Kendrin slept soundly. The beds at the Dancing Frog Inn were not exceptional, just a sack stuffed with feathers, but compared to his recent accommodations in the cold, harsh wilds, his small room felt like a King’s chambers.
When he woke he meditated for an hour before going downstairs for food. He chose a table in the corner. It was the instinct of a man like him to have solid walls at his back at all times. He watched people come and go. Eventually a portly man in an apron walked to his table, holding a platter with bread and cheese.
“Sorry about the wait, sir.” He said fearfully. “We have quite a few more customers than usual today.”
Kendrin looked around. There were five other people in the tavern. He sighed.
“It is quite alright. Would you get me a bit of port, though, if it isn’t too much trouble?”
The man nodded and walked away.
“They’ve had a change of staff,” Kendrin murmured to himself.
The hunter picked away at his bread and cheese and considered his next steps. He had spent quite enough time in this quaint little village, almost a year, and it was time to move on. But where to go? That was the question.
Slowly more guests trickled downstairs. The server came with his port. Kendrin ate, drank, and thought, but his mind kept wandering. He finished the food and pushed his plate back. It scraped harshly on the uneven wood. A serving girl came and took it away.
Abruptly the door swung open. Eight men walked into the tavern. They wore heavy winter gear over red, militaristic uniforms. Their cheeks were red from the cold and they breathed heavily, gulping the warm air of the fire. They would have walked like soldiers had they not been so tired. They were clearly foreigners. The first man walked to the counter and checked into the inn in between gasps. Kendrin glanced around the tavern. All of the guests looked rather uncomfortable at the sight of these newcomers. Visitors were rare in Ferryworth.
The men walked upstairs to their rooms. Kendrin sipped his port absently. They returned a few minutes later, got food, and sat down at a large central table. The men talked in hushed whispers, glancing at each person in the tavern in turn. Finally their eyes settled on Kendrin. He held their stare until they looked away.
These men were looking for something, Kendrin could tell. They did not belong in the North, and the hunter sensed that they were unused to this land.
‘They must be adventurers,’ He thought. ‘But how did they find a way through the mountains?’ He silently resolved to investigate.
The men whispered a few more hushed words, glancing repeatedly at Kendrin. After a moment the man that had led the party in stood and walked to Kendrin’s table. He sat down at a chair opposite him. He was young but balding, and he wore a fuzzy brown mustache on his lip.
“How d’you do?” The man asked politely, extending a hand. Kendrin did not shake it.
“Fine enough.” He responded shortly.
Taken aback, the man continued. “I am Captain Vance Rogers of the thirtieth Atarian brigade. My men and I have been commissioned to map the province of Northland for our country, and we have come a long way to be here.” Kendrin nodded.
“Ataria has mapped the lands surrounding your village, of course, but my men have a greater prize in mind- the Dreadwood.”
Kendrin raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Three things, Captain Rogers- first, this is not my village. Second, not just anybody ventures into the Dreadwood and leaves alive. Especially not Southerners like yourselves. And thirdly, if you wanted any hope of surviving even half a day in that forest, you would need a guide.”
“For which we would pay much.” Finished Captain Rogers.
Kendrin raised his eyebrows. How curious. “Indeed?” He said. “Why me, Captain?”
“We need a guide quickly. We plan to begin our journey at sunrise. The locals here have told us to find the bountyman, said he’s our best bet. You look like him.”
Kendrin chuckled. He had no liking for these military men, but this job was an interesting prospect.
“You guess well, Captain.” He said. “I have spent a bit of time in the shallower parts of the forest, which is more than anyone else can say. How much are you offering?” He took a swig of his port.
“Five hundred gold, upon completion of the job.” The Captain stated.
“Make that one thousand.”
The Captain was silent for a moment. “Let me discuss it with my men,” He said, and returned to his table. Kendrin tightened his bowstring while he waited.
After several minutes the Captain returned.
“You have a deal.” He said.
“Very well.” Replied the bountyman, standing up. He extended his hand. “My name is Kendrin.”
The Captain paused, and then shook it.
Kendrin walked to the stairs. “Meet me here at daybreak,” He said. “And don’t be late.”
. . .
The sun was well on its way into the sky when Captain Rogers came downstairs, followed by his soldiers. They were fully dressed for exploration. Kendrin sat at his table, a smile on his face. “Slept in, did we?” He said. The Captain did not respond.
Kendrin stood. His bow was strapped to his back. A quiver stocked full of arrows accompanied it, and three silver arrows were strapped to his chest, if he needed them. His swords hung in gleaming scabbards at his sides.
“Are you checked out, bountyman?” Rogers asked. Kendrin nodded.
The soldiers checked out and met Kendrin at the door. “I’m excited!” Captain Rogers said, obviously attempting to lift his soldiers morale. “It’s a good day for adventure!” He clapped one of his men on the back. Kendrin rolled his eyes as they set off down the road.
The party hiked silently behind Kendrin as he led them along trails and up hills. Soon they were shivering in the cold air. Further still they went.
As they neared their destination, Kendrin spoke. “Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. All manner of monster inhabits the Dreadwood. I have encountered wolfmen, babas, and trolls. I even killed a wendigo on the edge of the forest just last night.” Rogers nodded, impressed.
“If the rumors of hunters better than I are true, however, there are far deadlier things in the forest. I have even heard myths of mad Fey lords that inhabit these woods, great Fae-Tar kings driven into the north by their grief and madness. The sickness of their minds has spread among those trees and tainted them. It is a place of dark whim, where little is as you expect. Even soldiers like yourselves may find your minds slipping in such twilight places.”
“But certain things may make you safer while you are in the Dreadwood’s clutch. Never trust strangers more than you must. Take note of anything out of the ordinary, no matter how subtle. Live off of your rations for as long as you can- much of the food in the forest is poisoned. And most importantly, be quiet. Do not laugh or cry, and speak as quietly as you are able. If I signal, you all must make no noise. It could be a matter of life or death.” The soldiers nodded gravely.
“If you become lost or are separated from us, stay where you are. You will have no chance of survival if you start moving. Trust me on this.”
One of Rogers men shivered. “This makes that mountain pass we took to get here sound like nothing, don’t it boys?” The soldiers tittered nervously.
“Trust me, if any of you are afraid, you’d best turn around now.” Kendrin said. “This forest is an evil place. It feeds on fear- the more there is, the more dangerous. Only courage will get you through this place. Anything less will reward us all with death.”
Rogers sighed. “You do paint a bleak picture, bountyman. But I will go on. My country asks it of me, and so I must.” He turned to his men. “If any of you would turn back, say so now. I don’t want anyone compromising our safety.”
No hands were raised.
“My men are of tough stock.” Said Rogers. “Continue, bountyman.”
Finally the men crested a ridge to see a wall of trees several hundred yards away. As the party approached, a single dark path in the trees became clear.
“Intimidating place,” Captain Rogers remarked. “Is that where we start?”
“That is a good question with a strange answer.” Kendrin told him, with fear in his voice. “For the Dreadwood is a strange, deadly place. I can tell you with absolute certainty that this opening was not here last afternoon.” He sighed. “In fact, there has never been a path through the Dreadwood. This is a bad sign. By all accounts, trails do not appear unless the Dreadwood wants you to enter it, and that means that we are being watched. By what, I do not no. Perhaps the wood’s malevolence itself. No, I propose we stay off the trail. Its mere existence proves to me that it would be dangerous to tread. Better to remain off the path and unseen than on it and hunted.”
Kendrin took a deep breath. “That is all I have to say. Now, let us begin.”
. . .
The men approached the trail. As they got closer a black fear settled in their hearts, and the trees seemed to creak in anticipation, inviting them into the shadows.
Kendrin had not been jesting when he said he feared that they were being watched. He felt it in his bones, like only a honed highborne ranger might. Something evil and powerful had taken an interest in the adventurers, and Kendrin was wary. But he could not identify a source for this fear, so he had to be content with his instincts.
He chose a spot some sixty feet off of the path, where the trees were still thin. He and the men looked back once at the beautiful, crystal white mountains and stepped away into the shadows. The trees were dark, and soon the men began reaching for torches and lanterns.
“Stop!” Hissed Kendrin. “Do you want to kill us all? Put them away, fools.” The scathed men quickly stowed their lights. Kendrin reached into his pack and removed an eerie, ornately gothic lantern forged in the design of spikes and thorns.
“This is called a Ghostwise Lantern.” He informed them. “It was difficult to procure, but it is a valuable item. Only those I choose can see its light. When I will it-” Purple fire sprang up inside the lantern. “-it ignites.”
The party walked in silence for several hours. Soon they started to hear eerie noises in the wood, strange cawings and howls of madness. “Be on your guard,” Kendrin said simply.
“Get down!” The hunter whispered suddenly and dropped to a crouch. The soldiers clumsily followed suit. “There,” He said, pointing. There seemed to be a dim green light ahead.
The men followed Kendrin as he slowly approached the light. As they neared it, they saw that it was just a lantern hanging from a bracket on a tree. Its green light danced unevenly, illuminating the message scratched on the tree underneath.
Welcome to my dreams
“What devilry is this?” Exclaimed Captain Rogers loudly.
“Quiet, man!” Hissed Kendrin angrily. “We must now be especially careful. We have been openly challenged, and now we must be ready for anything.
Captain Rogers continued on, following the bountyman further into the trees. He grew sleepy, although they must not have marched for more than several hours. He watched his toes as and pondered his strange guide. The bountyman was an intimidating man, fierce and cold. Yet Rogers sensed that he was good. He had always been told that he was a good judge of character.
Rogers looked up, and a shudder ran down his spine. He was alone. Where had his men gone? Where was their guide? He stopped, blood curdling at the eerie silence that followed. He looked around, peering into the trees. There was no one.
Rogers began to walk again, speeding up his pace. As he did so he heard a strange sound in the trees, terrifying and cold. Yes, someone was laughing. How curious. Who would laugh in a place like this? Despite himself, however, a small chuckle escaped him. It was followed by another, and then a larger guffaw. Whatever the joke, it really was quite funny. Rogers doubled over as he walked, consumed by mirth. He howled, oh how it was hilarious! Tears streamed down his face and slobber dripped from his jaws.
Rogers looked up again and his laughter instantly began to die. Before him was himself, hunched over, on his knees howling in mirth. His closed eyes were darkly ringed and his hair had fallen out in clumps. His fingernails were long, dirty and ragged. His teeth were rotting and brown.
The thing opened eyes. They were filled with a green madness that tore at Rogers’s soul.
“Find my heart, captain!” Said the monstrous thing. “I’ve Looked and looked, and it just isn’t to be seen!” As it cackled madly, the thing tore at its chest, and to Rogers’ horror it dug its fingers inside its breast. With a tug its chest was open. It’s sickly white lungs rose and fell as it breathed heavily, and tubes reached down through its body to its stomach. Worms riddled into its guts. But Rogers could see no heart.
The Captain screamed and screamed until he could no longer.
