BOOK ONE: SCHERDAL
Chapter 2: Faerewode
My soul feels alive again. I do not understand it,
but I do not need to understand the Will of the Wisp.
Only to follow and remain.
– Rasicare Watrepaue (excerpt from an unconfirmed journal, recovered in the aftermath of the Hroth War and donated by Louie Lynx to the Order of the Ausbury)
***
It seemed as though the entire town had emptied from the West Gate into the forest. Four-hundred animals huddled in bated breath and strained consternation; bulls, bucks, boars, and billies crammed and carrouseled with does, sows, hens and mares of all kinds, sizes, shapes, and colors under the dark, gloomy glaze of a veiled new moon, on the western outskirts of Scherdal, beneath the tendrils of the high and lofty Faerewode Forest, arriving in a desperate riddled hope to see and be seen; to worship and witness.
Rasicare was there among them, spurred on by curiosity more than anything, and assumed half of the animals present were like-minded. He couldn’t shake the questions that arose in him since hearing the chipmunk’s story that afternoon. And the idea of sitting at home with only his thoughts to torment him wasn’t to be tolerated. So, swallowing whatever bit of pride he had, he ventured into Faerewode. Even if it were only a hoax, a gag, or trick—he had to know for certain; ever since that night in his father’s den, the burning light had vexed him. He never would have imagined that the chipmunk’s story would have enticed four-hundred Scherdalians to the haunted Faerewode. He glimpsed Mutton and Domino on the far side of a family of mice, smothered between coats and manes. “Duck scat,” Rasicare thought to himself and smirked.
“Hello, my friend.”
The fox whipped his neck round. The wise, towering profile of an old badger stood beside him; his kind eyes and delicate smile warmed the fox’s heart.
“Cornelius!” the fox greeted his mentor, and the two embraced, crammed awkwardly among the thronging animals. “So it’s true—you are here, too. Is the entire Order with you?”
Cornelius cleared his throat and tilted his head across the forest. About fifty-paws away, a pair of groundhogs were placing a kind of podium and stage on the uneven ground behind a budding bonfire. They worked under the pointed, deliberate stare of a coyote, and were having the hardest time finding a flat enough space that didn’t leave half the stage wobbling and bending under any sort of weight. One of them appeared to have shoved a rock or branch under a foot to stabilize it, and they felt well enough to leave it as is. The coyote turned away, without any bit of gratitude to the groundhogs, grinning and welcoming a very handsome, cunning wolf to the stage. The two conversed quietly back and forth for a lengthy time and Rasicare recognized the wolf as Douglas, the Archbishop of the Order of the Ausbury. He looked as though he were about to give a speech to the animals gathered. Why was Douglas here as if to lead a ceremony? It was odd enough to see his stoic friend Cornelius wrapped up in the hubbub, but even more peculiar that a stage and podium would be purportedly prepared around something altogether spontaneous and unrehearsed. It really must be greater than a mere rumor traveling through the marketplace. Could the Wisp really be here tonight?
“In all the Sacred Scrolls, the Wisp has never appeared in Faerewode.” Rasicare thought aloud, and he caught Cornelius’ stubborn, uncomfortable glance just in time.
“What is it, Rasicare?” Cornelius asked, after relaxing his face back into the soft composure of a mentor.
Rasicare presumed Cornelius’ waywardness had everything to do with the bustling crowd. He knew likewise that many of these animals would have less-than-holy motivations for gathering. And Cornelius never enjoyed a thronging mob, much less the obsessions of the majority. It was uncomfortable and, as he described it, “a dangerous practice capable of forming anything out of nothing.”
“My Paw taught me a lot about the history of the Ausbury and the Will of the Wisp,” Rasicare explained, with his eyes fixated on the field mice struggling to keep the fire awake in front of Douglas’ stage. “Wherever the Wisp went, it led to the Ausbury. And wherever the Ausbury was, prosperity flourished.”
“What are you hunting for?” Cornelius murmured.
“Why would the Wisp come here?”
Cornelius recited a proverb robotically, “Who are we to determine where the Will o’ the Wisp goeth or appeareth?”
“True.” Rasicare’s head nodded, then winced and tilted in slight dismay. “But isn’t Faerewode said to hide the darkness? The Will of the Wisp is to bring light and lead to Its Ausbury. Nothing in all the Sacred Scrolls shows a connection between the Ausbury and Faerewode. I don’t see why something so holy would appear here—”
Cornelius turned toward him sternly. “Are you to teach a member of the Order of the Ausbury?”
“No!” Rasicare looked at him, shocked. “But to learn. Why are you here? And why is this happening? Is it possible all the scrolls are wrong?”
“Is this because of the Wisp, or because of your Paw?”
“Neither,” Rasicare replied, irritated and ashamedly obstinate at his teacher. “And you should know better than to speak lightly of that.”
“I never said it was ‘light’.”
Rasicare sighed, irritated. Calming down, he dropped his shoulders and explained, “Paw believed the Ausbury was hidden in the Denemoor.”
“That’s a dangerous place.”
“He gave his life searching so Scherdal could be whole again.”
“I never said it was ‘light’,” the badger repeated in quiet resolve, placing his paw on Rasicare’s shoulder.
“I have no idea what sent him there,” Rasicare continued, as if in a trance. “But he was so sure of it—how could I stop him?”
Cornelius took his paw from Rasicare’s shoulder. “Your Paw died believing in something, and believing it could help others. That is a noble death. May we learn to follow his example, yet learn from his mistake as well.”
Rasicare squinted his eyes and pursed his lips. His gaze trailed off, and he tried to compose himself, watching the ash rise above the treetops.
“And where is Kori on an evening like this?” The badger asked, good-naturedly.
“Watching her brother’s skulk.” The fox smiled, thinking of cheerful things again. “Her brother and doe-in-law have gone searching for their missing dibbun again. I intend to marry her, Cornelius.”
The badger placed his strong claw on the fox’s shoulder and smiled. “She will make a fine vixen. And you, a fine tod.”
The fox smiled briefly before fading into an uncomfortable grimace. “The Wisp knows that I don’t deserve her. We love each other, though. I know I’m not meant to be with any other, but her Paw is not too fond of me. ”
“No one likes seeing their pup leave the den, Rasicare,” the badger replied. “Her pack is no different. It will be well.”
“I need to get off the Scherl, Cornelius.”
“We’ve spoken about this, Rasicare. I can’t promise anything.”
“You know I saw the Wisp when I was young,” Rasicare whispered, concealing his voice from any busybodies.
“I know what you have told me,” Cornelius answered.
“And you know it’s my desire to be a part of the Order.”
The badger looked the fox in his heavy eyes.
“I know it is my destiny.”
“Not all are destined for the Order, Rasicare. And not all should be.”
His mentor’s hopeless words depressed him.
Cornelius smiled. “You see that squirrel over there, in that tree? The one higher up, acting as though he isn’t looking this direction.”
“I see him.”
“His name is Torlbey. I’ve mentored him for several seasons. He’s quite the musician and leader. But he just informed me that he won’t be meeting with me any longer. He does not need the help of the Order of the Ausbury, now that the Will of the Wisp has been seen again.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rasicare replied, dumbfounded and disappointed in the squirrel.
“No, it doesn’t. But don’t worry. He will have a hard time getting away from me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The pursuit of a leader is an important trait in those of the Order. We are like Paws more than mentors. And Paws never let their pups get away.”
“I see.”
The mates stopped talking, for the Archbishop Douglas was addressing the crowd of animals from the stage behind the roaring bonfire.
“Animal folk,” Douglas began. “It is an honor to stand with all of you tonight. This night is one I believe we will cherish for many seasons to come. It is not one in which we will recall merely the glory of the Wisp—No, I do not know if It shall appear! But this is a night beyond even that. It is a night to commemorate the faith in our Animal-kin. Look about you! Animals just like you, and yet unique in countless ways. Drawn to this place on a hope. And that hope is a holy thing. What we stand for tonight is the fact that our Animal-kin of Scherdal are still full of trust and belief.”
The wolf cleared his throat. His voice rose like an ascending piano, and as he spoke, the scent of honeysuckle came upon the animals.
“I know, more than most, that these have been difficult seasons. We have weathered storms, fought battles, and struggled deeply. And no battle has been greater than the one betwixt our ears and beneath our chests. The soul has been attacked!”
The wolf paused again, and his deep, black eyes held back tears.
“And tonight, I want you to hear from my own jowls—it is okay to hurt, and okay that you have been in pain. It is okay to cry and okay to howl—”
Rasicare noticed a nearby opossum had been moved to tears, and a dog howled in the distance.
“—It is okay that you have wanted to give up. But you don’t have to give up. Look about you. This forest is full because others are just like you. As you know, I have dedicated my life in search of the Ausbury; and by that search, my soul belongs to the Will of the Wisp. Some animals asked me early today, ‘Are you going to Faerewode? Don’t you know it’s haunted?’
“Owwooo! I know that I don’t care what’s called haunted and what’s not—what I care about is where the Will of the Wisp is!”
A howl of agreement erupted in the congregation.
“I don’t care how close to Faerewode’s ghouls I have to get if I can glimpse the Will of the Wisp. Because the Wisp is greater than all of that, and it can surely direct our paths.”
More agreeing howls.
“Look among you, animals. What do you see? That you are not alone in this. We stand here tonight under this new moon—a body. A body searching for the Will of the Wisp. And we can gather together always in that—”
“Glory of the Wisp! I see it!”
The bleat and pointed hoof of an elk sent a shock reverberating through the crowd of animals like an invisible shockwave had passed through the forest. Each head jerked in horror, and then sudden relief, to then sudden wonder. Cheers, tears, screams, shouts, and bays were lifting higher and higher into the night sky. There it was! There was no denying it. The Will of the Wisp. The fiery orb, floating in bands of yellow, red and golden flame among the tree trucks and leafless branches; one moment here, and the next thirty paws north, and then ten paws east, pinging and ponging about the forest in silent mystery. Animals everywhere were kneeling and lifting their hooves and paws to the sky. Shouts, howls, and squeals rushed heavenward and the forest held itself like a duckling prepares to swim, wobbling in anticipation and full of ebullient joyful assignment; yet shocked and amazed in a fearful moment of freedom, like the chick who has leapt from her nest a day too early.
For only a few moments, the light of the Wisp flickered, and then it was gone. A single moan from a desperate mouse lifted over the crowd. But from the way the once-despaired animals now acted, you would have thought the glory had imbued Itself upon them as it did Eorlhart long ago in the Aldamere. Shouts and cries of joy and celebration lifted higher and higher. The animals of Scherdal had found their hope again.
Rasicare, too, found himself trapped by Its beauty. He had forgotten all of his questions or concerns in a moment. How could he ever doubt the presence? And how could he ever doubt Its power? He felt as though he were sprinting over the top of a mountain pass, and in his paws he carried the Wood, and from his lungs he exhaled the atmosphere. If he wanted, he could leap, and his paws would take him to the stars where he could walk among them and swallow the majesty of the suns and galaxies. He was leaping on an astral plane among the planets and glimpsing all existence from a new perspective. The Great Forest was ahead of him, and nothing mattered anymore. He had seen the Will of the Wisp again.
It wasn’t until he recognized music playing that he knew he must have been caught in some sort of trance, whether from the power of the Wisp or the ecstasy of the mob. He opened his eyes to see the crowd of animals had dispersed from around him and were celebrating with food and dance.
A pair of skillful raccoons had picked up their instruments and were thumping away on lyres, while three opossums blew on flutes, and a pair of beavers slapped their tails on birch-skinned drums. Soon the melodic bleats and howls of elk, cows, and coyotes joined in, and the song chugged and bugged along in a pounding, glorious motion. The whitetails and rabbits danced in a wide, dangerous circle around the fire and stage; one hare joined the mix and leaped over the bounding deer; merry mice danced between their legs in bumbling happiness, like their adolescence had returned to them again.
Rasicare watched, and his heart was full. He had heard the legends of joy the Wisp brought with It from his Paw, when growing up; but to see it with his own eyes—the beauty of his animal-kin in dance and song, worshipping and lifting their praise to the Will of the Wisp. A she-beaver next to him was weeping for joy, and he surmised she must be the doe of Henry, who had first glimpsed the Wisp months ago. It was true. It was all true.
Rasicare, grinning and gleeful, looked up to his mentor and was shocked to see the badger standing stoic and expressionless. Cornelius’ grave face was so despondent it nearly scared the fox. He cocked his head to the side and giggled. “How in the Wood can the old badger never find excitement, even in the presence of the Wisp?” He thought to himself. He shrugged and shook his head, ignoring the badger, and joined in the dance with the she-beaver next to him.
The blissful dance lasted for an hour; shouts, tears, and new songs echoed throughout the forest, until Archbishop Douglas took to the stage again and held his paws high. The band slowed their tempo and lessened their dynamics. Douglas smiled and you could see the great, beautiful wolf had been crying just as much as the best of them.
“My brethren,” said he, quietly, and the bustle of animals hushed to a whisper. “I believe this is only the beginning. Something is happening in our midst and it is beautiful. I believe we will see the Will of the Wisp revealed, and soon and very soon, something magnificent will happen to our community. Keep your eye to the Wisp and your ear for Its Whisper. We will find the Ausbury again, and Scherdal will bring Its glory back home.”
A shout of joy and amazement shook the forest from limb to root.
Keith G. Alderman 