The Forest of Death
The light from the lantern danced over the rock walls. John had no idea how far underground he was but felt he was going down and down. It was getting colder and he could see his breath. He had no idea where he was traveling, other than Joe's less-than- helpful directions: north, west, south, west. Right now he figured that he was going east. The cave mouth faced east and he hadn't taken many turns or twists as he moved along. So, at some point when it seemed like the right thing to do, he had to take a left turn and start north.
He noticed that the cave had started to change. At first it had been like a long tube, but now it had started to broaden out, and long spikes of stone had started growing from the cave floor. He knew they were called "stalagmites" and that they happened because water that contained minerals dripped from the ceiling and the minerals built up layers over a long time.
But these stalagmites were different. They looked like trees with thick trunks. About ten feet above the floor were what looked like branches (the lantern didn't show much -- and besides, the lantern's light was growing a little dimmer). He could hear the dripping of water, like rain dripping from leaves in a forest after a rainfall. And then suddenly it struck him: The Forest of Death. In the game he had never gotten to the Forest of Death and had always assumed it was a real forest. But it wasn't. It was underground. It was something that looked a forest.
But there was another question nagging at him: Why the Forest of Death? And then he saw why: a skull. A human skull. Then he saw others, some tucked away in the rock walls. Bones hung from branches and peeped out from under rocks, and suddenly it seemed that the whole place was filled with bones, bones on top of bones, like his dinner plate after he finished eating three pieces of chicken. So this is where all the bones of all the people who have ever lived went, sinking through the earth from their graves, down and down, until they came here, rested for a while, then started percolating up to the surface again. He'd heard stories about this, never really believing them. Now he did believe.
And then heard the sound -- again. He'd been hearing it for a while now. Whatever it was tried to match its footsteps with his, but it was never quite exact, though it was pretty good. His heart was racing, and he had never wished so hard to be somewhere other than where he was. But keep calm, he said to himself, there's got to be a way to figure this out. Maybe the thing behind him had some answers.
John stopped and put the lantern down, shucking off his backpack. He picked up the bird cage and rope walked off into the darkness. About five feet away he stopped and waited. Nothing at first, then the scrape-flop, scrape-flop he'd been hearing. Then the eyes. The creatures seemed to be all eyes at first, so big were they. But it had two, not like the gnome, and it walked into the circle of light thrown down by the lantern carefully, its large webbed feet treading lightly, its nose twitching. He poked at the backpack and then hissed out, "Where are you?"
John picked up a rock and threw it over the creature's head. It turned. John crept a little bit closer and threw another rock, and then tossed the rope gently and had it tight before the creature knew what had happened. Moving quickly John bundled the creature into the bird cage and latched the door. "Well," said John, "who do I have?"
The creature thrashed about as if it were on fire. "Cut the rope! Cut the rope! It's burning me!" At first John thought it was a distraction, but he could quickly see that the creature was in pain. Picking up his knife he cut the rope through the bars of the cage and pulled it free. Across the dark skin of the creature were long red welts, just as if John had taken a hot piece of metal to its skin.
The creature, breathing heavily, hissed at John. "Why did you do that?"
"You were following me. This isn't the friendliest place in the world."
"Let me go."
"I'd like to, but how do I know you won't kill me?"
The creature didn't answer. Instead, it said, "What are you doing here?"
"I want to kill the Evil One. Though I'm not quite sure why, except that it has something to do with getting home. It's all very confusing."
"Let me go, and I'll take you there."
"Where?"
"To the Great One's castle."
"Why do you call him the Great One?" John sat down; he was suddenly very tired.
The creature didn't answer.
"I asked you a question. Everyone calls him the Evil One; why do you call him the Great One?"
The creature mumbled, "I meant to say the Evil One. He used to be great; he isn't anymore."
"I think you have a story to tell me. But I'm too tired to hear it right now. I need sleep."
The creature did what John could only call smile, though it looked more like someone twisting Play-Doh into a pretzel. "How will you keep me from getting away while you sleep? Maybe even killing you?"
"Can I rely on your word? Probably not. No, I've got a bunch of rope in here. I'm going to tie this cage up with it. You'll be fine as long as you keep away from the bars of the cage." John did just that, until the bird cage looked like a giant bundle of rope. Inside John could hear the slightly hissing breath of the creature.
John turned off the lantern and kept the knife by his side. Just between the strands of the rope he could see something faintly shining, a white glow, and realized it must be the creature's eyes. "What's your name?" John asked as he fell off to sleep.
"Pisgah," the creature answered.
"Goodnight, Pisgah."
