“The very air feels….” Fetter stopped, seemingly at a loss for how to describe it.
“Sad,” Thaddeus finished for him.
“Yes, sad,” Fetter agreed. “Thank you, Thaddeus.”
“It’s making me feel sad,” Astrid said. “I just want to sit down and cry.”
“Don’t do it,” Teofil said. “You make an ugly face when you cry.”
Astrid stopped to punch him in the arm, then followed Dulindir once again as Teofil and Thaddeus laughed, although they did it quietly in deference to the silence.
A short distance later, they came upon the barely visible remains of a trail long reclaimed by the Lost Forest. Dulindir produced a gleaming blade from a scabbard around his waist and cut a path through the overgrowth. They followed, ducking their heads and pushing aside dangling vines and branches. Thaddeus noticed long, pointed thorns along one branch and paid close attention to the placement of his hands as he followed the trail beneath the heavy green canopy of foliage.
They came out into a large clearing and stopped behind Dulindir. A village, or rather what remained of a village, stood before them. The houses had all fallen into ruin, most now just a pile of rubble. Of those that remained standing, Thaddeus could discern the care and craftsmanship that had gone into their construction. Stones stacked tight together formed the walls, and thick, thatched roofs sat atop. Trees had grown around, beside, and within most of the structures, bursting through the roofs and pushing out the walls. Pottery, dishes, and personal belongings lay strewn about, and Thaddeus was struck by the complete silence of the scene before him. No birds called. No animals ran away from them in fright. Even the wind seemed to have died down to a respectful breeze as it played with a stained and torn lace curtain at a dark window.
“Oh my God,” Astrid whispered. “It’s so heartbreaking to see this.”
“Here, my friends, is the village of Bower’s Grotto,” Dulindir said in a somber tone. “Slowly being consumed by the Lost Forest. Few of the inhabitants survived the illness that rushed through its streets, and even fewer have set their eyes upon the ruins you see before you.”
He turned away from the village, and Thaddeus could see from his expression how difficult it had been to bring them here. This had been the place he’d grown up and lived with his family, and now it lay in ruin. He wondered if Dulindir’s parents had succumbed to the disease and were buried in the mass grave Astrid had spoken of. A greasy twist of guilt went through him at the realization none of them had thought to ask for any details about Dulindir’s parents. They’d been focused on getting to the village and the well itself without any consideration for the cost to his emotions.
Dulindir looked at each of them in turn in silence a moment. “Take nothing with you as we walk these streets. And touch only that which you are required to touch. Though the village looks and feels void of life, these ruins have attracted many dark things to take shelter here. We must be cautious.”
Thaddeus tried to take in everything at once as Dulindir picked a path along the main road into Bower’s Grotto, and they all followed. He was overwhelmed, and not just by the sight of so many buildings in ruins around them. The very air itself felt tainted with a sense of loss. A few of the personal items strewn about stuck out to him. A woman’s shawl, made of delicate, handwoven lace, fluttered in the slight breeze where it was snared on the branch of a dark and twisted tree that grew from the center of a house. A child’s wagon made of heavy wood, whatever color it had been painted long peeled away, lay on its side in the road. The collar and leash for what must have been a beloved pet.
“It’s so tragic,” Thaddeus whispered. “So many lost.”
When they reached the other end of the trail through the town’s center, Dulindir stopped, and they gathered behind him. Up ahead, Thaddeus could see a long, low mound of dirt that stretched off into the forest to either side. That had to be the mass grave. Dark green, almost black vines grew out of the mound of dirt, and a cold, icy spot opened up within Thaddeus at the thought of all the lives lost and the bodies buried together. The vines had wrapped themselves around the twisted trunks of trees that grew along the edge of the grave, their bark black as a moonless night and branches weighed down with dark, foul-looking fruit.
“That’s the grave?” Fetter asked, his voice low and surprisingly reverential.
“My parents are buried somewhere inside it,” Dulindir said. “I never got to say goodbye.”
Thaddeus’s stomach tightened around the guilt inside him. How had they come to act like this? He truly hoped the water from the Well of Tears was as magical as legend claimed. They needed something to show for what they were putting Dulindir through.
Astrid put a hand on Dulindir’s shoulder, and Thaddeus noticed a tear trembling on the edge of her eye. He had sensed the friendship between Astrid and Dulindir deepening and was glad to see it, but he wondered what Teofil and Fetter would think of their gnome sister being involved with a forest elf.
Pushing aside those thoughts for the time being, Thaddeus cleared his throat. “I really hate to ask this, but is the well on the other side of the grave?”
“It is.”
“And why did they build the well in such a location?” Teofil asked. “Didn’t they need to go over the grave to get to it?”
Dulindir was quiet a moment. Then he fixed Teofil with a steady look. “Those who travel on their own through the woods like to share tales they’ve heard along the way when they come upon another traveler. I have heard many stories in this manner about what happened to the village where I once lived. Some tend to exaggerate certain details, but after meeting many travelers and hearing different versions of the same story, I believe I have been able to find the kernel of truth within them all.” He took a deep breath.
“The grave started out as two mass graves in the forest outside of the village. But as more and more villagers perished from the illness, they had to extend it closer to the village as the trees deeper in the forest were too close together. The new well was dug outside of the village when the graves had not yet met in the center of the street. By the time those few left alive needed to bury the last of the ill, they had abandoned the well altogether so it did not matter that the grave blocked the main road.” He shrugged. “It was a matter of convenience. They knew they were about to leave Bower’s Grotto for good.” He faced the grave again and straightened his shoulders. “It is the most expeditious route to walk over the grave. We shall be quick and fleet of foot. Do not tarry. For safety’s sake as well as respect to those who lie within the grave. Come. The Well of Tears is not far now.”
Chapter 10
Thaddeus took Teofil’s hand as they followed Dulindir along the overgrown main road of the abandoned village. He stepped around a horse drawn wagon, long ago claimed by dark and twisted vines, and set his gaze on the mass grave they needed to cross in order to get to the Well of Tears. Now, one hundred years later, vines with broad, dark leaves and red spots had taken root in the poisoned soil.
“What was that?” Astrid asked, coming to a sudden stop in front of Thaddeus.
Dulindir frowned. “Did you hear something?”