The Mortal Soulbinder (Severed Gods, #1)

Chapter III: Barikard

Barikard

With the flame beginning to flicker, Barikard went into the forest clutching his single torch, barely illuminating the beaten path before him. The flame was unable to reach the deepest depths of the forest, so it appeared he was only travelling into an infinite pit of darkness - although, to Barikard, he actually was, as this is where she had been laid to rest.

With the lantern thrust out in front of him at arm's length, Barikard followed the path slowly. Occasionally, he stumbled on broken twigs and other things that he did not dare not think about - they crunched under the weight of his black, sheepskin boots as though they were brittle bones - though Barikard's dwindling lantern did nothing to reveal this solemn sight to him, thankfully. So Barikard kept his eyes focused in front of him, sharp as a dagger, with the darkness twisting and turning before him like an angry spirit floating through the dead trees, beckoning him forwards with long, obsidian fingers.

Barikard had lived beside the Assadar forest for all his life and had lost count of how many times he had made this journey. Despite this, somehow the dark forest still managed to frighten him - he always felt uneasy, with the silence drifting around him, following his footsteps with a menacing stare. Every journey he had made through this forest, Barikard was always convinced that there were eyes watching him from every shadow, lingering behind every tree, waiting, very patiently, for a time when they could leap out and strike him. Even now, he could feel the burning eyes in the shadows on his back, watching, waiting, listening...

Perhaps there was truly something out there, watching him. In his youth, he heard whispers of ominous creatures lurking in the forest's black gloom, brooding in the shadows, scurrying deep down within the earth to rise through the roots of decomposing trees. Legend claimed that their purpose was to feed on the innocent souls that wander through the forest during the winter twilight. He had even heard murmurs of Elven outlaws and Strayers making their home amid the tall branches, sleeping in the day and hunting at night, with vengeance heavy in their heart - vengeance for what, Barikard did not want to even think about.

Barikard could believe the whispers. The air around him stank of death and rot, heavy and thick, suffocating the life out of the forest itself. It was a dark and primal place, and Barikard could feel the darkness ambling in this abyss of trees as if something was indeed lingering among it. But there were always those who would claim that this was folly - Grand Minister Willmyr, for one, who was the clergy in the capital city. He would make a loud tsking sound whenever he heard children share the sinister stories. Barikard had shared his view once. But not now. Not since her death...

The dark canopy above had begun to thicken, as Barikard made his way further into the unknown. Usually, the black veil of the night would be thin enough to allow the burning stars to shine through and light Barikard's way. But not tonight. The trees pressed in close around him, containing five acres of sentinels, redwoods, mountain ashes and bull pines, untouched for thousands of years. Tight, knotted roots twisted below him, wrestling with the soil, precarious to the blind wanderer (which Barikard believed himself to be now, despite his lamplight). The clouds had covered the sky like a massive grey shroud as if to conceal the thing that Barikard was approaching - the thing that terrified him so. It grasped at him like an iron fist at the back of his throat. He swallowed, whilst slowly stepping forwards, forwards, forwards...

And there it was. Her grave.

Barikard stood before it, looking up with a solemn, heavy glare. The lambent, orange glow of the lantern rose upwards to meet his glistening tears not yet escaping his eyes. He wiped them away quickly with the back of his sleeve before they could fall. A sadness gripped him then, clasping hard onto his heart, incarcerating him in his lament for what seemed like an eternity.