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  PROLOGUE

  “You have all heard of the time when the dead didn’t tread upon the land?”

  The sea of youthful faces shone with the golden light of the hearth. The children nodded, expressions flooded with concern or fear. Even so, they were spellbound, as they were every night at this time, when they huddled on the floor surrounded by adults who gathered in chairs or leaned against the walls.

  I turned to gaze out the window. The children’s curiosity prompted them to follow my lead. By the silvery light of the moon, we could see the wanderers ambling in the dark. Their cloudy gazes appeared distant as they searched. Their pale flesh was frigid blue in the moonlight, cold as the late autumn night. The front door rattled, and everyone jumped. It failed to open, and the wanderer moved on, passing by the window without a glance.

  Beside me, young Corin gripped his older brother’s hand. “I don’t like to think about it,” he said.

  I mussed the boy’s hair and replied, “We cannot ignore the truth just because we don’t like it. It’s important to understand how the world became the way it is so that we can learn and grow. Survival is never guaranteed. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

  Corin glanced up at his brother, then back to me with a nod.

  I leaned back in my chair and recalled the words of my mother, the same words spoken by her father and his before him. “The living once walked this world alone. They worked the land, growing sustenance for themselves and their children. They built homes and palaces. They sailed the seas, explored distant lands, and shared their dreams in artwork and mesmerizing enactments. Wizards and witches, mages and sorcerers, and all sorts of other magi performed feats great and small with their wondrous magic. For seculars like ourselves, life was made easier.

  “Back then, when a person’s time was finished, his or her soul passed into the next realm, and the body was laid to rest—to rot—beneath the ground.” I met their pensive stares and leaned forward. “That was before the dead rose, before the Grave War—before the King of the Dead stole the power of a god.”

  A few of the younger children gasped, while the older ones, having already heard the story, grinned with excitement. Waving my hand over their heads, I said, “Look around the room, and listen well, for one day, you may be the one to tell the story. For countless ages, men have been ruled by prophecy, but what happens when the path of good and right, the triumph of light over darkness, the only path to salvation … fails?

  “It begins in a forest…”

  CHAPTER 1

  “Why?” Mathias said as he stared down at the back of his best friend’s head.

  Aaslo patted the rich soil around the base of the sapling, then stood. “Why what?”

  Wind surged through the trees, rustling their green and gold leaves and nearly whipping the dirty rag from Mathias’s fingers as he held it out for Aaslo. “Why won’t you go with Elanee to the dance? She wants to go with you.”

  Aaslo took the proffered rag and dragged it across his soiled hands, but Mathias wondered if they weren’t becoming dirtier for the effort. Aaslo probably didn’t notice, and if he did, he likely didn’t care. The forester seemed the most content when he was covered in dirt and leaves. Aaslo didn’t immediately answer the question, either. He never did. Mathias waited, knowing that Aaslo would mull over every conceivable reply before settling on one. While others might consider it irritating, Mathias found comfort in knowing that whatever Aaslo finally said had been well considered. He had long since lost any frustration with his friend’s oddities. The foresters had their own strange way of looking at things.

  Aaslo’s mouth twisted in consternation before he met Mathias’s gaze. His eyes were the dark, rich green of an ancient forest hiding epic mysteries. His fingers scratched his scruffy jawline, leaving a smear of dirt in their wake. Finally, Aaslo grumbled, “You know I’m going with Reyla.”

  “You asked her?” Mathias said, already knowing the answer.

  Aaslo’s lips turned down a well-worn path to a frown. “Why would I need to ask her? We always go together.”

  Mathias shrugged and tossed a golden lock from his eyes. “I’m just saying, if you don’t ask her, how do you know she plans to go with you? Just because you went together to the last dance—”

  “And the one before—and each of the six before that,” said Aaslo.

  “Right,” Mathias replied, “but it doesn’t mean she’s planning to go with you to this one.”

  Aaslo huffed as he scraped the mud from his boot on one of the many stumps that dotted the dense forest that had been recently visited by the loggers. “That’s ridiculous. She knows I’m making progress on the house. Pa and I set the beams yesterday. It’ll be ready to move into in a few months, and Reyla and I’ll be married. There’s no reason for her to go to the dance with anyone else.”

  Mathias’s gaze was drawn to the tops of the tall pines where they bent under the force of the wind. He looked back to Aaslo and said, “True, but I still think you should ask her. Women like that kind of thing, you know.”

  Aaslo checked his tools, then slung the bag containing all his forestry supplies over his shoulder. Glad he wasn’t carrying the bulky monstrosity that looked to weigh as much as his friend, Mathias picked up his much smaller pack, containing their water and lunch, and followed Aaslo through the trees. He never worried about getting lost. He was quite certain Aaslo could navigate the forest blindfolded in a blizzard.

  After walking in silence for several minutes, Aaslo said, “Who are you going to ask?”

  Mathias grinned to himself as he pictured how Neasey would react when he asked her—or maybe Arielle. Then he remembered a promise he had made at the previous dance.

  “I guess I’ll have to take Jessi. She was pretty upset when I went with Laney to the last one. She said I should have taken her first since J comes before L.”

  Aaslo glanced over his shoulder. “You’re taking them in alphabetical order?”

  Mathias’s laughter was swallowed by the crackling of limbs and leaves as another gust tore through the timbers. “No, that hadn’t been my plan, but I guess it’s as good as any.” He groaned when Aaslo stopped and pointed to a clump of mushrooms growing from the side of a tree.

  “That one,” said the forester.

  “I don’t see why I have to know that, Aaslo. I’m not a forester.”

  Aaslo rounded on him, his jaw tightening as the wind touseled his shaggy brown hair. He crossed his meaty arms and stared at Mathias. Although Aaslo was a few inches shorter than he, the forester was strong—a condition bred by a lifetime of lugging equipment and planting and maintaining the trees of the Efestrian Forest. Still, Mathi
as knew he could take Aaslo down if needed, since he won every two out of three sparring matches. He waited for Aaslo to say something, and eventually he did.

  “If I have to learn the letters and numbers, and histories and sciences—”

  Mathias threw up his hands. “Come on, Aaslo, that’s different.”

  “—and maps and cultures, and languages and fighting—”

  “Aas—”

  “—then you can learn the forest.”

  With a heavy sigh, Mathias said, “All right, I get that, but I have no use for mushrooms. I don’t even like the taste. What you’re learning with Grams is useful.”

  Aaslo grunted. “How is knowing that Akyelek is the official language in Mouvilan useful? It’s on the other side of the world. I’ll never go there, and I’ll probably never meet a Mouvilanian, either.”

  Mathias hopped onto one of the many fresh stumps and spread his arms. “The world is huge and full of mysteries! Where’s your sense of adventure, Aaslo?”

  Aaslo’s gaze bore into him as if he were staring down an enemy. “Words shouldn’t be wasted on telling you things you already know.”

  With a chuckle, Mathias said, “That sounds like something your father would say.”

  Aaslo nodded. “It is.”

  Mathias crossed his arms. “It’s not like you get a limited number of words to use in your lifetime. You’re not going to run out.”

  “That’s what I always say,” Aaslo said with a smile. It was more of a smirk, but it was the closest to a smile that Mathias had ever seen. Aaslo’s expression soured again, and he said, “Still, it applies. You know I have no desire to leave this forest or Goldenwood—ever. There’s nothing but trouble out there, and everything important can be found right here.”

  Mathias raised his brow. “Important like the mushroom?”

  “Yes,” Aaslo said with a curt nod, “because the mushroom is right here in front of us, and if not for your grandmother, we wouldn’t even know Mouvilan existed.”

  As usual, Mathias was both humbled and amused by Aaslo’s artless mind-set. His gaze dropped to the bright orange mushroom, and he sighed. “Laetiporus?”

  Aaslo nodded once. “Good enough. Couldn’t have been any easier.”

  Mathias grinned as Aaslo turned back to the path that only he and other foresters could see. He was glad the foresters kept the underbrush to a minimum; otherwise the hike would have been much more strenuous and Aaslo would have had a plethora of foliage over which to quiz him. Although his friend would never admit it, Mathias knew that Aaslo enjoyed teaching him about the forest. A bud of mischief began to unravel inside him, and Mathias said, “You can lose the pride, Aaslo. You know I’ll be ripping it and your hide in the practice yard this afternoon.”

  Aaslo didn’t turn as he answered. “Probably, but I’ll be sure to make you a bit prettier for Jessi. A black eye and split lip should go well with whatever absurd poetry you spout.”

  “Did I say Jessi? Maybe I meant Reyla.”

  Aaslo’s machete sliced the air, lopping the top off a toadstool. “You even joke about that, and I’ll remove your head.”

  Satisfaction bloomed as he successfully penetrated the forester’s thick skin, and Mathias said, “You can try, but I got Cromley to teach me a new form. I was going to make it a surprise, but it’s more fun to watch you sweat.”

  Aaslo whacked a tangle of vines in their path and groused, “If that old captain is going to give anyone an advantage, it should be me. I come away more bruised than you even when I win.”

  “You do,” Mathias conceded, “but that’s not the point.”

  “And what is the point?” Aaslo said with a glance.

  Mathias grinned broadly. “To beat you, of course.”

  Aaslo shook his head, then continued with his survey of the third sector, planting, transplanting, fertilizing, trimming, and treating trees and other plants important to the forest ecosystem for their ailments. Mathias didn’t care for the work, but going to the forest was the most adventure his grams had ever allowed and only in the company of Aaslo or Ielo. He had never even been to Mierwyl, where the villagers of Goldenwood traded for most of their food. It would have been only a three-day ride if he’d had a horse, which he didn’t. Grams had a horse, but she would have rained fire and devastation down on his head if he had taken it without asking, not that she would approve if he did. Thus, he was stuck tromping through damp leaves as more showered his hair and clothes with each gust. Aaslo had finished his inspection of the youngest saplings by the time the sun began its descent. The hike back to the village was more direct but steeper. To Aaslo’s amusement, Mathias had managed to don almost as much dirt as the forester.

  After an unplanned slide halfway down a slope of loose soil and scree, Mathias picked himself up on shaky legs and said, “I don’t know why I came with you.” He swept damp dirt and leaves from his rear while Aaslo waited patiently at the base with crossed arms.

  “You secretly like being in the forest,” Aaslo replied.

  Mathias scowled down at him. “No, I like being out of the house. It’s not the same thing. You know I don’t get out much when Grams is home—except for practice and work, anyway.”

  Aaslo frowned. “This is work.”

  Mathias was grateful when he successfully made it to level ground without another messy incident. “This is your work,” he said. “That’s different. Besides, I’d only be stuck with my nose in those musty old books at home. Don’t get me wrong. I like to learn. It’s just that it seems like she wants me to learn all of the knowledge of the world, and for what? She won’t even take me with her on her travels. I could be helping the merchant master take the goods to Mierwyl, or I could be going with you over the mountain, but no. Stay home, Mathias. When am I going to see the world? Never.”

  “Well,” Aaslo said, pausing to rub his scruffy chin, “everyone says you’ll be town mayor someday. I guess the mayor needs to be pretty smart, and you’ll get the chance to travel to regional meetings.”

  They turned down the path toward Mathias’s home, which lay on the outskirts of the village that was nestled a hundred yards ahead in an open expanse where once resided a small meadow. A rocky perimeter surrounding the entire town had been cleared of trees and undergrowth to prevent Goldenwood from burning down in the event of a forest fire. Mathias mulled over Aaslo’s observation as they tromped through talus that had been painstakingly spread over the area to deter new growth.

  Eventually, he said, “I don’t know, Aaslo. Mayor Toca doesn’t seem to be the most learned man. He didn’t even know who Parshia was.”

  “Nobody knows who Parshia was,” Aaslo said, “except you and me and Grams.”

  “The people of Lodenon know.”

  “And nobody around here knows Lodenon exists, therefore Parshia didn’t exist. Mayor Toca doesn’t need to know anything about Parshia.”

  “Exactly, so why do I need to know about her?”

  Neither spoke for a few minutes as the crunch of gravel underfoot took them farther from the rustling of the forest and closer to the clangs and shouts of the town. When they were within a few yards of the first building, Aaslo said, “I see your point.”

  Mathias glanced at his friend, who was still frowning in contemplation. “About what you said this morning—you know you don’t have to take the lessons with me.”

  Aaslo’s head jerked up, and he spun, forcing Mathias to draw up short. The forester looked at him as if he had just lost his mind. “Of course I do,” Aaslo snapped. His face had darkened, and his eyes sparked with anger. Mathias immediately regretted bringing it up when his friend said, “It’s like you always say—brothers in all things.” Aaslo nodded toward the mountain. “It’s why you come to the forest with me when you don’t have to. Now stop saying stupid things.” Without waiting for a response, Aaslo turned toward town.

  Goldenwood was busy in the afternoon, but the incessant wind prevented many from straying beyond their porches. There, in tha
t man-made hole in the forest, the unfettered breeze tossed hats from heads, snagged curls from coifs, and tore linens from lines. Still, the townsfolk smiled and hollered greetings as Mathias and Aaslo trod through the village center. Most of the paths were made of dirt, hard-packed by years of foot traffic, with wagon ruts carved down the centers of the wider lanes. In the more prominent areas, wooden boardwalks prevented the tragic loss of footwear during the wet months, and these were kept in good repair by the town’s loggers and carpenters, which was most everyone. The wooden buildings faced the village center, and most were painted in bright colors, in stark contrast to the dark forest that surrounded them.

  Mathias glanced back at his friend, who now trailed behind him. As usual, the moment they’d set foot in town, Aaslo had allowed Mathias to take the lead. The forester’s shoulders slumped forward, his chin brushed his chest, and he barely raised his eyes to meet the appreciative stares of the onlookers. Aaslo was one of the few foresters who ventured into town more than a few times per year, but most of the townsfolk knew by now not to pester him. Mathias turned his gaze back to the path in front of him and abruptly stopped.

  “Hello, Mathias!” called Mr. Greenly as he stepped from his office to greet them. The man pushed his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose, leaving a smudge of ink on the tip. “You boys been out in the woods today? Seems a mite gusty for outdoor work, if you ask me.”

  In a barely audible grumble, Aaslo said, “I’m surprised he knows the outdoors exists.”

  Mathias knew that the aged Mr. Greenly couldn’t have heard, but he gave his friend a reproachful scowl anyway. Aaslo only shrugged and went back to tracing the planks with the toe of his boot.

  Mathias turned and smiled at the elderly bookkeeper. “Hello, Mr. Greenly. The breeze wasn’t so terrible in the forest. I’d say we had the better luck.”

  “Wasn’t luck,” Aaslo mumbled. “Trees are good for more than chopping to pieces.”