We are exactly three weeks out from our release date! I will present the first three chapters over the next two weeks building up to preorders. Chapter one opens right in the middle of action with our hero in a tight spot. Let's see how he gets out:
Chapter 1:
Three sounds filled the forest of Evellon. The first was the whistling of arrows as they flew through the air, aimed at a single target. The second was the jingling of chainmail as the archers chased after their quarry. The last was the banging of Benrethor’s feet against the soil as he sprinted away from them.
Today definitely could have gone better. Yesterday and the day before could have too, come to think of it. First— Woosh! An arrow whistled past his cheek, interrupting his thoughts. He had to be focused on the here and now. Focused on escape.
Benrethor weaved between the trees, sliding under and vaulting over fallen logs as he ran. The elf hoped his evasive tactics would allow him to stay ahead of them and avoid the incoming arrows. He had already lost them a few times. He just made the mistake of spending the night in a tree.
Apparently, that was the first place a human looked for an elf.
His silver hair catching the first light of the sun may have also given him away. If not his hair, then his glowing blue eyes undoubtedly did.
Stupid. Benrethor should have kept to the tree and never looked. So what if he heard his pursuers tracking him from below? Had the elf waited for them to pass, it would have been a simple trek back to Vaemyr.
Woosh, another arrow whistled past him. The breeze of the shaft cooled Benrethor’s neck as it flew by. That was too close, the elf thought as he vaulted another log.
Wait. The bark of the log was a dull brown, not a deep chestnut red. He was getting deeper into the woods. A little too deep. A couple more miles and he would be in an area of Evellon even the Caesar’s men feared to enter. Crap. How far had they gone? Over the last couple of days, Benrethor was certain he had slowly been looping his way back home. He had been bringing them deeper into the dark heart of the wood.
Before he could come up with an alternative route, an arrow finally found its mark: His right shoulder. Benrethor cried out as his neck contracted with the sharp pain of his shoulder. He fell to the ground, gripping his wound.
“Finally!” the archer said.
Before the elf could continue his flight, one of the soldiers tackled him, snapping the arrow as they slammed into the grass. They each struggled for dominance; Benrethor trying to escape, the human attempting to subdue him. Each time they rolled across the grass, Benrethor’s shoulder screamed at him. Neither noticed the hill they both were slowly approaching in their struggle.
“Henry!” one of his comrades cried out. “You’re nearing a ledge!”
The pair briefly looked ahead to see the aforementioned danger. As ‘Henry’ continued to look on, Benrethor took the moment to punch him. Oddly enough, it hurt the elf more than the man. As Benrethor shook his stinging wrist, Henry returned the favor with a punch of his own, sending the elf into a daze.
Henry stood and hoisted Benrethor up. “End of the line, pointy.”
Benrethor grinned as he took hold of Henry’s shoulders. The elf wasn’t giving up that easily. He pulled the human forward, sending them both over the hill.
The human yelped with surprise as they both fell down the steep slope, separating as they slid down the hill. Benrethor quickly managed to get control over his descent with the human following soon after. Using the trees as fulcrums, Henry slid over to resume his attack on the elf. Benrethor tried to escape, however, Henry seemed to know what he was doing.
The pair hit the ground hard, the abrupt stop separating them.
Despite landing feetfirst, Benrethor felt most of the pain in his back. His joints were probably already too sore to care about this added pain. His back, on the other hand, had remained mostly intact until now. Now, it hurt like he had landed directly on a root. Not the most graceful landing for an elf.
Benrethor groaned as he tried to get up. When he opened his eyes, he saw the dark and tainted woods around him. The black and thorny trees blocked out most light as this was the thickest part of Evellon. They were now in the Deep-Woods, the darkest part of Evellon.
While most of the Elven forest was renowned for its beauty, like most worldly pleasures, it held a dark heart. The heavenly beauty of the borders faded to worldly allure as one traversed further into the woods. The bark grew darker, the branches thicker.
By the time one reaches the core, the beauty had faded into a twisted mockery of life. Thorns strangled the black trees and leaves had long since decayed into the mud. What little life existed was twisted and dark, blotting out the sun and leaving a feeling few felt comfortable in.
Benrethor cursed as he stared at the woods blotting out the light. He took a direct route. Even after escaping the Caesar’s men, it would take Benrethor two days to return home; three if he took a day to mourn Emitha where they left her dead.
He never buried her. The elf had immediately sought vengeance and succeeded. Now, two days later, he lay in agony in the Deep-Woods. Had killing their captain been worth it? Benrethor’s chest still ached every time he thought of Emitha, knowing he would never see her smile again. He would never see her do anything but sleep.
The elf’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crying. Benrethor turned to Henry, expecting him to be the source. However, the human was growling in pain as he was also recovering from the fall. Benrethor scanned the opening to identify the source of the weeping. Listening closer, the elf heard the weeping multiply. The crying was all around them with a variety of voices, ranging from howling men to keening women. Benrethor’s heart skipped a beat when he realized it was coming from the trees themselves.
Benrethor knew the Deep-Wood wasn’t in its natural state. The life had faded to a corrupt shadow of its former self. He knew the rumor of a witch living in the dark heart of Evellon, but he never believed it and simply discounted it as nothing more than a rumor. The rumor now held merit.
They needed to get out of here. Now. However, when Benrethor tried to get to his feet, he collapsed right back down to the twisted earth. The elf’s back spasmed and his legs told him no.
The human recovered and was now on his feet. The sound of metal scratching metal caught Benrethor’s attention as Henry drew his sword.
“Time to end this,” Henry hissed.
Benrethor felt as though something bad was about to happen, something different from the impending blade. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew the human shouldn’t step where his feet were carrying him. The elf sensed danger from above. Something was watching them from the trees, ready to pounce.
Henry’s slow, limping approach was cut short by a hiss from above. His head snapped up in that direction just as a monster dropped down. The creature tore out his throat with a supernatural shriek, cutting off his screams of terror.
A drop bear. They were a twisted version of the mythical koala created by the same dark magic which made one go mad. The same magic was responsible for the Deep-Wood. The animals hunted their prey by ‘dropping’ down from the trees, before eating whatever, or whoever was unlucky enough to step into their domain. Hence, the nickname ‘drop’ bear.
Benrethor always thought it was just something his father had made up to keep him from going this deep into the woods. After all, the concept was straight up ridiculous. Apparently, he was straight-up wrong.
Once the creature had finished gnawing off the human’s screams, it looked up into the elf’s terrified, glowing eyes. The drop bear wiped away the blood dripping from its dirty and tangled fur. The gesture was surprisingly manlike, creating a further sense of unease in Benrethor.
The creature snarled and pounced at him. Benrethor reflexively threw his leg up into the drop bear’s stomach, close lining it with an unnatural squeal.
The drop bear quickly recovered with a snarl as Benrethor rose to his feet. The elf’s gaze shifted to Henry’s sword. The bear stood between him and it. Benrethor muttered a curse.
Seeing no better option, Benrethor threw up his arms as the drop bear pounced. Its claws tore into his arms, rather than the throat. Ignoring the sharp sting from his arms, Benrethor flailed the creature aside as he spread his arms.
He dove forward and caught the hilt of the sword, swinging it around. Unfortunately, when Benrethor swung for the grounded creature, it was already airborne. Thus, the attack was useless against the small creature, which simply leaped over the blade.
Benrethor’s free-hand caught the neck of the drop bear and he threw it to the side. He was quickly on his feet, then raised Henry’s sword. “Get back!” the elf yelled.
The drop bear suddenly paused with a look of confusion. It purred like a savage cat as it tilted its head sideways.
“Back!” Benrethor waived the sword again.
The creature began clawing at an invisible ache within its head.
“Back!” the elf screamed once more.
The drop bear bore its fangs and hissed before fleeing up the nearest tree.
When he was sure it was gone, the elf collapsed to his knees and began panting. Benrethor closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself. It was only now, the silver-haired elf realized how much energy he had exerted. The rush of adrenaline had worn off and all that remained was exhaustion. Benrethor felt beads of sweat trickle down along his forehead, while more stuck his dark blue shirt to his chest. The elf rested his head against the hilt of the sword as he used it to support himself, his bloodied hands gripping the coldness of its metal.
He had blood on his hands because he had killed a man, the leader of the men who had pursued him. Benrethor had no regrets. The man got what he deserved for attacking Emitha. If only Benrethor had been strong enough to save her. If only he was strong enough to have killed all of the men who had hurt them. If only…
After a few moments, the elf opened his eyes. That was the past. He needed to focus on the present if he was to see the future. Let’s see where we are, Benrethor thought as he rose, leaning on the sword to help himself up. The weeping of the trees resumed, quieter but nonetheless present. The elf gazed at the twisted life around him.
The human corpse that had arrived with him was no longer in sight. He saw a trail of blood led to the edge of a moving tangle of vines. Within was no doubt the dead body that had been reduced to a meal.
He had to get out of here as soon as possible.
Benrethor looked at the hill he had rolled down with Henry. It was steep, but not enough to prevent climbing it. However, when Benrethor moved towards it, the thorny branches began crowding his path on their own. He then thought better of this route.
Looking around, he saw only one clear path emerge from the tangle of thorns as if the forest wanted to lead him further into its domain…
Seeing no better option, Benrethor thought, Screw it, and followed the alley of the lamenting woods.
Chapter 2 will drop this Saturday ;)
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