the corpses, seeking the living for company. Ghouls walked amid the scavengers. The living fled the area and, undisturbed, this forest grew up in the soil fertilized by the rotting corpses. It’s said these trees are sinister, if a plant can be sinister. They fed on the dead. Even now stories leak out that ghouls still patrol the forest at night.”
“A grizzly tale it is, but how can such a place still be so evil if the battle was so long ago?”
“There was supposed to be an elf witch-queen that lived in the area. Her peoples left and went into the west long ago. She remained and, being alone among the growing presence of men, she moved into the forest. The souls that roamed there seeking the living, soon overwhelmed her. In the absence of people, she’s supposed to have made it possible for the aimless, lonely souls to inhabit the living trees. The infestations, so alien to the living forest, soon caused the gnarled trees to grow dark and twisted. Leaves formed galls as if responding to parasitic grubs. Over time, the souls have guarded their host trees. Trees that have grown ancient with the limbs weaving this wooden mesh that blocks out the sun.”
“But if the souls subsist within the trees themselves, how can they harm men?”
Nemenese poked the fire, savored the sweet smoke, then looked into the captain’s eyes. “You sure you want to know?”
“No, but to protect you, I suppose I should be aware.”
A twig snapped at the edge of the forest and the two men jerked, staring, looking for the source.
“An opossum.” King Nemenese settled back. “The tormented souls seek their living human company. They’ll take a man for host if the man is close enough to grasp and is unknowingly susceptible to the infestation. If the living man cannot be taken, the souls will attempt to kill him, that his soul will join their company.”
“What makes a man susceptible to the lost souls?”
“His mind, something in what he’s thinking opens his being to the lonely soul. They sense it. Then they find an opening, a wound of any kind. No one knows for sure, but it could be sorrow, or evil thoughts like envy or greed. None taken have come back to tell how it happened.”
“And the witch-queen, what became of her?”
“No one knows that either. She may still be in there.”
The next morning the travelers packed up and ate well then hacked their way through a tiny break in the webbing vines and into the forest’s dark gloom. They’d not gone far when the undergrowth died out for lack of light. A thick carpet of molding leaves carpeted the forest floor, dotted everywhere with mushrooms and other fungi. The horses grew wary and often shied at things unseen. Three hours ride into the woodland, something else protruded through the leaf litter, gleaming white. A horse’s hoof snapped a fallen branch and all jumped at the crackle.
“What’s that?” one of the guards traveling in the lead asked the others. He’d stopped and pointed to the new white element speckling the endless expanse of brown leaves and the occasional lichen clump.
The captain, then Nemenese, pulled up beside the man. “Bones!” the king’s hushed voice uttered. “Ancient bones, more bones than rodents can gnaw.”
“This must be where the armies clashed,” the captain said, his eyes scanning the bone field. “They never buried the dead but left them to rot. No wonder the souls are still wandering in search of peace.”
“Them bones goes on as far as I can see,” another guard grumbled. The horses began stamping about and neighing. A strong sweet-nauseous smell of decaying flesh permeated the air, heavy with electrical charge that made arm hair bristle.
A vine slinked down from an overhanging branch, spiraling as if searching. It brushed a guard’s shoulder then shot down with lighting speed wrapping around and around him before he could react. The panicky man struggled, trying to unwrap it, but the vine tightened. It squeezed his
“A grizzly tale it is, but how can such a place still be so evil if the battle was so long ago?”
“There was supposed to be an elf witch-queen that lived in the area. Her peoples left and went into the west long ago. She remained and, being alone among the growing presence of men, she moved into the forest. The souls that roamed there seeking the living, soon overwhelmed her. In the absence of people, she’s supposed to have made it possible for the aimless, lonely souls to inhabit the living trees. The infestations, so alien to the living forest, soon caused the gnarled trees to grow dark and twisted. Leaves formed galls as if responding to parasitic grubs. Over time, the souls have guarded their host trees. Trees that have grown ancient with the limbs weaving this wooden mesh that blocks out the sun.”
“But if the souls subsist within the trees themselves, how can they harm men?”
Nemenese poked the fire, savored the sweet smoke, then looked into the captain’s eyes. “You sure you want to know?”
“No, but to protect you, I suppose I should be aware.”
A twig snapped at the edge of the forest and the two men jerked, staring, looking for the source.
“An opossum.” King Nemenese settled back. “The tormented souls seek their living human company. They’ll take a man for host if the man is close enough to grasp and is unknowingly susceptible to the infestation. If the living man cannot be taken, the souls will attempt to kill him, that his soul will join their company.”
“What makes a man susceptible to the lost souls?”
“His mind, something in what he’s thinking opens his being to the lonely soul. They sense it. Then they find an opening, a wound of any kind. No one knows for sure, but it could be sorrow, or evil thoughts like envy or greed. None taken have come back to tell how it happened.”
“And the witch-queen, what became of her?”
“No one knows that either. She may still be in there.”
The next morning the travelers packed up and ate well then hacked their way through a tiny break in the webbing vines and into the forest’s dark gloom. They’d not gone far when the undergrowth died out for lack of light. A thick carpet of molding leaves carpeted the forest floor, dotted everywhere with mushrooms and other fungi. The horses grew wary and often shied at things unseen. Three hours ride into the woodland, something else protruded through the leaf litter, gleaming white. A horse’s hoof snapped a fallen branch and all jumped at the crackle.
“What’s that?” one of the guards traveling in the lead asked the others. He’d stopped and pointed to the new white element speckling the endless expanse of brown leaves and the occasional lichen clump.
The captain, then Nemenese, pulled up beside the man. “Bones!” the king’s hushed voice uttered. “Ancient bones, more bones than rodents can gnaw.”
“This must be where the armies clashed,” the captain said, his eyes scanning the bone field. “They never buried the dead but left them to rot. No wonder the souls are still wandering in search of peace.”
“Them bones goes on as far as I can see,” another guard grumbled. The horses began stamping about and neighing. A strong sweet-nauseous smell of decaying flesh permeated the air, heavy with electrical charge that made arm hair bristle.
A vine slinked down from an overhanging branch, spiraling as if searching. It brushed a guard’s shoulder then shot down with lighting speed wrapping around and around him before he could react. The panicky man struggled, trying to unwrap it, but the vine tightened. It squeezed his
Similar Books
