But just as we reach the Shadowthorn border, the bell tower tolls.
Such Sorrow
Shadowthorn
The bell strikes four times, signaling a demon scourge. It’s either the perfect distraction we need, or the exact complication that will wind up getting all of us killed.
“Run! To the Shadowthorn!” Imryll cries.
With nowhere else left to go, we heed her and bolt. Demons lurch out from the border and I ready the axe in my hand. Güthric, Dimitri, and Silver hold firm on their weapons as well. Kalli stays near the center of us all, but Imryll takes the lead. She uses the druid magic at her disposal to cause a landslide and windstorms, tossing away any demons that might be coming our way.
Once the Crusaders come, she gives them the same treatment.
I try not to look back. These were my friends, my colleagues, after all. But I know they’ll be all right. She is holding back the full force of her power, and only using what is necessary to allow us to escape.
A cloud of darkness suddenly shrouds the bright sun overhead. Just when I think it’s because of our proximity to the Shadowthorn, thunder booms in the sky. Rain falls in sheets, making the grass slick as we race for the tree line.
“You have nothing to fear,” Imryll yells at me over her shoulder. “We will make it.”
I don’t know what she means, why she is saying that only to me. Then I realize, the storm. It must be me. This has happened to me before. Sometimes in Gravenburg, during the harshest of winters, I’d curse the flurrying wind, and right before my eyes it would cease. When Tor died, I sobbed for days and the sky wallowed with me.
A new motivation makes my legs pump faster. Not only do I need to outrun the Crusaders, reach the Shadowthorn, and survive the demon attack, but I need to live long enough for Imryll to explain. I need to know who I am and what I am capable of.
Imryll gives a final quake of the earth. Demons are tossed into the air by the fissures, our path cleared.
She looks back over her shoulder. “You have a clear path now. I’ll scout ahead and find Adrien. Keeping running.”
I nod, despite the pounding of my heart telling me not to let her go.
But while we’re still sprinting, she pulls the draped gown up and over her head, tosses it to me, and with a single leap, turns to feathers and takes to the sky.
My strides only falter for a moment as I watch the raven dive into the Blight ahead. I wonder if I’ll be able to do the same someday, or if it’s even something I want to try. But I don’t linger on the daydream long. Another bout of demons emerges from the shadowy border, claws glistening, and teeth bared.
We charge harder and hold nothing back. Güthric swings his mace like a fatal pendulum of justice. His mighty swings clear the demons by the handful, and while he takes them on, the rest of us push forward. Dimitri’s broadsword slices through two of the demons who flank us, and Silver’s war scythe whistles as she swings it through the air.
A bear of a demon lumbers out from the Blight. It’s red eyes lock onto mine, a promise of death snarling from its twisted maw.
With a ravenous roar, the creature bounds toward me, heavy paws pounding into the dirt and tearing it to shreds in its wake.
“Halira! Watch out!” my sister bellows, too far away and engaged in her own fight to help me.
I drop my aunt’s tunic and yell back at the beast in return, unleashing every bit of pain and hate that’s piled onto my shoulders today. The friend that betrayed me. The cousin that condemned me. The country that’s forsaken me. The roar bolsters me, it becomes an additional layer of armor to shield me from all of the doubt and insecurities I had before. Ever since Ashenvale, I no longer have to worry. I know now that, in the face of death, I will overcome.
I swing my axe, heavy and true, and it buries into the demon’s thick neck. The creature collapses, taking my axe and me down with it. Grimacing, I crash into the creature’s side, my face pressed against its crunchy fur, its blood gushing around my cheek. I waste no time in jumping to my feet. My heart hammers in my chest as I struggle to pull the shadowsteel free.
“Come on! Let’s go!” Dimitri yells, rushing to my side. He grabs my elbow, but I pull back.
“I can’t leave it,” I grunt, the weapon barely budging.
“You have your dagger!”
I heave harder. “I can’t leave it!”
Behind me, Dimitri snarls as another demon engages him. I hear their struggle, hear every whoosh of air that leaves Dimitri’s lungs when he’s knocked back, and every growl when he strikes, but I keep my focus on freeing my weapon.
“Come on,” I grit out, the handle pressed into my chest as I use the weight of my body. The demon its imbedded into rocks with the effort.
Out of the corner of my eye, another demon charges. It bounds on all fours across the field, licking its jowls like it can already taste me. Weaponless, I am an easy target, a quick meal.
“Come on,” I say, heaving again.
The demon draws closer, its snarling audible now, even amidst the rest of the chaos on the field.
Finally, my axe hitches free. I raise it overhead. The creature bounds toward me and I heave my axe forward. It cracks into the demon’s head with the sound of thunder and yet again I find myself struggling to free my weapon.
“We have to go!” Dimitri yells again.
Just as I’m about to scream back at him that I’m not running into the Shadowthorn without a proper weapon, Güthric lumbers toward me. He stomps his foot onto the back of the creature’s neck, takes the handle of my axe into his mighty grip, and yanks the blade with one heave.
He hands it to me with a proud grin before bending to retrieve my aunt’s robe.
We leave Nigh screaming behind us, with no way of knowing if our friends will survive, or how long it will take them to discover we’ve gone. I shouldn’t care. The Shadow Crusade had all but condemned me to die, and my sister. I should be pleased if they were to perish. But I couldn’t be. My thoughts wander to Maxwell, to the Spirit Keep, and to all the others who weren’t quite able to make the cut for a Crusader unit. Hopefully, the captains like Eparah will be able to protect them.
That is, if the demons ever stop coming. I’ve never seen so many push through the border at the same time. The bell tower toll must’ve been like a summoning beacon to all the evil in the area. Even once we’re inside the Shadowthorn, the creatures that dwell inside are still frenzied. Fiends leap overhead from the branches, trying to watch the spectacle through the tree line. They’re so thoroughly excited that they don’t even pay us any mind. Demons still charge through the shadowed underbrush. Most of them barrel right past us, their hunger trained on the meal awaiting them in Arcathain. We tear through the ones who veer course, and for every demon we kill, I tell myself that’s one less friend I’m leaving behind who will die.
Only once we’re deep into the Shadowthorn do the cries of the Crusaders fade, and with it, our sense of urgency. The forest becomes quiet, the kind of silence that unsettles the nerves and pricks the skin with the sensation that someone—or something—is on the watch.
When a raven swoops down from the sky, I finally exhale my fear. The moment her talons land in the black grass, they change to human feet, the rest of her limbs following close behind. Güthric is waiting beside her with her robe just as fast as she’s finished her transformation.