The Forest of Peldain

Once the strut he had left came out under a warrior’s foot and the luckless fellow plunged, nearly dragging his companions with him. But the climb was neither long nor difficult, and at the top Octrago found a ragged pathway that wound up the steep mountainside.

In places the trail, while mostly natural, looked as if it had been cut artificially. From now on the ascent became a simple hard slog, punctuated by occasional climbs or sometimes scrambles over masses of rock which barred the way. The air grew cold and frequently they were obliged to pause for rest.

By late evening they had reached a saddleback ridge between two peaks and were able to look down on both sides of the mountain range. To the south was the plain, with its naked reclining female—smaller and barely visible in the dusk—and the dark viridescence of the forest.

Vorduthe looked eagerly down the northern slope, hoping for his first glimpse of inhabited Peldain. The view was swathed in mist, in which it was difficult to make out anything. The trail they had followed continued, becoming a ledge on initially sheer cliffs. After that, the slope was gentler and considerably more negotiable than that they had come by.

Dusk was quickly enveloping everything below. “To continue after dark would be foolishly dangerous,” Octrago said, “even though the exertion would help keep us warm. We’ll settle ourselves here. It means a cold night for us, I’m afraid.”

“Well, at least the downward path looks easy enough,” Korbar remarked. “Shall we reach our journey’s end tomorrow? And if we do, what then?”

“I am afraid we have not yet finished climbing.”

Octrago pointed to the nearest westward peak, a craggy monolith whose shadow was now falling over them. “We have to make our way farther along the range before it is safe to descend. The route is a bit difficult. But don’t worry, we don’t need to go as high as the snow line.”

Korbar stared at him in stupefaction. “This is ridiculous!” he exploded. “The way down is clear before us! Furthermore, this is a route that has clearly been used before!”

“That is only how it appears,” Octrago said, mildly but firmly. “The route I have chosen is in fact the easier.”

A long pause followed. “That requires explanation,” Vorduthe said edgily.

“Very well,” Octrago replied, in an equable tone. “The truth is that we have not left the forest behind us yet. It surges round the east limb of this mountain range and though you cannot see it, it lies directly below. The path you think so simple and easy leads directly into a deep forest vale—one of the deepest. You know what that means.”

“Then we can descend, and make our way along the mountain range at a lower level but still above the tree line,” Korbar insisted.

Octrago shook his head. “Not possible.”

Korbar tensed. Around them, the men were opening their leaf-packs, gulping water and biting into the refreshing fruit, and sharing their rations with those who had lost theirs during the climb. Korbar was breaking an unspoken rule by arguing in front of them like this, but Vorduthe could see he was repressing an inner rage.

At last his feelings broke through. “I know that you have lied to us, misled us, pretended to know what you do not know. Why do you wish to direct us away from what is obviously the better path? Perhaps it is simply that you have not yet killed enough of us. Perhaps you want to arrange for what few of us remain to fall to our deaths—just what is it you do want, King Askon Octrago?”

“A kingdom,” Octrago replied simply.

Korbar turned on his heel. He walked to the edge of the northern escarpment and stood there, staring into the gathering darkness.

He turned his head as Vorduthe joined him, and spoke low but quickly. “In my view we have only one real choice, my lord. We should put Octrago to death and proceed as we ourselves think fit. He will only lead us to fresh disasters.”

“You are still convinced he doesn’t know what he is doing?”

“I am.”

“Then what reason could he have for taking us by the harder route? It makes no sense.”

“Perhaps he needs no reason. Perhaps he is a madman. In any case he is lying to us. I feel it.”

“Clearly he has some knowledge of the region, while we have none,” Vorduthe said placatingly. “In our ignorance, we are forced to trust him—though I grant suspicion comes naturally.”

Korbar merely grunted. Vorduthe walked back to the main group. His warriors had been eyeing the exchange with interest.

“Which way do we go, my lord?” asked one with a grin.

“We go the way our guide directs,” answered Vorduthe, and gestured to the mountain.

No one questioned his word. The men were relaxed, knowing that nothing they faced now could be as bad as what they had already survived.