Next morning thirty odd people, ten horses and one very cantankerous mule assembled outside the Cockerel. Hank hated goodbyes and fully expected to be left alone during the tearful departure that some seemed to thrive on. On that he was due for a surprise. More than one of the rescues turned up to say goodbye.

As much as the whole ordeal frustrated Hank, he couldn’t really say that rushing everyone would improve the outcome of the trip. So he resolved to bring an bear it.

Hank was used to travelling light, limited to only what he could carry, so he had no trouble limiting his baggage to a single pack horse. In fact, his horse was considerably lighter than others. A detail he was careful to hide, Gruffly looked like he wanted to pack an entire mine.

Hank thanked his lucky stars Sabine was coming. She was the only person who could reign Gruffly in. Which did not stop him asking everyone if they couldn’t fit an extra hammer, pick or chisel into their bags. Something he did repeatedly to the annoyance of all. So much so it started to grate on Hank’s nerves.

All in all the morning was one of grating frustrations for Hank so when they finally they got under way, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. A reaction that earned him a wry smile from the ever present but silent Fitz.

As the smile didn’t turn into conversation, Hank rode out, uttering a couple of lines of poetry. Something he recited whenever embarking on a journey, a blessing of sorts. “May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. The rains fall soft upon your fields. May the blessor hold you in the palm of his hand.” Jamie glanced sharply in his direction but refrained from commenting.

Over the next few days the group settled into a daily routine. Ride for a couple of hours. Rest. Ride for another few hours. Rest for lunch. Ride further, rest, ride again, finally stop for the day. In the evening set traps, practice combat and read before the sun goes down. Finish the day with food and conversation around the fire before sleeping in watches.

“Why don’t we ride all the hours the sun’s up? It’s getting closer to winter and the days are getting shorter. We still have a long way to go.” Hank hadn’t really been setting the traveling pace. He wasn’t sure who had. In hind sight it was perhaps a foolish abrogation of responsibility from a group politic point of view. But he really didn’t care about small things. He only raised the issue because he was afraid that the days were progressing and his quest wasn’t.

Sabine answered. “The horses can go further, so could you. But not if you want to travel for more than a day. The horses need time to recover, especially given the way that Gruffly loads them up. This way they will cover forty-five kilometres or so every day for weeks. If there were roads we could travel faster, but not in this scree.” She gestured to the animal track they were following though the scrub.

Despite travelling as quietly as possible most of the local fauna heard them coming well in advance, disappearing before they rode past. This left Hank looking up the flora in Nancy’s book to break the monotony of the journey. Which was really when he wasn’t training with Sabine, arguing with Gruffly or talking with Jamie. He knew things were getting tiresome when he looked forward to pressing one of Gruffly’s numerous buttons. Something, he was man enough to admit was childish attitude. Even if it did seem to entertain everyone else.Still, with little of interest except scrub, boredom was a real issue.

Seventeen days later they finally reached the peninsula between the northern and southern Tigress tributaries. Travelling around the southern tributary had been harder than expected. More entertaining as the creeks and streams they crossed to reach the current location had furnished Hank with different flora and increasing numbers of small animals before finally giving way to the start of the great northern forest. It had been a slow journey so far but Jamie assured everyone that now he knew the way, it would be quicker returning.

“I quite like it here.” Sabine remarked the next morning as Hank joined her looking out over the river. “The turbulent rushing water from the northern tributary merging with the slower broader flow of the southern. The first rays of sunlight catching the top of the waves. What a sight.”

“Yeah that mountain is huge. I’ve seen the Tōsan and that looks bigger.” Jamie commented as he joined them, causing them all to look back at the mountains.

“I was talking about the confluence of the Tigress tributaries.” Sabine remarked.

“Yes the view is stunning.” A stranger startled them, speaking as he walked out of the dense forest. He walked up to Jamie continuing to talk “I’m Tom, and you all need to come with me.”

“Where did you come from?” Jamie was incensed. “I was on watch and I didn’t see you arrive.”

“From the forest.” Tom’s response, delivered dead pan, held no emotion.

“Why do we need to go with you?” Marko’s naturally suspicious question was translated by an equally resistant Sabine.

“I asked nicely.” Tom answered flatly pausing before continuing. “There is a polite reason and a short one.”

“What’s the polite one?” Sabine asked.

“Oh, because the lady I serve has several rules. One being, she meets all who come to the Great Northern Forest.” Tom addressed Sabine

“Well good luck enforcing that.” Hank muttered under his breath. Clearing his throat he continued in a louder voice, “if that’s the long explanation, what’s the short.”

Tom whistled and five archers stepped out of the forest, bows drawn and arrows knocked. “They say so.”

“Ok. They have a point.” Hank grumbled as he recognised the inevitable. Sabine smirked at the pun.

“Well it was definitely a shorter reason.” Jamie remarked to Hank. “Less polite but more gravitas wouldn’t you say, Hank.” He paused as if in contemplation. “Quite well played I thought. You should take tips.”

“Tips?” Hank questioned as everyone commenced packing for the day’s travel

“I think it was the casual introduction. It implied that he was in control the whole time.” Jamie actively smirked at Hank. “You should take pointers. He’s obviously been prepared for leadership.”

Hank pointedly ignored Jamie.

Tom, it transpired, was a reluctant conversationalist. But he was downright loquacious compared to his friends. For almost two days there was meagre conversation apart from the occasional, “stop here” or “let’s move”. That changed when Tom caught Hank reading ‘Plant life of the Great Northern Forests’. Whereupon he ventured his first question. “What do you think of that?”

“What do you mean? I’m studying it.” Hank didn’t look up.

This seemed to humour the naturalist who turned, commenting to his companions, in a language Hank didn’t understand. Who, in response, laughed their heads off.

“Be careful you might learn enough to kill yourself.” Tom sniggered.

“What do you mean?” Hank put the book away.

“Half of that book is rubbish and the other half lies.” Tom replied.

“What is it with Nancy’s books? You’re the second person who has said they’re rubbish. What a crap writer.”n Hank grumbled to himself.

“Hey, watch what you say about Nancy. She’s a living genius.” Tom sharply retorted.

“Living? This book was published almost 120 years ago. She’s long dead.” Hank replied.

“If you say so.” The blond naturalist snorted as he spoke.

“So, if she’s alive, and I’m not saying she is, why are you laughing about her book?” Jamie probed, resuming the dialogue.

“Because she wrote it when she knew nothing. It’s all wrong.” Tom stated.

“And her book on fauna?” Hank asked.

“It’s better but also largely wrong.” Tom replied with a half nod of his head.

“And she still publishes them?” Hank sounded incensed.

“Of course not. We've no use for money out here in the Ronanan.” He paused. “Sorry, we call this forest Ro Naneth An or Ronanan for short. Anyway we only keep money for people like you. We are at one with nature and have no need for your petty rules of ownership.” Tom asserted stridently.

Jamie winced as he muttered under his breath. “Wilderness mother north. Wow that’s bastardising a language but I guess the idea is roughly ‘our mother the wilderness of the north’.” Nobody heard him.

“Well if you’ve no need for us and our petty laws, why are we being dragged off to Big Tree.” Hank continued.

“It’s called Pedgaladhost, well the town is. She, is called Beleg Pedgaladh.” Tom avoided answering.

“Yep they are definitely trying to revive Tolkish. Where did they get their original phrasing from? They haven’t even translated correctly. What an awful effort. Pedgaladhost is what ‘Say tree town’. And Beleg Pedgaladh for ‘great say tree’. Yuck. They should have started with belegorn for, great tree. Or if they are referring to a Singwood tree, the Tolkish word that comes closest would be Huorn . It’s just dreadful how people butcher languages. I would use something closer to Huornost, city of the spirit tree. Which would make great spirit tree something closer to Huornoth. No taste.” Jamie’s face looked like he had bitten a particularly sour lemon.

“She?” Hank asked not hearing Jamie’s mumbled monologue.

“Yes, she. She is the centre of our community.” Tom hadn’t heard Jamie either. Though Fitz’s raised eyebrow suggested, he had heard just fine.

“Still the question remains. Why are we being taken there?” Hank pressed for an answer.

“No, the question is, why have you come to the Great Northern Forest? Why have you entered our land? Are you going to join us or are you heading back south?” Tom attempted to turn the question around.

“Neither, we want to journey up the tributaries of the Tabor.” Hank’s answer just received a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Hank asked.

“You are being serious?” Tom clarified.

“Yes.”

A short couple of sentences in whatever Tom spoke resulted in even more laughing from his companions.

Tom finally reigned in his mirth. “Good luck. That’s the land of the Exi, Arachnid Gigantous, Harrissii and hundreds of other terrors. None survive Ro Naneth An for long.”

Hank’s visage brightened as he was distracted. “I’ve read about those spiders in Nancy’s book. They’re what, about the size of a large dog and live in groups of three or four.”

“Ha ha.” Tom laughed before translating for his friends. There was a further minute or two of general mirth from the armed troop. “No. Their communities grow to fifty or more females. Typically only a single male, about the size of your horse. The females are larger. Fortunately, their territories are correspondingly large or they would wipe us out.” He snorted. “And you want to traipse up the Tabor? We call it Lhingduin, webbed river for a reason.”

“Trying to scare us?” Sabine stepped in.

“No if I was trying to scare you I would talk about the Harrissii. I’ve seen four arachnids retreat from one of those.” Tom turned serious.

“Are they that big?” Jamie asked.

“No. They’re about the size of a large domestic dog. But that's where the similarities end. They are fiercely territorial. Aggressive. Possessive. Faster than anything you have ever seen. Armed with razor-sharp claws and jaws that break bones as thick as your arm. I’ve seen one crush plate armour. They heal ridiculously fast, regrow limbs and are almost invulnerable to poison.”

“Thankfully their diet seems to comprise certain fruits, arachnid eggs and bones. Three of them almost wiped us out before we realised they’re addicted to figs. Almost killed us to chop down a tree, but getting rid of that fig saved both us and Pedgaladhost.” Tom had a far away look on his face.

“Did you say they eat arachnid eggs? Aren’t the eggs small.” Hank asked.

Tom glanced sideways at him. “A fully grown Harrissii doesn’t eat large amounts and the arachnid eggs are about the size of a grapefruit. Two or three is all an adult Harrissii wants. However, female arachnids only lay single eggs. Not enough for a trio to live on so they raid nests to get 10 or 15 at a time. The arachnids always have at least 12 spiders in the nest. So, it’s a big fight. Usually seven or eight of the spiders die in a raid.”

He continued quietly, almost to himself. “I once saw the spiders kill one of the trio during a nest raid. The Harrissii went nuts, killed almost thirty spiders and everything else in a ten kilometre zone before the other two died. It took forever for the wildlife to recover. If you’re planning to kill a Harrissii make sure you get the entire trio.”

“So, they’re the most dangerous the forest has to offer?” Hank asked.

“Nope. Not even close. The Exi hold that title.” Tom translated a comment from one of his troop.

“Exi?” Sabine asked.

Tom looked serious again. “Yeah. We know little about them. They’re about the size of a horse, secretive and very smart. Spiders are the biggest and do the most damage. Harrissii are just plain nuts and will fight anything. Exi, well they’re the most dangerous because they’re smart. We argue about how smart but my money is smarter than a human child. They are tool users and seem to regard anything at all as a tool. They plan and usually it is some poor unsuspecting plant, animal or inanimate object that ends up doing their dirty work.”

“How so?” Jamie asked.

“Well Nancy used to tell this story about the time she saw the Exi wipe out a spider nest. Now Exi breed litters of four or five kits. The kits are helpless when they are young. Anyway, the arachnids started a new nest near the kit’s den. Spiders will kill Exi kits on sight so momma Exi decided something had to be done.” Tom commenced the story with a certain amount of energy.

“We think the plan was to sneak into the arachnid’s nest grab an egg, then bait a Harrissii trio with it. You cannot comprehend the smell a broken egg makes. Like something vomited up rotting meat. It permeates the forest for miles and everything knows a spider egg has died. Anyway, the Exi snuck in, no mean feat for something the size of a horse. Grabbed the egg. Good. Found a Harrissii Treo. Good. Broke the shell. Fine. Started to flee. Unfortunately there was a roaming spider nearby.” Tom shook his head at the shear randomness of the event.

“One on one an Exi might be able to kill a spider. That Exi didn’t even try. It turned back and ran through the trio den. Gave one of the Harisii a swipe on the way past and then headed for the arachnid nest. The trailing spider didn’t know what hit it.” Tom paused reflecting. “Nobody knows if it was the unprovoked attack or the smell of the egg that did it. In any case, the Harrissii went through the arachnid nest in ten minutes flat, killed everything. No nest and suddenly momma had no problems with spiders attacking her kits.”

Hank was impressed. Sabine not so much.

“Another story perhaps.” Tom read his audience. ”Wild lyre pears taste divine, so we harvest them when we can. Occasionally an Exi will lead us to a big batch then watch us pick and peel them. But there is a jungle tax. If we leave one in four on the ground we can move on. If we don’t…” here he paused. “Well Exi are known to move through the camp in the night and take them all, waking no one.” He paused. “I’ve also seen someone try to stop the jungle tax. Didn’t end well. He died of his wounds a week later.”

Sabine looked much more impressed with the Exi’s supposed ability to count.

Tom continued blithely on. “Spiders we hate. Harrissii we avoid and placate. Exi, well they’re the kings and queens of the forest. Something they remind us of whenever we seem to forget.”

“So Exi are also vegetarian?” Jamie asked

“Not sure, we’ve never seen them feeding.” Tom replied.

After this Tom opened up about the flora and fauna of the GNF. Over the next few days Hank made copious notes in the margins of Nancy’s books. Nobody was sure if they should believe all the stories Tom told. But their knowledge of the GNF increased in leaps and bounds. So much so it was almost anticlimactic to reach the Big Tree.