Darkness Shall Fall

by Alister E. McGrath

  THE

  AEDYN

  CHRONICLES

  BOOK THREE

  DARKNESS SHALL FALL

  Alister McGrath

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  About the Authors

  Other Books by Alister McGrath

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  CHAPTER

  1

  “How far will it spread?” Gregory asked.

  Peter Grant didn’t take his eyes off the monstrous black cloud billowing from the volcano over the island of Khemia. “I don’t know,” Peter said. “Maybe it will cover the whole sky.”

  The two friends stood on a slight rise in the forest, gazing beyond the trees, across the island, at the volcano. An orange glow marked its mouth, where lava still spewed in a slow, torrential flow. Above the volcano the haze of spreading darkness was evident even in the moonlight, like an ink stain spreading across the night sky, blotting out the stars.

  “Scientists believe that a cloud like this wiped out the dinosaurs,” Peter said, his eyes mesmerized by the ever-growing dark haze of ash rising above the volcano. “Only it wasn’t from a volcano, but a massive asteroid that struck the ocean just off the Yucatan Peninsula sixty-five million years ago. Gregory, are you even listening to me?”

  But Gregory’s gaze had drifted toward the ground where he was busy foraging. “I’m trying not to,” he said.

  Peter stepped down off the ridge and joined Gregory’s search of the forest floor. “Well, you should listen. Science is what separates us from the lower mammals.”

  “Hopefully I am the only one listening to you,” Gregory hissed. “Keep your voice down, already.”

  “Right,” Peter whispered, scanning the moonlit forest as if Gul’nog might swarm them any moment. “I forgot.” Before his transport from London to the mysterious world of Aedyn and the island of Khemia, he’d never had to worry about such things.

  Gregory pointed. “There!”

  Peter ducked. “You see one?”

  In the darkness, the outline of Gregory’s arm was barely visible. “At least one,” he said. He strode forward and knelt beside something on the turf.

  Peter’s heart thumped in his chest. A Gul’nog? Here? Before Peter had time to react, Gregory pulled his small knife — and sliced at the dirt. Peter almost laughed in relief. It wasn’t one of the horrible, eight-feet-tall creatures ready to tear their limbs off. Gregory had found a fungus. Fungi.

  Mushrooms, to be exact.

  “Bring me your bag.” Gregory cut the mushrooms with his small knife and dropped them into Peter’s canvas sack. He wiped the blade and slid it back into the leather scabbard on his belt.

  “How many, Gregory?” Peter was still spooked, so he kept his voice soft in his companion’s ear.

  “Twelve.”

  Peter’s shoulders dropped a little. “All right,” he said. “Let’s find the others. Maybe they’ve had better luck.”

  They rose and went back the way they had come. They knew these woods — knew how to pass through without being heard. They knew how to move with the shadows, slipping in between the branches of the trees like wraiths. They knew where it was safe to step and where a misplaced foot might suck a man into a hidden bog. They had wandered these woods every night for two months.

  The shadow — the volcano cloud — spread every day, nearly reaching the horizon, growing thicker and blacker. Even in the daylight it blocked out the sun, leaving the landscape an ashen, dirty gray. Not that they’d seen it in daylight lately. It had been weeks since they had been outside during the day.

  A twig snapped, and Gregory put out an arm, stopping Peter in his tracks. They waited, trying not to breathe. Peter prayed they were downwind of anything that could sniff them out.

  Another snap, and another. Something was out there. And it was getting closer.

  Only two steps away from Peter stood a great tree, its trunk so thick that both he and Gregory could not have reached around it. Peter crouched low and curled himself tightly into a ball, nestling himself between two of the massive tree roots. Though Gregory made no sound, Peter saw that he had done the same.

  They waited there, Peter hardly breathing, willing his heart to stop pounding. But the footsteps grew closer.

  Whoever or whatever it was moved slowly — too slowly just to be passing by. It must have been searching for something. Or someone.

  Peter risked a peek. There, not more than twenty feet from the place where they crouched, a creature of Shadow lifted its head and drank in the stale air of the forest. It listened, sniffing, breathing in the scent of man. With dread sinking deep into his stomach, Peter realized the truth: it was a Gul’nog, and it knew they were there.

  In the dark months since Peter had first come to Khemia, he had grown to fear these monsters more and more. They thrived on the stale, acrid air of the place, growing stronger as the days pressed on. The Gul’nog were monsters out of some nightmare — their skin marked by welts and scars, their massive limbs the size of small trees. Peter sometimes thought they looked like gnarled old trees themselves.

  The Gul’nog were the reason for these midnight raids. Peter and a small band of men went out each evening, foraging for food and unspoiled water for those who had lived through the volcano blast. Not one of the refugees ever forgot that the only reason they were still alive was that the Gul’nog had not yet discovered their hiding place.

  But the monsters knew they were still on the island — knew that some of them had survived the eruption — and so they searched.

  Peter willed himself to become smaller as he shrank back into the tree’s roots. The bark cut into his skin. It was always this way when the Gul’nog were near — always this paralyzing fear.

  Peter watched in horror as the monster’s head turned toward them. The Gul’nog’s lips curled up in a snarl as it started forward. Heaven help him: the monster had picked up their scent. It was coming for them.

  Should they wait here to die or try to run? Peter had escaped from a Gul’nog once before by staying hidden in the trees and then ducking into a cave, but the only cave nearby — the only cave he could get to in time — was the cave where Peter’s sister, Julia, his stepsister, Louisa, and the remnant of the people of Aedyn were hiding. Peter squeezed his eyes shut tight and prayed that death would be quick.

  Then the Gul’nog was upon them.

  It reached Gregory first. Its fist came out and gripped Gregory’s arm in a death vice, squeezing until he cried out in agony. Peter could hear the bones crunching.

  A strange thought leapt into his mind: Leave Gregory! The thing will start eating him, and you’ll have time to get away.

  He pulled his feet beneath him and actually sprang up to flee.

  The Gul’nog whipped around to face him, surprised. But it quickly recovered and snarled at Peter.

  His moment to escape was gone. Whether it was an act of heroism or because he had no other choice, Peter leapt forward and lashed out at the monster. It dropped Gregory and squared off against Peter.

  This was it. He was going to be ripped to pieces and eaten by a — his thoughts cut off suddenly as there came a low, rumbling bellow. Peter felt the sound as much as he heard it. It reverberated ins
ide his skin, shaking him to his bones, and he dropped to the ground. It was an alien noise, foreign to his ears, and he shuddered at its force.

  At the sound, the Gul’nog lifted its head, and answering some call that only he seemed to understand, turned from Peter and ran through the trees the way he had come.

  Peter’s pulse raced, and more than a few moments passed before he could breathe again.

  “Peter?” Gregory’s whisper was so quiet it might have been a leaf quivering on the wind.

  “It’s all right now,” Peter said, dizzy with shame at nearly leaving his friend to save himself. Was he becoming just as bad as the evil creatures who hunted them? “Thought we were done for.”

  “And I thought — ow!” Gregory grabbed at his shoulder and dropped to his knees.

  “Your arm!” Peter stood, brushed the broken bark and twigs off his clothing, and reached out a hand.

  “Broken, I think,” said Gregory, biting his tongue between his teeth. “I’ll be all right. We have to get back — find the others.”

  Peter grasped Gregory’s good arm and helped him to his feet.

  “Don’t forget the mushrooms.”

  “Right.” Peter grabbed the bag from the ground.

  “What made it leave?” Gregory asked through gritted teeth.

  “Some sort of horn, I think.” Gregory stumbled and Peter grabbed his bad arm, causing Gregory to cry out in pain.

  They made their way through the dense forest for another ten minutes. Peter knew Gregory would be going into shock soon — if he hadn’t already — though he continued forward. At length, they emerged into a small clearing, on the edges of which waited a group of bedraggled men. The other foragers. They brightened when they saw Peter and Gregory coming in from the trees.

  “We heard something in the forest,” Orrin said. “We thought—”

  “We had some trouble,” Peter said, nodding to Gregory. He scanned the group. “Are all returned?”

  Orrin nodded. “Not much but leaves, nuts, and mushrooms.”

  Peter sighed. It had not, he thought ruefully, been a good night for foraging. But no matter about that — the Gul’nog knew their area now. A full search party would probably be arriving soon. They would have to move again. And Gregory needed care. They had to get back to the others.

  The ten men walked single file, making their way through the shadows and back to the cave. Peter could hear Gregory panting and hissing, evidently in great pain. But Gregory kept the agony to himself. If only they could all be so strong.

  The last move had almost been too much for some of the younger children, and he was loath to attempt another so soon. Peter pushed the thought from his mind as he approached the cave entrance hidden deep in the crags of the cliff. Again he marveled that the cliff face in front of him concealed its entrance. It looked like bare rock to him, with only the occasional spray of vines here and there. If he hadn’t already known its location, he never would have found it in the darkness. Peter squeezed sideways through the narrow opening, shimmying between the tight walls of rock that closed him in on either side. In a strange way, it was a good thing they were running out of food. If they’d been feasting every day, they wouldn’t be able to get in or out of their hideout. It was some small comfort that no Gul’nog would be able to squeeze through the opening. Though the monsters would probably just toss a few lit torches inside and smoke them out. He tried not to think about that.

  Perhaps you’ve explored a large cave before. If so, you know the feeling of weight that crushes in, around you and over you, especially if you have to squeeze through a tight spot. You get the feeling that if you become stuck, there will be no rescue. It’s not like someone can just take the cave walls away to pull you free. That’s how Peter felt as he scraped along the passage.

  There was a dampness in the tunnel that turned his lungs into a sponge, soaking in the stale, wet air. He held his breath, trying not to think of the word “coffin” as he pushed himself through the passage’s twists and turns. Finally, the tunnel opened into a large, open room lit by a fire. Not quite cheery, but warm nonetheless.

  The smoke worried them at first. Would it suffocate them? Or waft skyward and signal their location to the Gul’nog? But evidently narrow flues and crannies made the smoke dissipate and carried it far enough away so that it had not revealed their location. Yet.

  Peter stepped into the central room and found himself confronted by a young woman, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders and her face flushed red from the great fire in the center of the cavern.

  “Well?” she demanded, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What did you find?”

  CHAPTER

  2

  Peter cleared his throat as he regarded his sister. After the long silence of the woods, he never felt comfortable speaking aloud. “We didn’t find much,” he said simply. “We … we weren’t able to stay as long as we’d hoped.”

  “Why not?” Julia asked. “What happened?”

  Peter stepped aside as Gregory and some of the others pushed through into the chamber.

  “Gregory,” Julia said, “what did you bring?”

  Gregory shrugged, then grimaced and held his shoulder.

  “What happened to you?” Julia asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Gregory said, waving her away.

  Peter collected the bags from Gregory and the other foragers and laid them on the cook table. “There isn’t much left.”

  Julia’s hand went to her mouth. “It’s not enough! Not nearly enough.” She stared at Peter accusingly. “There must be more food somewhere. There must be some plants we can eat, or rabbits or something. You’re just not looking hard enough. Tomorrow night … tomorrow you’ll have to keep looking.”

  She was using her snotty-little-sister voice. Had the situation been different, Peter might well have yelled back at her. But he just shook his head. “We can’t look for food tomorrow night. Tomorrow night we’ll probably be moving to a new hideout.”

  Julia looked alarmed. “What? But we just got moved in. Why would we have to — oh!”

  “We were chased tonight,” Peter said. He eased Gregory onto a stool. “A Gul’nog was out in the woods. It spotted us. Grabbed Gregory.” He thought again of his temptation to flee. Had the creature not seen him, would he have sacrificed Gregory to save himself? “Anyway, it was close to the cave — close enough for him to find it if he brings friends and comes looking again. We’ll have to be on the lookout.”

  Julia went to Gregory and touched his shoulder gently. “But how on earth did you escape?”

  Peter and Gregory exchanged glances. The other foragers had moved off to their sleeping areas, but they were still close enough to hear.

  “We … um …,” Gregory said.

  “Something scared it away,” Peter said. “Or called it away. Some signal horn, best I can figure. It went one way, and we went the other. But not before it had just about pulled Gregory’s arm off.”

  Julia nodded resolutely. “All right then, we’ll organize a watch. We can take turns waiting at the mouth of the cave. The guard will sound the alert if … if anything should come. Now Gregory, let’s get you taken care of.”

  By the light of the fire, Peter could see that Julia’s cheeks were drawn. She was beyond tired, he thought, exhausted from the long weeks of strain and uncertainty. They all were.

  Peter left his sister and withdrew to an outcropping of rock on the other side of the fire. It was colder here, and the air was wetter, but at least it was private. Here, he could have space to think.

  It had been two months — eight long, unending weeks — since the volcano had erupted, spewing toxic fumes into the air and killing so many of the good people of Aedyn. Many of the bad people too, including Captain Ceres and his henchmen. Peter felt it was up to him and Julia to get the remaining survivors off this cursed island of Khemia and return them to the land they knew first, the land the Lord of Hosts had created for these men, women, and children. Ae
dyn.

  In the days before the eruption, Peter thought he had found a way. An ancient prophecy told of a talisman — a talisman that would bring back the Lord of Hosts and defeat the darkness once and for all, if the two halves of the talisman were united. They had retrieved part of the talisman from Captain Ceres, and then Julia had discovered the other half of the talisman back in her bedroom at her grandmother’s house in London. Her grandmother had found it in her garden and had given Julia the pendant. Peter pressed his fists hard into his eyes at the memory and fought back the tears of frustration that stung their surface.

  It should have worked — it was supposed to have worked. But when he and Julia had pressed the two halves of the talisman together, there was no music, no bells, no blinding light. Nothing. And the Shadow had eclipsed the sky just the same, as if there had been no prophecy or talisman. As if the Lord of Hosts had abandoned them after all.

  Peter could feel people gazing at him. The foragers and the rest of the survivors stood scattered about the cavern now, talking quietly in small groups of five or six. Their shadows danced on the walls of the cave. The people of Aedyn had believed in him. He’d promised them he’d had a plan — and they had trusted him. But now they knew he was just as lost and confused as the rest of them.

  Movement caught his attention — a slim girl with gray eyes and golden hair. She moved gracefully among the people, kneeling beside one, laying a cool hand on the fevered forehead of another.

  Louisa.

  She seemed to be the only one unaffected by the air of this place. Since the eruption of the volcano she had grown only gentler and more joyful. Joy, Peter scoffed. What had any of them to be joyful about? But he couldn’t deny the transformation that had taken place in his stepsister.

  When the three of them first came to Aedyn together, tumbling into an icy stream and through the portal, Louisa had done little but weep and faint and carry on. She had been, frankly, quite impossible — nearly as beastly as when they’d been back home. But since the eruption she had not wept once. And the people seemed to trust her. She moved among them, calming their fears with words of comfort. She seemed able to reassure them in a way that Peter and Julia, who had fancied themselves Deliverers, could not. But how could they be Deliverers? Were they not mere teenagers, barely able to care for themselves back in London, let alone a cavern full of suffering survivors?