The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 21 - Gathering

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A far green country the likes of which Lhara had never seen unfurled before them, stretching on and on under a low-hanging mantle of mist. Every breath drew heavy and humid into her lungs, so unlike the thin air in the upper reaches of The Teeth. Even to stand on the western side of the mountains felt surreal. All her life, Lhara had known west Goran only by how others spoke of it. Now, leaving the ridgeline behind to pick their way down amongst the western foothills could have been no less strange than entering an alien world altogether.

The plains of east Goran, visible at all times from Trosk, were flat, yellow-brown and nearly featureless for as far as the eye could see. One could lose a ram and still see it escaping halfway to Derbesh, or so the joke went. West Goran was nothing like that. Here, the land never seemed to smooth out entirely after the foothills; it dipped, curved, hollowed and swelled like folds in a cloth. What fascinated Lhara most though were the trees. Nothing taller than a shrub grew on the rocky hillsides around Trosk. Even though they were still too high up to see any great detail, Lhara recognized trees from the descriptions in Tarun's books, growing together in rows and clusters across the landscape like leafy, earth-bound clouds.

"This is your homeland?" Lhara asked Jath, almost incredulous.

Jath had to stop, unable to talk and focus on slip-sliding his way down the steep mountainside at the same time. The rocky bones of The Teeth were covered by soil here, rich and dark and threaded by the roots of hardy wolf willows. As brush became thicker further down, their descent was both hampered and helped; there was more to hold onto in case of a slip, but also more to fight through and get tangled in. Already burrs and twigs were making themselves at home in Lhara's cloak.

"Not quite," said Jath. "I was born further north."

"You're a northerner then?"

"No, you'd know a northerner if you saw them."

"So where are you from then?

Lhara thought she saw Jath's teeth gritting out the corner of her eye. "...Vaelona."

That wasn't a name Lhara was familiar with. "Vaelona? Is that a town?"

"A city, north of Amenthere but south of the Black Forest."

Why did you leave? Lhara wanted to ask. Despite having made it safely to the west, Jath did not seem in much of a mood for sharing stories, so she left it for now. Was it because of the Factionists, the crown, both...or neither? She supposed it was hardly her business or her concern. Crossing The Teeth had put her once again on the same side of the world as Tarun, and that was what mattered.

Lhara's fascination with this new land was stirred even further once they came down to where true grass grew. She couldn't resist stretching out her hands to feel the long, cool blades tickle her palms. Fog blanketed the foothills thickly here, making it difficult to see very far (not that Lhara's eyes could have seen further regardless). Still, she was able to make out the edge of what seemed to be a thick gathering of trees a little ways further down the hillside. These were not five, ten, or even fifty trees though. The closer Lhara and Jath came, the more she felt dwarfed by a looming wall of timber. Trunks thick and tall reached toward the sky, their leaves blotting out what little grey sunlight there was. Beyond their edge Lhara could see nothing but cave-like gloom. A thick, earthly smell reached her, so pungent with growing and rotting plant-life that it seemed almost a taste upon her tongue.

"Is that a forest?" Lhara asked, unable to help herself.

"The Forest of Latharan, yes," replied Jath. He had put up his hood against the damp, and droplets of un-fallen rain gathered on the rim of the cloth. "Falerik must be close by now."