The Forest of Peldain

“Our experiences,” he said, standing before the haggard-faced men, “have been so terrible that few would believe them. What we have come through has never been endured by any Arelian before. But those of us who stand here have come through it, and while we remember our fallen comrades, we can take pride in our achievement. Our thoughts now must be for the future. We are promised that the worst is over, and that from now on there will be only human foes to fight, if any.”

He paused, looking over the group of warriors, no more than troop-sized. In the eyes of nearly all he saw the same silent question. We were supposed to be an invasion force. How do we conquer now, being so few?

“After such disasters there can be no guarantee that any of us will see home again,” he continued. “New adventures await us, in a land none of our kin has ever seen. Put your trust in Irkwele, and behave, as you have behaved, like warriors of King Krassos!”

One by one the four pods were lowered into the water and held fast while the men clambered aboard, Vorduthe, Korbar and Octrago taking their places in the leading pod. Then they were cast off together and maneuvered to the middle of the fairly fast-moving, but rather narrow river.

Vorduthe marveled at how well the pods performed as boats, standing upright in the current by virtue of their heavy spines and proving easy to control by the ship-wise Arelians. The rim of the pod in which he sat had been cut back to make the structure more open. Some interior excrescences had also been cut away, leaving the inner surface dotted with knots and lumps, some of them serviceable as seats. There were also signs of what could have been dead veins and slit-like lips—the remains, perhaps, of the knot’s original purpose as both mouth and stomach.

Swiftly the current bore the boats on; there was no need to do much more than hold them steady. The little flotilla was swept beyond the oasis of infertility and past overgrown banks, past surrounding jungle that grew ever more lush. To begin with the men shrank behind the protection of the pods’ sides, afraid of the towering trees which soon completely overhung the stream. Occasionally there would be a flurry of branches nearby, a lunge of lance or wriggle of danglecup, but the boats moved too fast to make an easy target for the vegetable predators and Octrago, sitting upright in the prow of the leading craft, paid them absolutely no heed.

Vorduthe peered into the water, curious to know what fish or other creatures might dwell there. The water was very clear; he saw a bottom of sand and pebble across which strands of light green weed ran. There were no fish; only some lizard-like things with vertical knife-edge tails and long toothed jaws. They were about the size of Vorduthe’s forearm.

“Don’t put your hand in the water,” Octrago said with a smile, noticing his interest. “They’ll have the flesh off it in moments.”

The Arelian commander settled back in his place. The trees had joined far overhead, blotting out the darkening sky. Then it became evident that the riverside bushes were growing closer together, forming a continuous hedge which reached ever taller. Peering ahead, Vorduthe saw that the river entered what appeared to be a tunnel.

The tunnel was, in fact, formed of the bushes, which finally overreached the stream to form a curved, matted roof. This, probably was the protection Octrago had spoken of. In gray gloom the boats plunged into the winding corridor, whose coolness and silence, apart from the rippling of the water, created a soothingly enclosed feeling. Sometimes one could glimpse shadowy shapes through the thicket and tangle that roofed the waterway, but mostly it grew ever denser. The forest began to seem a distant threat.

For what Vorduthe guessed might be three to five leevers they wound their quiet way. The sun went down. Of Thelessa’s bright starlight little filtered through the forest’s foliage and less still through the matted vegetation that made up the natural tube through which the boats rode. Vorduthe was asked for permission to light brands, but Octrago held up a staying hand. “Not yet,” he said. “We are not completely blind. We shall need them for later.”

Gradually their eyes grew accustomed to the near-darkness. Vorduthe could see those around him as vague shapes.

“The current is becoming sluggish, my lord,” a serpent harrier said suddenly.

It was true. The boat had drifted near the left bank and had slowed down. Soon it veered crosswise to the direction of the river and scarcely moved at all.

Octrago took a firebrand from the pile in the bottom of the canoe and after several tries it lit with the flint he carried. He held the slowly crackling flame aloft.