The Lion's Crown (The Emberlyn Chronicles Book 1), page 13
“Magic,” Faric said, “can be used in dark ways to grant long life. And strength. And the power to sway men. Dourok used this magic to raise an army of men like you. He sent them against his own people… my people… and thousands were killed. But there were others who could command the magic, and they drove Dourok and his army back. All the men like you were eventually slain or expelled, and the forest was separated from the outside world so that no others could return to be swayed by Dourok. A great bog was sunk around the forest and enchanted to confuse those who wandered into it. A magical ward was also raised to keep Dourok’s people inside. The black trees on the edge of the wood draw power from the land, strengthening the ward, and their appearance is meant to frighten away those who do make it through the bog, to make the forest look dark and forbidding. Although the wards have served well enough, they are not always effective. They are attuned to detect Dourok’s corruption, and while Dourok’s men are violently repelled by them, sometimes other creatures manage to get out.”
He looked from William to the others. “How did you come to be here?”
“It was not easy,” said Sir William. “We were attacked by a wraith and besieged by hobs. And finally that monster in the lake blocked our way back.”
“It is under the influence of Dourok. This valley was once open to all, and the path beside the river was safe for travel. But when Dourok enthralled the lake creature, it turned vicious, attacking all who passed by the shore.”
“How did Dourok survive?” Penny asked. “If your people won the battle, why was he left alive?”
“We cannot find him. He has lived these centuries hidden from sight, corrupting good men, twisting them with his magic. You have seen the result. You call them demons, but we call them the Dourosh… the People of Dourok.”
“And what are your people called?”
Faric smiled. “We are the Lanosh, after Lanioc, who was our king during the rise of Dourok.”
“And you haven’t been able to defeat the Dourosh after all this time?” William asked.
“A new horde of Dourosh rise up every generation. We drive them back, away from our city, but they always regain their strength. He corrupts our people when he can, turning them against us. The Dourosh seem to be at the height of their power now, and are coming over the hills to the north in increasing numbers.”
“How does he corrupt people?”
Faric frowned. “Such things are difficult to explain. But those of us who are made scouts are chosen because we are resistant to Dourok’s corruption. We can be alone in the wilderness, close to his soldiers, and not be swayed.”
“Who chooses you?” asked Penny.
“Ever since the rise of Dourok, we have needed leaders who can manipulate magic to be able to resist Dourok. The selection process is an arduous one. I was exposed to raw magic to see how I fared. Those who cannot resist it spend months in recovery.”
Penny looked at her brother. He was enjoying his cake, but he had left it in the water too long. It was now a crumbling, soggy mess in his hands. “Is that what happened to my brother? Was he exposed to magic?”
Faric watched Owen for a moment. “The Great Forest is not safe for people like you. Those who aren’t killed by the Dourosh can find death in any number of ways. But if one of my people finds an outsider first, he is taken in and protected until he can be returned to your world. But he cannot be allowed to tell of what he has seen. His mind must be enfeebled.”
Penny reached out and brushed her fingers against Owen’s cheek. “You did this to him on purpose?”
“For his protection as much as ours. Dourok would attempt to find and corrupt any outsiders who knew what lies within the Great Forest. The magic of the forest would mark them; they would carry a trace of it for the rest of their lives. Dourok could control such people even at a distance—he wouldn’t need to leave the forest—and they could become his link to the outside, his agents in your world. That cannot be allowed to happen. Your people are too weak; Dourok must not be allowed to swell his ranks with your soldiers. And for those who do come in, the enfeeblement makes them immune to Dourok’s influence.”
William was frowning at the fire. “If I understand you, sir,” he said, “then our minds are to be enfeebled as well.”
Faric sighed. “It is not my decision, but yes.”
“Whose decision is it?” asked Sir Alfred.
“Queen Anneli’s. We will leave to see her in the morning.” He glanced at Penny. “The enfeeblement can be reversed, and I will ask her to restore your brother for the time you are with us.”
“Thank you,” said Penny. She looked at Faric across the fire and bit her lip. “There’s something different about you,” she said.
He gave her a puzzled look.
“When we first met you, you spoke poorly… haltingly. You are much more eloquent now.”
Faric smiled. “I apologize. It is my training. If I seemed too knowledgeable of your ways and language when we first met, you may not have trusted me. It served my purpose for you to see in me some ignorance, some innocence, and so I spoke like a child.”
Sir Harold was scrutinizing Faric’s face. “And how do you know so much of our world?”
“We make occasional forays into the kingdoms surrounding the Great Forest to gather information. Some basic spells serve to keep us hidden from your sight, but we are sometimes seen.” He brought his hand up to one of his horns. “These unfortunate encounters feed your stories about demons. But it is a worthwhile risk. If Dourok does ever find a way to break the ward surrounding the forest and enter your lands, we will need to know all we can about you.”
“And what if we refuse to come with you?” asked Harold. “What if we refuse to have our minds enfeebled?”
Faric picked up a stick and poked at the fire. “Two of your party were killed, but you were fortunate today. The Dourosh do not often act rationally; it is an effect of Dourok’s corruption. But if they had realized in time that you were from the outside, they would have attempted to capture you instead. They would have seemed kind and escorted you safely to the edge of the wood. But once you were back in Emberlyn, you would have been twisted like those creatures that attacked you, made dark and cruel by Dourok’s magic, and would have been forced to spread the corruption amongst your people. You would have been responsible for the downfall of your great kingdom. Believe me, the enfeeblement is a kindness compared to that.”
Silence fell over the group as they all considered Faric’s words. Penny could see that Stephen and Harold were looking at William, waiting for any sign from him.
“We will meet your Queen Anneli,” he said at last, “and appeal our case. Surely there must be some other answer.”
Faric shrugged. “Your fate was always in her hands. She is not unkind, but if there is some other way, I do not know of it.” He reached for one of the unoccupied blankets and pulled it over him. “You should be safe here. If any Dourosh enter the area, I will know. Best sleep now, if you can. It is a three-day journey to the city of Lanion.”
Faric dropped down onto his side and closed his eyes. Penny watched him for several minutes, but he didn’t seem to be pretending. He was really going to sleep. She looked over at William.
He sighed. “We should all rest,” he said, removing his bedroll from his pack. “If Faric says we will be safe, there is no need to stand watch.”
Sir Harold was squinting at the prone figure of Faric, but he also began preparing his bed. Penny laid out her bedroll then set Owen’s close by her side. Another wave of emotion swept over her as she settled down to sleep. George was dead. Sir Alfred was dead. And even if the rest of them lived, they would all be returned to their homes enfeebled like Owen.
Maybe that would be better. If she could forget everything that had happened, forget seeing George murdered by the Dourosh, perhaps she could be happy. Owen was happy. Despite their poverty and their struggles, he’d returned from the Hobswood a happy boy and had grown into a happy young man. They would need someone to care for them, but there were people in the village who would be sympathetic. Maybe King Edward would even see to their care if word of their return ever got back to Granisle Castle.
Owen rolled over in his bed, and she felt his arm come to rest against hers. The touch comforted her, and she fought an urge to hold him until she fell asleep. She also realized Sir William was close by on her other side. He had held her when Owen had wandered off. He had sought to comfort her, and his embrace had helped. She thought of him teaching her to read in the lights from the pool by the fountain. Once again, she wished to wake up there and discover that the entire day had been a horrible nightmare. But she knew she wouldn’t; she knew it wasn’t.
She turned over onto her other side, away from Owen, and opened her eyes. Sir William was facing her. His eyes were also open. Had he been watching her?
He smiled gently, and in spite of everything, she managed to smile back. She waited for him to break eye contact, but he didn’t, and she didn’t want him to. That look, whatever it might mean, was what she needed. And it didn’t take long for her to understand what it did mean. When her eyelids started to feel heavy, he was still holding her gaze, still silently letting her know that he was there for her, that he was willing to give her whatever she needed. His eyes said that and so much more, and they were the last thing she saw before she drifted off into sleep.
Chapter Twenty
The Hunters
It was still night when Penny was awakened by Sir William. At least, she thought it was. Underground as they were, she couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t feel like she’d been asleep for more than two or three hours.
There was a glow in the small hideaway, but it wasn’t coming from the fire. She looked up and noticed a crystal hanging from the ceiling; reddish light shone from it as it slowly spun.
“We must go!” Faric said. “This way!”
Penny grabbed her satchel without bothering to roll up her bed. She threw Owen’s satchel over his arm and got him to his feet then looked to the far side of the hideaway. Faric pushed over a barrel and rolled it away from the wall. Behind it was a small hole, even narrower than the opening they’d entered through.
“The Dourosh?” Sir William asked, stepping over to move the barrel completely out of the way.
Faric nodded. He pointed at the shining crystal. “They are near. This tunnel will exit on the other side of a hillock. Hopefully it will be far enough away.”
Faric dropped to his hands and knees, and his head disappeared into the tunnel.
“Right,” William said, wiping his eyes. “Sir Stephen, you go next. Then Owen, then Penny. Harold, you and I will bring up the rear.”
Penny waited for Stephen to crawl into the tunnel then pushed Owen in after him. As she was about to go in herself, the cloth covering the main entrance to the hideaway was thrown back, and a figure slid inside.
Penny screamed as William and Harold drew their swords. William pushed Penny toward the escape tunnel as Harold lunged to meet the intruder. His sword struck the crude blade of the Dourosh, sending the twisted creature back against the entrance. Outside, they could hear more of them, but Harold held his foe at the entrance, keeping them from entering.
He skewered the Dourosh through the stomach and turned to look back at Sir William as he pulled his blade free. “Go! Get the others to safety! I’ll hold them at bay.”
William shook his head. “Remember what Faric said about Dourok twisting the minds of men, turning them against their friends? If they take you alive—”
“They will not take me alive. I swear it.”
A pair of boots slid down through the opening and got caught on the dead Dourosh at the entryway. Sir Harold stabbed upward into the tunnel, eliciting a scream of anguish.
“Come now, Sir Harold!” William yelled. “They’ll be stalled for several moments as they remove those bodies.”
Harold stood his ground. “Not long enough. They’ll catch us in the tunnel. Go. Please.”
Sir William did not get a chance to reply. Harold’s eyes widened, and he half turned. An arrow was between his shoulder blades. Another shaft sped down the tunnel and planted itself in his arm.
William let out an incoherent yell and pushed Penny back toward the opening. She turned her head and saw Sir Harold stagger back toward them. William put his hand out, steadying the other knight.
“I’ll hold… as long as I can,” Harold said with great effort.
William nodded and sheathed his sword. “Bless you.”
Penny turned her head back around. She had to move. Sir William was already at her heels. She crawled on hands and knees as quickly as she could, ever conscious of the breathing and scrambling of Sir William behind her. The clash of steel reached her ears followed by Harold’s voice crying out.
Ahead, she could see the dim glow of starlight, and a moment later she could smell the clean air. Sir Stephen reached down and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her up out of the hole. She looked back as William pulled himself up. From all angles but one, the tunnel looked like nothing more than a furrow between two boulders, and she wouldn’t have looked at it twice if they’d passed it during the day. Next to the hole, she spotted a small shrub that had been uprooted and guessed that it had further camouflaged the opening.
“Sir Harold?” Stephen asked as William again drew his sword.
William shook his head, and everyone understood.
Faric was already moving along the bottom of the ravine they’d emerged into, waving for them to follow. Penny grabbed Owen’s hand and went off after him as Stephen and William trailed behind, their swords at the ready.
From over the hill, she could hear shouting in a strange language. She could also hear grunting and scraping from behind them; some of the Dourosh were emerging from the hidden tunnel. She dared not turn her head and risk losing her footing, so she kept her ears attuned to the sounds as she ran.
Ahead of her, Faric was dancing lightly over the ground, moving more like an animal than a man. Several times he stopped so the others could catch up. The last time he stopped, however, he didn’t look back to see where they were. He drew a long knife from beneath his cloak and slashed an arrow out of the air. Another sped toward his head, and he twisted his neck, letting it slide just past his ear.
Penny drew the knife William had given her and dropped onto her haunches, taking Owen with her. Faric scrambled back toward her as William and Stephen caught up to them.
“More Dourosh.”
Stephen cursed. “How do they keep finding us?”
“These are not the ones who attacked you before. These are hunters. The Dourosh know who you are now. They want you alive.”
“They didn’t take Sir Harold alive,” William said.
Faric frowned. “They will kill you if you give them no choice.”
William shifted his sword to his left hand and wiped the sweat from his other palm onto his trousers. “What now? Are we surrounded?”
Faric nodded. “I am sorry.”
They stood as several figures appeared above the ravine. More slipped out from behind trees to the front and rear. In the darkness, Penny could make out half a dozen bows, and she knew an arrow was trained on each of them.
William turned in a slow circle. “Faric, if any of us are taken alive, what will it mean for Emberlyn?”
“Death for many of you. Enslavement for the rest. The Dourosh will not only conquer the Great Forest and your kingdom, they will march west. They will not stop until all lands are under their control. That has always been Dourok’s desire.”
William’s eyes met Penny’s. “Then none of us must be taken.”
She squeezed Owen’s hand more tightly. She knew what he meant.
“But we fight, yes?” asked Sir Stephen. “We take as many of these devils with us as we can?”
William nodded. “We fight. Until there is no other option.”
The Dourosh were slowly closing the distance. Penny could just make out faces now, and their dark, twisted features did not make her afraid as they had before. These faces made her angry. She pushed Owen behind her, into the center of their small circle, and raised her knife.
“When the time comes,” she said to Sir William, who was beside her, “Owen will be my responsibility.”
William nodded. He placed his free hand against the small of her back. “It has been my honor to know you, Penny.”
A Dourosh lunged at her, swinging a flail like the one that had killed Sir Alfred. Penny screamed and rushed toward her foe, taking him by surprise. Her blade entered his belly beneath the leather vest he was wearing, and together they toppled onto the ground. She heard the others yell out as they were also engaged, but looking up, she saw that they were outnumbered by at least five to one. She pulled her knife from the dying Dourosh and turned back toward Owen, who had sat down on the ground, his eyes pinched shut as he held his hands over his ears.
Sir William protected her from the swing of a blade as she scrambled back toward her brother and pulled him into her arms. “It’s all right, Owen,” she whispered. “I’m here.”
The knife felt heavy in her hand as she sat cradling Owen. Faric and the two knights were a blur of motion around her. The bow-armed Dourosh still hadn’t released their arrows, no doubt looking for an opportunity to wound one of them without delivering a fatal injury.
As she watched the battle, she realized that wasn’t entirely correct. Faric, while battling hand to hand, was also knocking arrows from the air with his long knife. Those he didn’t strike down he was dodging, twisting out of their way even when he was turned in the other direction. She realized that his movements were more than human, that he was acting with a speed and foresight that had as their source something other than training and agility. Whatever he was, he was no simple scout.
She felt for a brief moment that they might yet win, but Faric was now surrounded by four Dourosh and appeared to be tiring. William and Alfred were fighting back to back, their movements also slowing. And, on the ridge above the ravine, more Dourosh had appeared and were scrambling down the slope.
