The Champion studied him narrowly. “If there are any demons nearby, they’ll be bound to hear us, Sire.”
Rupert shrugged. “I’ve tried stealth, sir Champion. It doesn’t work. Our only hope is speed.”
The Champion nodded impassively, thrust the map back into his pannier, and moved away to give the guards their orders. Rupert turned his attention back to the Darkwood boundary, and then had to look away. The darkness brought back too many memories. He looked instead at his guards, already dismounted from their horses and searching for flint and steel to light their lanterns. The men seemed calm enough, but the horses were nervous. They stamped their hooves and tossed their heads, their snorting breath steaming on the chill air. They seemed fascinated by the darkness, but rolled their eyes wildly if any guard tried to lead them closer to the boundary. Rupert frowned, and called to the guards to wrap cloaks or blankets round the horses’ heads, to keep the animals from panicking when they were led into the Darkwood.
The guards nodded respectfully, and moved quickly to obey. Seeing the Darkwood close up had impressed the hell out of them, and knowing that Rupert had already been through it twice and survived suddenly meant a great deal more to them than it had. Rupert smiled grimly. The guards might see him as some kind of expert, but he knew better. He swung down out of the saddle and strolled casually among them, talking quietly and calmly, and answering what questions he could about the Darkwood. His answers weren’t exactly reassuring, but the guards listened carefully to everything he said, laughed politely at his jokes, and without actually saying anything themselves, made it very clear that they appreciated his not lying to them about the dangers ahead. Several of the men clapped him on the back, and told him they’d had worse leaders. Rupert went back to his unicorn with tears stinging his eyes. He’d never been more proud of his men, or felt less worthy to lead them.
Finally everything was ready, and Rupert leaned against the unicorn’s shoulder as he looked his guards over one last time. Lamps and lanterns hung from every saddle, glowing palely in the daylight. Smoke drifted on the air from half a dozen torches. Swords gleamed dully in every guardsman’s hand. The horses stirred restlessly, disturbed by the Darkwood’s stench, but the thick cloth around their heads kept them manageable. Rupert bit his lip thoughtfully, checking for anything he might have forgotten. Provisions wouldn’t be a problem this trip, but he’d had the guards fill their canteens from the nearby brook, just in case. Rupert sighed. Everything that needed to be done had been done. Anything else would just be an excuse, to help him put off the moment when he’d have to go back into the Darkness again. The darkness that had laid its mark upon him.
He shook his head angrily, and looked to the Champion, who stood waiting patiently at the Darkwood boundary, his huge double-headed war axe in his hands. The two massive blades flashed brightly as the Champion hefted the axe. He looked at Rupert inquiringly, and grinned when Rupert nodded curtly. The Champion took a firm grip on the axe’s oaken shaft and turned to face the darkness. For a moment he hesitated and then, with one swift movement, he raised the axe above his head and brought it savagely down on the first Darkwood tree. The steel blade sank deep into the rotting wood, and the stench of corruption was suddenly worse. The Champion jerked the axe free and struck again, shearing clean through the tree. The trunk was hollow, eaten away from within. The Champion worked on, swinging the giant war axe effortlessly, and then he stepped forward into the Darkwood, and the darkness swallowed him. The sound of his axe cutting into rotten wood could still be heard, but only faintly, as though from far away. Rupert gestured to the first half-dozen guards, and they set about widening the new path into the darkness.
Rupert watched uneasily as their swords rose and fell in a steady rhythm, cutting quickly through the decaying wood. The scars of his face ached fiercely, throbbing to the rhythm of the swordblows. He didn’t have to go back into the darkness. He could still change his mind, and go the long way around. Rupert clenched his hands until the nails dug painfully into his palms. He’d beaten the Darkwood before; he could beat it again. He had to. If only because his men trusted him to get them through safely. He realized he was holding the unicorn’s reins too tightly, and slowly relaxed his hands.
“Rupert,” said the unicorn quietly, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“No,” said Rupert. “If you’ve got a better one, let’s hear it.”
The unicorn sniffed, and tossed his head. “I’m just the transport; who listens to me?”
“Don’t start that again,” said Rupert wearily. “You’re my friend, and right now I need all the help I can get. If there was any other way to reach the Dark Tower in time, I’d take it. Do you think I want to go back into the darkness?”
“No,” said the unicorn softly. “I know you don’t. I don’t want to, either.”
“We don’t have any choice,” said Rupert, his voice not as firm as he would have liked. “If the Blue Moon rises before we get back, there’ll be nowhere to get back to. The High Warlock may be our last chance to stop the long night.”
“The rainbow sword …”
“Saved us once. It can’t help us again. I tried to call a Rainbow back in the Coppertown mine, when I was being chased by that creature. Nothing happened.”
“Hardly surprising,” said the unicorn. “How’s a Rainbow supposed to get to you when you’re hidden away down in the depths of a mine?”
“I thought of that,” said Rupert tiredly. “I’ve tried to summon the Rainbow a dozen times since, but nothing’s ever happened. What magic there was in the sword is gone.”
“Great,” said the unicorn. “Just great. I notice you didn’t mention this before we got to the Darkwood.”
“Must have slipped my mind,” said Rupert innocently.
The unicorn snorted, and kicked at the muddy trail with his hoof. “No dragon, no rainbow sword, and we’re going back into the darkness. We must be mad. Ah well; if nothing else, maybe we’ll find the demon that thieved my horn. I feel naked without it.”
“You’re always naked,” said Rupert.
“You can go off people, you know,” said the unicorn.
Rupert chuckled briefly, and then looked up as one of the guards called to him. They’d finished widening the path. Rupert took a deep breath, let it go slowly, and led his unicorn and his men into the Darkwood.
Night slammed down as Rupert crossed the boundary. The wind and the sleet couldn’t follow him, but the darkness was even colder; an icy chill that sank into his bones and gnawed at them, until it seemed he’d never feel warm again. As more and more guards crossed the boundary into the Darkwood, their lamps and lanterns helped push the darkness back, and Rupert began to breathe more easily. Not far ahead, the Champion and his guards pressed steadily forward in their own little pool of light, slowly and methodically opening up a new trail into the Darkwood. Rupert hefted his sword and stared about him, but the dim lamplight couldn’t penetrate far into the endless gloom. Gnarled misshapen trees glowed golden under the light, and every now and again a twisted branch would stir slightly, though no wind blew in the long night.
“How are you feeling?” asked the unicorn quietly.
“Lousy,” said Rupert. “I keep feeling we’re being watched.”
“We probably are.”
“You’re a great comfort. Can you see anything out there?”
“No.”
Rupert scowled unhappily. “They know we’re here. I can feel it. It’s just a matter of time … With luck, we’ll be out of here in an hour.”
The unicorn snorted. “Since when have we ever been lucky?”
Cutting the path was slow, hard work, and as the company pressed deeper into the Dark wood, their pace soon slowed to a crawl. The guardsmen crowded together, glancing uneasily about them as the dark brooding oppression of the long night sank slowly into their souls. Their usual joking and horseplay soon vanished, replaced by a wary, watchful silence.
Rupert changed the trail
cutters as soon as they showed signs of tiring, but there was a limit to how fast the guards could fell and drag aside the closely packed trees. The sound of steel cutting into rotten wood was eerily loud on the quiet, but still there was no sign of the demons. The waiting wore at Rupert’s nerves, and it was all he could do to stop himself jumping at every sudden sound or movement. The slow march continued, and he began to worry that the candles in the lanterns wouldn’t last the journey. He tried to figure out how much oil there was left for the lamps, and then bit his lip when he remembered he’d used most of it to burn the creature from the Coppertown pit. He swore softly, and checked the candle in his own lantern. Less than an inch of stub remained; half an hour, at most. Rupert frowned. Perhaps that was the demons’ plan; wait until the company lost its light, and then attack under cover of the darkness. Rupert called for the men to stop and rest, and moved over to join the Champion.
“I really don’t think it’s wise to stop, Sire,” said the Champion quietly.
“We’re using too much light,” said Rupert shortly. “Either we cut back now, or we’ll finish our journey in darkness.”
The Champion nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll order the lamps doused. The lanterns can give us what light we need. When they’re exhausted we’ll switch back to the lamps.” He looked at Rupert warningly. “The men won’t like it, Sire.”
“They’ll like the dark less,” said Rupert. “Anything’s better than the dark.”
The Champion looked into Rupert’s haunted eyes, and looked away. “I’ll give the order, Sire.”
He turned away and moved quietly among the guards, and one by one the lamps went out, and the darkness pressed close around the shrinking pool of light. Several of the men stirred restlessly, and a few glanced angrily at Rupert, but nobody said anything. Rupert was too tired and too worried to give a damn. After a while, the Champion came back to stand beside him.
“We have a problem, Sire. We’ve lost seven men since we entered the Darkwood.”
For a moment Rupert just looked at him, not understanding, and then his blood went cold, rushing through him like a chill wind. “Seven? Are you sure?”
The Champion nodded grimly. “There’s no trace of the men, their horses, or their equipment; no sign to show they were ever with us. They were taken quietly, one at a time, and nobody heard or saw a thing.”
Rupert swore harshly, and kicked at the dusty ground. If the demons had found them already … “From now on the men work in pairs; one cuts trail while the other guards his back. There can’t be more than a handful of demons out there, or they’d have attacked us openly by now. It’ll take them time to summon more. If we can move fast enough, we might get out of here alive yet.”
“With no sky or stars to guide us, we can’t be sure we’re cutting a straight path,” said the Champion slowly. “Press ahead too quickly, and we could end up travelling in circles.”
Rupert looked back the way they’d come. The sparse light showed only a few feet of the trail they’d cut. He shrugged angrily. “Sir Champion; the way we’re spread out we’d soon notice a bad curve in the trail, and we’re not going to be in the Darkwood long enough for a subtle curve to make much difference.”
And so the company moved on into the long night. The dark pressed close around them, muffling all sound and dimming the light they moved in. One by one the candle-stubs in the lanterns guttered and went out, and were replaced by oil lamps, and still the company cut their way through the decaying trees, with never a sign to show they were any nearer to the Darkwood’s far boundary. They lost no more men to the dark, but still Rupert could feel the pressure of watching eyes on his back. The scars on his face throbbed with remembered pain, and only his pride kept him from peering constantly into the darkness. His lantern guttered, and he scrabbled in his backpack for an oil lamp. And then everything hit them at once.
The earth boiled and writhed beneath the company’s feet as dozens of corpse-white arms thrust up out of the ground and snatched at the guardsmen’s legs, pulling them down to what lay waiting in the burrows under the earth. Long sticky strands of blood-red gossamer uncoiled from high in the rotting trees and lashed down to wrap themselves around the bewildered guards, dragging them with a horrid ease back up into the far branches of the trees, where the lamplight couldn’t reach. Blood ran down the treetrunks, and the guards’ screams carried clearly on the still air until they were suddenly cut off. Small scurrying creatures poured out of the darkness in their hundreds and swarmed all over the screaming horses, eating them alive.
Rupert and the Champion stood back-to-back, killing anything that came within reach of their weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, Rupert could see the unicorn rearing up again and again, shaking off the swarming creatures and pulping them under his flailing hooves. In the space of a few moments, a dozen guardsmen had been snatched from the trail, but even as Rupert howled his anger the trail before him erupted as a blood-spattered guard fought his way back out of the burrows. More guards followed him, and one dropped down from the branches overhead, looking eagerly around for something else to kill.
Dark twisted shapes came running and leaping out of the darkness, falling on the guards with fang and claw and glaring hungry eyes. The guards formed a defensive ring around the few surviving horses and the unicorn, and slowly fought the creatures back. Swords and axes gleamed brightly in the lamplight as they rose and fell. Blood flew through the air and ran thickly on the ground. Rupert swung his sword double-handed, grunting and growling with the effort of his blows. For every creature that fell before him, another rose to take its place, and Rupert grinned savagely as he cut them down. The darkness had finally given him an enemy he could fight, an enemy that could be faced and defeated. Rupert and the Champion and the guards strove against an enemy that outnumbered them ten to one, and still they wouldn’t give in to the dark. They stood their ground and fought side-by-side, and suddenly the creatures of the dark gave way before them, and faded back into the concealing shadows from which they’d come.
Rupert slowly lowered his sword and looked warily about him. No arms reached up from under the earth, no strands hung down from the trees, and the surrounding dark was still and silent. Scores of the little scurrying creatures lay crushed and broken on the ground, but all the horses were dead, including the Champion’s war horse. Its armor hadn’t been much protection after all. The Champion knelt beside his fallen steed and patted its shoulder gently, as though apologizing. Rupert looked quickly around for the unicorn, who moved slowly over to join him. Angry scratches bloodied the animal’s flanks, but otherwise he seemed largely unhurt. Rupert sighed wearily, and leaned against the unicorn’s side a moment before turning around to inspect his guards. Of the forty-six men who’d followed him into the Darkwood, only thirty remained. He’d lost seven men while cutting trail, and nine more during the battle. Rupert swore quietly and glared disgustedly at the blood-spattered sword in his hand. Another Rainbow might have saved his men, but the rainbow sword was just a sword, while the Darkwood was still dark.
The Champion came and stood beside him, leaning casually on his war axe. “It seems I was wrong, Rupert; demons do hunt in packs after all.”
Rupert smiled tiredly. “Nine men, sir Champion. We’ve lost nine more men.”
“We were lucky not to have lost a damned sight more. What are our chances of making a break for it?”
“Pretty low. We can’t be far from the boundary, but the demons would be on us before we could cut another foot of trail.”
“We could retreat back down the trail …”
The Champion’s voice fell away as demons moved forward out of the dark to crouch at the edge of the lamplight. Hundreds of the twisted creatures surrounded the company, and hundreds more moved unseen in the darkness beyond the narrow pool of light. The faint scurrying and slithering sounds carried clearly on the still air as the demon horde gathered.
“They’ve been waiting for us,” said Rupert bitterly. “They must
have spotted us the moment we entered the Darkwood. We never had a chance of reaching the far boundary. We came all this way for nothing.”
“You’ve faced the demons before, and beaten them,” said the Champion.
“I had a magic sword then,” said Rupert. “I don’t have it any more.”
“Then we’ll just have to do it the hard way.” The Champion laughed quietly, and hefted his war axe. “Stand ready, guardsmen; this is where we earn our pay.”
“If we win, I want a raise,” said one of the guards, and the others chuckled briefly. Rupert wanted to laugh with them, but couldn’t. They were his men, and he’d failed them. He’d promised them a chance to save the Forest Land, and instead he’d led them to their deaths. He looked around at his guards, waiting patiently for his orders, and felt a fierce surge of pride for them. They’d taken the worst the Darkwood could send against them and thrown it back, and now they stood ready to do it again, even though they were hopelessly outnumbered.
Rupert grinned suddenly, proud tears stinging his eyes. Whatever happened next wasn’t important. The dark had tried to break him and his men, and the dark had failed, and in the end that was all that really mattered. Rupert looked out at the watching bloodred eyes, and laughed. For all their vast weight of numbers, the demons were still scared to come into the lamplight; they preferred to wait until the light ran out before attacking again. And then Rupert’s laughter broke off short as an idea struck him, an idea so obvious he could have kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier.
“The lamps!” he yelled joyously, whirling on the startled Champion, “The bloody oil lamps! That’s our way out! Guards; take the oil cannisters and spread a circle of oil around us. Use the reserves first, but if that’s not enough start emptying lamps until it is. Well don’t just stand there; move it! We do have a chance, after all!”