Flint?”
The dwarf scowled at the other – a kender, the stag
remembered now. It had been long since he had seen one.
The dwarf went on, “Before the Cataclysm. And it’s not a
good story, not any way at all. The stag chose to betray the
Forestmaster – the ruler of this wood, whoever that is. So he – ”
“Why?” the kender interrupted. The stag put his ears
forward, straining to hear.
The dwarf admitted, “I don’t know why.” The stag
relaxed. “But he wanted to. So he – ”
“It doesn’t make sense if we don’t know why.” The
kender clearly enjoyed interrupting.
“Nothing makes sense to you; let me go on. The stag
went to the king who was pledged to guard the wood – ”
“Guard it against what?”
The dwarf reached for the kender. “I’ll tie back those
foolish ears and make you listen – ”
The half-elf stepped between them. “Let him be, Flint.
Tas, let Flint tell his story.”
“That’s better.” The dwarf took a deep breath, as
much to calm himself as to launch the tale. “Why this stag
wanted to betray the Forestmaster, whatever a
Forestmaster is, I don’t know. It’s an old story, and parts of
it are all muddled by now. The point is, he did betray the
Forestmaster, back in the days when Darken Wood was
only Shadow Wood.”
“That’s not the point at all,” the stag murmured,
knowing he could not be heard. “I’ve always thought the
why of it more important than the sorrows that followed.
Still, I am glad that the why is forgotten.”
The dwarf went on: “There was a human king in the
woods in those days, as well as living soldiers who
guarded the woods. They were pledged to hold the borders
against invaders, or robbers, but especially against the
Dark Army.”
“Who?” That was all that the kender said. Flint
swallowed his annoyance. “The Dark Army. An army of
the dead raised by dark clerics. In exchange for the dead
helping the clerics take the wood from the Forestmaster and
make it a fit place for the Queen of Darkness.”
All, including the stag, shivered.
“The clerics would cast a spell that made the forest a
place where the dead would live again. That’s why the
Forestmaster set guards on the border, to keep the wood
free of evil – but mostly to ward off the Dark Army.”
“But the guards failed,” the half-elf said softly. Flint
snorted again. “Failed? Failed? They broke their vows. The
stag offered the king and his men a chance to hunt in the
woods – the story’s messy there;
I can’t tell whether they hunted the stag or something else
– and the king leaped at it. He was rebellious, or
untrustworthy, or wanted some time away from his job.
That’s another missing detail. Anyway, the king and his
men left their posts at the edge of Shadow Wood, for only
one day.”
“But that was time enough.” The knight who had first
seen the stag sounded grim. Clearly, the stag thought, this
one took oaths seriously. The stag shifted from hoof to hoof
uncomfortably.
The dwarf went on, “Time enough and more. While
King Whoever and his oath-breaking guards hunted, the
clerics led the dead into Shadow Wood. Once inside, the
dead formed a circle, and inside it the dark clerics did
something, it has a name like the Song of Dead Land or the
Chant – ”
The hooded mage in the company said abruptly, “The
Curse of Carrion Land. If it is spoken over a place, all
shadows deepen into darkness, and all the buried dead rise
again.” He smiled at his own knowledge. “It’s quite easy to
do, once you are inside the borders of a land.”
After an uncomfortable silence, Flint said, “Right. And
then the dead hunted down the traitor king and his men as if
they were animals, and killed them and buried them.
“But the dark clerics had made a mistake. The Dark
Army hadn’t been buried in Shadow Wood, which was now
Darken Wood, but the traitor king and his men had been. So
at sunset of the first day, the Dark Army died again, this