The Forked Path

Chapter 3

3

The shadowed world drifted by; now and then a bright flash of life illuminated the grey fog, the sign of an animal too foolish to heed the unnatural silence of the forest. Some were ignored, spared and left shivering in the sudden cold that seemed to drop over them from the sky. Others were not so fortunate. They flashed briefly as he touched them, their final memories filling his vision as their life burned out in the cold depths.

The voice of the Tangle spoke to him as he went, the whisper clearer in this form, though his conscious mind was too distant to understand its words. Its heavy, ancient voice rumbled through his core, the burning flashes of life and deep silent pools of shadow adding to the strange language he swam through.

He forgot all else, letting the voice of the Tangle carry him onward, deep into its heart and out the other side, the air warmer now, thick with a jungle scent. The flashes of life became more frequent. He found his pace slowing as he allowed the endless hunger that swirled within him try to sate itself, but no matter how many times he let himself turn from the path, no matter how many bright flashes of terror and sudden silence he encountered, the hunger stayed the same. Always turning, an endless whirlpool roaring within him, too deep to ever be filled, to ever be contained. There could be nothing else.

Wilt.

The grey trees shot past, each shape the same as the last. Even the voice of the Tangle seemed muffled and distant now, lost in the depths.

Wilt. Stop this.

He could spend eternity haunting these shadows, snuffing out any life he found. He could become death itself, and still nothing would change. Nothing would alter the flow of the great vortex surging within him.

At the edge of his vision a small glowing spark drifted, catching his eye, leading his mind back from its contemplation of the dizzying brink.

Wilt. Come back.

That voice. He knew that voice. It wasn’t the Tangle; it was a part of him. Within him. He was human.

Wilt.

Higgs.

The grey world bled away and Wilt found himself standing in a small forest clearing, the flickering sunlight glowing down through small breaks in the tree cover, reflecting off tiny mites of dust that floated back and forth in the fresh breeze. He took a deep breath, his first in days.

Well, it’s about time. We were beginning to worry.

Biore? How … how long have I been gone?

Too long, boy. Days at least. Far too long for any to spend in the shadow realm. Any who still wish to return. It was only through Rawick that we could lead you back at all.

Rawick. Wilt saw again the spark floating past his vision, dancing before his eyes, leading him away from the sucking depths.

I … I asked him to help find you. I think he understood me.

Delco. I saw him, I think. At least, some manifestation of him. He helped me—

Helped you back from the edge, from the lure of that which turns in the depths of the welds, that which calls all of those who draw on its powers. You lost control of your hunger, and it led you away. It is much stronger in that form. I should know.

Yes, Biore.

Perhaps we should take things a little slower now. It was foolish to go as far as we did, especially here. This forest shares an ancient connection with that which lurks beneath—you can feel it in the air itself. The stillness and silence. We will need to be more careful.

Besides, we’ve travelled a long way. Look around, even the trees are different here. We’re near the southern edge of the forest, I believe.

Biore was right. As Wilt looked around, he realised he was in a whole new world from the one he had last seen. Great pines no longer towered above him; now thick vines twisted around themselves to form a jungle of vegetation, a solid green wall that funnelled him down a thin forest trail out of the small clearing. The air smelled different, heavy with moisture and heat, sticking his shirt to his back. He slung off his worn old cloak and dropped it to the ground.

Won’t be needing that anymore.

Above him the trees still closed off the sky, reaching out to wrap their branches around each other in a protective shell, only allowing the smallest slivers of sunlight to leak through. The forest floor was thick with rotting leaves, the cloying scent of death undercutting the fresh breeze that forced its way through the walls of vegetation around him. Even the sounds of the forest here were different, louder. More filled with life.

A human voice called out, followed by the sound of something heavy moving through the undergrowth, and suddenly the cat was high above the clearing, perched on a thick branch, peering down into the space where Wilt had stood a moment before.

‘You could at least try to move more quietly,’ a gruff voice called from further down the path. A soldier appeared under the cat’s tree and stopped when he saw Wilt’s cloak lying on the ground. ‘Emaus! Look at this!’ The man crouched down and examined the ground around the cloak as his companion huffed into the clearing.

‘What is it, Gul?’

‘What’s it look like? Someone’s been through here.’ Gul picked up the cloak and weighed it in his hands. ‘Still feels warm.’

Emaus stood panting, resting his hand on his sword hilt, peering around the clearing. ‘Well, you’re the tracker, Gul. What does the trail tell you?’

Gul was still examining the ground around the discarded cloak. ‘I don’t know, it’s strange.’ He walked further into the clearing then turned around again. ‘There are footprints, but they appear out of nowhere, then disappear again just as suddenly. Into thin air.’

Gul stood back up and both men drew their swords.

‘Do you think—?’ Emaus’s voice was no longer gruff. It was almost a whisper.

‘I don’t know. There have been no sightings this far south before.’

‘But the others—’

‘The others haven’t seen anything either. It’s all been vague reports of strange sounds, sudden cold. Soldiers with loose tongues making each other nervous.’

‘This cloak though.’

‘It’s just a cloak.’ Gul bundled it up and wrapped it under his arm. ‘C’mon, we’ll have to report this. Keep your eyes open.’

He turned on his heel and marched out of the clearing, back down the path from which they’d appeared. Emaus followed, his eyes still scanning the surrounding trees, as if he expected an attack at any moment. Neither man sheathed their sword.

The cat watched the humans disappear back into the forest, the sounds of their movement fading into the general jungle hum.

Careless.

I know, Biore.

Wilt landed lightly back on the ground and stared down the path the two men had taken.

They were guards.

Soldiers. From the capital, to judge by their uniforms.

From Sontair? But we’re still miles from there, aren’t we?

Yes. Something big must have happened to bring them this far into the Tangle.

Wilt still stared down the path. He felt a sudden rush of loneliness and for a mad moment considered calling after them. Just to have another human voice to talk to. There was something else there too. A deeper craving, waiting to be acknowledged.

Don’t be foolish.

They were nervous. As though they were expecting something. Something bad.

Maybe we haven’t been careful enough, in our other form. Too rushed. Too eager.

No. They weren’t thinking about us. It might be wise to follow them, find out more before we stumble further into trouble. Soldiers from Sontair patrolling this far into the Tangle must be looking for something.

Or someone.

Come. Let us see what we can learn. Wilt, perhaps your cat form would be most appropriate.

With that the conversation ended, and the cat trotted out of the clearing, down the forest path, following the scent of the two soldiers. The wind brushed through the trees, whispering its secrets as it went.