"Demons?" I reply. "Plural?"
He nods his head gravely. "It would seem that we share a common enemy, Magus. The demons have somehow managed to make it through the Arc."
"Then your men..." Owyn says, letting the words trail off.
"Turned," finishes the general bluntly. "They were bewitched by a powerful demon named Moloch."
"Moloch?" I ask, intrigued. "It has a name?"
"Yes," he says softly, gazing back into the flames. "A few weeks ago, one of our units stumbled upon something strange while on patrol near the border. They said that the Arc was shimmering. Rippling like a pond after you toss in a stone. During this odd occurrence, they witnessed a terrible creature step through the energy field and into our realm from the other side. Their report told us that it walked like a man, and yet it had horns, with skin and eyes as red as blood."
"A gorgon," I whisper, remembering an entry from the book.
He nods. "Behind it came a host of other creatures, over a hundred strong. My men tarried just long enough to overhear another demon refer to it as Moloch before they ran as fast as they could to come back here. At first, we did not believe their tale. How could we? Everyone knows that the Arc is indestructible. However, it was not long before we were forced to face these monsters on the field of battle. Many died in that fight..."
Owyn clears his throat in the ensuing silence, but his voice holds little sympathy. "Zara and I fought one of these creatures near Haven. We managed to kill it, but it was a tough fight."
"It was a darkhound," I add, backing up his claim.
"Then you two are luckier than most," he replies gravely. "For they tore through our ranks like scythe through wheat."
"I think that they have something of a weakness to magic," I say, reaching for my talisman out of habit. My stomach drops as my fingers find nothing but air.
"It doesn't surprise me. Regardless, I lost a whole unit of scouts to that red bastard Moloch. He turned them all into mindless slaves."
"This shimmering portal in the Arc," Elias says, his eyebrows knitting together with concern. "Are more demons coming through every day?"
"That's the strangest part about all of this," Pyke replies, rubbing his chin. "My scouts told me that once the last of Moloch's host came through, it closed up like it had never even been there at all. It was as if they opened a door and closed it behind them."
"Eleven Hells," Owyn says, chewing his lip.
Eleven Hells is right.
"Look," Pyke grunts, his tone becoming commanding once again. "It is fortunate that you stand before me so that I can confirm that we had nothing to do with these recent attacks. In fact, I believe that there is a way that we can help each other out."
Elias raises an eyebrow, but does not respond.
"No matter our political differences, we all live under the great radiant dome. That means the presence of demons threatens us all. I propose a truce between your people and mine, at least until we can defeat these demons and figure out how they are getting through."
Owyn looks completely floored by the general's suggestion, and I don't feel much different. The Nightingales and crown are sworn enemies, and have been at war for generations. Is it even possible for there to be peace between us?
Even Elias looks skeptical. "Why would you want a truce with the king?"
"Because I have faced these creatures in battle, and I know what they are capable of." He takes a step forward, and for a moment I see a flash of fear in his eyes. A recent memory, perhaps? "Apart, we have no hope of stopping the demons before they lay waste to this part of the country. But together, together we may just be able to defeat them."
Elias is silent for a few seconds. When he responds, his speech is slow and thoughtful. "Your words carry weight, General Pyke. And your testimony, along with that of my apprentice and Zara, is enough to make me consider this threat to be real. Unfortunately, I am only a ranger. I cannot speak for the king or those living in the Emberwood. I would be happy to relay this information to Governor Prior as soon as possible, though."
The general heaves a sigh. "I suppose that is as much as I can hope for." He walks over to the door and pounds his fist on it three times. The man Barus and two of his soldiers stride through, his face drawn like a freshly loaded crossbow.
"You will be our guests tonight," Pyke says, gesturing at the door. "We will see that you are given proper lodgings, then tomorrow we will send you on your way, along with our message. Hopefully, we can then resolve this matter once and for all."
Elias bows his head in respect. "That is very kind of you general."
I give him a slight curtsy.
Owyn does nothing.
After a brief explanation that we are to be escorted at all times by one of his men while we remain in Dagger's Point, he concludes our meeting and sends us on our way before turning back to pore over his maps.
We are brought out into the late evening air by Barus and our escorts, and find that we are standing on a wooden platform overlooking a courtyard carved into the face of a large bluff. Walls made from sharpened spears of wood line the fortification and people mill around campfires in the central area, eating and talking amiably with one another.
There must be well over a hundred of them, I think to myself in amazement. How could such a large group of people go unnoticed in the Emberwood?
"This way," Barus says gruffly as he leads us from the platform to a walkway built into the stone of the bluff.
I look up and see a massive stone formation looming above our heads, a slab of granite worn by wind and weather to resemble the appearance of a large blade. Well, I think to myself, I know where Dagger's point got its name, at least.
Our group of six makes its way across the walkway to a squat wooden building erected against one of the walls of spears. The roof is made of straw, and upon closer inspection, I see that mud has been used in place of mortar to keep the timbers and thatch together. A humble dwelling, to say the least.
"These will be your quarters while you stay at Dagger's Point," Barus explains, gesturing to the building with a gloved hand. "Dinner has already been served, so you will have to wait until sunrise to eat.
My heart sinks at the revelation, but I do not protest for fear of antagonizing them.
"If you need to make for the privy," he continues without missing a beat, "make sure that you bring one of us with you. You will have guards stationed outside your door all night."
Without another word he opens the door and steps aside, motioning for us to enter.
We do so silently, with the eyes of the entire courtyard on our backs.
The building, which I would probably compare to a cabin, is dimly lit by a fire pit dug into the dirt floor. The ceiling is low and the smell of soil and tree sap hangs heavily in the air. A few roughly hewn logs serve as the only furnishings in the main room, and three other rooms, which I assume are sleeping chambers, branch off through three of the four walls.
"Again," Barus says, a small grin splitting his bearded face, "if you must leave this area, let one of us know. Otherwise, you will be used for target practice." He taps the crossbow on his hip before closing the door and leaving us to our seclusion. We can hear their laughter outside of our little hut.
For a minute we just stand there, looking at each other and our surroundings as if none of us knew what to do.
Finally, Owyn coughs, breaking the silence. "I'm going to bed," he grumbles, walking into one of the bedrooms and closing the door behind him. This leaves Elias and I standing uncomfortably in the main room.
Looking around, I lower my voice to a whisper and ask, "What is Owyn's problem? He seems to hate the Nightingales more than most."
Elias regards me for a moment before responding, his voice pitched low as well. "Owyn has some... history with the Nightingales that gives him some deeply held prejudices."
I raise an eyebrow. "Are you saying that he was once one of them?"
He shakes his head. "No, Zara. That's not what I mea
n." Letting out a sigh, he makes his way over to one of the logs and sits down next to the fire. The smoke filters up to a crude vent cut into the roof. "Owyn's father was a ranger."
I nod my head. “Yes, he mentioned that the other day.”
Elias eyes me for a moment before continuing. “Well, he was a very renowned, very dedicated ranger... and he was also a close friend of mine."
Suddenly very intrigued, I attempt to pull up a log next to where Elias is sitting. After a feeble attempt, I sheepishly glance at him and shrug. He raises an eyebrow at me, then grudgingly rises to drag the log closer to his. After a moment, he continues.
"When Owyn was just a child, his father went on an expedition into the Ironback Mountains. This was during one of the largest Nightingale insurrections in recent years. His mission was to discover where their base was located, a hidden place called Dunmar City. While he was out, he and his partner were discovered and killed by the Nightingales. That hatchet Owyn carries was all that he inherited from his father."
"Light almighty," I whisper, genuinely saddened by the tragic story.
"I tell you this, not because you are a mage, but because now the three of us are inseparably connected in this tangled web. I hope that now you can understand what he is going through, and can be a friend to him while we make it through this mess."
"Of course," I reply simply.
He stands up and steps away from the fire pit. "I think it would be best if all of us found some rest this night. I fear that will be little sleep in the days ahead." He makes as if to enter one of the other bedrooms then pauses, looking over his shoulder at me with his hard, grey eyes. "Zara, please keep this conversation quiet. We cannot afford for there to be any bad blood between us."
I nod and he disappears, leaving me alone in the common area. For a while, I just sit and watch the flickering flames dance upon the dying coals, my thoughts lingering on the ranger’s apprentice who is much more complex than I had previously assumed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Owyn
A cool breeze cuts through the early morning air like a knife, rustling the leaves in the Emberwood and making the forest whisper.
I open my eyes and find myself lying on my back in the middle of a clearing, staring up at the pinkish hue of the sky and clouds being carried on the wind. Taking a breath of fresh air, I sit up and look around, trying to figure out where I am. How did I get to this clearing? I think to myself curiously. Why am I here? Nothing around me looks familiar, so I push myself up to my feet and begin to wander, exploring the clearing with no real sense of urgency.
Blades of grass and dirt crunch softly beneath my bare feet, but my eyes are on the edge of the forest, looking for a pathway forward. No matter which direction I go, or how long I walk, the clearing never seems to end and I never reach the trees.
Odd, I find myself thinking. The clearing seems to stretch on forever.
Something wet squishes between my toes. It is sticky and warm, and I look down to realize that the ground and everything around me is completely soaked in blood.
My heart begins to race, eyes darting from my red-stained feet to a still mound resting close by. It is a stag with an arrow sticking out of its haunch, its throat opened wide and maggots pouring out onto the ground.
I gag and take a step back, nearly stumbling over the rotting carcass of another deer. Horrified, I look around and realize that I am standing in the clearing that Elias and I had discovered all those days ago, only the blood covering the grass is still fresh.
Slipping, I catch myself before I fall into one of the crumbling piles of flesh and bone. Then, looking up, I see that eyes are staring at me from the shadows of the trees.
Twin, red orbs glow in the darkness, gazing at me hungrily no more than twenty paces away. They are quickly joined by another pair of eyes, and another, until the entire forest around me resembles a sky full of crimson stars.
I hear a low growling sound that comes at me from all directions and I gasp, covering my ears. The guttural noises still get through, filling my ears like the sound of a thousand starving wolves, and the only thing that pierces the din is the sound of my own screaming, tearing painfully out of the depths of my throat.
Falling to my knees I sink into the blood until I become stuck, and that is when the darkhounds emerge.
Hundreds, if not thousands of them creep out of the forest, clawing at the ground with their scythe-like claws, their slavering jaws open, revealing wide mouths of curving ivory teeth. The growling sound intensifies as they approach.
Feebly, I reach for my hatchet to ward them off, but it is not there. My belt loop is empty.
They pounce, claws rending my flesh, teeth snapping at me in a frenzy. I let out another scream, but it is drowned out in the gurgle of my own blood...
I SIT BOLT UPRIGHT in my bed, heart thundering loudly in my chest. My eyes dart this way and that, searching for the darkhounds that I know are still there.
It takes me several terrifying minutes to realize that I am alone.
My breaths come in great, heaving gasps as I try to calm myself down. My entire body is drenched in an icy cold sweat.
It's alright, I think to myself. It was only a dream.
Shifting on a lumpy mattress in a tiny closet of a room, I run a hand through my hair and force my eyes shut. The Nightingale fort... I am here with Elias and Zara...
It all starts coming back to me.
Shaking my head to push away the thoughts of demons, I reach over the side of the bed and begin pulling on my boots. I know that I will not be able to fall back asleep, so I might as well get up and do something productive.
I throw on my cloak and step out of the bedroom, where I find an empty common area with ash-covered embers smoldering in the fire pit. The other two must still be asleep, I conclude. My stomach rumbles, and I decide to step outside to look for some food.
As I push the door open I am confronted by two sleep deprived guards, who look at me with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. I return their frowns with one of my own as I step outside into the brisk pre-dawn air. The sky is still dark, but my ranger senses tell me that dawn is fast approaching. The sun will rise soon.
"I'm hungry," I declare simply as I wrap my cloak around myself to ward off the chill.
The two guards look at each other, as if amused by my attitude.
"Cook isn’t up," one of them replies, his voice deep and scratchy. "Won't be food for another couple of hours."
"Hells," I mumble. My stomach protests from lack of food, but I do my best to ignore it. "Fine," I say, taking a step away from the door. It closes shut behind me. "I want to get out and stretch my legs."
I take a few more steps but stop when I hear a clicking sound behind me. Turning, I see that both of them are leveling crossbows in my direction.
"I'm afraid we can't let you do that, mate," the other one says. "Captain's orders."
"Your bloody general said you were to be our escorts," I say with thinly veiled contempt. "Not our prison guards. That means you have to follow me."
I take another defiant step and the first Nightingale, a portly man with a ponytail, raises his crossbow to take aim, his finger on the trigger.
"Go ahead," I say, working hard to keep my voice casual. "Shoot me. Then we'll see how your general reacts when he finds out you murdered his guest in cold blood." I can see his confidence wavering and I decide to push him further by completely turning my back on him and walking away.
It is not long before I hear their hushed curses and the jingling of chainmail as one of them starts following me.
Not bothering to suppress my smile I continue forward, content to wander Dagger's Point with my lap dog in tow.
I quickly discover that the fort is not as big as I had originally thought. Built into the side of a rocky bluff, probably somewhere in the foothills of the Ironback Mountains, it consists of sharp wooden walls and an inner courtyard, which is probably no more than fifty paces across. A
bove the courtyard sits the great hall, which was where William Pyke had met us last night. It is by far the largest building in the compound, followed by the wide barracks built just below. There are several squat little buildings like the one we had stayed in, and I can only assume that those serve as supply stations or infirmaries.
My escort, the fellow with the ponytail, keeps silent as I wander, and I make no move to speak with him. He is a traitor just like the rest of them, and his words are probably not worth hearing.
While walking, I spot what looks like a training area tucked into the side of the courtyard. Wooden dummies and targets are stationed against the wall, right next to an overhang housing several weapon racks.
Perfect.
As I make my way to the overhang, my escort makes a grunting sound, clearly uneasy about me approaching the weapon racks.
"I don't think that is a good idea, mate." He hefts his crossbow nervously.
"Let's say," I reply condescendingly, "for the sake of argument, that I do try to use one of these weapons to kill you. What then? I am still trapped in the middle of a fortress filled with your friends and I am separated from my allies. Even if I did manage to escape, do you really think I would make it very far without a horse?"
He knuckles the side of his head as he considers my logic, and I use this opportunity to open a cabinet against the wall. To my delight, I see that it is filled with archery equipment. I pull out one of the bows, a recurve made from elm, and sling a quiver over my shoulder, taking two more quivers in my free hand. Then, I make my way over to one of the targets.
Ignoring the fidgeting guard, I begin counting my steps, thirty paces away from the target.
Once I am in position, I draw an arrow from the quiver and fix it to the string. The sky is already starting to grow brighter as the sun begins to rise. Taking a deep breath, I pull the fletching to my cheek and aim down the shaft of the arrow, taking a bead on the center of the target.
I let out my breath and loose, the string launching it with a satisfying snap. In the blink of an eye it embeds itself in the target, about a hand's width to the right of the center.
Ranger's Oath Page 17
