Unrest in the Woods (Secrets of the Forest Book 1) Read online

  Forest of Secrets

  Book 1

  by

  E.M. Michaels

  copyright November 14, 2016

  all rights reserved.

  Thank you for reading!

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  Table of Contents

  Episode 1: In Dreams

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Episode 2: Unrest in the Woods

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Episode 1:

  In Dreams

  1.

  Six cloaks, black, separating the fog as they moved amongst the trees, entered into the furthest depths of the forest. They were spaced four to five feet between, and the two on the ends were wary of any presence that might accompany them. Though, at a certain distance, their heads trained forward as the rest, certain in their motions that they were not followed. It was neither night nor day where they were, with the fog glowing slightly with a white light, though all about them was darkness. The sparse green in the treetops high above was almost invisible, but the edges of the leaves cut through the dark with their bright hue. Time was imperceptible. They were deep enough now that such a state was possible, deep enough where something like magic infused with the air.

  The largest of the six cloaks, having traveled ahead several yards, halted, causing the rest to collect around him in a small clearing of the forest floor. They stood in silence for a short period, bowing respectfully to revere the thick trunks that wrapped around the space in a circle. The trees were massive, with their bases the width of a tall man’s height, and their vertical stretch outreaching two hundred feet. Their leaves shimmered as they danced in a wind, though their branches were still, almost as if something invisible held them so.

  The largest removed his hood, revealing a head of golden hair, slicked back and wet looking atop his head. He was tan, chiseled, and as he placed his hood around his shoulders, the collar of a dress shirt and the top of a suit coat became visible. He looked to the other five, having now formed a circle, and nodded. They took his cue and removed their hoods in unison. They were a short, stout woman with glasses, a thin man of medium height and a distinctive face characterized by large eyes and sunken cheeks, a beautiful woman with hair the color of flames and a brilliant gold necklace, a shorter, balding man with lips curled in a perpetual, unnerving grin, and lastly a boy, with features similar to the leader, standing directly opposite him in the circle. As the boy removed his hood, he couldn’t contain his excitement and released a small, high pitched laugh. The tallest scowled, and the boy wiped the smile from his face.

  “You are summoned,” said the man in the suit. He nodded towards each with direct and piercing eye contact as he spoke their name aloud in greeting, “Catherine,” the short woman bowed, “Gregory,” the thin man nodded, “Victoria,” the beautiful woman closed her eyes, “Benjamin,” the balding man smiled, “Ethan,” the boy hung his head.

  “Shall we begin, William?” asked Victoria. Her voice was smooth, but tinged with rasp. It was sultry, but ominous. William nodded and the circle joined hands. He closed his eyes, and they did so as well. All but Ethan, who began to feel a chill enter his spine.

  “Ethan,” William’s authoritative voice caused his son to shut his eyes tight. William inhaled the crisp air, tasting of autumn and spring swirled together. He filled his lungs, then released, and a cloud of breath filled the space before him, dissipating into the air. “Spirits, we are here to call upon you. We join hands in praise, collected for worship and service. Will you hear our call?”

  With his eyes held tightly closed, Ethan could feel a swarm of air, a rising wind, but deliberate in its direction. It raced behind him, encircling the six of them, raising the ends of their cloaks as it increased in speed. Having forgotten the scolding eyes of his father, he opened his eyes and peered behind him, raising his chin as it crossed his collarbone. The gust, as it accelerated, shown as a thick, white cloud, at first transparent, then darkening to nearly black. As Ethan continued slowly to twist his upper body, a still cloud rose from the rushing current as a filling ball. It grew as it neared Ethan’s face, then shifted before his eyes into something recognizable. At first the nose, then recessed eyes, a chin, lips. Suddenly, a face fully formed out of the cloud glared into Ethan’s eyes. Its lips parted while Ethan was petrified, frozen still. A low bellow came from it, emanating hot breath onto Ethan’s frightened features. He perspired and droplets of his sweat tumbled into the face’s mouth. It shut immediately, glared intensely into Ethan’s eyes, then launched itself upward. The current was pulled behind it, a ghostly head of fog followed by a stream of formless cloud, shrieking as it rose in the air before them. Their hands broke as they stepped back several paces, all for William, who raised his hands to the entity in a show of submission. While his arms were raised, his head was hung, gritting his teeth as he stared accusingly across the circle at his son. Ethan cowered, but not from his father. Instead, he cowered before the being they had stirred. To the measure of Ethan’s eye, it rose six or seven times his own height. It pulled all the air of the near forest around itself, gently swirling about its body, seemingly keeping it afloat. Until the swirling came to an immediate halt, and all the air was still but for the slight reverberations of Ethan’s shivering body. His face aghast, he stared upwards, into where the blackened recesses of its smoky face indicated its eyes. It turned in recognition, staring back, and Ethan could feel locked with it.

  Then its eyes slumped, its ghostly shoulders slouched, and its deep bellow came again, filling the forest with a depressive tone, and Ethan could feel its exhaustion. He stopped shivering. A grin came across his face.

  “It’s weak, father! You see it? Tired!”

  “Silence!” William replied. He broke the circle, striding determined towards Ethan, taking hold of the boy’s shoulder and tightening a fist around it. Into his son’s ear, he whispered, “There is still a great power within it, even while it is weak. We will not taunt it. Instead, we will show our dominance.”

  William turned away from Ethan, pivoting in place to bring his excited eyes across the faces of his peers. We are finally here, he thought. He pulled aside his cloak, and what light there was diffused in the fog around him shimmered off something metallic. He rose his eyes to the being synchronously with his hand, within which was the wooden handle of a recently forged hatchet. The weapon parted the grey as it came before his eyes. The apparition looked on in horror as William approached the nearest tree, pulling back the hatchet with both hands. He positioned his feet then swung, chipping bark with the sharp edge of the hatchet. A growl filled the clearing, a protest showering down from the being, though it did not move. William withdrew his hatchet and swung again, this time wedging the blade deep within the first layer of the tree. The being screeched, and the other five cloaked members of the Order cupped their pained ears.

  William swung again, twisting his head over his shoulder, showing his disheveled hair and manic expression to his cohorts. “Join me!” he shouted, red surging into his cheeks. The five exchanged glances, then revealed their own hatchets and approached the tree.

  The hatchets entered from all sides, splitting the wood and sending chips to collect in piles at their feet. For the hours they worked, the spirit above them screamed in torment, though remained immobile, trapped in the center of the clearing. The time passed for the six quickly, though the sweat of their brows revealed the strain of their efforts. Against the screeching of
the spirit, William howled at intervals, following which Victoria released her own with a vicious stare cast at William, as it to share her ferocity.

  William took the final swing. The top of the tree, obscured by the darkness, swayed as if to ponder which direction to tumble. At last it did, and Catherine wobbled out of its direction. Gregory only needed to take a long stride left, while the rest were out of harm’s way. The sound of the lumbering tree as it made its descent was a cracking and a groan that bounced between its brothers and sisters as it made its way down, shoving between their tops to land with a deafening thud upon the cold earth. The vibration of its collapse sent a rattle into Victoria’s spine through her feet and she gasped. She gripped William’s arm as her eyes fixed themselves upon what held his stare’s attention. The low weeping sound of the ghostly creature above them distracted Ethan until Victoria’s voice pulled him back to the tree. “The throne,” she said.

  The severed trunk was anything but haphazard. Where Ethan expected to be an uneven surface of fresh wood with rings revealing its age, instead there was an ornately carved seat into the base of the stump. Its back rose as an arch across the top of which were engraved images of knights in various combative poses. The center of these was the image of an old man, bearded, with eyes closed and hands raised above his head. Though the other engravings were the color of the weathered wood they rested within, the old man was painted, a beard of black, a face of red, and hands of gold, with body wrapped in a blue cloak.

  “Take your seat, William,” Victoria spoke to his ear, though loud enough the rest of them overheard. While it seemed Catherine and Gregory were as astonished as Ethan was at the sight of the throne, Benjamin seemed unmoved, as if the night had gone none other than precisely as expected. He stood at a distance, looking on from the shadows. Catherine rubbed the right lens of her glasses with her cloak’s sleeve and repositioned them on her face. Gregory just stared at the throne with mouth agape, eyes following each of the seven steps that rose to its seat, then to the arms which rose a yard above the seat, then to the back which rose another two yards above the arms. William placed himself inside it with reverence, easing his back as he assumed a royal posture. His draped his arms over the tops of the throne’s, straightening his back and glancing up into the distressed face of the apparition. He then looked to Benjamin, who had silently stepped nearer the group, positioning himself beside Ethan. Ethan’s body flinched when he noticed the man out of the corner of his eye. Benjamin paid him no attention.

  “The girl, where is she now?” William asked.

  Benjamin slowly bowed his head, placing his palms over one another and bringing his legs together. Ethan watched as his eyes flooded with red, as though buckets of blood were poured into water until they diffused its color entirely. Ethan tried to hide his astonishment, as it appeared this was not at all shocking to the rest. Though Ethan had seen things, seemingly illogical and uncanny things since he and his father began their mission, tonight was altogether new. He began to recognize the magnitude of the powers at hand, and the greatness of the ones they were after. Benjamin remained in his stance, eyes full of red, for no longer than a minute before blinking and instantly returning his pupils and irises. He returned William’s stare with a scowl as he said, “In dreams, she visits the forest. She doesn’t walk alone.” By the tone of his voice, Ethan could tell it was the second part of his report that brought the scowl upon his face. It caused William to become upset as well, visibly as he dug his nails into the ends of the throne’s arms. Victoria put a hand over his to calm him, but she too wore concern.

  William raised his eyes to Ethan, who knew it was now his turn.

  The spirit screamed as it attempted to cast itself away from the clearing, back between the trees, but a chain of links that formed from its tail now tethered it to the top of the throne.

  2.

  Though her last thoughts were of the library and the books around her, Cybil Weaver found herself amongst trees, great and small, as she tread barefoot over moist soil, unaware of how she arrived. The ends of her dress were dirtied, so she believed she had been walking there longer than a short while. But she was not tired, so it couldn’t have been that long, she thought. Surveying the space did nothing to locate her. Beneath her was a narrow and seldom used path overgrown with grass and weeds. To the sides of it were ferns, filling the forest floor with their radiant green. Amongst them were short trees that rose to just over Cybil’s head, whose branches she had to brush aside to continue. And several yards to each side of the path began the massive trees, of sizes she had never seen with her own eyes. They rose into the sky where their branches and leaves blocked what light might enter, obscuring any visible measure of time. She wasn’t sure the sun was out, the light around her seemed to come from within the forest itself. It was too bright for night, and none of the nocturnal creatures sang their songs. Instead, as Cybil listened closely, she could make out a high pitch tone. It was like a choir, but in a single voice, and gentle, but androgynous. It was beautiful, she thought, as she allowed it to occupy her thoughts, pushing aside concerns of her whereabouts.

  Suddenly, from a hundred or so feet away, she could see a figure, rushing between trees a distance off the path.

  “Hello?” she called.

  “Your name,” it replied. The voice was masculine, deep, but young. Enticing.

  “Cybil,” she shouted. For some uncertain reason, she felt no fear. “What’s yours?”

  She squinted to peer into the distance before her, where she had seen him moving between the trunks. It was still. Then she felt a presence behind her. She did not, however, feel threatened.

  Softly, in a whisper, his voice returned, “I have no name.” His breath was warm on the back of her neck, though her flesh still gave rise to goosebumps.

  As she turned to face him, she asked, “Why did you hide?”

  “To be certain it was you.”

  He was thin, though toned. His drab clothing hung loosely from his frame, made of what looked like burlap, but floated lighter with his movements. Its neckline drooped halfway down his chest, revealing the peculiar shade of his smooth skin. He was white, fawn, but with a blue hue that seemed to radiate the same glow of the woods around them. But what took Cybil’s attention most was the solid color of his irises. They were ocean blue, and they wrapped around his pupils as though a master painter wound his brush around them. If she had felt normally, the sight of them would have terrified Cybil for their unnatural appearance. However, Cybil did not feel normal. She felt high from the fumes of the leaves and soil.

  “And who am I to be certain of being?”

  The boy with no name smiled. “Precisely who you are.”

  Cybil laughed. “You speak in riddles.” She unconsciously leaned in. “You really have no name?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I did once. It was spoken in the breeze. The wind would remind me.” His face turned from her, contorting into a frown and a distant gaze. “It no longer does.”

  Cybil placed her palm against his cheek, cool, and lifted his gaze. “Why doesn’t it?” Asking as though she knew why it had in the first place.

  His entrancing blue eyes glossed over as he replied, “The forest has dimmed.”

  While she saw the sadness in him, she couldn’t stop from laughing. She held her hand over her mouth, but it poured between her fingers. It was all so serious, and yet she had no idea what they were talking about. She had no clue where she even was. And yet the boy with no name continued staring with a serious face.

  Cybil stopped. She removed her hand from her face, wearing a rosy red in her cheeks as she blushed in front of him. “I’ll call you Riddle,” she said. While she felt the weight of his words through his eyes, she still felt playful and didn’t question her impulse to place her palm against the side of his face again and keep it there. Riddle didn’t retract.

  “Riddle,” he repeated. “I like that.” A smile finally broke across his face. He placed his hand
over Cybil’s and the two felt a warmth radiate until the smile was wiped from his face by a disruptive thought. “Cybil, we need you.” He removed her hand, but held it in his own, taking hold of the other and wrapping his cupped hands around hers between their waists.

  “For what?” she asked. Her mind backtracked, then chose a different question, “Who’s we?”

  “There are so few of us now, I scarcely see another.” Seeing she was not only completely lost, but beginning to sober from the enchantment of the forest around her, he clarified, “Cybil, we are the creatures of the forest.”

  “What, like, squirrels and deer and such?” she questioned irreverently, then dropped her head.

  Riddle removed a hand from hers and gently lifted her chin with his forefinger to speak directly, “The forest is so much more than you know. It is first trees and dirt and simple, until you know the way. If you discover its first secret, you’ll find your way deeper than you ever knew existed.”

  Forgetting her embarrassment, Cybil spoke with eagerness, “What is the first secret?”

  The smile that created a warm feeling in her stomach came again across his face as he answered with a whisper, “The forest is magic.”

  The omnipresent chorus-like sound rose in her ear as the glow around her became strengthened and wrapped itself about her. She felt angelic. She felt perfect. But his prior words returned to the forefront of her mind to interrupt the moment. “Why do you need me?”

  “We are in danger.”

  “Danger? Danger from what?”

  But Riddle did not answer. Instead, as the forest glow dimmed and removed the distant trees from her periphery, he drifted away. The tone fell from her ears and darkness swelled between the growing distance between the two of them. She opened her mouth to call after him, but her body was exhausted and her lungs could not pull the air in to expel his name. The name she had given him. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Riddle.