Chapter 1

Brynn stood in front of the Fence. It was a simple wooden structure that surrounded the village. Faded runes were carved on each of the posts, similar to the ones he saw on the statue in the village square. The whole thing was slowly rotting away.

Brynn could sense its magic. It was also weak, uncertain, like the statue. But still functional. Protective magic.

“It looked brand new just a few months ago.” Shaman Edda stood next to him, regarding the Fence. She was the local village healer. She had the appearance of an old grandmother, but she had walked confidently and without hesitation with Brynn up the hill to the single gate in the Fence.

The Far Forest stood beyond the gate. This section looked like normal woods to Brynn, primarily made up of oak and pine. The tree leaves whispered in the slight noon breeze. It was calm, peaceful. But Brynn knew that the forest extended out far beyond this and was mostly unexplored.

“What about the statue in the village square? Did that also age recently?”

“No, the Statue has always looked like that. No one knows how they came to be here. Perhaps they were built by the Old Ones, or the Elves?”

“Can people pass through the Fence?” asked Brynn. He had noticed a squirrel pass underneath it earlier, prancing off into the forest.

“I don’t think the Fence is meant to block the likes of you and me.”

“Do villagers ever go into the woods?” Brynn looked at the small altar built next to the gate, topped by the remains of the most recent burnt offerings. Chicken bones poked through the ashes.

“All the time. Or at least they did. As long as you stayed within sight of the Fence, it was safe. Children would sometimes go a little further on a dare. But now … now they hear strange howling from deep inside the woods. My apprentice went to gather herbs just beyond the gate, and when she came back, she told me that she felt dark thoughts enter her mind.”

The Fence’s magic was tied to the Statue somehow. He would have to go back to it. Brynn took a small scroll of parchment and a piece of charcoal out of his pack. He began to copy some of the runes on the nearest post. “What kind of dark thoughts were they?”

“Honestly, she couldn’t explain it well. She said it was a kind of cold despair. Now she won’t go back in the woods, and I don’t think any villager will either. I’m not sure where I’ll get the ingredients for my medicines.” She kicked a small rock at the Fence in frustration.

A small girl appeared from around the bend in the path up the hill. She ran up to Edda, looking exhausted. “Delkash fell off his boat and onto the dock and broke his arm! Nakura sent me to look for you.”

Edda turned to Brynn. “It doesn’t take long before I’m needed for something. If you would excuse me, Druid.”

“Yes, Shaman, thank you for your time.”

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Brynn spent a little more time alone studying the gate before heading back down to investigate the Statue. There wasn’t much to see. Time had eroded away all distinguishing features, although the head looked different somehow. The ears were oddly shaped and the nose looked … strange. Was it an Elf?

The Statue also had a small altar next to it, but it looked seldom used. Brynn got closer to the Statue and studied the runes in more detail. Most were faded away and the few he could see were unrecognizable. He did find one set that must have been carved in at a later date. It was written in the Old Tongue and the first word was “famous” or “legend”. The rest of the runes probably represented a name, but he couldn’t read them.

The magic of the Statue was weak and frustratingly difficult to pinpoint. Brynn was looking up, squinting at the Statue’s face, and trying to discern a small thread of magic emanating from its eyes, when Mayor Rhoddri surprised him from behind.

“I thought you would be looking at the Fence.”

Brynn yelped and lost his focus. “I believe the Fence and the Statue are linked somehow,” he explained.

“I see.” Rhoddri nodded, but had a doubtful expression on his face. “The villagers won’t go into the forest until the Fence is repaired. While most of our income is from our fish trade, we still get many of our supplies from the woods. The Fence needs to be fixed, and quickly.” Rhoddri stared at Brynn. Once again Brynn felt like a small field mouse about to be snatched by a hawk. He shuddered reflexively.

“I’m working on it, good Mayor.”

“Of course, Druid. I want a report by the end of the day.” That ended the conversation as far as the mayor was concerned. He stalked off in search of other prey.

Brynn sighed and spent another moment looking back up at the Statue. There was nothing more he could learn from it for now. He would go back to the Fence one more time, and if couldn’t learn more … he had other ways of finding things out.

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For the rest of the day, Brynn walked the entire length of the Fence, searching for clues. The Fence stretched from one end of the village bay to the other, and all along it Brynn could see the same evidence of rot and decay. He saw nothing that would give him a clue as to how to fix it, however. It was protective magic, but what was it defending against? Who had put it there, and why?

He was back at the gate, with the sun low in the sky, when he concluded that he would have to channel magic in his own way to get some direction. Calling on the spirits of the land was a risky business. They had their own wants and needs and weren’t always interested in helping. Worse still, they sometimes actively disliked you.

He wasn’t going to connect with spirits this time, exactly. Instead he would try to contact creatures that inhabited both the mystical and the mundane, and could see things most other beings couldn’t. But their unique perspective often made communicating with them difficult. Unsettling.

Brynn pulled a handful of seeds and a shiny metal button from his pack. He tossed them onto the ground in front of him, stepped back a dozen steps and sat cross-legged on the ground.

“Caw!” he called out. “Caw!” And waited.

Several minutes passed before a single crow circled overhead. It landed on a tree branch overhanging the gate and stared at Brynn. A few minutes more passed and it was pecking at the seeds on the ground. It considered the silver button disdainfully before picking it up and flying away.

Brynn waited some more. Sometimes they didn’t bother returning. He was just about to give up when he heard the cacophonous sound of hundreds of crows crying to each other, approaching from the woods. They circled directly overhead, squaking and shrieking. Brynn continued to wait patiently. They appeared agitated, which wasn’t a good sign. Slowly, one by one, they alighted on the tree branches nearby, looking down at him.

A crow flew down and landed in front of him. Was it the same crow as before? Did it matter? It waited for his question.

“How do I fix the Fence?”

There was a pause, and then the crow flew away in a burst of motion, pulling Brynn’s mind with it. He was the crow and the crow was him and they were flying high and away over the Far Forest. The height and the speed made Brynn’s stomach churn. He gagged involuntarily and retched and let out a gurgled, “Caw!” His wings fluttered awkwardly and they started falling.

The crow, irritated, pushed Brynn’s mind aside and it righted itself, continuing their journey. Brynn was just a passenger now and could only watch as they flew deep into the forest.

They flew high in the sky, through the clouds, but the crow kept its eyes on the woods below. Brynn lost track of time passing. They had been flying for hours, minutes, days, when Brynn started to notice that the trees looked darker somehow. Shadows were in the wrong places. Leaves were curled and gray. Off in the distance, the forest disappeared completely and he could see only black. The blackness was moving towards them.

The crow turned, trying to fly away, but it was too late. Brynn watched, horrified, as it engulfed them. Emotions burst into his head. Sadness. Despair. Aching. Brynn gave up flying, tumbling to the ground, feathers falling off, spinning in the air, falling, falling, falling. A numbness took hold. A finality. He had no more thoughts. Was he the crow? Was he Brynn?

He was Darkness.

Brynn opened his eyes. He was back by the gate, laying on the ground. The crow stood on his chest, eyeing him impassively.

“Caw,” it said. You need to look into this, it told him. Then it launched itself into the air, but not before relieving itself on his robes.

Brynn stood up shakily. Bird poop, terrific. He supposed it all could have gone worse. Maybe.

He slowly gathered his belongings and set off back to village. High Druid Themon’s prophesy had been right. What the crow had shown him was frightening beyond all comprehension. It had to be stopped.

It was time to report to the mayor.