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“So,” I continue, “we’ll wait if Taria needs longer to rest. She was the reason we all escaped Mulgath’s clutches last night. Even you must see that, Natharius.”
Natharius doesn’t respond. The Prince of Pride is far too arrogant to admit that a priestess might be a worthwhile ally.
“If Taria is too weak,” Juron calls over, “I’ll carry her until she has recovered.”
“Then it’s settled,” I declare, “we leave immediately.”
Juron gives a quick nod and heads over to Taria. He nudges her arm, and it takes several minutes before she wakes. Though he offers to carry her, Taria insists she’s well enough to walk. She claims her strength is restored, but I’m certain her golden eyes are a shade fainter than usual.
Once we’ve had something to eat and I’ve fed Zephyr aether crystals, we gather our belongings and leave the hall. Since the fortress sits atop a hill high above the gnarled trees, the sun’s rays are free to shine down on us. We pass swiftly through the courtyard, none of us having any desire to linger. I didn’t notice last night, but various statues stand around the courtyard. All are orcs, depicted in armor so heavy that if they were real, I doubt they could move. These statues must have stood for centuries, seeing how weather-worn they are. Some are broken, missing limbs and heads.
“Was this once the Lich Lord’s fortress?” I ask Natharius, looking at the statue nearest us. This stone orc is missing an arm.
“It was.”
“Then why build statues of orcs? He was a mage before becoming a lich. Unless Mulgath had these statues built?”
“They were here long before Mulgath. And the Lich Lord as well. This region was once part of Jektar before the undead tainted it.”
I stare at the armless statue for a moment longer before continuing across the courtyard.
Though the morning rays shine gloriously upon the courtyard, these corridors are cast in darkness. Only the pale, flickering orbs illuminate our way through the shadowy maze. Though the fortress is now devoid of undead, it doesn’t make these corridors any less foreboding. Zephyr crawls up my arm and wraps himself around my shoulders.
Our hurried footsteps echo around us, bouncing off the dark walls. I would mutteriluminosto conjure a brilliant orb of aether, but I don’t want to use up more magic than necessary. I don’t know how long it will be before we reach Gerazad, and whether I’ll have the chance to replenish my magic. I must reserve all I have.
Eventually, the maze of dark corridors brings us to the fortress’s gates. They’re shut, like we left them.
Natharius steps forth, shadows swirling in his hands. With his back facing me, I can see the injury on his shoulder. Though his flesh isn’t fully mended, dark magic no longer oozes out of the wound.
Wordlessly, he unleashes his magic upon the fortress’s gates. The shadowy vortex rushes forth, slamming into them. They shudder and burst open, flying from their hinges. With the intensity of the blast, I fear the shoddy stone bridge ahead might also be damaged.
Fortunately, when I step beyond the gates, I see that the bridge isn’t any more ruined than when we entered the fortress last night.
Though I’m wary of crossing the bridge, I have no desire to linger inside the fortress. Especially not alone. I hurry across the bridge, not daring to look down into the dark chasm.
The rest of the way out of the fortress is a sharp incline downhill. Our pace is brisk, and the Ghost Wood’s murky haze soon descends on us. Toward the bottom of the hill, the trees tower over us again, their gnarled branches banishing all sunlight. Finally, the fallen archway greets us, marking the end of the fortress. I only spare the ominous spires behind us a momentary glance before passing beneath the fallen archway.
We press onward through the trees, saying very little to each other as we walk. Though we’ve rested in the fortress, it seems everyone is weary. Either that, or everyone is so anxious to escape the Ghost Woods they don’t dare to waste their breath on words.
Perhaps it’s my imagination, but the trees somehow seem less eerie. I no longer have the same prickling sensation that we’re being watched. Maybe Mulgath’s eyes were on us from the very moment we entered the Ghost Woods, and that was how he found the opportunity to capture Juron. Maybe the wisps were even in league with him.
Still, I don’t lower my guard. Though we’ve already defeated two enemies inside these woods, I don’t know whether any others lurk amid the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The sooner we reach the other side of the Ghost Woods, the better. We can’t afford another delay. The odds against us are already close to impossible.
Despite the futility of our plan, we have no choice but to keep putting one foot after another and pray the Ghost Woods will soon end. That we will somehow reach Gerazad before Arluin and his necromancers. Because if we don’t, the Lich Lord will be one step closer to unleashing his wrath upon Imyria.
And Father will remain shackled to Arluin’s will for eternity.
thirty-three
Itisn’tuntilthefollowing afternoon that we put the last of the Ghost Woods behind us. Without the dense canopy of gnarled branches overhead, the sun is free to shine down on us with all its radiance. The suffocating shadows fade with the sinister trees, and I find I can breathe easily again.
Beyond the Ghost Woods, more aether hums in the air, and its presence brings me comfort. The wind is no longer frigid, and the sun warms us as we traipse across Jektar’s sprawling plains, though the temperature isn’t scorching like in Selynis and seems closer to what I’m used to back home in Nolderan. I’m not sure whether this is typical for the rest of Jektar, however, since it’s an extensive region which spreads far to the east and we’re currently at its western border.
We walk onward across the grassy plains, and the Ghost Woods grow fainter until it vanishes. The sun sinks in the horizon, dusky hues streaking through the sky, and before long darkness descends on us.
We continue for most of the night, the twinkling stars illuminating our path. Only when the moon is long past its apex do we stop for the night, much to Natharius’s annoyance. He doesn’t protest about us taking a break, but his expression alone is evidence of his opinion.
Though the sun was warm while walking today, the air has since cooled considerably. The twins gather firewood and I use the spellignisto ignite it, and then we all huddle around the campfire. Except for Natharius, that is. He sits away from us, gazing at the moon.
