Shadows of the Beyond: Chapter Three
"So, where are we going?" Charles was trudging along in Shadow's wake, clumsily slushing through the mud. The rain had faded away shortly after the circle appeared.
Shadow looked back and said, "The gate."
"The gate? To what?"
"You'll see."
The path swept back and forth in a sinuous trail up the mountain. Several times it seemed to be heading downward instead of upward, but each time it eventually began moving back in the right direction. Very little vegetation decorated the land surrounding the path.
"Shadow?"
"Yes?"
"Why is the land so dead?"
"Graagor," said Shadow, stopping. "This world used to be a paradise, filled with the most beautiful forests, waterfalls, crystal lakes. But Graagor began meddling with the dark arts. His magic seeped out, so to speak, and poisoned the whole land. Or perhaps he cast a spell on it; I don't know. What I do know is that it is now a rotting, festering, dying land that is hardly worth saving."
A question came into Charles' mind. "Were you here when it was a paradise?"
Shadow smiled and said, "No, no, that was long before my time. I've just read about it in books. But I can imagine it." He looked out over the desolate landscape and sighed. "Perhaps someday..."
"Can't the King do anything?"
"Yes, of course. The King can do anything he wants to. But he chooses not to."
"Why?"
Shadow looked at him sharply. "Charles, it is not for us to question the King's decisions. He is the authority here, not you, not I. I know his ways may seem strange or even stupid at times, but I also know -- from long and hard experience -- that he is always right. If the King is letting Graagor do as he will, then that must be right. The shadows always clear up in the end."
As they came round a bend, the trail led up to a pool and disappeared in the water. In the middle of the pool there was a small wooden door rising out of the water. On the other side Charles could see the trail continue on up the mountain. A door standing there in the middle of nowhere on a mountain. On water, no less. Charles wondered to himself if he had made a mistake in getting involved in all of this.
Shadow motioned for him to take off his clothes and get in the water.
"Take off my clothes? Are you kidding?"
Shadow smiled. "Don't worry, I won't look. I promise."
"But why do I need to take them off? Can't I keep them on?"
"No, you won't be able to enter the water if you do. Try it."
Charles walked up to the end of the trail and stuck his foot out. The water was as hard as stone. "Shadow, I can't go in there. It's solid! Can't we just walk around it?"
"You can, but you won't be able to go any farther."
"We'll see about that." Charles walked around the side of the pool -- it was only twenty feet wide -- and tried to walk past the arch. And couldn't. Some invisible force wouldn't let him go even an inch past the doorway.
"See?" Shadow was still standing back on the other side of the lake.
Charles grumbled and came back. "Well, you'd better turn around. And put your hands over your eyes."
Shadow did so.
"Do I have to take off everything?"
"You'll see for yourself."
Charles quickly removed his shirt and tried to step into the water. It was still rock hard. He looked to make sure Shadow wasn't looking, then removed the rest of his clothing and stepped into the water. It gave him no resistance this time and was even warmer than he thought it would be. When he was safely covered, he said, "Now what?"
"Swim through the door," said Shadow.
Charles said, "Can't I just walk through it?"
"No, you have to go under the water. All the way."
Charles shrugged and ducked under the water. He could see the door clearly. It was only five or six feet away.
Suddenly a clap of thunder shook the ground. Charles shot up out of the water.
"What was that?"
Shadow said, "Ignore it. Swim through the door."
"Is it safe?"
"Yes."
Charles dipped under the water again and began swimming toward the door. As he got nearer, he felt it drawing him towards it, like a magnet. When he passed through the door, a warm feeling burned inside his chest and he felt like he had been washed clean. He popped up out of the water and looked back at Shadow. Shadow wasn't there.
"I'm over here." Shadow stood on the trail ahead, smiling broadly. "Good job. You can come out now."
"Where are my clothes?"
"You're wearing them."
Charles looked down at himself and found that he indeed was wearing clothes. But they weren't his old t-shirt and jeans; instead, he was clothed in a brown tunic with sandals.
"Shadow, these aren't my clothes."
"I know. You can't wear your old clothes past the door."
"But I like them. Can't I go back and get them?"
"No, it's impossible. You'll get used to the new ones. Follow me."
"But they're wet!"
"No, they're not. Come on."
Charles pushed his way through the water and stepped out onto the trail. As soon as he was all the way out of the water, the tunic dried itself. Shadow was already walking ahead, so Charles ran to catch up.
"Shadow?"
"Yes?" Shadow looked back at Charles.
"Why did I need to do that?"
"It's the only way to move on. You saw that."
"But why the pool? Why the door?"
Shadow smiled. "Charles, your questions are too deep for me. I really don't know. But the King set it up that way, so that's enough for me."
"Oh."
Before they had walked much farther, Charles asked, "Will you tell me the real story? About you and Graagor?"
Shadow swallowed. "Must I?"
"Please? I need to know."
"As you wish. But we must keep a brisk pace if we're to meet Skyrider by dusk." He heaved a deep breath and began.
The first point you must remember is that Graagor is a liar. He makes his lies more potent by stirring in a few truths. Beware him always. Now, I was indeed a minion of his, back when I was young. He enticed me with his promises of power and his mysterious ways. I succumbed and became his disciple.
After several months of learning the horrible dark arts and being wrapped in darkness day and night, I saw what I was turning into -- a monster like Graagor -- and made a decision to change. But it didn't happen immediately. I forgot about my resolution and went back to meddling in potions and spells and necromancy. Then one day as I was looking out my window, thinking about a spell that had gone awry, a white dove flew down from the sky and perched on the turret outside my window. At first a terrible hate filled me and I tried to cast a spell that would destroy the creature. It didn't work. No, I must correct myself -- it did indeed work, for the fireball shot out from my hands, but the bird was unharmed. Something was protecting it. I tried again; the same thing happened. The bird then spoke to me. I was quite surprised, for never had a creature spoken to me except when under my spells.
It called me by name and told me I was destroying myself by staying on the side of the dark. I asked what I had to do to change. It didn't say anything for a few seconds, but then it said, "Leave Graagor immediately." Part of me recoiled, but the rest of me saw it for the truth it was. I packed up my few belongings and set out. I didn't know where I was going; all I knew was that I needed to get away from Graagor. The instant I stepped outside the castle, I knew inside my heart that I was doing the right thing. After a few days' journey, haunted at every step by the thought of Graagor finding me, and starving because I hadn't packed any food with me, I reached a caravan of traders. They took me in and fed me.
One of them, a man named Lanstad, pulled me into a tent off to the side and asked if I knew Graagor. At first I wanted to tell him I didn't, but honesty prevailed. He asked how I knew the dark one. I told him I had been a disciple, but I had forsaken the dark arts and left to find something better.
He looked at me hard and said, "How do I know you're not a spy?"
I couldn't think of anything to say, so I weakly mumbled, "I'm not, I promise."
Just then a page tapped the man on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He frowned. "Graagor has sent a small army out of Graagathain. They're heading in our direction. It looks like Graagor wants you back."
Chills coursed through my body. "Please don't let him get me -- I just escaped and you don't know what he'll do to me if he gets me." Before long I was blubbering like a baby.
Lanstad turned to his page. "Fetch Timman, will you?" The boy left for a moment and returned with a short, fat man, heavily bearded and clad in chain mail.
"Timman," Lanstad said, "this man says he's not a spy. Graagor's on his way to take him back. What do you think -- shall we let him go or shall we trust him?"
Timman stared at me for a solid minute. "Are you telling the truth?"
"Yes," I said, quivering. The four torches on the sides of the tent flickered.
Timman turned to Lanstad and said, "Trust him. But be careful, for he's newly freed of the dark and it may yet have a hold on him." He gave me a stern eye. "If you betray us, man, you will rue the day you were born."
"I won't betray you. I promise."
Lanstad ordered the caravan to set off toward the south. He put me on a horse with Timman and sent us eastward with a small party of men. Before long we reached a forested hill and hid among the trees. From where we were, we could easily see the caravan, slowly moving toward the mountains as Graagor's army -- perhaps 50 in number -- galloped in from the north. The caravan stopped as the army reached it. After an hour, to our horror, the army began moving in our direction, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed. We leapt onto our horses and began racing away up the hill as fast as we could go.
"Someone must have betrayed us," Timman said as we hurtled through the leaves and branches.
We swerved to the south as a river suddenly appeared in our view. One of the men called out that there was a bridge not too far ahead. Within five minutes we came to it. And gasped -- Graagor and five other men were on horseback on the other side of the bridge. I thought he might not recognize me since I was wearing a hood, but as we raced past the bridge, he called out my name. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Part of me wanted to answer his call, to go to him and plead for forgiveness. But Timman whispered, "Don't listen to him," and the other part of me obeyed. As we passed the bridge, I looked back. Graagor watched as we moved away, but neither he nor the other horsemen moved.
"Why aren't they following us?" I asked.
"Don't know." said Timman. "Hold on tight -- this next part will get a little rough."
The river turned to the east and disappeared in a gully. We kept moving south. The hill became steeper and rockier. One man's horse stumbled and fell to the ground. Timman jumped off his horse and helped the fallen man get back up. After several miles of the rocky terrain, we were high above the valley and could see Castle Graagathain off in the distance.
Graagor's army had disappeared, but the caravan was still there, moving south far below us. I turned to Timman. "What now?"
"Now," he said, "we wait. Lanstad will come for us." He ordered the men to get off their horses and tie them under a nearby tree.
"Can't they see us?" I asked.
"They? Probably." He stroked his beard. "But I don't think Graagor would send his troops up here. Too risky."
I paled. "Too risky? You don't know Graagor very well. He wants me back. We need to find some kind of shelter."
To be continued...
