Chapter 17: The Tyndale Brothers

Joan asked Aunt Barbara to help pack up the groceries she’d bought and load them onto the sled. She also borrowed some stationery, a quill, and a bottle of ink from her, then wrote a brief note to Mr. Jason Dindall right at the counter of the general store.

Jason Dindall, the current mayor and sheriff of Derling Town, ran a sawmill and had always shown a keen interest in the black oak tree in Joan’s family forest. He had once offered a thousand gold ducats to buy it, but both Old Tyre and Joan had refused to sell.

Now, circumstances had changed. In two months, Joan would be setting out for Leiden Port to study, but she still hadn’t managed to secure the tuition. With Old Tyre's legs failing him, it was becoming impossible for him to take care of such a large forest alone. So, it was decided—the black oak would be sold before Joan left home, to raise part of the tuition.

After finishing the letter, Joan left the store, hauling the sled straight to the end of the street, across a small stone bridge. In the distance, she could see a cluster of workshops by the Derling River. Along the bank stood tall waterwheels, each a dozen feet high, turning ceaselessly under the current’s force, their thunderous rotation powering the riverside lumber mill and driving the massive chainsaw that sliced logs into neat timber.

The Dindall house stood right next to the mill, with a green-painted mailbox out front. Joan approached quietly and slipped the letter into the box before heading home with her sled.

Early the next morning, just as Joan was up and washing, she heard the barking of dogs outside the door. Peering out, she saw two figures approaching. At first, Jamie thought they were strangers and barked defensively, but soon recognized his friends and bounded over, tail wagging in greeting.

“Morning there, Jamie boy!”

A stocky youth waved at Jamie, then crouched to give the half-blood winter wolf an affectionate hug. Behind him was another boy, taller and leaner, who bore a strong family resemblance. Joan recognized them at a glance—they were the mayor’s two sons: the older, stockier Dick Dindall, and the tall, slender Roger Dindall, the only two people in Derling Town she could call friends.

Both brothers were older than Joan. After finishing elementary school, they’d joined the town militia, becoming young guards. Dick was sixteen, broad and strong, skilled with a battle-axe. Roger, fifteen, was quick and agile, and already known as the town’s “sharpshooter.”

Dick was a hearty soul; upon seeing Joan, he swept her up in a bear hug, spinning her around twice before setting her down, chiding, “Why didn’t you come in when you came to my house! We live so close, do you really need to write a letter? Just shout at the door, would you? I really don’t get you!”

Roger, more sensitive and understanding of Joan’s quirks, patted his older brother’s shoulder to quiet him.

“Joan, let’s go chop that tree! If we finish early, we’ll have time to hunt a bit,” Dick said, slinging his axe over his shoulder and bounding off toward the woods behind the house.

Joan and Roger hurried after him. On the way, Roger asked about Leiden Academy—he’d somehow heard the tuition was steep, and quietly suggested, “If you’re short on money, you could borrow from my father. The mayor wouldn’t turn down a promising young wizard.”

Joan was grateful for the offer, but she wasn’t ready to borrow from anyone—not even the mayor. There were still over two months before school started; as long as there was the faintest hope, she’d rather earn her tuition than owe anyone a favor.

The three young people chatted and laughed as they walked, and half an hour later reached the little cabin among the trees. Dick gulped down a big bowl of water inside, wiped his mouth, and then continued on. When he spotted the black oak tree in the distance, a grin spread across his face. He hefted his axe and charged.

Joan happened to notice thick, snake-like roots rising from the thawing ground, and quickly warned Dick to watch his step. But she was too late—the reckless Dick was already tripped by a root, stumbling and falling with a crash. His axe fell from his hand and nearly took off his big toe.

“Joan told you to watch your feet! Dick, do you ever listen? Honestly, let me handle this,” Roger said, exasperated by his brother’s carelessness. He picked up the axe, calmly walked up to the black oak, raised it high, and was just about to strike when an inexplicable drowsiness overcame him. He had to lower the axe and yawn.

“How odd, I suddenly feel so sleepy...” Roger couldn’t resist the overwhelming tide of fatigue. He dropped the axe, muttered, “Let me take a nap first, I’ll chop the tree in a moment,” and promptly sat down beneath the tree, leaned against the trunk, and fell fast asleep, snoring loudly.

“Roger! How can you just fall asleep? And you call me careless? You’re even worse!” Dick laughed heartily.

But Joan couldn’t laugh. The Dindall brothers hadn’t noticed just how strange the forest felt that day, but Joan, ever sensitive, detected the oddities. Dick was reckless, yes, but he wouldn’t just fall over for no reason. Roger was always steady—how could he suddenly doze off on muddy, snowy ground? Joan couldn’t help but suspect that some supernatural force was at work in the woods, doing its best to keep the Dindall brothers from cutting down the black oak.

As she puzzled this over, hurried footsteps sounded behind her, and the barking of Jamie and Conti quickly approached.

Conti had run all the way, breathless and flushed, her pretty face glowing and her brow beaded with sweat. Seeing Dick approaching the black oak with an axe, she quickly shouted, “Stop!”

Dick turned at the sound, gazing at Conti in confusion. “Miss... who are you? I’ve never seen you in town before...”

“She’s Conti, my friend,” Joan explained.

“Well, what do you know! I never thought someone as shy as Joan would have a girlfriend!” Dick burst out laughing.

“It’s not what you think...” Joan tried to protest, but her words fell flat.

“Never mind that—are you really going to cut down this black oak?” Conti glared at Dick, anger written all over her face.

“Yes, but don’t worry, we’re not doing it for free. Joan will get a thousand shiny gold coins from my father for selling this tree,” Dick said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in a money-counting gesture.

“That won’t do!” Conti turned to Joan, her gaze pleading. “Don’t cut it down!”

“Why not?” Dick demanded.

“The black oak is Milla’s symbiotic tree—if it’s cut, Milla will die!” Conti said urgently.

“What are you talking about? Who’s Milla?” Dick scratched his head, bewildered.

“Milla is a little tree spirit,” Joan added carefully. “I’ve never seen her myself, but Conti said she’s spotted her on the black oak.”

“What? A tree spirit?” Dick said with a laugh. “Miss, you’re not trying to fool me, are you? Tree spirits are just fairy tales—only the most childish kids believe they really exist.”

“You’re wrong. Tree spirits aren’t just a story. She’s here, in this very forest, in this very tree. Just because you can’t see her doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist,” Conti retorted, indignant.

Dick scratched his head, looking helplessly at Joan.

Conti’s gaze shifted to Joan, her expression earnest. “I know you’re only selling the tree to raise tuition. But if you have to sell it, why not sell it to me instead?”