Chapter 26
WE REACHED THE FOREST BY midday.
If I had known that the Climbing Wood on the map was referencing what I knew as the Haunted Forest, I might not have agreed to this course of action.
“Might” was doing a lot of heavy lifting.
I would have said no. Absolutely, unequivocally no.
Because according to legends, this wasn’t an ordinary forest.
The trees loomed in front of us. Their trunks were thick, larger than the girth of my horse, and they butted against one another closely enough that they left little room for passage.
Their leaves created a canopy so thick, the ground was in constant shade, almost comparable to the Dark Wood.
But while the Dark Wood housed a small number of man-eating spiders, this forest was said to house things much more sinister.
I had explored most of the continent, but I had never walked beyond the barrier of this wood.
I had avoided it at all costs. Even Dave didn’t dare to fly over it, instead choosing the longer way around.
Because it was haunted or cursed or plagued or blighted or whatever word the locals used.
There was something wrong with it, and not in an it’s-just-misunderstood way.
Ominous eeriness seeped from the edges, literally, as a rolling fog crept along the ground at the periphery.
Aven paused beside me, reining Mouse next to Bluebell. “Oh,” they said. “I didn’t realize—”
“Me either.”
They gulped. “Are we going in? Or should we go south to the village?”
“What?” I asked, my voice as shaky as theirs had been. “Are you scared of ghost stories?”
“No. I’m scared of ghosts. Actual ghosts. You know what lurks in there, right?”
“What does lurk in there?” Zig called. He hunched over the neck of Carrot, patting the mule absently.
“Things,” I said. “It’s not called the Haunted Forest for nothing.”
Rylan looked suddenly as if he might faint. “This is the Haunted Forest?” he said, pointing a trembling finger. “I thought it was the Climbing Wood.”
Farrah had the map out across the pommel of her saddle. “It’s the Climbing Wood on the map. That’s strange.”
“The Climbing Wood may be its official name, but that is certainly not what the locals call it,” Aven said.
“Climbing Wood, Haunted Forest. It doesn’t matter,” I said, waving my hands.
This was no time to question. I had to trust my gut…
well, Farrah’s gut. And I, ancients help me, trusted Farrah.
“We’re going in as soon as Farrah finds the path.
If she can’t locate it in a reasonable amount of time, we’ll head south and hope to—”
“There it is!”
Ack.
Farrah triumphantly rolled the map and slid it into her saddlebag. She hummed. “I wonder why we didn’t see it when we first approached? Maybe the branches hid it.”
“Or,” Aven said, whispering into my ear, “it opened for us and is coaxing us inside to kill us and eat our corpses as they sink into the ground.”
Goose bumps popped up along my arms. “What is with you?” I asked. “Are you really afraid? Of a forest?”
Aven lifted their chin. “I’m allowed to be afraid. I am a bit… scared of ghosts. Happy?”
“Not really, since I’m counting on you to remain calm while we are in there!”
“What? Does Ellinore the Brave not have fears?”
“I do. And it’s watching my brother die.” I slid off my saddle and gathered Bluebell’s reins in my hand.
The path was narrow, the mouth of it the widest section before it disappeared into the darkness of the trees.
We would have to lead our mounts single file.
Aven paled as they dismounted from Mouse, almost as if they were about to faint, and they stood beside me, peering into the crushing gloom.
I moved closer and nudged them with my shoulder.
“Hey,” I said, voice low, my head tipped toward theirs. “If you really don’t want to go in here, I can order you to ride south and look for Lord Ethan and his entourage at the town. The others don’t have to know.”
They took a deep breath. “No. I’m okay. Really.”
“Aven, I don’t want to force you to do something that you don’t want to do.”
“It’s okay. No time like the present to face your ultimate childhood fear that is deeply rooted in your subconscious.”
Oh ancients.
“Okay.” I squeezed Aven’s hand. They squeezed back. “Rylan?” I called.
He dismounted from Carrot. “Yes?”
“We need torches. Magical torches.”
“Oh. Okay. Yes. I can do that.”
“Great.” I clapped my hands. “We’re going in. Aven and I will lead. And you three will follow. Stay right behind Bluebell.”
We hitched Bluebell to Mouse, and Carrot to Starlight. The trio would lead Starlight, which meant Zig would be in the middle, the most protected.
I held the magical torch above my head, peering into the gloom as we stood on the edge of the path. Aven tangled one hand in Mouse’s reins and held their bow in the other, quiver on their back. Though I don’t know what they thought an arrow would do to a ghost.
“Ready?” I asked with a trembling grin.
“If I die,” they said, glaring at me, “I’m going to be very upset.”
I patted their shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right with you.”
They heaved a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Entering the forest was an experience that I did not want to repeat. Ever. Again.
Aven walked through the barrier first, into the rolling mist, and disappeared in the dark, as if the shadows swallowed them up.
I took a breath, centered myself, gripped my sword with one hand and my torch with the other.
I stepped through.
The forest engulfed me. On the other side my torch flickered, the light of the magic flames barely penetrating the dimness.
From what I could see of the narrow path, it wound thinly through the trees. I hoped our horses would be able to traverse it.
“Ellinore?” Farrah called, her voice muted in the thick atmosphere and the weight of the shadows.
“We’re up here.”
“We’re right behind you!”
I twisted to peer behind Bluebell, where their two torches bobbed. “Let’s go,” I said with a nod to Aven, who looked like they were going to be sick.
The pace of our procession was agonizingly slow.
The path was treacherous, full of gnarled roots, snaking vines, and scratching branches.
The more we walked, the more I learned to keep my gaze locked on the path in front of me, for every time I glanced at either side of us, I saw a terrifying shape in the darkness, or a bobbing ball of green light, or movement within the shadows.
The forest knew we were here, and it tracked our progress.
Time warped. It felt like we’d been trekking for hours, while also seeming like we hadn’t moved at all.
The plods of the horses’ hooves were deadened thumps.
The grunts and curses of the others faded to whispers when they reached me, though I was only a step ahead.
The very air was oppressive, pressing down on my knotted shoulders.
I glanced back, trying to see if I could view our entrance for any kind of reference point, but all that was there was the stretching dark, the trail we’d walked gone, overgrown and taken back by the forest. Vines appeared as if they slithered along the ground.
A large blur streaked across the path, silent as the grave, despite running over bracken.
My throat tightened with fear. I strangled my sword in my grip, the leather creaking under my fingers.
“Ellinore,” Aven’s voice sounded, as if on a breeze.
“Yeah?”
“Are you… seeing things?”
“Yes.”
Aven’s breath left in a whoosh. “Good. I mean… I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
“Yeah. Hooray! I’m a partner in your misery.” Even treading through a creepy forest, I couldn’t help but poke at Aven. Teasing was my love language.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Sounds like what you meant.”
They huffed in annoyance. “Even in a haunted wood, surrounded by ghosts, you can’t help yourself, can you?”
“No.”
Aven groaned. “I don’t even know why I li—”
A growl sounded in front of us, low and menacing.
We stopped in our tracks and our teasing.
Aven immediately nocked an arrow. I held my sword at the ready and lifted the torch, revealing a massive black dog.
Its shoulders were easily the height of my own, and its fur was made of wisps of curling shadow.
Its glowing red eyes glared at us as it released a warning growl, unveiling rows of yellowed, razored fangs.
The hair on my arms stood on end as I readied myself, gulping down my terror, adjusting the grip on my sword. Aven trembled beside me.
The beast stepped forward.
It left no paw print or tracks even with its substantial size.
“Hey! Why did we stop?” Zig yelled from behind us.
“Aven needed to retie their boot strings,” I called back.
“Well, hurry up! I thought I heard a growl or something.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I shuffled closer to Aven, not daring to take my eyes from the dog but unsure of what to do.
Ellinore the Brave would attack, would not wait for the beast to make the first move, would give it no chance.
But Ellinore the Brave’s decisions had really sucked the past few days.
The real Ellinore knew that sometimes pixies only needed help and that dragons didn’t want to die over bad jokes and dead sheep.
I didn’t move. The ghost dog growled again, the sound of it so low, it vibrated through the ground, into the soles of my boots, and up into my body, rattling the trees as well as my bones.
But the dog didn’t advance. If it had wanted, it could’ve torn through us and the horses by now. But it hadn’t. Instead it waited.
“I don’t think it’s going to hurt us,” I whispered. “I’ve read before about forest guardians, and I think it may be one.”
Aven didn’t respond. Their body was drawn tight, muscles locked, their bowstring taut. I could only glimpse their profile, but they seemed… scared.
“Aven,” I said softly. I gently rested my hand on their shoulder, which was a giant mistake.