CHAPTER 1: WHY BEING LOST IN THE FOREST SUCKS

With all things in life, Duan reflected, there are limits.

At the moment, Duan experienced an entirely new and unusual limit: the outer limit of hunger. He contemplated this new limit as if he were f loating above himself. The feeling in his gut, he observed, had begun as a bothersome gnawing. From there it had progressed to an alarming pang. After several hours of that, it had subsided to the dull ache that now spread to every muscle in his body.

Trudging across the dried pine needles carpeting the forest f loor, he could barely put one foot in front of the other. The warm September sun dappled his face and dyed his hair a golden wheat color. It turned the forest into an enchanted emerald palace. But despite the beauty of his surroundings, he could only think of one thing: potatoes. Warm, steaming, boiled potatoes, covered in butter and salt. If he could have one wish right now, it would be to be buried under a mound of boiled potatoes. Just imagining the smell was enough to make his empty stomach growl.

"Giis, heal, gi?" squawked Check. The baby grinia --- a winged lizard --- perched on Duan's shoulder, cocking his head to one side. Duan knew what Check really had asked: should he perform the Heal magic spell?<<BR>

Since their paths had crossed a few months ago, Duan and Check had become inseparable companions. The baby grinia was about six inches tall and had an emerald green, goldflecked body and delicate, insectlike wings that stayed folded under a carapace on his back until he needed them. Then he would spread them wide, and the transparent wings, twice the span of his small body, would flash in the air and launch him like a hummingbird into f light. He also liked to curl his long tail around Duan's neck or cling to Duan's hair with his threefingered forepaws.

Check had big eyes that were uncommonly expressive and a shock of f luffy golden hair that delighted Duan when it caught the light. It was slightly metallic, as lizard hair was prone to be, and this made it difficult to cut. Duan had to use a pair of heavy garden shears to keep it trimmed, the same scissors he used to clip the grinia's toenails. Check enjoyed being groomed, preening himself afterward, and when Duan scratched his back under his wings, the grinia would let out a soft purring sound.

Check was able to cast some low-level healing spells, and he could mimic the words of human beings, although he knew only a handful as yet. Inquisitive by nature, he had a habit of examining everything that crossed his path. Literally, everything. A bit of string, a fallen leaf, whatever --- the baby grinia just wouldn't be satisfied until he had poked it, prodded it, picked it up, scrutinized it, stuck it in his mouth, or otherwise investigated its every aspect. That was why Duan had named him Check.

Right now, Check checked out Duan. Sensitive to the change in his master's mood, he nuzzled inquiringly against Duan's cheek. His black eyes blinked into Duan's.

"Heal, gii-iss?" Check repeated the question, this time with a slight f lutter of his transparent wings.

Duan waved him away in irritation.

"Forget it," he growled. "I'm not sick or wounded, just starving. Besides, you already cast a Heal spell on me, and casting another won't help. It would leave you as exhausted as I am."

Check flew away and found a tree to perch in. The grinia continued to watch Duan's progress with big, hurt, helpless eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry, Check," Duan said, regretting his gruff tone, "but right now I can't really deal with you being all cute and concerned, okay? We have to conserve our resources. I'm trying to stay focused; I'm in a crappy mood; I haven't eaten in days; and everything . . ."

Duan ran his fingers through his light brown hair, pushing it back from his brow, and paused. He sighed deeply, as he had done countless times before. "Everything has limits," he said irritably and slumped at the foot of the tree.

"Gi!" Check squeaked from a branch overhead. He folded up his wings and fell silent, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible.

They were both tired.

Duan sighed again. Now that he was sitting down, he was afraid he might not have the strength to get up again. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal. The setting sun slanted into his eyes; he blinked worriedly.

Dammit, he thought, I should really do something about this soon. The sun is going down --- that means another night of monsters.

Unfortunately, the need to find food and shelter for the night, which made perfect sense to his rational brain, didn't do anything to motivate the rest of him. His body functioned, but barely, and only thanks to the Heal spell that Check had cast on him a few hours ago. That spell was fading fast, leaving him more drained than ever. If everything has limits, Duan realized with a sudden sickly feeling, then I might just have reached mine.

This was no good.

The sun continued to set.

His stomach growled.

Duan assessed his situation. Here he was, Duan Surk, a little over two months shy of seventeen and only a Level 2, despite the fact that he'd been a card-carrying adventurer for almost a whole year. At five foot seven and one hundred and twenty-six pounds, he could charitably be described as slim, but he was more like skin and bones --- all sharp angles and gangly limbs, hardly the strapping frame of a born adventurer.

His light brown hair had grown raggedly over his ears --- he was in need of a haircut. He had green eyes, although they sometimes appeared gray in a certain light. Not that anyone else had ever observed that interesting fact. Certainly no girl. Duan told himself and others that he didn't have time for a girlfriend, but the truth was more the opposite, or so it seemed to him. For some mysterious reason, girls had never f locked to his side.

His occupation, as listed on his Adventurer's Card, was Fighter. But he hadn't actually done any real fighting yet --- a fact that was painfully obvious from his low level.

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He often reminded himself that leveling up could be a slow business, which was true . . . after you hit Level 6. But, hello, he hadn't even made it to Level 3 yet!

Still a measly Level 2 after a whole year of adventuring, Duan brooded dismally. That's what I call inefficient! Actually, he could think of worse things to call it.

He took inventory of his assets. Worn-out brown clothes with patches on the knees: check. Boots with big holes: check. Stupid short sword he'd been tricked into buying by a dwarf: check. No matter how diligently he sharpened that sword, it just wouldn't hold an edge. It was barely sharp enough to cut an onion, let alone an enemy.

As for family, Duan couldn't remember his parents at all. Whether they had died, or whether they'd abandoned him and his brother, nobody in town could say . . . or, at any rate, nobody would say. Eventually he'd just stopped asking.

His brother, Gaeley Surk, was three years older than Duan. Gaeley was tough-minded, strapping, brave, and, even as a kid, could hold his own in a fight. In short, he was the opposite of Duan in just about every respect.

The brothers had grown up in an area where, if they took a turn down the wrong street or strayed just a little too far off the path near the edge of the forest, they could end up knee-deep in a swarm of monsters. It was a tough life for any child. But then again, there were plenty of kids who lived in similar or even worse circumstances, so it was hardly worth complaining about.

Gaeley never complained. That was for sure. Duan had been a weak and sickly child, and the medicines it took to bring him back to health were expensive. Between those costs and the more routine expenses of food and shelter, life was not easy for the two brothers. But Gaeley had always provided for them. He would do any kind of work: chopping wood, transporting stone, carpentry, assisting at the weapons shops. The kind of manual labor most kids wouldn't want to do, Gaeley welcomed. Of course, the harder the labor, the better it paid --- Gaeley was strong and undaunted by hauling stones across the yard.

Gaeley worked for both of them, keeping a roof over their heads and nourishing food on their plates. Duan remembered it well --- being alone in bed all day, reading books about famous adventurers, and then Gaeley would return from work, covered in stone or wood dust, and drop an armload of food and medicine on the table. He'd give Duan a big smile and ruff le his hair with rough, calloused hands. They didn't talk much, but it was understood: everything was okay.

Everything worth knowing, Duan reflected, I learned from Gaeley.

It was Gaeley who had taught him about limitations. He remembered that day well. It was one of the rare times that Duan was healthy enough to go outside. Duan had been nine at the time. Gaeley, at twelve, was already tall and broadshouldered, and for every one of his long, easy strides, the scrawny Duan was forced to take two in order to keep up. They had been walking along the edge of town, on the way to the market, to line up for rations. It was sunset then, Duan thought, about the same hour it is now.

Gaeley had stopped and stared off into the forest. "Duan," he began in a tone that Duan knew very well. It meant a corny speech was at hand.

Not that Gaeley would have used the word corny to describe his speeches. He thought of them as "philosophical expositions." But just because his speeches could be a little corny sometimes didn't mean they weren't important. Not as far as Duan was concerned.

"Yes, Gaeley?" said Duan.

"You're well enough now, so you'll probably want to play outside a lot more. It's time for you to understand something about the big, wide world. You're a clever boy --- which is all to your credit, really --- but sometimes clever people get themselves into trouble they can't get out of; often, in fact, simply because they are clever. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Duan nodded, holding his breath, but he didn't understand at all.

"There are times, Duan, when cleverness is no substitute for wisdom," Gaeley went on. "Wisdom comes from experience. And experience, much to our misfortune, comes at the expense of making mistakes. Some mistakes are fatal and not worth making. But we must make these mistakes anyway. Well, not those mistakes. Not the fatal ones. Because then we'd be dead, wouldn't we? I mean . . ."

Gaeley sighed and scowled at the dark edge of forest for a moment, composing his thoughts. At last, with an air of gravity, he resumed. "Duan . . . in all things in life, there are limits."

Duan nodded seriously, though he still had no idea where all this was going.

Gaeley indicated the distant line of trees. "You see this forest?"

"Yes," Duan said eagerly.

"You have heard stories about it?"

"I've heard that the children who step into it . . . don't come back."

"Good." Gaeley turned to Duan and put his hands on Duan's shoulders, looking into his eyes.

While it made Duan uncomfortable to be stared at so intently, he wanted desperately to understand what his brother was talking about. It felt important.

"Duan," said Gaeley. His eyes seemed to smolder with the concentrated wisdom he was about to impart.

"Yes, Gaeley?"

"Don't go into the forest."

Then Gaeley patted him on the shoulder and walked on.

Duan, confused, looked to the edge of the forest and back again at his brother. He hurried to catch up. "That's it?"

"Well, yes."

" ‘Don't go into the forest.' "

"Exactly." Gaeley smiled, pleased that Duan had understood so completely.

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Well, that's just 'cause I'm a kid, right? Kids shouldn't go into the forest. But when we're men, when we're older, then we can go on adventures, right? We can go into the forest then."

Gaeley laughed. "When we're men . . ." He eyed Duan fondly. "Well, yes, we can do whatever we want then."

"Good," Duan concluded, satisfied. "When we're men, Gaeley, we can become warriors, and then we can go on lots of adventures together. That will be awesome!"

Gaeley ruffled Duan's hair playfully and then strode

away.

Years passed and Gaeley grew stronger almost by the second. By the time he was seventeen, he had a body of steel that would have shamed most men of twice or even three times his age. Duan was fourteen and in good health, though he remained scrawny.

One night the two brothers sat at home, in front of the fire. Gaeley worked as a blacksmith's assistant and was able to bring firewood home. Duan watched as his brother reached into the fire to turn the logs, barely minding the heat.

Gaeley was in a pensive mood. Finally, he turned to Duan and spoke. "Duan, I am thinking of going to fight."

Their country, Froll, had been at war with the neighboring country, Ponzo, for almost the length of Duan's life. For as long as he could remember, there had been news of battles, victories, defeats, shortages, and bitter winters full of patriotic speeches and scarce rations. Now entering its eleventh year, the war continued with no end in sight. Gaeley, with his strong sense of justice and even stronger sense of duty, had often talked about joining the army and serving his country, but no one had taken him seriously until then.

Duan raised his troubled face to look up at Gaeley. He was surprised to see pain in his brother's eyes. The war was a fact of life; it wasn't ending any time soon, either. It hurt Gaeley to hear this call of duty but not be able to answer it. Still, he had a duty to his brother, too. Normally, when Gaeley wanted to do something, he simply did it and kept it to himself.

But, Duan realized, this was different. Looking into his brother's questioning eyes, Duan realized that Gaeley was actually asking his permission to forsake one duty for another. Duan thought that perhaps he had a duty too: a duty to Gaeley. So he did his best to hide his anxiety and instead gave his brother an encouraging smile.

Seeing his little brother's reaction, Gaeley went back into big-brother mode. He ruffled Duan's hair and smiled back reassuringly. "Actually, to be honest, I kinda wanna test how far my strength will get me in the outside world. Y'know, as a fighter. I reckon I won't be half bad. What do you think?"

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"Gaeley, you'll be a great fighter. I guarantee it!"

Gaeley's smile grew wider. It was a different smile than usual, like a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders. He said quietly, "Hey, if my clever little brother guarantees it, it's a sure thing." As he murmured this, Gaeley clasped Duan's shoulders with both hands.

"Duan . . ." He searched for the right words, but when he said them, all of the bravado dropped from his manner. He spoke sincerely and urgently: "Duan, you aren't that strong; your build is slight. But don't ever let that bother you. You have something the others don't have. You are smarter than them. That is your weapon."

Gaeley looked deeply into his eyes. "Have faith in yourself. And walk with your head held high."

Usually when his brother made these corny speeches, Duan would have to fight to keep a straight face. But this time, it was different. The way Gaeley looked at him was just different. Was he crying? Duan had never seen his brother cry.

He suddenly felt as if his big brother were rushing away from him. As if he might never see him again. Duan couldn't imagine life without Gaeley there to take care of him.

Tears filled his own eyes.

The two brothers embraced, each realizing that the distant future had arrived at last. The day had come for them to go their separate ways.

13

"Duan, giiiis, stomach hurt?"

Duan came back to reality. The sun was still setting. It hung low against the sky, bathing everything in a soft golden glow.

"Giis, Duan --- stomach hurt?" Check looked at him questioningly.

"No, it's not that, Check. I mean, it does hurt, but . . ."

Duan tried to find the words but failed. He sighed, running a weary hand across his face.

Check regarded him worriedly with his round black eyes.

Hello, the sun is setting, Duan's brain shouted at him. The worst monsters come out at night! But again, the urgency his brain sensed had no affect the rest of him. He was too hungry and too weak to care.

Duan began to believe that he would die here like a dog. Even if he looked at it objectively --- in fact, especially if he looked at it objectively --- he was screwed.

Man, he thought. It would suck if I died here. He watched the sun play across the leaves. I have to see Gaeley one more time and show him that I've been doing fine as a fighter.

Doing fine? That was a laugh! Duan knew that he'd been doing anything but fine. He needed to have a proper adventure --- he needed to do something, anything --- to prove himself. How could he face his brother again, after all this time, knowing that he was only a Level 2? Would Gaeley be proud of him? Gaeley, the only person who'd ever believed in him at all?

Not likely.

No, Duan thought, it wouldn't be fair to die like this. It just wouldn't be fair! I haven't even had one proper adventure!

Duan stood up, startling Check, who flew above him in circles, and shouted into the trees: "THIS SUUUUCKS!"

Excerpted from WITCHES' FOREST © Copyright 2011 by Mishio Fukazawa. Reprinted with permission by TOKYOPOP. All rights reserved