Antello jumped to his feet. “My pin is missing,” he howled. “Master Caulder gave it to me for winning a competition. They took it right off my sleeping body. What is going on?”
Lyra stood staring off into the woods. “I don’t get it,” she muttered. “Two small insignificant items taken and nothing else. No weapons. No food. No tools. Not even the horses. Do you think it was Syman and he was trying to tell us he is alive?”
Antello shook his head. “More likely his ghost telling us that he still cares and watches over us,” sighed Antello. “If he were alive he would have woken us. It cannot be the invaders, or they would have killed us or taken us. I cannot believe that anyone could waltz in here and take something off me without me waking up. It had to be either a spirit or some crazy animal that likes shiny things.”
“Yes,” agreed Lyra as she shoved her mother’s ring on her finger and felt her throat for the chain one more time. “Whatever it was, we had better be moving before the invaders start backtracking and find us standing here talking.”
Antello and Lyra gathered up their belongings and loaded the horses for travel. Within moments they were mounted and heading as close to south as Antello was capable of determining.
Chapter 8
Spirit of the Woods
Antello led at a slow but steady pace through the ancient fargi forest. Clearly the sun had risen, but the forest remained a patchwork or grays and blacks as the sunlight failed to penetrate the canopy of forest giants. The woods were uncommonly quiet, unlike the forest near the Academy, which always filled Lyra with delight. Lyra used to liken the forest sounds to a symphony of nature with each creature having their own instrument to play. She longed to hear the shrill call of the bluetail or the rustlings of the ground squirrels at play. Looking around at the dark, silent forest sent a chill through Lyra and she wondered if anything at all lived within its boundaries. The wind failed to penetrate the grove of huge wooden monsters and even the sound of the horses’ hooves seemed to be swallowed up within a short distance. Lyra’s attempt at humming a light tune was met with a scowl from Antello as he turned and signaled for silence. Lyra pouted as she grudgingly lapsed back into silence and followed Antello along the nonexistent trail.
Time was abstract for Lyra as they plodded along and her mind began to drift to happier times, so she was slightly startled when Antello halted and pointed towards the trees ahead. Lyra’s eyes followed the direction of his finger and saw the horse, a single horse grazing on the sparse ground vegetation. The horse had no blanket or saddle, only short reins adorned it. Antello indicated for Lyra to wait and he rode quietly towards the solitary animal. Lyra watched as he rode up alongside the horse and lifted the short reins, looking anxiously about him as he did so. Satisfied that it was not a trap, Antello signaled for Lyra to join him and she rode forward.
“It is not Syman’s horse,” Antello informed her softly, “and the reins have been cut. Someone freed this animal from where it was tied.”
“Do you think it belongs to the invaders?” Lyra asked, grateful for the sound of her own voice. “And if it is, what does it mean?”
Antello stroked his hairless chin as he pondered her question. “I can’t imagine who else it could belong to,” he answered, “but we can’t be sure. They are the only people we have seen since entering the forest, but it makes no sense. Perhaps there is some infighting among them. I just don’t know.”
“Well,” inquired Lyra, “what do we do with it?”
“Leave it I guess,” answered Antello distractedly, dropping the short reins. “There is another possibility that keeps gnawing at me. What if there are spirits inhabiting these woods? Someone or something visited our campsite last night and stole some really peculiar items. What if the spirits visited the invaders’ campsite as well?”
“I am sure the invaders would have guards standing watch,” Lyra stated. “Anything that got into their camp would have to be a spirit.”
“That is what is bothering me,” confessed Antello. “I can face fighting men to get you to Alamar safely, but I do not know how to fight a spirit. I wonder if my idea of cutting through the Sakova was such a smart idea after all. I didn’t think the invaders would follow us, and I was wrong. I thought the stories of strange things in the Sakova were fairy tales and it looks like I was wrong again. My foolhardy adventure has already cost us Syman and I am afraid I will not succeed in getting you through this alive.”
Lyra knew how much that admission had cost proud Antello and smiled at him “We will escape,” she announced with feigned certainty. “I could not ask for better friends than you and Syman. We will get through this, I am sure.”
Antello recognized the fear and uncertainty in her voice, but let the conversation die. Nodding woodenly, he turned and continued leading the way through the trees. Lyra followed silently, her head hung low, staring at the ground as it passed by. It was several moments later when she realized that she was smelling something other than the old musty smell of the forest and her head snapped up, looking about.
Meat. Cooked meat. There was no mistaking the scent. Someone was, or had been, cooking game in the area. She moved up to Antello and noticed that he too had picked up the scent. They rode side-by-side peering around cautiously for the signs of smoke or people, but they saw nothing. The smell grew stronger and Antello grew more cautious, slowing their pace to a walk.
They halted as one when they saw the campsite. The camp was filled with men and they knew they had stumbled upon the invaders. Swiftly they darted behind a giant fargi tree, but they knew they had been spotted because one of the invaders had turned and stared at them as they tried to hide.
Antello quickly scouted the terrain for anything that might aid their escape when he heard the sharp whistle. He cocked his head and listened as the whistle repeated itself. Lyra grew fidgety as her horse pranced slightly, feeling the excitement of its rider.
“We need to move!” she tensed. “I know at least one of them saw us.”
Antello nodded as he listened again for the whistle. “It’s Syman!” he grinned. “That is Syman’s signal for all clear.”
“How can it be all clear in the middle of the invaders’ campsite?” snapped Lyra. “It is a trick to delay us. Let’s get out of here.”
“But how would they know the signal?” Antello protested. “And why are they not chasing us now? I do not know what is going on, but I am going to investigate it. You stay here and make a run for it if I do not call you in right away.”
“Antello,” Lyra pleaded, “Syman could not subdue the whole campsite. It has to be a trick. Maybe it is the spirits having fun with us. Who knows what they are capable of knowing? Let’s just leave quickly.”
But Antello’s mind was determined and he rode out of hiding and approached the enemy campsite. Refusing to be left alone or to leave Antello to fight on his own, Lyra turned and followed him.
As they approached the campsite through the gloom of the forest, their spirits were lightened as they recognized a smiling Syman, standing in the middle of the campsite. Lyra looked nervously around the camp and noticed that none of the invaders were moving. In fact, all of them were still sleeping. She reached out and poked Antello and he nodded that he had seen the same thing.
When they got closer, Syman called out to them. “Hail friends! Do not worry,” he laughed, “these ones are beyond waking. They are all dead.”
Antello rode up to Syman and leaped off his horse, hugging his lost companion. “I thought you were dead,” he cried. “How did you get away?”
Syman hugged Antello back and then broke the embrace when Lyra arrived. He walked over to her and reached up and dragged her off the horse, encircling her tightly with his arms.