The Fallen Prophet (The Dark Prophecy Book 1)

by Cody Loewen

  As he says this, the silence over the clearing bursts into frantic whispers. Elven voices filled with concern for their friends and families, both in the city and the surrounding communities, fill the air. Ambrosius lets the talking continue for a few moments before he raises his hands in the air to regain the attention of the group.

  “We will not allow this to happen. As we speak, the main elven army is marching to intercept the troll forces long before they reach Sylvestra. Their current pace puts them about a week’s march out from the city, and we plan to break their march days before they reach it. Our group will be meeting up with the main army to join in the attack. Every sword, axe and bow will be needed to drive the trolls back. We will eat breakfast here. After that, gather up your remaining things and tear down your tent. We will leave at first light.”

  As he finishes, he turns, taking his colleagues with him, and returns from the direction he came. Our group of initiates immediately bursts into a frenzy of conversations. I look over at Rayfe standing next to me. Unlike most of the others around us, he doesn’t look frantic.

  “I guess that means no partner training,” he remarks with a shrug. “I’m starving, let’s get over to the food before it is all gone.”

  “Are you seriously not worried or nervous?” I ask him, confused. Everyone else seems to be freaking out, and he is acting like nothing just happened. “If the trolls are marching for Sylvestra, your family could be in danger.”

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about yet,” he explains. “For now, I just want to eat and get moving. Sitting still is what is going to make me nervous.”

  I can’t tell if he is in denial, or simply that confident in the abilities of our army. Having seen the trolls up close, I can’t imagine the destruction they could cause to a major city. I just hope we make it in time to help. Our small group may not make a huge difference to our army’s numbers, but I need to be a part of this fight.

  We quickly eat, and then move back to our tent to gather our things. Because I am wearing everything that I own, I immediately set to tearing down the tent. Rayfe helps fold and flatten the tent on the ground, placing the supporting wooden sticks and rope in the center. After rolling it up into a tight bundle, we tie it off and stack it next to the other tents in a small horse-drawn cart that is slowly moving through the camp. Along with the tents, I see crates of bread and salted meat and several barrels of water.

  With the camp packed up and everyone gathered around the wagon, we prepare to set off. I adjust the belt of knives on my waist and instinctively check my sword on my hip. Sinking into my inner focus, I will the sword to take its short sword shape for traveling and watch the blade and scabbard shorten. I let out a relieved smile at the ease with which I can control the weapon, still unsure why sometimes it won’t obey my command. Rayfe stands beside me, a sword sheathed on each hip, his longbow strapped to his back and his quiver full of arrows.

  All eyes fall once again on Ambrosius as he stands on the cart so we all can see him.

  “Today, we march to fight for those who need us. This is what you have been training for. The battle will not be easy. It will test your courage and your skill. Some of you may not survive. But in the end we will prevail! And the trolls will soon learn what it means to fight the Reavers!”

  On Ambrosius’ command, we march out of the clearing and into the surrounding forest, ready to go to war.

  Let’s go hunt some trolls.

  Chapter 10

  As we walk, I take in as much of the forest as possible. The path cutting through the trees is just wide enough for a couple of people to stand shoulder to shoulder, so we walk in pairs. The dense foliage on either side of our procession, makes it impossible to see more than a few yards into the forest, but even with the limited visibility the forest teems with movement. Small rodents scurry across the ground and up the tree trunks. Bird calls break through the silent air all around us. If I look closely, I can even make out insects scuttling along the leaves of the underbrush.

  The canopy overhead blocks out most of the sunlight, the resulting gloom obliterating any way to ascertain where the sun sits in the sky overhead. The only indicator of the passage of time is my growling stomach, signaling it is time to stop for dinner. When the marching column ahead of me stops, I know my stomach clock was right. Because of the narrow path, we don’t break our marching formation or meals; we wait at a standstill along the path for food to be passed up to us from the cart. I take a much-needed drink from my waterskin and ravenously tear into the cold slice of meat and cheese that is thrust into my hand. As we eat, orders come down the line letting us know we will continue marching for several more hours before breaking for the night. There is a small clearing a few miles up ahead that will provide adequate space to set up tents.

  The only sounds along the path are the rustle of water skins and the noisy chewing and swallowing by the ravenous soldiers ahead and behind. Obviously, my stomach wasn’t the only one complaining. Within mere minutes we are moving again, and I resume my study of the landscape around me. Same trees. Same bird calls. Same rodents and insects. Everything is on repeat. As boredom sets in, my mind begins to wander. I start counting my steps, focusing on walking silently like Rayfe taught me, purposefully placing one foot in front of the other. Over and over again, slowly moving through the never-ending forest that all looks the same. I have no idea how far we have gone, or still must go.

  Up to this point, other than the constant thrum of the forest around us, and the tramp of hundreds of feet, our journey has been quiet. The anticipation of an impending battle and worries about the elves’ families have kept conversation to a minimum. If I listen closely, I can catch a whisper of someone talking here or there, but most of the time I only hear the sound of exhales. Not one to handle boredom well, I turn toward Rayfe marching at my side and discover he is already looking back at me. I open my mouth to ask him more about his life in this forest when out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of black toward the front of our group.

  “What was that?” I blurt out, startled. “Something is moving parallel to us.”

  “Are you sure? I haven’t seen anything unusual,” Rayfe answers, peering into the gloom. “There are tons of animals in the forest, it was probably just a rabbit or bird or something.”

  “It looked way too big to be a rabbit or a bird. What else lives in this forest?”

  He expression turns puzzled as he tries to work through my question. Suddenly, I hear a scream from the back of the group.

  The calm, quiet march through the woods immediately shifts into paranoia and fear. No one around me has any idea what has happened. Whispers fill the air, and soon, whispers turn to shouting as voices drown out the sounds of the forest I had been hearing for hours. As I look around, trying to catch sight of anything to indicate what is happening, another shriek rips through the air. This time it comes from much closer, in the front half of the group. The scream travels away from the column and abruptly ends in the trees out of sight. The sound of a sword leaving its scabbard whistles beside me, and I turn to see Rayfe drawing his blades. I slide my own sword out of its scabbard, not sure what unknown enemy we are about to face. All around me, blades are at the ready as full-blown panic begins to set in.

  “Watch to your side,” Rayfe instructs me. “I’ll watch mine. Yell if you see anything. Tell the others to do the same.”

  I nod and swivel my head back to the trees, scanning the foliage for any sign of the invisible killer. Clenching and relaxing my fingers wrapped around the handle of my sword, I keep searching. Trusting in Rayfe to protect my back, I never take my eyes off the trees. Faster than my eyes can follow, a black streak flashes in front of me. I reflexively yell out, but by the time the sound leaves my mouth, an elf directly in front of me has already been dragged into the woods, screaming. I hear a horrible tearing sound, and his shrieks stop instantly. My breath comes faster and faster and chills run from the top of my neck all the way down my spine.
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  What kind of evil is this?

  Hyperventilating with panic, I struggle to stand upright and my vision starts to blur. I sway side to side, feeling faint as gold pinpricks gather in the corners of my eyes. Suddenly, I feel Rayfe’s hands on my shoulders, steadying me. I blink rapidly to clear my vision, and he is staring into my eyes. I draw a small comfort in his grip, and manage to slow my breathing, just slightly.

  “Stay with me,” Rayfe says, still holding each of my shoulders tightly in a hand. My vision has completely cleared. I can feel my heart trying to explode out of my chest, but I can stand on my own now. “Did you see it?”

  “No,” I say fearfully. I take a breath, trying to calm myself further. The entire group around me has broken into a frenzy of voices, and movement. Weapons in hands, everyone spins and turns, looking in all directions for the next attack. “It moved too fast. It was black, and huge. It just grabbed him and dragged him back into the trees.”

  “Form a line!” Rayfe yells up and down the column. “Weapons ready. Don’t let it break through.”

  I am still turned toward the middle of the path, facing Rayfe, when I feel a rumble in my chest. The commotion around me makes it impossible to hear anything, but I feel the deep vibration emanating from the forest in front of me. I look past Rayfe and see two yellow eyes staring at me from just inside the trees. The jet-black body and face of the monstrous creature appear as an amorphous shape within the darkness of the forest, but those evil eyes pierce right through me as I maintain eye contact. Paralyzed in horror, I can’t look away as the yellow glowing spheres inch closer to the tree line. Seeing my stare, Rayfe drops into a battle ready stance and slowly turns to face the impossibly deep growl coming from behind him. I command my sword to grow to its full two-handed size, my eyes never leaving those gold orbs.

  In a blur of motion faster than I thought possible, the creature leaps, its eyes still locked on mine. I cry out as death hurtles toward me. Raising my sword, I somehow manage to dodge the death leap, swinging my sword as I do. The creature emits a sharp cry of pain as it lands in the trees on the other side of the path behind me. Already spinning around, I frantically search the trees trying to find it before it attacks again.

  “I think I hurt it!” I yell at Rayfe, who moves to stand beside me, facing the forest.

  “Be ready,” he grunts. “It might come back.”

  As if on que, the nightmare creature streaks back out of the trees, moving straight for us. Unable to get out of the way, I throw my sword up in between us, instinctively closing my eyes. A huge mass slams into me, knocking me off my feet, and everything goes black as a crushing weight flattens me into the ground.

  As my senses come back, the first thing I feel is a crushing pain in my lungs. Each ragged breath is agony, but I force my lungs to fill again and again. Gradually, breathing becomes easier as the pain in my chest subsides. The other thing I notice, as I lie on the ground with my eyes still squeezed shut, is the stickiness. A warm viscous substance covers me. My clothes stick to my body like I have been bathed in tree sap. I finally open my eyes as a hand grips my shoulder. Once the stars have cleared behind my eyes, the shapes of bodies standing over me come into focus. Ambrosius kneels over me, his hand still resting on my shoulder. I see Rayfe behind him, looking down at me with concern, and a crowd has gathered around us.

  “Wha- What happened?” I stutter, my words scratching out of my throat like I haven’t talked in days. “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. It’s gone, Lykara,” Ambrosius answers softly. He glances over his shoulder and then back down at me. “You took care of that for us.”

  Confused, I sit up slowly, my chest burning and my shirt clinging to me. Following Ambrosius’ gaze, my eyes land on a massive black heap on the ground, with several members of our group standing around it.

  “You killed it,” Rayfe says, his tone somber.

  “What was it?” I ask, my eyes riveted on the shape, trying to make out any details I can, but all I see is a black body.

  “A jungle cat,” Ambrosius explains, standing back up. He offers me his hand to help me up, which I gladly accept. With his help, I gently pull myself to my feet. “We don’t see them very often. We must have walked into its territory. It killed three of us before you brought it down.”

  My head is clearer now that I am standing, and I finally grasp that I somehow killed the giant predator. A quick glance confirms the source of the stickiness on my shirt—blood. I am literally covered in it.. A quick assessment reveals that aside from some minor cuts and scrapes, and the pain in my chest, I am uninjured. The blood must be the cat’s. Rayfe steps forward and hands me my sword, also covered in blood.

  “You dropped this when the cat fell on top of you,” Rayfe says, no hint of bravado or the all too familiar cockiness in his voice. “You were lucky it leaped directly onto the blade, cutting right through its heart.”

  “Thank you.” I reach for the sword with a still shaking hand.

  [‘Are there more of those things out there?” an anonymous voice asks from the crowd.

  “Not anywhere close,” Ambrosius answers. “These cats are solitary creatures and their territories stretch for miles. They don’t wander into each other’s territory because it usually ends in one or both of their deaths.”

  Even though Ambrosius assures us we likely won’t encounter another jungle cat on our journey, no one is ready to let their guard down. We can’t afford to lose any more soldiers on this journey.

  This delay has cost us a significant amount of time. Needing to cover distance as quickly as possible to reach the clearing for the night, Ambrosius gets us back on the move immediately. The next couple of hours march are full of fear. Every sound coming from the trees causes a moment of worry. Every shadow causes warriors to jump. Every single eye is trained on the trees, and every weapon is drawn and at the ready. When we finally reach the designated clearing, a collective sigh of relief filters through our line. The clearing, a natural hole cut out of the trees on the path, is much smaller than the one at the training grounds but is big enough to hold all of our tents. Just thinking about the tent sends exhaustion washing over me. The adrenaline of the attack has worn off, and the pain from the huge cat falling on top of me beats at the fiber of my being.

  “We are on watch in shifts tonight,” Ambrosius orders. “Four soldiers at a time, in two-hour shifts.”

  Rayfe is selected for a shift in the middle of the night, but I am not. It is all I can do to help set up the tent before I crawl inside my bedroll and fall into a dreamless slumber.

  I wake from my sleep in the morning feeling well rested. The pain in my chest from the attack has faded to a dull ache, but I am so stiff I can barely move.

  What the hell?

  The blood on my clothes has dried rock hard, and it cracks when I move my arms. Unfortunately, there is no place to wash it—or my body. I will have to wear the gory thing for a while. I strip it off and crumple it tight, rolling it between my hands to break up the stiff residue on the cloth. Red powder sifts to the ground, but the end result isn’t much better. I see the basin of water Rayfe has left me from his water skin, I gratefully wet a rag and wipe the blood as best as I can from my face and arms. I put my crusty clothes back on and hope that I don’t smell as bad as I imagine.

  The start of the day’s journey feels much like the end of yesterday’s. Everyone is still on edge, reacting to every little thing around us. As the day goes on though, and nothing out of the ordinary happens, the nerves begin to die down. We are all still alert, but the normal sounds of the forest don’t startle me like they had earlier. I no longer feel as enchanted by the woods and wildlife around me, but I don’t fear an attack by a wild predator behind every tree anymore either.

  As day turns to dusk, Rayfe and I share stories about our past. Martin and Xander march behind us, and the four of us walk easily, enjoying each other’s company and letting the fear of the dangers from the day before evaporate. At what feels like
sunset, but is impossible to really know, Ambrosius stops us for the night. We weren’t lucky enough to find another clearing to camp in, so we have to set up camp on the path. Our tents stretch in a single file line that continues past where my eyes can see. To compensate for the vastly increased perimeter of our camp, the night watch is increased, and I am called for the last watch of the night.

  I sleep deeply until Horace’s giant hand gently shakes me awake.

  “Your watch,” he whispers, trying not to wake Rayfe beside me. He lets out a silent yawn and crawls out of the tent. I follow him out and walk a few paces into the trees. Because we have such a large area to watch over in our current sleeping arrangement, I slowly walk my designated distance of the perimeter of the camp, scanning outward for any signs of trouble. If the path has been dark, the forest off the path is even darker, and I struggle to see anything more than a few feet away from me. I strain my ears, listening for sounds of trouble, and keep walking, a silent guardian in the darkness. Two hours pass without incident, and as I exit the trees back into the camp, the lightening of the darkness is the only indication that morning has come.

  The third day’s march passes uneventfully, except for a close call with a patch of poisonous mushrooms that someone had picked. Luckily, one of the forest elves had spotted them before anyone had taken a bite, and they were quickly discarded.

  The endless trees pressing in on both sides of me for days on end is beginning to wear on me. Living in the forest, with free reign of the terrain might be different, but staying on this single straight path is driving me crazy. So, when we reach a hole in the forest off to the side of the path that leads to a small clearing dominated by the largest tree I have ever seen, which Ambrosius informs us, marks the last hour of our time in the forest, I am flooded with a sense of relief.