CHAPTER SEVEN
DARK FORCES
'Well, well. Look what we found wandering in the woods,' the voice said. It was harsh and dry, like a desert wind.
The middle rider dismounted. His clothes and armour were pitch black, his face criss-crossed with a hundred scars. He looked down at the fallen champion, a look of hatred on his face. 'I hope your pathetic slaves enjoyed their taste of freedom, because it's about to come to an end.'
Hughell spat dirt from his mouth and tried to speak. His voice crackled with fear. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Don't play me for a fool,' the massive warrior snarled. 'Tell me where the slaves are, Knight of the Prince, and I'll make your exit from life an easy one.'
'Please,' Hughell said, clawing his way backwards across the leaves. 'I'm not a knight. I don't know of any prince. I've never seen you before!'
The warrior dismounted and walked towards Hughell, his pale eyes narrowed dangerously. With every step he seemed to double in size, until his very shadow blotted out the feeble sunlight.
Hughell looked around in desperation, but Idon was nowhere to be seen. As the massive boots reached the spot where he had fallen, he reached across and without thinking, drew the stolen sword from its scabbard.
Even in the dim light, the mark on the pommel flashed like a beacon.
For an instant, the dark warrior seemed cower, but when Hughell made no move to attack he started forward again, an ugly sneer on his lips.
'Liar!' he hissed. 'Now you will die in misery, worm, knowing that you have denied your master to the end.'
His massive blade whistled from its sheath.
Hughell scrambled to his feet, every other sound lost behind the thudding of his heart.
The dark warrior yelled and lashed out with his massive blade, slicing the air where Hughell had stood but milliseconds before.
The next blow came with twice the speed and Hughell lifted his sword in an effort to deflect it. The force jarred him to the bone. Numbness spread to his shoulders as he backed away, gasping.
'You knights are so pitiful,' the warrior chuckled. 'It's a wonder your feeble prince ever thought he could use you to stand against us. My master will be pleased when I tell him about you. Nothing pleases him more than to see you fall.'
He struck. This time the blow shattered Hughell's grip. The stolen sword flew to the ground, rolling away into the shadows of the undergrowth.
Hughell froze, his whole mind focussed on the thought that he was about to die.
But the dark warrior didn't seem to be a hurry.
'Imeth,' he barked. 'One of the rats has run away. Track him down and finish him off.'
'It would be my pleasure, commander Okbaan,' a sinister voice growled. Great hoof beats shook the ground as one of the other dark warriors rode past, thundering into the trees.
Okbaan turned back to Hughell, his face alight with cruel pleasure. Without any warning, he lashed out, smashing the pommel of his sword into Hughell's head.
The young man sprawled backwards, darkness clawing at the edges of his mind. He drifted back, just as a booted foot slammed into his side. There was a dull cracking sound. He curled, trying in vain to escape the blows as they came, hard and fast.
'Idon!' The cry tore from his lips, but it was not loud enough. It could never be loud enough. The young lord would not be coming back.
Barely aware of what was happening any more, Hughell felt a tremor run beneath his hands. The ground shook, as if beneath the assault of many hooves. It seemed the dark executioner had returned, his grisly mission complete.
'Ware, Commander!' The shout of alarm rose from the remaining warrior, who had been observing the torture with relish. 'Silent Warriors!'
The blows ceased immediately.
Dully, Hughell heard Okbaan's footsteps retreating back across the leaves. His eyes opened in time to see a two massive feet land in the dirt, just inches away from his nose. He twisted to look upwards. This man was as tall and every bit as fearsome as Okbaan; his shoulders were powerful, and the muscles of his arms flexed powerfully with every move. In his right hand was an immense sword, burnished in the sun like a river of gold.
Hughell cowered in fear, but this man's wrath seemed bent upon a different object.
'Okbaan!'
For one momentous second the two warriors faced off. Then they hurled themselves at one another, their blades colliding with ear-shattering force. Sparks shot from every blow. Such brutal strength, such otherworldly skill Hughell had never imagined possible.
In seconds the fight was over.
The dark warrior backed across the clearing, mocking laughter rattling his throat. 'You came too late, Shemie. I've already culled off two of your pathetic little pets.'
Hughell uncurled just then, a gasp rattling in his throat. Pain filled his senses, but he was far from dead.
'The strength of the Prince is in him.’ The voice dropped into Hughell's ears, rich and deep, like gravity itself. ‘He will live, despite the schemes of Lucius, your master.'
Okbaan's face twisted with hatred. 'There is nowhere in Arrethtrae that you can hide. Lord Lucius is master here, and he will destroy you all!' The dark warrior mounted, blood dripping from a slice in his shoulder. He thrashed his horse into a gallop and charged into the undergrowth.
'There is only one Master here,' proclaimed the voice above Hughell, 'And He holds all of Arrethtrae in the palm of His hand.'
In answer, there was only the rush of wind in the trees and the sound of hoof-beats, fading far away among the forest.
The giant figure knelt swiftly. The first glimpse of his face confused Hughell; somehow the man appeared both old and young at the same time. His head was shaven clean, but the small beard and level eyebrows that remained were reddish-brown, the colour of rust. His brown eyes were full of concern.
'Can you hear me?' the man spoke solemnly, his deep voice reaching through the turmoil in Hughell's mind.
Hughell's hand found the man's booted foot and squeezed it. 'Thank you,' he murmured.
The man frowned. 'The Shadow Warriors have fled, but they may return. There may be others with them. Can you stand?'
Hughell stuck out his arms and pushed himself into a kneeling position. The pain in his ribs was stunning, but it was nothing compared with the shock of finding himself alive. He sat back, clutching his forehead.
'Who are you?'
'There is no time.' The massive warrior gripped his shoulder, urging him to rise. 'We must go!'
'No! Please...'
The man sighed in frustration. 'Sir Coryth, I am Shemie; leader of a band of Silent Warriors. The Prince sent us to protect you from your pursuers.'
Hughell's head reeled, and he felt vomit rising in the back of his throat. Silent Warriors? Pursuers? What was the stranger talking about?
His face must have shown his confusion, for big warrior stood and left him for a moment. When he returned, he was bearing something long and shining.
'Your sword, Sir Coryth,' he said gently, pressing the stolen sword into Hughell’s hands. 'You must have dropped it. Now, let us hurry.'
'Captain Shemie!'
Branches cracked and thrashed as another man burst into the clearing. His stature matched that of Shemie's, but his eyes were a brilliant blue and his blonde hair hung about his head and neck like a lion's mane. He looked around, spotted the kneeling figure and strode towards him, his face urgent. 'Captain,' he called again. 'We found Sir Coryth back across the river. He's been run through, sir, and it looks bad. Very bad. But we have yet to find the ones who did it; there was no trace of the Shadow Warriors on that side of the Duvane.'
He stopped. Slowly, both of the warriors turned to look at Hughell.
At Hughell - and at the bloody sword in his lap.