The Dark Forest, Part 3

and this is the conclusion of the story i started three weeks ago...cheers and i hope you've liked it. :)
-enna

A Father’s Love
I bind my arm tightly with a clean cloth. Then I slip back into the house. Within five minutes, I am racing down the path to the west, one I have ne’er taken before. I had very good reason to avoid this path – this trail leads to the Dark Elf’s castle. I know exactly where he will take her. The legend says that he must take her to the highest point in the kingdom.

His castle is a forbidding one. We live on the slopes of a mountain, and the Dark Elf dwells at its very top. A single tower rises above the rest, one with a flat top and no roof. It is here that he will attempt to sacrifice her.

I heft the rope higher on my shoulder, and double-check the grappling hook in my belt. I can feel my strength trickling out of me along with my blood. The wound is deep, but the well of my love for Amarie is deeper. I will save her before his wound kills me.

I know the words of the song Amarie often sings, and I sing it now, to give me strength and courage to continue.

“Lux terrae in nocte amulavisti
“Ocula mea aperuisti, me videas
“Forma ut te adorare viscum illud fecerit
“Spes vitae tecum acta

“Rex dierum omnium, O sublatus summiter
“Glorificus in caelo superno
“Summisse ad terram creatam te vidisti
“Omnis pro amoris causa pauperis fieristi”*

As I finish the song, I find myself at the foot of the castle wall. I take a deep breath and begin the long, laborious climb upward.


On the Tower
I stand over the girl, my triumph complete. Her flame-like hair fans out around her head, and her icy blue eyes stare into mine. Her dark bonds now bind her hands and feet to the altar, and she remains gagged. I slowly take the silver dagger into my hand. It is heavy, but its weight is a solid presence that reminds me what I am about to do.

I suddenly hear something from behind me, and I whirl around, my knife leaping to accompany the dagger in my hand. That blasted man, Kristof, is standing there. A grappling hook and a rope attest to how he climbed here. Before I have time to take in more, he throws himself upon me and wrests the dagger from my hand. I dive after him, but he throws the dagger over the edge of the tower. I rush to the verge just in time to see the dagger shatter into pieces on the rocks below. Shaking in fury, I turn back towards this meddling father.

He is standing next to his daughter and cries to the skies, “Lux terrae, libere filiam meam!”** A blinding light slashes through the bonds that hold the girl to the altar.

“NO!” I scream, and jump towards her, my knife slashing down to kill the girl. I must have this power!

Kristof jumps in my way. He takes the blow without a grunt and knocks the knife from my hand. We wrestle on the top of the tower, unaware of our surroundings. Suddenly, there is nothing beneath my back. I look down to see myself falling. Kristof is holding me tight so that I cannot cast a spell. I struggle with the energy of a wild animal. I cannot die! I must become invincible! I must...


Epilogue
Sacrifice Out of Love
We finally found that which is stronger than the evil of the Dark Elf – the love of a father for his daughter. My father gave his life on that tower so that I could live unafraid of the darkness. I stumble down the stairs of the tower and out to my father’s broken body. I murmur a prayer for his soul, then dig a grave for him with a shovel-like piece of wood. After I bury my father, I return to the clearing to try to rebuild a life for myself.

Two months later, I am the only one in the area besides the birds and the animals. I decide to leave this forest. Despite the Dark Elf’s death, it remains dark. It will take a long time for the forest to recover from the years of dark magic he wreaked upon it. While it recuperates, I will go to inhabited lands and tell them the story of the Dark Elf and hope that their land will be able to recognize evil. I do not wish for every land to become like the Dark Forest.

*Light of the world, you stepped down into darkness
Opened my eyes, let me see
Beauty that made this heart adore you
Hope of a life spent with you
King of all days, O so highly exalted
Glorious in heaven above
Humbly you came to the earth you created
All for love’s sake became poor
**Light of the world, free my daughter!

The Dark Forest, Part 2

if there's even anyone left who reads this, here's the second part...it's a little early, but oh well...
-enna


To the Cottage
The orange of the early sunset paints the windows of the small cottage a fiery gold. I shudder as I gallop toward the place. Too much light is in this clearing, where dwells the girl with hair of flame and eyes of ice. It is fitting, then, that I must sacrifice this light-dweller to bring darkness to this whole world.

I crave darkness above all else. I am originally a subterranean dweller, but my own kin threw me out when they saw the blackness of my heart. Fitting it is, what they call me. Yes, I know what they say behind my back – that I am evil incarnate, that my powers are derived from the dark god Pyragmon. These frightened creatures call all magic-users “elves” to distinguish us from those who do not control the forces of the night. I watch them from my tower, struggling with mundane tasks, when if they would simply apply themselves, they could finish the tasks with a snap of their fingers.

No matter. Soon, they will realize my power. By then, I will be unstoppable. But first, I need the girl.

I’ve tried to acquire limitless power without the sacrifice – mainly because I knew the villagers would try to protect her identity. However, none of my efforts yielded any result worth mentioning. I must obtain this level of power!

The trees around me give way to the clearing of light. I quickly have my mount, a stallion as black as my own heart, back out of the light.

The girl is there, wringing the water out of some white piece of material. She is bent over a basin filled with sudsy water, completely unaware of my presence. I watch her for a little while, almost fascinated by the ways of this strange creature.

I cannot see her eyes from where I sit, but her hair is stunningly obvious. Flame-gold, it tumbles down her back in a river of light, contrasting with the blue of her simple dress. Her skin is so white, I almost cannot tell the difference between her hands and the white cloth she is washing. She suddenly raises her head, and I catch myself before I gasp. Her icy blue eyes are clear and piercing, and seem to have beams of light coming from them. Her features are small and delicate, her lips full and red. Most men would call her a beauty.

For me, it is simply another confirmation that this is the girl I seek.

She turns back to her washing. As she does so, I dismount, landing silently on the forest floor. She is seemingly unaware of my slow approach. I slip behind her without a word, and am surprised when she speaks. “You don’t need to sneak around,” she says, and turns towards me.

Her eyes widen in shock when she sees me. I smile, mocking her surprise. “Am I not who you thought?”

Her skin, already so pale, has managed to become even moreso. She does not answer my question, only speaks three small words. “The Dark Elf.”


Confrontation
I have never seen the Dark Elf before, but I know that this is he. His skin is deathly pale, almost as pale as my own. Even the slight hint of olive cannot lessen the contrast between his skin and his black hair, or his eyes. His eyes are what truly frighten me. Blood-red, they seem demonic. Although, if all the stories are true, he is a demon.

He takes another step toward me. His eyes never leaving mine, he snaps his long fingers. A horse with the same demonic eyes trots out of the forest toward the Dark Elf. He speaks again, in his deceptively pleasant voice. “Will you come for a ride with me?” I know he means a ride to my death, though why he chose me for such a terror is beyond my comprehension.

Before I have a chance to answer, my father runs into the clearing. He has his long knife in his hand, ready to fight. “No! Not Amarie!”

The Dark Elf turns to him. “I don’t believe I asked you, Kristof.” A shimmering knife appears in his hand as he speaks.

“She is not the one you need,” my father shoots back.

The Dark Elf smiles mockingly and gestures around the clearing. “Then tell me, Kristof, where can I find another virgin with hair of flame and eyes of ice?”

All at once, I know why he has come. “You want me for the sacrifice.” I speak calmly, not revealing the turmoil and chaos now whirling within my soul.

The elf turns back toward me. “Yes,” he says simply. “Will you come?”

I will my voice not to shake as I reply. “I will never give my life to Pyragmon!”

In two bounds, the elf is at my side. He thrusts his knife into his belt and grabs my arm in a grip so tight, I cry out. He wrenches me up, throws me on his horse, and begins to tie me to the saddle. Everything is suddenly moving so much faster than normal, as if someone decided to speed up time.

My father bellows, as a wounded animal does. He crosses the clearing at lightning speed and raises his knife to strike and kill the elf.

Suddenly, time has stopped moving so fast. Instead, it moves so slow that every second seems to be an hour. I am held captive, both by the rope and by the horror of the scene before me.
The Dark Elf’s knife shimmers into his hand. Some distant corner of my mind wonders how it got there; I did not see his hand return to his belt. He parries my father’s blow and knocks the knife from Kristof’s hand. The knife flashes in the air. Crimson blood sprays from a wound. My father cries out. The Dark Elf quickly wipes his knife on the grass and returns it to his belt. He strides to me, quickly finishes tying the knots, and mounts. The animal rears and paws the sky with its hooves. As it dashes from the light into the darkness of the forest, I crane my head for a final look at my father.

He is lying upon the ground. Blood is streaming from a gash in his arm. He looks at me, and the sorrow and anger in his eyes begins to consume his features. Before he can stand, I am whisked away to a petrifying and uncertain future.


“With Your Blood”
I am thrilled. This was an extremely easy venture. The village is gone, yes, but I didn’t need any of those people. They were expendable, unnecessary for anything except my brief enjoyment. I revel in the pain I cause others. Though I possess the dark abilities to twist the world to my liking, I still relish the chance to apply my hand to my favorite craft.

The girl struggles against her bonds. I chuckle softly, a sound completely swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Oddly enough, though, the complete darkness won’t envelop me as it normally does. It stays back, allowing the softer darkness of night to surround the girl. She seems to be saying something. I stop my horse and dismount. I wrench her face so that she can see me. Her eyes are filled with tears and some petty human emotion. I whisper to her, “No calling for help. No lightness will reach you now.” I rip a length of material from the hem of her dress and use it to gag her, then untie her from the saddle.

She attempts to run. I catch her easily and laugh. The haunting sound echoes off the trees. I tie her hands and feet, and loop the rope around her arms and legs for good measure. I lift her in front of the saddle, then remount and urge my horse onward. We are mere minutes away from the castle.

Her struggling does not cease the entire way there. Though her mutterings have stopped, the darkness refuses to enfold me. I curse this creature of the light. It is she who must be keeping the darkness from me.

We clatter into the courtyard. I dismount and drop the portcullis. I turn back to the girl, sitting on the black stallion. He is fidgety. Her eyes are wide in terror as he prances, snorting and pawing the ground. Suddenly, he rears and screams. It is an eerie sound, almost human with a demonic undertone. The girl screams as well as she falls from his back. He bolts from the courtyard, and I dart to catch the girl. She must not be harmed before the sacrifice. I set her lightly on her feet and loose her bonds.

Her clear, icy eyes seem to probe the depths of my own bloody orbs. “Why have you brought me here?”

I am pleasant with her. No need to frighten her more than is absolutely necessary, else she might hurt herself. “With your blood, I can have the power I seek.”

“Then why do you not simply cut my arm and take a vial of the blood? You can do that; just let me go to my father!” She holds out her white forearm, the blue veins showing clearly against her alabaster skin, her eyes pleading.

I gently push her hand back to her side and lean closer, until her face is mere inches from mine. “I cannot take a single vial of blood. The sacrifice demands all of your blood.”

A fury ignites in her eyes as she backs away. “No! I will not be an instrument of your dark god! Lux terrae, orationem meam audi! Adiuve...”*

“NO!” I screech. Her words brand themselves like light upon my vision. I cannot let her finish! I throw myself at her and tackle her to the ground. As we fall, I roll so that it is not she who strikes the ground, but my own back. I put my hand over her mouth. She bites it. I speak quickly. “Lige lucem in loco hoc!”**

She is bound by ropes of darkness. Her mouth is covered by one strong strand. Her clear eyes shimmer with defiance. I smile back mockingly, then twist my hand in a strange movement. She is lifted to a high tower with a flat roof. This is the tower whence the sacrifice will take place. I begin to mount the stairs. The time is almost here. Soon I shall be invincible.

*Light of the world, hear my prayer! Help...
**Bind the light in this place!

The Dark Forest, Part 1

this is a story i wrote that's too short for a book, so i'm doing it in serial format here. i'll post it in three sections, one a week. cheers! it's called the dark forest.
-enna


The Dark Forest
Prologue
The Advent of the Dark Elf

People speak of evil in hushed tones. They never say its name out loud. Even if they know it is there, they won’t acknowledge it. Or they don’t recognize it when it walks into their lives. It’s easier to simply ignore the evil, and hope that it doesn’t become so great that it must be stopped. By then, it is too late.

We did not recognize evil when it walked into our forest, that day long ago. I was unable to recognize it; I was not even a day old. But I have heard the stories.

In the months before I was born, a tall, dark stranger entered the village. No one had ever seen him before. They said he was a sorcerer, an elf. He never gave a name. He simply walked around the square a few times, muttering under his breath, then left without speaking to anyone.

No one thought anything of it, until our beloved king grew sick. He clung to life for two whole months, then died quietly. That very day, the dark stranger, the elf, came back and took over the castle. It was not a difficult job; the king had no heirs, and the army feared his skills with dark magic. Starting that night, the darkness began to overcome the daylight. At night, fearsome creatures began to prowl. No one went out after nightfall.


I was born the same night the king died and the Dark Elf took over. My parents had been waiting eagerly for my birth, my mother having gone through two miscarriages already. However, something went wrong that night. She died, not fifteen minutes after I was born.

So I came into a world of encroaching darkness, and the Dark Elf began his reign. Father moved out of the village not long after Mother’s death, into a small cottage about half a mile from the village. Here, he raised me. He and I, and the rest of the villagers, cowered in the darkness and prayed for the daylight to overcome the darkness.


Remember what I said about people being unable to uproot evil once it has taken hold? I was wrong. There is one way that evil can be overcome once it has a solid hold, and that is by a supreme act of that which is stronger. Someone just needs to find it.

Remembrance
After finishing the milking, I walk through the door of the little cottage my father and I share. He looks up from his seat at the table and smiles at me softly, then beckons to the chair next to him. A place is set, with steaming oatmeal and an empty glass.

He doesn’t talk much anymore, my father. He said once that sorrow was best expressed in silence. Sometimes, I’m treated to a rare story of my mother, or the happy days before the darkness. I hope to hear one today. He is a gifted storyteller; he used to be a minstrel before he met my mother, before the darkness covered our forest.

I pour myself some of the new milk, then sit down to eat my breakfast. For a little while, the only sounds are my spoon against my bowl, the scratching of my father’s pen against parchment as he makes a list of what he needs from the village, and the birds chirping outside. As I finish the oatmeal, I hear his chair scrape against the floor as he stands up and walks to a cabinet.

“What are you getting, Father?” I am confused; we rarely have anything other than oatmeal with some form of berries for breakfast.

He turns, smiling. In his hands is a small cake, a deep, rich brown with little red spots. “I didn’t forget, Amarie. Chocolate with cherries, just...”

“The way I like it,” I finish with him, smiling. I get out of my chair and give him a hug. “Thank you.”

He kisses my forehead gently, then hands the cake to me. He makes an effort to smile as he says, “You are eighteen today. I hope...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I know why. It was my mother’s eighteenth birthday when she had me, and died. I know how he wanted to finish his sentence: “I hope your birthday is better than your mother’s.”

I set the cake down and hug him tightly. He hugs me back, and we stand there a moment, each grieving in our own way.

He finally lets me go, and hands me the cake again. “Go ahead and eat it. I need to get to the village.”

I nod. “Hurry back. The sun will set by noon.”

He smiles. “Nothing will happen to me, Amarie.” With this final word, he is gone.


The Town Burns
Today is a hard one for me. As I celebrate my daughter’s birthday, I try to show only the happiness I feel for her, not the sorrow within my soul. I loved my wife almost more than life itself. Amarie is the only thing that gets me out of bed each morning. She looks so much like her mother, her namesake. Her hair is just the same, a flaming gold that cascades down her back and refuses to be tamed. Her eyes, though, are mine, a blue of glaciers and ice.

I set out for the market at a brisk pace. Despite my words to my daughter, I know that if I do not make it back to the cottage by noon, when the darkness becomes complete, I will not live to see my daughter again.

As I near the village, I hear screams. The closer I come, the warmer it becomes, although it is never warm enough for sun-loving plants to grow. I begin to sweat, not entirely from the heat. Another scream prompts me to break into a run. Once I come within sight of the village, though, I stop and begin to go more cautiously.

The village proper is in flames. Most of the buildings have already been burnt to the ground, but haystacks, wagons and a few of the buildings still throw sparks into the air. I have not heard any screams for a while now. I begin to go toward the village, leaving the cover of the trees, when a hand grabs the back of my tunic and pulls me back.

I spin around, my hunting knife in my hand in an instant. A villager, one I know well, holds up his hands. “Kristof. It’s me. Ildar.”

I lower my knife. “Ildar. It’s good to see you.” As I walk towards him, he crumples to the ground. I rush over to him, and only then do I notice the terrible wound across his scalp bleeding freely.

I start to rip a piece of my tunic to make a bandage, but Ildar places his hand on mine. “Kristof, no. It’s too late. You need to know though...” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then continues quietly. “The Dark Elf is looking for your daughter.”

Amarie? “Why is he looking for her?”

“You know the legend about the sacrifice?”

I nod, and he continues, stopping every other word or so to catch his breath. “He thinks Amarie is the one that is meant to be the sacrifice.”

I catch my breath. The legend he speaks of is a sacrifice to the dark god Pyragmon. It is said that if a girl with hair of flame and eyes of ice is sacrificed on a night with no moon, the forest will be covered in darkness forever. And the sorcerer thinks that my daughter, my lovely daughter with her flaming golden locks, is to be the sacrifice.

“NO!” I turn to run, but his hand is on my tunic hem, pulling me close. He speaks so softly that I can barely hear him.

“Beware the Dark Elf. His power is dependent upon darkness. The darker it is, the stronger he is. He knows where you live...”

His hand loosens as his eyes glaze over in death. I stay, caught with horror, then turn and run up the south path to the cottage, where my unknowing daughter waits for my return...and where the Dark Elf is going, even now.