A Dark Tyranny

by C. M. Pendleton

  I will die tonight.

  He saw Cal swinging his axe in a bloodied frenzy. Cal was not a warrior, but he was no stranger to the axe. His blows were strong. The blade did not lodge in bone, each swing ate through the wolf leaving a trail of blood, meat, and chips of bone in its wake. Ellison stood.

  I have to get to the wagon.

  The old nag in front of the wagon shook nervously. It pulled at the reins and chewed at its bit. Ellison could hear the children crying. He ran to the wagon. The harnesses seemed in place. There was no time to check. He jumped to the seat of the wagon.

  “It's all right. We're getting out of here. Stay down,” he told the children.

  Ellison slapped down hard on the reins. The horse yelled out. The wagon jerked forward faster than Ellison had expected. The horse was panicked. It ran. The wood moaned as the wheels began to move. Ellison slapped the reins down again. The horse jumped and the wagon began to pick up speed. Bodies littered the grounds. The wheels rolled over flesh and rock causing the wagon to bounce. Wolves ran by the wagon, as they ravaged the fleeing villagers. Some villagers grabbed onto the wagon screaming, but were ripped away while others lacked the strength to hold on. Ellison could still see Cal. He swung his axe wildly. Cal saw that Ellison was in the wagon. The brief moment their eyes locked was all it took. A wolf charged at Cal. It was in the air before he was able to face it. Cal fell to the ground. Ellison lost sight of him. The wagon kept moving.

  Ellison charged the wagon towards the village. The chaos behind him was spreading out past the dying caravan. He heard panting and growls but did not look around him. He was focused on the castle. The horse breathed heavily. It was too old.

  Stay alive … don't die yet.

  The wagon rocked to one side. A wolf slammed into it but the wagon kept moving. The horse yelled out in fear. The children huddled together in the back crying.

  “We are close now. Hold onto to something. Keep low!” Ellison instructed them.

  Ellison slapped the reins but it did no good. The horse was already galloping as fast as it could. It had a deep guttural rasp to its breathing. Ellison could see the village.

  Not long now … stay with me.

  The wagon made it to the main road. The wheels rolled smoother now. Three wolves had caught up to the wagon. A fourth wolf ran alongside it. It leapt and grasped onto the wagon. The wagon leaned on two wheels and was about the flip. The beast snarled and dug its claws into the wood. It started to pull its back legs onto the wagon. The children screamed. Ellison swung his dagger at the wolf. The blade opened a gash on one side of its mouth. The beast cried out. It bit at Ellison's arm, as it fell to the ground. The wagon bounced, as it pommeled over the fallen wolf. Ellison looked at his arm. It was bleeding. Its teeth must have grazed it. It was bleeding but Ellison didn't have time to do anything about it. He slapped down hard on the reins.

  They were in the village. The wagon barreled through the street. It was moving too fast. Each turn caused the wagon to slam into the wall or a storefront. The wolves ran just as fast. Ellison turned the wagon down an alley. It raked across a stone wall. Wood cracked and splintered as the wagon turned. One wolf tripped and rolled, while another ran on top of it to make the turn. The third did the same.

  “Open the gates!” yelled Ellison.

  The gates to Castle Horos were to the right of the alley. Once they made the turn, the gates would be visible. Ellison had no idea if anyone was manning them.

  “Open the gates! I have children!” Ellison screamed.

  There was a stone wall at the end of the alley. The road turned right or left. Ellison did not slow the horse down. He doubted he could anyway.

  “Hold on!” he yelled.

  Ellison pulled right on the reins as hard as he could. The horse slid to the right losing balance. The wagon moved sideways; it hit the wall hard in the turn. The lead shafts of the wagon cracked. One of them broke and drug along the ground beside the horse. The horse jumped and kicked as it ran. The spokes of the wheels that hit the wall splintered. One wheel was almost cracked in half.

  This won't last much longer.

  The gates were just ahead. Ellison could see three torches behind the gate.

  “I have children! Open the gate!”

  “What's out there?” yelled a voice from behind the gate.

  “Open the bloody gates!” ordered Ellison.

  The wolves turned the corner. One jumped up and pushed off the stone wall.

  The horse tried to stop at the gates but it couldn't. It tripped over the broken shaft and fell to the ground. The other shaft snapped and dug into its hind quarter. The wagon slid to one side. It stopped with a jolt against the stone walls and the gate. Ellison flew forward, hitting his head on the rail guard of the wagon. Blood began to pour from a cut over his left eye. The world seemed to spin around him.

  “I have children. Please let them in. I am … I am the king's brother. Let them in,” muttered Ellison.

  “It's the king's brother,” said a soldier behind the gate.

  “Quickly, crack the gate. Let in the children,” said a voice behind the three soldiers.

  “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  The soldiers cracked the gate open. The children climbed over the wagon. One of the soldiers hurried them through the gate.

  “This one is too hurt to move,” a soldier pointed at Ellison.

  “Hurry and bring the children to the castle. Go! Tell the king that I will try to save his brother.”

  “Yes, Malvern,” said a soldier.

  The soldiers moved the children away from the gate towards the castle.

  The wolves were close. They slowed growling at the wagon. Their prey was cornered and they knew it.

  “Malvern,” Ellison muttered. There was a ringing in his ears; he was still spinning from the crash.

  “Seems you find yourself on the outside.”

  “Help me,” whispered Ellison.

  “Come. Hurry,” ordered Malvern.

  Ellison slowly stood moving to the gate. He wiped the blood from his eyes. His legs shook under his weight. His arm felt as if it were on fire.

  “Hurry now,” said Malvern.

  Ellison leaned against the gate.

  “Open it,” whispered Ellison.

  Malvern leaned forward. Ellison felt a sharp pain just above his stomach. It burned deeply. He looked down. A dagger jutted from his body. He looked at it and then at Malvern.

  “Why in all the four realms do you think I would help you? You made your choice … now die in it,” hissed Malvern.

  Malvern scurried off towards the castle. Ellison tried to move but he couldn't. He leaned against a stone wall by the gate. His legs gave and he slid down. He sat on the ground with his back to the wall. He looked at the dagger, the wagon, and the slowly dying horse in front of him.

  Where would I go anyway?

  He heard heavy breathing and the stench of blood. The snarling of a wolf drew close. Ellison closed his eyes.

  I will not fight this.

  The wolf growled as it approached. Its hair stood. Its red eyes gleamed at Ellison. Saliva mixed with blood; it dripped from its mouth. Its massive frame looked down at Ellison. It lunged at him with its razor teeth. However, it stopped and stared at him. Ellison could feel saliva dripping onto his face and neck. He could smell the putrid breath of the beast. It roared at him and then howled up to the night sky. It turned and ran. The others followed.

  Ellison opened his eyes. He was alone. Blood pooled around him and mixed with the rain. His breathing was shallow. He wanted to pull the dagger from his stomach but was too weak. He felt the blade with each breath. It hurt. However, his arm began to feel strangely warm. The burning in it had stopped. There was just a warmth that seemed to radiate up his arm to his shoulder and neck. The feeling continued. Ellison did not work so hard to breathe.

  What is happening?

  Chapter 23

  Let One Live to Kill Them All

  Finn felt be
tter to be moving again. He walked fast and, at times, ran. He had lost two days in his search for the gorgon caravan. He stayed close to the road but out of sight. There had been no other travelers, just a corpse with two arrows sticking from its chest. Birds and rodents had already had their way with it. Gorgons and Skin Slavers were no longer the only threat. Thieves and bandits thrived in times of chaos. Imeldris had witnessed this firsthand.

  Finn's new clothes made him feel less of a prisoner. He now had a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a small sword at his hip.

  I'm no longer escaping. I am now tracking them.

  He had a satchel on his back that had supplies, such as a blanket, flint and steel to start a fire, a water skin, and a few days’ worth of food. It was not too heavy. Finn was still light enough to travel fast. The falcon did not venture far from Finn's sight. It would occasionally disappear into the clouds, but Finn knew it was keeping a watchful eye on him. It gave Finn a sense of comfort and safety.

  Finn traveled for three more days without seeing anyone. He tried his best to conserve his supplies. He ate salted meat and drank cider. The wineskin still had spiced ale in it from beforehand. The cider had a slight bitterness to it and an aftertaste of cinnamon and sugar. Finn managed to kill a forest hare. He only used one arrow, which didn't break or chip. He liked the feeling of being able to return the arrow to the quiver. Finn knew that once the arrows were gone, he might not be able to obtain any more – or at least arrows that were well crafted. He cooked the hare over a spit and gave what he did not eat to the falcon. The great beast had taken to perching close to his camp at night. Finn would wake each morning to the sound of beating wings and wind bellowing down against him, as the great bird ascended to the sky again. It had also begun to lessen the distance it flew during the day. It was keeping a closer watch on him.

  Are we getting closer to danger? Are we catching up with them?

  The sun was out on the fourth day. The sky was mostly clear allowing the heat to blanket the earth. Finn had woken early. He was moving quickly through the forest. It was warm, but a light breeze cooled his skin. It made him cool in the shadows under the trees and very hot in the open. There were two thin clouds in the open sky. The falcon was gliding just under them. Finn watched it as he moved. He began to hear it crying out more than normal. In fact, he thought it might be gliding in a circle.

  Have you found something? Is someone coming?

  This gave Finn a rush of energy. He began to run in the direction of the great bird. He stayed in the forest as much as possible. He did not want to run headfirst into a gorgon scouting party or more Skin Slavers. Finn moved cautiously. He began to hear something in the distance, a clanging mixed with muffled yells.

  Swords? Someone is fighting …

  Finn was close to the edge of a large clearing. He put his satchel of supplies down beside a tree. He covered it with leaves and sticks. Finn took the bow that Imeldris had given him. He held it firmly and notched an arrow. Slowly, Finn moved to the edge of clearing. The noises grew louder. It was the deafening sound of metal on metal. He could see them.

  Gorgons. A scouting party. God and kings! Who are they fighting!

  It was a gorgon scouting party. They had one ox-drawn wagon. The ox had an enormous arrow jutting from its jaw and was sliced through the belly by a large blade. The beast was a lump of hair and blood on the ground. The wagon was on its side. There was a line of arrows in the ground waiting to be fired. However, the gorgons must have been surprised. Their attackers were too close now for arrows. Five gorgons laid dead on the ground like heaps of scaled flesh. Blood pooled around them. The remaining gorgons numbered between ten and fifteen. Finn could not be sure because everyone was moving so quickly. Some of the gorgons had swords, while others gripped spears. Finn had forgotten how big they were. The gorgons were enormous. They looked like scaled apes with thick spiky tails that coiled around one of their legs. Their thick skin rippled and stretched around their muscled frame. Finn thought the leader was dead because the captains were the only ones with uncoiled tails. Their teeth were jagged and yellowish white. Finn could see their forked tongues when they yelled. He had never seen them like this – they were scared!

  They were the largest men that Finn had ever seen. They wore thick leather tunics that were lined with animal skins and fur. Steel ringlets and thin metal plates were woven into the leather. One man carried an axe in each hand. The others wielded swords and shields that were painted a faded green and gold. Their hair was long and braided in places, as were their beards. These men did not fight like trained soldiers; they were brawlers. They fought with a harshness. There was no mercy to be found.

  They slashed at the gorgons in a focused rage. Their strength was massive. One of the men slammed his shield into two gorgons. Finn saw blood and teeth fly, as the gorgons shot backwards landing on the ground.

  They bleed black blood.

  The man with the axes chopped and sliced at the gorgons. He kicked one to the ground. Another man brought his shield down hard on the fallen gorgon's neck. It stayed lifeless on the dirt. One gorgon jabbed wildly with his spear at the man with the axes. He swung his axe to block the spear, but instead he missed the blade and hit the wood below it causing it to split in two. The spear tip hit a metal plate on his tunic and slid off his chest. It cut into the man's shoulder and arm. The giant man roared out in pain. He lurched forward and slammed the top of the axe into the gorgon’s face. Bone and skin pushed inward. He followed by swinging his other axe. It bit deeply into the gorgon, cutting through his arm and burying itself in its chest.

  Finn was amazed at how the men fought. They did not fight in formations like the trained soldiers he had seen at Castle Red. Instead, they worked together with the sense that each man knew the other was capable of destroying his adversary. They helped each other, but not out of training. These men were warriors; they fought with anger and veracity. Finn found great pleasure in seeing the gorgons die in battle. He loved the look of fear in their eyes. He thought of the caravan. He thought of Nylah.

  They are scared of these men. Gorgons die just like us.

  The last two gorgons turned to flee. The men stood their ground but did not give chase.

  This is my chance.

  Finn stood raising his bow. He looked straight down the arrow. There was a light breeze so he aimed slightly high. He knew the arrow would hit the mark. It would bite just below the neck of the gorgon. He lightened his grip on the bowstring. Everything he had ever learned about the bow ran through his mind.

  Don't pluck the string. Let the string slip through my fingers. Let the bow do the work.

  Suddenly, a large arrow whooshed past the men. It hit the back of the gorgon. The thick steel tip burst from its chest. Finn's arrow was still notched.

  There must be another man in the woods. One of them was watching with his bow the entire time.

  Finn quickly turned his aim at the remaining gorgon. He quickly raised the arrow from its mark. He let the bowstring slip through his fingers. The string snapped forward. However, before the arrow sailed out, a thick piece of dark wood hit the arrow causing it to slide along the ground and bounce off a tree. Finn looked up and saw another man staring down at him. He held a large bow.

  He hit my arrow with his bow. He made me miss.

  “We need him to live,” the man said.

  Finn stared up at the man. He was wide chested. His vest exposed his muscled arms. His hair was gray and pulled into a ponytail. The man's beard was braided at his chin and hung down over his neck. He wore faded leather pants and boots. These men were even larger up close. Finn felt his rage building again. Giant or not, he had caused Finn to miss.

  “I had him. I wouldn't have missed,” said Finn.

  “Indeed, boy. There lays the problem. We need him to live,” replied the man.

  “Why?” asked Finn.

  “I found a human here,” the man yelled to the others and laughed.

  “Bring him out. We
haven't much time,” replied the man with the two axes.

  “Come. Grab your things,” said the man. Finn grabbed his satchel from under the leaves. They walked to the others. Finn felt like a child standing with them. They were at least three hands taller than the largest man at Castle Red. There were five of them. The three that fought the gorgons and the two bowmen that were watching from the forest. Finn looked down at the dead gorgons. Their black blood was drying in the dirt. Finn thought of dead snakes still being able to bite.

  “They are quite dead, boy,” said the man that had found him.

  “Who are you?” asked Finn.

  “Are you still mad? Did that one gorgon mean that much to you?” replied the man.

  “I wanted to kill him. I want to kill all of them,” said Finn.

  “Our actions do not need an answer, especially to some young human. He needs to move. They will be here soon,” said the man with the axes.

  “We let him live because there are two scouting parties. We just killed the small one. The gorgon will bring the others to us,” said the gray haired bowmen.

  “Let one live to kill them all,” said one of the men with a shield.

  “There will be fighting here. Leave. We cannot account for a boy,” said the man with the axes.

  “My friend is being held by them. I'm not a boy,” said Finn.

  “All humans are young. Go north if you must,” said the man with the axes. “Do not stay here, though.”

  “I can fight them,” said Finn. He felt his anger rising up again.

  Why am I forcing this? I just want Nylah.

  “His aim was right. He would have hit the gorgon,” said the bowman.

  “We do not need this,” said the man with the axes. Finn could tell he was growing tired of the discussion. The man began to wrap a cloth over his wounded shoulder.