Chapter One: The Blue Forest

   The mothers of Elderthorpe always made grimaces of great concern when one of their children would mention the Blue Forest. Though the children only spoke of the said forest as a joke, for they knew it bothered their mothers and drove them mad with anxiety; they would never actually dare set foot too deeply in the woods that stood but a mere furlong north of the village.

   Truth be told, everyone feared the forest around Elderthorpe, though they showed nothing of it. Indeed, the folk of Elderthorpe could be divided as such: the naïve and innocent youths and the experienced, knowledgeable adults. The adults knew of secrets kept in the forest the children did not: they knew of the goblins and pixies and fairies and sprites that haunted the woods. They knew that the wood was cursed by witches at night – for certain witches had been hung to the branch of a tree for lack of gallows in the village. To keep the children away from the forest, parents had invented all sorts of stories, though they never told the complete truth to the youngsters until they reached maturity. This was because they feared to pique de young ones' curiosity and lead them directly into the dangers of the Blue Forest. Yet, children always managed to disobey and gambol around between the trees as if they were sprites themselves (though they never dared to enter very far).

   Once, a child disappeared in the forest; little Elizabeth Granger, the only daughter of the innkeeper. For some time the wood went without any children at all. But, no sooner did the New Year come could the laughter of playing children be heard from between the trees again. One could never stop the folly of youth – however, as soon as dusk threatened to engulf Elderthorpe, every child was safe at home, all of them fearing the werewolf legends told by their elders and remembering the mysterious vanishing of Elizabeth Granger.

   As a result, there was a great deal of mystery surrounding the Blue Forest. Many legends circulated in the area. In fact, Elderthorpe was rather legendary in the northern region for its terrible, cursed forest. This was due in no small part to the witch graves found in the woods and the makeshift scaffolds found under the remains of mouldy nooses in trees. It also was of no help that Elderthorpe was nestled on the edge of a major trading route, which meant that the forest ran along the trade road as well. It was said by some tradesmen who travelled by that road that the Blue Forest was impossible to circumvent, and that it stretched to the end of the world. This was, of course, nonsense; but the forest did stretch from Elderthorpe to the high peaks of the Dragon's Spine – and insurmountable obstacle in itself, which explained the rumours.

   Not that the people of Elderthorpe were wrong to have their suspicions about the forest: there were many peculiar things about the woods which would give anyone good reason to be afraid. On moonlit nights the forest shone of the eeriest silver-blue, a phenomenon which resulted in it being named Blue Forest. Some people thought it was just a trick of the insubstantial moonlight, but most swore that the trees themselves seemed to glow blue from the inside. On those same nights where the forest shone in brilliant blue, those living closest to the woods claimed that they could hear voices, moans and whispers coming from behind the trees, possibly from creatures that remained just out of sight in the darkness.

   But the strangest thing, by far, in the Blue Forest, was what the elders of Elderthorpe called the "White Clearing". This was a place deep inside the woods, about three hours' walk away from the forest outskirts, where the trees grew so closely together that the surroundings were completely dark, giving off the sinister feeling of being engulfed by blackness. No sound could be heard at that point: the chirping of birds died away quickly once one entered the forest and, other than some quiet, menacing creature, there were few chances of finding any life so deep in the woods. There was no path between the trees at this point. It had long stopped, or perhaps vanished in the undergrowth decades ago from lack of use; the trees grew so closely together one had to carefully squeeze themselves between the trunks to keep advancing.

   That was when one would lay eyes upon the White Clearing. It was duly named: a large clearing, about a quarter mile in diameter, opened up before the forest wanderer, allowing him to glimpse the sky for the first time in hours. On the southern half of the clearing, the half facing Elderthorpe, the trees were grey or brown, with coarse bark and green leaves. The northern half of the clearing, however, was entirely white, from the roots to the leaves. Like the forest at night, the white half of the clearing seemed to emanate an unearthly glow, though there was no actual light coming from the white trees. These trees were all different sorts: some were oaks, others were birches, other, still, were yews. But they all shared one thing in common: their barks were as smooth and even as if they had been sanded.
   
   In the dead centre of this ghostly clearing stood a single white elder tree.

   It was a gnarled old thing, twisting its white branches hideously in all directions before reaching with them towards the sky in what seemed like a pitiful attempt to scratch at the heavens with its twigs. The leaves of the elder never swayed, no matter how much wind seemed to assault them – a storm could come to pass and not a single leaf would be severed from its branch. The trunk, on the other hand, was singed black at the point where it was rooted to the earth. The elder seemed to have been solidly entrenched in the ground for centuries, though the soil was blackened and covered in soot in a wide radius, as if the forest floor had been ablaze only recently. Not one blade of grass or green leaf could be found where the soil was burned.

   This white elder tree was the most feared entity in the Blue Forest. The people of Elderthorpe were convinced the tree was alive somehow, and that it had a mind of its own. Thrice a year, on the equinoxes and the summer solstice, a few brave souls of Elderthorpe would venture valiantly into the Blue Forest and lay offerings at the foot of the white elder tree. The offerings did not make a difference in the harvest, or grant any luck during the summer season, but the inhabitants of Elderthorpe hoped it kept them safe of the uncanny curse the white elder was said to carry.

   No one had ever crossed the line marked by the white elder. Ever. People believed it was far too dangerous: many thought that little Elizabeth had disappeared exactly because she had crossed that accursed limit. Rumour had it that Purgatory laid beyond the white elder, who was the guardian of the gates to expiation. No living soul dared go beyond this silent sentinel, worried to they might attract the anger of the ancient gods, or find themselves trapped, body and soul, in eternal torment to make amends for their sins – something no one really felt ready for.

   Every now and then, a foreigner, or a foolishly valiant knight would come to Elderthorpe with the intention of conquering the mystery of the Blue Forest, and freeing the trade route from the burden of the accursed woods. Some heeded the villagers' warnings and did not go passed the white elder. Those unwise enough to go beyond that tree, though, never returned.

   It so happened that the ruler of the realm, King Roland the Mild, had heard of the Blue Forest's strangeness and was attributing it to a curse, possibly cast in the time of King Lyall Wild Dragon, over five centuries earlier. He found the tales of the forest truly unsettling and decided, one day, to send a group of his best knights to investigate.



   It was a clear summer's day when the knights arrived. Six of them in all. The sun was ablaze with gold in the pale blue sky and not a cloud was in sight. Elderthorpe seemed like a truly peaceful village upon their arrival, to such a point that a knight even wondered aloud: 'Look at the serenity of these trees; listen to the chirp of the birds! There can't be anything foul lurking in that forest!'

   Indeed, the Blue Forest looked perfectly benign in daytime.

   One of the knights, named Owayne Wyvernblaed, scolded the other who thought danger to be impossible in the Blue Forest. 'Have you not yet learned that danger can lurk anywhere, Benedict?' he asked his companion severely. 'After all the battles we have fought, I thought that you, of all people, would know that evil always hides its face with the most cunning disguises.'

   The knight named Benedict muttered something apologetically and was still. The knights kept silently to their route into the village, leading their mounts to the town centre, where the Primrose, Elderthorpe's only inn, stood. As they made their way towards the inn, many children abandoned their play and ran after the knights, shrieking happily in welcome as they jogged along behind the horses.

   The riders spurred on their horses a little faster to get away from the children and soon reached the inn's door. Elegantly, the armour-clad men dismounted and looked around, appreciating their surroundings properly for the first time since entering Elderthorpe. Before they could see much, however, the door to the inn opened and a young boy with messy hair and freckles burst out of it.

   'I'll take your mounts to the stables good sirs!' he cried as he ran to meet them, tripping over his feet in his enthusiasm. Some of the knights gave the stable boy a look of utter indifference, but Owayne Wyvernblaed gave him a warm smile as the young boy took his horse's reins. Wyvernblaed gave his steed a grateful pat for valiantly undertaking the long journey from his majesty's castle to this tiny northern hamlet and followed the other knights into the inn, leaving the boy to lead the six horses to the stables.

   The inside of the inn was fairly simple and it was obvious that it only ever received very few visitors – tradespeople rarely stopped for the night, from fear of the nearby woods. Nonetheless, there was an inviting, homely feel about the inn's interior.

   A large grate was alight with a huge, sweltering fire that easily spread its warmth in what seemed to be the inn's dinning hall: there were three large, scrubbed wooden tables and wooden benches surrounding each, causing the room to be rather cramped. Two large cruciform chandeliers, each carrying four candles, hung over tables; hardened wax hanging off them like large opaque icicles. Upon the whitewashed walls were sconces, in which more candles stood, and a number of other things – among which were a dried wreath of flowers, a wood carving of the Holy Virgin and child, the skull and antlers of a stag, and an old rusty shield on which a coat of arms must once have been visible – that gave the room a comfortable, familiar feel. A scrumptious odour of some stew with leeks and onions wafted through a door at the back of the hall (which probably led to the kitchen) and Benedict's stomach gave an audible rumble – the knights had eaten very little on their journey to the village.

   The knights looked around. Only a few strides away from the door stood a small table upon which a large bunch of dried flowers lay, along with a thick, leather bound book, a quill and bunch of mismatched candles. Owayne Wyvernblaed, seeing no one there, called out loudly, 'Hello?', so that his voice echoed through the room. Seconds later, footsteps could be heard thundering about upstairs and, soon, a somewhat dishevelled figure came crashing down a wooden staircase, just off the left side of the hall.

   Slipping down the last three steps and clutching the walls for support from fear of landing on her bottom, Catherine Granger, the innkeeper's wife, burst clumsily into the inn's main hall. Oblivious of the six knights staring at her, she strode right passed them and went to stand behind the wooden table in front of them.

   She was a woman of short stature and had a plump build which strained heavily on the seams of her light brown dress. An apron which, Owayne Wyvernblaed thought, must once have been white (it was mostly grey and yellow by now), was tied only a few inches below the woman's large breasts and was tied as tightly as possible around her rather wide circumference. The few strands that had escaped her white coif were curly and of a mousey auburn which was starting to turn grey.

   Catherine Granger sniffed loudly, the nostrils of her broad nose flared as she did so. With chubby, grime coated fingers, she tried to put some order into her dishevelled cap, before finally looking up at the visitors. She gasped in surprise at the sight of them.
'Oh, my!' she breathed, astonished to find six fine men-at-arms assembled around her little table; obviously she had rarely – if ever – received so many guests at once.

   'Welcome good sirs,' she said, making an awkward curtsey she hoped was polite. 'What may I offer you?'

   'We'd greatly appreciate if you could spare food and lodgings for a week, good madam,' Owayne Wyvernblaed said kindly. Catherine's round cheeks blushed heavily and she looked away with almost maidenly bashfulness, giggling quietly. 'Why certainly, good sirs,' she said. 'Separate rooms for all?'

   'Yes, if you please, madam.'
   
   Again, Catherine blushed. Her stubby fingers fumbled with the cover of the book and she dropped it to the floor before being able to open it. She then found a blank page and handed the book to the knights, handing them quill and inkpot as well. 'If you'll just sign your names here, please,' she asked.

   The knights did so and, when it was his turn to sign, Benedict asked whether they could have some food soon. 'Oh, yes,' Catherine said fondly, 'the stew should almost be done. Please, (she gestured towards the tables) have a seat and I'll bring you food and ale as soon as possible.'

   The knights did not need telling twice. They walked around Catherine's little table and seated themselves at the large table furthest from the fireplace – the room was starting to feel stifling hot. Taking off their travelling cloaks and placing their satchels and weapons by their feet, the knights took place at the table, happy to finally get some form of rest. They determined only to inspect the Blue Forest the next morning: they would enjoy a good night's rest before confronting any danger.

   As they discussed the matter of the forest, an old man hobbled into the hall. He was thin, not to say emaciated, and his back was heavily hunched. His face looked ancient and ill, his skin blemished by brown spots and yellowed by time. The hair sparsely sticking out of his head like wire was white, though it had taken on a tinge of grey from the grime that encrusted it.

   Sulking into the room, the old man seemed unaware of the knights' presence. He shuffled to the fireplace, eyes fixed on his feet (perhaps it was not possible for him to really look up, as his back was so bent), and started jabbing at the logs with a poker.
The knights, after observing him for a while, decided he wouldn't notice them and so ignored him. They returned to their conversation about the woods.

   'But do you believe these woods could really be haunted?' asked Benedict, his brow anxiously furrowed. 'I mean, there's nothing we can do against ghosts, right?'

   'I don't believe the forest is haunted,' the gruff voice of a knight named George announced proudly. 'I'm not scared of old wives' tales!'

   'I don't think the forest is haunted either,' Owayne said pensively. 'But that doesn't mean we should let our guard down. There may not be ghosts in there, but other magical beings –'

   'Please, Wyvernblaed!' George scoffed loudly. 'You're not going to tell me you believe there might be fairies in there, do you?'

   'My mind is open to that possibility,' said Owayne with a patient smile. 'For all we know, there may be witches and werewolves in there, like the villagers report, or it might all be superstition and nothing is in there at all…'

   'I, for one,' another knight named Alfred announced proudly, 'believe that children are behind it! They probably sneak out of their homes at night to play ghosts and frighten their parents!'

   'True,' Owayne mused. 'That is a possibility. But the village elder we met last week said children stayed inside after nightfall – and he mentioned something about a "White Clearing" and a white elder tree –'

   'That tree is spawned from Hell!' a wheezy voice shouted from a corner. The knights looked around with a start. The old man was glaring at them through bulging, watery blue eyes; fear written all over his gaunt features. 'Whatever you do, sirs, do not go near the White Clearing, or the elder tree! You'll forfeit your lives if you do! There's many a brave soul that has perished for getting too close to that evil tree!'

   'And you are?' George asked patronizingly.

   The old man raised himself a little higher, which was not much considering how he could hardly straighten his back, and looked at Sir George with an offended air. 'I, sir?' he asked haughtily. 'I am the master of this inn, William Granger.'

   'Oh,' George said, taken aback. 'My apologies.' He turned away and glared at a spot on the table instead.

   'I still think it's the children's doing!' Alfred said, ignoring William Granger's intervention. 'Think about it, men! How many accounts are there about the White Clearing being a dangerous place: only three! And all of them are the accounts of children. No adults have ever thought the so-called "White Clearing" was dangerous. It's a place of worship for them! They probably painted the trees white themselves and the children –'

   'The children are not to blame!' old William Granger interrupted again. 'The white elder is truly dangerous: we honour it only to keep our village safe from its evil. The children are the ones who are in the gravest danger: the spirits of the Blue Forest are after them alone! The three who have escaped were lucky to do so! My daughter, my poor Bessie, on the other hand…'

   The old man's voice trailed off, and he looked away from the knights. Pulling a filthy handkerchief that hung from his belt, he blew his nose loudly. Owayne cast William Granger a look of pity. He felt sorry for the old man: they had heard from the village elders the story of little Elizabeth Granger's disappearance - Owayne Wyvernblaed, the only one among his companions to have children, understood the old man; he knew he would feel distraught forever if one of his children was to disappear.

   'Please, Master Granger,' Owayne said quietly, his voice kind and soothing. 'Tell us about Elizabeth.'

   The other knights looked at Owayne Wyvernblaed with comprehension dawning on their faces. But their expressions quickly changed and they looked at Owayne as if he was insane. None of them wanted to hear this old man's take on an old wives' tale! But, under the severe look Owayne gave them, none of them protested.

   Old William Granger looked up, sniffling loudly. 'Wh-what?' he asked thickly. 'You want to know what happened to my – my dear little Bessie?'

   Owayne nodded. The old man's eyes suddenly lit up. He seemed happy to have an audience – he probably had no one to listen to him ever since Elizabeth's disappearance, almost forty years prior.

   'Well,' he began. 'My Bessie was always a good girl. She never wet her sheets when she was a babe ('Just tell us about her disappearance!' George muttered, but he quailed under Owayne's look) and, as soon as she was old enough to move about and think for herself, she began helping her mother around the inn.

   'My Bessie was beautiful. She was thin and tall for her age. Eyes and hair like her mother! A true beauty…' the old man sighed heavily.

   'Back then, my Bessie was only seven years of age – oh that was many years ago – she and the other children always played in the Blue Forest. The children are not allowed to do so anymore, but, back then, though we feared the forest, we didn't think it was all that dangerous to let them play in it during daylight.

   'The children were playing at hiding – you know; that game where some children have to close their eyes while the others go and hide and, after that, the one who had his eyes closed has to look for the others. Anyway, Bessie lost a few times and she became angry. From what the other children told me – of course, they've all grown up now – she complained that there weren't enough good hiding places on the edge of the forest, so she requested they go deeper into the forest.

   'Now, my wife and I, as did the other parents I am sure, had often warned the children not to go into the forest out of eyesight from the village. We feared they might get lost in there and we didn't know what might happen to them if they were still in the forest by nightfall – the wood fairies and the spirits that haunt the forest only come out at night, see?

   'But the children, youthful and foolish as they always are, decided to be reckless and they heeded my daughter's suggestion. They went farther in. Not much at first, but, as the game went on, they wandered deeper and deeper into the forest until – or so I was told – they could barely move between the trees any longer.

   'But my Bessie insisted on one last round before they went back home. You must understand, good sirs!' there was a desperate plea in William Granger's voice, and his eyes were filled with tears. 'My Bessie was a good girl! She was a truly good child! But she was daring – far too daring for her own good. It wasn't her fault! She was a good girl…!'

   'We understand, Master Granger,' Owayne said kindly. 'I have a son just like that. Please, continue your story…'

   'Well, for their last game, Bessie boasted that she would beat all the other children and stay hidden the longest. As the children left to hide, she wandered deeper into the forest than any other of them dared.

   'Then, the seeker, a boy – Kay, he's the blacksmith now; lives not far from here – began searching for the hidden children. He was the eldest, so he thought that, so deep in the forest, it was his duty to find them all and bring them back safely. He found the children with difficulty; the woods were too dark to see properly.

   'In the end, only my little Bessie was missing. Weary and keen on returning to the village, Kay and the others began searching for her together. They called her name and trudged through the forest, deeper and deeper, until they reached a huge clearing.

   'That was the White Clearing and, Kay told me, they had never seen so strange a place before. They had heard of it – oh, yes – one girl, Rowena – she was a girl I fancied when I was a young boy myself, but she married a milliner in a neighbouring town… died a few years ago, bless her soul – she spoke of the White Clearing to the children. I think she's the only one before Kay and my Bessie to have laid eyes upon that accursed place – though everyone has seen it since…

   'Anyway, Kay said that the clearing was half ordinary forest, half pure white and that, in the perfect middle of the circle of trees, stood a large white elder tree. It had rained that morning and the ground was wet, so Kay and the other children were able to make out the tracks of my little Bessie, tracks that went beyond the white elder and into the line of white trees. They called out her name some more, but Bessie didn't reply. Perhaps she was too deep in, but Kay and the others didn't dare approach the white elder, which was wise of them.

   'After calling for a time, the sky over the clearing was turning dark. Kay says there was a strange rustling coming from the white trees and something that sounded awfully like a growl. Frightened, the children ran for their lives, only reaching this village when night had already fallen.

   'We, that is to say, us parents, were all relieved to see them arrive: we had been worried about them all day, you know? (He looked specifically at Owayne as he said this, the latter nodded.) But, when my Bessie was the only one not to return well…'
The old Granger's voice broke. Owayne got up from his chair and went to place a comforting hand on the old man's shoulder. 'I thank you for telling us this, master Granger,' Owayne said sympathetically.

   At that moment, a door to the side creaked open and Catherine Granger came out, carrying bowls of stew, a large loaf of fresh bread and tankards of mead all balanced precariously in her overloaded arms. Both William Granger and Owayne went to assist her and the knights enjoyed a delicious meal, not mentioning the Blue Forest again.




   The next morning was as bright as the previous day. Not a cloud was to be seen in the friendly summer sky. Owayne Wyvernblaed sat on the doorstep of the Primrose, looking out at the village of Elderthorpe.

   Children were running around in the streets of the village, shrieking with glee and laughing at some game they were playing. Women with baskets full of laundry, stood close together, gossiping animatedly and, sometimes, stealing glances at Owayne, blushing and giggling timidly. Men were strolling through the streets in groups, happily discussing daily matters. A man, with a cart pulled by a bull, was leaving the village and leading his contraption towards the fields.

   Owayne smiled at the sight of this: if it had not been for the forest, Elderthorpe would truly be a haven of peace and joy – unlike his majesty's castle, where betrayal lurked around every corner. One could not let down their guard there, even when asleep, otherwise there was a strong chance that a jealous rival might make their sleep eternal. The castle was a foul place, with far too much intrigue to raise young children.

   Owayne had two: a boy and a girl. His beloved wife, Adelaide, died giving birth to their youngest: their daughter Anne. Anne, who was eight years old, was a quiet and kind-hearted girl, demure and polite and talented in dressmaking and song; she would make a perfect lady-in-waiting for the queen someday.

   His son, on the other hand, was bold and cunning and somewhat reckless. Ulric was thirteen years old and he dreamed to be a knight like his father. He spent each day training with the sword and had already become the squire of Owayne's good friend, Sir Tristan "Loyal Sword". Thus he was gaining valuable experience and learning the ways of chivalry. Owayne smiled at the thought of his son: he was a hot-headed child, determined to make his place in the world through heroism and great actions. He had stubbornly nagged his father to allow him to accompany him to Elderthorpe, but Owayne had refused: if the Blue Forest was really populated by magical beings, he did not want to put his son in unnecessary danger.

   'But I'm thirteen!' Ulric had cried in outrage. 'I'm a squire! I have every right to accompany you, father!'

   Owayne had argued with his son for a long time, firmly refusing every time his son tried to plead with him.

   'You never let me go with you!' Ulric had said angrily. 'What if you need my protection?'

   Owayne remembered laughing at this. He had patted his son on the head and told him that he would be accompanied by five good knights, his majesty's finest. When Ulric pouted disappointedly, Owayne had told him that Sir Tristan would certainly benefit of his protection. 'The castle is a far more foul and dangerous place than you like to think, Ulric,' Owayne had told him. 'Sir Tristan has many enemies here. Besides, I wouldn't leave anyone but yourself to care for your sister. Protect her for me while I'm gone.'

   This had been the winning argument. Knowing that he would be protecting someone, Ulric felt like he was on a mission and duly accepted his brotherly responsibility. There had been no more argument afterwards.

   Sighing deeply at the thought of his son, from whom he had been separated for a fortnight already – the road to Elderthorpe had been torturously long – Owayne entered the inn. The book and quill were still on the table inside.

   Owayne sat down, picked up the quill and dipped it in ink. He opened the book at an empty page and tore the parchment as quietly as he could from its cover. He had taught both his son and daughter to read and write in Latin, French and English and he felt confident that a letter from him would be well received.

   Pausing for a moment, with his quill hanging over the parchment, Owayne reflected on what he could say. Nothing very eventful had happened yet – he knew that would disappoint Ulric. Anne would just be happy to know he was safe and sound (she worried about him just as much as his wife had used to, though she was considerably younger).

   Owayne looked up – he had left the door of the inn open – he could glimpse the sunshine outside and the gambolling children. Smiling to himself, Owayne began to write.

                                                                  ◊†◊

   The sun was a blazing spot of the brightest dark-gold and it already hung low over the treetops of the Blue Forest as the six knights set out. Catherine Granger tearfully wished them good luck; William Granger warned them not to go farther than the white elder tree, or they would be sure to meet their demise. A few villagers, who had heard about their expedition, came by the inn to wish them luck and a safe return.

   It took longer than the knights would have liked it to: the sun kept creeping lower and lower as the flood of well-wishers kept growing. In the end, Sir George gruffly announced that he appreciated everyone's attention, but it was time for them to leave.
Already seated on his mount, George dug his heels into the beast's flanks and cantered away into the forest. He was soon followed by four others. Owayne Wyvernblaed hung back.
His horse was pacing nervously – it was keen to follow the others – but Owayne made it walk in circles as he addressed William and Catherine Granger.

   'I thank you for your help and the information you have given me,' he told them earnestly. 'And I promise I shall find out what happened to your daughter. You have my word.'

   Catherine broke into tears. Sobbing hysterically, she leaned against Owayne's steed (unable to reach more than his knees while he sat on horseback) and, while crying into the horse's coat, she thanked Owayne from the bottom of her heart and told him that he was a blessed gift of the heavens.

   William Granger, on the other hand, took hold of Owayne's ankle, a grave look upon his withered face. 'Turn back now, sir,' he hissed. 'Turn back now and forget about this accursed forest! It is not worth you losing your life: you cannot win against whatever is in there!'

   Owayne addressed a grateful smile to the old man and pried his hand away from his ankle. 'I thank you, Master Granger,' he said, 'but, as a knight, I fear no fairies. I will be victorious – you have my word.'

   And he followed his companions without further ado, disappearing into the forest.




   The trees were growing closely together now. So closely, in fact, that there was no more light in the forest at all. The darkness pressed heavily upon the knights' eyeballs, causing claustrophobia to take hold of some of them. Benedict whimpered. 'This is worse than when we fought the Danes!' he whispered fearfully. Owayne thought he even heard him utter a dry sob.

   In all truth, Owayne was starting to grow anxious as well. No matter how long they were plunged in this darkness – and it had already been hours – it did not seem to relinquish, nor would his eyes grow accustomed to the gloom. The horses became more hesitant with each step, also afraid, and they would surely have turned back, had their riders not held a firm hand on their reins.

   A loud snapping noise echoed through the obscurity. Owayne jumped and looked around, but he could see nothing. He realized with a twinge of fear that this was the first and only sound they had heard since entering the Blue Forest. Trying to calm his anxiety, he pressed the folded parchment, the letter he had written to his children, against his chest.

   'Did you hear that?' Alfred whispered. 'Is something coming?'
Another snapping sound. Much closer this time. Owayne recognized the sound as the breaking of a twig, as if someone was trudging through the undergrowth towards them. Looking around apprehensively and cautiously drawing his sword, Owayne muttered: 'Who's there?'

   There was no reply.

   For a moment, everything was silent. Owayne felt his heart beating frantically. It was pounding painfully against his chest and Owayne thought his companions might hear it if it kept pulsing so hard. He could hear Benedict, who was closest to him, muttering a prayer under his breath, his words punctuated by frightened sobs. Owayne waited with bated breath, afraid he might hear another sound.

   When none came after what seemed like an eternity, Alfred suggested, from somewhere to Owayne's right; 'Shall we turn back and return during daylight?'

   But the other's reply was drowned by the loud rustling of leaves, as if a strong wind blew through the trees, though none of the knights felt even the slightest hint of a breeze – in fact, the air of the forest was stifling, like a sealed vault. Owayne shivered, whether it was because of the non-existent wind or out of fear, he could not tell.

   Loud breathing was coming from behind him. Owayne suspected it was Benedict, frightened out of his wits by the rustling sound. He wanted to whisper reassuring words to his companion, when he felt a cold, foul smelling breath right behind his ear.
Owayne yelled in surprise and swung his sword at the darkness behind him, cutting nothing but air. 'Did you feel that?' George asked nervously. 'Someone was breathing in my ear!' Benedict cried.

   'Shhh!' Owayne ordered them, suddenly much more alert than he had been before. His fear had left him and adrenaline had taken over.

   For another long, tantalizing moment, nothing could be heard. The knights and their mounts had gone quite still, all waiting fearfully for the next sound.

   Suddenly, the horses all began whinnying, rearing and kicking. Something had either provoked them or caused them an extreme fright. Rearing uncontrollably, Owayne's horse managed to unseat him and he plummeted to the ground with such force that the wind was knocked out of him. His horse kicked – Owayne was able to evade the murdering hooves by scrambling blindly towards the first tree he could find – and he heard it canter away into the blackness.

   The other horses made wild noises, rearing and kicking as well, for a few more minutes – the groans and dull thuds told Owayne that each horse successfully unseated its rider – and the other mounts also galloped away at full speed. After all the commotion, the sudden silence pressed loudly against Owayne's eardrums.

   Trying to free his head of fear, Owayne whispered: 'Is everyone all right?'
A few groans replied. It did not tell him much – for all he knew, the same person could have made these groans, or, he shuddered at the thought, some evil trickster spirit was imitating the groans of his companions.

   Owayne grasped around blindly, restlessly searching for his comrades. His fingers kept hitting roots or foliage, but his hands could not seem to find a face or limb.
Owayne was growing desperate. He wished the darkness oppressing his eyes would stop, that he would see something at last.

   Then, the forest was suddenly lit by an eerie, silvery-blue glow. For a moment, the sudden surge of light blinded Owayne as much as the darkness had. Blinking and trying to shield himself from the brightness, Owayne tried to make out whatever was radiating such a glaring light.

   After a moment, he could make out straight, dark shapes through the light. 'Hello?' he called out desperately to the shapes, which did not move. 'Wh-who are you?'
There came no answer. Owayne blinked again, his eyes were getting used to the brilliant glow, though his eyes were watering from the pain of the sudden brightness.

   At last, he could properly make out the dark shapes that stood before him. Trees. All the trees in the forest were emitting a bluish glow. It was a faint silvery radiance, but the number of trees was so large that the amount of light was greatly magnified and created a dazzling glare.

   In the light from the trees, the surroundings all looked either blue or white. Owayne allowed his gaze to search for his comrades.

   It was rather easy, with all the light that now flooded the forest. Owayne saw Alfred and George, standing but a few feet away from him, looking just as surprised and distressed as he did, their faces ghostly white in the angry blue glare of the trees.

   Owayne's eyes continued to wander. John and Cedric, the two other knights, lay on the ground, unmoving. Fear gripped Owayne. Were they –?

   But, as he approached, Owayne saw that their chests were rising and falling steadily: they were simply unconscious. Alfred and George also came closer. Alfred audibly sighed with relief at seeing their comrades alive.

   Owayne's eyes continued to wander, searching for their last comrade… Where was Benedict?

   Owayne walked around the forest, following the traces of the frightened horses – had Benedict not been unseated as well? He looked up into the distance and, at last, he spotted him.

   Smiling with joy and relief, Owayne rushed towards him, but he soon stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw. Benedict's body looked broken, like a dismantled doll: his limbs were sticking out at odd angles and Owayne even believed he could see a bone splinter protruding from the skin.

   Feeling slightly sick, Owayne edge closer to the body, carefully avoiding Benedict's broken limbs, afraid he might cause him pain. But the truth washed over Owayne as he looked upon Benedict's face: the young man was no more. Shining as whitely as the rest of the surroundings, the face was covered in silver shining blood. Benedict's mouth stood open lopsidedly, liquid streaming from his rigid lips, though, in the deathly light, Owayne could not tell whether it was blood or saliva.

   Benedict's eyes, so full of the spirit of youth just hours before, were blank and staring, eerily reflecting the whiteness of the light. A hoof shaped mark on Benedict's chest made him suspect that Benedict had died crushed by his mount after being unseated. Tears stung his eyes: Benedict had been the youngest among them and had reminded Owayne of his son. The letter he had written to his children, which he had placed beneath his shirt, over his heart, felt warm against his chest as grief washed over him. It was like his children were trying to comfort him.

   Muttering a prayer for Benedict and placing his body in a position that was more becoming, Owayne pulled out Benedict's sword and placed it across his folded hands. He then pulled the young knight's eyelids closed, allowing the youth, who had left for the heavens far too soon, to sleep forever.

   Clearing his throat from the sobs that clogged it, Owayne marched grimly towards his other companions and, in a hushed whisper, as if fearing loud voices might offend Benedict's spirit, he told them about the fate of their youngest comrade.

   He ignored the looks of shock on their faces. 'We need to move on!' he commanded sternly. 'There is something we came here to do – Benedict will not have died in vain!'
And, remembering the promise he had made back in Elderthorpe, Owayne began to weave between the glowing tree trunks, in search of whatever might have caused Benedict's death and Elizabeth Granger's disappearance – he hoped it was one and the same creature, so he could be done with it in one strike.

   George and Alfred hung back, attempting to rouse the other two who had been knocked out. 'Leave them!' Owayne snapped. 'They'll only be a burden to us if they're dazed!' George and Alfred obediently stepped back from their comrades and followed Owayne through the glowing trees.

   They walked in silence for a long while. The light was helpful to see where they were going, but the trees kept growing closer together and, before long, the knights had great difficulty to squeeze in between the large trunks. Still, Owayne trudged on. He scraped his shoulders on the bark of the trees that seemed to block the passage to wherever he was headed, but he did not care. The blood that ran down his arms was a sign that he was still alive.

   Owayne soon reached a place where the trees were growing so closely together he could hardly squeeze in between them, even though he walked sideways. At last, he managed; mostly unscathed thanks to his chain mail.

   He looked ahead, thinking he would find more close growing trees, but there nothing but empty, burnt ground. Owayne looked further ahead and found that he stood in a huge clearing with a white gnarled elder standing in the dead centre.

   Owayne swallowed hard. His mouth had gone very dry. He refused to let fear overwhelm him, but did he really have choice?

   Cracking and scraping noises behind him and a loud gasp told Owayne that George and Alfred had also reached the clearing. He did not look at them, his eyes fixed on the white elder, the accursed tree one was not to pass.

   Owayne stepped forward. His footstep made no sound, somehow muffled by the earthy ground. He took another step. 'Wyvernblaed, what are you doing?' hissed George fearfully. Owayne ignored him. He took another step.

   Suddenly, a loud growl, like the snarling of a large, vicious animal, rang through the trees. Owayne froze. The rumble had been so loud it had shook the very ground he stood on.
Owayne turned around to face his comrades. Their eyes were wide and fearful, but none of them spoke.

   The unknown beast growled again. This time, the snarl escalated into a quiet, cunning roar – that of an animal knowing its prey would perish soon. Owayne did not dare move. Alfred, however, raised his arm and pointed somewhere over his shoulder.
After a third, much closer growl, and seeing the look of utter horror upon the other two's faces, Owayne turned around.

   There, feet away from him, just behind the white elder, was a misty black shadow with gleaming red eyes.

   The forest muffled Owayne's scream.

                                                                    ◊†◊

   The morning rose quietly, peacefully. Catherine Granger stretched lavishly and noticed her husband had already left the bed. Getting dressed, she went downstairs to find him, but William Granger was not there either. After a full house search, Catherine had to concede that her husband was not in the inn at all.

   She went outside. A neighbour who stood on her doorstep smiled and waved. Catherine waved back. She was about to ask whether the neighbour had seen her husband when she was interrupted by that person: 'Have the brave knights come back yet?'

   Catherine's eyes widened with horror. She had completely forgotten about the handsome men who had left for the forest on the previous evening! Her heart began to constrict with fear – she hoped they were all right!

   'Catherine!' came a commanding yell from the far end of the street. 'Come here and help me, woman!'

   Catherine turned and looked at the man standing a few yards up the street. It was her husband. There was a large shape at his feet – it looked like a bundle of dirty laundry.

   Sighing heavily with relief, she went to meet her husband. He had probably found the knights, she told herself. They were all fine and she had been worried for nothing. But, when Catherine stood not six feet away from her spouse, she noticed that it was not laundry lying at his feet.

   At the sight of Owayne's bloody and mangled body, Catherine Granger couldn't help but scream. The knight looked like he had viciously been attacked by an excessively powerful animal. There were claw marks all over his clothes: even his chain mail was torn by what seemed to be the work of enormous claws and teeth. One of the knight's hands had been torn off, the bone of the wrist poking through the bloody tissue. But Catherine was horrified by the huge chunk of flesh missing from Owayne Wyvernblaed's abdomen: greyish-brown innards were pouring out and two ivory ribs were clearly visible through the congealed blood.

   Revolted by the sight, Catherine still had to force herself to look away from the atrocious body – her eyes curiously drawn to the man who had been so handsome, barely a day before. 'Is he –?' she asked her husband.

   'He was breathing and chocking blood when Kay and I found him this morning – he was but ten feet into the forest. To think he would almost have made it out,' William Granger said sadly. 'His companions, on the other hand, have disappeared completely. We searched as far as the White Clearing and could find nothing but scattered weapons and trails of blood. I think this one might have fought more valiantly than the others, otherwise he would never have been able to escape whatever attacked him and reach the forest edge.'

   Catherine did not answer. She simply burst into tears, covering her round face with her hands. Her husband patted her on the shoulder soothingly.

   Villagers of Elderthorpe were now gathering around. Many screamed or gasped at the sight of Sir Owayne Wyvernblaed's body. Children were beckoned away by their mothers and, those who managed to glimpse the corpse, burst out in tears at the sight of the ghastly carcass.

   The village priest suddenly rushed forth, horror and revulsion written all over his face as his eyes found the body. Still, he muttered a prayer for the brave man who had fought and deceased in the forest. He then asked the gathered men to carry the body to the chapel: he would say a special mass for the fallen knight and, perhaps, they could even send his remains back to his family – if he had any.

   The villagers duly obeyed the priest. Carefully picking up the corpse, they placed it on a stretcher brought by the apothecary's wife. Then, in a grim procession, the people of Elderthorpe carried Owayne Wyvernblaed towards the chapel. The women were sobbing, the men looked grave, and all followed the slaughtered body, which was carried by William Granger and Kay, the blacksmith.

   When the procession reached the chapel, the men set down Wyvernblaed's body by the altar and stood back. The priest walked forward and looked down on the brave son of God who had given his life in the hopes of liberating Elderthorpe of the curse of the Blue Forest. In the colourful light cast upon his face by the stained glass window, Owayne Wyvernblaed's features no longer looked distorted by pain and fear, but fair and handsome as if he was merely sleeping.

   The priest then turned to his parish, looking at the people of Elderthorpe and wanting to address them about this man's death. But words failed him. He did not even know the man's name. The tear strewn faces of his flock for this stranger truly unsettled the priest, who had great difficulty to suppress his own sobs.

   Taking a few calming breaths and attempting to clear his mind, the priest was determined to say a word for the tragically departed fellow. But a high-pitched voice interrupted him.

   'Look! A paper!' a small child who had freed himself from his mother and snuck into the chapel cried out. Indeed, upon Owayne Wyvernblaed's chest, where the monstrous claws had slashed his chain mail, the corner of a squarely folded parchment poked out.
The priest took a closer look, curious despite himself, and gently removed the paper from Owayne Wyvernblaed's chest. He carefully unfolded the parchment, which was sticky with crimson blood, and found a letter. It read:

   Ulric, my dearest son,
   Anne, my beautiful daughter,
   You have no idea how your absence torments me. I think of you every day when I wake and every night when I go to sleep – as I always do when I am far from you.
   You will be happy to know, Anne (and you too, Ulric, I am sure), that I am safe and that the route to Elderthorpe was uneventful. It took the most part of thirteen days to reach this remote village, but we rested every night along the road in villages, so, my dear Anne, you will be pleased to know that I am well nourished and well rested.
   The Blue Forest, as the villagers call it, is what I came to Elderthorpe to investigate. I took a look at it, earlier this morning, and it seemed perfectly benign.  However, the villagers tell me it is a cursed place, where a young girl once vanished in a very strange fashion. I am happy that you are not here with me, my son, for I fear that, whatever plagues the villagers and dwells inside the forest might only be after children such as yourself. I am confident we will be able to go on many ventures together someday, fighting side-by-side, but this is not yet the time for it. I hope you heeded my word and care for your sister like she was your own treasured body. I also hope that you are providing good service to Sir Tristan – if you suspect any of his rivals of being a threat to him, you must warn him at once! We would not want our good friend to perish because of the negligence of his young squire, would we now? You have an important duty, my son, and I pray that you never forget it.
   Do you remember, my Ulric, when I told you the castle was a foul place for you and your sister to live? It was the night before our parting. As I look around this place they call Elderthorpe, I think I should have liked to raise you here, had your mother, may she rest in peace, not left us so soon. Ulric and Anne, you would adore living here. This place is beautiful: the homes are small, but inviting; the people are kind; the children play all day and live blissfully... It is the most peaceful hamlet I have ever come across in my travels – I wish you could see it! If I retire, I think I should like to settle down here.
   I have little to say, alas! I am only leaving for the forest later today. Fear not, my children, I will be in the company of five men of your acquaintance: Sir George, Sir Benedict, Sir Alfred, Sir Cedric and Sir John, his majesty's finest men, are all with me and ready to fight if ever we should come across danger. But you need not worry your pretty young heads about me: we will emerge victorious from the Blue Forest.
Anne, before I forget, my dear, please take good care of your brother as, I am sure, he takes good care of you. He can be a bit stubborn sometimes and I know he is difficult to manage with, but he needs your gentle female care. Please, make sure he does not go too much astray during my absence.
   I embrace you both, my dearest children, and hope you are both well. I hope this letter will reach you before I do; I do not know how quickly the messengers of the north can travel.
   Please remember to bring fresh flowers to your dear mother's grave. Pray for her and give her my regards. She watches upon us all from the heavens – she is my guardian angel, so you need not worry about me as well.
   I love you both, my thoughts are with you.
   Your most affectionate and loving father,
                                                                 Owayne Lyall Wyvernblaed