Jonathan Dunn - The Forgotten King

“Hello, fellow prisoner, I am Willard of the forest.”

“And I am Vahan Lee of the northern shores, Friar Willard,” returned the other, frightened and morose in his rich garments. “Trust me, fellow prisoner: I am a loyal Atiltian, and neither a spy nor in the employ of a foreign monarch. I am accused of things that I cannot understand.”

“I said no such thing, and much less thought it, friend. We must be comrades in our difficulty. But how did a man as noble in appearance as yourself come to be imprisoned in these forsaken caverns?”

“I am a loyal Atiltian from Eden,” began the gentlemen, although Eden sat on the southwestern shores of Atilta. “I cannot hide that I am wealthy, but I will contest the charge that I am of an evil disposition. Before my abduction, I was on a journey begun for the liberation of Atilta. I cannot divulge the secrets of my expedition – lest I betray the interests of certain powerful persons – but there is no conspiracy against the well-being of Atilta. No one loves their country more than myself.” The speaker’s face was confident, as if he wholly believed what he said and caused Willard to wholly believe as well.

There was a prolonged silence, until the guards left the chamber for a moment to attend to something else. In their absence, Willard whispered to Vahan Lee, “Have you seen a way of escape?”

“The guards sometimes leave and the entrance is nearby, but we are tied.”

“Not anymore,” and Willard showed his hands, unbound. Horatio had removed the ropes with his claws.

“Undo mine, if you please,” said the surprised gentleman.

“Of course, but keep them wrapped around your wrist, for appearances.”

“As you wish. Thank you.”

Just then, they were interrupted by the return of the guards, with Alfonzo before them.

“Do not think me impolite, Willard, but I must leave you while I attend some urgent tasks which I suspect will reveal more of your past than you would like. As for me, I think there is more to you than even you, yourself, know. When I return, we will see. Until then, farewell,” and he left the room again.

Alfonzo’s footsteps joined those of a dozen rangers and together they faded into the forest, only two remaining to guard the prisoners. Willard waited, unwilling to put them on warning with a failed attempt. Half an hour, then his time came. The guards had turned their backs and were engaged in a game of dice, but chance would not fall their way: Willard and Horatio slipped their bonds and, the first taking a rock and the second his claw, they dispatched the guards with a thud. Their luckless dice struck the floor alongside their luckless bodies, unconscious.

“Come, Vahan, bring your bonds to me,” and the guards were tied as they had tied.

“Now, to the forest! Come quickly and make no noise.”

No rangers were in sight, and the three left the cave without a fight, recovering their weapons from the table beside the entranceway. Willard was a man of the forest, so to the forest he fled. He turned south, further from the road, and led them away in haste. For an hour they continued the pace, though their direction slowly shifted to the west, as did Vahan’s chipmunk eyes, leaping from one tree to the next.

Then, in a voice even smaller than himself, “The road is in the other direction, if I remember correctly.”

“You are a sharp man, Vahan,” Willard winked.

“Should we not be heading for it, then, as the surest means to safety?”

“Only if you seek safety in a bandit’s hands. You are lucky to have been captured by this Alfonzo, for I have seen others that are not so merciful. But you are with me, now, and even Alfonzo will not find us where we are going.”

“Nor will we, I fear! I am no enemy of Atilta, yet I would rather be its friend in the open than in the wild.”

“A man who travels with a bear is not so easily lost.”

“But who travels with a bear?” Vahan looked at Horatio. “Perhaps we should ask for Horatio’s opinion?”

The bear growled lowly, like a newly woken bass.

“I did not catch what he said,” Vahan was confused.

“He speaks only Latin, and he said simply, ‘To the forest.’ Since he agrees with me, that is where we will go.”

Vahan nodded absently, thinking it the worst Latin he had ever heard. Yet he said nothing, for he knew it would not have mattered. When they had traveled three hours and were beyond fears of Alfonzo, their pace slowed and they entertained thoughts of food and drink. Vahan grew discontent with the silence, and yet could think of nothing to break it with. His face began to blow with the doldrums, his eyes to grow shady with the passing sun. Willard saw the discontent beginning, and, knowing they had many miles yet to cross, plucked a dozen acorns from the forest floor and hid them in the folds of his frock. For a moment, he walked on as before; then he threw an acorn against a nearby tree, from which it ricocheted into the far side of Vahan’s head. And the latter did not see Willard’s discreet throw.

“Willard!” he cried in alarm, “There is someone there, lurking in the forest!”

“Nonsense, there are no men here.”

“But there is!” Vahan grew excited. “Someone threw an acorn into my head.”

Willard laughed. “Where do acorns grow, but on the trees? They do not reach the ground without falling.”

“But it struck the side of my head!”

“The wind blew it over as it came down.”

Vahan submitted to this opinion, but kept his eyes and attentions on the forest beyond. Thus occupied, he kept the pace and did not grow worrisome about their course. If he forgot his troubles, Willard was quick to remind him with another acorn, and the gentleman was left a pleasant companion.

In the ancient forest, the sun sets early, for it falls behind the trees long before it falls behind the horizon. Soon it became more twilight than daytime in the forest. While the tree trunks were far apart, their canopies connected above: the forest was a shaded meadow, covered with grasses and wildflowers. But if the day was dreamy, at night the wilderness awoke. Just as twilight stretched its arms, they reached a campsite which Willard had used before: a circular clearing forty feet across, with berry bushes growing in the sunlight and a pile of rocks and branches collected by the river running along its southern side.

Willard was a man of the forest. Within a quarter hour a fire had been born, and a ring of logs, rocks, and pickets formed into a rude wall against the forest beyond. While they prepared camp, Vahan Lee gathered berries, and when the labor was finished they sat down on the grass to enjoy their repast. Once they had filled themselves, all three leaned back on a log parallel to the river, facing the northern side of the clearing.

“Today has gone strangely for me,” Vahan said.

“Nothing that happens is strange,” answered Willard, “For what is strange but that which does not happen?”

“Still, it is a terrifying place: the labyrinth of a bandit, whose occupation is theft and murder. No one loves this country more than myself – I would never betray nor sell its secrets to a foreign monarch – and it pains me to see such lawlessness.”

Willard laughed at his oddly patriotic companion. “There are worse bandits than Alfonzo. The Fardy brothers left the Inn as I did, but he did not take them, though they had more money than I. Why were you taken, for wealth?”

“No, for they left me my gold,” and Vahan took a bag of coins from his shirt. “Yet I cannot be mistaken for a foreign agent, nor someone who is not native to this great land,” but Vahan’s loud declamations were belied by his louder foreign accent.

“We are free now, and Alfonzo’s intentions – whatever they were – no longer concern us,” Willard answered, then fell silent.