Prince of Darkness

by Blake Arthur Peel

  As we begin riding away from the little pond, heading to the west, I give one final forlorn look over my shoulder. Nothing can be seen through the thick tangle of trees. Just as I am about to turn back, however, something catches my ear – a sound like snapping branches coming from somewhere behind us. I pull my horse to a stop and lean forward, listening intently as my heart begins to pound.

  “Seeker?” One of the nearby mages asks. “What is it?”

  I hold up a hand, prompting him to be quiet as another crunching sound comes from somewhere in the trees.

  “There it is again,” I whisper, reaching up to touch my talisman. “Did you hear it?”

  By this time, the rest of the mages have stopped as well. All of them are regarding me curiously from atop their mounts.

  It doesn’t sound like a horse, whatever it is. Could be demons? I think, stomach twisting in knots. Did they overwhelm Owyn on their way to attack us?

  I am about to begin channeling when a figure emerges from the brush, scuffed and limping and covered in leaves and dirt.

  “Owyn!” I cry, leaping from off my horse and rushing over to him.

  He practically stumbles into my arms.

  “Light, Owyn, are you alright? You look terrible!”

  He smiles weakly. “Nice to see you too, Zara.”

  The other mages begin making their way over to us, many of them looking relieved.

  Struggling to his feet, Owyn winces as he puts pressure on his left leg. There is a cut there, but it looks shallow, the blood mostly dried and plastered to his breeches. He bears a few scrapes and bruises, but otherwise looks intact, his bow slung over his shoulder and his quiver half empty. “I’m okay,” he says, trying to act tough. “Honestly. Don’t worry about me.”

  The joy I feel at seeing my new husband is quickly overwhelmed by a bright flash of anger. “Don’t worry about you?” I ask incredulously, punching him hard in the shoulder. “I was worried sick about you!”

  “Ouch,” he grunts. “What was that for?”

  “For being a Light-blasted idiot, Owyn Lund!” I reply, voice on the verge of hysteria. “You can’t just run off for half the day without any backup and expect me to be okay with it! You could have been killed!”

  I can feel hands grabbing my arms from behind, pulling me away from Owyn.

  “Don’t touch me!” I snap, rounding furiously on the mages. “I have every right to be angry!”

  “Perhaps,” Vargus says diplomatically, “we should learn how Ranger Lund sustained these injuries before verbally and physically berating him?”

  Several of the others around us nod their heads.

  Owyn clears his throat and straightens to best of his ability. “It’s as we feared,” he replies wearily. “The R’Laar are after us. I’ve stalled them for a time, but if we don’t hurry, they’ll soon overtake us.”

  This causes everyone to break out into worried muttering.

  My anger begins to subside, displaced by the return of my anxiety. I reach forward to hold Owyn’s hand.

  “I ran into about a dozen hook horrors,” he continues, motioning to his hatchet, which is covered in dark blood. “They were stalking us, waiting for a moment to attack. I manage to fell a couple of them, but then was forced to flee. In the distance, I heard howling. Darkhounds, I think. Dozens of them – hundreds, maybe. We have to get out of here.”

  “Hundreds?” Vargus asks, sounding alarmed.

  Owyn nods gravely.

  “Where is your horse?” I ask, already fearing the answer.

  He grimaces. “That’s how I was able to escape them... hook horrors seem to be stupid beasts. They got distracted by the free meal.”

  The blood drains from my face and I begin to feel ill. Giving Owyn a sympathetic look, I squeeze his hand tightly.

  “The ranger is right,” Vargus declares, making his way back to his horse. “We need to leave this place, make haste for the border of the kingdom.”

  “Will we be able to outrun them?” Kaleigh asks, her eyes wide with fright.

  “I’m not sure,” Owyn replies, limping to the road with my help. “The darkhounds seemed pretty far away, but they’re fast. There’s no telling how many there are, or if any gorgons are with them. I think the best thing we could do is ride quickly and hope they don’t catch up to us.”

  This doesn’t seem to placate Kaleigh, but she doesn’t inquire any further.

  “You can ride with me, you big lummox,” I say softly as the others swiftly get back on their horses. “I’m sorry for hitting you, but you really gave me quite a fright.”

  “It’s alright,” he replies, giving me a wry smile. “You hit like a mage, anyway.”

  I give him a flat look then kiss him on the lips, holding him close for a moment before helping him into the saddle. When he is situated I get up as well, settling in front of him and taking up the reins. He wraps his arms around my waist as we begin making our way west once more, the horses running as if from the Eleven Hells themselves.

  The road winds its way through the Emberwood, taking us over hills and through dense woodlands. We push our horses hard, resting them briefly and infrequently before pushing them again, trying to outrun the phantom demons. I keep stealing glances over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of red eyes in the trees, but I see nothing beyond the leafless trees and brown, tangled bushes.

  By the time evening comes, though, I begin to hear the howls.

  The hair on the back of my neck rises as the familiar blood-curdling calls reach my ears, echoing through the forest like a shrieking chorus of wolves.

  “They’re coming,” Owyn says in my ear. “We need to keep going – we can’t afford to stop now.”

  “It’s getting dark,” I reply, concerned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Not as dangerous as having to fight off the R’Laar,” he answers dryly.

  Unfortunately, I know that he is right.

  I urge my horse onward to keep pace with the others, then pass along the orders that we are to keep riding into the night. My words are met with worried stares but nobody argues.

  The howling darkhounds are more than enough encouragement.

  The sun goes down, shrouding the Emberwood in darkness, but still the demons pursue us. We can hear them in the woods behind us, and though they do not seem to be gaining on us, they also do not relent. Several of the mages cast spells, conjuring flickering balls of magefyre above our heads to light the path. It is not a perfect solution, the blue flames casting long shadows, but it is better than trying to find our way in the dark.

  Hours pass, riders and horses growing increasingly weary, but still we continue on. Even with the magefyre lights, two of the horses stumble and hurt themselves. Their riders are thrown but are not badly hurt, and we are forced to leave the wounded horses behind, the mages doubling up like me and Owyn.

  As we ride away, we can hear the darkhounds gleefully tearing the poor animals apart.

  BY THE TIME THE DAWN arrives, all of us are exhausted, the horses are lathered and breathing heavily. Every part of me feels sore; my back and legs ache painfully and my eyes feel like they are on fire.

  Even so, we can still hear howling in the distance.

  “They’re relentless,” I remark tiredly, glancing over my shoulder at Owyn.

  “Yeah,” he replies grimly. “The creatures never seem to quit.”

  I turn my attention back to the front, guiding my horse around a bend in the road. “We can’t keep this up for much longer. We’ll kill our horses at this pace, and then we’ll really be in trouble.”

  “You think you and the other mages can fight them off without setting half the forest on fire?”

  I consider this for a moment before eventually shaking my head. “I don’t think so. Since all the snow melted, this place has practically become a tinderbox.”

  “Well,” he replies, lifting a hand and pointing ahead of us, “it looks like we’ll be out of the woods soon enough, anyway. When we g
et out into the wastes, we may have no choice but to stand and fight.”

  Looking in the direction he is pointing, I can see that he is right. Down the ridge, maybe a half-hour’s ride away, the trees begin to thin out, revealing a vast expanse of brown, rocky hills rising up from the forest. Seeing them instantly fills me with a slew of conflicting emotions and difficult memories.

  The wastelands.

  Pulling my horse up to some of the other mages, I begin passing word for us to stand our ground once we break free from the trees. My breathless command is met with a mix of determination and skepticism, but fortunately no one argues.

  They understand that a fight is inevitable.

  We continue forward, pushing the horses to near-exhaustion as we make our way to the edge of the forest – the howls continuing close behind until it seems like the demons are right on top of us. Somehow, though, whether by miracle or sheer dumb luck I cannot be sure, we manage to make it to the hills, galloping off the main road and into the wastes themselves.

  Riding up to a ravine cracking the center of a large hill, we finally come to a halt, horses frothing and breathing heavily. The mages appear equally tired, their figures bent and their faces drawn and pale.

  They’ve probably never ridden so hard in their entire lives, I think, easing myself out of the saddle and helping Owyn down as well. These are scholars and teachers, not warriors. Hopefully, they still have the energy to channel.

  The three wastelander youths appear to be in better shape. They quickly ready their weapons and gather themselves around Owyn.

  Above us, there is not a single cloud in sight. The oppressive blanket of stormy clouds that seems to perpetually hang over Tarsynium stops at the border of the kingdom, revealing a scorching sun and an endless blue sky.

  “Mages, get ready!” I declare, pulling out my talisman and turning back to face the Emberwood.

  Groaning and grumbling, the others pull out their talismans as well, walking bow-legged to where Owyn and I stand at the head of the group.

  Owyn pulls out his bow and nocks an arrow, nodding at me approvingly without saying a word.

  You’re in charge here, his eyes seem to say. I’ve got your back.

  Setting my jaw, I start pulling in source energy as the first of the demons begin to emerge from the treeline.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Owyn

  Dozens of darkhounds pour into the wastes from the Emberwood, clawed feet rending the dry ground and red eyes blazing.

  Raising up my bow, I immediately draw and shoot, striking one of the beasts in the neck and causing it to stumble. “Eleven Hells,” I curse, pulling out another arrow and drawing it to my cheek. “I’ve never seen so many darkhounds!”

  Zara mutters some arcane words and lobs a large ball of magefyre at the charging demons, setting a handful of them ablaze. “I know,” she replies, source crystal glowing in her hand. “I didn’t know they travelled in such large groups!”

  More of the creatures flood out of the trees, followed shortly by screeching hook horrors, their scythe-like arms swinging wildly.

  Oily black smoke begins to billow up from the smoldering corpses as blue fire rains down, pummeling the attackers with tremendous force. Darkhounds are killed off left and right, ignited by the mages spells, but still they come, teeth gnashing and throats growling viciously.

  It is only a matter of time before we are completely overrun.

  “We need to pull back,” I say at length, loosing yet another arrow. “They’re going to surround us.”

  Zara glances about and mutters a curse under her breath. “You’re right,” she says, hand still radiating with power. “Perhaps we can find shelter in that gully behind us?”

  “Good enough for me,” I reply, lowering my bow and motioning for Yari and the others to see to the horses.

  They stoicly obey.

  “Pull back!” Zara yells, filling her hand with more magefyre. “We’ll have a better chance of surviving in the ravine!”

  The mages, realizing that fighting off the horde is futile, wordlessly follow us back, skillfully throwing spells as they go.

  As our group begins to back into the gulley, sheer cliff walls on either side of us, the darkhounds and hook horrors descend, climbing relentlessly over their dead in an attempt to kill us all. The horses are left behind, their bodies too large to be taken into the ravine with us. We hurriedly rush past them, leaving most of our saddlebags as we delve into the broken hill.

  As we escape, we can hear the poor animals being ripped to shreds.

  The narrow confines of the ravine force the demons into a bottleneck, which prevents them from flanking us, but it also makes it so most of the mages can’t cast spells. Those in the front, Zara and myself included, bear the brunt of the attack.

  Roaring and snarling furiously, the beasts push inward only to be stopped by radiant missiles and blasts of magefyre.

  Light, this isn’t good, I think, moving with the group as we slowly back deeper into the ravine. We don’t know where this leads out. We could very well become trapped in here.

  What’s worse is the fact that the demons seem to be piling in faster than we can move. They throw their lives away one after another, inching just a little bit closer with every passing second. The deeper we go, the narrower the ravine becomes, the rough walls closing in until eventually they become so close that only one person can pass through at a time.

  “Owyn, I don’t like this,” Zara says wearily, leaning in close.

  Vargus, the bearded magister, lets out a strangled cry. “Now what are we going to do?” He asks, voice on the edge of panic. “We’re trapped in here! We’re all going to die.”

  Mages begin shimmying through the crack, but they are moving far too slowly as the demons advance.

  “We need more time,” one of the mage twins, I think her name is Kaleigh, says in a surprising calm tone. “Sister, stay here.”

  “What are you doing?” Sira asks, eyes wide with fright. She tries to restrain Kaleigh but fails as her sister pushes her way to the front.

  “Stand back, everyone,” she commands, voice echoing in off the stone as she stands before the snarling tangle of demon bodies. “Sira, remember that I’ll always love you. Fàileadh cruaidh a sgrios bhalla seo!”

  Sira lets out an ear-piercing scream as blue light surges from her sister’s fingertips. It shoots forth in a dazzling display of power and strikes the rock, spiderwebbing up the wall and causing the side of the ravine to crack. Heavy chunks of stone break away and tumble down, followed by an avalanche of cascading rock and dirt. It immediately buries Kaleigh and many of the advancing demons, filling up the narrow passageway with a suffocating cloud of dust.

  Everything grows still as the dust settles, filling the narrow chasm with an eerie sense of disquiet.

  Coughing, I pick myself up from off the ground and check on Zara. She is covered in grit but is otherwise unhurt. The other mages, stunned and blinking away the dirt, get to their feet as well, too shocked by the sudden and violent avalanche to speak.

  Kaleigh is nowhere to be seen, the passage completely blocked by an unmovable wall of broken rock. After a long, astonished moment, Sira lets out a racking sob, falling to her knees and weeping openly for her sister.

  On the other side of the newly-fallen obstruction, the demons begin to stir, screeching and clawing beyond the rubble in a vain attempt to get through.

  “We need to move,” Zara says quietly, watching sadly as several of the mages gather around to comfort Sira. “Eventually, they’ll find a way around, then Kaleigh’s sacrifice will be for nothing.”

  I nod, then raise my bow to get everyone’s attention. “We mustn’t tarry,” I say, lifting my voice to carry above the demons and the sound of Sira’s weeping. “Let’s get out of this ravine before the demons find a way to get us. Once we make it to the crystal, we can rest.”

  As if on command, Yari and the other wastelanders begin ushering the mages, gently b
ut firmly moving them toward the narrow crack.

  “You’re not in command here, ranger,” Vargus sneers, face darkening with anger. “We’ve just lost one of the kingdom’s brightest mages. We’re entitled to mourn her passing.”

  I open my mouth to argue with the arrogant man, but Zara lays a hand on my arm, restraining me.

  “Owyn may not have authority over you, Magister, but I do,” Zara replies smoothly. “The High Magus put me, the Seeker, in charge of this expedition. And I intend to see that Magus Kaleigh’s sacrifice is not wasted.”

  Blustering, Vargus sputters a response but Zara ignores him, instead going over to kneel down beside Sira.

  “Your sister saved us all,” she says in a soft tone. “She died a hero.”

  Still sobbing, Sira nods her head.

  Zara wraps an arm around her shoulders and holds her for a moment, then, slowly, helps the poor woman to her feet. “It’s time for us to go,” she whispers. “When all of this is over, I will make sure she is honored properly back at the Conclave.”

  Taking a shuddering breath, Sira wipes her eyes and allows herself to be led away. Then, with the help of Zara, she squeezes through the crack and disappears on the other side.

  One by one, we begin making our way through, including the still-fuming Vargus, who shoots Zara and me a hateful look before going in. On the other side of the rock pile, the demons still roar angrily, clawing at the crumbling debris and vainly attempting to come through.

  Eventually, we all make it to the other side of the narrow gap, finding ourselves in yet another dimly-lit chasm winding through the heart of a large hill. The bone-dry ground seems to have been carved by water, runoff from the infrequent rains of the desert, and after walking through the rock-strewn sand for a time, we finally make it back out into the sunlight.

  The gulley lets out in a wide valley overgrown by the thorny scrub brush we had known so well before. There are no demons to accost us, and a faint breeze comes down from off the hills, carrying with it an arid desert heat.