Amidst his tangled emotions was a sense of dread. He was worried about Hettie. What was she doing? Where was she? Was she safe? There were too many questions to answer. More than anything else, he wanted answers. He did not want explanations or excuses. He wanted to know the truth. He wanted certainty before he chose.
The spirits of Silvandom heard his troubled thoughts. There were many in the forest. They were aware of him, listening to his troubled feelings, his conflicting thoughts. He felt their presence all around him like gossamer butterflies, attracted to his intensely personal feeling of doom.
“You’re deep in thought,” said Reeder. “I was a little surprised you chose to come with me this morning.”
“I hope to find answers,” said Annon. “Is that so strange?”
Reeder chuckled. He pointed into the mist. “There are always answers. Some we do not like. Some we are not ready for. But looking for them is good all the same.”
It was difficult judging when dawn had actually broken. The mist blocked the rising sun, causing the light to gradually grow. Annon was not sure of the moment when he realized that it was day, but the details around him grew sharper. The lush green trees, the dewy grass, the chittering of insects. Before he knew it, he realized it was dawn. Somehow it just happened.
“How far is it?” asked Annon. “How long will it take us to get there?”
“It will take most of the day,” answered Reeder. “The place we are going is on the far, far fringe of the woods. If we are lucky, we should get there before dusk.” Reeder pointed to a shimmering spiderweb. “Do you see that?”
“What kind of spirit is it?” asked Annon.
“I don’t know, but isn’t it beautiful? There’s so much about these woods I’m still learning. I miss Wayland. Of course I do. There are many different kinds of life here in Silvandom. There are creatures I’ve never even dreamed of.” He sighed. Then he gave Annon an arch look. “The most dangerous spirits, they say, are up north. In the Scourgelands. That even to look at one is to die.”
“Do you think I trust my uncle that much?”
“It is your feelings I distrust more. You’ve always been an angry lad, Annon. It makes me worry about you.”
The trees surrounding them changed from slender giants to red maples that swayed gently with the breeze. The smell of the forest was mesmerizing. There were plants that Annon had never seen before. Trailing behind them was the big cat Nizeera. Annon had almost forgotten about her, so quiet did she move. They walked for a long time in silence, watching the colors of the forest shift as they entered a new domain populated with different plants and spirits.
A burst of light suddenly exploded in front of them. It was a spirit, frantic and throbbing tense feelings of urgency. It hung in the air, buzzing in front of their faces like a hummingbird.
Come, Druidecht! You are needed! Come with haste! Haste! Follow me!
Reeder held up his hand, trying to calm the frantic creature. “What is it, friend? Tell us.”
The spirit zoomed away through the woods, leaving a shimmering trail of dust. They could hear its frantic screech as it raced back the way it came, the dust-motes of magic starting to descend like hoarfrost from the air. Annon and Reeder looked at each other and then plunged into the woods after it, caught up in the emotion it had summoned inside of them.
They ran as best they could. Annon was younger and more healthy, but he stayed near his friend and followed the disappearing trail left in the spirit’s wake. Annon’s heart pounded with the exertion of their pace, but the creature’s emotions compelled them forward. It was a warning of the imminent death of another creature, another spirit.
“Do you see that?” Annon asked, pointing ahead. A flurry of activity was going on up ahead in the trees. Spirits dashed this way and that, leaving streamers of magic as they raced and circled the scene. Sparks exploded in small puffs as spirit magic attacked violently. There were noises, voices thick with a guttural language. And then there was the unmistakable sound of an ax biting into bark.
“Boeotians!” Reeder gasped, both from surprise and lack of air. He staggered to rest, catching himself on a tree. “How can they be this far into the woods?”
Annon realized that the shape of the woods had suddenly changed, going from tall proud red maples to twisted oaks. It was the dense array of knotted branches that blocked the full scene, but Annon could see enough as a giant of a man stood next to an ancient oak; his muscles rippled. He took another hard swing, blasting away fragments of wood.
There were others present as well, waving smoky torches in the air. The smell of smoke had not drifted far before another attack of spirits came amidst it and exploded in little puffs. Annon realized that the spirits were dying from the smoke.
“No!” Reeder said, staring at the scene in bafflement. Then his face flooded with anger and he charged forward. “No! Noooo!”