Rowan had nearly four dozen arrows packed into her quiver before the battle, and she had just used the last one. Although she did not miss a single shot, the Domineers’ numbers were too great for her to handle on her own, but with her help, Alex was able to lead the Ravennites around him to stand their ground and keep their enemies away from the tower. Not knowing what else to do, Rowan decided that her best option was to make her way down to the tower armory and retrieve more arrows. The battle was not over yet.
Even from across the distance of the plateau, Rowan’s attention was suddenly captured by a terrifying sound. She looked out with wide eyes across the battlefield and saw the Citadel’s gates being opened. She shook her head in terror, her arms beginning to tremble. It could not be true; the Domineers had taken the gates. Now Malachai and his men would be flanked and crushed, just
The sun was beginning to make its ascent as the sky started to lighten. It was at that moment, when all the Ravennite warriors were being overwhelmed by the immense loss of hope, that a great sound suddenly rang throughout the mountains and over the Citadel. It was a deep sound, loud and echoing, originating nearby from the hills south of the plateau’s land bridge. Alex opened his eyes and gazed up curiously. All the fighting had suddenly ceased everywhere, and everyone turned their attention toward the source of the noise. There was no mistaking; it was the sound of a horn.As it rang up, Robert and Caine looked over to their left. The sound of the horn was originating about a hundred yards away, from the hills skirting the mountains surrounding the Citadel. Caine took a step back in intimidation. “Oh, no,” he muttered, a look of genuine fear on his face.
Robert Morenno and his personal guard stood on their hill aside the fight and looked on hopelessly. Caine was visibly afraid and seemed to know that the battle was already over. The arrival of Darowe’s forces was the last thing he expected. He gave his leader a serious look. “Morenno!” he urged him desperately. “It’s over! We need to retreat!” Robert did not respond to him. He turned his attention toward the bridge and saw Malachai and Alex fighting their way across. Suddenly, he reached over his shoulders and pulled two, curved swords from the scabbards harnessed on his back. With a furious glare on his face, he ran down the small hill and charged into the battle. Caine was shocked and bewildered by his actions. “YOU FOOL!”Malachai had completely forgotten how tired he was. All that mattered to him right now was finishing off their enemy. It had become enti
Summer, 2008 The Adirondacks, New York “the Dark Zone” One does not navigate through the Appalachian Mountains with ease if he does not belong there, especially in the dead of night. The glow of a single propane lantern is hardly enough to illuminate the darkness while surrounded by the great clusters of tall trees. In the pitch blackness of night, a group of young men slowly made their way through the woods. Two of them were leading the way; one holding a small propane lantern in front of him while the other stood by his side, wielding a rough-edged stone shortsword. Following just behind them, a third man was carrying a wounded figure around his shoulders. At the rear of the group a second swordsman was standing guard. They had been lumbering through the woods for a couple of miles, senses on edge as if waiting for something to jump out at them from the trees. The light emitted from the lantern slightly illuminated the holder’s face, revealing a large, dark bruise on his temple.
As the head of the small group began to withdraw his blade, a sudden rustling in the trees behind them caused him to jerk around. Before he could brace himself for the worst, his comrade whom he had sent to scout ahead only moments earlier emerged from the darkness, much to his relief. He let out a soft exhale and released his grip on his stone sword. Then he looked at his returned partner as if waiting for him to provide news of some sort. Instead, he just nodded and gestured to the dark path behind him. That was all the man needed to know that a safe haven of some kind was just ahead of them. He turned to his other compatriots. “Let’s move,” he ordered, then pointed down at the wounded slump still lying on the ground. “Grab him. Let’s get out of here.” Without hesitation, the one who had been carrying the half-conscious victim picked him back up and slung him over his shoulders. The rear guard produced his sword again and resumed his position, while the leader of t
April, 2010 North Elba, New York “Lake Placid” It was barely six in the morning as the reddish spring sun struggled to cast its light through the young boy’s bedroom window. The early sunlight magnifying through the glass would be enough to wake anyone from sleep, but the boy was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his back to the sun, fully clothed and fully groomed, as if he had been up before the break of dawn. He was wearing a light, gray-striped DC hoodie and a pair of bluejeans defaced by holes in the material of various sizes. His dark hair was long and ragged, reaching halfway down the back of his neck and almost over his eyebrows, and his expression was one of bitterness and exhaustion. Not exhaustion due to lack of sleep, but rather mental fatigue. To him the weight of everyday life pressing do
As soon as Nickole descended the stairs, the savory scent of buttermilk pancakes enveloped her. Her mother’s knack for homemade pancakes had the influence to sedate her thoughts and welcome her to a brief state of bliss. Sometimes it was just what she needed to fully awaken in the morning. Nickole walked into the kitchen where her mother was stacking fresh pancakes onto a square ceramic dish. “Morning, Mom,” she greeted cheerily. “Good morning, sweetheart,” her mother responded as she proceeded to cut up an apricot. Nickole opened the refrigerator and pulled out a 59-ounce bottle of Tropicana before walking over to the counter to retrieve a small glass. “That smells really good!” she said, inhaling the warm scent of the breakfast. “Thank you, Nicki,” her mother smiled and placed the dish of pancakes on the island
30 miles south of the Borders of the Dark Zone Three nights earlier The man forced his head above the surface of the river and sucked in a massive gulp of air. The current of the stream had carried him for nearly a mile from the cliff from which he had jumped but now it was finally starting to weaken. The man’s feet were slipping on the rocky floor of the river as it continued to pull him along. He inhaled a deep breath and dove under the surface, scrambling around the creek bed for a handhold of some sort, but the rocks were just too slick. In the middle of attempting to grab onto something to resist the current, it suddenly caused him to strike his head against a higher rock. The man gasped underwater and returned above surface to catch his breath. He brought his hand to his temple and felt a small a
The night was filled with the yipping and howling of a pack of coyotes in the distance. It was late, the sun had long set and the temperature was still dropping. Ranger pulled himself to his feet. It was time to move and find shelter. He held the sword in front of him and gripped it tight in his hand. He squinted as if thinking hard about something, and then the sword’s intertwining blade structure suddenly transformed, instantly retracting down into itself. In no more than a second, the blade had shrunk down to the hilt until it only stuck about eight inches outward. Ranger then reached back and slipped the minimized relic into the harness he was wearing, where it fit perfectly into place. Giving his dark surroundings a quick look around, Ranger set off from the riverbank and up into the mountains. The hills were steep and the darkness of the dusk sky made the venture difficult. And not to mention quite