I gasp, and not because he surprises me.
Before I can even focus on the plain dial, the map that does not exist jumps out at me—
The stallion whinnies and rears up again. Settling him, I see what I was shown before, the outline of Anathos… except everything has reoriented itself to my position now, in the Badlands, a distance south and west from the Outpost.
The red arrow is pointing resolutely south.
Which happens to be directly in front of me.
It’s as if the instrument is telling me to go forward—
Abruptly, and without warning, the compass closes itself up, the cover flipping over on its own and clicking into place, as if the request I put no voice to has been answered and our business concluded.
I can only stare in disbelief at its gold contours. Putting my thumb back on the release, I push it. Push it again. Push the little release a third time.
When nothing happens, I feel as though it’s refused me a dialogue, and a strange gut instinct tells me that if I keep trying to force another audience I’ll be considered rude. And considering this inanimate object—that nevertheless moves itself—is my only ally outside of my horse, I return it to its satchel, put it back in the pack, and remount the now-familiar weight onto my shoulders and spine once again.
In a sudden panic, I look at the sky, worried I’ve lost time. But no. This has all happened in just an instant. I have a thought that the hours that lapsedbefore were for another reason… maybe because Merc and I had to wait for the intersection of the mayor, his sons, and our lovely, loyal gelding.
Or perhaps it was something else. Fate only knows.
Meanwhile, shadows are lurking in the forest ahead of me, the great unknown waiting in and among the trees. It’s as if I’m peering into the mysteries and peril of destiny itself, and I have an innate urge to turn back. Still, the direction from the compass is as good a portent as any I’m going to get—and besides, this is where I must go. If only I could see more clearly the path ahead—
A shimmering coalesces before me, like heat waves upon a roof, and it’s as green as emerald and as reflective as a silver plate. And then a breeze comes from behind me, the tops of all the grasses and weeds bending away with a part down the middle, as if making way for us.
The mysterious effect travels forth to the forest, and that’s when the creaking and snapping starts. For no reason that makes any logical sense, the trees are arcing to the sides as the grasses did, their tops turning outward until their trunks prevent any further bend, their branches giving way more easily until some even snap off and fall.
Magic.
This is… no dream. This is actual magic.
I exhale in disbelief and awe—and have the sense that I am not alone, after all. Something is with me, taking Merc’s place as a protector.
Except then I remember the black sand in my mouth, and I wonder if this is a trap. There’s no evil that I can sense, though. And the horse isn’t balking.
“Always forward, never back.”
Gripping the reins, I urge Lavante forth, and he leaps at the chance to get back into motion, his hooves clapping over the ancient pavers toward the forest. As we proceed, I glance over my shoulder. Like two pieces of fabric knitting back up, the grasses resume their density in our wake—and now I am in the trees. Courtesy of their bowing away, I have plenty of light and there are no places to hide from my eyes.
All around, a subtle green sheen sparkles, swirling and twirling on invisible currents as if the energy is what is holding back everything for me. And after I pass, the forest rights itself. This continues as I go deeper and deeper into the woods, the way before yielding to me, the path in my wake sealing back up. Is this the compass? Whatever it is, I’m struck with a suspicion that I’m being led somewhere by a force outside of my control.
And I’m not sure whether it’s benevolent.
After some distance, the road starts to curve and continues to do so until there’s a convergence with the Rozars, the trees on the right-hand side givingway to throngs of ragged rocks that protrude from the ground at gradually increasing heights until they tower over me. This is like no range I have ever seen, less mountains that rise above than something pushed up from a place deep underground. The peaks are black with brown horizontal veining, and certain faces have faded from sun exposure. As we sidle up on them, I’m astounded at the sheerness of elevations, and soon enough, I have to throw my head all the way back in order to see what I can of their flanks.
I remember Merc saying that any mountain can be traveled in the rain, but these things couldn’t be scaled in any kind of weather.
The trail takes a sharp jab to the right. Doubles back on itself. Makes another hook. Narrows down tightly. As the rock walls close in, Lavante’s hoof strikes start to echo—and gone goes the sun. Though there’s plenty of light to see by, none of the rays reach down here, and the warmth fades quickly. I think of the water rushing through the other section of the mountain range. With these vertical rises, and the narrow passages between them? Assuming the other way is similar, the storm runoff would be deadly in these snaky canyons, and likely to come up quickly—
A sound vibrates through the tight trailway, bouncing off the planes of rock and amplifying with every angle. The stallion hears it, too, and comes to a stop even as I’m about to pull back on the reins.
It’s a rhythmic strike… that has an odd resonance. Like someone—or something—is repeatedly hitting a surface that has some metal in it—or maybe that’s just the acoustics of the passageway?
Urging Lavante forward, the stallion treads even more lightly than usual, as if sneak attacks are a trained skill for him. I become prepared, too, for all the good it will do, by putting my hand in my pocket, finding Thale’s gift and recalling how he told me to use it—
Without warning, I come out of a turn into a clearing that’s broad and deep enough to allow the sun to penetrate down to the packed ground. But the slanting rays and return to warmth are not what I notice.
It’s not even the bizarre, towering barrier I’m confronted with.
