The Curse of Deadman's Forest

by Victoria Laurie

  More thrashing of hedges sounded somewhere nearby and Ian’s nerves almost caused him to drop the dial. “It’s going to break through to us!” Carl hissed as a hedge right next to them shook and nearly fell over on top of them.

  Theo screamed when several branches brushed against her, and Ian grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her out of the way just as a huge paw with giant daggerlike nails swiped at her head. “This way!” he shouted to Carl when he saw that the dial wanted them to change direction yet again.

  Carl was right at Ian’s heels while they ran in short quick bursts, trying to get as far away from the thrashing beast as they could. It seemed the creature was tearing apart the maze all around them, and its constant low, guttural growl reverberated through the hedges.

  Ian held tightly to Theo’s hand as he cut sharply to his right and came out into a long passageway, at the end of which he saw wide-open lawn. He ran the length of the path as fast as he could with Theo in tow, hoping they could yet elude the beast.

  “Sundial!” he called to the bronze relic. “Show us the fastest way to the garden gate!”

  But the dial’s shadow never wavered. It continued to point straight ahead, and it wasn’t until they cleared the maze that he understood. The magical instrument had led them directly where they’d needed to go.

  Behind him the beast continued to thrash and tear about inside the maze. Ian dared not look back, because he knew that at any moment the giant brute would clear the hedges, and he also knew from past experience that he could not outrun the hellhound. “To the gate!” he called to Carl and Theo.

  Ian hoped that if they all reached the gate before the beast cleared the maze, they would trick the beast into thinking they were still hidden within the hedges. And it seemed that luck was on their side, because they did reach the gate before the beast was out of the maze. Ian gave Theo’s hand to Carl while he unhitched the metal latch and went through first to hold the gate open for them. The moment they were through, Ian slammed it, but not before he saw the giant head of the hellhound emerge from the wreckage of the maze. His heart fell to his toes, but he managed at least to secure the latch, knowing that would do little to stop the beast, but at that point all he could hope for was to slow it down a bit.

  “To the portal!” he shouted, and hurried down the path to the patch of woods just ahead. He hardly needed to direct his friends, because Carl zipped past him in two strides, holding tightly to Theo’s wrist as he all but yanked her along.

  Ian followed, looking constantly over his shoulder, and they managed to reach the woods without seeing any sign of the beast. Carl led the way to the familiar path but they had to slow their pace, because the woods were fairly dense and they couldn’t risk tripping and twisting an ankle. “There!” Ian said when he could just make out the huge stones that covered the stairway leading down to the portal. “We’ve made it!”

  But his relief was short lived, as a tremendous crash sounded somewhere behind them and Ian knew that the beast had either torn through or gone straight over the garden’s gate. “Hurry!” screamed Theo, and she dashed down the steps.

  “Do you have the key?” Carl asked when they began to descend the stairs together.

  Ian paused and moved the sundial to his left hand, tucked his torch under his arm, and fished around in his trouser pocket, where he’d shoved the key. His fingers were shaking so badly that when he brought it out, he dropped it. They heard it clink somewhere below them. “Blast it!” Ian yelled.

  “Where is it?” Carl shrieked, his voice high pitched and terrified.

  Ian pointed his torch at the first two steps but couldn’t spot it. “Where is it, where is it, where is it?” he chanted.

  “What’s the matter?” Theo asked from the bottom of the stairwell, by the locked gate.

  “Ian’s dropped the key!” Carl said.

  Behind them a horrible howl erupted from the edge of the wood. “Well, find it!” Theo shouted.

  Ian was now shaking from head to toe. The beast was nearly on top of them and he still had to find the key and unlock the gate. Even if he managed that, he wasn’t sure that the portal was open and ready to allow Theo and Carl through. And what if the beast was able to breach the iron gate? Would it hold against the beast’s brute strength?

  Ian’s mind raced with all these panicky thoughts, which did nothing to aid his efforts to find the key.

  “There!” Carl said at last, grabbing the torch in Ian’s hand and pointing to the fourth step down before dashing below to retrieve it. Ian followed, and they’d made it only a few more steps when they heard the beast tearing through the forest at lightning speed, headed straight for them.

  It was all the boys needed to leap the rest of the way to the gate, which barred their entrance to the tunnel leading to the portal. Ian struggled to hold on to his torch so that Carl could insert the key.

  “Give it to me!” Theo demanded when she saw Carl fumbling clumsily at the lock. In her panic and haste, she wrenched it out of Carl’s hand. Ian’s own fingers reached instinctively to help her but she managed to insert the large key into the lock on the very first try.

  And no sooner had she twisted the clasp open than a tree fell somewhere near the top of the stairs and a horrible growl echoed off the stone walls, alerting them that the beast had arrived. Theo and Carl both worked the lock free from the gate’s metal bars and dropped it onto the ground. Ian reached forward and yanked on the heavy door, pulling it open with a tremendous creak, which was drowned out by a howl so loud and so horrible that Ian had to cover his ears.

  He looked up just as the dim light at the top of the stairwell was all but blocked out, and in the darkness two glowing red eyes stared down at them.

  “Get through and into the tunnel!” Ian shouted to Theo and Carl.

  The next several seconds were a blur. His mind was focused on those murderous eyes at the top of the stairs, and for a long sweaty moment, he was so transfixed that he couldn’t move. In the next instant, however, two things happened at once: Carl yanked him by the collar through the opening of the gate and the beast launched itself down the steps.

  Ian lost his balance when Carl pulled him inside the tunnel, and he tripped over his own two feet, crashing to the ground and feeling the sundial pierce his palm. He let out a yelp of fear and pain and rolled to the side as he heard a loud crash right behind him.

  Theo screamed and Carl shrieked and the beast howled and growled in fury. Ian scrambled to his feet; tucking his injured hand under his other arm, he tried to take in what was happening.

  The beast had hurled itself against the iron gate and was biting at the bars, trying to get to them. Wide-eyed and terrified, Carl and Theo had scrambled away down the tunnel.

  Ian moved back as well when the stench of the awful brute filled the tunnel, causing him to gag. “We’ve got to get you two through the portal!” he shouted, turning to his companions.

  “It’s not open!” Carl replied, twisting around and shining his torch toward the end of the cavern.

  Ian could see he was right. The familiar stone wall holding the grisly remains of a skeleton barred them from any escape.

  “Look out!” Theo cried, and Ian ducked as the beast attempted to swipe at him through the bars. He scooted a little farther away and he was again nearly frozen in terror as the massive creature bit and snarled and swiped at him. It seemed to be doing everything in its power to come through the gate, but the bars held firm. Ian couldn’t be sure how long they would hold, however. He was immensely grateful that the door swung outward. If it had swung in, the beast would have had them. As of yet, the brute hadn’t figured out that by throwing its weight against the door, it was keeping it securely closed, but Ian was well aware of the intelligence of the hateful cur, and he knew they likely had precious little time before things became perilous.

  Turning to Theo, he asked, “Why isn’t the portal open?”

  “I don’t have any idea!” she yelled above the sounds from th
e beast.

  “What are we going to do?” Carl wailed. “Those bars won’t hold it back forever!”

  And even as he said that, the beast caught one of the iron rods in its teeth and pulled. The door creaked open a foot. “Uh-oh,” Ian whispered as the snarling suddenly stopped and the beast stepped back for a moment in surprise, as if already working out how to open the gate and get to its prey.

  With little thought for his own safety, Ian leapt forward and pulled on the bars. He managed to yank the gate shut again and dive out of the way just as the beast lunged toward him. One of its paws did put a mean slice in his upper arm, but it was worth it if it bought them a bit more time.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Carl cried. “Theo, that creature will work out how to open that gate soon enough. You’ve got to open the portal now!”

  “What do you mean I’ve got to open it?” she snapped. “I don’t have the faintest notion how to do that, Carl!”

  “How did you open it last time?” he asked.

  Theo looked at him blankly for a moment, so Ian suggested, “Didn’t you simply ask it to open, Theo?”

  Theo blinked her wild, frightened eyes and she turned to the wall at the end of the passage and said, “Portal, please open!”

  The three of them stared hard at the stone, waiting for the wall to disappear and reveal another world, but nothing happened.

  Behind them the beast continued to snarl and spit and bite at the bars, and suddenly, the door gave another creak and Ian whirled around to see the beast with the gate in its jaws, pulling awkwardly back on it. It was a difficult maneuver for the horrid creature, because it had to grip the gate at an odd angle as it backed itself up the stairs.

  “It’s figured out how to get the gate open!” Carl shouted.

  Ian pulled at the knapsack on Carl’s shoulders, freeing it before he raced forward. Carrying it by the straps, he used it to club the beast through the bars just as the opening became large enough for the beast to wiggle through. The ghastly creature was startled enough by the knapsack striking its nose that it let go and Ian gripped the gate and heaved it closed again.

  But this time the beast was far too quick for him, and it lunged forward, biting his arm. Ian screamed as the vicious fangs broke the skin and clenched straight through to the bone. Carl was by his side in a moment, pummeling the beast on the nose with his torch. “Back!” he shouted, and he struck again and again.

  The beast released Ian’s arm and made to snap at Carl, but the boy was quick and darted out of the way. Grabbing Ian by his good arm, he pulled him away from the gate and farther into the tunnel.

  Ian was in so much pain that he could barely keep track of what was happening around him. His fingers had gone numb and blood dripped down his wrist and covered his hand, and he realized that Theo had rushed to him to inspect his wound. “Oh, Carl!” he heard her wail. “He’s got a vicious bite!”

  Ian was quickly becoming light-headed. As he struggled to stay upright, he heard Carl say, “Do what you can for him, Theo! I’ve got to secure the gate or we’re all finished!”

  Ian’s head felt heavier and heavier and he let his chin fall onto his chest. He was aware that Theo was talking to him, but it was hard to hear over the commotion by the gate. He managed to take a deep breath and turn his head toward Carl. He could see that his friend was holding in one hand the lock that had once secured the iron bars, while he attempted to get the beast’s attention with his other hand.

  Carl was sticking his fingers through the bars and waving them dangerously close to the creature. “Here, stinky!” he yelled. “Come have a chomp on my fingers, won’t you?”

  The beast lunged at Carl’s hand, and Carl managed to loop the lock around the latch with his other hand while snatching back his first. The beast narrowly missed taking off most of Carl’s fingers.

  But the hellhound was far too clever for the ruse. It immediately saw that Carl was attempting to lock the gate, and before he could secure the door, the beast lunged toward Carl’s other hand, causing him to back up and drop the lock.

  “Carl!” Ian shouted, struggling to get to his feet.

  “Ian, sit still!” Theo warned. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding!”

  But Ian was having none of it. He knew that Carl would never be able to distract the beast long enough to secure the gate. “He can’t do it alone,” he said to her, and half stumbled, half ran back down the tunnel.

  “Oy!” Ian shouted when he was within a meter. “You like drawing blood, beasty?” he asked, and for emphasis he shoved his injured arm forward, just out of reach of the brute’s snout. For a moment the mangy cur abandoned Carl and lunged again toward Ian. “Get to the lock!” Ian shouted, keeping his eyes on the beast even though he sensed he was very close to fainting. “I’ll distract it while you secure the gate!”

  Carl didn’t need to be told twice. He dove for the lock, snatching it and rolling away as the beast caught on to their plan and lunged again toward Carl. Ian leaned in and wiped his bloody hand on the bars as a searing pain shot up his arm. “Smell that, you hateful brute?” he shouted, and instantly the beast was back to his side of the gate, the scent of Ian’s blood driving it to froth at the mouth and roll its red eyes up. Spittle and drool flew from its lips as it bit and snarled and licked at the iron bars where Ian had smeared his hand.

  Ian was panting hard and he swayed in front of the beast, his knees weak and the air all about him filled with the cloying, suffocating stench of the hellhound. “Carl,” he tried to yell, but all that came out was a pitiful cry. “I think I’m …” He could say no more. The world about him spun and he had the sensation of sinking into a deep pond, right before he felt something hard slam into his knees and then his side. He wanted to cry out in pain, but he found that he couldn’t utter a sound. The last thing he heard was Theo’s mournful scream.

  CHESS MOVES

  Magus the Black stood in the fading light of dusk, staring down the hill at the lush patch of forest that marked the border between Germany and Poland. Behind him, scattered about the lee side of the hill, was the German Eighth Armored Panzer Division. Eighteen tanks and well over a thousand infantrymen huddled in small groups, most of them bored and hoping for the orders that would finally allow them to invade Poland.

  But at the moment, Magus was less interested in the invasion, and more interested in that cursed forest. His sister lay trapped somewhere in that dense thicket of trees; he could feel the dangerous undertones of her energy from there, and the scout he’d sent in had reported enough to confirm the sorcerer’s suspicions.

  But Magus dared not enter the forest himself, lest he also become trapped. A powerful old crone guarded the wood and held his sister fast. Lachestia’s captor was a dangerous one, someone clearly not to be underestimated. And Magus understood that the only way to kill the crone was to free Lachestia, which made his sister’s release all the more problematic.

  Since the sorcerer could not enter the forest himself, he would need to rely on some other way to pummel and weaken the crone’s defenses. He would need a force strong enough to overwhelm the stone prison where Lachestia had been held captive for over three millennia. And the German Eighth Army Panzer Division was just the firepower he needed.

  All that was left to fulfill this plan was to convince the commander to go through the forest, instead of around it as Berlin had directed. “Magus!” shouted someone behind him.

  The sorcerer narrowed his eyes, smiled evilly, and turned around. “Colonel,” he said cordially, moving toward the ugly little man, noting with satisfaction that the colonel carried the chess set. “Have you received my request for a rematch?”

  Two evenings previously, when Magus had arrived at his new post as strategic advisor to Colonel Gropp, he’d allowed the pompous twit to win a game of chess, and the sorcerer had offered the priceless chess pieces as a prize to the colonel.

  “I have,” said Gropp, his speech clipped and impatient. “But I fully intend to wi
n another game off you. And since I already have the chess set, what will you offer me when you lose?”

  Magus’s eyes smoldered slightly at the petulant tone this insufferable mortal was showing him. A flicker of smoke wafted out his nostrils and he forced himself to resist the urge to kill the colonel. Instead, he reached into the folds of his cloak and brought out a small velvet bag whose contents jingled temptingly.

  The colonel craned his neck forward, showing great interest in the sorcerer’s new prize. “What have you there, Herr Black?” he demanded.

  “Gold, Colonel.” For emphasis, Magus loosened the drawstrings and pulled out one gold bullion, which glinted beautifully in the late-afternoon sun.

  The colonel smiled widely—an unusual expression for him—and accepted the terms. “Ah,” he said smoothly. “I see now how you have gained such favor among the party elite in Berlin!”

  Magus chuckled merrily. Gold bullion had been a factor in many of the influential connections he’d made recently. “I contribute where I can, Colonel.”

  Gropp tipped his hat appreciatively before barking orders at two nearby soldiers, and within moments a table was set for the players, and snifters of brandy were brought over for them to enjoy while they played their match.

  Magus eyed the colonel with amusement as the man laid out his chessboard with efficiency. Such arrogance. Such confidence. Magus would enjoy shattering both. Yet he cautioned himself against winning the game too quickly. He had to secure the colonel’s agreement to his plan first.

  “Silver or gold?” asked the colonel.

  “Gold,” said Magus, knowing that on this chessboard, silver always went first.

  His choice seemed agreeable to the colonel, who was quick to move his pawn.

  They played for a time in silence, Colonel Gropp focusing intently on the game. Magus found that he quite enjoyed toying with the man across from him. He lured him into several false traps and kept the colonel on the defensive.