning   yellow   and   orange   and   deep   red   like   the   best   sunset   imaginable.

             “An   interesting   place   you   have   here,   I   must   say.”   Arheled   remarked. He   stood   with   folded   arms   next   to   Forest,   the   white   cloak   lifting   in   the   faint   wind.

             “I’ve   never   been   here.”   said   Forest.

             Arheled   gave   him   a   humerous   stare. “A   strange   thing   for   you   to   say,   in   this   place,”   he   said,   “but   it   is   seldom   one   can   recognize   a   thing   that   never   comes   out   before   the   conscious   eyes,   to   be   there   studied   and   puzzled   at   like   anything   else.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Have   I   seen   this   in   my   dreams? Am   I   dreaming   now?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “No,   Forest,   at   the   moment   you   are   wide   awake.”   said   Arheled. “So   am   I   (but   indeed,   such   sleep   as   I   take   you   would   never   recognise   as   such,   and   think   me   still   wakeful   when   in   needed   rest   I   was   wandering   distantly). But   you   do   know   this   place;   you   know   it   very   well,   for   you   are   inside   of   it   all    of   your   life.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Forest   didn’t   understand,   but   he   followed   Arheled   in   silence.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   were   meeting   people   now,   queer   people   in   antique   styles   of   clothing   reminiscent   of   seventeenth-century   Englishmen,   and   every   one   of   them   bore   a   sword. Great   brown   cloaks   swirled   about   them. The   paths   that   wound   over   the   colorful   mountains   were   narrow,   and   Arheled   and   Forest   had   to   stand   aside   to   let   them   pass. They   made   no   greeting,   only   glanced   sidelong   at   the   pair   and   kept   on   in   their   way.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Do   not   speak   to   them.”   said   Arheled. “If   they   realize   we   do   not   belong   here,   they   will   attack   us.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Who   are   they?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Ah,   Forest,   if   you   don’t   know   the   answer,   then   how   can   I   explain   it   to   you? It   is   enough   that   you   elude   their   notice.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Can   I   be   invisible   to   them?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That’s   a   laughable   thought. Can   the   sun   be   invisible   to   the   earth   it   illumines? We   must   make   sure   it   remains   a   cloudy   day.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Where   are   we   going?”   said   Forest   as   they   mounted   up   a   long   broken   ridge. The   pink   stone   was   overlaid   by   a   fine   close   turf   of   innumerable   tiny   green   flowers.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Arheled   pointed   to   a   huge   skyscraper   that   projected   at   a   50-degree   angle   from   the   side   of   a   jutting   crag. “The   levels   of   this   place   are   perilous,”   he   said,   “but   the   secret   we   hunt   is   locked   at   the   very   bottom. We   must   descend,   Forest.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What   are   we   looking   for?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “A   photo   album.”   answered   Arheled   enigmatically. “Or   a   casket. Or   a   vial. I   have   no   idea   what   it   will   look   like;   only   what   it   is.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Then   how   will   we   know   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Arheled   chuckled   grimly. “Oh,   that’s   easy. It’s   the   thing   most   closely   guarded.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   ascended   a   long   way   through   the   broken   but   beautiful   country. Short   pitch   pines   stooped   and   scrambled   about   the   shell-hued   rocks,   their   deep   green   needles   spangled   with   honey-brown   cones. Blueberry   bushes,   laden   with   cerulean   fruit   the   size   of   the   cones,   formed   the   understory. Here   and   there   they   passed   the   remains   of   some   toppled   house   or   half-swallowed   skyscraper   embedded   in   the   rock.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “This   place   was   once   an   urban   landscape,   full   of   offices   and   square,   plain,   metal   and   concrete   buildings   filled   with   glass,   a   landscape   in   every   way   dull,   modern   and   thoroughly   boring,   and   the   people   pouring   through   it   wore   modern   jeans   and   suits.”   said   Arheled. A   soldier   clanked   by   in   Spanish   plate   armour,   and   his   stare   was   so   long   and   suspicious   he   came   to   a   halt. Arheled   paid   him   no   heed,   and   he   moved   on.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What   happened   to   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   began   to   call.”   said   Arheled. “My   calls   convulsed   the   land   as   it   tried   to   absorb   them,   until   the   dreams   I   was   sending   upheaved   all   save   traces   of   that   normal   ugly   mindset   that   everyone   else   has;   everyone   else   looks   inside   like   a   city,   and   usually   the   seamier   parts   thereof. For   good   or   ill   this   land   is changed   forever.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Two   cloaked   brigands   whipped   out   swords   and   harquebuses,   but   Arheled lifted   one   hand   and   they   toppled   over   like   ninepins   and   lay   still.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Can   they   kill   us,   Arheled?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Nothing   can   ‘kill’   Arheled.”   he   answered. “You   see,   a   human’s   essence   is   himself   as   alive,   body   and   soul;   with   no   body,   his   essence   is   halved,   it   is   not   whole. I   am   not   like   that. I   do   not   ‘die’.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Are   you   an   angel?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “An   angel   is   a   spirit,   Forest,”   he   replied. “And   a   spirit   is   an   intellectual   substance,   devoid   of   matter. It   is   not   so   with   me. My   essence   is   commingled   with   matter,   but   not   as   your   body;   if   that   matter   is   wrecked,   my   essence   is   not   sundered. So,   no,   Arheled   cannot   be   killed. Only   destroyed.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   if   you’re   not   half   material   like   we   are…”    How   can   you   suffer   destruction?

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   mind   is   capable   of   being   broken,   Forest. Even   those   beings   who   are   entirely   mind can   so   be. Not   insane;   the   farther   above   the   human   the   mind   stands,   the   less   vulnerable   it   becomes,   for   insanity   is   partly   a   result   of   the   body. And   the   angelic-level   intelligences   are   too   powerful   to   warp   out   of   sanity,   even   if   they   fall. But   to   break,   to   drift,   sane   but   shattered,   without   volition   or   strength,   so   that   merely   to   exist   is   slow   torment;   that   is   what   happens   when   weaker   spirits   are   eaten   by   stronger. They   are   destroyed. And   to   such,   Forest,   is   Arheled   vulnerable.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   where   are   we?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Standing   on   the   lawn   of   Wintergreen   Island,   my   hand   on   your   eyes.”   said   Arheled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Forest   looked   all   around   them. “I’m   like   Brooke? A   ghost?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   reached   a   sort   of   level. Dark   against   the   bright   sky   in   front   rose   the   tilted   building. “How can   you   be   a   ghost,   when   you   are   inside   your   own   self?”   Arheled   said   to   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Forest   felt   a   sudden   great   stillness   fall   over   that   strange   country. The   distant   mantled   figures   that   were   passing   across   the   farther   slopes   all   halted,   and   as   one   they   slowly   turned   to   stare   up   at   Forest   and   Arheled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “We’re   inside   me?”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Your   mind,   yes. Inside   one   level   of   your   soul. We   hunt   what   the   Enemy   sealed   up   inside   you   so   long   ago.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   walked   faster   toward   the   diagonal   doorways   in   the   side   of   the   great   building. The   crags   around   seemed   to   crawl   with   charging   figures   of   running   men,   all   converging   on   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   how   do   we   get   there?”   panted   Forest   as   they   broke   into   a   run. Arrows   began   to   sail   like   bats   in   the   fiery   sky,   falling   short,   but   slowly   growing   closer. The   great   building,   half   swallowed   by   the   jutting   crag   they   were   on,   projected   far   out   over   the   canyons   beneath. The   doorway   was   at   an   angle   so   steep   they   stepped   over   the   side   instead   of   the   threshold.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   moment   they   did   so   gravity   shifted. The   building   was   upright   now. Outside   the   windows,   however,   the   ground   and   the   very   sky   were   tilted   and   slanting   downward. Forest   looked   quickly   around. Ivy   grew   over   the   rotting   skulls   of   computers   with   shattered   screens—computers   of   a   rather   obsolete   model,   Pentiums   with   big   monitors   and   glass   screens—and   dust   and   soil   caked   their   leaves,   fallen   from   the   floors   above. The   glass   had   long   since   broken   in   the   windows. Roots   dangled   from   the   ceiling.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Blue   fire   flashed   in   every   window. A   pounding   of   wordless   feet   grew   audible,   and   into   empty   windows   and   gaping   doors   a   host   of   rabble   climbed. Some   looked   like   peasant   farmers,   some   like   soldiers   in   chain   mail   or   plate   armour;   others   wore   the   tunics   of   prosperous   merchants,   rich   and   intricate. And   from   every   hand   extended   blades   of   blue   fire.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Down!”   barked   Arheled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   ancient   floor   broke under   their   feet. So   did   the   floors   below   it. Then   there   were   no   floors,   only   a   shaft   cut   straight   down   into   living   rock,   and   they   all   fell   unimpeded,   bits   of   cement   and   wet   rotten   wood   floating   lazily   in   the   air   around   them,   falling   at   the   same   speed   as   they. As   he   spun   with   his   fall,   Forest   caught   glimpses   of   their   foes,   diving   head   foremost   down   above   them,   swords   of   blue   fire   held   before   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Abruptly   he   was   no   longer   falling. Arheled   had   seized   a   projecting   iron   bar   with   one   hand   and   Forest   with   the   other,   pressing   flat   against   the   side. There   was   no   tremendous   jolt   as   there   should   have   been. The   medieval   skydivers   gave   a   howl   of   rage   as   they   fell   impotently   by,   and   plunged   on   into   the   depths.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   will   take   them   some   time   to   stop,   and   more   time   to   climb   up   to   here.”   said Arheled. “Of   course,   time   is   funny   down   here. Hours   of   action   can   be   packed   into   ten   minutes   of   dreaming,   or   an   adventure   half   an   hour   long   takes   half   the night   to   play   out.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             He   launched   himself   across   the   shaft   at   a   yawning   hole   on   that   side,   landing   with   incredible   ease,   considering   his   burden. Forest   wobbled   when   he   stood.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “If   this   is   my   own   mind,”   he   said,   “why   is   it   trying   to   kill   us?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “This   is   the   part   of   your   mind   you   never   look   into,   any   more   than   you   can   see   through   the   back   of   your   own   head.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   if   it   is   me,   I   should   control   them.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Arheled   hurried   down   the   round   tunnel,   pulling   Forest   with   him. “Can   you   control   your   dreams? Can   you   steer   your   own   passage   through   the   worlds   your   mind   is   weaving,   or   command   the   shapes   of   people   that   walk   within   those   dreams? Or   are   you   tossed   helplessly,   acting   your   role   in   whatever   stage   it   made   for   you,   often   not   even   remembering   that   you   are   only   in   a   dream?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   raced   through   a   honeycomb   of   crossing   twisting   tunnels,   Arheled   giving   a   dim   blue   light   that   made   them   eerily   like   the   caves   of   Torech   Ungol. There   was   no   dripstone,   although   the   walls   gleamed   with   damp. “The   ones   chasing   us   are   no   more   subject   to   your   will   than   are   the   dreams   from   which   they   spring. They   are   how   your   undermind   sees   the   people   it   has   met,   and   the   countless   faces   it   has   seen:   you   can   only   flee   or   fight   them,   for   they   will   only   fight   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   were   going   down   now,   always   down. Arheled   seemed   to   know   exactly   where   to   go,   but   Forest   was   hopelessly   lost. He   saw   formless   glimpses   in   the   dim   shadows   of   the   intersecting   rooms,   glimpses   of   shapes   both   unrecognizable   and   terrifying;   and   the   shapes   saw   them. Beyond   the   glow   of   Arheled   Forest   began   to   see   queer   gleams   of   evil   brilliance,   and   pale   spots   like   eyes,   and   from   behind   them   came   a   sound   as   of   a   thousand   crawling   hunters.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What   happens   if   I’m   killed?”   he   called.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   wake   up.”   said   Arheled. “And   then   we   have   to   do   this   all   over   again. It   would   be   much   less   easy. Your   mind   is   aware   of   intruders   now,   and   all   the   phantoms   and   terrors,   perceptions   and   conceptions,   dreams   and   nightmares,   that   populate   your   overmind   and   undermind,   will   attack.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Abruptly   they   came   to   what   looked   like   a   door,   except   it   was   set   into   the   floor   like   a   trap. Arheled   turned   and   sent   a   blinding   blue   light   behind   them;   all   sorts   of   squeals   and   screeches   followed. Then   reaching   down   he   turned   the   knob. The   door   fell   upward   as   if   swinging   open,   and   white   daylight   poured   in. Forest   and   Arheled   stepped   forward,   Forest   half   expecting   a   fall. Instead   he   swung   in   a   half   circle   downward,   to   stumble   forward   onto   thick   grass. Behind   him   the   door   was   now   upright,   and   pulling   it   shut   Arheled   locked   it   with   a   silver   key   from   his   pocket.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   stood   upon   the   floor   of   a   weird   and   beautiful   forest,   somehow   greener   and   more   vivid   than   forests   in   the   real   world   could   ever   be. Laurel   grew   in   blooming   clusters   of   white   edged   with   pink   among   darkest   green,   out   of   beds   of   new-green   fern   that   seemed   luminous,   it   was   so   green. Short   young   hemlock   the   hue   of   dark   emerald   fringed   the   laurel   gardens,   as   they   seemed,   too   beautiful   to   have   grown   randomly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Where   are   the   buildings?”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Your   imagination   was   too   powerful   for   them.”   Arheled   replied. “The   dull   cities   the   teachers   and   parents   built   in   it,   crumbled   and   fell   when   I   began   to   send   the   dreams,   and   you   planted   it   anew   in   a   world   they   cannot   conquer.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   marched   through   the   forest   for   some   time. It   shifted   and   changed   every   other   step,   as   it   seemed,   as   if   they   were   crossing   dimensionally   hidden   woods   within   woods,   constantly   changing   topography   and   flora   One   moment   they   stood   in   a   wood   of   graceful   gray   beech,   glowing   green   in   sunlight   of   early   gold. A   step   forward   and   they   were   pacing   across   a   glade   of   huge   low-limbed   red   maples,   speckling   the   ground   with   fire   from   scarlet   leaves. Another   step   and   they   were   in   a   noon   forest   of   oak   and   low   blueberry   and   deep   moss. And   so   it   went,   till   Forest   was   first   dazzled   and   then   numbed. One   thing   the   varied   woods   all   had   in common,   however:   they   were   Northern   woods,   Northern   landscapes,   all   from   New   England:   there   was   no   jungle   terrain   or   tropical   luxuriance,   nor   anything   from   the   other   lands   of   the   US.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Your   imagination   is   populated   with   what   it   knows.”   said   Arheled   as   they   walked   into   a   gloomy   swamp   very   like   the   one   he   had   named   Featherlock. “You   are   Forest,   but   only   the   forests   of   the   North,   where   the   Road   returns.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Those—people.”   said   Forest. “Where   are   they?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Oh,   we   don’t   have   to   worry   about   people   here.”   said   Arheled   wryly. “If   only. No,   the   protections   of   this   place   are   far   more   difficult.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             They   entered   a   snowy   hemlock   wood,   and   Forest,   though   he   had   expected   to   start   shivering,   didn’t   feel   the   cold   at   all. Arheled   was   looking   sharply   about,   as   if   seeing   road   signs   invisible   to   Forest. Then   he   took   a   step   sideways,   seizing   Forest   so   tightly   Forest   had   no   choice   but   to   do   the   same;   and   then   leaped   one   step   back. A   frozen   winter   swamp   flickered   before   them   for   an   instant,   changing   at   once   to   a   familiar   scene:   the   eerie   peat-swamp   valley   of   Rugg   Brook,   and   it   was   just   as   he   had   first   seen   it. The   season   was   early   summer,   a   cool   dry   day. But   the   water   of   the   brook   that   splashed   beside   the   road   was   no   longer   red-brown,   but   a   deep   ancient   red.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “We   wait   here.”   said   Arheled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “For   what   do   we   wait?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   face   of   Arheled   grew   grim. “You   always   were   fascinated   by   the   riddle-speech   of   Bilbo,”   he   said   softly,   “and   I   hope   that   it   is   still   that   way.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             A   powerful   wind   stirred   far   in   the   distance.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “He   felt   our   coming,   the   guardian   of   this   place;   and   he   would   find   us   however   far   we   fled. I   cannot   help   you   here,   Forest,   as   I   did   when   you   spoke   to   the   King   of   the   Dead;   you   must   answer   him   yourself,   of   your   own   knowledge,   for   unless   you   defeat   him   in   words   we   can   go   no   farther.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “But   what   is   he??”   cried   Forest,   as   the   wind   rose   to   a   great   roar,   drawing   ever   closer. Far   off   yet,   they   saw   the   sky   suddenly   darkening   with   gray,   and   the   violent   silver-green   of   leaves   suddenly   blown   inside-out   transfigured   the   canopy.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “His   knowledge   is   born   out   of   yours.”   Arheled   murmered,   his   voice   fainter   as   he   faded   into   the   trees,   and   then   the   roar   drowned   it,   and   he   was   gone. Forest   looked   down   and   found   the   white   cloak   was   round   him   now,   hanging   heavy   and   motionless,   unstirred   by   the   wind   that   rose   around   him.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Then   a   wall   of   torn   leaves   and   small   limbs   filled   the   slate-grey   sky. The   trees   groaned   and   bent,   all   their   limbs   roaring   at   once   as   they   bowed   and   streamed   away,   and   a   solid   wave   of   whirring   air   smote   and   broke   upon   Forest;   but   it   could   not   move   him,   planted   like   an   old   tree   in   the   graveled   road,   and   splitting   on   him   passed   him   by. Trees   exploded   in   fire,   sending   burning   shards   of   wood   around   and   upon   him;   but   the   white   cloak   quenched   all   sparks   to   touch   it,   and   Forest   was   not   harmed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             With   a   whirling   motion,   huge   wings   like   hills   descended   from   above,   lowering   an immense   object   underneath   them. It   was   long   and   sinuous,   but   webbed   like   some   great   cocoon   had   encased   it,   trailing   streamers   of   web   below   it. It   had   twenty   jointed   legs,   and   each   leg   had   steel   whips   that   probed   and   lashed   of   themselves. But   the   wings   were   a   dragon’s,   and   the   triple   head   was   a   dragon’s,   all   three   heads   moving   as   one. The   whiskered   jaws   each   trailed   beards,   long   and   thick   as   a   dwarf’s,   and   on   every   face   was   a   long   and   sarcastic   smile.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             With   a   boom   that   shook   the   ground   the   Worm   landed   in   the   clearing   of   burnt   trees   he   had   made,   and   looked   upon   the   eyes   of   Forest. And   Forest   looked   back   without   effect.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Where   is   the   other?” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   said   the   Winged   Worm.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   am   no   other   than   myself.”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “That   cloak   is   not   your   own. There   were   two. Where   is   the   other?” ''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   am   alone   here.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Worm’s   left   head   turned   from   side   to   side. As   before,   all   three   heads   spoke   as   one.''   “What   do   you   seek   down   inside   your   own   self? The   other   has   left;   but   we   know   he   was   here. Speak,   before   I   turn   your   eyes   back   outward.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   seek   my   full   self.”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   centermost   head   nodded,   slowly. “I   will   ask.”   the   three   heads   said.''   “You   must   answer   whatever   I   ask. But   we   have   knowledge   you   have   no   comprehension   of,   and   you   have   not   the   skill   to   fence   with   us.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   will   answer,   nevertheless.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What   is   the   Road?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Road   is   the   command   that   weaves   together   the   fabric   of   the   surface   of   the   world   that   once   was,   unshifting   and   immobile,   though   the   very   Universe   shift   around   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Who   are   the   ones   that   walk   upon   the   Road?” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Those   who   have   leave.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “There   is   a   kind   that   can   unmake   the   Road. What?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Forest   gulped,   but   his   face   remained   still. “The   feet   of   the   Dead   can   break   apart   the   manifestation   of   the   Road   that   touches   the   Earth   between   its’   Returnings.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Why   does   the   Road   walk   when   it   has   not   yet   returned,   and   what   is   it   like?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Road   touches   the   living   earth   in   one   place   at   all   times,   that   its’   Warden   may   have   it   by   him   as   he   tends   the   Graves   of   Arheled   in   the   mountains   of   the   North   Gate. It   is   in   form   like   a   broad   cobbled   way   winding   through   the   mountains,   and   this   form   can   be   sent   to   any   place   the   Warden   pleases.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “If   it   walks   always   there,   then   why   must   it   come   here,   and   why   must   it   return?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   must   return   to   Temple   Fell   every   hundred   years,   in   order   to   pull   the   wandering   Earth   back   underneath   it. It   must   come   to   Temple   Fell,   because   that   is   the   heart   of   the   place   that   was   broken   off   and   wrought   into   the   New   Lands   in   the   bending   of   the   world.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Whence <span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">   ''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">came   the   place   that   was   broken   from   the   old,   and   how   great   is   the   extent   thereof?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“When   Arda   was   made   round,   Middle-earth   was   broken   apart   in   the   bending   of   it   backward,   and   the   homeland   of   those   ancient   ones,   venda    with   hair   of   gold   and   silver,   was   pulled   over   the   new   seas   and   fused   in   the   rising   of   the   new   lands,   into   their   eastern   shore. Here   upon   the   Temple   Fell   was   the   growing   of   the   Gems,   and   the   founding   of   the   Swords. The   land   that   was   taken   extends   up   from   the   Lord   of   the   Moon   to   the   Dwarf-halls   of   Colebrook,   and   its’   line   runs   down   the   Hall   Meadow   valley   and   the   fractured   gorge   of   the   Naugatuck   River   until   it   meets   Waterbury,   and   thence   in   a   line   to   the   Lord   of   the   Moon   who   forms   the   south   border,   and   north   up   the   Flat   Valley   along   the   line   of   the   basalt    fissures,   which   erupted   along   the   seam   of   the   welding.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             ''“What   is   the   name   of   the   Herald?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   name   of   the   Herald,   like   the   head   of   the   Herald,   is   hidden   from   view;   but   by   Men   he   is   named   Orion,   and   Menelmacar,   and   the   Warlock.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “When   the   Herald   walks,   whence   will   he   come?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “The   Herald   will   not   walk,   for   Daslenga   will   bear   him. He   will   come   from   the   direction   of   the   star   named   Herald.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Tell   me   the   knowledge   of   the   nature   of   evil.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Evil   is   the   wreckage   and   the   turning   of   the   good;   it   has   no   nature,   it   is   only   a   ruin   of   what   began   well,   or   an   absence   of   what   ought   to   be   there,   as   dark   is   only   that   which   is   not   yet   filled   by   light.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “And   yet   darkness   can   exclude   the   light.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Only   if   it is   held   in   place   by   the   will   of   a   being   who   does   not   desire   light.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Then   who,   if   you   have   knowledge,   is   the   Lord   of   the   Darkness?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “He   who   began   as   the   Lord   of   all   things   Seen:   the   One   who   Arises   in   Might.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What   is   your   true   name?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Forest   looked   upon   the   three   heads   coldly. “The   same   as   thine,”   he   said   in   a   voice   as   flat   as   death,   “for   thou   art   inside   me.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Dost   thou   know   the   answer?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   must   take   my   word   for   it   that   I   do.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Who   is   thy   father? Who   is   thy   mother? Who   is   thy   sister?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “My   father   is   light   and   my   mother   is   lake,   and   my   sister   is   a   fortress,   for   fair   is   she.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Where   is   the   place   of   thy   own   dying?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Forest   stepped   forward. “You   have   asked   enough   questions,   Worm,”   he   said. “Now   answer   mine. Will   you   stand   aside—now?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   Worm   bent   all   sox   eyes   upon   him. Deep,   dark   and   treacherous,   full   of   dragon-spell,   Forest   read   in   them   the   answer   to   the   last   question.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   cloak   of   Arheled   whipped   forward   in   his   hands. He   did   not   remember   doffing   it. His   aim   was   true. Over   the   three   mouths   it   clamped,   just   as   those   mouths   belched   fire;   and   beaten   back   inside   it,   the   fire   seethed   and   boiled,   and   with   a   boom   and   splatter   the   Worm’s   insides   burst. His   fire   flowed   out   upon   the   gravel   and   hardened   into   gold,   and   he   lay   dead,   all   three   heads   limp.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Arheled   pinned   his   cloak   about   him   once   again. There   was   approval   in   his   glance. “You   are   gaining   wisdom,   Forest.”   he   said. “Come,   the   way   is   open. Now   all   our   skill   is   needed.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Across   the   road   there   was   now   fading   into   substance   a   huge   castle   wall,   built   of   stones   so   ancient   the   mortar   had   outlasted   them,   and   stood   up   in   ridges   from   the   joints   in   the   pitted   and   eroded   surface. Gates   of   red   metal   stood   shut,   and   before   them,   still   dim   as   ghosts,   were   coming   into   focus   the   forms   of   armoured   men. Towers   lifted   vague   spires   above   the   gate-arch,   and   behind   them,   replacing   the   trees,   an   immense   donjon.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Before   they   fully   come!”   hissed   Arheled,   and   dived   into   the   laurels. Forest   followed. Their   clothes   began   to   change   hue,   until   they   blended   perfectly. In   front   of   them,   the   guardsmen   were   now   nearly   solid. Then   there   was   a   ripple   as   in   a   pond,   and   the   castle   stood   entire   before   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   wormed   with   an   almost   fluid   slowness   to   the   edge   of   the   brush. Forest   followed,   finding   it   almost   impossible   to   imitate   Arheled,   especially   as   he   could   barely   see   him. He   peered   out   at   the   guard,   and   nearly   gasped. They   were   not   human. Out   of   the   flamboyant   scarlet   armour   projected   the   faces   of   dogs,   canine   yet   rational,   their   cold   eyes   shifting   constantly,   their   dreadful   sharp   noses   sniffing. They   bore   great   two-handed   claymores   five   feet   long,   drawn,   resting   on   the   ground.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   opened   a   bag   and   poured   a   silvery   dust   out   of   it. It   hung   in   the   air   like   mist. Then   he   exhaled,   a   long   slow   breath,   and   the   glittering   cloud   rose   and   faded,   making   for   the   gate.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Watch.”   he   whispered.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Suddenly   the   dog-men   began   to   sneeze,   continuously. Arheled   and   Forest   crept   out   of   the   laurels   and   moved,   in   a   steady   slow   motion,   bent   double   across   the   open. Grass   grew   there,   and   looking   down   at   his   feet   Forest   saw   his   garments   now   mimicked   the   grass   perfectly. They   reached   the   wall. Gripping   the   protruding   mortar   Arheled   began   to   climb,   and   Forest   with   some   difficulty   found   himself   doing   the   same.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   joints   made   good   handholds,   but   poor   footholds. Forest   in   consequence   had   exhausted   all   the   strength   in   his   hands   before   they   were   halfway. Arheled   seemed   to   realise   this,   for   he   stuck   out   a   long   stick   from   one   hand. Forest   grasped   it   and   found   himself   whirled   aloft   to   sit   on   Arheled’s   shoulders. In   this   manner   they   made   it   to   the   top.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   pressed   them   against   the   side   of   a   protruding   turret. Dog-men   were   pacing   the   walls,   stopping   now   and   again   to   bark   laughter   at   the   sneezing   pair   down   at   the   gate. But   they   passed   the   two   intruders   as   if   they   wore   Elven-cloaks. Slipping   along   under   the   battlements,   they   followed   in   the   footsteps   of   one   patrol   until   a   stair   appeared,   descending   the   inside   of   the   wall. It   had   no   rail   and   was   very   narrow,   made   of   great   bars   of   rock   built   into   the   wall.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             At   the   bottom   they   crouched   under   the   stair   and   looked   around. Dog-men   were   everywhere,   in   armour   and   out   of   armour,   doing   all   the   tasks   that   a   castle   needs   done   to   keep   it   going. On   the   far   side   of   a   courtyard   rose   the   great   door   to   the   donjon.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “We   need   a   diversion.”   murmered   Arheled. One   hand   glowed   blue. He   opened   it   to   disclose   a   firecracker. Standing   up   he   tossed   it   in   the   air. It   sailed   up   and   over   the   court—and   then   went   off,   far   to   the   right,   in   a   blinding   flash   and   a   fountain   of   blue   and   white   sparks.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   whole   castle   broke   into   an   uproar. All   the   dogs   on   the   wall   leaned   out,   looking   for   an   outside   attack. All   the   dogs   down   below   milled   around,   making   a   beeline   for   the   firework. Arheled   and   Forest   slipped   across   easily   in   the   confusion.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   did   not,   as   Forest   expected,   bolt   right   in   the   door. He   turned   left   and   followed   the   donjon   wall   for   some   ways,   until   he   reached   a   small   grate. His   hand   glowed   and   the   grate   came   out   neat   as   a   pin. Forest,   at   his   motion,   crawled   in   first,   dropping   down   into   a   stone   room,   and   Arheled   followed,   slipping   the   grate   back.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   were   in   a   stone   cell. A   slab   provided   a   bed,   a   reeking   pail   the   toilet,   and   chained   to   the   bed   was   a   man   in   rags. He   lifted   his   eyes   and   Forest   gasped:   it   was   Ronnie’s   face.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “How’d   you   get   in   here?”   Forest   demanded.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You’re—Forest.”   said   Ronnie   slowly. “So   they   got   you   too,   huh? The   dogs   catch   everyone   in   the   end.”   He   coughed. “Who’d   have   thought   it? Ronnie   Wendy   ending   his   days   in   a   medieval   dungeon,   dying   from   dungeon-fever.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “We’ve   got   to   set   him   free!”   pleaded   Forest. Arheled   merely   looked   at   him   and   said   nothing.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What’s   wrong   with   you?! Cut   his   chains   or   something!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   told   you   already,   Forest,   that   we   are   inside   yourself.”   answered   Arheled. “You   see   people   in   the   outside   world,   and   you   form   ideas   of   them,   a   mental   image   of   who   they   are   and   what   they’re   like. But   are   they   the   real   people?”   He   sighed   and   pulled   the chains   apart   like   taffy. “And   more   importantly,   are   they   hostile? But   if   you   insist…we   do   need   some   information. I   could   never   have   entered   that window   if   you   hadn’t   first.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             He   turned   to   Ronnie   Wendy. “Where   is   the   treasure   of   this   castle?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   pointed   up. “The   castle   has   no   basement.”   he   said. “It   only   goes   up. Take   me   with   you. I   know   the   way.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Go   in   front   of   me.”   said   Arheled. “Forest   will   lead. Tell   him   the   way.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   opened   the   cell   door—after   Arheled   touched   it—and   came   out   into   a   tomb-like   hall   of   plain   stone. Ronnie   took   them   to   a   stair   in   the   corner   of   a   sharp   turn. It   wound   up   for   some   way   inside   a   turret   and   then   ended   in   a   conical   attic. And   that   attic   was   filled   with   dogs.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Oh   snapplepops.”   whispered   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   beat   it   back   down   the   stairs,   dog-men   in   full   pursuit. One   or   two   had   crossbows. They   reached   the   hall   and   raced   down   it. The   crossbow-dogs   held   their   pieces   to   their   shoulders   and   released   glowing   red   bolts. Arheled   held   up   his   cloak,   but   they   shore   right   through   it   and   howled   onward.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Duck!”   Arheled   roared.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Ronnie   threw   himself   in   front   of   Forest. All   the   bolts   entered   his   body. He   shuddered   convulsively   and   fell   slowly   on   his   face. Arheled,   glowing   a   blinding   blue,   threw   more   silver   dust   at   the   dogs,   and   grabbed   Forest,   who   was   staring   in   numb   shock   at   Ronnie.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Run,   Forest!”   he   hollored.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “But   Ronnie—he’s—“

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “That   isn’t   Ronnie,”   Arheled   snapped   as   they   raced   up   another   stair. “It’s   your   idea   of   Ronnie. Now   use   those   eyes   of   yours! I   feel   there’s   a   secret   stair   here,   but   this   far   in   my   eyes   are   dimming   and   my   power   is   reduced   to   magic   tricks.”   He   gestured   behind   them,   where   the   echo   of   sneezing   dogs   came   hollow   to   their   ears.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   frowned. His   eyes   flashed   for   a   brief   second   with   a   green   spark   as   he   gazed   around. They   mounted   more   slowly   now,   and   came   to   the   top:   another   dead   end,   this   one   in   a   long   dusty   room   lined   with   unused   weapons   of   every   shape   and   kind.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “They’re   all   dead   ends.”   he   said. “Every   stair   in   this   castle   stops   at   the   second   floor.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “I   know   that.”   said   Arheled   testily. “Can   you   see   the   hidden   stair?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Ronnie.”   said   Forest   slowly. “He   knew   the   way. It’s   at   the   first   stair.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   drew   his   sword. The   edges   flickered   a   queer   blue. “I’ll   clear   a   path.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   passed   among   the   sneezing   dogs   without   incident   and   mounted   the   turret-stair,   Forest   gazing   sharply   around. The   green   spark   in   his   eyes   was   a   steady   glow. He   paused   at   the   top. Four   unharmed   and   unsneezing   dogs,   playing   cards   at   the   back,   suddenly   sat   up   and   sniffed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   stepped   forward. The   dogs   jumped   up   with   startled   yelps   and   drew   short   swords,   cards   flying   every   which   way. Like   oiled   lightning   the   Warden   of   the   Road   attacked,   turning   so   fast   he   was   catching   and   parrying   two   attackers   at   once,   his   sword   flicking   about   in   circles   of   fire. The   other   two,   hampered   by   their   companions,   tried to   get   in   a   blow   here   or   there,   but   Arheled   was   too   fast. One   sweep   of   his   sword   sent   a   dog’s   head   flying;   the   backstab   buried   his   blade   half-deep   in   the   second   dog’s   breastplate;   his   two   opponents   taken   care   of,   Arheled   pulled   out   the   sword   in   time   to   parry   the   third   dog,   and   in   a   single   lunge   cut   off   both   the   sword   arm   and   the   leg underneath   it. Ducking   the   furious   sweep   of   the   fourth   dog,   Arheled   swung   so   hard   he   nearly   clove   the last   dog   in   two.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             While   the   battle   was   raging,   Forest   peered   closer   at   the   sloping   walls   of   the   conical   chamber. He   saw   it,   all   at   once,   upright   like   a   gable,   and   it   was   held   shut   by   chains   of   steel. Slowly   Forest   drew   the   sword   of   the   Soldier’s   Tower,   and   the   blade   now   burned   not   blue   but   forest-green. He   did   not   remember   when   it   had   appeared   upon   him. The   tempered   links   split   like   butter   at   his   blows. The   door   swung   open.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Up   the   staircase   mounted   Forest,   Arheled   behind   him   walking   backward   in   case   of   assault   from   below. The   stairs   were   fluted   in   grooves,   whether   wood   or   some   aged   soft   stone   he   could   not   tell. They   passed   doors   on   both   sides,   some   plain,   some   ornate   with   carved   figures   that   watched   them   pass   with   hostile   but   silent   eyes. All   of   them   were   webbed   with   dusty   cobs   from   long-dead   spiders   and   seemed   to   have   been   unused   in   ages. The   grooves   in   the   stairs   were   damp   now. Still   on   they   climbed,   and   the   doors   grew   more   elaborate,   and   more   ancient,   some   of   cast   iron   eaten   purple-red   with   pitted   rust   until   great   holes   gaped   in   them,   some   of   wood   black   and   warped   apart   with   age. Yet   the   carvings   were   unaffected   by   time   or   rot,   staring   with   living   eyes   that   moved   to   follow   them. The   grooves   were   full   now   of   a   trickling   dark   liquid,   and   flies   buzzed   about   them,   and   a   thin,   abominable   smell   came   up   from   them. Like   blood.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Then   the   stair   ended   at   a   dusty   door   of   rough   wood,   so   closely   fitted   and   bound   with   black   iron   as   to   be   solid   as   a   wall. Forest   tugged   and   yanked,   but   he   could   not   budge   the   door.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Is   it   here,   what   we   seek?”   he   asked.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled   shook   his   head. “I   think   we   have   yet   deeper   to   go,”   he   answered,   “but   first   you   must   open   up   that   door.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   hewed   at   it   with   his   sword.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “That   is   not   going   to   open   it.”   said   Arheled. “But   this   will.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">He   held   up   a   paintbrush   and   a   box   of   paints.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             As   if   in   a   dream   Forest   took   the   brush   and   opened   the   paints   and   the   little   jar   of   solvent   for   cleaning   the   brush   between   colors. The   brush   raced   in   swift,   simple   strokes   over   the   aged   surface. Slowly   there   grew   upon   the   door,   the   figure   of   a   white   Tree.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             It’s   flowers   were   like   lily-roses   of   silver,   and   its’   leaves   were   dark   as   laurel;   the   wood   was   white   and   gleaming   with   a   radiance   of   silver,   and   silver   dripped   from   the   blossoms   in   a   rain   of   light. On   that   rough   sawn   surface   it   held   none   of   the   detail   he   would   have   liked   to   give   it,   but   there   was   in   it   a   beauty   and   glory   beyond   anything   Forest   had   anticipated.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             The   door   swung   open. Inwards   it   swung,   silent   as   night,   and   beyond   was   only   a   dark   green   gloom. Forest   stepped   into   the   forest   that   lay   beyond,   and   Arheled   followed. Behind   them   door   and   stair   vanished   into   mist.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Hemlocks   and   pines,   spruces   and   firs,   all   turned   their   dark   trunks   and   looked   at   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             They   had   faces   growing   out   of   their   boles,   and   every   face   had   eyes   of   blue   flame. From   every   needled   branch   sprang   a   bladelike   flame,   spinning   and   whirling   like   swords. Swift   as   arms   the   branches   darted   down,   and   out   of   them   ten   hundred   blades   of   fire   rayed   upon   Forest   and   Arheled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Shields   of   green   light   slammed   into   place   around   them. Forest   wasn’t   even   aware   of   ordering   them   to   form. He   was   angry   now,   angry   at   all   these   interruptions,   these   guardians   for   stopping   him,   for   keeping   him   from   what   was   his. He   strode   through   the   trees,   blades   of   fire   bounding   off   the   shields.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Get   out   of   my   way.” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">   he   said.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Out   of   his   sword   lightning   bolts   of   green   fire   exploded. Thunderclaps   shook   the   forest. Trees   flew   up   like   bombs. A   hail   of   green   embers   fell   around   them. The   trees   drew   back,   hissing   with   rage,   but   wary;   and   behind   Forest   walked   Arheled,   all   luminous   blue,   bending   warning   looks   upon   the   trees.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Before   them   stood   the   queer   arch-tree   of   Knapp   Hill,   like   two   legs   of   wood   over   a   gap;   but   between   them   was,   not   air,   but   a   door   of   stone.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   walked   up   to   the   door   and   sent   it   up   in   pieces.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Hurry!”   Arheled   shouted,   looking   at   the   forest   around   them. “You   know   what   we   are   seeking. That   room   is   one   that   you   alone   can   enter. Hurry! The   forest   is   roused!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   leaped   into   the   room. The   sword   of   the   Tower   became   green   mist   in   his   hands   and   blew   away. And   there   he   stood,   rooted,   his   mouth   partly   open.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Hi,   sweetie,”   smiled   Mrs. Lake,   looking   up   from   the   kitchen   table   of   the   house on   Wintergreen   Island. She   wore   her   old   apron   and   was   spooning   pudding   into   dishes. Two   dishes.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Aren’t   you   hungry?”   she   said,   a   little   eagerly,   still   smiling. “It’s   banana-vanilla. Your   favorite.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   still   said   nothing,   but   his   eyes   were   roaming   the   shelves. There   was   the   spice   rack. There   was   the   cereal,   the   flour,   sugar   and   cake   mixes. There   were   the   cans. He   glanced   at   them   and   passed   on. They   were   not   what   he   was   looking   for.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Come   sit   down,   honey.”   said   Mrs. Lake,   as   if   he   was   five. “Don’t   you   want   this   nice   pudding?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You’re   not   giving   Bell   any?”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Bell? Who’s   Bell? Sweetie,   are   you   sure   you’re   all   right?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             There   was   a   green   flicker   in   Forest’s   eyes. It   wasn’t   on   the   shelves. He   scanned   the   rest   of   the   familiar   room. The   cupboard   just   behind   Mom   was   closed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             He   made   his   way   around   the   kitchen   table.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Oh,   no   you   don’t,   sweetie,”   laughed   Mom,   getting   between   him   and   the   cupboard. “I’ve   got   a   surprise   for   you   in   there. You   can’t   peek   until   after   your   party.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Mom   never   throws   parties   for   me.”   said   Forest. “She   knows   I   don’t   like   them.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “What   do   you   mean,    Mom? Who’s   this   ‘Mom’   person? I’m   right   here   in   front   of   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   bent   his   flaming   eyes   on   her. The   green   light   burned   like   candles. “Are   you   going   to   stand   out   of   my   way? Or   must   I   thrust   you   out   of   it?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “How   dare   you   talk   like   that   to   your   own   mother…!”'' “You   are   not   my   mother''.”   said   Forest. Green   light   seethed   out   of   his   head   like   glowing   fog. “I   can   see   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Walls   and   kitchen   began   to   ripple   as   the   thing   that   looked   like   his   mother   threw   her   arms   around   him. “Forest,   Forest—sweetie—honey—I   love   you—hold   me—hold    me—“   she   cried.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             He   struggled. Her   grip   was   terrifyingly   strong,   and   out   of   her   arms   heat   began   to   rise,   and   Forest   gasped   with   pain   as   his   skin   bubbled   with   burns. She   crooned   on,   but   the   crooning   was   ever   more   horrible,   and   still   she   clasped   him   with   her   burning   arms   as   he   struggled   fruitlessly.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “ ‘Mother’,   I   call   down   the   curse   upon   you   I   refused   to   call   upon   my   own   and   real   mother!”   Forest   shouted,   fury   building   to   a   peak   in   him. He   was   no   longer   burnt,   he was   burning   green,   and   she   that   held   him   could   no   longer   restrain   him   as   he   reeled   forward,   dragging   her   shrivelling   form,   toward   the   closed   cupboard. Behind   him   came   a   flashing   light   as   if   blue   fires   were   erupting,   and   he   heard   dim   and   faint   the   great   voice   of   Arheled   as   he   battled   the   trees. His   own   strength   was   failing. He   gripped   the   cupboard   door,   shocked   to   observe   as   he   did   that   his   arm   was   green   and   withering   up,   and   pulled   it   open.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Inside   there   was   only   one   item. A   little   matchbox   train   he   had   played   with   when   he   was   six,   wound   by   clockwork:   a   red   locomotive,   with   yellow   wheels,   and   a   blue   front   and   cowcatcher. His   head   was   beginning   to   swim. The   monster   that   was   draining   his   life   along   with   hers   gave   a   choked   gargle. The   blue   reflections   of   Arheled’s   last   stand   winked   out   and   his   voice   ceased. The   world   was   growing   dim   in   his   eyes. With   a   last   effort   he   closed   his   hands   over   the   little   engine,   before   all   sight   faded. Andy   Engine,   that   was   the   name. Andy   Engine   was   what   he   had   called   it. How   could   he   have   forgotten?

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Arheled’s   hand   unclenched   from   Forest’s   face. So   long   had   it   gripped   that   marks   were   pressed   into   Forest’s   skin. Forest   gasped   and   opened   his   eyes. Scars   like   burning   lashes   were   fading   from   the   Warden’s   face. Drawn   by   the   great   cry   Forest   had   given   in   his   final   throes,   Bell   raced   out   the   back   door   and   stopped   dead.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Tell   me,   Forest,   do   you   remember   her   now?”   said   Arheled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   gave   a   sort   of   duck   of   his   head. His   eyes   had   a   blank,   stunned   expression.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Who   is   she?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Bell-mell.”   murmered   Forest. Faintly   he   was   aware   of   a   convulsive   start   from   Bell,   but   that   wasn’t   surprising;   she   had   gotten   really   annoyed   at   that   name   and   he   used   to   tease   her   with   it   unmercifully. “She’s   my   sister. We   grew   up   together.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “And   do   you   still   hate   your   sister?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   shook   his   head,   slowly. The   ruined   painting   seemed   so…distant,   now.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “Then   what   do   you   say   to   her?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   turned   around   and   met   Bell’s   eyes,   and   then   lowered   his,   feeling   both   abashed   and   yet   far   closer   to   this   girl,   no   longer   just   a   friend   but   old   playmate   and   sister,   who   he   had   grown   up   with. “You’re   forgiven.”   he   mumbled.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “And   I   really   am   sorry.”   said   Bell. A   mischievous   look   came   over   her   face. “But   if   you   ever   call   me   Bell-mell   again   I’m   throwing   another   bucket   at   you.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “You   remember,   too?”   said   Forest.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “The   spell   the   Enemy   put   on   you   is   broken.”   said   Arheled   wearily. “Now   if   you   two   can   keep   from   killing   each   other   for   half   an   hour,   I’m   going   home   to   get   some   rest. I’m   not   as   young   as   you   are.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             For   some   reason   this   remark   struck   them   as   hysterically   funny.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             “It   is   good   that   they   can   laugh.”   murmered   Arheled,   looking   out   over   the   lake. “With   all   things   sloping   ever   more   steeply   to   some   unseen   end,   and   such   bulwarks   as   I   can   raise   standing   like   sand   castles,   it   is   good   that   they   can   laugh   without   fear   or   care.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">             Forest   was   staring   at   Arheled   in   wary   silence,   no   longer   laughing. “You   heard?”   said   Arheled   wryly. “I   do   not   often   talk   to   myself. With   the   Father   of   Dragons,   who   just   a   few   months   previous   could   be   sent   skidding   out   of   a   house   by   the   mere   name   of   the   Road,   suddenly   able   to   seal   the   Lost   Caves   of   Colebrook   so   that   not   only   can   Wild   not   escape,   but   Arheled   not   enter;   it   is   no   wonder   my   mood   is bleak. But   come,   Forest,   do   not   despair. Chaos   is   not   yet   the   Morgoth.”

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