"And I stand by that statement," he said, "but you have to admit we stand a much better chance of getting through the forest unscathed with the protection of all these warriors."
"Who are sworn to a man, and woman, to protect the One, the Pure, purest of the pure," Tarl reminded him. "That means you. Not me or Jujay, or even Mishto."
Orlon blinked. "But you’re my best friend, Jujay’s my servant," he said. "Surely they’ll—"
"The rattle tailed serpent when its warning goes unheeded! The long distance runners line up at the white line! Everyone to me, Ty, the Parson, that we may begin our quest anew."
All eyes turned to the Parson, who stood in a wide-legged stance at the forest’s entrance, staff pointedly sweeping at them back and forth, back and forth… And two sets of those eyes sought each other out. Orlon and Tarl’s eyes met, and what each felt about this part of the quest was clearly communicated between them. The rumors, tales, legends they had heard about the forest unstoppably flashed through their minds. They were locked in a grip of fear!
While the Party started forward, the Midgets gulped, tried to subdue the fear that held them in place. Tarl knew if he did not follow them into the forest he would lose his chance to escape the farm community, to see what was out there beyond Dwarf Road. He did not move…. Orlon knew he had no choice but to follow them, believing it was important he see this quest through. He did not move…. What got them moving came as a surprise to Tarl, a thing to be thankful for to Orlon.
Tarl suddenly found himself surrounded by four people, hurrying him forward, and his resistance to them ended when he heard Mishto say, "You’re with us, Tarl."
Seeing this made Orlon think companionship and camaraderie was not a bad thing—and he suddenly found himself thrust forward by a hand on his back. "Let’s go," Sharna said. He smiled, feeling curiously safe with her nearby presence.
To a man, and women, now, the Party stopped in a rough semi-circle around Ty the Parson.
"The stick branches of the Uber Tree! The serpent’s body in motion! Twisting and turning and dangerous the path will be before us, yet we must traverse it quickly," the Parson said in a flail of arms and legs that ended with his staff pointing back at what lay beyond the forest’s entrance. "The late child hurries home before sundown curfew! Not only must we face dangers, but we must reach the forest’s other side before night falls.
"The catapult is sprung! Let us fly forth to do so." His staff jerked at the entrance.
No one moved.
"We must be off," he stated flatly.
No one moved.
"We have no time to delay," he shook his staff violently at the entrance.
No one moved.
When Ty the Parson’s fourth urging went unheeded, Orlon looked at the Party and was confused at what he saw. The warriors stood statuesque, waiting. His confusion increased tenfold when his eyes landed on the tall, thin warrior in copper chainmail, Expendendale, he remembered his name to be, who looked relieved, his big green eyes drifting to Chitintiare and Telluspett from time to time. The Dorks looked mildly restless. He knew something was up here, but try as he might, he could not reason it out.
"We must begin," Ty the Parson said, jerking his pointing staff frantically.
No one moved.
Into Orlon’s mind came Ty the Parson’s constant harping on the need to hurry, to save time. Though unsure what was happening, scared as he was, he felt somebody needed to do something or they would never get started—and that someone might as well be him. He looked at the path beyond the forest’s entrance, eyed the thorny bushes bordering it…. Eyes closed, he gulped down his fear and accepted his decision to do what he must do.
With a deep breath, he opened his eyes, straightened his posture and raised a foot to take a step, and balanced on one foot, a hand firmly on his shoulder stopping him. He looked into the beautiful face of that hand’s owner, a question on his lips. In answer, Sharna brought a finger to her puckered lips. Then it happened…
"Let’s go," Chitintiare and Telluspett said and ran into the forest.
Orlon watched opened mouth as the Dorks ran down the path until they were lost in the forest’s darkness. He looked at the Party, finding they watched as well. This made no sense to him. Why would they let two ignorant fellows run haphazardly into a dangerous place like Dark Forest? When he caught Tarl’s eye, his best friend shrugged. Finally, he turned to Sharna, ready to question her about this, but she quietly silenced him and pointed, drawing his attention back to the path.
And they waited.
They waited, and while they did, Orlon tried to reason it out. There was no doubt in his mind this was meant to happen. It did made sense to him to send someone into a presumed dangerous place to judge just how dangerous it was. But to think they would use such ignorant people as the Dorks… His eyes shifted to the warrior in copper chainmail, registered the relief in his eyes as he watched the path, and his brow creased.
Before he could think about that curiosity, Chitintiare and Telluspett reappeared. They stopped midway up the path and waited, looking around strangely…. That they were unharmed and appeared to be unthreatened filled him with relief and wonderment. Where was all the evil rumors, tales, legends claimed Dark Forest was full of? His wonderment, however, was overpowered by another sense of relief that the Dork’s wellbeing meant the quest would resume.
Yet no one moved.
Orlon turned his head to question Shana about this, only to receive a finger to the lips response. The crease in his brow deepened, and he looked at the Party—Ty the Parson, standing statuesque as before. His attention darted to the warrior in copper chainmail, who sighed, ran a hand through his unkempt brown hair.
"Oh, all right," Expendendale breathed, eyes to the heavens, and walked into the forest.
Step by begrudging step, he made his way down the path toward the Dorks, his head darting this way and that. Chitintiare and Telluspett watched him approach, dense expressions on their faces. When he reached them he turned around to face the Party, threw his hands wide and cocked his head.
"Satisfied?" he said, though to those outside the forest he only mouthed it.
"The captain studies choppy waters ahead through his spyglass! The way appears clear of danger," Ty the Parson said, limbs spasming. "Our quest must continue."
With that, he hurried into the forest.
"Ha," Grash boomed, with a twist of his handlebar mustache, and followed.
With an arrogant sniff, Marcol followed.
"You smell it, too," Richtichtiare said, holding his nose, hot on the mercenary’s heels. "I think you need a diaper change, pa—" He slipped into the forest.
Thus began a filing of the Party by Orlon and Sharna and into the forest, each looking around curiously upon entering. The last through were Jack, Carlo and Frank, with Mishto Sharpaine and Tarl Bimbo in tow. Tarl looked back at his best friend, winked and said:
"Here we go, buddy."
Orlon gave him a brief smile, was certain he had seen Tarl gulp before entering the forest.
"Let’s go," Sharna said, stepping by him to lead the way in.
He hesitated a moment, then followed her through the slit between tree trunks—and what caused those before him to look around so strangely hit him right in the ears! Roars, howls, growls and snarls of incredible volume assaulted him from…everywhere. But when he looked about he could find nothing of their source. He also noticed the intertwined limbs above allowed no sunlight to get through, yet there was light.