by T. D. Steitz
Wybert spoke with a shaky voice. “Alistair, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
Alistair didn’t understand. He lowered his eyes and saw his sword in the dust at his feet. It wasn’t stained with the black blood of the Fallen as he expected.
The blood was red.
Alistair froze. Wybert’s words played back through his head. ‘It’s not your fault. You… didn’t… know…’ His mind raced. What didn’t I know? What didn’t I know?! Alistair couldn’t pull his eyes away from his bloody sword. He couldn’t face the truth. Slowly, he forced himself to look, and his heart sank as his eyes rested on a body. Alistair was silent, but his heart screamed and begged the body not to be who he knew it was. His mind flashed to the dark forms he had fought. One had skills far greater than the others, the one with two long daggers. Alistair dragged himself closer to the body until he was face to face with his worst fear. The body was Serilda’s.
Alistair’s stoic face broke, and he wept. His gushing tears stained Serilda’s lifeless face as he lifted her to his chest and held her tight. “No,” he cried between sobs. “No, no! Please tell me I didn’t do this!” Alistair looked to Wybert, hoping beyond hope that he had misinterpreted the signs around him, but Wybert wept too. Alistair pulled his gaze away from Serilda’s face and discovered the slain bodies of Forest Clan soldiers lying all around him.
Alistair wept even more bitterly. Not since his mother’s hand had gone limp in his, had he felt so broken. Shame and hopelessness paralyzed him. The strong warrior he had been for so long, was gone. The sturdy walls he had built around himself were crumbling. He was a child crying in the dark.
Half of Alistair’s army lay dead in the Shadow Land’s black dust. The remaining half, baffled by the disappearance of their shadowy foes, searched for survivors through the corpses. They wouldn’t find any.
Anujah, Ahian, and Wybert surrounded Alistair. No one spoke. All any of them could do was try and comprehend that the five companions would never be together again.
Ahian looked at Alistair’s hand, still pierced by Anujah’s arrow. He gripped the shaft and snapped it in two.
Alistair winced but didn’t take his eyes off Serilda, as Ahian pulled the broken arrow through his hand and bandaged his wound.
The silence around them seemed endless.
Wybert finally broke it. “We should bury them.” He whispered.
Alistair delicately laid Serilda down and stood.
Wybert carried her to the twisted remnants of the tree behind them.
This is where they would lay her to rest. It was the closest thing to the forest she would never see again.
Alistair wandered through the bodies of his company. His unyielding shame allowed him only glances at each frozen face. His blood pounded like thunder in his head, and the wails of grief in his mind mingled with the ringing in his ears.
A tremendous boom exploded in the air. Then another boom sounded, and another after that. Alistair slowly turned, and what he saw hardly registered in his mind.
A vast army of Fallen soldiers had come.
The Fallen army filled Alistair’s sluggish view. He knew he should call out orders, but he returned to wandering among the corpses. Wybert’s distant voice reached him.
Wybert had just laid Serilda down at the base of the ragged tree when the drums echoed across the dead fields. Wet tears still trickled from his eyes as he saw the endless Fallen ranks. “Alistair!” He screamed. “Alistair, we have to get out of here!”
Alistair didn’t respond to Wybert’s cries.
Ahian, Anujah, and the remaining Forest Clan soldiers looked to Alistair for direction.
Wybert ducked into his drifting eye line. “Alistair, can you hear me?”
Alistair staggered around like someone in a dream.
“Alistair, you have to focus!” Wybert urged. “We are under attack. What are your orders?!”
Alistair’s drooping eyes met Wybert’s. “There’s… nowhere… to run.”
Wybert searched for an escape, but Alistair was right. There was no hope of escape. Wybert considered the eyes of the Forest Clan soldiers standing over their slain brothers and sisters. He was determined to save them.
“Everyone to me!” Wybert cried. His confidence inspired hope in the discouraged Forest Clan fighters, and they rallied. “Form ranks!” Wybert ordered. “Spears between shields!”
The soldiers leaped into action and formed a solid wall of shields and spears in front of Alistair, still in a haze.
“Stay here,” Wybert ordered him. He picked up Alistair’s discarded shield and strapped it to his arm. He wielded his massive ax with one hand and joined the wall of soldiers. The Fallen army had nearly reached them. Their grotesque bellows and bloodthirsty howls filled the air, but Wybert’s powerful voice roared through the chaos. “Hold your ground! It’s time to fight for everything you love! The rest of the clan, your families, and friends, fight so they can live!” Wybert pointed his ax at the oncoming Fallen. “Look into their eyes! See the darkness and fear there! That is the future for all of Terrene if we don’t stand and fight! No one breaks this line!”
The Forest Clan soldiers shouted and beat their weapons against their shields. They were ready to make their stand.
The Fallen broke ranks and tore forward. A whirlwind of black dust rose as they flung themselves toward the Forest Clan phalanx.
Wybert bellowed over the chaos of battle. “Hold! Hold! Stand strong!”
The soldiers deflected wave after wave of the Fallen, but the shield-wall receded slowly into itself as the forest champions began to fall. When one went down, the fighters beside him did their best to close the gap. Soon the wall was a ring. The remaining soldiers fought with everything they had.
Wybert swung his ax with unwavering power, but those around him continued to fall. He knew it would be over soon. Then he saw it.
In the middle of the Fallen fray, a great, white flame erupted from the ground. Any Fallen not consumed by the white-hot blaze scattered like insects. For a moment, both the Fallen and the Forest Clan soldiers stopped fighting. All eyes were on the flame. The fire died down slowly to reveal a hooded man kneeling in its center.
The man rose to his feet and leaned against the wooden staff in his hands. He wore no armor and carried no weapons. He was dressed in simple clothes with a thin, leather hood draped over his head. No one could see his face. Besides his staff, the only thing he carried was a hollowed-out ram’s horn hanging at his side.
Silence fell as every eye in the Shadow Lands considered the stranger’s inexplicable arrival.
The hooded man’s chest rose and fell slowly. Then, he lifted the ram’s horn to his lips and blew.
A powerful note shattered the silence. The tone of the horn tore through the ranks of Fallen, and they cowered in fear.
Wybert understood why. Anyone who had heard the legend of Ardent knew the promise he made before horns greater than any on Terrene had sounded. “The next time you hear this sound, you will know your doom has come.” This hooded man did not bear one of those horns, but the piercing tone still represented the promise even Calamity feared.
The horn’s pitch died out. The hooded stranger dropped the horn to his side, gripped his staff, and spun it over his head. The staff began to shine with a bright, white light that burst through cracks and fissures as if the staff could barely contain the power within it.
The Fallen soldiers snapped out of their stupor and charged at the man from all sides. None could touch him.
The man’s staff spun and jabbed so quickly that it seemed in several places at once. Blasts of white fire exploded from it and engulfed the Fallen. He decimated any Fallen soldier that stood against him, and the slain piled up around him.
The remaining Forest Clan soldiers rallied and pushed toward the strange man who fought to save them.
Then, someone caught Wybert’s attention.
One Fallen commander walked calmly through the droves finding their
end in the hooded man’s fury. He strode forward with authority. His chest was bare, except for six human hands on a thick chain. It was Alvah the breaker.
Alistair had seen him too. He broke from the Forest Clan’s phalanx and sprinted towards Alvah.
Wybert’s heart dropped. “Alistair, no! What are you doing?!”
Alistair ignored him.
Wybert watched Alistair disappear into the sea of Fallen who were too focused on the hooded stranger to bother with him. He desperately wanted to follow, but Wybert knew if he broke formation, the few Forest Clan soldiers still standing would die. He had no choice. He let Alistair fight alone.
Alistair saw all his suffering in Alvah’s face as he hurtled forward. “This is his fault!” He told himself. “He killed Serilda! He destroyed my home! He took my mother away from me! He has to die!”
Alvah noticed the boy flying towards him with a crazed look in his eyes. His men stood between them, but Alvah ordered them to stand aside. If this boy was so eager to die by his hand, he would indulge. He stepped forward and calmly allowed the boy to make his move.
Alistair stared at Alvah; his mind on nothing but revenge.
Alvah grinned and waved him closer.
Alistair sprinted forward, and as he cleared the final feet between him and Alvah, his fury burst forth stronger than ever. With a mighty clash, their swords crossed, and the fiercest fight of Alistair’s life began.
Alistair and Alvah’s battle raged on.
The hooded man who had appeared in flame continued to destroy waves of the Fallen. Though this man seemed invincible, the soldiers fighting beside Wybert were not.
One by one, they fell unceremoniously to the black dust, until only Wybert, Ahian, and Anujah remained, defending a hill of their slain.
“We have to help Alistair!” Wybert shouted.
“Go! We’ll be fine!” Ahian shouted back.
Wybert’s gaze lingered on the twins as he turned and ran across the battlefield to find Alistair.
Alistair and Alvah took turns driving each other back. Alistair’s body slowly gave in to exhaustion, and his strength began to fail against Alvah’s powerful blows.
Alvah slammed his fist into Alistair’s stomach.
The air left Alistair’s lungs and he collapsed to his knees.
Alvah swung his sword down.
Alistair raised his sword to stop it, but Alvah’s broke it and sliced deep into his shoulder. Alistair groaned as pain flooded his body. He stared into Alvah’s gray, shadowy eyes, and fought to stay conscious.
Alvah raised his sword in both hands.
Time slowed as the twisted sword descended on Alistair, but the sharp clang of steel replaced the death he expected. The last thing Alistair saw before he lost consciousness, was a huge battle-ax holding Alvah’s sword inches from his face.
Wybert’s muscles bulged as he lifted Alvah’s sword away from Alistair. The two powerful men faced each other, and their fight echoed across the battlefield.
While Wybert held Alvah at bay, the mysterious hooded man fought his way to Alistair and knelt beside his limp, bleeding body.
Alistair drifted in and out of consciousness as he was lifted into the air by white light that shone from the hooded man’s staff and surrounded them both.
The Fallen threw themselves at the forcefield of light but could not breach it.
Alistair caught a glimpse of the stranger’s shrouded eyes. They were wild and bright. His pupils cracked like glass and pale light shone through the fractures, casting the rest of his face into shadow.
The hooded man carried Alistair out of the battle and back to the tortured remnant of a tree that jutted over Serilda’s body. He laid Alistair beside her, stepped back, and spoke words Alistair couldn’t make out through his fragmented consciousness. When the man turned back to the battlefield, the light surrounding Alistair remained.
Alistair forced himself to his knees and watched the hooded warrior run to help his friends.
Ahian and Anujah fought back-to-back, surrounded by Fallen.
Wybert was locked in a powerful clash with Alvah the Breaker.
Alistair tried to move towards them, but the forcefield threw him back. He pounded against the bright shield with his fists, but he couldn’t break free. There was nothing he could do to help them.
The hooded man fought his way to Ahian and Anujah.
The twins saw him coming and rushed toward him with renewed energy. Ahian’s axes flashed back and forth. Anujah launched her arrows into Fallen soldiers an arm’s length away. Finally, they made it through the disorganized but numerous Fallen and reached the man in the hood.
“Follow me.” He ordered.
Ahian and his sister could not see his face, only bright light shining out from his hood. They followed him without question as a shimmering forcefield from his staff enveloped them. He led them through the Fallen, towards Alistair.
Through the forcefield, Alistair could see the hooded man leading Ahian and Anujah towards him. He wanted so badly to help them fight their way out, but all he could do was will them to safety.
Then, the sky went dark. A great, black cloud, blacker and more terrifying than any Alistair had ever seen, rose from Malum, in the heart of the Shadow Lands.
The dark storm rushed towards the ongoing battle. Huge jets shot down to Terrene from the black cloud, and wherever they struck, terrible creatures appeared. Some sprouted wings and leaped into the skies. Others raced across the land. Some even burrowed into the ground. Each one was a unique horror. Roars and bellows echoed across the battlefield. Teeth gnashed, claws gleamed in the dying light, and massive legs smashed into the ground.
The Fallen soldiers cheered. The Dark Creatures had come.
The hooded man stopped and lifted his head slowly to watch the dark clouds spew out their repulsive beasts. “They’re here…” He whispered. He spun back to Ahian and Anujah. “Go now! Run! Keep going until you reach Alistair!”
Ahian and Anujah ran.
The hooded man turned to face the black monsters alone. The beasts raced towards him. His eyes and staff burst with the intense light within them. One creature swept down from the sky above him. He shot it down with a blast of white flame. He consumed the monsters one by one with pale light, but his bright eyes were beginning to dim, and he grew weary as he fought back wave after wave of Dark Creatures. They were overwhelming him from every side, but he kept fighting.
Ahian and Anujah were close to Alistair. He called out to them. “Come on! You can make it! Just a little farther!” Alistair could see the relief on their faces as they reached him.
Then they were gone.
A giant creature exploded from the ground beneath them. A great, black worm with spinning jaws, consumed Ahian and Anujah.
The relief on Alistair’s face turned to horror as the beast slid back into the ground. “Noooo!” He screamed until his throat was raw. He threw himself against the barrier until he dropped from exhaustion. He stared at the place his friends had just been and struggled to comprehend what he’d seen. They were gone.
Alvah ducked Wybert’s swing and slammed the hilt of his sword into his ribs, leaving him gasping on his knees. Alvah kicked Wybert hard in the chest and sent him sprawling on his back. Alvah aimed the next kick at Wybert’s face, but Wybert caught his foot and threw him back.
Wybert leaped up, tackled Alvah to the ground, and pounded him with his fists. Alvah finally managed to roll out from beneath Wybert, and when Wybert turned to face him, he felt a sword point on his chest. It was over.
Wybert prepared himself for the killing blow.
Alvah wiped the back of his hand across his bloody face and stared at the sticky, black blood like it was foreign to him. He smiled slowly and spoke with a deep, hoarse voice. “Fortune is with you boy. You will not die today.”
Wybert glanced around and realized he was alone.
Alvah saw the pain in his eyes. “That’s right.” He jeered. “They’re all dead. And yo
u… you brought them here, didn’t you?”
Wybert’s downcast face was answer enough.
“It is good that I should let you live.” Alvah taunted. “If I killed you now, you would not have to live with the guilt.”
Wybert’s head fell. A crowd of Fallen had gathered around him, and two soldiers seized him. They forced his face into the dirt, and pulled his arm out straight, exposing his wrist.
“You fought well,” Alvah said. “Your reward is your life, but there is still a price.”
Wybert knew what was coming. There was no escaping it, but he would not lay in the dust while it happened. He threw off the Fallen soldiers and rose to his feet. He stood eye-to-eye with Alvah and slowly held out his arm. Wybert held Alvah’s gaze. Even though he had every reason to be afraid, inexplicable courage burned within him.
It angered Alvah that there was no fear in Wybert’s eyes as he lifted his sword.
Alistair's eyes darted between his closest friend and the mysterious man in the hood.
The man fought hard to keep the Dark Creatures at bay.
Wybert stood before Alvah, waiting for death.
Alistair had just been in that position, and Wybert was there to save him. Alistair’s hands were bloody and bruised from his relentless attempt to escape his prison of light, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not get to his friend. Alistair screamed but doubted anyone could hear. “Let me go! Let me help him! He’s only here because of me! Please! Not him… Not him! Don’t let him die because of me! Because of me… All of them… They’re dead... And it’s because of me…” Alistair sank to his knees and wept in the dust.
The man in the hood wielded tremendous power against the Dark Creatures surrounding him, but he was failing. The vicious monsters closed in. A thin tail struck the hooded warrior from behind like a whip. It sliced into his back and sent him sprawling forward. He rolled onto his back as the Dark Creatures descended on him. He had no escape, but then his eyes exploded with light. He erupted into a white flame and was gone. The monsters shrieked and sizzled in the white-hot fire.
Alistair shielded his eyes when the bright flame appeared in front of him.
