Stefan Seitz - Nettlewooz Vol. 1

Prolog

Breakfast after Midnight

Chase in the Dark Forest

A Mysterious Toy Shop

Things Look Bad for Primus

Tales of a Riddleroot

The Old Library

A Strange Discovery

Barrels, Nuts and a Photograph

The Portrait of the Mist Fairy

Whispers in the Dark

The Cavern

A Surprise Delivery

This is what it said on the final pages of a little yellowed book:

In days gone by, so long ago ,

The forest lay there deep and dark .

What happened then we do not know .

A secret that has left its mark .

A Crescent Moon, so slim and bright ,

Cast its glow on the dark night .

The valley, too, and all the hills

Bathed in silver. And the rills

Gleamed and twinkled, flashed and shone .

The forest dark, it slumbered on .

But what was this? So suddenly

Tree and flower, land and sea

Fell silent. From the forest floor

Arose a mist and then before

They knew it, all the grass turned pale .

The mist, it then became a veil .

Those years ago, on that dark night

In the clear glow of the starlight

A white dress from the mist arose

And then some hair, and then a nose:

A fairy bright, who must have been

More beautiful than any seen .

Through tears, the wispy fairy fine

Saw the light of the moon shine .

She loved this moon, though it was fain

To give her always naught but pain

Of every sort. How hot it burned ,

And still her face she to it turned .

Full moons, they caused her so much pain –

She only danced when it was plain

That nought would be there that night present

Except the slender little crescent .

And so she dancéd in its light

And never thought of taking flight .

But in the darkness, hiding there ,

A stranger watched her. O beware!

The south wind cried. Alas, alack!

The fairy never lookéd back

To see the man with dev’lish frown .

Sheer evil with an icy crown .

The dawn broke then, and the dark night

Turned into a morn so bright .

The veil of mist vanished anew

And landed on the grass as dew .

Soft and distant came the sound

Of sobbing, deep and so profound .

The next night fell – but o, so strange!

New Moon was due – but what a change!

The crescent’s rays felt very cold;

They shone into the forest old .

The fairy dancéd, full of glee ,

“The rays – they are not hurting me!”

The south wind cried: “Look out! Now run!”

The fairy turned – but it was done

Too late. A clap of thunder filled the land .

An evil laugh. An icy hand

Took her away. She knew not where .

And there was no more fairy fair .

But then came one almighty crash .

The moon fell down and it did smash

The earth in two. The thunder roared;

The lightning flashed. With one accord

The tall trees rocked and swayed and fell .

The forest croaked its own death knell .

And hail and snow as ne’er before

Smote the land so very poor .

The crown it fell, and darkness, too .

An Ice Age dawned. And then anew ,

From years of frozen sadness felt ,

The ice and snow began to melt .

The years they passéd by the horde

Until the land could be restored .

But ne’er again was there a sight

Of fairy fair by pale moonlight .

And not even the wind doth know

What might be buried far below .

Thistleway was rough and bumpy. Overgrown and in some places more or less impassable, it wound its way through the undergrowth. It was a small path, rendered all the more obscure by the incessant gloom of the Dark Forest. At several points, the old trees grew so close together that even the tiniest ray of light couldn’t find its way through their dense foliage. No two ways about it: the Dark Forest lived up to its name. Anyone who tried to walk through it would have to pick their way between the trees step by step, trying to avoid becoming ensnared in the undergrowth. They would stumble over tree roots, find unforgiving tendrils curling around their ankles, or bang their head on one of the gnarled branches. It was an ordeal: quite the opposite of a pleasant stroll in the woods. However – and despite all its trials and tribulations – Thistleway had one great advantage:

This winding path was, you see, the only one which snaked through the whole of the huge Dark Forest in an unbreakable line from north to south. There was no shorter way to cross it.

So anyone who wanted to take the quickest route from the colonised areas in the north to the Mizzle Meadows in the south – or even further onwards, to the Plumbum Peaks – had to take this path whether they liked it or not. And so very few people chose to make this journey.

It was said that the forest was jinxed; cursed and riddled with dangers. It was the subject of countless tales of ghosts, hauntings and spooky places. Places from which it was said that some travellers had never returned. The superstitious locals therefore settled at a safe distance from the forest and avoided it as much as possible. They occasionally ventured to the edges, but just to collect firewood. Thus only very rarely did anyone reach the Mizzle Meadows, from whence they returned with tales of a crooked tower which stood high up on a hilltop. And here, on this hill, by the gate of the old tower, is where Thistleway also ended.

The rickety ruin of the tower rose crookedly into the sky, looking almost as if the wind had been hiding in it for several centuries. A little half-timbered house jutted out from its eastern wall. It stood there forlornly amidst the walled garden which was a jumble of wildly proliferating undergrowth and mountains of foliage.

Nobody knew when it had been built, or by whom. Even the archives of Wiseville, the capital city of Nettlewooz, listed neither a builder nor an owner. However, it was a long time since anyone in Wiseville had cared about any tumbledown buildings which lay outside the city walls. And they cared least of all about the old tower beyond the forest, with its boarded-up door and shutters hanging wonkily off their hinges. It was thought by the city fathers that the building had long been abandoned and that nobody had lived there for centuries.

Not everyone shared their view, however. In fact, those who lived in the villages nearby thought quite the reverse.

Nocturnal wanderers claimed to have seen light flickering at one of the windows. Other sources reported that they had heard shrill laughter and even terrible screams. The most fantastic stories were passed around; every villager had their own story to tell.