Chapter 4

Brynn stepped past the Fence and turned for one last look at Brightmyst. He immediately realized that he never had time to study the other side of the Fence, the one facing away from village.

It looked in even worse shape. A dark mold was growing up the posts, nearly covering the runes, and wood everywhere was crumbling apart.

“You best leave now, Brynn, before I have the guards force you to leave,” Rhoddri stated.

“Mayor, the Fence—”

“The Fence is no longer your concern,” Rhoddri interrupted. “I’ll be sending another request to Galdir to have a new druid look into it.”

Brynn doubted that would help. He himself hadn’t come here to help with the Fence. He hadn’t even known about it. Rhoddri’s requests would probably sit moldering away with the hundreds of other requests from settlements across the Realm. He hoped Edda’s message would get through. They might listen if they took her word that it was from him. Then again, he wasn’t a druid anymore, so they might not.

“Brynn, this is your last warning.”

Brynn shrugged. “Goodbye, Mayor.” He nodded briefly and set off into the forest, not bothering to look back.

---

The crows hadn’t told Brynn how far away the Darkness was, but their vision gave him a general direction—north. So that was where Brynn headed. It was easy-going at first. The woods surrounding Brightmyst were clear and flat. Brynn chose a footpath that went in a northerly direction and followed it. Edda had said that the villagers stayed within sight of the Fence, but it was clear that many went further than that.

By midday, however, the footpath petered out. This was as far as the villagers could go and be able to return to Brightmyst before nightfall. He would have to forge his own path now.

The terrain became rougher, with undulating hills and thick underbrush blocking his way. Brynn unhappily pressed on.

Towards late afternoon he encountered a low ravine that had been cut out by a small brook. It seemed to be headed north, so Brynn jumped down onto the stream bed and followed it. Walking along side the water’s path was significantly easier, even if he had to occasionally watch his footing on slippery stones.

Brynn continued to make his way deeper into the forest. To anyone else, the whispering trees, bubbling brook, and songbird melodies would have given them the impression of pleasant, cheery surroundings.

To Brynn, the sheer number of spirits that were present was an assault on his senses.

For reasons unknown, spirits would sometimes concentrate themselves in a single area. This little stream was buzzing with all manner of them. Hundreds, thousands, were twinkling in and out of existence while the ancient spirit of the brook burbled its way through everything.

Rocks. Trees. Even the air was full of them.

The constant racket took its toll on Brynn. He pushed through, waving his hands in the air to ward them off. Which did nothing, of course. When he’d accidentally swallowed more spirits than he wanted to count, he decided that he needed to do something about it.

Maybe the brook would help. He sat on a boulder next to it, causing the boulder’s spirit to send a quiver up his spine.

“Burble, barble?” he asked the brook.

The brook gave no response.

Brynn sighed. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from a brook. His head throbbing, he decided to stop for the day.

He climbed out of the ravine to get away from the surfeit of spirits and started a small fire between two large trees. He foraged for some forest greens and made a soup with the smoked fish Edda had given him, placing a small amount of the fish in the fire as an offering the spirits. He doubted they cared about the fish, but he had to show he was making some effort to appease them. He was on their land after all.

He thought he would have trouble sleeping, but a full day’s worth of hiking had worn him out. He was asleep within minutes.

---

He was standing by the fire, warming himself, when a large hulking shadow appeared at the edge of the camp.

“What have we here?” asked the shadow, stepping into the fire’s light.

It was Kodroth. But different. His skin was pale blue and his eyes the color of moonlight. His wild hair twitched with a life of its own.

“As I live and breathe! It’s Brynn the Backstabber!” cried Kodroth, stepping closer to Brynn.

“H-H—”, stuttered Brynn. His vocal chords, and his entire body, were paralyzed with fear.

“How am I talking? Excellent question! I’ve got a tongue, silly!” Kodroth stuck his tongue out, fat and gray, and wiggled it. It looked like a giant slug trying to escape his mouth.

“W-W—”

“Why do I call you Backstabber?” Kodroth circled behind Brynn, stepping up right next to him. Brynn could feel his foul, cold breath on the nape of his neck.

“It’s because you stabbed me,” answered Kodroth, jabbing Brynn between the shoulder blades with an icy finger, “in the back!”

Memories jolted back into Brynn. Memories of running to the village square. Memories of awakening Gror, the living statue. And, yes, memories of stabbing Kodroth in the back with a spear.

“Brynnnnn the Backstabberrrrr!” sang Kodroth, stepping back around to face Brynn. “I like the sound of that! What should I be called now that I can speak again? Kodroth the Loquacious? Kodroth the Conversationalist? What do you think, Backstabber?”

“H-H—”

“How do I know who you are? It’s simple, really. You and I are on the same team, Backstabber, even if you don’t know it yet. We’ve both been touched by greatness! You fled from it, but I embraced it. I’ve never felt so alive! How could you have run away? But I see now, you’re heading back to it aren’t you? You’ll understand when you get there.”

He grabbed Brynn’s head in his giant hands. Brynn’s head froze and he began shivering.

“Ohhhhh, I want to crack your skull open and slurp out your brains, Backstabber! But I can’t. I can’t. We have plans. Great and terrible plans.” He let go of Brynn’s head and stood next to him, wrapping a massive arm around his shoulders.

“D-D—”

“Do I think Rhoddri exiled you because he thought you were a coward? No, I don’t think so. I think he’s the one who is afraid. Afraid of you! He knows you can see what they can’t. He knows your power!”

He sighed in mock sadness. “It’s like everyone else lives in a cave, Backstabber. To them, the world is just a bunch of shadows on the cave walls. But you don’t live in that cave! You know the world is more than shadows! You see the world in all its glory! They are afraid of you. Afraid and jealous of what you can see! They don’t want to be reminded that they live in a cave. That’s why Rhoddri had you exiled!”

He squeezed Brynn closer to him. He smelled of putrid, frozen, death. “It’s you and me, Backstabber. You and me against the world! Brothers in arms until the end!”

He hummed a jaunty sea shanty to himself while he looked on at the fire with Brynn.

“You know what, Backstabber? I changed my mind. I’m think I’m going to eat your brains after all!”

---

Brynn woke with a start. The fire had died down to a few smokey embers. The cold night air seeped into his bones.

Was that a dream or something else? He remembered a monstrous Kodroth spouting some nonsense about a cave. About being brothers.

And memories of the battle at Brightmyst. But they slipped away into a jumble before he could preserve them. All he could recall was a vague memory of running away from the palisade. There had been a reason for it, though. What could it have been?

Frustrated and tired, Brynn considered restarting the fire and getting some more rest, but it was already near dawn. He stamped out the embers instead and picked some berries for breakfast.

Before he set off, he constructed a small talisman out of twigs and branches. It looked vaguely like a spider’s web and was meant to ward off nightmares. The talisman was a folk remedy, something his mother had taught him as boy. The druids back at Galdir would scoff at him for making one. The thought made him sad. He was going to miss them. He placed the talisman in his pack and readied himself to leave.

Brynn decided that the brook was too aggravating to continue following, so he chose a different route. He had noticed a game trail earlier while foraging and traveled down it instead.

The game trail wound its way up and down the hilly forest. Several times, it disappeared over rocky knolls, leaving Brynn to a tiring climb and a time wasting search for the trail’s continuation. At least there weren’t too many spirits.

The sun was low in the horizon when Brynn pushed through some thorny bushes and entered a small clearing. A tall bushy oak tree stood in the center, its commanding presence dominating the glade. Its leaves glittered gold-green in the setting sun. An aged spirit lived here, which, as far as Brynn could tell, was peaceful and quiet.

He decided it was a good place to rest. It felt safe, somehow.

He didn’t want to risk waking the powerful tree spirit, so he abstained from making a fire. He hung his talisman on a low tree branch and gnawed on a bit of smoked fish. Then he picked up a handful of acorns and made a promise to the tree that he would plant them if he found an appropriate place.

Brynn took out his copies of the Fence’s runes and spread them out on the ground. He studied them for awhile but couldn’t discern anything new. Yawning, he relaxed onto a floor of oak leaves and closed his eyes.

---

Brynn was standing next to the tree, surveying the forest, when Kodroth appeared.

Kodroth flicked Brynn’s talisman with a rotten fingernail. “This might actually work for nightmares. Of which, I am not. Hello, Backstabber! Make any progress on your journey?”

Brynn felt the fear welling up inside him, but this time he was prepared. He took a deep breath and controlled his emotions.

“Kodroth,” he responded through gritted teeth.

“You can speak!” exclaimed Kodroth. “I was worried they cut out your tongue too.”

“You said … we were like … brothers.” Talking required all of Brynn’s concentration.

“Of course, we’re brothers, Backstabber! Both of us touched by greatness!” He beamed at Brynn, but then his face fell when he saw Brynn’s confused look.

“Oh, you don’t understand do you? You thought that your little thing with the crows was a harmless vision?” Kodroth stepped up so close that his decaying breath made Brynn flinch. “Let me explain something to you, Backstabber. You stare into the Darkness and the Darkness will stare back into you!”

The Darkness! Brynn repeated that to himself. He wasn’t sure how much he would remember of this dream. And why was Kodroth calling him Backstabber? It sounded familiar somehow.

Something caught Kodroth’s attention. He looked up into the giant oak tree.

“What … do you want … from me?” asked Brynn.

“I want your brains, Backstabber,” Kodroth replied distractedly. “No! No, that’s not it! I want—”

Brynn woke up suddenly to something prodding him stiffly in the belly. He flailed for a moment and opened his eyes.

He found himself staring up at an elf poking him in the stomach with a quarterstaff.

“It’s not safe here,” the elf whispered at him. “You need to leave.”