by P D Atkerson
Begging him to stay, or to take them with him. He wasn't sure which. But in his head, he could hear them crying out to him for help.
His chest squeezed and he grimaced, as he wondered how many people had lost their lives to these dark woods. He took in a deep breath and rode on. With every second that passed, the trees around him grew thicker and thicker, until he could have reached out on both sides of him and touched the Dubh-trees' cold, black bark.
Aroron narrowed his eyes, as he tried in vain to find the path again. But now it was nothing but a moving gray haze all around him. After a few minutes he gave up and closed his eyes. He just hoped somehow the horse would be able to find its way back out of the forest.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Aroron saw movement, he quickly turned his head. Aroron could have sworn there was someone, or something riding through the woods not more than five feet to his right. The thudding of his horse's hooves sounded strange as well. But just as fast as he saw it, whatever it was, was gone. Leaving behind nothing but shadowy darkness.
He turned forwards again, just in time to see a thin black line flying towards him. He tried to move out of the way, but it was too late. The branch slashed into Aroron's face, creating a deep gash across his left cheek. Blood dripped down his chin and soaked into his cloak. He barely felt it, his cheek was so numb from the cold wind blowing against him. He was certain things couldn't get any worse!
That's when the snow began to fall.
With how thick the trees grew together, Aroron hadn't imagined that snow could find its way through the many branches, but somehow it did, and in great thickness too. It came upon him quickly, like a sheet of solid white. Aroron dug his heels in and pushed the horse on. He didn't like not being able to see well, but he knew if he didn't move, he might as well kill himself.
If he didn't make it out, the woods or the Warriors would kill him.
The horse stumbled, its hoof catching on a buried root. It quickly regained its footing and galloped on. It was as if the horse wanted out of the forest as fast as Aroron did and he wondered if it could sense something he couldn't. He swallowed and glanced behind them, but he couldn't see anything.
Soon, the snowflakes grew so thick, he had no choice but to let his horse slow down to barely a trot. He knew it was trying to keep them from hitting into the low hanging branches that hung all around them, barely visible in the swirling snow. They appeared and disappeared in glimpses of movement. Luckily none of them touched him, as he rode on. He was glad he didn't have to add to his already scarred face. One cut was enough for him and he didn't care to skewer himself on one either.
He closed his eyes, as exhaustion swept over him and entered his bones. Even though the cold made him numb, he still hurt all over from everything he'd been through. His wrists were sore from King Munay's burns.
Well at least if the snow's slowing me down, it probably means it's slowing the Warriors down too. Aroron thought to himself, as he looked at the whiteness around him. Or at least that's what he hoped for.
But the snow was also making Aroron very cold, as it clung to him and his clothing. He tried to stretch his fingers, but he couldn't even feel them, as he tried to unwrap them from the reins. He shivered and hoped he didn't lose his fingers for good. They were turning purple and blue all over and felt like needles were poking into them. Shaking his hands out, Aroron tried to warm himself up. But it didn't do much good. The cloak he wore wasn't meant for long rides through snow, and he could feel it in his freezing bones.
As he rode on, Aroron started to wonder if he'd lost the path, he could barely see anything around him. Add to that, the fact that he had to stay low in the saddle, to keep his head from being broken off by one of the many branches passing above him. With a whoosh, another branch passed over head. Was he ever going to make it out of the woods? If he did, he wondered if he'd ever be able to enter a forest again. The thought turned his blood cold. This dark and creepy forest was the last place he wanted to die.
Aroron's body trembled, as the snow on his cloak began to melt, lowering his body temperature even more. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand being out in this snow storm! Ironic to think King Munay could control fire and would probably have been fine with burning Aroron alive, yet here he was, freezing to death. Life wasn't very fair, but it did like making jokes. In fact, Aroron's whole life was a joke.
He leaned forwards and rested his head against the horse's mane. The hair tickled his nose, he started to feel weird and remembered why his father hadn't let him have a horse. He tried to plug it, but when he brought his hand to his face, it was too late. His sneeze echoed through the woods, seeming to grow louder, until it finally faded away. If there was a warrior nearby, his stupid allergies just told them exactly where he was. With a pounding heart, Aroron glanced around him. With the snow still falling thick, there was no way he could tell if he was being followed or not.
His fears were confirmed by the snapping of a tree branch. Aroron quickly turned towards the sound, his eyes darting around, just as a dark shadow flashed across his vision. There it is again! He thought to himself. This time he was sure he'd seen a dark horse darting through the trees next to him.
There was a flash of light, and he saw the horse, and knew on its back rode a Loyal Warrior. He could see the flutter of red from his cloak, just as the light faded again. Even if it wasn't for the red cloak, Aroron knew it was a Loyal Warrior, there wasn't anyone else stupid enough to be out in the woods in the day time, let alone at night.
The Warrior's horse's hooves echoed in his ears, but Aroron couldn’t allow himself to think about how close the rider was getting to him. Or what the Warrior would do to him, if he did catch him. If Aroron allowed himself to think like that, he wasn’t sure he would be able to continue on and he knew he needed to get going, fast!
It was his only hope, and what kept him going, as the snow began to turn to a downpour of rain. The hard droplets of water pounded against Aroron's face, pouring into his eyes. Blinding him only for a few seconds. But it was all the time the Loyal Warrior needed.
The Loyal Warrior moved closer and closer. Aroron and the warrior were riding side by side, just a few feet apart. Aroron could feel the warmth coming from the beast's body. Unlike his horse, it thrived in the cold darkness of the Dubh-Woods.
The horses' hooves' beat in unison, as tree after tree flashed between them. But no matter how hard Aroron pushed his horse, it couldn’t pull ahead of the warrior. For what seemed like an eternity, they rode on, neck and neck. Not one or the other pulling in front. His heart was pounding as he watched the Warrior. How on earth was he going to get away from him? Each time he turned towards the left, the Warrior did the same. It was almost as if he could sense what Aroron was going to do, even before he knew himself.
He guessed it would be easy enough to jump the warrior from this distance. Aroron would have to time it right. He knew it was a crazy idea, but he wasn't about to give himself up without a fight. If that meant he had to take the warrior down, he would do it. Aroron pulled on the reins and brought himself closer to the Warrior's horse. He could hear the sound of the horse panting. Small puffs of fog rose up from the horse's nostrils, causing the black beast to look even more sinister than it had before.
His heart skipped a beat, as he readied himself.
The warrior turned towards him, and for a second their eyes locked. The Warrior's metal mask hid most of his face.
At the same time, Aroron let go of the reins and jumped towards the Warrior. He grabbed him and they both went flying from the saddle, barely missing the horses' pounding hooves, as they tumbled to the ground. Snow flew around them, as they struggled for the upper hand.
Aroron slammed the Warrior's head into the ground, momentarily stunning him. And in those seconds, he was on top. Covered in a coating of the white powder. Small pockets of snow clung to his hair and face. Frost had formed on his eyelashes. It made him look strange and ghostly, as he pinned the warrior to the
ground.
Soaking wet and gasping for breath, Aroron pressed his knees into the Warrior's chest pinning him down. Aroron could hear him gasping for breath beneath him. He quickly grabbed one of the short knives out of his belt and held it against the warrior's neck. He began to press down, until he was sure he would draw blood soon. "Give me a reason I shouldn't kill you right here and now!" Aroron hissed into the warrior's masked face.
Something in him truly wanted to kill him, as his anger towards King Munay bubbled to the top and overflowed, taking control of Aroron.
"I'll give you one, if you get off me!" The Warrior growled, fumbling with his helmet, trying to take it off. Finally, he grabbed a hold of the latch and pulled it off, revealing the short red hair and twinkling green eyes of a boy not more than thirteen years old. His face was still rosy with the color of youth.
“Prince Enrick?” Aroron’s jaw dropped and he stared down at the boy. His anger was instantly extinguished. “What are you doing here?” He asked, pushing himself off him. The prince looked odd in the Loyal Warrior getup. Aroron didn't even know he wore armor.
Enrick and Aroron were close in age and even though there was a big gap between their social levels, there were no other children in the castle, so they’d become friends long ago. He was one of the few people Aroron still trusted. He was also one of Enrick's only friends. A prince who would rather spend time with his many pets, than with other people. Aroron wondered if he thought of him as a pet too.
“Close your mouth, you look like an idiot.” Enrick said, laughing again as he brushed the snow off his cloak and stood up. "Throwing me off my horse, wasn't a very nice way of saying hello."
Aroron couldn't help smiling. He was glad it was a friend and not a warrior that would have killed him on sight. “What are you doing out here?” He asked again, as a mixture of emotions hit him. Sure, he was glad Enrick was there, but it was also a very stupid thing to do.
King Munay wouldn't be happy about it, though Aroron doubted he'd hurt his own son. He was sure the Royal Court wouldn't allow it.
“I couldn’t leave all the fun of hunting you to my father’s men, now could I?” Enrick asked, laughing. He winked and turned away. "Besides, Dasety sent me out here to make sure you didn't get yourself killed. You know, I think he might still think you should live. Unlike my father."
"You really shouldn't have come, Enrick. I'm glad you did, but if anything happens to you..." Aroron's voice trailed off as he turned away.
He couldn't even think about how he would feel if anything happened to him. He was his best friend, and in some ways, he was like a brother to him.
"It was my choice, Aroron," Enrick said, his voice just above a whisper. "I wasn't about to leave you out here alone and it wasn't like Dasety could come out here himself." He turned towards Aroron and frowned. "What did you do to yourself?" He asked, as he reached up towards Aroron's cheek, where the deep red scar was cut into his pale skin.
"A stupid branch cut into me, that's all," Aroron mumbled, as he reached up and rubbed the spot. It was still raw feeling, and when he touched it, pain shot through his face and his eyes started to water.
"Good grief, man! You're freezing cold!" Enrick said, pulling away. "You really shouldn't be out here much longer. You're as wet, as a dog's nose. Why don't you come back to the Dark Castle? I could speak to my father on your behalf."
Aroron took a step back from the prince. "Have you lost your mind?!" He snapped. "Your father would love to have me back there, so he can burn me to death! Is that what you want to happen to me?" Aroron asked, looking Enrick in the face, he could tell the Prince was hurt by his words.
"I just don't want to see you get hurt. You're the only friend I have."
"And you are mine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just can't go back to the castle," he said, as he turned away and looked into the darkness of the Dubh-Woods, for some reason, it grew deeper, as if the darkness itself was alive.
"What did you do to enrage my father so?" Enrick asked, as he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it out as he brushed away the snow. "I mean, I know he has a short temper, but still..." He rubbed his arm and sighed. "I guess he can be mean sometimes."
"Enrick, quiet!" Aroron hissed, as he held up a hand and silenced his friend. A feeling of fear swept over him and he had no idea why, but he knew something terrible was coming for them if they stayed much longer. That's when he remembered his uncle's warning about stopping in the woods. A warning he hadn't followed, but now was wishing he had.
There was a loud shriek followed by several more and instantly the woods grew eerily silent. A shiver ran up and down Aroron's spine. "What was that?" Aroron asked, his eyes darting from side to side. Even though it had stopped snowing, he couldn't see anything in the trees. The darkness was too thick.
"That was the call of a Dubh-Panther, and we need to leave, right now!" Enrick answered, as he swiftly pulled himself into the saddle and turned towards Aroron. "Quick, saddle up!" He yelled.
Aroron didn't have to be told twice, he knew by the sound of Enrick's voice, they needed to move quickly.
Aroron quickly mounted his horse, but even as he was pulling himself into the saddle, he knew it was a bad idea. The horse's ears were already pinned back, and its whole body was tense. Even its eyes were wide with fright. But what choice did he have?
None. Aroron was only in the saddle a moment before the horse bucked, throwing him from the saddle. He slammed into the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. The horse whinnied sharply, then bolted forwards and vanished into the darkness.
Enrick's horse shot toward Aroron, as he began to rise to his feet again. Enrick grabbed his hand and quickly pulled him up into the saddle behind him. They were racing through the woods, the horse dodging right and left. Aroron wondered how Enrick had so much control over his horse.
It was with dread, Aroron realized they were headed back towards the Dark Castle.
Maybe he thought he could talk his father into letting Aroron live, maybe he wasn't thinking. But it didn't matter, there was nothing he could do about it.
They rode as fast as they could, the horse's hooves smashing through the snow. A white cloud flew behind them. But still, Aroron was sure he could hear the panther following close behind them. Enrick growled and shook his head. "There's no way we can out run those things, we're too heavy and they're on to the horse's scent, there's no way we can break it. I'm afraid they might track us forever."
"There is a way to lose them," Aroron mumbled, as he quickly glanced around him. He wasn't about to let Prince Enrick die because he had come to help him. If there was a way, he could save him, he would. Even if that meant Aroron had to let himself die instead of him.
Aroron knew what he had to do. He would give the Panthers a stronger and easier scent to follow. Enrick would get away, but he knew there was no hope for him.
But if he died, he would see his father and mother again, at least that's what he hoped. First, he was going to have to figure out a way to get off the back of the horse, without Enrick realizing it. If he knew his friend, he wouldn't continue without him. After all, he'd entered the Dubh-Woods just to help him. He was a good friend and Aroron wasn't going to let him die because of that.
Just then, a branch flew over their heads. That gave Aroron an idea. He could use the branch to pull himself off the horse and hopefully Enrick wouldn't notice. Aroron watched as branch after branch flew over his head, but each time he couldn't bring himself to grab a hold of it. He knew if he didn't time it just right, he would rip his arms right out of their sockets. He doubted breaking both of his arms would help him at all.
"Goodbye, Enrick," Aroron whispered, as he pulled his gloves on tighter. Then, with one last deep breath, he reached up and grabbed a hold of the branch. Quickly, he lifted himself out of his saddle. He let go and dropped to the ground, the snow crunching beneath his feet. Enrick hadn't even noticed. He continued his ride out of the woods.
With
any luck, he wouldn't know Aroron was gone until he was far away, and it was too late for him to turn around and find him. Not that there would be much left to find, besides blood stained snow. Hopefully Prince Enrick would get back to the Dark Castle safely.
"This was a great idea, Aroron!" He mumbled to himself, as he turned away from the path Enrick was taking and back towards the sound of the Dubh-Panthers he knew would find him soon. "You really messed things up and now you're going to die for it, just like your father." None of it mattered now. He'd made his choice. Now he just needed to make his scent stronger than that of Enrick and his horse and he knew how.
As his hand wrapped around the handle, a slight tingle spread through his body.
The metal rang out, as Aroron slowly drew his sword from its scabbard. His heart beat faster, as he fingered the sword. There was no reason to wait. Aroron stood there and held the blade against his hand. “Creator, if you’re real, help me now.” He whispered, as he stared down at his hand. For one heartbeat, Aroron hesitated, then he sliced the blade across his hand. He groaned and bit his lip, as pain shot through him. Blood started to ooze out of the cut and dripped to the ground.
Aroron glanced down. But what he noticed wasn't the blood. No, what he saw was a dozen green and blue glowing flowers. But they weren't the only thing glowing. The snow glowed and it was coming from the sword in his hand. At first, he wondered if he was seeing things, but he wasn't. The sword was indeed glowing, the light reflecting off the snow-covered ground. Growing stronger every second. And soon he could see the woods around him clearly.
He held onto the sword with both hands and raised it into the air. "Come on!" he snapped. "Come and get me, you little devils!" Blood dripped down Aroron's hand and stained the blanket of snow at his feet, as he stood there waiting for the Panthers to find him. Even if he died, he was going to make sure he took a few of them with him. He held his sword tightly and readied himself for the attack.
