The Exile Read online

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  Lillian crept to the edge of the trees and glanced up at the sky. The clouds had mostly dissolved or blown away, revealing a moon that was clearly waning.

  She took a deep breath, and stepped across the phantom threshold into a world she’d left behind nearly nine years ago.

  Her ears were immediately struck by the sounds trapped within the shadowy veil she’d crossed. Scurrying legs, distant cackles, hooting owls.

  She breathed shallowly, getting used to the odor of the smelly long-horned hodags that roamed the woods. She passed lumbering qilin foraging for linka worms and oblivious to her. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted mischievous salawa out for whatever they could get their little claws into, and a horde of skvaders endlessly nibbling away at a grove of aspen tree trunks.

  She could hear the mournful call of mating thylacines and the howling waheela emerging from deep in the inky darkness between the trees.

  Above her head, the moon struggled to illuminate her way, becoming more and more obscured by the foliage as she continued forward.

  What little sorcery she knew, she’d learned naturally, having had no tutor or formal schooling in the ways of the enchanted. One thing she could do was use her half-hexed walking stick in a variety of ways.

  The first thing she did was use it to produce a focused beam of light to brighten the way ahead of her. She was surprised when the impenetrable darkness swallowed the beam only a few yards ahead.

  She stopped and consulted her spell book, where she had a page turned down that described a pathfinder charm, and read it aloud.

  “Wending blind the trav’ler doth strive, a vision guides by the aura’s eye, no guarantee thou wilt stay alive, for any plan may go awry. Hold fast the scene within thy mind, a view of only six-score breaths, what thou seek thou wilt surely find, or meet a most unpleasant death.”

  Lovely.

  The incantation was necessary for Lillian to be able to reach her destination – the location of the Corprid Willow, and the Forbidden Cave it guarded.

  As long as she recited the rhyme every one hundred and eighty breaths – about ten minutes, given her brisk pace – she could retain a vision of the correct route in her mind.

  She wasn’t sure about the meaning of all those morbid warnings – probably just a way to make the poetry flow and sound enchanted – or perhaps to ward off those who would use the spell casually.

  She continued into the forest along as straight a path as she could, maintaining a general direction that traced the path displayed in her head.

  Until she reached a sheer cliff face.

  “Great.”

  She turned around and found herself staring down a very hungry looking pygmy behemoth. Its razor-sharp tusks glinted in the light of Lillian’s walking staff, and its black empty eyes glared at her as it grunted and pawed menacingly at the earth.

  Thankfully, it only stood about a foot and a half tall.

  “Get out of here,” Lillian barked, stomping her foot.

  The animal flinched, then advanced on her, baring fangs two rows deep.

  She swung her half-hexed staff and yelled “Sopio!”

  The vicious little beast fell over on its side and skidded to a stop in the dirt, sleeping soundly.

  Not bad for a self-taught one-sixteenth sorceress.

  Lillian caught her breath, then looked around, trying to figure out how she was going to get around this very inconvenient mountain.

  She took a few tentative steps to her left, and was startled by a clear disembodied voice.

  “I saw you,” said the cockney-sounding man, as he dissolved into view immediately in front of her.

  “Who – who are you?” said Lillian, taking a cautious step backward and raising her staff defensively.

  “Name’s Charles H. Wellingborne the third,” he said with a flourish and a bow. “But me mates calls me Charlie.”

  He wore a long gray wool coat over a ragged three-piece suit – the suit was probably tan at some earlier point in its life. Now, it looked like this was Charlie’s only change of clothes. A little brown bowler hat sat atop his head, and his greasy black hair was tied in a short pony tail at the back. His hands were covered by a pair of filthy fingerless gloves. A thin beard adorned his tan face, bringing out his dark blue twinkling eyes.

  “How did you do that – materialize before me like that?” asked Lillian, still gripping her staff anxiously.

  “Ah, that’s nuffin. A little trickery me mum taught me when I was a kiddie. I’ll show you sometime if ya like,” he said, flashing a smile that revealed straight – but very yellow – teeth.

  “What did you mean when you said you saw me?”

  “I means I saw you put me pet to sleep. Good job, too, I’m sure he was about to bite you right on the foot. That’s what he tends to do to strangers. That was a nice little spell. Perhaps you can show me, sometime – how to do it, that is.”

  “Yes, well – sorry about your, uh, pet. Maybe you should keep him on a leash or something. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Never you mind,” she said, turning her back and starting off.

  “Er, I might be able to help you. Are you trying to get around this mountain?” asked Charlie, bending over the pygmy behemoth and scooping the snoozing creature up in his arms.

  Lillian turned slowly. “Yes.”

  “Well, you don’t want to go that way, - uh, what’s yer name, anyways?”

  “Lillian.”

  “You don’t want to go that way, Lillian. Take you all night and all day to boot.”

  Lillian sighed. “Fine. Thank you.”

  She started off in the opposite direction.

  “No, no,” said Charlie. “You don’t want to go that way, either. It’s even worse. A little shorter, yes, but infested with guarniches – big ones, at that.”

  “That doesn’t leave me many options,” Lillian said irritably.

  “Just one,” said Charlie with another broad smile. “Ya got to go through the mountain, see.”

  “Through.”

  “Yes, through. I’ll show you.”

  Charlie bundled his pet in his coat and walked straight toward the rock face. He pulled a small green sphere from his pocket. It glowed gently as he spoke the words:

  “Diffisdum rupes.”

  A moment later, a thin crack appeared in the wall of rock – a tiny seam running up from the ground to far above their heads. Then, gradually and silently, the crack grew in width to about two or three inches, and suddenly split apart with a whispering sound until it was a gap of about four feet across.

  Lillian looked into the new hole. It was filled with darkness, but seemed to be cut several yards deep into the mountain.

  “Tada!” said Charlie, grinning.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a pathway, dear Lillian! It goes straight through this here mountain. Well – not straight through. You’ll need a guide. And, as it turns out, I happen to be a very good one.”

  Lillian had not counted on enlisting help from any of the inhabitants of the forest, but she didn’t seem to have much choice. It was either that or take the long way around. Or, get lost inside the mountain.

  “Fine. Let’s go. I am in kind of a hurry, so let’s move as quickly as we can, all right?”

  “Of course, of course,” said Charlie, leading the way into the mouth of the dark gateway of rock.

  Charlie’s green stone glowed more brightly in the cave, but Lillian also lit up her staff to help show the way. The air inside was cool and damp.

  After a few minutes, Charlie broke the silence.

  “So, what’s your business in the Forest of Bann, anyway?” he asked with a friendly air, his voice echoing dully in the narrow cavern.

  “Personal.”

  “Well, that’s obvious, innit? I mean, if it were business business, I suppose you’d just walk right up to the front door of th
e Regent Chief himself and announce you were there to sell something or whatever, right?”

  “Regent Chief? So Vitchoti is still running things, eh? No-good usurper.” The last part was muttered under her breath.

  “Aye, he is a dark character, inney? Never liked him meself. Now, his predecessor – the Earl – he was a good bloke, he was.”

  Lillian gulped. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

  “Uh, yes, yes. You, uh, never told me what you were doing here – or where you’re going.”

  Lillian sighed again. “If you must know, I’m going to the Forbidden Cave.”

  “Oh really? Well, that is interesting. An adventurer, are you?”

  “No. Just a mother,” she said softly.

  After a while, their course turned left, then right, then reached a three-way fork in the tunnel.

  Charlie led the way to the left, and the tunnel descended.

  Some time later, a two-way fork, and he went right, and the tunnel rose back up. Soon, a faint light appeared ahead.

  “Nearly there,” said Charlie.

  When they emerged from the tunnel, he put his pygmy behemoth down on the ground and took a seat on a fallen log, catching his breath from the brisk walk. The animal stirred, and he gently stroked its spiky fur.

  In an effort to reestablish her bearings, Lillian recited her pathfinder charm.

  “What was that you just mumbled?” asked Charlie.

  “Just needed to find my way again,” said Lillian. “Well, thank you for seeing me through the mountain. I’ll be off now.”

  “Wait,” said Charlie. “Look, there’s dangers in this forest, Lillian. Let me come along, help you. Cairns here – that’s his name – he can sniff out trouble and give us early warnings. Promise I won’t let him bite you.