The Redwoods

by Ross Turner

  But there wasn’t time to dawdle lost in thought. Dorian Featherstone boldly led his wife and daughter through the fire and enemy ridden corridors, gradually descending further and further, making their way towards the courtyard at the base of their home.

  It seemed to take them an age to make their way through the Keep, but the worst of the fighting was behind them now, and the vast halls were much quieter, through more often than not Vivian’s father was forced to face down adversaries blocking their way in armed combat.

  As they proceeded towards the main door at the front of the house, Vivian made a note of each man her father encountered and overcame, counting them, though she didn’t really know why. She had never before seen her father in battle, and though he wore no armour and had no shield, brandishing only a meagre sword compared to some of the men he faced, his efficiency was brutal.

  Her mother tried to shield her from the sight, but Vivian couldn’t help but be drawn to it, almost even hungrily.

  In a strange sort of way she felt enticed by the clashes, and the sight of blood lit a fire in her stomach that she simply had no words to describe.

  “Where are we going father?” Vivian eventually asked, after he had slaughtered yet another armoured opponent, driving his blade through the man’s neck, bringing the total to seven.

  “We have to leave.” He replied simply. “There are too many.” His daughter only nodded in response, somehow understanding exactly what he meant.

  They were going to hide in the Redwoods. Their home had been infected, infested with the enemy, and now they had no choice but to leave.

  They reached the main door of the house, a huge wooden thing that usually took two or more men to force slowly open. Vivian’s father placed one hand on the thick wooden frame and it flew open effortlessly, crashing against the stone walls with a thunderous bang, splintering the wood even and cracking the stone deeply.

  Vivian didn’t question the fact, knowing there was not time, but it certainly flared her curiosity.

  Dorian cursed under his breath then, not loud enough for his daughter to hear, but nonetheless obviously. Concealed on the outside of the door were three more armed men, eagerly awaiting their arrival. These men were fresh, unbloodied, and clearly had been posted here simply to lie in wait.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” The man to the left asked, a horrible grin spread across his ugly face.

  “Out of my way.” Dorian growled as he launched himself at the three men. He swung his blade as he jumped, catching one of them by surprise and burying the sharp edge of the sword deep into side of the man’s face, killing him instantly.

  The other two wasted no time, and lunged brutally for Vivian’s father. He parried one swing, pulling his sword free from the first man’s face just in time, spraying hot blood everywhere, and dodged a second, but only just. He fought the two men, his reflexes catlike and his movements swift, and they traded swings and parries for only a few moments. That was all the time it took for Dorian to find an opening in their defence, and he quickly exploited it.

  He darted forward yet again, driving the tip of his sword through the chest of the man who had first spoken. But he didn’t have time to block or evade the swinging sword of the third man, and he bought it down in a great swoop and with a triumphant cry towards Dorian’s unprotected head.

  “FATHER!” Vivian cried out involuntarily, not for the first time that night.

  But just before the sword made contact with Dorian’s skull, it all but vanished, crumbling to dust, leaving the attacker holding nothing but air. He stared at his hands dumbly, in sheer disbelief, glancing back and forth between them and Dorian. Vivian’s father rose slowly to his feet, leaving his sword still protruding from its latest victim, and his eyes bore terribly into the soul of his quivering, unarmed enemy.

  “I…I…” The man stuttered as Dorian advanced. “I’ve never seen it before…” Was all he managed to say before all colour drained from his face, visible even in dim light of the night.

  As he continued to stare at his numb, dust covered fingers, they too began to vanish before his very eyes, crumbling to dust just as his sword had done. It appeared not to hurt, but as the man’s hands and arms began to disappear, he looked up to Dorian once more, a terrible look of horror painted across his face.

  His gaze only lasted for a few moments however, before all that was left of him was but a pile of ashy powder on the ground, immediately scattered on a chill breeze and lost to the darkness of the harsh night.

  4

  Vivian stared at her father through the dark of the night, unsure exactly what had just happened, though for some reason she felt as though she should have known. She was holding her mother’s hand still, and let out a great sigh of relief. The three men were defeated, and her father was still alive.

  Dorian Featherstone stood with his head dipped, as if looking at the spot where the man who had just turned to dust had stood, but somehow Vivian could tell that his eyes were closed. Clearly he was not happy about what he had just had to do.

  But what had he done? How had he done it?

  Vivian had no idea.

  She only knew that his hand had been forced, and that her father wouldn’t have enjoyed it. Though, for some reason, it rather fascinated her, but she kept that thought to herself.

  Suddenly, her mother cried out in pain and her grip on Vivian’s hand tightened, becoming a suffocating grasp of terror.

  “MOTHER!” Vivian shrieked as Miranda Featherstone crumpled to the floor, collapsing into a bloodied heap. Even in the dark of the night the blade protruding from her back was as clear as day.

  “MIRANDA!” Dorian shouted, racing to her side, taking his wife and his daughter into his arms.

  But there was no time for that.

  “Over here!” A man shouted to others from further down the entrance hallway. He was the one who had thrown the knife. He pulled another blade from the scabbard at his waist and charged towards Dorian and Vivian, and the dying Miranda, raising his hand again as he ran.

  Her father didn’t move, but this time Vivian even sensed the thought emanate from his body, only a moment before the charging attacker was swept from his feet. His body sailed through the air with terrifying speed and hammered into the stone wall with force enough to kill a hundred men. He didn’t move again. His body barely even twitched.

  But still a dozen or more men poured from doorways and corridors leading to the entrance hallway, all with only one thing in mind. Vivian began to panic. She knew they were going to die. There were too many of them.

  “Father! FATHER! I don’t want to die!” She cried desperately.

  That was all she managed before he silenced her.

  “Vivian! Run!” He ordered, putting his finger to her lips to quiet her panic. “Go south into the Redwoods. Hide from them!”

  “But…”

  “GO NOW!” He roared, rising to his feet and sending yet another three men cascading into the stone wall, killing them too, though now his attacks were clearly weakening, and his posture was stooped.

  Vivian didn’t need to be told again, and she fled for the tall iron gates, hoping and praying that her father would follow her. She knew he would protect her, of that she had no doubt, but she wanted him to come with her, and a horrible, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that he would not.

  Sure enough, when she reached the iron railings and looked back, she saw exactly what she had been afraid of. With her heart pounding like a drum in her chest, her eyes fell upon the figure of her father stood still in the majestic, blood stained doorway of Featherstone Keep, fighting for his life, and for the fast fading life of his wife.

  The charging attackers were throwing knives, loosing arrows, and hurling balls of fire, seemingly from their fingertips, all aimed at Dorian. Hopeless tears streaked down Vivian’s face, knowing she could do nothing to help him, and she could see that each attack he dodged and parried drained his strength more and more
.

  Finally, as an arrow lodged itself in his shoulder, and a blade between his ribs, Vivian could watch no longer, and she squeezed her tiny frame between the iron railings and took off into the Redwood Forest, heading south as best she could. After only a few minutes she found herself running blindly, gasping desperately for air, her lungs and her legs burning painfully, but she refused to cease, and kept her pace furiously.

  Eventually she stopped to rest, dropping to her knees and drinking deep gulps of air between fits of coughing and spluttering, recovering slowly.

  “AFTER THE GIRL!” She heard a voice bellow in the distance. “WE CAN’T LOSE HER!”

  The sound spurred Vivian to her feet once more, though she could not run. She could barely even see, and she stumbled blindly through the trees and the shrubs, putting as much distance between herself and her pursuers as she could possibly manage. She could hear them crashing through the woodlands behind her and the sound urged her forwards, forcing her to ignore the pain in her legs.

  Finally, after what felt like an awfully long time, though she had no way to know exactly how long it had been, Vivian collapsed in a heap against the rough bark of the trunk of an enormous tree. She breathed deeply and slowly, and cried as quietly as possible in the darkness, though the sound carried further than she would have liked in the night. She muffled the sounds of her sobs as best she could, unable to stop her flooding tears.

  Her body shook from fear, but before long she was shaking more from the cold, and the danger she was in dawned slowly upon her. She was lost, alone in the Redwoods. If her pursuers didn’t find her, she would likely freeze to death, and if she didn’t freeze to death, something would probably eat her.

  All in all, things seemed little better than they had done back at the Keep.

  The clouds above broke then, allowing light from the moon and the stars to filter through the canopy above in a few small beams, lighting the area around Vivian for but a moment or two. Though everything looked black in the darkness of night, in the reflected light from the moon she could see the tint of red all about her, and it brought a faint smile to her lips.

  She had finally made it here. Though it had cost her parents’ lives, and soon would likely cost her own, she had at least finally managed to fulfil her dream of venturing out into the Redwoods.

  “Ah…” A voice whispered suddenly then, filling Vivian with terrible dread and déjà vu. “There you are…”

  The young girl, Vivian, daughter of the fabled, and murdered, Dorian and Miranda Featherstone, looked up trembling, recognising the voice of the shadow instantly. She doubted she would ever forget it.

  He stepped forward from the treeline into the light of the moon and the stars, revealing his face to Vivian for the first time. Anything that the man had been before her mother and father had set him alight, was surely gone now, and what remained was nothing but a scarred, mutilated shell of a human being, his face and body barely even recognisable.

  “Now then…” He continued, moving forward, returning to the shadows, moving ever closer to Vivian, still cowering on the floor. “It seems we’ve been here before, you and I.”

  The satisfaction in his voice was sickening, for now absolutely nothing stood between him and his prize. He could see her, and her parents, her protectors, were dead. He had no weapon, but that didn’t matter, he would happily settle for killing her with his bare hands. In fact, he was quite looking forward to feeling Vivian’s life drain away from between his fingers as he throttled her to death.

  He took another step closer, but Vivian had not come this far to give up so easily. And so, despite the cold and the dark seeping through to her very bones, she leapt to her feet and took off once again through the darkness, surging and tearing through the undergrowth, crashing blindly through the trees once more.

  “You can’t escape!” The shadow called after her as he immediately took up chase, laughing and whooping like a madman as he ran, apparently his sanity having slipped away along with his recognisable human form.

  He howled and cackled maniacally as he followed Vivian, not even really trying to catch her, for he kept up with her pace all too easily, and he was enjoying himself too much now, savouring his victory.

  “I’m coming!” He called through the night, laughing wildly still. “There’s nowhere to hide!”

  Vivian ducked and dove and wove her way through the trees and bushes, branches scratching and clawing at her exposed face and neck as she ran, stumbling desperately. Exhaustion soon threatened to claim her, for she could run no more, and the moonlight shone upon her like a spotlight between the breaks in the canopy above.

  Eventually, with little other option, she drove through some low shrubs, forcing her body through the tiniest of gaps, diving to the floor, and when she emerged the other side she spied a black tunnel, a hole between two protruding rocks. A cave.

  It likely housed a creature that would rip her to shreds, but by that point her options were wearing more than a little thin, and the young girl crawled the last ten metres or so towards the mouth of the opening.

  “Oh no you don’t!” The shadow called again, still laughing with glee, and he grabbed Vivian by her ankle and dragged her back towards him, turning her onto her back, giving her a very close up and horrendous view of his scorched and mottled and melted face.

  She screamed at first, but his strong hand clasped over her mouth and silenced her in the darkness, his body pinning her down to the freezing cold floor. She felt his weight bearing down on her ribs, slowly suffocating her. He was not going to kill her quickly. He was going to make her suffer; she knew that immediately.

  He was a big man. He could easily have killed her by now if he’d wanted to. It wouldn’t have taken very much. He was just playing with her.

  Then movement caught his attention, and he snapped his gaze upwards and towards the entrance to the cave.

  Hope flickered in Vivian’s mind for a moment. She thought back to the stories her father used to tell her. At least if a dragon killed her, it would kill her quickly, she thought. But no such mercy came.

  A small creature, presumably awoken by Vivian’s brief scream, stumbled from the cave. It was a cub: a bear cub, barely even a week old. The cub stumbled towards them in the dark, its figure lighted by the moonlight.

  The shadow of a man cursed foully to himself and dragged Vivian to her feet and hauled her onto his shoulder. He turned his back on the cave and began immediately in the opposite direction. If there was a cub here, the mother certainly wouldn’t be far away.

  And indeed he was correct, for in the instant the cub yelped at the sight of the shadowy man and Vivian leaving, a tremendous roar shook the trees all around them in response. The sound of the mother returning, crashing madly through the trees, felling them in her wake, could be heard in abundance. It was altogether likely that the woodlands shook for many leagues in every direction at the sound, the roar echoing terrifyingly through the dark of the night.

  The shadow man, still carrying Vivian, broke immediately into a run. He knew the dangers of the Redwood Forest as well as anybody, and did not intend to fall victim to a great bear’s wrath. In this instance however, he had little say in the matter, for his presence, even his smell alone, threatened the mother’s cub, and such her rage was unmatched and inescapable.

  In only seconds she was upon them. Her claws raked the man’s mottled back, throwing him to the ground with yet another cry of agony. Vivian was thrown too, though she soared much further, since she was much lighter, and landed with a small grunt against the base of a stout Redwood tree.

  She was dazed and dizzied by her fall, and her head hurt badly, but strangely, in that moment, as the young girl of only eleven watched the mother bear mauling the screaming shadow man, ripping him limb from limb, piece from piece, she was reminded of her parents. They too had defended their child, probably barely even an hour ago, perhaps a little longer, she had no way of knowing exactly.

  The Greystones
had murdered her family - she knew that much at least. And so, as she watched and listened to the ripping and tearing of flesh and the snapping and breaking and crunching of bone, as the great, angry bear obliterated the man who had tried to kill her, it was with a small smile of satisfaction, a glimmer of sweet revenge, that she awaited her own fate.

  When the mother bear had finished her work, and the shadow man had quite obviously stopped struggling, she looked up coldly towards Vivian, who by now had almost entirely been taken by exhaustion, and by her spinning head. She sat slumped, barely even able to look up, waiting for the bear to finish her work. She did not wait resentfully, for she knew by this point, after having watched her own parents die for her, that to protect their young was only a parent’s duty.

  So instead she accepted it. She did not resent the bear, even in the slightest. She welcomed the fact even, for it would be a comfortable relief from the harsh of the bitter cold, and indeed also from the agonising truth of everything that had happened that night.

  The approaching monster eyed the young girl cautiously, its massive bulk shifting surprisingly elegantly as it passed between the breaks of moonbeams. Finally it stopped, standing directly over Vivian, its enormous body blocking most of the light, breathing in her scent fully.

  It growled fiercely for a moment when Vivian moved. But she only rolled off the tree she was propped against and lay down on her back submissively, ready for her death, wishing for nothing more than to sink into the ground and vanish forever. To be able to simply forget everything she had seen that night would have been nothing short of heavenly bliss, and she greeted the feeling with open arms, waiting for the mauling to begin.

  The great menacing beast cocked its head sideways in curiosity, wondering what in the world the girl was doing. She had expected her to scream like the man had done.

  Why wasn’t she afraid?

  She even looked glad.