King of Crows

The rain made the bread moldy. It made it uncomfortable to sleep at night, and, worst of all, it wouldn't let Tio's leg heal. It opened the wound and the wet wool against it irritated Tio. It made him nauseas and fatigued. Every time he looked down at his swollen thigh he felt like throwing up. He was sure it was infected.

"Blast this rain!" Carl yelled. It had rained nonstop since they had entered the forest. It was steady, and it seemed that no matter where they turned it was aimed at their faces. "Blast this forest! And those bandits, too."

Tio smiled, but it turned into a grimace when he stumbled over a wet stone. "Come on, Carl," he said as he leaned against a tree. "We've been through worse."

The taller man shook his head. "No," he said, "we haven't."

Tio and Carl had always been friends. Neither of them had an easy childhood. Tio's parents were very wealthy, and never seemed to have time for their son. Carl's parents were poor. His father worked two jobs, and his mother worked as a maid at an inn. They both worked most of the day, so they also had no time for their son. But Carl and Tio were always together. Carl often wondered if they had only stayed friends during their childhood because they had no one else, but did it really matter why they were friends now?

Carl and Tio had been merchants ever since they left their homes. They were poor, but Tio had too much pride to let his parents help them when the tax collector came around. They had always had enough money for medicine when one was sick and they could both rent a room in the poorer parts of Cila, the city they lived in.

They had gone to a neighboring town to buy some goods that would sell well back home, but on the way back, bandits had robbed them. Tio and Carl had been sleeping at the time, but Tio woke up to the sound of muffled voices and tried to scare the bandits off. Despite that, they took everything that they had except for the bag Carl was using as a pillow. They had then thrown a dagger at Tio's thigh so he couldn't run after them.

Tio could see the worry in Carl's eyes when he looked at his leg. It burned, and Tio hadn't been able to walk straight since he had been stabbed. But that wasn't all Carl was worried about, that much Tio was sure of. They had no food, and no fresh water. Their stomachs growled throughout the day and Carl was starting to get sick. He was cold, but his forehead was almost as hot as Tio's. Sleeping was a challenge, and Tio couldn't remember when his clothes were last dry. But he knew Carl wasn't worried about the legends… no, only Tio was worried about that.

"We'll go to the physician when we get to Cila," Carl said as he helped Tio sit down. "Going through the forest wasn't a bad idea of mine, was it? We've been walking for two days, so we should be back by tomorrow night. If we went around the forest, it would take us a week to get home!"

Tio nodded, but a frown creased his brow. People didn't avoid the Forest of Whispers because there was no path. They had been walking on a very wide, muddy path and had seen others like it in the forest. The forest was avoided because legends say that lonely spirits wander the paths and follow travelers. They would whisper in their ears until they go mad. That's what Tio had been told, anyway.

After they had rested, Carl helped Tio up and they walked down the path a little longer. Tio's leg hurt too much for them to go very far. Each step made his stomach roll and his leg burned ever hotter. Carl soon found a small shelter between two large trees. Their branches wove together to create a roof and there were large rocks between the trees, acting as walls. There was a small leather bag wedged between two of the rocks. "Ah, so we aren't the only fools who have traveled through here," Tio said with a small scowl when he settled himself under the branches. Tio pulled the bag out and found only a few buttons and a threading needle. He wondered what had happened to the owner of the bag, but Carl was asleep before he could tell him of his concerns. Tio closed his eyes, leaned against the rock behind him and fell asleep.

A voice was whispering in his ear. Carl jumped in surprise, waking up. His ear was warm, as if someone had been leaning close to it and speaking to him. But the rest of him was cold and clammy. What had the voice been saying? He rubbed his ear and looked around. It was still raining and everything was still dark. Even during the day, the large gray clouds let hardly any light into the forest. He could only hear the wind making the leaves above him rustle and the shhhing sound of the rain. "I dreamed it," Carl said. His stomach rumbled and he recalled that people often had strange dreams when they were hungry and exhausted. "But this is the Forest of Whispers…" He shook his head and woke Tio. He was clutching the bag, even in his sleep. Perhaps he believed that it would protect him from the spirits in the forest. Tio put the bag in his pocket and they left the small camp.

In the middle of the day, it stopped raining. They were so surprised by the sudden halt that they stood in the middle of the path for a moment, Tio leaning against Carl.

They went on after a few moments and Carl noticed how sick Tio looked. His face was pale, except for his cheeks, which burned bright red. His eyes were wide and glassy, his breathing was labored and blood was running down his leg. He made a wheezing sound when he breathed and his chest heaved at the effort. "We'll be out of the forest soon, Tio." Carl walked faster and adjusted Tio so that he was carrying most of his weight.

When the sky cleared, the crows came out of their nests. The black birds stared at Carl and Tio, tilting their heads to the side every now and then. They followed the two travelers, hopping from one branch to another. More flew towards them, swooping so close their wings brushed Carl's sleeve. "Get away!" he yelled to one when it pecked at his heel. The birds cawed, and the sound was high and loud making Carl wince. "Off with you!"

"Pay us," he swore he could hear this coming from the mouth of one of the crows. "Pay us or leave. Pay us or give your lives to the forest."

Carl stared at the crow that had spoken, not believing what he was hearing.

"Listen to the king!" another crow cawed.

"Pay us! Pay us!" they chanted. Carl had no doubt now. The crows were speaking to him.

Carl looked at all the crows around them. There were dozens in the trees and even more on the ground. They were on the path, under bushes, on the tops of rocks. Hundreds of black, beady eyes stared at him. "Pay us." The king flapped its wings and hacked as if there was a worm stuck in his throat. The king was larger than any of the other birds. He was cleaner, too, and all his feathers were in place. They gleamed like black diamonds in the dim light. Its beak was long and hooked and it kept snapping it at the flies that buzzed around him. His eyes were as black as the rest of him, but had a red tint to them. It looked as if the bird was glaring at Carl. Carl tried to push through the crows, but when he did they all cawed and flew around him. The world turned into a spinning mass of black feathers. They bit at his heels and fingers and were even attacking Tio.

“Stop!” he yelled, waving his free arm at the bird. The birds settled down when Carl made no move to leave.

“Pay us! Pay us!” they chanted.

"Pay?" Carl asked. "We have no money, and I hardly see how you could make use of coins, anyway."

"No," a new voice said. Her voice was familiar. Carl turned and saw a woman standing among the crows on the path. Her skin was whiter than snow, her hair as dark as the king's wing. She had two large, black holes where her eyes should have been. "They don't want money," she said. Then she smiled and pointed to Tio. "He has my bag."

Carl's heart beat faster and he looked down at Tio. He had seen his friend stuff the bag into his pocket before they left. It was still out of sight. How could she know? It's hidden, and she has no eyes.

She's dead.

Carl looked at her again and knew where he had heard her voice. She had been whispering to him that morning. "Well…" It was an odd feeling, talking to a dead person. He half expected her to disappear at any moment. "My friend is wounded, I have to get him to a doctor soon. So please, tell me what they want and we'll be on our way."

"Your spirit," the woman said. "Your will to live." Carl's eyes widened, and the woman smiled again. It was a sad, eerie smile. "Taking human spirits makes the crows feel more alive. Give them your spirit and you can pass safely."

Carl looked up at the crows, all of them staring at him. Their beaks suddenly looked brighter and sharper and the sky above them seemed darker. "What will happen after I give them my spirit? Will I die?"

"No. But you will wish that they had killed you. You will feel cold and empty for the rest of your life. You will have no longing for life."

Carl nodded, but he wasn't feeling reassured. Tio shuddered and slipped down. Carl's grip on him tightened and he pulled him back up. The boy had fallen into a restless sleep. "And what if I say no?"

"You and your friend will be like me. Nothing but lonely spirits with no bodies. The crows can only take your spirit if you give them permission, but they will make you suffer all the same."

Tio groaned in his sleep. His forehead was hot and he wouldn't stop shaking. Carl laid him on the ground and wiped sweat from the boy's brow. He would die if Carl didn't get him to a doctor soon. He had lost too much blood, and the infection would have started to spread by now. "All right, but leave Tio alone."

The king of crows cawed and flew down to Carl. He landed on his shoulder and flapped his wings so one of them kept hitting Carl's face. He tried to swat the bird away, but the king of crows wouldn't get off.

There was a loud sound, like a piece of paper being torn in two. Carl screamed, feeling something in him prodding at his mind and tearing bits of it out, as if the thing were selecting its favorite dishes at a feast. "Remember Tio…" a woman's voice said and then there was a blinding light and Carl feel to the ground, feeling cold. That was all he felt. He wasn't scared at all, or even curious to know what had happened.

The crows and the woman were gone now. He was sore, but he didn't care. What did it matter, anyway? Tio was lying by his feet, tossing and turning. He was sick and wounded. He would be dead soon, but Carl didn't care about that, either. The purpose for living was gone now. It was the fire that had always been in him, fueling him onward. It had been snuffed out and everything felt dark and cold without that fire. He heard the woman's voice in his head again, telling him to remember Tio. "Yes… he's why I'm here." His voice was different, too. It was apathetic and bored. The confidence was gone from his voice. "But why should I help him? Would he give away his spirit for me?"

Carl knew Tio would. They had been best friends for years. Tio hadn't complained when Carl convinced him to go through the forest, and he didn't say anything about his fever, knowing it would only worry Carl more. Even now, Carl knew he had to help Tio. He picked him up and slung one of his arms over his shoulders and walked down the path.