Ch. 7: The Gates of the North

Back to Arheled

             The   days   were   crisper   now,   warm   but   with   frost   in   their   memory. Bell   and   Forest   soon   grew   used   to   the   bizarre   rhythems   of   homeschooling:   breakfast,   then   Mrs. Lake   frantically   trying   to   figure   out   what   they   were   to   study   next   before   she   had   to   go   to   work,   then   schoolwork   all   morning. They   did   it   in   most   eccentric   fashion,   stopping   for   rests   every   five   minutes,   but   when   Hunter   Light   would   show   up   on   his   lunch   hour   they   usually   had   enough   done   to   satisfy   him.

             “Did   you   hear   about   Lara’s   sister?”   Bell   said   to   Forest   during   one   of   these   breaks.

             “Yup.”''   Ronnie   told   me   before   he   told   you,   remember? ''

             “I   think   the   dragons   took   her. Isn’t   that   awful? Brooke   says   Lara   is   worried sick.”

             There   was   a   knock   at   the   door.

             Bell   looked   out   the   window   and   nodded:   it   wasn’t   Cornello   or   any   known   enemies,   so   Forest   went   down   and   opened   the   door.

             Lara   stood   on   the   porch.

             Sick   was   a   pretty   accurate   description. She   looked   almost   ill,   pale   and   haggard,   her   eyes   feverishly   bright.

<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   good,   it’s   you.”   she   said. “I   asked   Ronnie   and   he   didn’t   know. You’ve   heard   about   my   missing   sister,   right? Have   you   Seen   anything,   in   dreams   or   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;">             “You   should   call   Arheled.”   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;">             “And   what   do   you   think   I’ve   been   doing?”   Lara   said   bitterly. “I   stood   in   the   woods and   shouted   his   name   with   my   voice   and   my   mind:   Arheled,   Arheled!   And   he   never   answers.”

<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   know   where   he   lives.”   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;">             Lara   fixed   him   with   her   burning   eyes. “Where?! My   God,   where?!”

<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   lives   between   the   two   hills.”   said   Forest. “In   a   place   called   Indian   Meadow.”

<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   you   take   me   there?”

<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   considered. “Bell,   can   you   tell   Dad   I’m   up   the   mountain?”

<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;">             “Sure.”   said   Bell,   looking   a   bit   miffed.

<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   drove   here.”   said   Lara   as   they   walked   to   the   bridge. “Where   is   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;">             “We   have   to   stop   at   the   library,”   Forest   told   her. “I   need   to   see   a   map.”

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<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;">             Voices   rang   and   echoed   hollow   in   Ralph’s   ears. His   head   ached   violently   and   he   didn’t   dare   to   move   it. Yet   despite   the   pain   his   mind   was   remarkably   clear,   and   he   expected   at   first   that   he   would   wake   up   in   a   jail   cell,   or   in   some   top-secret   government   lair   for   interrogating   persons   of   interest. He   remembered   the   bizarre   interview   with   those   two   cops—if   they   had   been   cops—and   then   Mary   had   screamed   for   him   to   run,   and   somebody   must   have   hit   him. What   on   earth   could   they   want   him   for? The   only   possible   thing   he   could   think   of   were   his   discussions   with   Matt   O’Farrell   and   Brenden   Merci   about   forming   a   sort   of   Catholic   underground   if   persecution   came,   and   how   the   heck   they   could   know   about   that   was   beyond   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;">             The   voices   were   growing   a   little   clearer   now,   queer   rough   hissing   voices,   almost   sounding    scorched,   some   way   above   him. He   did   not   open   his   eyes   yet. Better   to   let   them   think   he   was   still   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;">             “…you   may   have   thought. What   you   did   is   another   matter. Why   are   they   damaged?”   a   deep   voice   growled.

<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   did   not   dare   to   let   them   realize   their   peril.”   another   voice   said,   younger   but   no   less   harsh. “They   are   Catholics,   my   Father. The   dragon-spell   does   not   work   on   them,   and   they   could   look   into   our   eyes   with   no   effect. The   girl   was   already   aware. It   was   needful   to   act   quickly. You   know   that   dragon-powers   cannot   touch   a   faithful   Catholic.”

<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;">             “Yes,   the   Church   is   still   too   strong   for   us.”   the   first   voice   rumbled. “But   that   will   change. I   am   glad   you   brought   her   unspoiled;   as   many   virgins   as   possible   should   be   among   the   number   of   the   seaters   on   the   thrones.”

<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   two   Catholic   girls   had   charms   of   power   on   their   necks. I   was   barely   able   to   transport   them   here. I   could   not   have   spoiled   them   if   I   wished—a   pity.”

<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;">             Dragons?? ''

<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;">             Ralph   squeezed   open   his   eyes   a   crack. He   was   lying   on   stone. Stone   that   gleamed   like   gold. It   felt   like   gold,   too,   smooth   and   cold   and   metallic. A   cave,   glowing   softly   with   queer   iridescent   hues   in   the   curving   walls,   lay   around   him,   and   rocks   gleaming   with   strange   and   vivid   colors   like   enormous   jewels   were   strewn   about. A   great   coiled   shape   like   a   huge   serpent   with   triangular   stegosaur-like   plates   standing   along   the   ridge,   lay   to   the   right,   and   following   it   up   Ralph   realized   it   was   not   a   snake,   but   a   gigantic   tail,   and   the   tail   of   a   monster   of   prehistoric   dimensions   that   squatted   above   them. Bulky   yet   sinuous,   huge   wings   with   great spined   fingers   folded   along   its’   back,   its’   vast   head   was   facing   away   from   him,   toward   an   even vaster   shape   that   lay   like   a   crimson   cloud   in   the   background   of   the scene,   filling   the   cave.

<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;">             Dragons. He   and   Mary   were   the   prisoners   of   dragons.

<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;">             Reaching   into   his   shirt   Ralph   gripped   the   Miraculous   Medal   that   he   wore   there. The   pain   in   his   head   was   gone   at   once.

<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   knew,   somehow,   exactly   what   to   do. Lunging   to   his   feet   with   a   roar,   he   shouted   out   the   name   of   Jesus   as   he   charged   toward   the   nearby   dragon,   Medal   held   like   a   sword   in   his   clenched   fist. The   dragons   swung   their   heads. Ralph   dove,   sliding   on   the   gold   floor,   aiming   for   the   soft   belly   of   the   dragon   in   front   of   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;">             “You   fool!” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   roared   the   Father   of   Dragons. ''“Don’t   rear! Squat! Flat   on   the   floor!”''

<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   younger   dragon   was   too   late. He   had   reared   up   to   spit   fire   at   Ralph,   but   Ralph   was   already   under   him,   and   with   a   shout   he   clapped   the   Miraculous   Medal   full   against   the   squishy   damp   belly   of   the   dragon’s   chest.

<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   was   a   blast   of   blue   thunder. The   gold   walls   were   suddenly   splattered   with   dark   blue-black   dragons’   blood. Shards   and   shreds   of   dragon-meat   slid   sickeningly   down   the   walls. Scales   fell   clattering   like   glass   from   the   heights   of   the   unseen   roof. But   all   the   dragon-guts   had   blown   away   from   Ralph,   so   he   was   unharmed.

<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;">             “Clever,   young   Catholic.”   said   the   Father   of   Dragons. “But   can   your   amulet   protect   you   from   water? Oh,   yes,   of   course,   I   forgot,   it’s   not   an   amulet,   huh? It’s   a   sacramental. Such   a   powerless   thing   when   it   comes   to   really   practical   matters.”

<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;">             Too   late   Ralph   saw   this   dragon   had   more   than   one   head. While   the   first   head   spoke,   the   second   spewed   water. A   river   overwhelmed   Ralph,   carried   him   away,   and   suddenly   he   found   himself   sitting   on   a   seat   of   stone,   high   above   the   floor,   staring   into   a   column   of   churning   uprushing   white   light. The   floor   was   not   gold. It   was   black   glass.

<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   you   not   know   that   no   dragon   really   dies?”   the   voice   of   the   Father   of   Dragons   mocked. “You   can   always   get   them   back. But   you   men,   when   you   die,   you   die   forever. There   is   no   resurrection,   there   is   no   afterliving. My   Master   will   consume   you,   and   you   will   churn   forever   in   his   belly.”

<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   the   mind   of   Ralph   swooned,   and   dreams   of   madness   took   him.

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<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;">             Lara   watched   Forest   go   into   the   library,   and   then   suddenly,   as   he   reached   the   doors,   she   couldn’t   see   him. Not   even   the   Children   of   the   Road   could   see   him   now,   when   he   wanted   to   be   unseen;   save   only   Ronnie   Wendy.

<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;">             Invisibly   he   passed   the   front   desk. Nerissa   was   talking   with   a   stout   oldish   woman   with   dull   grey-orange   hair:   the   Witch   of   Winchester   herself. Mrs. Linda   the   director   was   walking   up   the   hall,   watching,   watching,   as   she   always   did   watch. She   passed   him   by. The   Witch   of   Winchester   lifted   her   head   suspiciously   as   he   slipped   by   her,   but   her   eyes   glanced   over   him   and   saw   him   not. He   took   the   atlas   of   topographic   maps   from   the   table   and   walked   back   out   the   door.

<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   didn’t   know   you   could   borrow   that.”   said   Lara.

<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   library   haunted   by   witches   has   no   right   to   forbid   me.”   said   Forest. He   opened   to   Map   19. The   Winsted   quadrangle   took   up   two   facing   pages,   black   and   white.

<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;">             “Here’s   Meadow   St.”   said   Forest. “We   were   looking   up   it   when   Arheled   showed   me   the   two   hills.”

<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’s   the   Cobble…and   that   dark   area   must   be   the   Grapevine   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;">             “Here.”   pointed   Forest. “Between   Second   Cobble   and   this   other   hill. Indian   Meadow.”

<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   are   the   swamp   symbols. Great. We’ve   got   to   go   mucking   around   in   a   swamp   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;">             “It   looks   like   the   quickest   way   to   get   there,”   said   Forest,   “is   up   the   Cobble   Hill   and   along   the   brook. You   should   park   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;">             Lara   did   so   with   a   sigh. Forest   slipped   inside   to   return   the   atlas   and   they   walked   up   Main   Street,   past   Old   Baptist   and   Flatiron   Park,   to   where   the   bridge   over   Indian   Meadow   Brook   bordered   the   patch   of   woods   that   led   into   the   steep   flanks   of   the   Cobble. They   ducked   under   the   maple   branches. The   leaves   made   a   roof   of   shade,,   so   that   it   felt   more   closed-in   than   it   had   that   spring. The   constant   rains   had   left   the   low   ground   boggy,   until   they   crossed   the   stone   wall   and   climbed   slantwise   up   the   hill. The   hospital   showed   above   them   on   the   right,   through   the   trees. It   felt   cool   and   strong   out,   though   the   sun   was   warm   and   nearly   hot. Breezes   rustled   the   leaves.

<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   led   Lara   up   faint   deer   paths   in   the   steep   hill. At   one   point   clustering   spongelike   coral   mushrooms   had   formed   a   wide   patch,   their   close-set,   blunt,   branched   spikes   a   soft   creamy   white. Forest   stopped   to   pick   them   until   one   pocket   of   his   backpack   was   full.

<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   those   safe   to   eat?”   said   Lara.

<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;">             “Sure.”   said   Forest. “They   taste   like   vegetable   spaghetti. Sometimes   even   spicy.”

<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   crossed   a   breach   in   a   stone   wall   running   straight   uphill   and   entered   less   steep,   more   open   maple   and   birch   forest. Many   leaves   had   already   fallen,   giving   the   remaining   green   ones   a   scanty-thin   appearance. To   the   right   was   the   open,   thorn-choked   field   on   the   saddle   of   the   Cobble,   edged   by   ancient   maples   and   a   stone   wall. Barberry   began   to   fill   the   wood,   but   a   path remained   clear   where   a   farm   road   had   once   been,   and   so   they   crossed   to   the   heavier,   darker   hemlock   woods   under   the   small   cliff   and   jumbled   boulders   of   the   Grapevine   Rock,   second   of   the   three   summits   of   Cobble   Hill. Up   and   over   the   tumbled   skirts   and   long   slopes   of   the   back   of   Second   Cabble   they   climbed.

<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   hill   was   longer   and   slower   than   the   narrow   steep   point   that   was   The   Cobble;   beech-grown   slopes,   a   deep   green   dawning   into   the   first   hints   of   autumn   gold,   laden   with   logs   and   fern   and   rocks,   fell   ever   more   steeply   on   the   left   to   the   sound   of   running   water. Loggers   had   been   here   within   the   last   ten   years,   as   the   open   forest   and   thorny   underbrush   of   raspberry   testified. At   length   they   began   descending,   climbing   over   old   ruts   deepened   into   streamlets   and   plowing   through   masses   of   fern. They   came   to   the   bottom   and   found   an   old   logging   road   going   up   the   valley,   while   on   the   left,   around   a   small   hillock   dark   with   featherlock   pines,   the   brook   splashed   over   many   stones.

<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   was   swampy   at   first,   and   rills   of   water   seeped   through   the   nets   of   stickygrass   and   jewelweed   while   Forest   and   Lara   picked   their   way   along   the   side. Then   the   valley   rose   a   little   and   the   ground   dried. On   their   left   and   near   at   hand   the   brook   chattered   below   the   road. The   forest   was   of   old   hemlock   now,   thick   and   green   above   but   sad   and   brown   below,   layered   with   dull   horizontal   bands   of   dark   green   foliage. A   steep   hillside,   brown   and   twiggy,   rose   on   the   right,   and   the   logging   rd   curved   uphill,   bending   back   on   itself   as   it   headed   up   toward   Losaw   Rd. Leaving   it   they   headed   on   upstream.

<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   valley   became   narrower. Another   logging   road   was   visible   on   the   far   shore,   while   brush   and   young   linden   made   going   hard. They   crossed   easily   on   the   small   round   stones   sticking   out   of the   shallow   dark   water,   which   foamed   at   every   cataract   and   left   streams   of   bubbles. The   bed   was   about   ten   feet   wide. On   the   far   side   the   woods   were   sunny,   logged   hillsides   deep   in   raspberry   and   fern   rising   up   to   a   distant   crest. Then   they   reached   a   ford. A   deep-cloven   old   road,   the   uphill   side   held   back   by   rough   masonry,   came   down   the   hill   toward   them,   and,   meeting   their   road,   turned   and   crossed   the   stream   at   a   rocky   ford. On   the   far   side   it   bent   back,   following   the   stream   toward   its’   source. Two   huge   dented   pipes   of   corrugated   iron   had   once carried   the   stream   under   the   road,   but   now   brown   with   rust   they   stood   isolated   downstream,   where   some   old   flood   had   shoved   them   when   it   took   the   soil   from   around   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;">             “We   follow that   road.”   said   Forest,   pointing   across   the   stream.

<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   both   seem   to   follow   the   stream.”   said   Lara.

<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   one   leads   to   Arheled.”   he   stated.

<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   scrambled   and   jumped   across,   using   the   iron   pipes,   Lara   grumbling   that   they   should   have   stayed   on   that   side   coming   up. They   walked   up   the   other   road   in   silence. Small   raspberry   mingled   with   ashy   goldenrod   going   to   seed,   and   asters   blooming   white   and   faint   purple,   petals   like   long   rice   grains. It   had   an   open,   sunny,   cheerful   sort   of   feel,   with   the   sun   coming   from   above   and   the   greeny-yellow wall   of   young   trees   to   either   hand. Then   the   forest   closed   in   and   the   feeling   was   left   behind. Hemlocks   of   middle   size grew   along   the   road’s   borders,   and   whether   it   was   chance   or   some   trick   of   perspective,   where   the   road   went   straight   for   a   way   the   hemlocks   seemed   like   columns   lining   some   wild   woodland   hall.

<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   avenue.”   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;">             “They’re   not   planted   regular.”   Lara   objected   as   they   walked   further. As   they   did   so   the   hemlocks straggled   and   the   illusion   of   regularity   vanished,   but   when   they   looked   back   they   saw   one   last   glimpse   of   the   pillared   hall   behind   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;">             “This   is   the   approach   to   Arheled.”   he   answered.

<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   left   the   strange   avenue   behind. The   road   curved   right   and   became   open,   cresting   a   low   hump   of   land. Open   space   appeared   behind   the   trees   some   way   ahead. The   road   bent   right,   leaving   the   brook,   and   became   lined   with   creeping   raspberry   as   it   entered   a   loose   ring   of   pole-like   scanty   white   pines. They   hardly   gave   it   a   glance;   both   were   eager   to   reach   the   open   area. Leaving   the   road   they   wormed   their   way   through   old   dense   hemlocks. To   the   left   the   brook   was   open   and   grass   grew   in   tufts   on   the   bank. They   crossed   a   marshy   gully   on   a   huge   soft   brown   old   log,   a   baby   hemlock   growing   out   of   one   end. Stooping   under   the   low   branches   of a   squat   old   hemlock,   they   pushed   aside   limbs   to   find   themselves   on   the   edge   of   Indian   Meadow.

<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   wide   flat   lay   before   them,   oblong   and   nearly   a   mile   from   end   to   end,   dying   away   into   scrub   maple. It   was   open   like   a   meadow,   but   marshy,   and   short   cattail   reeds   with   drooping   blades   now   bleached   browny-pale   served   it   for   grass. A   few   dead   trees   reached   up   like   ancient   claws   fingers,   a   sad   greyish-white   like   old   bone. Higher   mounds   were   marked   by   browny-grey   ashes   of   burnt-old   goldenrod,   though   asters   of   white   and   deeper   purple   relieved   the   yellow-brown   and   old   green. A   creek   seeped   through   the   middle   of   this   flat,   marked   by   a   line   of   reeds   that   had   not   yet   faded   brown,   dull   green   amid   the   browny-yellow. A   steep   stony   hill   rose   abruptly   from   the   left   shore,   while   on   the   right   the   long   slopes   of   Second   Cobble   were   hidden   by   a   tall   border   of   spiky   white   pine,   the   dark   gloss   of   dense   laurel   underneath. The   far   end   was   closed   by   a   high   mound   dark   with   pines,   and   further   hills   formed   the   head   of   a   deep   bowl   valley   emptying   into   the   Meadow. A   few   faint   reds   and   oranges   added   some   color   to   the   sad   crusty   yellow-brown-green   of   the   trees. The   sky,   huge   overhead,   was   filled   with   great   racing   tattered   fair-weather   clouds,   and   blue   islands   of   sky   yawned   between   them,   a   deep   vivid   blue   at   the   zenith   and   a   paler   and   even   lovelier   blue   lower   down. Racing   shadows   made   the   hills   alternately   brilliant   and   dark. They   stood   on   a   bank   of   earth,   running   along   the   serrated   edge   of   a   hump   of   higher   ground   that   held   in   the   meadow. Thorns   grew   on   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;">             “Well,   this   is   Indian   Meadow   sure   enough.”   said   Lara. “What   do   we   do   now,   search   the   whole   valley   for   a   house?”

<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   passed   it.”   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;">             “What   do   you   mean,   we   passed   it?! I   didn’t   see   a   thing!”

<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’s—back   there.” ''   Hidden. Hidden   somewhere   close. ''

<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   you   say   so.”   said   Lara   doubtfully. “It   has   to   be   between   these   two   hills,   after   all.”

<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   passed   back   under   the   hemlock   and   crossed   the   stream   a   little   ways   below   the   meadow;   at   first   it   flowed   in   a   deepish   channel   with   a   stony   bottom. They   walked   slowly,   both   peering   about;   Lara   for   a   cunningly   blended   dwelling,   Forest   for   something   he   could   not   describe.

<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   have   to   cross   that.”   he   said   suddenly,   pointing   downstream. Woods   closed   them   in,   but   they   could   see   the   stream   flowed   in   a   shallow   valley   below   the   dim   avenue. The   ring   of   pines   showed   through   the   trees. Crossing   the   stony   creek   was   a   bridge   of   poles   and   sawn   logs   lashed   together;   some   forgotten   Boy   Scout   project,   perhaps,   from   years   back,   for   it   was   decrepit,   and   though   none   of   the   logs   had   decayed,   the   four   posts   supporting   it   below   had   been   knocked   askew   by   floods,   and   the   high   teepee   arch   of   joined   poles   above   it   was   sagging,   so   that   the   ladder-like   walkway   listed   to   the   left   and   shook   badly. The   ropes   had   bleached   gray   at   the   joints.

<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   going   to   fall   over.”   said   Lara.

<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   scrambled   up   onto   it. It   swayed   perilously   but   did   not   collapse. “It’ll   hold.”    he   said.

<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;">             “Well,   you   can   fall   in   if   you   want,   but   I’m   going   over   like   a   normal   person.”   Lara   retorted.

<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   you   want   to   see   Arheled   you   will   follow   my   lead.”   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;">             “And   why   should   I   go….”

<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   green   light   glowed   in   his   eyes. “You   cannot   find   the   house   unless   you   cross   this   bridge.”   he   said   sternly.

<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;">             Lara   eyed   him   strangely. But   she   climbed   onto   the   bridge,   clinging   to   the   tottering   supports,   and   they   worked   their   way   across   and   jumped   down.

<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;">             “Well,   nothing   looks   different   to   me,   is   something   wrong   with   my   eyes?”   quipped   Lara   sarcastically. Forest   made   no   answer,   scrambling   up   to   the   road   instead,   and   Lara   gave   an   exasperated   sigh   and   followed   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;">             When   they   reached   the   road,   they   stopped   where   they   stood,   eyes   widening. For   there   was   no   doubt   at   all   that   something   had   indeed   changed.

<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   old   logging   road   that   had   gone   through   the   little   clearing   in   the   circle   of   pines,   was   now   an   ancient   highway,   flat   paving   stones   buried   in   moss   and   ages   of   leaves. The   earth   swallowed   it   to   their   left;   to   their   right   it   ran   on   straight   between   the   avenues   of   trees;   but   ahead,   where   the   brushy   clearing   and   tall   open   pines   had   been,   a   circle   of   white   pines   now   surrounded   an   enclosed   ring   of   ground. Huge   now   they   were,   their   great   short   limbs   like   outthrust   hands,   shading   the   ground. Creeping   raspberry   and   ground   elder   paved   the   forest   floor,   and   the   close   green   foliage   of   partridgeberry   and   the   purplish   clusters   of   wintergreen   speckled   it   with   red   berries. And   amid   the   clearing   was   a   cabin   of   grey   wood.

<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;">             So   old   and   earthy   a   dwelling   Lara   had   never   seen,   save   in   ruins   nigh   reclaimed   by   the   earth. Moss   hung   in   green   beards   and   furred   the   planks   like   bark,   and   the   shingled   roof   bore   such   a   load   of   deep   moss   and   ferns   it   was   a   marvel   it   was   at   all   intact. Windows   were   set   in   the   walls,   the   glass   crusted   with   mold   and   crawling   skin   of   moss,   and   an   ancient   door   of   some   tarnished   metal   stood   half   open. Wrought   hinges    of   rusted   silver   curled   in   archaic   forms,   and   letters   were   graven   into   the   metal   in   some   forgotten   alphabet   of   power. A   plank   porch   ran   around   one   side. And   sitting   upon   it   was   a   figure   as   still   as   a   graven   king.

<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   drew   nearer,   carefully,   warily. Leaves   had   drifted   into   the   door   and   a   queer   reek   of   molded   wood   and   mildewed   clothing   came   from   within. Mildew   grew   upon   the   figure’s   clothes,   and   even   on   his   hair   and   skin,   so   long   had   he   sat   there. When   they   entered   the   ring   of   trees,   the   figure   lifted   his   head   with   a   creaking   of   bones   and   spoke.

<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;">             “So,   Star   of   the   Road,   you   have   sought   the   house   of   Arheled   and   found   it   at   the   last. I   am   here. What   do   you   ask   of   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;">             Lara   and   Forest   found   themselves   unable   to   say   a   word.

<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   straightened   his   stiff   limbs,   rising   to   his   feet,   bones   crackling   and   crunching. He   was   incredibly   tall. His   beard   buried   his   face,   save   for   his   somber   ancient   eyes. “You   have   been   calling   to   me   by   day   and   by   night,   Lara   Midwinter,   and   now   you   have   nothing   to   say?” “I   brought   her,   Arheled.”   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;">             “And   it   was   for   that   very   reason   that   I   told   you   how   to   find   me. Speak   your   sorrow,   Lara   Midwinter.”

<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   my   sister   Lilac?”   Lara   said   harshly.

<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;">             “Lilac   grows   from   the   earth,   and   watches   the   gardens,   but   is   itself   vulnerable   even   as   it   protects. Earth   takes   it,   black   and   darkless   in   the   sweet   and   secret   rock. The   rock   with   eyes   watches   them. The   living   pillar   answers   the   rock. There   is   the   Lilac   held.”

<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…”   stammered   Lara.

<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;">             “She   is   human,   and   yet   means   more than   herself.”   said   Arheled. “Lilac   is   she,   and   as   such   was   she   seized:   one   of   six   who   can   truly   see. The   Lilac,   the   witch,   the   seer   and   the   secular,   and   the   two   fiery   Catholics,   the   Red   and   the   Rogers. The   seventh   is   a   Star. They   wanted   six   of   the   Road,   but   they   are   cowards   and   so   when   the   Children   proved   too   strong   they   went   after   easier   prey.”

<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;">             “Don’t   you   know   where   she   is?”   said   Lara.

<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;">             “She   is   not   upon   the   surface   of   the   Earth,   nor   in   any   place   the   Road   can   see.”   answered   Arheled. “There   is   a   shadow   underneath   the   world. There   is   a   darkness   at   the   Earthheart   that   clouds   my   eyes:   but   I   know   where   the   Seven   Thrones   stand,   and   I   know   that   they   must   bring   her   there   on   the   Samhain   Night,   wherever   they   are   holding   her   now;   and   they   know   that   I   know. We   cannot   find   her   until   then,   Lara.”

<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   mean…we   have   to   leave   her? With   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;">             “She   wears   the   protection   of   the   Church.”   said   Arheled. “The   sacramental   are   upon   her. They   cannot   violate   her,   nor   do   her   any   harm;   nor   touch   her   save   with   great   pain. But   on   that   night   they   will   not   need   to   touch   her.”

<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   have   to   get   her!”   Lara   said   fiercely.

<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   does   not   walk   under   the   earth.”   Arheled   replied. “To   send   it   there   would   be   unwise. Travel   cannot   take   you   there. You   will   need   to   use   another   path.”

<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;">             “Show   us.”   said   Forest. “And   I   at   least   will   go   with   her.”   Lara   gave   him   a   grateful   look.

<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   turned his   towering   frame   and   stalked   stiffly   down   from   the   ring   of   trees,   onto   the   ancient   road. He   was   no   longer   so   tall. “Do   you   know   why   the   Tower   of   the   Tree   was   planted   here,   or   why   it   is    that   I   sit   here   in   this   old   house   until   moss   grows   on   my   form? Do   you   know   why   the   Five   Churches   form   a   ring   in   defence   of   this   valley   and   no   other? It   is   only   in   part   because   of   the   two   valleys,   of   Naugatuck   and   Daslenga,   which   meet   at   Winsted. I   will   show   you   the   reason   why. I   will   raise   the   Gates   of   the   North.”

<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   followed   him   up   the   buried   road   and   out   onto   the   edge   of   Indian   Meadow. It   was   held   in,   they   saw   now,   by   an   earth   rampart,   either   a   small   dike   raised   by   the   farmers   of   old   or   an   ancient   beaver   dam   so   old   it   had   decayed   into   soil,   for   it   curved   along   the   bays   and   coves   of   the   low   rise   where   a   man-made   berm   could   quite   easily   have   cut   across. To   the   left   the   stream   flowed   between   rocks,   notching   the   rise. It   was   grown   with   thin   shrubs   and   raspberry.

<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;">             As   Arheled   strode   out   into   the   swampy   meadow,   a   shuddering   ran   through   the   soft   earth. It   rose. Out   of   the   rushes   a   causeway   was   coming,   reeds   and   mud   sliding   off   of   it,   until   revealed   there   lay   an   ancient   road. Arheled   stalked   up   it,   and   the   children   walked   behind   him,   shoes   slipping   in   the   slimy   earth   that   still   covered   the   unrotted   stones. The   creek   rushed   swiftly   through   the   choking   reeds   of   its’   channel   on   the   left. Slowly   they   advanced   farther   and   farther   along   Indian   Meadow,   until   the   barrier   behind   them   was   a   small   thing,   a   line   dividing   meadow   from   trees. They   could   see   now   that   the   meadow   was   at   its’   narrowest   where   they   had   entered,   at   the   south   end,   slowly   broadening   as   it   drew   north,   until   the   east   shore   ended   in   a   corner   of   old   pines   and   scrub   maple   and   retreated   inward   in   a   great   round   bay,   bending   back   in   a   tangle   of   dark   hemlocks. An   island   marked   by   a   great   lone   pine   stood   on   the   far   corner   of   this   bay,   and   beyond   it   the   open   marshes   merged   into   a   scrub   maple   swamp   across   the   round   head   of   the   Meadow. Beaver   dams   there   inundated   large   areas,   crossing   the   swamp   in   straight   lines. Where   the   long   southern   arm   began,   at   the   mouth   of   this   wider   head,   the   stone   causeway   stopped,   in   the   middle   of   the   swamp.

<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   turned   his   head   to   the   left. Quite   suddenly   Lara   and   Forest   were   standing   on   soggy   deep   grass   at   the   margin   where   the   marsh   met   the   steep   rocky   hill. Bushes   grew   on   the   fringe;   thick   laurel   climbed   the   hill;   in   front   of   them,   half   sunk   in   the   earth,   was   a   skull   of   stone.

<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;">             Or   so   it   looked   at   first   glance. A   rounded   worn   rock,   battered   maybe   by   forgotten   waves   in   the   days   of   some   long-vanished   lake,   three   feet   wide   and   only   a   foot   or   so   above   ground,   two   deep   oblong   hollows   like   wide-set   sallow   eyes   were   eroded   into   its’ marshward   face,   so   that   it   seemed   like   some   stone   head   peering   queerly   above   the   swamp. There   was   a   queer   feel   about   it,   as   if   it   had   once   bee   part   of   some   nameless   idol,   a   feel   of   old   evil   long   past   and   powerless,   but   not   safe   either. Those   eyes….watching…

<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;">             “Follow   the   direction   in   which   it   gazes.”   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;">             The   line   of   the   hollow   empty   gaze   bent   a   little   diagonally,   back   south-eastwards   by   east. Suddenly   they   stood   on   the   margin   of   the   opposite   shore,   amid   deep   yellow   grass   and   creeping   raspberry,   the   densest   tangle   and   greenest   laurel   jungle   even   Forest   had   ever   seen   lying   before   them. Then   they   were   inside   the   laurel,   in   a   gloomy   glade   like   a   circular   tent,   the   laurel   like   a   wall,   kept   back   by   the   shade   of   the   thick,   sweeping   limbs   of   a   huge,   short,   ancient   hemlock.

<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;">             “These   are   the   two   pillars   of   the   secret   way,   the   vanished   gate   that   Morkû   built   to   find   the   broken   evil   and   the   place   of   power.”   said   Arheled. “These   are   the   lintels   of   the   Gates   of   the   North. It   is   this   that   Chaos   will   walk   toward,   and   it   is   this   that   we   must   defend   against   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;">             “Where   do   they   lead?”   Lara   said   in   a   small   voice.

<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   bent   on   her   a   look   so   grim,   and   so   sad,   that   when   he   spoke   all   further   questions   died   within   her.

<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;">             “Utumno.”   he   said.

<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;">             Without   another   word   he   strode   back   down   the   slimy   causeway,   and   Lara   and   Forest,   a   little   startled   at   the   sudden   change   of   scene,   followed   slowly. Neither   felt   any   desire   for   further   knowledge. Lara,   who   had   never   heard   the   name,   felt   a   slight   chill   in   her   very   heart. Forest,   who   knew   the   name,   felt   sick.

<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   will   be   battling   for   every   mile   as   you   go   under   the   earth.”   said   Arheled. “Come   here on   Friday   the   7th,   for   that   is   the   feast   of   Our   Lady   of   the   Rosary;   on   that   day   you   will   begin   your   descent. Four   thousand   miles   you   must   travel   to   the   Earth’s   core. It   will   take   you   all   month   to   descend:   I   will   pack   you   food   that   will   never   run   out,   and   I   will   set   tokens   upon   you   that   will   cleanse   all   airs   you   breathe   and   cool   all   heats   you   pass   through.”

<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   whole   month?”   said   Lara.

<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;">             “Mom’ll   die   of   worry.”   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;">             Arheled   gave   a   sad,   queer   smile. “The   families   of   the   Children   of   the   Road   cannot   be   allowed   to   become   hostages   against   you. I   will   cast   the   Road   upon   them,   to   lie   in   slumber   until   you   return   out   of   the   earth.”

<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’re   not   coming   with   us,   Arheled?”   quavered   Lara.

<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   grim   eyes   of   Arheled   stared   into   hers. Ancient   beyond   the   reckoning   of   men,   queer   and   terrible,   kind   but   not   human,   she   felt   a   sudden   bottomless   fear   of   this   alien   being,   this   entity   that   was   nothing   at   all   like   her. “Do   not   question   what   you   cannot   comprehend,   Starmaiden.”   he   said. “I   am   not   answerable   to   you,   or   to   any   son   of   man. Rest   assured   that   I   am   on   your   side. But   doubt   me   not.”

<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;">             As   suddenly   as   that   they   stood   in   the   library   parking   lot,   beside   Lara’s   car.

<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;">

<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;">

<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;">             Ronnie   heard   a   little   mouse.

<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   sound   made   him   grind   his   teeth. The   only   thing   more   annoying   than   the   sound   of   skittering   behind   the   plasterboard   where   he   couldn’t   reach,   was   a   mosquito   droning   around   inside   his   bedroom. No   sleep   tonight…unless   he   turned   on   his   prepaid   cell   phone   for   flashlight   and   crawled   into   the   attic   and   re-baited   the   old   mousetraps,   and   then   subliminally   willed   the   mice   into   springing   them. As   he   was   doing   this,   the   screen   of   his   phone   went   from   blue   to   red   and   white   letters   told   him   he   had   a   new   voice   mail. Then   the   screen   went   off   after   a   minute   and   he   had   to   press   one   of   the   buttons   to   light   it   up. Of   course,   being   totally   ignorant   of   how   to   navigate   a   cell   phone,   this   button   turned   on   the   camera   and   he   accidentally   took   a   picture   of   his   knee.

<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   he   finally   was   able   to   listen   to   the   message,   he   was   surprised   to   hear   Lara’s   voice. It   sounded   odd   on   the   phone,   but   nobody   else   had   that   soft   swift   clearness   of   tone.

<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;">             “Hi   Ronnie,   it’s   Lara. Call   me   as   soon   as   you   get   this—urgent.”

<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;">             Frowning   Ronnie   glanced   at   the   clock. Good,   it   was   only   9:00,   not   too   late. He   called   the   number. Lara   answered   on   the   second   ring.

<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;">             “Hey   Lara,   it’s   Ronnie.”

<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;">             “Did   you   get   my   message?”   she   said   crisply.

<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   did.”

<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;">             “Well,   I   have   some   news. I   don’t   want   to   waste   your   minutes,   but   Forest   took   me   to   the   house   of   Arheled. Up   by   Indian   Meadow.”

<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;">             “Indian   Meadow.”   mused   Ronnie. “Right   below   Losaw   Rd…where   the   first   appearance   of   the   Wild   Man   is   recorded. No   wonder.”

<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;">             “Yes,   well,   Arheled   showed   us   why   Winsted   is   so   important. It   is   the   opening   of   the   Gates   of   the   North. We   must   go   to   Arheled   tomorrow,   Oct. 7th. All   of   us. Pack   for   a   trip.”

<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;">             “Call   Travel.”   said   Ronnie.

<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;">

<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;">

<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;">             Oct. 7th   dawned   cold   at   first—the   past   two   mornings   there   had   been   frosts—but   grew   quickly   warmer,   although   still   crisp   and   cool. Actual   color   was   appearing   in   the   trees   as   the   swamp   maples   darkened   a   deep   orange-yellow   and   a   few   scarlet   reds;   on   the   hills   the   pines   stood   out   a   deep   dark   green   amid   seas   of   orange-yellow   and   oak-green. Travel   appeared   at   Ronnie’s   house—inside   the   house,   while   he   was   eating   breakfast,   and   full of   blushes   and   giggles   excused   herself. “I’m   sorry! I   meant   to   land   outside! I   forgot   to   think   of   your   front   door   and   I   just   said   ‘Ronnie’!”

<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;">             “One   of   these   days   you’ll   land   in   somebody’s   bathroom.”   he   said   dryly. “You’ll   have to   wait   a   sec   while   I   get   ready. Should   I   bring   anything?”

<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   don’t   know;   Forest   seems   to   think   we’re   going   somewhere,   so   pack   for   a   hike. Him   and   Bell   are   eating   breakfast,   but   Lara’s   dressed   and   waiting. Brooke   is   in   the   shower. I’ll   take   everybody   to   my   yard   first. Be   back   in   a   little!”   A   blue   light   grew   around   her   and   she   sort   of   imploded   into   it,   and   was   gone.

<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;">             “She’s   good.”   remarked   Ronnie   to   the   air.

<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   was   ready   when   she   reappeared,   having   taken   a   hat,   a   coat   with   a   scarf   sewn   onto   it,   and   both   a   sweater   and   a   short-sleeve   shirt,   as   well   as   a   water   bottle   and   the   omnipresent   backpack. The   blue   light   took   him,   and   the   strange   shapes   and   phantoms   swirled   around   him,   and   then   they   appeared   beside   the   pond   at   the   Lane   house. The   swamp maples   were   turning   deep   red   and   rumpled   orange-red,   and   the   winterberry   belt   glowed   deep   green   and   red   with   the   abundant   berries.

<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   Lane   house   is   well-protected   this   year.”   said   Ronnie.

<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;">             Lara,   looking   harassed   and   nervous,   merely   nodded. Bell   was   in   jeans   and   a   blue   sweater. Forest   wore   brown   corduroy   pants   and   a   grey   shirt   with   a   dull   green   jacket,   and   seemed   more   insignificant   and   hard-to-see   than   ever. Brooke,   her   hair   dark   wet   and   brushed,   was   still   pulling   on   her   own   black   turtleneck   sweater. Her   stonewashed   jeans   were   tight-fitting   and   glowed   blue   amid   the   soft   dewy   woods. Travel’s   dark   hair   looked   unkempt   but   pretty.

<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;">             “Everyone   ready?”   said   Travel.

<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.”   said   Forest. Everyone   turned   and   looked   at   him. “It.”   His   mouth   worked   a   little   but   nothing   came   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;">             “It   what?”   Bell   prodded,   an   amused   but   oddly   tender   smile   on   her   face. “It   itted?”

<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;">             “Uh.”

<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   has   this   bad   habit   of   completing   his   sentences   in   his   head.”   Bell   explained   lightly. “Sometimes   I   have   to   bop   him   until   he   says   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;">             “Hey!”   growled   Forest. “I   was!”

<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   he   goes   again.”

<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’s   all   right.”   said   Ronnie. “He   says   the   house   is   hidden,   and   you   won’t   be   able   to   find   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;">             Now   everyone   turned   to   look   at   Ronnie. “Did   you   just   read   his   mind?”   demanded   Lara.

<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;">             Ronnie   gave   a   terse   nod. “My   power   is   to   reveal.”   he   said. “Thoughts   seem   to   be   falling   under   that   heading. When   I   meet   your   eyes,   I   can   hear   what   you   say   before   you   say   it. And   yes,   Lara,   I   smell   moldy.”

<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’m   gonna   throw   something   at   him.”   muttered   Lara.

<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;">             “Not   a   snowball   down   my   neck,   please.”

<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;">             Lara   choked. “You   weren’t   joking.”

<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;">             Ronnie   nodded. “Tell   us,   Forest,”   he   said,   “how   is   the   house   of   Arheled   hidden? And   how   do   we   reach   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;">             “With   this.”   said   Forest,   reaching   into   his   pocket. He   held   in   his   hand   a   small   black   paintbrush.

<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;">             Moving   almost   too   fast   to   see,   the   boy’s   hands   flashed   about   through   the   air   before   him;   and   where   his   brush   passed,   light   lay   upon   the   air,   until   in   half   a   minute   a   picture   stood   before   them   like   a   window. Indistinct   of   detail   but   clear   of   image   like   an   Impressionist   painting,   the   dark   ancient   pines   and   moldy   ancient   cabin   stood   before   them. And   Ronnie   knew   he   had   seen   that   house   before.

<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;">             “Take   us   to   that,   Travel.”   he   said.

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<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   painting   grew   solid   and   expanded   into   reality   before   them. A   different   smell   met   them,   damp     and   muddy   and   forest-leaf-mouldy   as   well,   and   a   queer   sour   odor   of   must   and   rot   from   the   cabin. Arheled   stood   like   a   graven   statue   before the   tarnished   door;   Ronnie’s   sharp   eyes   noticed   the   frost   on   his   coat,   and   also   that   some   of   the   mysterious   letters   on   the   door   were   in   Elven-script,   but   others   were   utterly   unknown.

<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;">             “Well   done.”   Arheled   said   to   them. He   stirred   and   frost   fell   in   silver   dust   from   his   coat. “Are   you   ready?”

<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;">             “Ready   for   what,   sir?”   said   Ronnie.

<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;">             “To   enter   the   Gates   of   the   North.”

<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;">             Lara   gasped   slightly. Forest’s   eyes   widened. But   Ronnie   only   said,   “Sir,   I   do   not   know   these   gates.”

<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;">             Arheld   lifted   one   hand   and   pointed. The   hemlock   drew   back   with   an   apologetic   sweeping   of   branches,   and   Indian   Meadow   lay   before   them,   silver   and   brown   with   the   frost. A   faint   layered   mist   hung   over   the   ground   at   the   far   end   like   a   white   band. Though   the   far   hills   were   bright   with   gold   from   the   early   sun,   the   Meadow   and   the   pines   to   the   right   were   still   in   shade.

<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;">             Ground   and   marsh   trembled   underfoot. Reed   split   and   mud   slumped   to   left   and   right   of   a   line   sundering   the   marsh,   and   up   from   the   swampy   earth   the   causeway   rose,   a   stone   road   from   forgotten   times   extending   out   to   the   middle   of   the   marsh. Arheled   walked   out   upon   the   slimy   road,   and   the   Children   of   the   Road   followed   him   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;">             “Before   the   Men   of   the   Sea   returned   into   these   lands   and   sailed   up   the   rivers,   the   Morkû   came,   and   they   felt   the   power   in   this   land,   and   they   used   the   Road   itself   and   mingled   it   with   forgotten   magic   and   their   own   ancient   power,   and   they   drove   a   hole   through   Reality   itself   and   the   very   fabric   of   Creation,   seeking   to   find   the   place   long   broken   and   the   doors   of   darkness. And   they   found   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;">             “What   did   they   find?”   said   Ronnie   Wendy.

<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   found   the   Gates   of   Hell.”   answered   Arheled. “They   found   Utumno.”

<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   place   was   broken!”   Ronnie   whispered. “Destroyed! It   is   gone!”

<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   was   broken,   but   not   unmade.”   said   Arheled. “The   Valar   thought   they   had   rendered   it   safe,   and   in   the   ancient   wars   of   the   Powers   those   lands   were   smashed   under   the   Sea,   and   the   World   was   Bent,   and   they   forgot   it,   deeming   it   consumed   by   the   changes   of   time. But   in   the   buried   waters,   under   the   sea   of   ice   at   the   roof   of   the   earth,   the   forgotten   ruins,   the   unshattered   pits,   still   there   lie,   and   still   there   wait:   the   entrance   of   the   underworld,   the   gateways   of   desolation,   the   place   of   horror. I   do   not   walk   there. The   Road   cannot   break   them,   for   to   do   so   would   be   to   break   in   sunder   Hell   itself. But   it   can   conceal   them. Mortals   cannot   stumble   there,   nor   scientists   uncover   their   secrets   of   peril. So   I   deemed   it   hid,   until   using   my   own   Road   the   Morkû   breached   my   secrets   and   penetrated   to   the   place   I   had   concealed. Only   the   Gates   of   the   North   go   there   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;">             “Couldn’t   you   break   the   Gates?”

<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;">             “Weren’t   you   listening?”   said   Arheled. “They   were   made   in   the   power   of   the   Road,   and   the   Road   cannot   break   itself. So   I   made   the   Tower   of   the   Tree   to   guard   it,   and   when   the   Tower   fell,   the   Road   wove   into   being   the   Wild   Man   of   Winsted,   and   we   drove   away   the   magicians,   nor   did   they   find   their   Gate   again.”

<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   the   end   of   the   causeway. “I   will   not   send   you   through   the   mouths   of   Hell. You   will   walk   by   other   paths   underneath   the   earth. They   have   found   other   victims   to   fill   the   Seven   Thrones. They   will   not   bring   them   there   until   Samhain   Night   itself,   not   all   of   them;   you   must   be   there   on   that   night,   and   you   must   free   them,   for   if   you   do   not   then   they   will   be   consumed   and   Chaos   will   rise   incarnate   on   the   earth.”

<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   aren’t   coming.”   stated   Ronnie.

<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   slowly   inclined   his   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;">             “Why   are   you   not   coming?”

<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   you   challenge   me,   Hill   of   the   Road?”   said   Arheled   softly.

<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;">             “Yes,   I   challenge   you.”   Ronnie   answered. “We   do   not   have   the   strength to   fight   the   Foes   all   at   once. I   challenge   you   to   tell   us   why   you   send   us   to   our   deaths.”

<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;">             “Because   I   cannot   come.”   Arheled   said   quietly. “But   you   bear   within   you   both   the   Road   and   the   Church—aye,   even   you   Protestants,   for   you   share   Baptism   and   honor   Christ,   and   in   this   peril   that   is   enough—and   so   you   are   able   to   descend   where   the   Great   cannot   go. My   reasons   are   my   own. My   motives   are   my   own. Suffice   it   to   say   that   I   send   you,   and   that   is   enough.”

<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   we   go,   then,   unarmed?”   said   Ronnie.

<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   one   goes   unarmed   from   the   house   of   Arheled.”   he   answered. “Look   upon   your   hands. Do   you   see   those   stains   that   wind   up   from   your   wrists? They   are   not   cute   little   curly   dragon   tattoos. They   are   weapons   of   the   Stars. In   your   packs   are   tin   pails,   which   you   will   find   full   at   mealtimes,   and   water   bottles   that   never   run   dry. Did   you   notice   that   you   all   wear   cloaks,   that   have   the   virtue   of   keeping   air   around   you   though   you   be   cast   into   a   void,   though   the   air   you   walk   through   be   only   poison? Blades   cannot   enter   their   fabric,   and   they   are   good   as   armour. Look   upon   your   feet:   your   shoes   will   keep   you   from   all   heat,   even   lava;   nor   will   they   break   or   burn,   and   they   send   endurance   to   the   body. Now   I   will   call   awake   the   Gates.”

<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   held   out   both   arms   like   a   cross. Beams   of   white-blue   light   rayed   out   from   them. Far   away   on   the   left,   the   eyes   of   the   stone   head   sunk   in   the   earth   glowed   in   answer. Far   away   on   the   right,   the   short   thick   hemlock   burst   into   light. Up   out   of   the   earth,   they   could   see   as   if   they   were   close,   a   stone   figure   was   rising,   mud   and   wet   earth   falling   from   it,   the   stone   head   riding   triumphant   on   its’   shoulders. It   had   an   evil   look. There   was   laughter   in   the   wide   eroded   eyes. The   figure   rose,   and   after   it   rose   a   stone   pedestal,   square   and   stained   with   uncounted   ages   of   water,   and   mud   and   slime;   and   then   with   a   tremendous   boom   like   an   ancient   bar   clicking   into   place,   it   stopped,   the   head   now   on   a   level   with   the   broken   top   of   the   glowing   hemlock. A   ray   of   red   light   sprang   from   statue   to   tree,   and   with   a   sizzling   hiss   sent   a   vertical   beam   onto   the   stone   road,   and   that   beam   widened   into   a   door   of   red   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;">             “Down.” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   the   voice   of   Arheled   rang   from   hill   to   hill. ''“Send   them   whom   I   consign   to   thee   upon   the   Way   of   the   Buried   City,   as   deep   as   thou   canst   reach.” ''

<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   gateway   sizzled   again. Slowly   it   tilted   until   it   was   angled   like   a   cellar   doorway,   and   there   showed   in   the   red   light   a   stairway   of   stone.

<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;">             “Go   forth,   my   children,   in   the   name   of   the   Road.”   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;">             A   chill   breeze   stirred   their   cloaks   as   they   stepped   out   of   the   living   world   and   onto   the   gleaming   stairs. Behind   them   like   a   window   they   saw   the   autumn   sky,   the   cool   blue-white   of   morning,   and   the   glowing   form   of   Arheled   bright   against   it;   and   then   the   window   closed,   and   the   red   light   was   gone,   and   they   stood   upon   the   stair   into   the   center   of   the   earth.

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