 
### Book One – The Western Wood

Chapter 1

Falk had lived in the Northfold all his life, up on the hill overlooking the village of Alesven. All the life that he had lived there in the village, had seen him taught many lessons. Of all those lessons he remembered only one, and that one lesson, that one piece of worldly advice that his memory did carry with it, he chose to ignore. The advice was this, 'do not go into the Western Wood Falk, there does He live with his cold sharp promises, don't go into the Western Woods'. The people of Alesven were tight lipped when it came to who He was and why they advised their children and their children's children to steer clear of the great green ocean of trees to the west of them.

When they were quizzed they would look off in that vague direction with a far away look on their faces, as far away as the woods themselves. Then they would frown and tell the curious that counting blessings should leave no time for pondering ill mystery. Falks father was a herdsman. As the boy grew older and stronger so his father grew older and weaker and it fell often and then always to Falk to tend the flock as it wandered over the rocky hills and the grassy gulleys of the Northfold. Many would find such a lifestyle idyllic in their minds eye for though the Northfold was rugged it was beautiful, but as is often the case with those who dwell within beauty their own idylls lay far from where they were.

The beauty of the Northfold never faded from itself but it did fade from the mind of Falk for though not unkind, he was a vain and restless boy who was unbowed by the majesty of his surroundings. Rather he saw them as a vast and glorious prison from which he might never escape. So it was almost a fate of his own making when one day a member of his flock which he turned safely with his crook did misstep navigating a hilly path. It fell and rolled down and away.

Falk could not make up his mind as to what to do, for if the creature lay dead then he would retrieve it at any time but, alas from the direction of the small white form at the bottom of the gulley he could hear a mournful bleating. Now as was said for all his faults Falk was not a cruel boy and he had no desire to leave the creature in pain to be set upon by the ravenous red wolves which sloped about in the caves in the hillsides of the Northfold. Falk took the remainder of the flock to a holding pen, one of a number that his father as a young man had built in the area in the shelter of a cave mouth.

He latched firmly the gate of the holding pen and set his Lur-hound Skel to guard the entrance against unwelcome foes. It would be a brave red wolf indeed that would tussle with a Lur-hound, brave to try and lucky to survive. With the herd secure, Falk began the treacherous climb down to where the fallen sheep lay. The bleats were still there, fewer though and fainter than before. Falk began to steel himself against the possibility of slaying the animal were it wounds severe enough to warrant such mercy. A full hour did the climb take for it was a treacherous way that required much care from the climber. He passed several cave mouths on his descent but they looked to be empty of any potential predator.

When he eventually reached the floor of the gulley Falk set off in the direction of where he remembered the sheep to have fallen. But search as he might the animal was not to be seen. Falks confusion swamped him. Surely the animal would have been too injured to walk unaided, but had a predator been involved then the body would not have been consumed utterly, there would have been a carpet of blood and wool and discarded remains to mark the feast. None such were seen, or so he thought at first. However after a closer examination Falk found a single clue. A few stray strands of silvery white wool snagged on a thistle. As he moved closer he saw several more anchored in a similar way and as he walked the saw that these signs did form a path which mapped the beasts direction.

Falk followed closely like a bloodhound for the traces were thin and hidden at times. So intent was he that he did not note his general direction. With every step he drew further from Alesven and the Northfold until after several thousand or so he stopped in the chill of a looming shadow. Such was his focus that he did not track the future of his pursuit. Falk looked up and with a shiver bore not just of the chill he saw that the shadow which enveloped him was from the towering trees of the Western Wood. They stood all in a line like gloomy guardsmen, branches folded across their chesty trunks, the sneering faces in the canopy speaking the unspoken warning that none may enter this place.

Falk turned and looked back at the hills of the Northhold. Scattered with gorse bushes and rocks, framed by a sun setting with startling rapidity, either the light was in a hurry to flee or the darkness was woken early from its slumber. Falk realised that he'd never looked on his home from a distance such as this before. He rued the curses that he cast upon its soil for this was no prison the place of his birth, this was a sanctuary the likes of few men benefit and many more desire. Falk shivered again in the steady wind of the forest shadow and made up his mind to turn and walk from the gloom and go back home. The sheep was lost and he had done more than most to recover it.

Just as he made to turn from the dark grey trunks that he could not comfortably bring himself to look on, Falk noticed that directly at the entrance of the forest, snagged on an upturned root end, there was a clump of silvery white wool. So the poor creature came this way. It went to its doom in the forest and was likely lost beyond recovery. This thought steadied Falk as he turned to walk away however, he was stopped again for clear as day and almost as if directly behind him there came the clear bleating of the lost sheep. The boy spun quickly seeking some sign of the creature within the confines of the wood. No such sign was seen for the guarding branches seemed reluctant to allow in the light or anything else. His eyes could not penetrate the many shades of darkness which enveloped the Western Wood.

It was then that Falk made a fateful decision and ignored the well remembered lesson of his youth. He walked to the very edge of the wood, for in his naivety he imagined the wounded and confused sheep to be but a few feet beyond its boundary and that he would walk beneath its boughs for only a few moments. Just before he set foot through the small dark archway between two of the trees Falk saw something strange at his feet. There were stones set there in the ground. They were about a hand width in diameter, each one perfectly round and in colouring half white and half black. Had he taken the time to examine them properly then Falk would have seen the many runes carved into the stones which went much deeper into the ground than he perceived, but he did not take the time. Instead he thought to ask in the village when he returned of these strange border markers at the edge of the Western Wood.

With a deep breath he squeezed in through the reluctant branches and thorns and stepped into darkness. Had Falk known truly of the malice of the woods he might have known that their reluctance to allow him entry was a façade and that it was not by chance or his own will that he trod beyond that barrier. As Falk entered the western wood the shadows of its arms did in fact usher him along, deeper and deeper into their embrace.
Chapter 2

At first he thought the darkness itself was liquid, dripping from a million branches and twigs and pooling in vast shadows on the forest floor. He realised with some surprise that it was raining here, but metres from where he stood on the outside where only a few lazy straggling clouds floated lost in the sky. Yet here the rain poured steadily. His clothing was a thick woollen affair to protect him from the bitter winds of the hilltops, even so it did not stop the curious water from dripping down his neck shocking his body with its icy cold temperature. After a few minutes his eyes adjusted marginally to the grim low-light of the forest floor. He could make out a tree from a tree and could see the slushy brown carpet of leaves at his feet well enough to move on in search of the lone and wounded member of his flock that he thought to be near.

Seconds and minutes ambled by unobtrusively. But the animal was nowhere to be found. As he slipped and slid over giant roots and the slimy mossy remnants of fallen oaks, Falk slowly became lost. He reacted to the situation as most would. More time ticked by and he told himself to stay calm, he told himself to breath deep breaths of the moist dank air and to focus now not on the lost sheep but on simply getting his bearings. But there were no bearings to be had. Each gnarled grey trunk looked much like another, light gathered in places but was drowned in its luminosity by the swathes of darkness which held dominion over this place. So more time ticked by and despair began to gnaw away at his enforced calm. Falks breaths became shallow, his heart drummed the fear inside of him, the trees heard it and they seemed to close in further on him, suffocating his ability to think clearly until he resorted to crashing wildly through the undergrowth in an attempt to be free.

Then all of a sudden he burst through a wall of bracken and landed in front of something that was definitely not a tree. Feet there were before him, feet which joined onto legs that went up and up into a body and then a head, but this was no person. The figure in front of him was painted silver, painted silver over a surface that as he laid his hand upon its rough contours Falk knew to be wood. The figure was of a man and was incredibly lifelike considering its rough material and silver colouration. Most lifelike at all were the sunken eyes which seemed to glow with moon-like evanescence. His despair was momentarily forgotten within his confusion, the statue was not of a likeness to anyone of fame he knew. What curious mind would have carved such a thing and then left it in the most remote of places never to be seen. Upon closer inspection Falk saw that the carved clothing of the statue was reminiscent of the attire of the cities of the south-lands, rarely were such folk spotted in the bounds of the north.

As Falk stood mystified he looked about and realised that this wooden silver figure was not alone, his eyes made out another two, then three, then half a dozen more dotted about in the forest nearby. Before long Falk realised to his amazement that there were dozens possibly hundreds of the silver statues in the woods. As he walked around them, now oblivious to the rain he noted that there were statues of men, women and children but that here and there dotted amongst them there were statues of things that were not human. Beings with more arms than they should have, or with the heads and bodies of beasts but standing upright. Stranger statues still met his eyes, things that looked like fiends, forms not of this world or any other, all tentacles and claws carved from wood and cased in a silver paint seemingly immune to the elements.

A host of silent silver figures stood rooted on the forest floor, Falk walked beneath their quiet glowing stares. The forest seemed lighter, whether or not it was the statues creating their own illumination, or that the trees were more permissive in allowing the light to pierce the canopy here Falk did not know. But he could at last see far off through the trees, and he saw that the gathering of statues extended just as far as his eyesight. Then Falk noted a statue that was different to the others in its dimensions. Certainly it looked human but as he neared it he saw that it was very much taller than a person. The figure filled a clearing with its width and in height it was lost above the trees. As Falk looked up he could see that the statue of the giant extended up above beyond the canopy. It was this break in the ceiling of the trees that was allowing so much light to flood the area.

The vast statue loomed over him as he approached. Three full grown men could have fit in just the giants boot, its knee alone was many feet beyond Falks reach. Like all the others it was carved from wood and painted silver, smooth in places, rough and bark-like in others. As he stood in the shadow of the giant a sound came to Falks ear. It was a rhythmic thumping with a familiarity he could not place at first but the more he listened the more it sounded like a heartbeat, a deep, slow , ponderous heartbeat. Falk stepped closer to the statue of the giant to better discern the sound but as he lay a hand on the feet of the colossus a voice from behind broke his concentration.

"Who are you, so bold in your curiosity that you would lay your hand on that which is mine?". The voice was distorted and had a rasping tinny sound to it.

Falk spun and searched for the source of the question. There was another clearing, separated from the one in which he now stood by a thin line of trees. Through those trees Falk saw a figure, but this was no silver statue, this entity was alive and moving with a purpose.

"Speak and come closer, come closer and speak, do anything but do something, do not stand and gawk for you compound the rudeness of your intrusion with your silence" he spoke with his back turned to Falk.
Chapter 3

'Do not go into the western woods Falk, there does he dwell with his cold sharp promises'

The strangers voice was not a pleasant one. It was relaxed in a way that made it seemed forced, when someone with a great deal of anger is struggling to sound pleasant. It sounded like steel scraping on rock. But Falk could stand still no longer. Though in his mind he screamed at himself to run there were other voices in his head that told him running was not an option, he'd been running for hours and was as lost as lost can be. Though it might be against his better judgement the being who'd spoken to him was undoubtedly the He about whom the villagers of Alesven whispered in fear, this was his realm and entrance to and exit from it would be governed by his will or at least his knowledge. Falk chose not to run.

The herder from the Northfold walked through the line of think spindly trees towards the figure who spoke. As he entered the large clearing Falk noticed several things. The rain which had dogged him even as he walked amidst the statues was not present here, though nor was the sunlight, the clearing was filled with an overpower greyness, infinite shades of slate and iron colours defined the trees and the leaves and the dirt. There was a house, it was a ramshackle thing, built up on high stilts as if to protect it from flooding, though how it could flood here far from the seas and rivers Falk knew not. Shadows clung to the overhang of the roof and the windows, it was made up of a dark wood which only enhanced its obsidian countenance.

Also Falk noticed that the clearing was devoid of the statues populating much of the area, all bar one, a half finished piece on which the stranger now worked. With his back to Falk the being worked feverishly carving and cutting. The legs were shaped already but from the waist up was still rough and misshapen. More of the tree remained yet to be be planed and moulded into the shape of the figure it would become. As Falk neared to within a few metres of where the stranger was he finally stopped in his labours to address the newcomer.

"The original question still stands boy, who are you?"

"I am Falk, Falk of Alesven".

"Falk, Falk of Alesven", the stranger repeated his words, rolling them over and around with his harsh voice, contemplating them, dissecting them for some other meaning.

"And why Falk, against the wisdom and tutoring of your elders and betters have you come here, why have you trespassed into the Western Wood?".

Falk answered hesitantly, "How is it that you know of the lessons of the western wood" he asked. At that the being gave something that Falk assumed was a laugh, a guttural coughing sound. As he laughed he turned for the first time to face Falk. His features matched the cruelty of his voice. From behind he'd appeared hunch-backed and deformed with arms longer than his legs, his face was a picture of malice. A sharp hairless facial structure formed an almost V shape at his pointed chin, his nose was similarly thin and pointed downwards, his eyes were beady and dark. The skin was a pallid grey, the cheeks pockmarked and scarred, his ears were pointed and very small. The beings mouth was also thin with dark lips that held a blueish tinge, they formed a cruel dagger like grin which was as far from friendly as unfriendly can get.

"In all the places of the outside they teach the likes of you to be afraid of the likes of me, whether you come from Alesven or Blessard or Far Dowlden, whether you be a city dweller or a hill-walker, whether or not you sleep on silk or straw, I have long known that you are told to be fearful of the western wood" He paused for a few moments and then added ominously "And Me who dwells within it".

Falks fear was stirred with every word, he realised oh too late his mistake. He made to back away from the being of the western wood, to stumble lost forever would be a better fate than to seek the guidance of this man, if he could be called that. But as Falk moved backwards those thin and spindly trees which ringed the clearing came suddenly to life, they grabbed at the boys arms and legs, gripping and pinching and holding him with a tightness stronger than any resolve he could muster. The deformed figure came close, so close that Falk could smell his fetid stench, could see that blackened teeth behind thin dark lips. "What are you doing in my woods boy?". Falk struggled petrified under the steady stare of his captor. "Please, I beg of you, I came seeking my lost sheep, I sought only to return him to my flock and intended no insult with my intrusion".

The figure cocked his head and looked mildly amused at this answer. "They use to come for glory and gold, and now they come looking for lost sheep" he cackled. The trees gripped Falk so hard that he cried out in pain, those that held him hardest bit through his clothing and drew blood from his skin. With a gesture from the stranger the trees released Falk and he fell to the floor clutching his bruised and blooded legs. "Please sir, just let me go" Falk begged.

"Go?" said the stranger "You can't go yet boy, you haven't asked of me a wish".

"I wish for nothing but my freedom" pleaded Falk, but the stranger seemed not to hear.

"They come to me, they make a wish, they leave and then return, and if they do not honour their debt, then both wish and maker burn" he spoke to himself pacing back and forth.

"Please, I wish for nothing, I desire only to leave and return to my flock". Falk stood now having recovered a little of his composure, fear was still rank within him but he tried still to bargain for his freedom.

"You must have many questions" said the stranger, halting his pacing and staring directly at Falk?"

"I question nothing sir, I have stumbled into your realm by accident, I apologise for any affront I have caused and would now seek only my freedom". The stranger waved a dismissive hand at Falks words. "Ask your questions and you may find what you seek".

Falks mind raced. It was obvious that this being controlled the will and actions of the trees themselves, running and begging had not helped so Falk would try now to play along with his jailers game until an opportunity for escape presented itself. "Why has the sun not set?" the boy asked, the stranger cocked his head again in that quizzical manner, so Falk elaborated. "When I looked upon the Northfold before entering the woodland realm the sun was nearly set, yet this place is set in a permanent half light, an all pervading glooming that is neither light nor dark that has lasted past the coming of night?".

"A curious intellect lurks within the mind of this sheep herder" mused the stranger. "Suffice to say that when you entered the wood you stepped far further from the Northfold than your minds knows, it is not that the sun does not set here, it is that it has not set yet, though the hour draws closer". Even as the stranger spoke Falk sensed it, there was a change to the lighting in the clearing, though it was still grey the light which lit the clearing seem to come less from the scant breaks in the canopy of the woods and more from elsewhere, then Falk saw the source of the light, as darkness descended on the woods the silver which encased the wooden statues of the forest began to glow brighter, a thousand silvery lanterns throwing shadows through the rain filled forest.

"What about the rain?" said Falk "When I walked across the woods boundary it was a near cloudless day, but here the torrent is ceaseless."

"Again your senses, as undeveloped and limited as they are, deceive you, in simple terms the western wood is not the western wood". This made no sense to Falk, west was west and what could be seen and touched was what is, the strangers words confused Falk and cemented Falks suspicions that he was being beguiled in some way.

"Do you not get lonely?" asked Falk seeking to detract the focus away from himself while he formulated an escape plan.

"Lonely?"

"In these vast woods by yourself, as you say the outside are taught to fear and loathe you, do you not yearn for some company?" Again came the laughter.

"Boy, I am surrounded by company, the woods are alive with companionship for one such as me" Falk looked about at the desolate grey woods, in his time here he'd seen no creature nor heard no sign of any bird, this was a desert of trees. The stranger continued, with bitterness in his voice this time.

"And as for the loathing of the world let me tell you something boy, who they truly loathe is themselves" the stranger sounded positively livid now "Do you know how many of those people cry themselves to sleep begging for someone to make their world right, begging for a wish that might grant them respite from the dull and boring horror of their pointless lives" he began to pace again "And so I grant it to them, I grant them these wishes, in exchange for but a little recognition, a little loyalty. When that loyalty is not forthcoming then by their own hand their wishes turn on them"

He stopped now and shook his fist in the air with rage.

"So then I am punished for their failings, for their dishonour they drive me into this place, and they bar me entry to the kingdom with their stones and the old magic." He calmed suddenly and looked slyly at Falk "But sometimes they come to me still, those with wishes in their hearts, those deemed worthy by their own greed". Falk knelt cowed in the silver light of the statues.

"Tell me your wish boy?" the stranger said quietly to Falk.

"Sir I tell you I have no wish"

"LIAR" roared the stranger, his voice was changed with that word, there was something else behind it, behind the tinny rasping croak of a voice there was a deep and angry tone like distant thunder. As he shouted he pointed an accusing finger at Falk. A branch from one of the guardian trees which had earlier released him snapped into action with its master bellow. The thin and spiteful branch wrapped itself around Falks neck with snake like speed and yanked him to his feet, tightening and strangling the boy.

"You will tell me what you wish for" spoke the stranger to the choking Falk.

"I do not know, I have never pondered wishes, we are not all so weak as you say and I do not know where to start looking for wishes I have never had"

"Start with your fear, for there does most desire find its purpose" said the terrifying stranger leaning into but inches from Falks face, held as he was by the strangling tree Falk could not recoil from the foulness of the being.

"Tell me what you fear boy, and I will cause you to never fear such things again". Falk could feel his eyes bulging in their sockets and he began to lose consciousness, even through the descending blackness he felt the waves of utter terror battering his mind. A poor and restless shepherd boy, keen to listen and quick to forget, Falk deserved many fates but not this one, chance kindness had brought him under the violent whim of this mad and unpredictable stranger. Just as he felt his body giving up on its struggle to stay within the realm of the living he barely choked out two words.

"My father".

The branch released him. Falk fell forward and greedily sucked in gulps of precious air. The stranger leaned in close to him "You are afraid of your father?"

"No" said Falk "Not of him but of what he has become, his age, his weakness, the leeching of his ambition by the steady hand of time, so you ask me my fear and my wish and you are right, they are one and the same, the doom of age, the bane of the mortal and if I could wish it then I would be free of such things, free from the fate shared by all those who breath the mortal air".

The stranger clicked his fingers and the cruel branches reached out again, but this time they held back their cruelty, they lifted him with almost over the top gentleness to his feet. "You would no longer be the servant of time, I have the perfect wish for you boy" The stranger put his hand to Falks cheek. When he was less than a decade in years Falk had fallen into the Dagmir swamp, he'd thrashed and struggled amidst the leeches and the worms and the pestilent caress of the dank waters. The touch of the stranger reminded him of the swamp. His tormentor leaned in and whispered a single word in Falks ear and then stood back. "Remember that word boy and remember it well, for true as you hear these words, when you speak it time will no longer be your master". Drained, mentally and physically as he was Falk made note to himself to forget that word as soon as he was able, just as he meant to forget this whole experience if it ever came to an end.

"And now, young Falk of Alesven, we will talk about the price for the priceless blessing you have just received, we talk about your loyalty, we will talk about what you will do in exchange for your freedom from the servitude of time". Falk rubbed his bruised, swollen throat. Though he thought himself numb through fear and pain when he looked into the beady malevolent gaze of the statue maker he felt the fires of his dread stirred anew.
Chapter 4

When Falk awoke his eyes found sanctuary in the stars. He was lying on the cold hard ground at the edge of the western wood, the sneering trees loomed over him still so he got to his feet and moved to a safe distance. The words of the master of the wood still echoed in his mind. Falk could not forget them, nor could forget the cryptic wish he'd been granted. He swore then to never speak it aloud, that tainted talisman which the statue maker had given him. Shocked, cold and bedraggled the lateness of the hour suddenly hit him. Falk ran back towards the Northfold and started to climb the side of the gulley, it was a slow mission for in the light he'd spied every welcoming sturdy rock and foothold but lack lustre illumination of the moon did little to highlight this difficult path. After an hour or so of hard climbing he hauled himself over the top.

After only the briefest of respites Falk hurried towards the holding pen where he'd left Skel and the flock. Given the mysterious talk by the stranger of the wood regarding time he could only guess how long it had been since the sun had set. Likely his family and many others from the village were out looking for him by now, wandering the hills with brands and calling out his name. Falk stopped every now and then to see if he could hear such but the night was silent.

When Falk reached the holding pen a tragedy met his eyes. For as if the boy had not endured enough of this day now the night brought him new woes and terrors. A sight of carnage met his eyes. There lay Skel, dead beneath the moonlight but not alone, around him were four of the red-wolves, all bloody and torn to death themselves. Inside the holding pen was worse slaughter to be found, no red-wolves in there just his herd, every last member of his flock, threats torn out, meat consumed and blood painted on the rocks. Shocked all Falk could do was kneel and stare at the end of his families only means, and of Skel who had been a good and loyal guardian of the flock right up until his final bloody breath. A voice from the darkness pierced Falks melancholy.

"Been some hours since the incident, going by the tracks there must have been a full pack, a dozen or more, Skel did well by us boy".

"Father" Falk cried, he raced to where his father stood and without words embraced him and buried his tears in the old mans shoulders. "I am sorry father, so sorry" sobbed Falk. Aldwyn of Alesven, son and grandson of sheep-herders who were sons and grandsons of sheep-herders comforted his own boy with quiet acceptance of his grief and sorrow. Then after a time he spoke again to Falk.

"Tell me the way of it boy, what befell our herd"

"A lonely member fell father, down into the gulley yonder, I sought to go down to the animal, to return it or end its misery, but I could not find no sign, and I searched and searched but it was gone, and when the darkness came I climbed back to find the bloodshed". Falk was never sure why he lied, in his mind he had it framed to tell his father of entering the woods and the things he'd seen there, but when the words escaped his lips tales of such things were not among them, nor would they ever be in the history of the words which passed from then on between Falk and his Father.

"And what of these marks on you, these viscous wounds on your arms and legs?" Falks father asked with concern. "I encountered red-wolves in the gulley father, they attacked and I fought with them".

"Red wolves try to strangle you did they?" said Aldwyn tilting his sons head back and motioning at the bruises on his neck. "Father, please, I do not lie to you but nor is the truth in fullness present, can we not leave all sayings unsaid until there is a better light to say them by?" said Falk not meeting his fathers gaze.

As Aldwyn of Alesven had grown in age he had grown in patience, never had his love for his family needed to grow for it was without limit from the outset. He looked at the bruised and exhausted Falk and decided to press him no more that night on the inconsistencies of his tale. Their families livelihood was dead and gone, they would find hard enough times ahead without harsh words passing between them too soon. So Aldwyn accepted his sons story. Together they carried Skeln's body and buried him in the long grass just outside the village. The search parties were called in an Falk was returned home to a mother who smothered him with love and worry. It was close to dawn when finally sleep found Falk, but even in his absence from the waking world he was tormented by the sight of silver statues, cruel trees and the figure that moved in their midst.

Things got hard for Falk and his family. Though many well wishers came by with their condolences and their gifts of bread and meats Alesven was a poor village, the condolences as sincere as they were could only last so long, as could the loaves and meats. Most struggled to keep a single family fed and healthy, there were none in Alseven who had both the means and the will to support two. Added to which Aldwyn was a proud man who could accept charity for only so long. Falks mother, Belessa was a seamstress by trade, as were half the other women of the village, the meagre moneys earned from the clothes she made were barely enough to pay for the materials to make them.

Aldwyns line had always been shepherds, he had no other skills or trade. Though he did try. He tried his hand at labour but was deemed to old and weak for the younger bullish men of the village did lift and shift far more. He tried his hand at the clerks office but numbers were never his skill, beyond the counting of his herd he'd never had need of them, the master clerk was polite and well spoken when he told Aldwyn that they would not need his services any more. The old man tried for many weeks but there was no role for him in Alesven aside from the one that had been taken from him by the unknowing cruelty of the red wolves.

Neither Aldwyn nor Belessa had family in the village for they'd migrated north decades ago seeking a new life, knowing little that it might lead to this. There was talk of going back south to where they had relatives and could find work. But south was a long way, such journeys required food and shelter along the way and they could ill afford either.

Falk was young and strong and able, he thought to easily fill the role of provider but cursed he was too cursed in his endeavours, though by a different bane than that which plagued Aldwyn for Falk was both strong and good with numbers. Falk toured the village with his father, who presented him for work to fellow villagers who he'd known for decades. But there labours came to nowt. For Noam the baker said that the ovens were fully tended, and Kel the butcher said that he had enough cleavers. No matter to whom they went there was no work. At one stop Aldwyn asked Falk to wait outside whilst he spoke privately with Rogan the smith.

As Falk loitered he heard raised voices within, though beyond the thick walls and beating hammers it was difficult to discern what was being said, although towards the end Falk though he heard the words "rumour" and "tainted" and "Western wood". With a sick sense of dread Falk suddenly realised why his job hunting fortunes were yielding little worth.

Finally they found a friendly face. Old Glenn was their last port of call one weary day. Old Glenn was the harvest master. There were many fertile fields and and much rich soil in the less hilly parts of the Northfold. Old Glenn was the man tasked by the local labour-lord to bring the crops in on time and in good condition. Every year around harvest time Old Glenn would take on many extra hands to collect the grain, the barley and the fruit crops from the lower fields of the Northfold. Glenn worked out of a station in town and it was here that Aldwyn and Falk found him.

"Ho Glenn" called out Aldwyn.

"Ho Aldy" said the wiry figure sitting atop a nearby wagon eating slices of apple with a twine knife, traditionally used for slicing the twine used for hay bales. Glenn and Aldwyn had been friends for many years. Long ago when Aldwyn and Belessa were relative newcomers to the town there had been an outbreak of wold-fever, Glenn and his family came down badly with it, there was much fear in the village over the disease, some said it was a fate that fell on wrongdoers, Aldwyn and Bel did not subscribe to such beliefs and as neighbours at the time they'd nursed Glenn and his kin through the fever. Old Glenn had sworn to Aldwyn never to forget such kindness.

"What brings you out this way, hoping for the ripe pick of the strawberries?, cause if ye are you're too late, just shipped em down to Albury". Aldwyn laughed, to Falk it sounded forced, much of Aldwyns joviality sounded forced these days.

"No you old crank, I'm looking for work" Now it was Old Glenn who laughed.

"Work! You should be sipping brandy on your porch and watching the world go by at your age"

"The chance would be nice" bantered Aldwyn, "But no not for me, for my son Falk" he motioned to Falk who stepped forward. Old Glenn leaned forward and peered at Falk from beneath the shade of his straw hat, Falk noted that several of the other harvest workers who'd been loading grain onto the wagon on which Glenn sat stopped and pointed hostile glares in Falks direction at the mention of his name.

"Ho there Falk" said Old Glenn in his thick accent which seemed to roll every word into one. "Ho there Mr Glenn sir". Old Glenn smiled.

"Just Glenn is fine lad, so you're looking for some work?".

"Yes sir, I mean Glenn, we lost our herd you see, and I'm just looking to make my way for me and my family". Glenn sat back on his wagon chair and nodded slicing off another piece of a juicy Alesven red and crunching on it contemplatively. "Well lad, that's a simple but noble thing to say, and I heard about your issues with the sheep too, those damn wolves". Falk stood silent, Old Glenn looked from him to Aldwyn, something seemed to pass between them in that moment. Glenn looked back at Falk "Glad to have you on board, you can start with those there sacks of grain" said Glenn, his face breaking into a smile. As he spoke there were several mutterings from the men working at the back of the wagon which Glenn swiftly silenced "Less muttering and more hauling, when one of you is Harvest-master then one of you will call the shots, though I doubt you will ever get that far making loose judgements on people" the group fell silent but shot Falk several stares as he started to lug the sacks of grain onto the wagon.

"Thank you Glenn" said Aldwyn simply.

"No thanks required Aldy" said Glenn in response before going back to his apple crunching. Aldwyn walked home leaving Falk to work the last hour of daylight filling wagons. As night fell Old Glenn told Falk to return on the morrow for work out in the fields.

Falk arrived at work with the sunrise. He and the work-team which was around fifty strong moved out on Old Glenns instructions. Although a cold and biting wind touched all those who walked across the top of the hills of the Northfold there were a number of gulleys and hidden fields, some large, some small, where the villagers grew large amounts of grain and numerous fruits. Some of it went to the village stores but a large amount went south to Albury and then the cities, traded for coin to buy those things that did not grow locally.

Many hoped that sufficient funds would be raised soon to buy another herd of sheep, for the wool and meat of the herds was sorely missed in the village since the attack by the red-wolves. Falk was put in a team which worked one of the large fields to the south of the town in a hidden gulley. With his scythe blade he made his way up and down the rows of corn, cutting them down cleanly for the bundlers to follow up and gather and tie them into bundles. Falk worked tirelessly, he drank and ate little so keen was he to try and sweat off the stigma which now followed him in the village. And it paid off, as the day drew to a close he received several curt nods of approval from his fellows. Though they did not speak to him, at least the hostility was gone from their eyes.

They finished up for the day and a weary Falk returned home. He felt rejuvenated and rewarded by both the hearty meal his mother had prepared for him and the looks in both Belessa and Aldwyns eyes when he told them of his day. Maybe just finally things were beginning to turn after the tragedy of Falks day in the western wood.

Old Glenn rolled the dead corn over his hands for some minutes. He knelt at the head of the field with Falk and the work team standing nervously behind him. From beneath his old straw hat the harvest-master looked out on the grey field, like a sea of ash. Not one single spot of the golden yellow the field had been the day before remained. They heard him muttering to himself as he knelt there "Ain't see the like, in all these years". One of the older workman went out to speak to him. After several minutes they returned to the main group.

"Well boys, I've spoken with Bron here and we have agreed that this is a fair mystery, in five decades of working the fields of the Northfold I have never seen a crop just dry up and die like this, some sort of pestilence or something, I don't know". He paused for a few moments.

"Well the labour-lord ain't paying us to stand around, there is nothing to be done here so Bron will take you up to one of the orchards, there's still plenty of apple picking to be done. So they made their way from the previous days field which now lay grey and dead. As they walked to the orchards Falk noticed that several of the hostile stares had returned and that many whisperings were heard just out reach of his hearing, though he could guess their meaning.

Falk spent the rest of the day felling apples and telling himself that his presence and the death of the crops were completely unrelated.

The next morning he returned to the orchard with his team. There were maggots, The floor was alive with them, they wriggled and wormed amidst the consumed husks of an entire orchard of apples. Glenn was summoned and again he and Bron and all the others stared in disbelief at the ruined crop in front of them. Old Glenn looked at Falk, there was a wariness in his gaze now, one that had not been there before. He took Falk aside and explained that he was transferring him to another team. "Probably nothing you know boy, but they are a suspicious bunch the villagers, I'm going to have you back at the storehouse loading wagons from now on, nothing personal eh?". Falk nodded glumly and made his way back to the village storehouse where he tried to exhaust his worry through hard work, in his weariness he found himself closing his eyes and each time he did he saw maggots devouring the world.

Falk went home that night withrdrawn and sombre but still he did not lay his burdens upon Belessa and Aldwyn for they had enough to bear of their own. That day working at the local stores was the last day Falk would work in the village.

He woke to the sound of screams, for a second he thought that he'd slept past the coming of the sun for there was an orange glow that pierced the grubby window of his sparse room. But then he smelt the acrid smoke and knew that the source of this light was much closer than the heavenly star above his world. The fire raged through the village storehouse decimating a full days worth of gatherings that dozens of teams had worked to diligently to cut, bundle and bring in. Without words every man woman and child in Alesven worked their practised parts in forming chains from the wells and the streams and the sand banks. It took many hours but eventually the fire was brough under control and prevented from spreading to any of the other buildings. Once the blaze was fully out many of the villagers sloped back to their beds or even fell and slept where they were for they'd worked tirelessly one and all to save their homes.

Falk went with Belessa and Aldwyn back to their brown wooden shack on the edge of town. Aldwyn had built their home with his bare hands when they'd migrated up from the south. After twenty years of wind and rain and damp it was in dire need of repairs that could not be afforded. Belessa prepared some tea, few words were said and then as the sun began to creep over the horizon there came the knocking at the door which Falk had expected.

Old Glenn nodded at Belessa, Aldwyn motioned for him to sit but the harvest-master delcined, Falk simply stared sullenly at the uneven surface of their dining table.

"I'm sorry Aldwyn" said Glenn, "But that's two days worth of dead crops and now a fire, the rest of the teamsmen, well they are refusing to go out if Falk is present. Now to my mind there could be no connection" Falk noticed the 'could', even Glenn now believed that it was Falks presence which was destroying much of the village livelihood. Glenn placed a small cloth bag on the table.

"There's a months wages by way of compensation, sorry lad" said Glenn nodding to Falks parents and then leaving.

Aldwyn just stared at the pouch on the desk whilst Belessa wept. Falk told them then, of the dead grey wheat and the maggots. Falk wept too and asked his parents whether he was cursed. They hugged him then, that there was no curse more powerful than their love and that he should push such thoughts from his mind, they were simply having a run of bad luck. Even as they hugged him and spoke their words of comfort Falk felt a change in them, there was a distance now, a gulf that he could feel despite their proximity, a coldness where there should have been warmth.
Chapter 5

Things got worse for this small family in Alesven. Word of the problems working for the harvest-master soon spread, it was not long before the whole village was regarding Falk and his family with the same hostile and suspicions glares. The months wages that Falk received did little to alleviate the situation. A week after the fire Falk came back home in the middle of the day to find Belessa alone in the kitchen. Falk asked where Aldwyn was and mother told him he was sleeping which was extremely odd for his father given that it was the middle of the day. Then Falk noticed the broken remnants of a bottle of Borlial Fine Rum near the back door. A look of silent understanding passed between Falk and his mother.

Falk took to begging but was soon dissuaded from doing so by the village warder who dragged Falk back to his home on several occasions. The warder made numerous threats to Falks parents regarding reporting Falk to the town magistrate in Albury. Belessa apologised with profuse embarrassment, the warder sympathised with their plight and said that he would hold off for now but that Alesven was not a place for beggars. So Falk could not benefit from the voluntary kindness of the people of his village, so he started to benefit from their involuntary lack of vigilance. Falk began to steal. A loaf of bread here, a jar of sweet honey there. Apples from the orchard and salt from the poorly locked stores.

When Falk first started bringing home the bounty of his night time pilfering Belessa was furious, but she ate, as time went by the fury faded and she silently accepted the foodstuffs that a tired Falk would carry in with him in the small hours of the morning.

However Alesven was not a large village, certainly not large enough for a career thief to go go unnoticed in his felonious endeavours. Though there were mutterings in the village tavern about who the obvious culprit was there was no proof. Falk started to encounter difficulties however. Sturdier locks, doors where doors were not found before, Lur-hounds guarding that which they would not have needed guarding before. Because of these night time sentinels Falk was forced to start stealing during the day. Aldwyn had taken so heavily to drink that he was intoxicated most of the time, Belessa was so grateful to be able to eat that she did not restrain her sons criminal activities.

Thus did things continue in this manner for some weeks until there came the inevitable breaking point.

Selena Ithmils Candy Orchard was the only shop town which sold the sugary treats craved by so many, hence it was a popular place for the village children and many of their parents to spend money on an array of sweets and candy. During better times as a child Falk had visited her store often as a smiling child spending his tiny copper coins on delightful wares which Selena dispensed. It was a shame that it had come to this then, for Selena Ithmils spent much of her morning staring out of the shop window at the grubby shifty looking man that Falk had become as he loitered in the shadowy alleyway opposite her shop.

The day wore on and Selena could not maintain her vigil permanently for the schoolhouse was closed for the day and her shop was filled with smiling happy faces, much as Falk had once been. Selena was franticly busy dispensing gob-stoppers and liquorish and sugar canes when one of the children, Boris Bywater son of the school master, announced that he much desired a honeycomb square. Selena saw that the jar which normally held the crunchy brown honeycomb was empty, so told Boris to wait but a few moments whilst she went to the out-house to stock up. The outhouse was a store room at the back of the shop which was normally locked during the night but because of the frequency of her trips out to it Selena left open during the day. As she pulled out an un-opened jar of honey-comb and made to leave Selena heard furtive shuffling at the back of the store-room. She turned and looked at the poorly lit back area of the store.

"I know its you Falk, you may as well show yourself". Falk moved forward but at a pace which Selena was not expecting. Falk had no intention of being court and he barged into the shop-keeper knocking her down as he went.

Selena cried out as she fell and Falk turned and with chagrin saw that the kindly sweet dispenser had fallen and cut her head on the out-house door, blood streamed down her face from the nasty looking gash on her forehead. Selena looked up at Falk woozily and muttered "You stupid boy". Falk turned and ran, he fled home as quickly as he was able. Belessa was not home and Aldwyn could be heard snoring deeply from the bedroom, the smell of alcohol almost as pervasive as the sound of his snores.

For some minutes Falk sat shaking at their dining table trying to figure a plan, but the time for quick action was long passed, even as he sat and contemplated escape the door of the shack burst open, in came the village warder with two of his watchmen, the warder, a thickset man by the name of Gulk raised his stout cudgel and Falks world went dark.

As with most thieves greed had been his downfall. He'd gone from stealing the odd necessity here and there to outrageous thefts of valuables and luxury foodstuffs. A day did not pass when Falk did not curse that fateful meeting with the statue maker and the terrible fortunes that had befallen him and his house since. The three days he spent locked in a cell in the local block-house, that was the warders headquarters, were spent dwelling more deeply than others. Solitary confinement is a fantastic catalyst for pondering one's own downfall, tracing time and time the threads of personal history that wove down to this low point.

At night Falk would dream of red-wolves, he would feel them rending at his flesh and awake in a cold sweat that he more than once mistook for blood. Belessa visited but passed little comfort through the bars of Falks cell. Of his father Falk saw nothing.

It took three days for the magistrate to arrive from Albury. He rode into town in an ornate carriage flanked by half a dozen guardsmen. The warder of Alesven and his watchmen were a light militia force, there more for show than any real need to maintain order. Such order as needed maintaining in a village the size of Alesven was most of the time handled in house, if only it had been the way with Falk, these guards though were a different affair. They were cold eyed and hard men, likely former professional soldiers, they rode their horses in that manner of those who have spent many years doing so, and they carried their razor sharp short-swords at their sides with confidence and casual ease.

The trial was held in the village hall. It was a short and simple affair. The bored pasty faced magistrate struck the table before him several times to silence the shouts of "Cursed thief" which came from the public before asking Selena Ithmil to step forward. The sweet-shop owner looked pale but determined and she had an extravagant looking bandage wrapped around her head. Falk felt this to be a little over the top but then he supposed they did not want her injury to look superficial lest the magistrate pass a more lenient sentence. Falks trial lasted for about ten minutes. He could not deny his actions, he'd been spotted running from the scene and in addition the Warder had conducted a thorough search of his families premises and discovered a near trove of hidden loot. Besides that Falk did not wish to escape punishment, he yearned for it, yearned for the solace it might bring.

Once he'd heard from Selena and various other members of the township the magistrate stood and spoke in a thin nasal voice. "Whatever tragedies that may have given rise to criminal aspirations of the accused are of little relevance. King Eldelins rule is clear, thieves will be punished. Falk of Alesven I sentence you to a public flogging of twenty turns of the lash, the sentence to be carried out immediately". With a curt wave of his hand two of the magistrates guards grabbed Falk and dragged him out of the hall into the village square. Winter was in the air and Falk shivered at the chill wind which blew.

The townsfolk followed them outside and watched the guards strap Falk to the whipping post in the centre of the square. Such punishment as this had not been seen in Alesven for many years, the post was unused for its original purpose and served nowadays as a place for hanging flowers and posting local events. There were many smug looks in the crowd from those cruel taunters who had called Falk cursed. Falk saw that Old Glenn and Selena stood with the crowd but neither of them looked in his direction, both gazed at the floor and neither shared the look of triumph present on many of the faces there. The magistrate looked on impassively.

When as a boy Falk had once spoken curses at his mother then Aldwyn had laid a whip across his hands as punishment. But nothing could have prepared Falk for the searing pain as the whip lashed down onto his back, pealing back the skin and spraying blood out into the cold air. As the whip struck twice and then three times Falks scream's worsened. The smug smiles of the crowd vanished, most now shared the uncomfortable countenance of Selena and Glenn. As the whip came down a fourth time Falk heard a shout of protect from the crowd. "NOOO" roared Aldwyn stepping forward. Finally, his father come to save him at the final hour. But then Falk noticed something strange about the way Aldwyn moved as he walked out of the crowd.

The former sheep herder was staggering. He was bleary eyed and in his right hand he carried a near consumed bottle of Fine Rum "Get away from my son". Falks heart was torn, he felt such pride and gratitude for his fathers show of loyalty, but it was mixed with shame for Aldwyn slurred each word he spoke, his intoxication was obvious.

What happened next seemed to happen almost in slow motion. Falk saw his father walk forward towards one the two magistrate guards who stood between the crowd and the punished. The guard held up his hand to put upon Aldwyns chest in restraint but it never made contact, the empty bottle of thick glass crashed against the side of the guards head, it shattered on impact and the guard fell twitching to the floor. There were gasps and cries of dismay as Aldwyn dropped the remnants of the bottle and moved towards his son with outstretched hands ready to free him from his bonds. Falk heard the rasp of steel as the other guard drew his short sword and cleaved it into his fathers head. In that instant everything changed. Falk had endured much over these past few months. The incident in the western wood, the death of his hound and his herd, the slow destruction of his family due to his mistakes.

But in that instant it all came to a head in his mind, the roaring tumult of guilt and pain which had been building inside of him for weeks came pouring out as Falk screamed out a single word into the world, it was the word that he'd sworn he would never speak, it was the word the dark figure of the woods had whispered to him, the word was the wish of the statue maker.
Chapter 6

The roaring was gone. The guilt was gone. In fact for the first time in his life Falk felt what he thought to be contentment. Falk opened his eyes. The pace of the incident seemed to have slowed somewhat. The members of the crowd who'd surged forward towards Adlwyn were stopped in their tracks though Falk could not fathom why. The pasty face of the magistrate seemed frozen in shocked indigence. Falk turned his head and saw that the magistrate's guardsmen who'd been responsible for administering his punishment stood still as well, the whip hovering in half-motion above his head ready to come down upon the convicted. Then Falk stared at the part of the village square which he'd been trying to avoid.

His father and the magistrate's guard were frozen in a statue of death. The guard had not moved after delivering the killer blow, his father somehow stood as well, the sword buried in his skull down to his eye-line, a trickle of blood, a single sanguine tear ran down past his right eye and over his mouth, but it advanced no further. "Father" whispered Falk, his voice filled with tears.

"FATHER" he screamed but was not heard. Falk struggled with his bonds, after some minutes he was able to free himself, still no one had moved, the crowd stood stock still, the killer guardsman did not withdraw his blade, father stood there beneath the terrible blow, by some miracle still on his feet. When finally free Falk staggered forward and put a hand upon Aldwyn shoulder.

"Father, please answer me, what is this mad fantasy that beguiles me" but Aldwyn was silent.

Falk turned to the figure of the guardsman "murderer" he shouted, throwing all his weight behind a blow which landed in the passive guardsman's cheek, Falk recoiled following the punch, he cradled his hand in which he suspected there was several broken bones from the feel and look of them, though he felt no pain which perplexed him. The guardsman's skin was solid like stone. Falk turned and reached a tentative hand up to his own fathers face, it was similarly hard and inhospitable to the touch. "Have I died, is this my hell, stuck in the lowest moment of my life as an eternal reminder of my failures?" Falk asked to the empty air. Then he remembered.

As the blade that ended his fathers life had come down, Falk had screamed out the word whispered to him by the statue maker, and now as he looked at the still and silent world around him Falk remembered. "When you speak it time will no longer be your master".

Falk looked up at the clouds, they were stationary, he walked up and down the line of townsfolk gathered in the square, he waved his hands and shouted directly in front of them and there was no response. Falk climbed the steps of the village hall and tried to push the magistrate from them with all his strength, he did not budge, but he did not resist, he may as well have been on the other side of the world for all the effect Falks presence was having on him or anyone else.

There were questions. Many questions, how long would this last, and in what would he measure such lengths if time was as it appeared to be , stopped?. How far out did this phenomenon extend, the square? Falk listened intently, true silence met his ears, not the background noise of the world which fills our minds eye when there is noting else to do so, but the utter absence of sounds of any kind, no birds, no turning wheels, no crying babes.

The whole village then, the Northfold? The kingdom? Falk looked up, this time fearfully, at the frozen heavens over Alesven, even further?. This situation was almost too much for the young lad to bear, he wasn't sure where to start so he turned to his father and he wept in mourning for even with the absence of time he was still dead and had died misguided but was still trying to help his son. Falks tears were moist and warm as they rolled down his cheeks but as they fell from his face and struck the ground they became solid and cold the same as everything that was absent from direct contact with him.

After a time Falk got to his feet and wandered through the village looking for signs of life as he knew, but everywhere there were statues. Some of them smiled and some of them frowned, they set, they ran, they sewed and they baked, but they all were still and silent. Frozen in a single moment. Falk circled the whole village, nothing and no-one moved or made a sound. Eventually Falk made his way to his families shack and inside he did shed more tears, for sat at the old dining table with her face lit by a solitary unwavering candle was his mother, her face a picture of worry and desperation. Like her husband a single stream of liquid was frozen on her face but hers was a salty tear and not of blood. In Belessa's infinite moment her only son was under the whip for thievery to feed her family and her husband drowned in his own sorrow and torment.

Falk left his mother and their home for the sight of her there frozen in misery was too much for his wounded soul to bear. Falk stood and looked up and down the street where he grew up and tried to formulate a plan. He decided that he needed to leave and see how far the phenomenon which had descended was spread. There was much hope in him that the radius of the absence of time would be short, that he would ride to Albury and find a bustling town full of people to whom he could tell his strange tale and absolve some of his guilt at all that had befallen. Falk started to pack some items into a bag for travel, but soon realised the futility of such measures, the finest bread at the bakers was like stone, the finest meats at the butchery were like rocks. Falk heard the bucket from the well strike a hard surface when he lowered it for water. Provisions were going to be a problem. Deciding that he would just have to forage along the way Falk made his way from the village.

Albury was dead. Full of life and yet so macabre., they stood in the alleyways and the streets in a stillness that was the mirror of Alesven. Dogs who had barked their final bark, street traders who'd sold there last ware, buskers whose final note was a silent echo forever. The road there had been similar. Falk had never been as far out of his village as this. He'd often envisioned what it might be like to visit those places that the travellers talked of, he imagined Albury as it might have been just a few hours ago, he imagined the vibrancy and the laughter, the chorus of sounds that were the background music to the lives of the towns folk.

But there was not even a hint of it. Falk went into a tavern and sat on a rickety stool staring out in the the busy street that may as well have been empty and contemplated his next action. Falk thought that if this was what the wish of the statue maker was like then he prayed that he never saw one of his curses, then of course he realised that was the whole point, that was why it was drummed into them from such a young age, to steer clear of that place and His cold dark promises, to him a wish was the same as a curse. Maybe he wasn't really evil at all, to him these might actually be blessings, but then Falk shook that thought from his head, he'd stood in the presence of the statue maker, and of the many things he might and might not be, one thing was certain, he was evil.

Falk thought back to that day. Bereft of options the former sheep herder recalled the price that the statue maker demanded of Falk in return for his 'wish' as he called it.

"Far to the south, father than you have ever been or dreamed there is a city called Everfar. In that place there is someone who I want for you to seek out, she is known as the silver queen, you will know her for she wears about her neck an amulet the colour of fire. When you finally find the courage to accept your gift then you will seek her out, you will take the amulet from her, then you will bring it here to me, you will bring it here to me or by all that I may swear I tell you now boy, I will see you torn limb from limb by fouler beasts than you know, your wishes will turn on you and carry you forever into the darkness of your excruciating death, do you understand me boy?"

At the time Falk had nodded, though his nod was a lie for he made sense of very little that the lord of the western wood had said to him, talk of the western wood not being the western wood and of silver queens, far off cities and amulets of fire, these things meant little to the sheep herder. But he'd nodded along in desperation to escape. It was strange, the memory stood out starkly from the recesses of his mind now but prior to the freezing of time he could not remember dwelling on it at all, it was if the power in the wish had unleashed the memory for him.

There was a part of Falk that was thinking of going directly to the western wood, it thought to confront the statue maker, if indeed he could be found in the timeless landscape of this world. Almost as soon as the thought came it was dismissed, the malevolent nature of the being who'd cursed him was not a thing to be confronted, it was to be feared. Even so only the statue maker could undo what was done, only he held the secrets to what was happening, and there was only one way that he would part with those secrets. Falk looked to the south, the statue maker had demanded the amulet in return for Falks gift of supremacy over time, Falk would find the amulet and deliver it to him, and at the same time he would return this unwanted gift, and hope that in doing so the world might turn once more.
Chapter 7

So Falk set off towards the south and the city of Everfar. As he went he came to realise that his worries regarding provisions were needless, since time had stopped so it seemed had his need to sustain himself through the consumption of food and water, not a morsel nor a drop had passed his lips since the day of the trial and yet he felt no weariness, indeed even without sleep his body did not seem to tire in this place where time meant little.

Onwards from Albury and its silent faces did Falk go, through Blessard and Dowden, through any number of unnamed villages and towns that he did not know existed until the moment he crested a hill and saw them. Many strange sights met Falk as he journeyed. Birds in flight, tongues of fire that consumed nothing and never died. Faces locked in a thousand expressions of pain and joy and exertion and sloth. Falk came to know his countryman as he moved south, he saw their homes, their possessions, the emotions that were painted on them for eternity. Falk saw beasts he could not categorise, the blood, he saw the hunt in all its glory, he saw violence. All of it encapsulated in a single moment.

One of the most interesting sights that he encountered was outside the town of Kellan where it had evidently been snowing at the point when time had frozen. A million snowflakes hung in the air, stopped solid in their lazy descent to the ground. Falk found that if he pushed them then they would move and rebound off others and break into many more pieces creating a domino effect of shattering snowflakes through the air. Falk could not say how long he'd been travelling, many days by his count, for though the rivers he passed had ceased to flow his blood flowed steadily all the while and it seemed to his mind that much of his own time was passing by as he wondered south through the kingdom he never really knew. It was not until he was nearly at his destination that Falk saw one of the more magnificent sights of his travel. For the permanent light which bathed the lad had begun to dim the further south he went, Falk assumed that this was because the sun set earlier down south.

Now as the statue maker said Falk had never heard of this place called Everfar, but down south was where the old fiend indicated it was and so Falk assumed that by steadily marching this way he might come across it soon if it were as important as the statue maker made out. Of king Eldellin Falk had heard, even in the small villages of the north they were aware of their liege, but a Silver Queen, this was new to Falk.

So as he went south things got darker and darker still and Falk continued to assume it was a fallen night that he was walking under, but then a sight met his eyes that proved it not to be so, for framed clearly out in the darkness Falk could see the lightning. This was no nightfall he'd found, but a mighty storm, tall and wide enough to make it fill the skies across the horizon. Falk approached the static lightning in awe. The brightness of it stung his eyes. Some of the forks were fully formed reaching high up into the clouds, others were only just lifting off the ground, they were like brilliant bright thorn bushes. Falk laid his hand upon one fully formed fork, it was cold to the touch, and sharp, surprising so for Falk had thought it would have been smooth.

Without a reasoning why as he passed one particular lighting bush he struck at one of its protruding forks for some minutes until the end of it broke off, he picked up the piece, it was thin and sharp. Falk was wondering into truly unknown territory and thought it would be wise to carry a weapon of some kind, despite not having seen any sign of a threat for weeks.

Reaching the top of a nearby hill Falk looked down and saw the largest congregation of human gathering that he'd ever seen. Had he been a student of such things he would have known that this was in fact the largest in city in all the world. Soaring towers connected by straight and winding bridges, large monuments, temples, parks and grand boulevards. This was the city of Everfar and it was truly the grandest achievement of man that Falk thought possible. A million lights glowed in the city for people had sheltered from the storm in lamp-lit houses. Falk could see the lights reflecting on the sheets of rain around the city.

As he stared at this marvel a sensation came over Falk, so long had it been since he felt such a thing that it took his lonely mind some time to place until eventually he realised that he could hear music. Very faintly, darting in and out of his perception Falk heard mysterious melodies whispered on the absent wind. This was the first sound aside from the ones he made himself that Falk had heard since time was frozen, if there was music in the city, then were there people also? Like him stuck in this timeless bubble of an existence.

Falk decided to find out. At first Falk had felt overwhelmed at the size of the task ahead of him, to have found the city itself was miracle enough, but to find one single abode within a dwelling of this size might have taken him longer than it would take his own despair to win victory over his soul. Now though he had a mission, he would follow the music and hope that at its source he might find some way to locate the house of the silver queen.

Falk struggled down the hillside batting aside the raindrops as he went, where they struck his head they were hard and sharp but fortunately once he was within throwing distance of the city walls they gave him less trouble. The walls were an impressive sight, being a city of such riches it was obvious that whoever ruled here went to great lengths to protect it, they were fifty foot tall from base to top and most likely went far into the ground. At regular intervals there were huge towers with flat roofs on which sat weapons the likes of which Falk had never seen, cylindrical metal tubes which pointed outwards into the countryside.

Stationed regularly along the crenelated battlements were guards as well, despite the storm |Falk could see them staring out with frozen raindrops half dripped from their conical helms. Had time been in in full flow Falk had no doubt that he would have been spotted by now, the alarm raised. After circling for some time Falk found a gateway, to his blessing the gates were open, several figures stood in the entry way, and a wagon too, a hurrying trader who wished to be underway despite the storm, they were all silent, all still without time to help them on their way.

Given the storm the streets were considerably emptier than they would have normally been, even so Falk was surprised at the number of figures he saw loitering in doorways and sheltering under porches. Falk stared in through shuttered tavern windows. The people inside looked happy, some were in mid drink, some were in mid-roll of the dice, others stared into unmoving flames or laughed silently with their friends. Falk soon became lost in the maze of alleys. Albury had been the largest settlement that Falk had seen prior to today, even then most of it was built around one main street, here there were dozens, some were grand walkways others were winding corridors. The initial architecture that Falk encountered on the outer rim of the city was a grey cracked affair, sturdily built but with little character. As he went deeper and deeper into Everfar he encountered grander structures of marble and quartz.

Had it not been for the music then Falks quest would have been hopeless but to his blessing it continued the whole time, the gentle melodic chant summoning him through the streets. As he moved it became obvious where he was being led. A huge residence sat atop one of the cities many small hills. The area around the pillared structure was bare, the sign that this must belong to somebody of considerable influence within the city. As Falk reached the gate at the foot of the hill he saw something else that had been absent from his experiences for some time, as well as the music coming from the house there were lights as well, the flickering firelight of many lanterns could be seen from the dozens of windows in the multi-storey building.

Falk staggered up the winding path to the entry of the house. Caution stayed his immediate desire to rush headlong in. This 'silver queen' was evidently the enemy of the statue maker, so powerful a being as he would not brook weak enemies. Falk could hear the music coming clearly now down the front corridor of the building beyond the white pillars of the entryway, he would see the shadows dancing on the walls.

"Hello" the boy called hesitantly. "Is there anybody there?". No answer came the reply. Falk decided to go in, just as he reached the top step something caught his attention. Buried within the step were stones, around a hand width in diameter, coloured half white and half black, tiny runes could be seen etched into them. Falks eyes followed the line of stones and he saw that they wound their way all along that step and around the sides of the building. They were precisely the same as the stones which were buried along the edge of the western wood, and though he knew not exactly how, they went some way to explaining how it was that time seemed to exist freely in this place when it was absent elsewhere.

Falk looked up at the lintel above the columns of the entry way. There were words carved there, they read 'Halda Sal Quelin'. Had Falk been able to understand the language then he would have read the words as 'The House of the Silver Queen'.

Falk stepped over the final step and beyond the threshold of the dwelling. The moment he did so several things happened all at once. The first was that an enormous pain erupted in his right hand, the hand with which he'd struck the guardsman in Alesven who killed Aldwyn. The second thing was that a fire seemed to erupt under his cloak, in the pocket where he'd stored the lightning knife he got outside the city, this itself also cause a searing pain in Falks side, the third and most inconvenient thing at the time was that someone threw a black bag over his head, after several seconds of vain pain-filled struggling he was struck with something and not for the first time in recent months Falks consciousness gave up and he faded into darkness.
Chapter 8

At first he thought he was drowning when he woke, then he realised after a few disorientating moments that his captures had doused him in water in order to wake him, he still wore the hood, a thick dark material that did not betray its purpose. Falk could smell burning lamp and and heard several sets of shuffling footsteps in the vicinity. Whispers came to Falks ears, a chorus of them babbling, he could make out the odd phrase, 'he wakes' 'he wakes' 'beware the walker'. Then he heard a voice that was most definitely not a whisper, a deep throaty growling voice which made him jump in his shackles on the hard wooden chair to which he was bound.

"Not the brightest thing are you worm, what did you think was going to happen to that lightning when you brought it across the threshold?". Falk remembered the searing pain in his side, the stranger was right, it hadn't occurred to him that the broken shard would come back to life. Falks throat was dry and he could barely croak out a few words. "My hand, you broke my hand" he could still feel the numb pain of the broken bones. This drew a derisory snort from the growling voice.

"WHAT? Do you think we are torturers eh worm, believe me were that our way your body would be a sea of pain right now".

Another voice cut in. It was a womans voice, soft and lilting, an accent that Falk could not place. Its softness concealed a steel, Falk could hear both strength and also a hint of suspicion as it spoke "Your hand was broken ere you entered my house stranger, as my surly friend says to torture is not our way, even with those who deserve it" the implication was not lost on Falk.

"I have never met you before, what possible cause could I have given you to believe that I would be worthy of such methods?" said Falk, slowly beginning to gather his senses. There were a few moments of silent conferring before the hood was pulled from his head.

After a few seconds of light blindness Falk started to focus on his surroundings. It was a round room, low ceilinged and built from incredibly even brickwork. The walls were adorned with a startling array of wicked looking implements, though they might have been surgical there was a part of Falk which tasted fear at their sight, particularly given the talk of torture which had come up in the last couple of minutes. Looking closer though it was obvious that the sharp and pointed instruments on the walls were rusted and old, they'd not seen use for a long long time. Falk looked to those to whom he'd been speaking.

Falk was not sure which of them was more shocking. The figure to his right who was undoubtedly the owner of the growling voice was an immense figure. Up to the waste he resembled a man, though with legs like tree trunks, from his torso however came four arms, two sets where they would have been expected and two more below them. The being did not seem to have a neck, from his shoulders a ball of muscle surrounded a brutish face, humanoid in many aspects but the humanity faded in the wake of the two enormous tusks which pointed out from below his ears. "Take a good look worm" he growled and Falk looked away quickly to the other visible person in the room.

This was a woman of incredible beauty, but Falk was not sure whether or not this beauty was enhanced or blemished by the fact that her skin seemed to be completely silver. The perfect mercury complexion instantly reminded Falk of other silver figures that he'd seen in recent memory. This was not statue however for her skin was alive with liquid beauty, her hair was of a similar hue and her apparel also, which was a regal looking robe of overlapping layers of silver. Falk lowered his eyes for he did not wish to provoke insult.

"How is it that you came to be here?" she asked. Falk looked up at her. This was undoubtedly the Silver Queen of whom the statue maker had spoken, even as he thought it Falk could see a fiery glint at the top of her robe around her neck, the amulet which the lord of the western wood desired so much.

"I walked" said Falk, a little more petulantly then he intended, the four arm beast grabbed the back of the chair and hoisted it up into the air without effort bringing Falk fearfully close to those razor sharp tusks. Falk noted that the being had to stoop considerably to fit into this low room.

"You would do well to show some respect worm, when the lady of this house asks you a question, you answer it in a manner that does not invite me to introduce to you to the end of one of these here tusks" he said menacingly.

"Taalg, be calm" spoke the silver lady. Taalg deposited Falk gruffly to the floor. "I understand you may feel reluctant to speak to me young man, but rest assured you are in a house of power, it is not a cruel power but it is not a power which maintains itself through yielding unwittingly to its enemies, I will ask you questions and you will submit honest answers" as she spoke Falk looked deep into the silver orbs of her eyes and felt suddenly compelled to be as helpful as possible to his captors.

"What is your name?"

"Falk, Falk of Aleseven"

"Falk, Falk of Alesven" she repeated his words, rolling them round searching for some other meaning to them other than a name. Then Falk heard a whispering, the same whispering as before but he could not see the source of it.

"A village of the Northfold, close, oh so close to the realm of the Sordienoth" came the sibilant sound.

"And how is it that you can move through the timeless world that stands around my house?" asked the queen, Falk felt strange and drowsy, his own voice seemed to come from a great distance away. "I am immune from the effects of the wish for it was me who spoke it". Falk shrank back from the looks on Taalgs and the silver ladys faces. Frosty did not do them justice.

"It is as I said my lady, he is an agent of the Sordienoth, lets us put an end to him now". Before the silver lady had a chance to agree Falk cried out, "No, please, I am or rather but was a helpless sheep-herder, I lost a member of my flock and followed it into the western wood, there I was beguiled by a foul being who lives there, he thrust this 'unwanted gift' upon me, I had no idea, I swear it I did not know what would happen when I spoke the wish and did so only in a moment of utter desperation".

"Falk, tell us of what happened and leave out nothing". Falk proceeded to tell his captors of his encounter with the statue maker, the granting of the wish and his subsequent return to find his flock butchered by red wolves. At this Taalg murmured "They were ever his loyal servants" to which the silver lady nodded. Falk continued outlining the downfall of his family, the tainted crops and the thefts which eventually led to his punishment, his fathers death and the speaking of the wish.

There was a silence following the conclusion of his sorry tale until the silver lady finally spoke "There is something you are missing?"

"No" said Falk, "That is the sum of my tale". The silver lady came over and knelt next to him, staring deep into his eyes "He always sets a price for his gifts Falk, the loyalty he expects in return for the curse, what did he ask of you Falk" she said softly but firmly. Falk wanted to tell her, he gazed at the fiery amulet around his neck and yearned to tell her, but he could not, try as he might the words would not come, he just stared helplessly back at her. The silver lady stood and nodded to Taalg, the hood descended and the darkness returned to Falk.

When he awoke this time he was not shackled, indeed he felt comfortable and realised that he lay down on a soft bed. The walls of the room were adorned with many pictures depicting battles and glories from long ago. Aside from the large bed on which he lay the room held a crackling fireplace, a table below the east facing windows which was bare and several comfy looking arm chairs. On one of these chairs the silver lady sat looking at him. The only light came from the fireplace, darkness streamed through the windows, the room was lit by the low orange glow of the fire.

Falks hand felt better and the burning in his side had cooled. "How long have I slept?".

"Three days, if you can really discern between day and night as things stand" she said wryly.

"I'd wager that you did not sleep for some time before coming here". Falk nodded.

"I felt not fatigue, nor hunger nor thirst".

"Well you did not age, as such your body did not require sustenance or rest, that all changed the moment you crossed the threshold into my home". Falk felt the sleep fade away and his mind becoming alert, and curious.

"Did you bewitch me? In the room where you questioned me, I felt far away, as my body, my mind was not my own?".

"You had answers we needed Falk, it was necessary but do not worry, the effects are short-lived, your mind is now your own." She was quiet for several seconds, studying him. It was strange but when she sat so still in the low light her resemblance to the statues of the western wood was even more startling. "Do you remember the question you could not answer?" Falk nodded. "Can you answer it now?". Falk searched his mind, he tried to speak the words again but they would not come, just as before something was blocking him from telling the silver queen that what he sought lay wrapped around her neck at this very moment. Falk shook his head.

The silver queen stood, her many layered robe rustling as she did so, she walked over and lay something next to him on the bed, it was a piece of parchment and a writing implement of some kind. "Try writing it down". Falk took the paper and pen and tried to bring them together to jot down the price that the statue maker had placed upon his wish, but he could not, though he tried with all his strength, until his muscles bulged and sweat stood upon his forehead Falk cold not put pen to paper . He dropped his head in submission. "He has been thorough" came Taalgs voice from the corner of the room, Falk jumped for he'd not even noticed the figure in the room, which seemed ridiculous given Taalgs dimensions. Now he stood at full height Falk saw truly he was a towering giant, Falk estimated that the huge tusked figure must have stood to almost nine feet in height.

"He has indeed" replied the silver lady "Falk, it is obvious that he who granted you this wish has gone to great lengths to ensure that you do not speak of the mission he laid upon you, that you have journeyed here indicates that your mission has pointed you in this direction, I wonder Falk, it appears that you may not tell us of what he requires of you, but are you able to speak of whether or not your task in some way involves me?".

Falk looked up at her, then he nodded, it was painful, and he felt like he was moving his head through cement but slowly he nodded to her, as he so he fell back and felt a great weariness come over him. "Thank you Falk, that looked as if it caused you some difficulty." She looked up at Taalg and then back at Falk. "Falk, I am Evelendra, called the Silver Queen, welcome to my house. You will be safe here for the power of the Sordienoth cannot penetrate these walls, Rannulf will see that you are comfortable and answer any questions you might have". With that she swept her robe around and walked from the room with Taalg following closely.

There was a shimmering in the air near the fireplace and a figure stepped as if from a cloud of invisibility. The figure was a man, plain and ordinary, of no particular background that Falk could discern. He was old but still moved with a sprightly step, after the angry glares of Taalg and the emotionless metallic gaze of the queen this man, who Falk assumed must be Rannulf was a welcome sight with his wispy white hair and quizzical friendly eyes.

"They say all this is your doing, quite a weight to bear eh young man" said Rannulf in a friendly voice, Falk looked downcast at being reminded of the chaos, or rather lack of chaos, that existed outside the walls of the house of the silver queen.

Rannulf pulled up a chair next to the bed and laid a comforting hand on Falks arm. "Do not worry lad, it is his way, to use innocents to cause troubles not of their own making, she knows that, she has seen the good in you and that is why you live, the fault of your fault is not entirely yours. Difficult as it might be you should not dwell upon it lest it consume you".

"Who is he?" Said Falk to which Rannulf responded with a confused look.

"This being, the one they called the Sordienoth, is that the stranger of the western wood?". Rannulf considered Falks words for a moment.

"Yes Falk, he who you know simply as the stranger, the lord of the western wood is the one called the Sordienoth, as for the origins of his name it is more of a title. The Sordienoth were a race of people of whom he is the last, hence we refer to him singularly as, 'the' Sordienoth. Though truth be told he has had many names in many lands, that is simply his calling in this one".

"What happened to them, the Sordienoth?" asked Falk.

"Your curious mind does you merit boy, let us take a look eh". Rannulf reached into the air and plucked a large tome from nothing. Falk gasped, "you're a wizard?". Rannulf gave Falk a bemused look. "I am a librarian, now let us see" he said thumbing through the book, "Ah here we are, S for Sordienoth", the old man read aloud.

"And there were a people called the Sordienoth, and they resided in the realm of Claudian, here did they seek and find great power and privilege for their peoples for they were skilled in the high magic and in their craftsmanship. It was the Sordienoth who built the first of the Claudian skyships, these vessels gave them hegemony over their realm. However the ambitions of the Sordienoth did not end with the Claudian realm and assuch they came to forge their alliance with the realm of Azarak which endured unto the last days of the War of the Nine Gates. Sordienoth engineers are known to have..."

Falk interrupted him, "What was the War of the Nine Gates?" he asked curiously. Rannulf glared at him though his spectacles. "Are you jesting with me Falk" asked the librarian.

"No sir, truly that of which you speak of as history to me is but a mystery". Rannulf lifted the book and put it back in the nothing air from which he'd lifted it down. He sighed and removed his reading glasses. "When they said you were from a backwater village I knew that there might be a few holes in your knowledge, but honestly, was there no schoolhouse in Alesven?".

"Of course there was, just because we're a backwater it doesn't make us idiots".

"And did they teach you nothing of history, of your heritage, of the land you live in?".

"They taught us first that there was a High King called Eldellin who lived in a fancy castle in the clouds somewhere or some nonsense. Then they taught us practicality. Welding, baking, basic arithmetic, sewing, the basic skills that we would need in the lives before us". Falk sighed wistfully, "They taught me nothing of strange beings in the woods though, aside from steering clear of them, and that's one lesson I ignored".

Rannulf leaned another comforting hand on Falks arm. "As I have said boy do not blame yourself, it is his way, to use innocents to further his malign ends".

"But why?" asked Falk "I mean if he is so powerful as to put a halt to time, then why use me to do it, why not stop it himself and then come here and do his work?".

"Oh he can't do that, he can't leave the forest, I'm sure you noticed the barrier when you entered the western wood, much like the one around this house?" Falk nodded. "Well those barriers have many purposes, but the one you saw, that one runs from Ravensholm on the far north coast right the way down to Hawks Point which is but a few leagues from here, he cannot cross that line nor can his power reach out from his own hand, but through others, he is able to defeat the manner of his imprisonment."

Falk looked around sullenly at the room and its furnishings. The drawer on the empty brown desk bore the letters DG embossed on either side of a brass handle. The floor was not carpeted but was covered in enough rugs to make it seem so, the patch work made the floor seem multicoloured. There was a mirror on the western wall, opposite the frosted glass windows. All in all this was a homely place, with all that had happened Falk had paid little attention to the small things in his now strange life, his worn and faded home-town garb lay on the back of a cushioned red chair, he now wore a simple white chemise and troos. Falk looked at Rannulf who sat studying him intently over the top of his reading spectacles. "None of that explains why Rannulf, why me, why any of this, I am truly lost in this moment". Rannulf smiled, a smile of understanding.

"Falk, you have my sympathy. You have, by dint only of your compassion for a wounded animal been drawn into a conflict which stretches back father than you can count. You have become embroiled in a war without end which has claimed lives and souls and all that comes with them. Kings, emperors and wizards are counted in great numbers on the scrolls of the dead. Beasts so foul and numerous that names have not yet been found to define them have done deeds so wicked, that no civilised mind has yet been able to comprehend their reason. Insects and serpents have swarmed and slithered and warred in the shadows of giants who have battled giants and angels. And now into this mix has been thrown a sheep-herder, believe me Falk, within the scope of this conflict the 'why' was lost long ago, now a weariness seems to have come over you again for your eyes do close and open in protest at this wakefulness, take your rest and I will be here when you awaken."
Chapter 9

Falk was not sure why but whenever he opened his eyes he expected to see the sunlight pouring in through the window, this expectation only lasted for a few moments until reality dawned in the dim orange glow of the fireplace. Sometimes he woke to utter darkness. This was becoming more frequently necessary because fuel, like food was becoming more and more scarce. The House of the Silver Queen was a large affair, it had two wells which still held fresh water, but what had been in the stores when time froze was what they had to live on. At first they'd tried sending people out beyond the barrier stones that protected the house but after the first few froze solid within a few feet, they stopped trying to leave their sanctuary, now instead they seemed to be slowly starving in it.

The store rooms below were cavernous but even so it seemed that there were dozens of people within the household and according to Rannulf it had been sixty-three days since the clocks of the outside world had ceased to tick. Falk spent much of his time with the old librarian. Falk learnt of the history of the nine realms and Rannulf was much pleased for Falk was a fast learner. Rannulf also taught Falk to play chess, they would spend many hours in the large library matching strategies against each other. Every now and then Falk would be questioned, sometimes by Taalg, sometimes by other men, strangers that did not introduce themselves, sober men, angry, on the edge of a defeat they could not fathom. They would question him on the 'wish', the exact words he'd spoken, his conversation with the Sordienoth, his time in the western wood and his travels there. Many of them would try and glean from him that of which he could not speak, the price the statue maker had demanded, but true to its course whenever Falk tried to speak of the fiery amulet that the Silver Queen wore, he was rendered speechless, his voice was strangled, his mind became fuzzy and incoherent.

Of the silver lady herself Falk saw little, whether by design or due to her being busy trying to find a way of undoing the magic of the Sordienoth Falk did not know. However, around two weeks after Falk had arrived at the Hall of the Silver Queen he was again summoned into her presence. She sat in a balcony garden the east side of the house. Falk sat opposite her on a white metal framed chair. They looked out in silence over the city until she was ready to speak. "Would this be a final fitting portrait for my fair city do you think?" she mused. Falk looked at the storm shrouded city filled with steady lamplights, the towers, the bridges, the squares and the parks. "It is not yet a tomb my lady, life may return" he said trying to comfort her as best he could. She laughed ruefully, "We are not a people prone to giving up on our hope so quickly young man from the north, but I do sense my grip is fading". Falk did not know what to say.

"There are some truly great minds living within my walls Falk. And we have spent many days digging for the secret that eludes us, how has he done this?" she spoke out into the city, becoming almost unaware that Falk was present "Time manipulation, possible, some have done it before, but it is the scale that defies us, how is it that he has been able to exert influence over all time, yet he cannot break the barrier of the western wood, a power that is comparably less potent than the one it would take to halt time in this way." Taalg stood silently nearby, Falk noted that he wore four swords at his waist, curved with a straight lengthened tip.

"I would like to offer you a choice Falk, you may have noticed that the stew of late is getting thinner, it will not be long until all I have left to feed the people of my household are good intentions." She paused and sipped at the crystal goblet on the table. "We need you to leave Falk, we need you to go and to bring us back supplies. We believe that much as it happened with the lightning that once these things have crossed the threshold that they will move back into time."

Falk mulled the idea over, the silver queen seemed reluctant to ask and he knew why, once beyond the confines of the household he would have no reason to return. But her reluctance was only there because she did not know Falk of Alesven as well as he knew himself.

"Of course my lady" he told her adding "And though some may council against it, I shall return to you swiftly and with a great bounty for all". The silver queen smiled at him, though Falk heard the distinct snort of derision from Taalg. "Thank you dear boy, let us hope that trust is still a commodity of value in these dark days".

Falk left armed with numerous sacks and instructions from both the chefs and the ordinary folk of the household. Many glanced nervously at him as he walked beneath the lintel of the household, he saw Taalg staring intently and sharpening one of his tasks with a whetstone. These people had taken him in and he would not let them down now. As far as Falk was concerned this was a friendless world outside the walls of the hall of the silver queen. For an hour he filled up his first sack, breads, meats, cakes, all manner of things went into the bag.

Falk laboured up the hill with it, he would deliver this first load to them so that they could begin preparing a feast then he would return to the city and continue to gather food. Falk walked across the barrier and the delight on the faces of the people was evident, many nodded and came to him clapping him on the the back. The Silver Queen herself strode to congratulate him.

"Well done Falk, you have a trust, proved to be of some worth after all." Before Falk could reply Taalgs gruff voice came through the throng.

"Speak not too soon my lady, your trust may be worth something, but our 'sumptuous' feast is nought but dust". With that Taalg emptied the food sack out onto the entryway of the house. Grey, decayed and rotten food spilled out onto the polished mosaic floor. "disease and pestilence are the menu this night" growled Taalg.

"But I don't understand" said Falk "This was all fresh and preserved when I filled the sacks".

"It would seem that the effects of time, even that which had passed come into play when crossing the barrier" said Rannulf sadly.

"I can try again, maybe there is something else I can bring." Falk turned to leave the residence but Taalg stood in the doorway, he gave a shake of his head and the silver queen spoke.

"We took a grave risk allowing you out of the confines of the hall Falk, grave in its danger to you and us, while you are here we may yet unlock the secret to this peril, with you gone, by your will or another's, our doom is certain, everybody, return to your rooms" and with that she turned and walked away and Falk was imprisoned again.

Falk retired to his room, the former residence of the unknown DG. But he did not sleep despite his weariness, he lay looking up at the pale blue ceiling and he went over his limited options. Despite their power and wisdom it was becoming increasingly obvious to Falk that the power of the statue maker or the Sordienoth as they called him was beyond them. It was he who brought about their calamity and it was he possessed the means to reverse it. However, even if Falk were to escape the statue maker would not heed him for a second, indeed even with it Falk was uncertain that any influence could be brought to bear. The Sordienoth was evidently an evil of enormous power, the demands of a sheep-herder would make little headway, unless Falk had something to bargain with. But he knew certainly that even if he could override whatever sorcery prevented him from talking of the fire amulet with the queen, she would not give it up to go into the hands of a sworn enemy.

In the main the people of this house had been friendly to Falk and he desired to do well by them, however these last few days there'd been a thought loitering inside of Falks head. That though was of a woman on whose face there rested a single tear, she sat many leagues north in a room lit by a single candle and though she knew it not, she'd lost her husband on this overrunning day. Falk weighed up all of his options and finally decided on a path.

Taalg stood guard at the entryway to the queens garden. "What is it worm?".

"Why does your anger endure Taalg, what wrong have I done you?". Taalgs eyes bulged with anger. "what wrong? Had you but an ounce of strength in you then you would have taken your wish to the grave the moment you left the western wood, you are a weak coward of a boy and you have doomed us all". Falk backed away in fear but the voice of the silver queen came through.

"Had it not been Falk then another would stand in his place Taalg, you know the enemy, Falk is as much a victim of this as we are".

Falk walked out to stand on the balcony next to her. She did not look at him but instead gazed out into the silent storm as she had done for many nights now. "If you don't mind me asking your majesty, there is one thing that I am uncertain of yet, why is it that they call you queen, are you Eldellins wife". She smiled then, a genuine but tired smile.

"It is a long story Falk, and I fear that in the telling of it we may starve to nothing before it is fully told, if the world ever starts to turn then I will tell you the tale of the Silver Queen."

"I am sorry" said Falk simply. She looked at him sympathetically.

"For what?" she asked.

"For this" said Falk. He lunged forward and tackled the silver skinned woman carrying them both over the balcony, down onto the grass below. The last thing that Falk heard was a roar of anger from Taalg which faded quickly. They rolled and rolled in an embrace until coming to a rough finish at a low stone wall at the bottom of the hill. Falk climbed to this feet and look down at her, as he thought it would be the Silver Queen lay frozen, she was beyond the protection of her house and now she endured the endless moment just like all the other mortals currently out there, holding their breath and waiting for the next grain of sand to fall.

It saddened Falk to betray her like this, but in his mind he was resolute for he did what he did for the greater good, had he not broken free then he would have been consigned to starve along with the inhabitants of the silver house, that is if Taalg did not gore him first. This way, with the fire amulet in his possession they at least stood a chance of victory, if Falk could take the jewel and hide it just beyond the range of the western wood then he would re-enter that place, he would attempt to bargain with the devil, for there were no other options available.

Falk reached down to take the amulet from her, though it felt like he was defiling the holy. Falk steeled himself with the thought that this was the only way he might release his mother from her timeless slumber. Falk was in for a shock however, as he hand reached down to clasp the amulet of fire, which he could clearly see around her neck it touched nothing but the silver queens collar bone. Falk took his hand away and looked again to make sure he wasn't sporting some madness, there it was plain to see wrapped around her neck, the boy reached down again but the same thing happened, he could see his fingers pass straight through the amulet.

"You did not think that I would be so foolish as to leave it unprotected did you child" the silver queens voice echoed inside Falks mind, though he saw her body lay there and her lips and mouth did not move. "Your eyes have not left sight of the amulet since the day you arrived. And now you have doomed us all, our trust is worthless and the sorrow of the end of the house of the silver queen will be but an echo of the sorrow of the silent world".

Her words were like poison in Falks mind and he staggered under the weight of them, of them and the stupidity of his plan. Falk reached down once more to pluck the necklace from her neck but again his fingers passed through nothing. Her laughter echoed in his mind then, growing fainter and fainter until it was no more and Falk of Alesven ran screaming in anguish into the silent city of Everfar far away from the house of the silver queen.

Chapter 10

Falk ran for a long time, long enough to reach the edge of the dulled magnificence of Everfar and sit at the cities gate staring back into his despair. How could he have been so foolish. Now he could live forever alone in a silent world, at least failure within the walls of the silver queen would have meant a dignified death surrounded by some friends at the least. Falk sat and looked back along the main road of Everfar leading from the gate, he stared at all the silent statue people. Some of them would be engaged forever in the most mundane tasks like crossing the street or greeting a neighbour.

Even as he looked at them, the ghostly silhouettes framed in the lamplight of the city Falk saw something that he thought impossible. Far off, down the road from the centre of the city Falk saw something moving, moving towards him. A deep cold fear penetrated down to Falks stomach, many strange sights had been his for the seeing this madness of times absence began, but there had been no positives, since meeting the statue maker his life had been a cauldron of worry and pain. Falk had no doubt that whatever it was making its way steadily towards him was no benign force come to rescue him, the world was now damned, and only the damned lived in such places.

Despite this feeling of dread Falk remained rooted to the spot. He remained rooted to the spot right up until the moment he could see the figure bounding towards him with clarity, and then he ran. And as he ran Falks mind raced with images of rending and tearing and the savage intent of the red-wolf which followed him.

It was odd to have run so far so fast and yet not shed a single bead of sweat, nor felt the heavy hand of fatigue dragging at his collar. Once more Falk was under the influence of the effects of the timeless world. His pursuer had become pursuers. Just as one would expect of the red-wolf they did not travel alone in this world, back through the trees when he dared to turn and glimpse Falk could see dozens of flashes of coppery red fur flitting through the trees behind him. They were gaining. The same endless stamina which fueled him outside time doubtless gave swiftness to their foot also. Falk knew from his conversations in the house of the Silver Queen that red-wolves served the statue maker, but he was not about to stop and seek their purpose, it was obvious enough from the salivating and snarling manner of the pursuit that they meant him ill will.

Eventually Falk ran from the scant shelter of the trees into a field of corn. The field could have been the same as a thousand others in the area, except that in the middle of this particular one there stood rearing up into the clouds an enormous bolt of lightning. The field was massive and the wolves were close enough now that Falk could hear the hungry snapping of their jaws. With little other choice Falk ran forward and started to climb the bolt of lightning.

The bolt forked and twisted but was easier to climb than he'd imagined, the edges were not smooth as he expected but rough with many grooves. It formed a giant distended ladder into the sky and Falk climbed it for all his worth. When he got to twenty feet the first of the wolves reached the foot of the lightning bolt. They milled around howling and growling at first. As adaptive and versatile as the wolves were, they were not made for climbing in the fashion. Even so they tried and slowly started to make there way up the lightning bolt.

Falk was far quicker, though his nerves jarred him and he nearly fell several times. Slowly but surely he extended his lead from twenty, to thirty then forty and fifty feet. The snarls of the slow climbing wolves became more and more aggressive as he accelerated away from them. Many of the wolves fell, such was the difficulty of the climb for beasts such as they, but many more did not and as he got higher and higher into the sky Falk suddenly began to wonder at the wisdom of his plan, what would he do when he reached the top?

The sheep-herder from Alesven found out soon enough. Several hundred feet above the ground he reached the low dark storm cloud to which his lightning bolt was attached. Falk reached up and felt the substance of the cloud, it was hard but not the rock solid density that he'd feared, the cloud was more like hard packaging foam. Falk tore a piece of it off and dropped it into the air, then another then another. His efforts were spurred on by the ever closing gap between him and the wolves. They were only about thirty feet behind him now, the chunks of cloud that Falk tore out floated down past them.

In not too long Falk had fashioned a hole into which he could comfortably squeeze. As he did so Falk saw the wolves were but a few metres behind, Falk saw the hunger in the eyes of the lead wolf. Once Falk was sure he was securely lodged in the cloud he began to kick out at the lightning bolt at its thin tip where it was attached to the cloud. The wolves howled as they saw his purpose. Falk kicked and kicked as hard as he possibly could and after many frantic kicks the glass-like bolt snapped at the top, separating it from the cloud. It teetered and swayed and then it fell. The howls faded as the bolt crashed landed across the field and the trees. The lead wolf had been snapping at Falks heels as the bolt moved away, not a moment to soon had he succeeded.

As it fell away from him Falk saw that there were dozens of wolves climbing the bolt itself but hundreds more gathered at its base. As the first bolt fell, Falk saw the tiny figures move away, he looked at the direction they headed and saw their destination. Another bolt of lightning, barely a few hundred metres away forked up into the clouds. Falk started to claw desperately at the cloud above him. Foot by foot he climbed higher through the cloud, it was slow going and disorientating for there was not much light in the storm. Finally he burst through the top of the foamy surface and saw something he hadn't seen for some time, sunlight.

Glorious bright light bathed Falk as he climbed on to the top of the cloud. Above and beyond the storm the sky was clear and pure. Below him the carpet of cloud stretched out into infinity, a myriad of grey and white fluffiness which paved its way to the horizon. Falk was tempted to stay still and bask in the glory of the light, but then he noticed the absence of warmth. These rays of light did not move, they carried no heat with them for they like all other things were frozen in their purpose by the absence of time.

Falks thoughts also turned to the wolves. They were likely to have already started their climb, he could not tarry too long lest the scenic glory became his tomb.

The cloud bank was vast and Falk ran for many miles across it. Occasional breaks in the cloud formed bridges which he crossed and used to look down on the land and gather his bearings. As far as he was aware based on the position of the sun and the few landmarks he spotted that he remembered from his journey south Falk was heading north across the clouds.

After many hours Falk stopped, though he did not require rest or sustenance Falk thought it prudent to sit and try and work out a plan. Most pressing of his list of problems was how on earth he was going to get down out of the cloud. No storms had been occurring on the Northfold when time was frozen, therefore it made sense for him to bear west as he went in order to climb down somewhere in the vicinity of the forest in an area in which there were lightning ladders for him to use. Then of course there were the big questions, how would he negotiate with the statue maker once he entered the forest? It had been made eminently clear to Falk the consequences of returning without the fire amulet.

As Falk sat and pondered these matters his eyes strayed to the cloud formations. To the east of him was another cloud bank that reared far above the one on which he now travelled. As Falk stared he thought that his eyes deceived him, for it seemed within the swirling columns of cloud there was a building. As he looked harder he realised that he was not deceived. There was a building within the clouds, but it was not just a building, this was a castle.

Falk could make out numerous flags sitting atop mighty towers, he could see walls and a mighty gateway and battlements ringing the structure. The walls were white which is why the structure did not appear obvious as it sat surrounded by towering nimbus. The towers were capped with red brick tiles, the flags were blue with a gold hawk emblazoned upon them.

His curiosity overcame him and despite the threat of the wolves Falk decided to explore. The castle itself was situated on a cloud that was separated from all the others by a large gap in which Falk could see the land below. A long wooden drawbridge stretched over the chasm which Falk sped across and into the main courtyard. Many knights in suits of armour were gathered there, the armour was sky blue in colour and had a variety of different crests adorned upon it, one emblem that they all had in common was the golden hawk similar to that of the flags which did not flutter above the towers. There were horses there too, grey horses with fiery yellow eyes, it looked as though this group were preparing to saddle up and ride out when the curse struck.

The main keep was an extraordinary feat of architectural accomplishment. A square outer wall surrounded a large central dome, it was out of this dome that the towers grew, but they did not grow independently but in many places seemed merged with other towers, it gave the impression that the brickwork was a living entity like an enormous tree of stone that grew that way.

Falk went through one of the heavy looking metal studded oak doors and wandered the castle. There were many people inside, courtiers, knights and servants. When back in Alseven they used to talk of King Eldellin living in a castle in the sky Falk had not taken them literally, now he saw it with his own eyes. Recalling some of the history of this world that Rannulf had impressed upon him during his stay in the silver house, Falk knew that he must now be in the 'Claudian Realm' one of the nine realms of Neldorel in which were contained all things. Falk finally arrived at the throne room. Though the garb of the statues inhabiting the hall were resplendent in their finery the hall itself seemed modest, there were hanging drapes and flags and tapestries depicting great events but none of the tasteless vulgarity with which many of the village folk spoke of when describing the abodes of the kingdoms rulership.

Almost reverently Falk approached the throne on which sat King Eldellin. The king was mighty in stature even sitting down. As Falk looked at him he got the sense that the incredible nobility and decency that he'd heard of the king was not an apocryphal tale of a hero worshipping common class but rather a reality. As Falk looked at the piercing blue eyes and trimmed beard and moustache he almost fell over back wards when he heard a voice.

"Why do you disturb my house ghost?". Falk spun around but could see no living moving being within the throne room. "Why do you seek so when I sit directly before thee?". Falk turned and looked at the still form of King Eldellin, leaning on a mighty silver broadsword.

"You can see me my king?".

"I see all those who walk within the boundaries of my lair, both the living and the dead. Now why do you walk unannounced and unobserved within these fair halls?"

"Truly my king, I am sorry, I wonder because I must return to the scene of the great crime I committed, and your house does but lay on a diversion of curiosity along that path".

"And what crime is it that you have committed, that the house of King Eldellin of Claudian is but a sideshow to your atonement?".

There was curiosity and compassion in the voice of the king.

"My lord, this chaos that you and yours endure came about at my hand. I fell under the curse of the Sordienoth and it was the speaking of the accursed wish that he thrust upon me in duress that has stopped time and left you in limbo". Falk confessed all and waited for the outraged judgement of the cloud king, but when Eldellins voice came forth again from the emptiness it was not full of wroth but of sorrow.

"Stopped time, my dear boy, one of us is beguiled, let us see if it be you or I?" as he said that Falk felt a strange warmth envelop his head. It was similar to the feeling he had when the silver queen bewitched him in to speaking the truth back at her house, but this felt heavier, more invasive, for several seconds Falk had the feeling that King Eldellin held the book of his mind in his hands and flicked through the pages absorbing the knowledge of Falks recent history. The feeling dissipated and the king spoke again, his voice heavy with regret. "I am truly sorry Falk, there has been a mighty deception at play here which no mortal should ever have to endure..".

Before the king could finish his explanation there was a tremendous howling in the throne room, the red-wolves came bounding through the door heading straight for Falk. "Dogs of the Sordienoth, nay will my hall suffer your filth" bellowed the king and then to Falks surprise he saw the prone figure of Eldellin shake and stand, from him erupted a cloud of fiery dust as if he'd sat there for many years. The wolves were close and the king swung his broadsword up into a defensive posture with consummate and well practised ease, he moved past Falk to confront the beast, as he did so he laid a hand on Falks shoulder. "Be aware of this boy, you have been deceived as have those in the house of the silver queen, this disruption of time, the freezing of the world is but a harshly conceived illusion designed to.." but he did not finish the sentence for the first of the wolves leapt at him and he smashed it to the side with a gauntleted fist, then the great king waded in amongst them slashing this way and that with his broadsword, Falk did not remain to see the outcome for their were dozens upon dozens of the creatures crowding into the throne room and Falk had no wish to suffer the same fate as his flock or the mighty king who must surely fall here.

Falk ran through the halls of the castle with the dim sounds of battle receding. At one point he found himself in a dead end store-room, he left but not before gathering up a length of rope which he wrapped around himself. Eventually Falk found the exit of the keep, he kept to the shadows and ran across the drawbridge. Falk felt guilty at the fate he left the king to but it made little sense to spread the suffering of such an end to the two of them. Falk ran to the north and west until he finally saw that which he desired. The dark murky cloud covered stain that was the western wood. Given Rannulfs description of the guardian stones running from the north coast to the south coast Falk knew that the 'wood' was far larger than its name implied. Falk walked until he stood directly above the wood.

The words of king Eldellin mystified Falk once more, given the unending nightmare that Falk had been in since time stopped he did not think that possible. The king spoke of illusions and deception, this was nothing new, but without any more specifics Falk was loathe to alter his earlier plan of going into the western wood and trying to confront the statue maker. Falk had done as he was asked, indeed Falks plan for retrieving the fire amulet had gone off without a hitch, barring the last little barrier which was that he could not lay his hands on the object in question. The power of the Sordienoths wish seemed beyond the wisdom and knowledge of the house of the silver queen. The Sordienoth described that which he gave to Falk as a 'wish'. Falk hoped, albeit naively that given his failure to fulfil the side of the bargain placed on him that the Sordienoth might reverse that wish, undo its magic given the debt not paid.

As malevolent as he might be Falk reasoned that the statue maker would not leave the situation as it was, for there was nothing to be gained, Falk had been the hand that the Sordienoth played in his game to retrieve the fire amulet. That had failed not due to a lack of effort on Falks part but because of an ability that the statue maker did not foresee, the ability of the queen to keep the fire amulet free from the effects of the wish, even when it was outside the protection of her house and the surrounding barrier.

Falk could not go back to the house of the silver queen, he could not return to the castle of king Edellin where the king now likely lay dead upon his throne room floor, nor would he resign himself to forever wandering the timeless world with no other souls to share it. Besides which it seemed the Sordienoth had grown impatient enough to send out his wolves into the no-time to deal with Falk, no matter where he went they would find him.

With little other choice Falk broke several holes through the cloud on which he walked and tied the rope from the stores around them. He then lowered himself down the rope until its length was exhausted, fortunately Falk was only a few feet above the nearest tree. Falk jumped to grab the branches of the grey ominous tree of the western wood which was closest to him, he was most surprised when he passed directly through it and he tumbled down through the darkness, Falk screamed a scream which was abruptly cut off as he hit the ground.

For many minutes he lay there groggy and disorientated. Falk climbed to his knees and was suddenly aware of the pain coursing through his body, he was also aware of the steadily falling icy cold rain which ran down his shivering skin.

Nothing made any sense, nor had it done for a long time, Falk was not cut out for the life which destiny had decided to thrust upon him. He staggered through the forest in enormous pain the whole time. Though the western wood as he had seen it from the sky was vast, encompassing many thousands of square miles, Falk was not in the least bit surprised when he started to come across Silver statues dotted here and there in the trees. Falk walked on until he saw the giant, then he turned and without waiting for an invitation walked through the line of guardian trees into the clearing that was home to the statue maker.
Chapter 11

He did not carve this time, the statue maker sat still as one of his creations at the foot of the wooden steps leading up to his stilted house.

"The wanderer has returned, he who is master of time" cackled the fowl being rising with a cruel grin on his face.

"Damn you" cried Falk, wincing with the effort "Damn you for all that you have done to me, to this world, damn you for the lives that will not be led". He laughed then, long and hard in the face of the boy come to confront him. "So naive Falk, even now, even in the wake of the words of the false king you do not understand. Time did not stop Falk, that would be a magic of a scale that no being, even a god could comprehend. But time for you and the inhabitants of the house of the silver queen, that was within the realms of my capabilities. Your father is dead Falk, your mother has cried her tear, the storm over Everfar passed many months ago, it is only you and the coven of the silver queen who have stood still, locked within a single moment".

Falk struggled to comprehend what was being said, but as he dwelt on it sense formed within the chaotic maelstrom that the statue makers words conjured. The world moved on, they did not.

"And now if you please, the fire amulet," the statue maker walked forward.

"I do not have it" said Falk.

"You lie boy, I was most impressed when my hounds told me of your betrayal of the silver queen, when they searched her they could not find the amulet, I know you have it boy, give it to me at once, it is your debt, it is that which is owed for wishes granted"

"You may keep your wish foul fiend, trickster, liar. The queen was beyond your wisdom you lowly being, yes I did betray her, may I pay for it dearly, but truly the fire amulet was not there, whatever magic you cast hers was stronger for the amulet did not exist within my dimension and my thieves hands did pass right through it". The Statue Maker roared at the truth he knew in the words, he backhanded Falk to the floor.

"Enjoy your small victory boy, enjoy its insignificance, she is the only one who ever escaped and one day I will reclaim her and the means by which she left".

As he finished speaking Falk heard a low growling. He turned his wounded body and saw the form of the red wolf bound across the clearing and leapt on top him, all the while the cackling of the Sordienoth echoed in his ears.
Epilogue

Falks whole body felt numb. There was no pain for which he was thankful but there was a deep and unpleasant aching in his limbs. Falk stared out into the gloomy forest. After a few seconds a faint hint of panic set in for Falk found that he could not move, not a muscle. Then he saw the figure of the Sordienoth walk from behind a tree and approach him. The Sordienoth stared at Falk for some time, a smile on his face.

"I was carving this the first day you wondered into my clearing, do you remember?" Falk tried to speak but could not open his mouth nor waggle his tongue within it. The statue maker lifted up a slimy hand and patted Falks cheek in a gentle matter. Then he walked off into the wood out of Falks narrow field of vision. Falk stared out at the statues around him, he stared at the grey trees and the ever pouring rain. A single drop fell and hit his face, it ran down slowly like a single tear on his silver skin.

