by Chuck Black
“Eirwyn!” He tried to scream, but he could not speak. Something was pressing against his throat. The sun disappeared, and the edges of his nightmare faded away to blackness.
Bentley broke from his dream and realized that it was not Eirwyn who had screamed, but Luanne. Still groggy, Bentley fumbled to rise, but the steel blade that was pressed across his neck pinned him to the earth. As his mind fully awakened to reality, his heart continued to race. He reached for his sword or his knife, but his belt had been cast aside.
“Try anything and I will end your life right now!” The voice spoke closely to his ear. It was familiar but much darker than before. “Get up!”
Avarick grabbed Bentley by his shoulder and dragged him to his feet, keeping the edge of his blade pressed tightly against his throat. Bentley was amazed at the man's strength. A strangling fear welled up within him, not for himself, but for Walsch, Luanne, her family, and—Anya! He looked frantically about in the early dawn light for his small charge, but he could not see her. On the porch, two of Avarick's warriors were bludgeoning Walsch, and Bentley heard screams and commotion inside the cabin.
“No need to hurt them, Avarick,” Bentley gasped. “It's me you came for.”
Avarick chortled wickedly. “Oh, I've come for so much more than you.”
The two warriors dragged Walsch off the porch and threw him into the dirt. Three others pushed Luanne and her family out of the cabin. Luanne ran over to Walsch and tried to help him stand. Blood poured down his face, and one eye was red and swollen. The family was herded closer to Bentley and Avarick. He saw terror in their eyes.
Just then a rider came galloping onto their farm from the east.
“Where are they?” Avarick asked him.
“Not far,” the man replied. “Two hours at most.”
“Good,” Avarick said. “Take care of the lookout guards, and have the rest of my men ready.”
The warrior saluted and galloped off toward Holbrook Castle. Avarick slammed Bentley up against the tree, the knife blade still against his neck. He glared into Bentley's eyes with loathing. Bentley realized he had far underestimated Avarick's potential for evil—because only now did he realize who Avarick really was.
“You're a Shadow—”
Avarick pressed the knife tighter to cut off the words. Avarick smiled wickedly, his eyes so full of darkness that Bentley had to shudder.
“And you're a Knight of the Prince.” Avarick shook his head back and forth condescendingly. “Tell me, knave, is it true that all of you want to be like… Him?” Avarick made a disgusted face. “Is it?”
Bentley didn't respond. His mind was racing through the possible outcomes of this terror.
“Well, let me help you.” Avarick motioned with his head toward two of his warriors. One of them ran to his horse and mounted up, while the other tied Bentley's hands behind him.
“If I remember right—oh yes, I was there—your Prince hung in a tree. Well, here's a tree and there's a rope. How appropriate. Now you can be just like your foolish Prince.”
The mounted warrior brought a rope to them. He swung one end over a limb of the tree and tied it. The other warrior retrieved Silver-wood from where he grazed nearby and boosted Bentley onto his back. A noose was looped around his neck.
“You're the one to blame for what's happening here, knave,” Avarick said. “Confusing Kingsley stirring up the people—they were delightfully miserable. I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude, though,” he mocked. “Because of you, I now know who the Mercy Maiden is. All along, I thought she was some poor wench of no significance. Although you foiled my plans once, now there will be nothing to stop me from destroying her and making all of Holbrook fully mine.”
Bentley looked sadly toward Walsch and Luanne. He did feel somewhat responsible for the tragedy that was befalling them.
Avarick began to laugh. “Don't you get it, boy? You've been taken in by a fairy tale. Lucius always wins. He's the real prince of Arrethtrae!”
Avarick slapped the horse, and Silverwood jerked forward. The rope drew tight on Bentley's neck as he was whisked off the horse, and his airway was immediately cut off. The strain on his neck was ten times more than anything he could have imagined.
At first he kicked his feet in defiance against the pain, but that only made it worse. He could barely hear the uproarious laughter of Avarick and his warriors, mixed with the weeping of Luanne and her family The color of the world slowly faded to gray and then to black. Even though his eyes were open, he could no longer see.
My Prince, where are You? he wondered.
Snippets of sound still reached him—a shrill whinny, a scuffle. Avarick's voice saying, “No time to catch the horse. Take them to the…” Then the sounds of the world faded away too. His last thought was of Eirwyn, glowing beneath the splash of the Crimson River falls. Then she vanished, and all was still.
THE DEATH
OF LOVE
The rain was warm, which surprised him, since he remembered the morning skies had been free of clouds. Bentley liked the sensation, though, and he let the drops freely moisten his cheeks. The thunder sounded odd to him, though, and he wondered what strange storm had come. It sounded more like the wails of a child than the usual rumblings of the skies.
Bentley's mind very slowly shuffled through sounds and senses that bombarded his head from within and without. He tried to move his hand, but someone seemed to have staked it to the ground. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like they were sewn shut.
The pain returned all at once. His head pounded as though someone were hitting him with a mallet from inside his skull. As excruciating as it was, the pain helped him return to reality, and he opened his eyes to see the distraught face of his little Anya. His head was in her lap, and though her eyes were closed, her tears were falling upon his face.
“Anya…” He tried to speak, but only a whisper came out.
She opened her eyes and cried all the more.
“Bentley… you're alive!” She wiped her eyes to see him better.
He rolled over and tried to sit up, but the pain was too great. He held his head for a few moments and felt Anya's hands brush his cheek.
“Are you all right, Bentley?”
Bentley looked at her as he rubbed his neck. “I will be.”
He looked about. Other than Silverwood, who was now grazing nearby, Anya was the only one with him. He looked up into the tree and saw the rope had been severed near the branch. The knife from his belt lay nearby.
He looked back at Anya. “Did you… ?” he asked, not believing what he saw. She could hardly walk, let alone climb a tree.
She nodded.
“But how?”
She bit her lip and pointed to the knife on the ground. “They didn't see when they left. You were going to die. I just… had to.”
Bentley looked at her in amazement and then scooped her into his arms.
“You are as brave as a knight, my little princess. Thank you for saving my life! The heart of the Prince is in you.”
Anya hugged him back, and he drew great strength and courage from the pure and courageous heart of the lass.
Silverwood seemed agitated. He snorted and pawed the ground nervously. Bentley knew that something was unsettling the battle-trained horse. He quickly secured his belt, sword, and knife and mounted up. He lifted Anya onto the saddle in front of him and rode to the top of a knoll. Only then did he understand the tragedy that was unfolding.
Far to the east of the castle, Bentley could just make out hundreds of black specks moving toward Holbrook. An invasion of some kind was coming, and there was no alarm from the castle. Bentley squinted hard toward the distant figures, trying to determine the size of their force, but Anya began to pull on his tunic.
“Anya, I—” he began, but she tugged even harder.
In spite of himself, he grew annoyed with her, knowing that time was short. He looked down at her, but she was staring off to the side, away from the approachin
g Lucrums. He followed her gaze and beheld the form of a mighty warrior just a few paces away The man's muscles bulged beneath his tunic, and his dark brown hair was trimmed short. His sword was not drawn, but his countenance was firm, his eyes penetrating.
Bentley reached for his sword, thinking him to be one of Avarick's warriors, but the man stayed still.
“They will decimate the region,” he said in a quiet voice that seemed to echo. He nodded toward the invaders on the horizon. “The Lucrums and the warriors with Avarick.”
“Who are you?” Bentley asked.
The man ignored him and looked toward the Lucrums. “We knew this was coming, but it is happening much sooner than we expected. The people are in great danger. I have warriors following Demus and the Knights of the Prince, but they may arrive too late. I will ride to warn them, but you must warn the people and the castle.”
Bentley wondered if he dared trust this stranger, then realized he had no choice.
“Why would Avarick do this?” Bentley asked.
The warrior's horse seemed impatient, and Bentley saw its muscles twitch in anticipation of the ride and the impending battle.
“Because his lord is the lord of destruction and chaos. He needs no other reason.”
The mighty man of war turned his horse to the west and then looked back at Bentley.
“Not all of the castle knights and guards are loyal to Avarick. Be vigilant. I will bring help as soon as possible.” He reared his horse, then thundered down the knoll and on toward the bridge that led to Thecia. Only when he had disappeared did Bentley realize who the man might be. He shook his head in wonder.
Bentley made his way speedily to the village and castle, still holding Anya tightly in front of him, for he dared not leave her behind. All the way he wondered how his personal journey to learn the ways of the Prince had escalated into a war of forces much greater than the common folk of Arrethtrae would have ever imagined. Shadow Warriors, Silent Warriors, castle knights, guards, and the ghoulish Lucrums were all converging on Holbrook Court. Had he really been the catalyst of all this mayhem? Was it his desire to follow in the steps of the Prince that had caused the darkness to scream against the invasion of light?
Although the castle was still silent, Bentley shouted out an alarm to all he saw, asking them to spread the news. By the time he entered the village, the people were beginning to understand the reality of the Lucrum attack. When he reached the castle, he was shocked to see that the gates were still closed. Many people were pounding on the gates, but no guards were posted at any of the watchtowers.
The people cried out in panic and pleaded with Bentley to do something, for on the horizon the chilling forms of the Lucrums were descending on Holbrook. The cries of ambushed people began to roll across the lands and fill the hearts of all with fear and dread. Bentley held Anya tightly and rode east along the walls of the castle until he reached the back gate, where many of the farmers from the east lands had gathered. They were pounding on the heavy doors.
Bentley was sick at the slaughter that was about to take place, and he could do nothing to stop it. His mind raced wildly, imagining the devastation Avarick was accomplishing within the castle, and his heart clenched when he thought of Eirwyn. By now he could hear the thunder of hundreds of horses galloping toward the castle.
Just when all seemed hopeless, the back gates opened. People poured in, nearly crushing one another in their panic. Bentley made his way on Silverwood through the gate and looked for some sign of what had happened.
It looked like there was as much chaos inside the castle as out. Many guards lay dead in the courtyard and near the gate. The captain of the guards was giving orders to a small contingent of fifteen men—the only defenders in sight. Bentley made his way over to them.
“Captain, what happened?”
The captain looked at Bentley and quickly perceived him to be an ally.
“My lookouts and gate guards were killed early this morning. I don't know who to trust. Some of the knights and guards have turned against us.”
“What of Avarick?”
“I don't know. He must be with Lord Kingsley Sir Braith has not yet returned from Burkshire Castle, but Lady—”
“They're almost here!” the people shouted as the Lucrums swarmed toward the castle, yelling an eerie war cry that caused Bentley to shudder.
“Close the gate!” the captain shouted, and Bentley cringed as a man running across a field to the gate was cut down from behind by a mounted Lucrum.
Four guards closed the gate and set the locking bar.
“Captain, we've got to get that front gate open for the people. Even if we never get the gate closed again, we can defend them more easily from inside the walls.
The captain nodded, and Bentley rode through the courtyards, searching for Eirwyn as he went. He had to get Anya to safety before entering battle, but all the kingdom seemed unsafe at the moment. He rode into one of the gardens, where he spotted a large oak tree.
“Anya, you must be brave and wait for me here, all right?”
She looked at him with fear in her eyes but nodded. He lifted her high onto a branch.
“Keep out of sight until I come for you. Promise?”
“I will, Bentley. Will Eirwyn be all right?” Her eyes begged him for hope.
“I'm going to make certain of it.”
His reassurance seemed to help her, and she clung tightly to the trunk of the tree, hidden in the thick leaves. Bentley left her there, hoping desperately that she would remain undiscovered should the Lucrums gain entrance to the castle.
At the front of the castle, the guards had worked quickly to open the gate, and the people began pouring into the courtyard. Pandemonium soon filled the castle as the assault against Holbrook began.
The sounds of massacre were hard for Bentley to hear. He looked up at the castle walls and saw a number of Avarick's warriors staring down. Their swords were drawn, but they were doing nothing to help against the invasion of the Lucrums.
Bentley rode to Kingsley's majestic manor and dismounted. The fate of Eirwyn was foremost on his mind. He ran through the carved doors and hurried to the broad marble stairway that led down to the foyer of the beautiful great hall. Four guards denied him access.
“I am Sir Bentley. Tell Lord Kingsley I have urgent news for him!” he said, but they refused.
He then saw the beautiful form of Eirwyn enter the foyer from another chamber near the bottom of stairs.
“Eirwyn!”
She turned and looked up at him. She was arrayed in a beautiful white gown that matched the white of her face. Subtle ivy-colored highlights were painted on her cheeks. Her face showed grave concern.
“Eirwyn, tell your father I have urgent news!”
She hesitated, then quickly crossed to enter the great hall.
A minute later a guard appeared. “Let him enter,” he commanded.
Bentley descended the steps and entered the magnificent hall to see Lord Kingsley and Eirwyn conferring with Avarick and two of his warriors. Three of Kingsley's knights were with them as well.
“Has my son returned?” Bentley heard Kingsley ask Avarick, whose back was turned to him.
“Not yet, my lord.”
Bentley's hand flew to the hilt of his sword, and he covered the remaining distance in an instant. Seeing Eirwyn so close to this warrior of evil both frightened and infuriated him.
Kingsley's mouth dropped open at Bentley's aggressive approach. “What is the meaning of this?”
At that, Avarick wheeled about and immediately drew his sword. His two warriors and Kingsley's three knights did the same. Eirwyn and Kingsley were separated from Bentley by a wall of experienced warriors-three controlled by Lucius and three who looked confused, unsure of where the threat might be.
“Step away, Eirwyn,” Bentley told her urgently, but she did not move. She seemed frozen in place. “Lord Kingsley,” he said, “Avarick is not who you think he is.”
“Impossibl
e!” Avarick looked at Bentley as if he were seeing some apparition. “Kill him!” Avarick commanded.
Avarick's two warriors stepped forward to fight Bentley, and Avarick retreated to stand closer to Kingsley and Eirwyn.
“Hold!” Kingsley held up his hand.
The two warriors hesitated and looked at Avarick. Avarick's eyes darted quickly to Kingsley and Eirwyn and then to the three knights.
“What is going on?” Kingsley demanded.
Bentley pointed his sword toward Avarick. “He is a Shadow Warrior, as are his men. They follow the Dark Knight, Lucius.”
Kingsley looked at Avarick and then back to Bentley.
“That means nothing to me. We are under attack by the Lucrums and have no time for this foolishness.” Kingsley waved his hands, as if to brush the conflict aside.
“Avarick is in league with the Ashen Knight,” Bentley said, “and I believe he has called the Lucrums to this attack!”
At that, the three knights turned about and looked at Avarick. Kingsley eyed Bentley fiercely and then glared at Avarick.
“What proof do you have?”
Shouts filtered into the great hall as the battle outside intensified. Bentley assumed that the Lucrums must have already gained entrance to the castle. Eirwyn's eyes flicked nervously in her painted face. She clutched her father's arm. “Father, they're coming!”
Something was wrong. Bentley wanted desperately to reach her, but she seemed uncharacteristically stunned by fear. What had happened to the girl who'd stood toe to toe with the Ashen Knight?
“Move away, Eirwyn!” he shouted once more. Still she didn't move.
The two Shadow Warriors gripped their swords tightly, and Bentley prepared himself, for he could see they wanted to be set loose on him.
“Our tower guards were murdered this morning, my lord,” one of Kingsley's knights said. “And there was no alarm.” His face showed that he and his men were slowly coming to the realization that Bentley's words might be true.
Avarick moved nearer to Kingsley and Eirwyn. “Don't listen to him, my lord. He is a fool, and we are wasting precious time!”