by Liara Woo
The forest was growing lighter and warmer. The sun was slowly yet steadily gaining height as it continued its daily journey over the sky. Occasionally a shaft of sunlight pierced through the trees, momentarily blinding Katie. She tried to keep her eyes on the ground, focusing on placing her feet the right way.
At once Katie noticed a low thundering noise growing steadily louder. "What's that?" she asked nervously, her breaths coming in short gasps. "It can't be thunder; the sun's out."
Joran looked relieved. "Elk stampede," he responded. "We'll ride with them for a while. Their scent will mask our own."
"Good," Katie panted as they came to a clearing, trying to act like she knew exactly what his plan was even though she really didn't. Ride with elk?
Joran examined the sword hanging at his waist, checking that it was secure. He kept running as the first elk bounded towards them out of the forest. Joran charged it and jumped at the last second, landing on the elk's forehead, sliding down its neck and sitting on its back.
"Come on!" he called as more and more elk raced by. "It's easy!"
Katie shook her head and backed away. There was no way she'd be able to do that. Joran frowned, and in jumping from one elk's back to another he crossed the clearing towards her. At last he jumped to the ground in front of her, his blue-green eyes full of concern.
"I can't do that," Katie said desperately. The barking of the dogs was even louder now.
"Hold on," Joran replied, and when one of the last few elk passed close by, he put both hands on her waist and launched her onto the elk's back. Katie squealed in shock, clinging tightly to the animal's neck. She was nearly shaken loose by the jolting gait, but she managed to wrap her arms around its neck.
She looked back to see if Joran had made it onto another elk's back; he was running as fast as he could with the tail end of the herd. Katie felt a pang of horror go through her, making her blood run cold. If he slowed his pace only a little, he'd be trampled by the five elk behind him. If he strayed too close to the elk in front of him, he'd be kicked to the ground and then trampled. And it's my fault, Katie thought, terrified.
Joran's cloak snagged on something on the ground, and for a split second, he was caught. Barely pausing for an instant he unclasped the cloak from around his neck and kept running…but now the elk behind him were too close. Desperately he increased his speed, going too close to the elk in front of him. Katie gasped and closed her eyes; she didn't want to see what she knew would happen. If only she could do something about it. But she was helpless to save him.
She heard a solid thwack, and she opened her eyes in time to see three elk leap over Joran's unconscious form, one run around him, and the last one step on his shoulder blade. Katie winced and thought about jumping down and going to his side, but then she would get trampled. Besides, if she jumped off, she'd break a leg or arm or some other bone. "I'm sorry!" she called out, her insides twisting with guilt and regret, making her feel sick.
Just as the rest of the elk herd left the clearing, four enormous, drooling dogs with huge white teeth charged out of the trees, dragging park rangers with tranquilizer guns. The last thing Katie saw, her heart hammering, was one of the dogs snapping its jaws around the elf's lower leg and shaking it. Then trees obscured her view.
Katie clung to the elk's neck, feeling horrible. I left him. I just left him to be eaten by dogs! Or… or put into a lab, or something! He thought I was his friend… and I just left him!
At least I'm not alone, but still…
She never said anything to the elk around her. She didn't feel like talking. The remorse in her soul was enough to make her vomit. Perhaps sensing this, the animals never said a word to her, keeping their conversation to themselves as they moved through the forest. The herd travelled at a fluctuating pace, sometimes running, sometimes walking, but never stopping enough for Katie to be able to dismount safely. They traversed the wilderness, through numerous fields and glens, and around a charred area of the forest that had been destroyed in a fire several years earlier. At last, when Katie knew she was too tired to hold on much longer, the elk stopped at a small pond and approached its edge, drinking eagerly. Katie realized how thirsty she was, but she wasn't desperate enough to drink that filthy liquid. She slid to the ground and started walking away.
I have to go back to camp, she realized, her heart heavy. If only those dogs had gotten me instead! The rangers would take me back to camp, and Joran could survive in the wilderness for the rest of his life, however long that is.
But… what about his war? The Darkness? Since he's real, they must be real, too. And if I can help somehow…
Then another thought occurred to her. If they haven't killed him already, I may be able to save him. But I'll need help again.
Her mind was made up. She raised her voice and called for Darktail.
Blacknack
Blacknack's Humiliation
The moment they entered Kratchene, Halthren felt much worse. At first the stench of death and decay merely made him vomit the contents of his stomach onto the ground, but then the thick, oily smoke got into his lungs and he couldn't stop coughing. His throat became raw and sore and his lungs burned. Blacknack and Garrock and the others didn't care, of course; they just snapped the whip at him and laughed.
They stopped to gather supplies every few days at the demon camps scattered throughout Kratchene. None of the supplies went to Halthren, and now, with the light of stars, sun, and moon blocked by the thick clouds of smoke and Darkness, he began to become steadily thinner and weaker. But not weak enough to abandon another escape attempt. I will die in Vernisgard if I can't escape. So I must do so now, while I yet have strength.
At perhaps the third demon camp they stopped at, Halthren was chained in the center of all of the tents to a wooden pole. His arms were wrenched directly above his head and his legs were tightly trussed to the wood with ropes that bit into his flesh. Halthren hung there without a word, waiting, biding his time. If I can goad them enough, maybe they'll decide that they want to see a fight and have me battle someone. Demons love violence. Once my limbs are free, I'll run.
Blacknack was busy bragging to the other demons about his heroic capture. "He didn't even see it coming. He was just walking along, and BAM! I hit 'im in the noggin with one hand and down he went! So then I tied him up and carried him over my back all the way here!"
The demons were nodding along with approval. "That's how it's done," one of them grinned. "They never sees it comin'. They think they're all special, what with their starlight skin and shiny weapons. But all it takes is a single fist to take 'em down."
"Eh, Blacknack," another demon scowled. This one sounded skeptical. Here's my chance, Halthren thought. "Where's 'is bruise? You'd think what with the blow you're talkin' about he'd have a great big purple egg or something or other on the side of his head. I don't see nothin'. Well, I see plenty o' bruises 'n'stuff, but not in the right place."
"You'll be pleased to know, then, that the good Mr. Blacknack here didn't knock me out when he captured me," Halthren cut in. The demons turned their yellow eyes on him. "In fact, it took ten of your kind just to hold me down. He cheated. Everyone knows that it's not a show of strength to take an elf with nine of your friends helping you. Blacknack is a weakling."
There were gasps all around. Blacknack rose to his full height of eight feet. "What did you call me?"
"A weakling," Halthren repeated nonchalantly. Remember Father. Be brave. "A coward, too. Your scales may be black but underneath you're as yellow as a dragon's dwarfish coins."
Someone actually sniggered. Blacknack whirled around. "WHO WAS THAT?!" he bellowed. This only brought more giggles. Halthren bit back a grin; this was surprisingly fun.
"Blacknack needed five Verdecolossal dogs just to bring me here," Halthren revealed. "Maybe more. And he had to wrap me head to toe in thick ropes to stop me from escaping. And he chained me to the wagon. Your friend Blacknack is afraid of elves."
There were r
oars of laughter now. "Afraid of elves!" someone howled.
"I! AM! NOT!" Blacknack roared. Steam was coming out of his nostrils. Suddenly the demons went silent.
"In that case, why don't you prove it?" Halthren invited insultingly, narrowing his eyes. "Let's settle this with a fistfight. Isn't that how you demons solve your arguments? No weapons or anything; just hands and fists. Let's see how brave you are when my hands are free."
Blacknack stormed up to him, breathing hard. "I will pound you. I want to kill you and I would if we didn't need you for interrogation." He hesitated to slice his claws through Halthren's bonds.
"So, you are scared," Halthren mocked.
Blacknack snapped. He roared in fury and ripped through the ropes. Halthren fell but rolled to his feet, rubbing his wrists to get the circulation going again. The pain of blood rushing back into his arms was fierce, but at least he was free.
The watching demons cheered. Halthren grinned; he'd correctly anticipated their bloodlust. Now I just have to incapacitate Blacknack because he deserves it. Then I can run.
Blacknack swung a meaty fist at him. Halthren danced away, faking a yawn. The demon made a low, threatening sound in the back of his throat and threw himself forward. "Die, elf!" he shrieked. But Halthren dodged easily, and Blacknack crashed headfirst into the ground. Roaring and raging, the demon staggered to his feet and charged again. Halthren positioned himself right in front of the pole and stepped aside at the last possible moment. Blacknack smashed into the sturdy wood. His yellow eyes crossed and he went limp, collapsing on the dirt.
The watching demons stared at him for several moments, appalled. Then, when they looked for the elf, they couldn't find him.
Halthren was sprinting as fast as he could towards the north. I did it! I'm free! His feet smacked against the rough rocks, tearing at his soft leather shoes, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to get back to Kylaras, to see stars, sun, and moon once more, and maybe even to go after Joran to make sure he was safe. He tripped and stumbled twice, skinning his palms and knees, but he ignored the pain and raced onwards. At the top of a ledge he looked back, panting, and was disappointed to see that he hadn't gone very far at all.
Then he heard the thunderous barks of the Verdecolossals and saw five of them charging towards him. Upon each sat a demon armed with a spiked mace.
"Not good," Halthren gasped, spinning around and starting to run. But the slope beneath him was much too steep; he lost his balance and fell, rolling all the way down, tearing his clothes and flesh and smacking his head against rocks. Once at the bottom he tried to get up, but his body burned and stung from the fall. Groaning, he struggled to his feet and started to run again, allowing the burn for freedom in his heart to give him strength.
Give heed, Legendheart. Run now, or agony will take you, an unfamiliar voice warned.
Halthren yelped in alarm and spun around. There was no one around him. So where had the voice come from?
The Verdecolossals were steadily gaining on him. RUN, LEGENDHEART! the disembodied voice screamed.
Halthren decided to listen. He forced himself to run again, though it pained him since he'd probably fractured a rib in the fall. His labored breathing sounded in his ears, and soon it was joined by the rough panting of the Verdecolossals. Frightened, Halthren put on an extra burst of speed, but a massive paw clubbed him in the head and he went down in a tangle of arms and legs, rolling to a painful stop. Before he could recover, heavy iron chains were wrapped around his neck, chest, arms, and legs, so thick that he could barely move. He lay still, gasping for breath even though sharp pain throbbed in his chest with every inhalation. Sweat drenched his dusty skin.
He heard footsteps and recognized Garrock's voice. "Get up. That was mighty crafty, what you did to ol' Blacknack. But you have to be punished. So you'll walk all the way to Vernisgard—about ten miles from here—with these chains around you. And you'll be expected to maintain the same speed as everyone else."
Halthren swallowed. Was my escape attempt worth it? He forced himself to stand, leaning on a boulder, but it took tremendous effort. He was swaying where he was and the weight of the iron sapped his remaining strength.
"And you'll start now," Garrock hissed, taking Blacknack's whip from his belt. "NOW!"
The whip snaked down. But the iron protected Halthren from its sting. Struggling, he pulled himself forward, one slow step after another.
"Faster!" Garrock ordered, cracking the whip again. Halthren felt as if he was trying to walk through mud; he tried to go faster and fell to his knees at the top of a small hill, teeth clenched in pain and anger. Laughing, Garrock kicked him and he rolled down the hill without a sound. At the bottom he struggled to his feet before the demon could get to him again.
Once back at the demon camp, Halthren was at least pleased to see a dragon-egg sized bump on Blacknack's head. Then the demon punched him in the face, and an identical bruise began to swell. Halthren momentarily blacked out and awoke to find himself being held up by Garrock. His head swam and he saw doubles of everything.
"Torturing you will be a pleasure," Blacknack growled, baring his teeth.
The rest of the journey to Vernisgard was hard. Halthren's strength quickly waned as he was forced to carry twice his weight in iron for ten miles. It dragged him down so that he couldn't stand up straight; it made every one of his muscles ache from the effort. He was actually relieved when the battalion of demons reached the massive obsidian doors of Vernisgard. The fortress was square and compact. There was no beauty to it; it was akin to an ugly wart on the relatively smooth and rolling surface of Kratchene. The only artwork decorating it were statues of hideous gargoyles. The stone figures stood on either side of the doors and on the inside, they were twisted and convoluted to form brackets for torches. The walls were otherwise smooth and so shiny that Halthren could see his reflection in them. He was horrified by how he looked; his skin was grimy and his eyes were haunting, sunk in their sockets; the skin on his dry lips looked as if it was going to fall off; his long hair was dirty and tangled. He could also see, even wrapped in chains as he was, how much thinner he was…it was as if skin and muscles had given up and were abandoning the fight, leaving him with just his bones. Halthren shuddered at the thought.
Blacknack turned into a narrower passageway and opened a thick iron door at the end leading to a large arena with a solid but dusty stone floor and rows upon rows of empty bleachers behind a tall rock wall. The demon turned back and grinned at Halthren with gnarly rotted teeth. "Now," he sneered, "let the interrogation begin."
Through the Forest
Through the Forest
The next thing Katie remembered was being nuzzled awake by Darktail's whiskery nose. "You fell asleep," he noted. "I think you had a hard day yesterday."
Katie sat up, instantly alert as the memories of the previous day filled her mind. The guilt hit her like a hammer blow—I left him. "The rangers took Joran! I don't know where he went, Darktail! He could die!"
"Calm down," the stallion told her. "I was walking past a human scientist's house and I saw a group of forest rangers outside, speaking with the owner of the house. I didn't see the elf, but I could smell him. He carries an odor of pine sap." Darktail pawed the ground.
Katie stood up and stretched. "Would you take me there?" she asked, shuddering to think of Joran probably being kept in a cage, treated like a wild beast.
Darktail sighed. "It took me four hours to get to you from the house. But I will take you there regardless."
Katie smiled gratefully. "Thank you. Really." Her stomach growled. "Do you know where I can find food or water?"
"Yes," the horse replied. "Come."
Katie grabbed his mane and pulled herself onto his back. She felt wide awake now that she'd had enough sleep. Darktail began a moderate canter through the woods, and soon they arrived in a pretty glade blanketed in small yellow flowers. "Pinch the ends of the flowers, and nectar comes out. It is a small amount…but there are many fl
owers."
Katie dismounted. "Is it safe for humans?"
"I believe so," Darktail replied uncertainly. Katie felt uneasy, but she was hungry. She bent down, picked a flower, and pinched the tip. A small, transparent ball of clear liquid oozed out. She hastily devoured it, surprised at its sweet, efflorescent taste. She picked another flower.
"Remember, the more time we spend here, the more time that elf is in captivity. Don't take too long," Darktail advised.
"Okay," Katie said regretfully.
As soon as she spoke she felt guilty. The flowers tasted good. She wanted to stay in the glade and continue drinking the sweet nectar. She hadn't been thinking about Joran, isolated and suffering from a nasty dog bite on his leg. Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to her—the rangers may have already killed him. Perhaps the scientist was someone who believed it was easier to study a dead subject than a live one. Or maybe the rangers had thought Joran was too dangerous to be kept alive.