The Lion's Crown (The Emberlyn Chronicles Book 1), page 12
“How many do you suppose?” William asked breathlessly.
“By the number of arrows, perhaps a dozen,” said Alfred.
Stephen finished stringing his bow and unwrapped the bundle that had ridden on his pack beside it. He took an arrow from the bundle and nocked it.
The forest had grown quiet, and Sir William instructed Penny and Owen to remain still.
“Keep watch and kill anything that approaches,” he said to Stephen and Alfred.
William gestured Sir Harold around one side of the boulder, and he went around the other. The others risked a peek over the rock and watched the two men quickly and quietly move from tree to tree.
Something else moved beyond the trees. They could see that William and Harold had heard it, but Sir Stephen was already pulling back his bowstring. He released the arrow, and it skimmed the bottom of the canopy before arcing back down. A shout came from the direction in which he’d shot, and three or four arrows streamed back at them.
William and Harold were moving again. Penny could just see them, and her heart thundered in her chest as she saw William raise his sword. The sound of clashing metal immediately followed. Stephen was squinting, looking for a target, but William and Harold had engaged the enemy just out of sight.
“I’m going to help,” he said to Alfred, but before he could leave the shelter of the rock, an arrow clattered against it. Stephen whipped his head to the right. Dark shapes were moving toward them from another direction.
He grabbed a handful of arrows and tossed all but one onto the ground in front of him. He nocked and released the one he had kept and repeated the process until his arrows were exhausted.
Penny saw two figures fall, but more were coming. Finally, they burst through the low brush that had been obscuring them from her view. She screamed again. They looked like men, but their features were twisted. Deep furrows ran along their brows, and their eyes were dark and cruel. Their skin was tan and leathery, and the final detail is what froze Penny in place: two small, knobby horns rose up from just above their temples, just like the ones they’d seen on the skeletons in the crypt.
“Demons,” she heard Sir Alfred whisper.
Sir Stephen was already closing with them, his bow abandoned and his sword drawn. As his blade clashed with the spear carried by the lead demon, Alfred jumped to his feet and also rushed toward their attackers.
Penny called out to him, begging him not to leave her alone, but he didn’t answer. She gripped her knife in one hand and Owen’s arm in the other, tears dripping from her chin as she watched Stephen and Alfred battle with the attackers.
Sir Stephen made quick work of the first demon and advanced on a creature wielding a hatchet and a wooden shield. Alfred was struggling against a demon swinging a crude flail, unable to get within striking range as he ducked and dodged the powerful swings of the deadly weapon.
Beside her, Owen was muttering something she couldn’t understand. She turned to look at him, and in that instant, she heard Sir Alfred scream. She looked back to see him fall. The demon lifted his flail again and brought it down against his skull. The top of Alfred’s head collapsed, sending up a spray of gore as the demon yanked the flail back up.
Pushing back against the urge to vomit, she took up Sir Stephen’s bow. One arrow had been left behind in the bundle. She clumsily nocked it as the demon looked in her direction and charged.
Scarcely knowing what to do, she pulled back the bowstring and released the arrow. It launched pathetically away from her and skidded along the ground at the demon’s feet. She dropped the bow and picked up her knife again. The demon was grinning cruelly at her. Owen kept muttering and clenching and unclenching his fists, his eyes clamped shut.
The demon lunged. Penny lashed out feebly with her knife, but the demon was beyond her reach, and she couldn’t get close enough as long as he was swinging that flail.
From behind the demon, she heard Sir Stephen grunting as he continued his struggle with another foe. Penny backed away from her enemy. She couldn’t keep ahold of Owen and hoped he’d stay behind her.
As the demon raised its flail for another swing, a shape barreled into its side. Sir William knocked the creature to the ground and plunged his sword into it as they both fell. Penny wheeled around at another noise behind her but fell to her knees in relief as she saw that it was Sir Harold. Sir Stephen returned a moment later, splattered with blood but seemingly unharmed.
“We must go back for George,” Penny begged, turning to look at him.
Sir Stephen shook his head. “He took an arrow to the gut. Even if he still lives, he—”
William shot Stephen a silencing glare. “We must keep moving,” he said, glancing over at Sir Alfred’s body.
“But which way?” asked Harold.
William looked to the north then to the west. “Those… things… came from the north. We head west, deeper into the valley.” He reached down, took Penny’s hand and helped her up. “I know you are distraught over George, but we must move. Quickly!”
She nodded and wiped at her face. Owen had fallen quiet, and she took his hand again and followed as Sir William led them away. Sir Harold walked beside her, and Sir Stephen followed behind.
William led them windingly into the valley, stopping and changing direction seemingly without purpose. Penny realized he was trying to confuse their trail. If those creatures could track them, he didn’t want to make it easy.
The rough, rocky terrain gave way to gently sloping land sparsely covered with trees. They kept walking for what seemed to be two hours before William finally stopped and dropped down against a tree.
Penny collapsed next, followed by the others, and she closed her eyes, hoping to open them again and find herself in her bed by the fountain, convinced that this all had to be a horrible nightmare.
The men were talking when she again became aware of her surroundings. Owen was digging in the dirt, seemingly unaffected by what had just happened. He was mumbling to himself, and she realized that he was talking about worms.
“According to the stories in my book,” William said, “those were certainly demons.”
“And I say they were men,” said Stephen. “Twisted, misshapen men, but men nonetheless. You saw the skeletons in the crypt. Aside from the horns, they are identical to us.”
Harold was nodding. “They seemed to fight like men, and their weapons looked common enough. I thought demons were said to have malign powers.”
“The stories aren’t always accurate,” said William. “Let’s hope they’ve ascribed abilities to those creatures that they don’t truly possess. We barely escaped them as it was.”
Penny took a breath. “What now?” she said, so low she wasn’t sure they’d heard.
But William turned to look at her, his eyes sorrowful. “We will find a way out,” he said gently. He looked at the other knights. “Our path back to the east is now blocked, and if we go south, we’ll be forced to cross the water at some point, which I am reluctant to do with that creature lurking in there. The question is this: do we turn north and risk those things that attacked us finding us again or continue west and exit the valley at the far end?”
“We should travel west,” said Harold. “There could be any number of those things in the woods. They came from the north, so I vote against north.”
“But we don’t know where their camp might be,” said Stephen. “That might have been a small scouting party. Perhaps they patrol the eastern end of the valley, watching for people to come through. They signal their lake monster to block the path then eliminate any threats before they can get closer. There might still be a town deeper in the valley, one not visible from the lake.”
William crossed his arms, his brow knotted. “Penny?” he finally said. “How do you vote?”
Penny shook her head. “I know nothing of such things.”
“You have as much knowledge of the Hobswood as any of us. Shall it be north or west?”
Penny looked west. She could see the tops of the mountains through the trees. In the north, the edge of the valley wasn’t visible, and the trees seemed thicker in that direction. “West,” she said. “Toward the mountains. Something tells me we’ll be safer there.”
Stephen frowned. “You lead this expedition,” he said to William. “You have no obligation to abide by a vote.”
“You’re correct,” William said, “but I agree with Sir Harold and Penny. We travel west, at least for now. After all, the demons will expect us to try to find a way out. They might not search for us deeper in the valley.”
Penny wanted to rest a while longer, but she saw that Sir William was ready to leave. She stood and called to Owen, who abandoned his search for worms and took her hand once again.
Chapter Eighteen
The Hideaway
The rest of the day, Penny said little. The others were also quiet as they marched deeper into the valley. They were on alert, of course, but they were also feeling the loss of George and Sir Alfred. Penny knew none of them felt it as acutely as she did, though. She was long past crying by the time Sir William stopped them for the evening. She didn’t have the energy to weep anymore; she didn’t have the energy to do anything but that which was necessary to help prepare their camp for the night.
“No fire,” William said as they laid out their bedrolls. “We can’t afford to attract any attention.”
“How will we organize the watch?” asked Stephen.
“Two watches of four hours each. Penny and I will stand watch first, followed by you and Sir Harold.”
Penny finished rolling out her bed and collapsed onto it. She still had to roll out Owen’s, but she needed to rest first. Within minutes, though, she had drifted off. She woke up to Sir William shaking her by the shoulders.
“What?” she slurred as she opened her eyes. She realized the sun had set. William had not roused her for the watch.
“It’s Owen. He’s gone.”
Penny was awake immediately. She sat up and looked around the camp. “I fell asleep. What happened?”
“I laid out Owen’s bedroll and saw him into it. You were asleep, so I sat watch myself. A moment ago, I looked over and he was gone.”
“Did you call for him?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to make too much noise. Perhaps if he hears your voice….”
Penny stood. “Owen!” she called gently. “Come back to camp now!”
“Again,” William said.
“Owen?” she said, raising her voice slightly.
“I will make a search of the area,” said Harold, putting on his boots.
“Sir Stephen, go with him,” William said. “Penny and I will wait here in case he returns.”
Penny doubled over, resting her hands on her knees. “Not him,” she whispered. “Not him, too.”
She felt William’s hand on her shoulder. “Your loss today has been great. I promise we will not stop searching until we find him.”
She stood and turned, falling against Sir William’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed. She hadn’t wanted to lose control again, but she couldn’t help herself. Long minutes passed, and William kept holding her. They occasionally heard the others calling for Owen in the distance, but otherwise the forest was quiet.
Penny was beginning to calm down when Sir William’s muscles hardened around her. “He’s back,” he said into her ear. She started to turn around, but William held her still. “He’s not alone.”
She turned her head enough to see Owen standing at the edge of camp, barely visible in the moonlight. Beside him was a cloaked figure, his face shrouded beneath a hood.
Sir William’s arm slid down Penny’s side and across her stomach as he reached for his sword. He stepped away from her as he drew the blade, holding it with the point down as Penny turned to fully look at Owen.
“Call to him,” William whispered.
“Owen, come here and give me a kiss,” Penny said, forcing a smile.
Owen looked at the figure beside him then started toward her. When he reached her, he kissed her on the cheek, and she pulled him into a tight hug, watching the figure over his shoulder.
Sir William cleared his throat. “Thank you for returning him to us, stranger,” he called.
The figure nodded and took a few steps forward. Sir William kept his sword still, but Penny could see that he was poised for action.
“You come from the outside?” said a strangely accented voice.
“We do. From the Kingdom of Emberlyn. We are on an expedition at the command of His Majesty, King Edward the Ninth.”
“Eemberleen?” the figure said, stretching out the vowels.
“Do you… have you heard of it?”
“Yes. We know some of the outside… some things. We know some language.”
William nodded. “Yes. You speak well.”
The figure began moving again, and William angled the tip of his sword upward. The figure ignored the movement and stopped a few feet away. Penny let out a breath as she saw his face. He didn’t look quite like the demons, but he looked like he might belong to the same race, only without evil twisting his features. He raised his hands and threw back his hood to reveal a mass of curly hair. Penny’s body tensed again. He had the same knobby horns above his temples.
“What kind of creature are you?” William asked.
“Creature?” The horned man shook his head. “I am a man… not a man like you… different… but a man.”
William sheathed his sword and held out his hand. “I am Sir William Carlyle, Knight of Emberlyn.”
The horned man looked at the hand. His eyes brightened as he shook it. “My name is Faric.”
Sir William stood holding Faric’s hand, apparently at a loss for words.
Penny held out her hand. “My name is Penny.”
Faric let go of William’s hand and shook hers. His smile betrayed his delight at the apparently strange custom. “Penny,” he said. He looked over at Owen. “I could not get this one to speak.”
“His name is Owen. He’s… simple.”
Faric raised an eyebrow. “Simple?”
“He came into the Hobswood as a child. When he came out, his mind… he had lost his sense.”
Faric opened his mouth in surprise. “Yes! I remember now! I can explain. But first, this place is not safe. More and more, Dourok’s men come over the hills to the north and into the valley.”
“Dourok? Do his men look like you only… twisted?”
Faric nodded. “Yes. I witnessed their attack but could do nothing; they were too many and I was too far away. You ran, and I could not find you again until nightfall. But we must go now. I have a safe place.”
“I have two men searching the woods for Owen.”
“Call to them. We must go before others find you.”
William called out to Stephen and Harold, and they returned to camp a few minutes later. They drew their swords as they spotted Faric, but William gestured for them to stand down.
He explained what had happened as they packed up their camp. When they finished, they followed Faric deeper into the woods. He led them to a round hole dug into the ground at an angle. He got onto his hands and knees and crawled inside. They followed and came out in a circular chamber. The walls had been plastered over with mud, and in the center was a fire pit ringed with stones. Coals glowed in the pit, casting just enough light to see by. The ground was covered with rugs and blankets, and aside from a stack of pots, baskets and barrels against one section of the wall, it was empty of furniture.
Faric blew on the coals, bringing them to back to life, and added a few small sticks, which caught immediately. The smoke pooled at the ceiling before drifting up through an opening in the roof opposite the entry tunnel. Faric poked at the sticks for a minute before gently laying a larger log atop them, nodding with satisfaction as the flames began to lick up around the sides of it.
“What is this place?” Sir William asked. “Your home?”
Faric looked insulted. “This is a hideaway. I am a scout. There are many such holes I stay in while patrolling.”
“Patrolling for what? Dourok’s men?”
“Yes.”
William leaned forward. “You must understand,” he said, “that while you seem to know something of the world outside the Hobswood, we know little of what goes on inside.”
Faric furrowed his brow. “Yes… I must speak to you as children.”
“Perhaps not quite,” said William, frowning.
“Very well.” Faric put another log on the fire, angled against the first. “I will tell you what I can.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Rise of Dourok
Faric dug into the pots and baskets. He brought out some kind of dried meat and small, hard cakes. He offered them the food, and they sat looking at the cakes until Faric scooped a tin cup into a water bucket, dipped the cake into the water and took a bite. He passed the cup around and they began eating as Faric began his story.
“This forest you call the Hobswood is, to us, known simply as the Great Forest. Long ago, it was open to the outside lands, and people could come and go freely. We were here, and men like you were here, too. And many other creatures.”
“Like hobs?” Penny asked. “And that troll in the lake? And wraiths?”
Faric nodded. “And many more.” He took a bite of his cake. “But men like you were… weak. Easy to influence. There is magic in the forest, and very few can control it. One such person was named Dourok.”
“The same one you mentioned?” William asked. “The one whose demons attacked us?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you said this happened long ago.”
Faric seemed annoyed.
“I apologize. Continue,” William said and dunked his cake into the cup of water.
