Chapter 16: Underground Forest

Whatever her fears, nothing untoward happens as we follow the elf into the tunnel, the darkness only ordinary shadows, the way narrow but not overly so and of the same hewn out stone as the rest of the place seems to be. I'm almost disappointed when nothing leaps at us, my tension having nowhere to go except to create a knotted pulsing at the back of my skull, a headache born of lack of action when my entire being believes it's necessary.

Vosh has to duck to enter, but he can move easily from side to side, taking up the last position while I step forward past Graldor and Blossom, past Damaris and to Fleur who seems withdrawn, anxious, both hands now clutched together before her, raised and pressed to her throat like she's choking on something she can't seem to comprehend or shake loose.

She pauses at the end of the tunnel, turning to face me, her glistening eyes huge in the low light. "So much pain," she whispers. "Agony and heartbreak. Death and despair unending."

I grasp her shoulders in my hands, trying to will calm into her through my touch. "Fleur, what's causing it?"

She shakes her head, looks away, blinking more tears. I follow where her eyes lead with my own gaze and realize, startled, the walls of the tunnel aren't stone entirely, but

appear to have roots growing from them. Not just roots either. As I look up I see trunks of whole trees embedded in the rock, bark the same hue and blending into the rough surface. So easy to mistake them for stone themselves, their darkened trunks at level with the walls in places, though enough of them emerging it's apparent they're not carved but actual trees somehow appearing underground.

Blossom leaves us to touch one of them with tentative fingers, the wizard dwarf reaching out as if to stop her from doing so. It's hushed in this place, like a tomb of some kind, the air heavy and foreboding. And now, as I look around and absorb my surroundings, I know why I feel that way.

An entire forest is embedded in the walls and floor and ceiling of this place and their deaths have left an imprint on the stone. How they came to be here, how a full wood, more than likely once growing under sunlight, became trapped here with the bulk of their being lodged in rock I have no idea. Some foul spell, obviously. I'm not tied to trees the way Fleur obviously is, nor connected as the druid troll. But even I am not immune to the sorrow of such an act. Living beings should never suffer such a fate.

I emerge slowly, unable to stop my forward motion when morbid curiosity wakes, stepping from the head of the tunnel into a large, rounded room, leaving Fleur and the others behind, my boots crunching over the uneven ground. It's a forest floor under my feet, and yet it's not, the stone dominating, but enough twigs, moss and leaves on the surface to tell the tale. I swallow hard past the uneasy feeling of it, though the silence seems to be the worst, the empty quiet and stillness where life should play out. No rustling branches in the wind, no call of woodland creatures. Not even the hum of insects. Nothing. It's enough to break my heart.

Graldor pushes past me. If he's feeling the weight of what's been done here it's smothered by the determination on his bearded face, though I sense he's as unhappy as I am. "I feel power here," he says like that's all that matters.

I don't argue. That's not my purview, magic nothing to me whether I like it or not. I stay out of the way then as Vosh moves past me, step to one side and slowly circle the rounded walls, heading for the far side and the opening there. Another tunnel awaits, more silent, dead trees embedded in stone, more quiet, uncomfortable emptiness. Graldor marches down the tunnel and out of sight and Damaris, with a vague shrug for me as if in

apology, goes after him. I join them, Blossom looking up at Fleur, holding the elf's hand as she leads her onward, Vosh circling the other way before joining us and walking with me at the back of the line.

"How horrid, this place," the troll says, rumbling quiet and for my ears only. "Wretched, whoever destroyed a forest of eld to make this tomb."

"But for what purpose?" I brush at a branch that touches my cheek, refraining from jumping when it does. But it's just a stray twig, not an attack. Tell that to my instincts that scream at me something is horribly, horribly wrong here and I need to turn around right now and run as fast as I can before whatever lives here comes for me.

"I can't say," the troll says. "But whatever the reason, Webb, it's a foul one and meant to bring suffering to those who visit here."

Was that the terrible power hiding behind the soul of the tree? This grim sense of foreboding growing stronger and stronger in my heart? Perhaps the spell is simply the means to crush the courage of anyone foolish enough to enter? I can only wish we could be that lucky. That is, until we emerge from the tunnel and Graldor hesitates. This new chamber has multiple tunnels leading away from it, a hub of some kind, the trees thicker here. Wait, is that whispering I hear? Not the others, no one is speaking. But I can swear I hear voices in the distance.

Don't I?

Graldor shakes visibly like a dog shedding water before crossing to the nearest exit and proceeding again while my mind twists and turns and asks why I'm here. I could turn around and go back, wait for the others to sort out this puzzle. Because I'm acutely in tune with the fact something is wrong beyond the dead trees or the worry Fleur has about what might inhabit this place that requires such protections.

Whatever she fears, whatever horrors we could possibly face, I am now utterly convinced we have been fooling ourselves we have any chance to escape this place alive.

And yet as we proceed nothing happens. Not one thing that threatens or increases our sense of dread. Though it does increase, there's no cause, no outward reason for it. The next chamber also has multiple exits and with a grunt of disgust the dwarf again takes the nearest one. I glance behind me almost constantly, positive someone is looking over my shoulder. And that's the only reason I come to fear something entirely different, beyond

the possibility of attack. Because checking behind me reveals that the view hasn't changed as it should. That the trees I'm passing seem the same as the ones before, though that can't be true, can it? We've passed through three rooms now, three tunnels, all leading in different directions. So how can we possibly be passing the same trees?

I wait until Graldor marches into the next tunnel, focusing on what I'm seeing and fighting the dread within, enough it shakes off some of the oppressive fear and helps me regain attention to detail. So much so I'm positive when we exit the tunnel and enter a new one I'm seeing the same thing all over again.

This time when we emerge into a room, the same six doors available, I speak up. And when I do they all stop to turn and look at me, their expressions a mix of that same dread that plagues me, so at least I'm not the only one. Unimportant in the face of what I now know, though likely a big part of the whole problem. And one they need to understand.

"I don't know how we can be," I say, "but I think we're going in circles."

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