by Liara Woo
Now Halthren's back was stinging from the whiplashes; his knees hurt from falling on rocks; and his wrists and arms ached after being tied for so long. He hadn't been given any food or water since his imprisonment, at least two weeks, and only the sun and moon were giving him energy—because he was made of Light, he could live without physical nourishment for a time.
He was exhausted from running so fast for so long among such evil, but escape was impossible. He was horribly outnumbered. So he went through the constellations in his mind, thinking about all of the stories told in the stars, about the magic they held. But the next thing he knew, his foot hit an uneven patch of ground the wrong way and he tripped, collapsing face-down on a rock. With a sickening crack he heard his nose break, and he grimaced in pain.
"Get up, elf!" one of the demons roared. The same one bearing the whip with nine strands of wire on the end that tore at his flesh when they hit him. The same one who'd originally captured him. The one who seemed to be in charge. Halthren struggled with his bound limbs to stand before the whip came down again.
Crack!
The whip hit the bloody stripes over the middle of his back, marks of the whip's previous deeds, and Halthren grunted in pain as he struggled to move away. The whip hit him again, and again, and again. His back was stinging anew. Desperately he rolled over, and the whip hit him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain and struggled to his knees, but because of his bound ankles and his ever-increasing weakness he couldn't stand. He could taste blood on his lips and he felt it dripping down his back.
"We're wastin' time, Blacknack," another demon snarled. "Don't you want to start interrogating this runt?"
The demon with the whip growled threateningly. "Would you rob me of my fun, Garrock?"
"No. But you'll have plenty of fun when we get to Vernisgard. Nashgor's shape-changer promised me that you could oversee the interrogation."
Blacknack laughed. It was not a nice laugh. It sounded as if he were choking on his own blood. Halthren felt a shiver go down his spine, but it had nothing to do with the terrible laugh.
Nashgor. The embodiment of pure evil and possibly the horrible black shadow that had cursed him and still haunted his nightmares. The Dark Lord's massive fortress, Vernisgard, was a prison. The last times Halthren had been captured, he'd been brought to one of the many demon camps throughout the Dark country of Kratchene. They were easy to escape from. But Vernisgard…that was entirely different.
Halthren was hauled to his feet and thrown into the back of a wagon full of rough, coarse material meant to be torn into strips for binding wounds. Wishing he could use the fabric for his own injuries, he curled himself into a ball after the demons chained his wrists and ankles to the sides of the wagon. The iron manacles were rough on the inside, scratching his skin with each movement. But the group of monsters headed out again, oblivious to his discomfort.
Halthren closed his eyes. The Darkness that surrounded him was wearying, and he'd been running for days. He tried to sleep, but the jolting and bumping of the wagon made it hard for him to get any rest. After an hour, he opened his eyes and sat up. The demons were running through an old village that had been burned to the ground. Now the stones and the charred wooden frames were crumbling with age, and moss and ivy covered them. Halthren's eyes widened with misery. This was once the village of Dorilis, he realized. This was once my home!
As he passed a house with three of its walls still standing, he closed his eyes again, and his memory provided an image of the house as it had been years and years ago. It had been a beautiful structure, with elegant twisting designs carved into the stone. Back then it was a joyous place with flowers and beautiful gardens in the summer and snow sculptures in the winter.
Halthren felt tears sting his eyes as he remembered how joyful Dorilis had been. No one was ever sad there. It was peaceful, unassuming, and modestly beautiful. Even better, he and his parents had lived there. They'd been happy together…his mother had carefully taught him to be true to himself and to be a sword in the hands of the stars against the forces of Darkness. His father, strong and tall, had held him in his arms and spoke to him of having hope and being brave. But then the demons had come, raiding and burning, and they'd killed everyone in the entire village.
Except, of course, for Halthren.
Now Dorilis was a ruin, sad and forlorn, because of Darkness. Halthren clenched his teeth angrily. Now the same thing will happen to the castle…to Joran's home, and my adopted home.
He blamed himself. There should have been something he could have done differently to save that place. In his mind he replayed what he'd done…he'd been guarding the palace with the other elves when a terrified white stag had bounded out of the woods. "They're coming! They're coming!" the animal had shouted. "They're coming to kill the king and his son!"
Treemoon had taken Halthren in as his own child after he'd escaped the destruction of Dorilis. Joran was a brother to him in all but blood. So when the stag had sounded the alarm, Halthren had abandoned his post and ran directly to Treemoon's bedroom only to find that demons had climbed up trees around the castle and jumped in through windows to avoid the guards. By the time Halthren reached the king, Treemoon was dead.
Trying to remain calm and not give in to the grief that threatened to consume him, Halthren had raced through a secret passageway in the walls—the fastest way to Joran's room. When he found Joran alive he'd nearly wept with relief. But where could he send the prince? For at that moment, alarm horns had sounded. The guards back at the front of the castle had met a second battalion of demons. Darkness was attacking on the inside and the outside. They wanted death.
Halthren knew the legends of old better than anyone, so he knew of the one place Joran could find refuge: The Forest of Mist. He remembered thinking, I've already lost my parents and my adopted parents. I'm not going to lose Joran as well!
So he'd sent his friend to the Forest of Mist.
Now Halthren was beset by doubt and misery. If Joran didn't find the Earth-child who could save them all, he'd never be able to return to Allagandria. If the Earth-child didn't come to Allagandria, Darkness would overcome the Light of the elves and the world was doomed. Halthren shook his head sadly, closing his eyes and begging the Creator not to let goodness fall as he slipped into a restless sleep…
He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. Dawn had not yet come.
It was hard to believe that the raid on the castle had occurred weeks ago. To Halthren, it seemed like only a few hours had passed…
The stars were out, twinkling brightly, winking at him. They gave him hope. He closed his eyes again and smiled grimly to himself. I will not stop fighting until my very last breath. I will avenge my parents and the king if I can. Darkness will never overcome me!
"Oy, Blacknack," one of the demons snarled. "Is 'e allowed to be smiling?"
Blacknack growled; a long, low sound. "No," he grunted. "Stop the Verdecolossals!"
Verdecolossals? Halthren wondered, his mind in a daze of exhaustion. Those are rare…He struggled into a sitting position and saw what was pulling the wagon he was chained to: a gargantuan green bulldog with an unusually long, spiked tail. The bulldog was bulky with muscle and larger than a draft horse. A demon sat on its back, controlling it with a rope attached to a spiked collar around its neck. Looking around, Halthren saw that a few of the other demons were also riding Verdecolossals. I must be tired; I didn't even notice them before!
Blacknack dsimounted and approached the wagon. Halthren's mind snapped out of its daze and he felt a tremor of fear go through him. What will they do to me? He briefly considered trying to say something to save himself, but he was too stubborn to give the idea another moment's consideration. And anyway, he knew deep down that nothing he said or did would do any good.
"Don't try to save yourself, vile creature. Your words mean nothing to us," Blacknack hissed, thumping his chest. "We are the Darkest of the Dark. No forgiveness, no mercy. I can't wait for Vernisga
rd. Then the fun will begin. But as for now…we want you there in one piece. So I'll just have to settle for a little bit of squealing."
Two other demons reached into the back of the wagon; their hands alone were larger than Halthren's head. Halthren squirmed away, but they grabbed his wrists and ankles and forced them against the sides of the cart. With all of his strength he tried to pull his way free, but the demons were just too strong. They unlocked his chains and pulled him from the wagon with hardly any effort, even though Halthren writhed and twisted, trying to get free.
"Hold 'im down," Blacknack commanded. At once three demons tackled him and pinned him to the ground, although Halthren struggled as much as he could, trying to wriggle out from beneath them. But against three muscular monsters who were broader and a full head taller than he was, he stood no chance of escaping. Blacknack smiled, baring his rotting teeth, and knelt close to Halthren, who forced himself not to show terror. He stared defiantly into Blacknack's bloodshot yellow eyes.
"You won't break me," Halthren spat, trying to sound braver than he felt. Trying to honor his father's words. "I'll never tell you what you want to know."
"We'll see about that," Blacknack laughed. Again, it sounded as if he was choking on something disgusting. He got to his feet and forcefully kicked Halthren's stomach. Halthren was forced to let all of his breath out in a gasp and lay motionless, winded, trying to catch his breath. The demons laughed menacingly.
"Looks like we got a fish out of water," one of them chuckled.
"Alright, enough wasting time!" another one roared. It was Garrock; Halthren could tell from his voice. "The current Master of Vernisgard, the Shape-Shifter, second only to Nashgor Itself, wants us in Kratchene by dawn! Now move it, you dogs! You scruffy, mangy—"
"How can we be scruffy or mangy?" a demon asked, cackling. "We 'ave scales, you brainless oaf! We're reptilian!"
"I'm astonished your pint-sized brain knows a word that long," Garrock sneered.
"ENOUGH!" Blacknack roared. Silence fell imediately. Even the Verdecolossals went quiet. "Listen here, Garrock, commander in chief of Vernisgard. If you want me to stop 'wasting time,' as you put it, I need something from you in return. Do I have your solemn oath that I will oversee the torture?"
Garrock smiled crookedly. He knew that of all the demons, Blacknack loved inflicting pain the most. He relished watching agony of any kind with a passion. "Yes," he growled in response.
Blacknack sneered. "Wonderful." He turned back to Halthren and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him and squeezing the air from his body with one hand, pressing his windpipe into his spinal cord. "You're very fortunate, elfling. I'll let you get by with a small punishment. I can wait for Vernisgard." He threw Halthren into one of the cart's wheels and the elf slumped to the ground, gasping hoarsely and wishing he could massage his throat. He was as limp as a rag doll as he was tossed into the back of the wagon, where he closed his eyes, bruised, battered, and only semiconscious.
Halthren began to realize that he would most likely die in the dungeons of Vernisgard.
Into the Forest
Into the Forest
Katie raced back to the trees behind cabin eight and shouted, "Darktail, I need your help!"
"I'm coming," the answering whinny sounded as Darktail raced towards her at a full gallop, slowing to a stop just long enough for her to swing onto his broad back.
"To the lake," she panted. "No time to explain!"
Darktail twitched his yellow ears and broke into a fast, agile canter, cutting across the camp in front of a bewildered Mrs. Sorenson.
"Katie! What on Earth…?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. But the horse and rider were soon well out of sight. Darktail trotted down the steep trail. Katie held tight to his mane and let out a gasp of relief when he reached the shore.
"Get on," she said to Joran. "Cami, you need to go back to camp."
"But I want to help," Cami protested as Joran vaulted gracefully onto Darktail's back. "I want to have an adventure."
"Darktail can only carry two," Katie told her gently. "You should stay here."
Cami looked sad. "But…I've read so many books that have elves in them. I'd love more than anything to go with him. Their kind is amazing!"
"Now you know that they're real," Katie replied as gently as she could. "That's a lot more than most people know."
Cami smiled sadly. Then her eyes widened in final desperation. "Please!" she exclaimed. Suddenly there was a sharp click.
"Ouch!" Joran exclaimed. "Something stung me!"
Katie looked back at him; he was rubbing his shoulder with a pained expression.
"She got you!" Katie exclaimed, referring to Mrs. Sorenson. The camp director was running down the path with her tranquilizer gun. "Go, Darktail! Sorry, Cami!"
She hated the idea of leaving her new friend behind…but what would Mrs. Sorenson do to Joran if she caught him? Darktail bolted into the forest at a swift gallop, steadily gaining speed. Katie gripped his main as tightly as she could, and she felt Joran's long hands on her shoulders, holding on with surprising strength. A slight shiver ran through her at his touch.
"She's following us!" he whispered harshly in her ear. "The small one!"
Cami still wants to come! Katie felt despair welling within her heart. The whole reason for riding Darktail was to give them a head start on the forest rangers. Mrs. Sorenson knew that they were riding a horse, and now that Cami was following them, she also knew exactly where to start tracking them. The rangers would find them, driving vehicles much faster than Darktail. They needed a safe place to hide.
Darktail charged through the woods, leaping over fallen logs and swerving around tall pines and aspens. Katie felt Joran's grip on her shoulders begin to weaken. The sedative was beginning to take effect. "Are you alright?" she called over her shoulder as a branch whipped across her cheek. She flinched at the pain and faced forward again.
Joran was blinking. There was a confused expression on his fair elven face. "I-I don't know," he replied nervously. "I've never felt anything like this before. It's as if…something stole all of my strength…all of my energy…"
"Try to stay awake," Katie said nervously. She glanced once more over her shoulder and saw Joran clench his teeth in determination. I hope his willpower will be enough, she thought anxiously. Facing forward again, she narrowly missed hitting a second tree branch—one that would have knocked her off. Then she heard a grunt and a thump, and guessed that Joran hadn't been as fortunate. "Stop, Darktail!" she exclaimed. Looking back again, she saw Joran clinging to the branch and struggling to pull himself up.
"Keep going," he said. "Don't waste time coming back for me." He stood on top of the branch and leapt gracefully from one limb to another with unbelievable speed as Darktail continued running. Katie would have waited for the elf, but Darktail had other ideas, and Joran was running just about as fast as the horse anyway. She saw him land with perfect balance on one branch and with impeccable timing he leaped and spun in the air so that he landed in a crouch on Darktail's back.
"Apparently you still have plenty of energy," Katie commented in amazement. Casting a sideways glance over her shoulder, she was taken aback to see that Joran's eyes were half closed and his shoulders drooped. He looked exhausted. "I take it back," Katie amended. "Hold on!"
"Where are we even going?" Darktail asked. "I am running blindly through the woods. Where do you wish to go?"
Katie hesitated. Then she had an idea. "We're splitting up," she announced. "Darktail, you can just keep running wherever you want. Try to head for branches that could potentially hit us in the head. Joran, you and I will catch a branch, get to the ground, and do something to mask our scent. Then we run."
"I don't think I can do that again," Joran mumbled. "And even so, I don't think that will work…"
"Sure it will," Katie returned, forcing her voice to sound more optimistic than she felt. She swallowed nervously. "Ready? You first." She ducked as a branch went by. Then she looke
d back and saw Joran desperately holding on to it.
Okay. Might as well get this over with. She turned her head to face the front again, and when the next branch came, she grabbed it with both hands. She screeched in shock and almost let go; the feeling of Darktail's back disappearing from beneath her was a new and frightening sensation. She lowered herself slowly to the ground, mindful of the rocks below her. For a moment she watched Darktail gallop away into the night; then she turned and walked back towards Joran.
The young elf leaned against a nearby tree trunk, his head hanging down. He saw her looking at him. "I don't think I can do this much longer, Katie. I am fighting against it, but I know I will not be able to win."
She saw the desperation and confusion in his eyes and was surprised that he hadn't asked why he was so exhausted. If she were in his place she'd be freaking out about the strange little dart making her tired. "Just hang in there for a little longer, alright? We have to get far away from Darktail's trail."
