Table of Contents
DARK MAGIC
It happened as quickly as that. One moment there was nothing. Then, in the blink of an eye, the figure was there, fully formed. Huge and menacing, black against the mist, a shadow of a giant warrior in ancient, spiked armor, with a massive winged helmet on its head. It must have been twelve meters high, Will thought as he stood, rooted to the spot in horror. The helmet was a full-face design, but where the eyeholes pierced it, there was empty space.
Wills heart hammered inside his ribs, and his mouth was dry with fear. This was no mortal figure, he knew. This was something from the other side, from the dark world of sorcery and spells. Instinctively, he knew that none of his weapons could harm it.
The figure towered, unmoving apart from the slight quivering of the mist. The empty eyeholes seemed to seek him out. Then he heard the voice.
It was deep and seemed to echo around the black lake, as if he were hearing it in some vast cavern rather than the open woods.
Beware, mortal! it boomed. Do not awaken the shade of the Night Warrior. Leave this place now while you are still able!
Dont miss any of the adventures of
RANGERS APPRENTICE
THE RUINS OF GORLAN
THE BURNING BRIDGE
THE ICEBOUND LAND
THE BATTLE FOR SKANDIA
THE SORCERER OF THE NORTH
THE SIEGE OF MACINDAW
To Lyn Smith,
for your years of support
and encouragement.
IN THE NORTH, HE KNEW, THE EARLY WINTER GALES, DRIVING THE rain before them, would send the sea crashing against the shore, causing white clouds of spray to burst high into the air.
Here, in the southeastern corner of the kingdom, the only signs of approaching winter were the gentle puffs of steam that marked the breath of his two horses. The sky was clear blue, almost painfully so, and the sun was warm on his shoulders. He could have dozed off in the saddle, leaving Tug to pick his way along the road, but the years he had spent training and conditioning in a hard and unforgiving discipline would never allow such an indulgence.
Wills eyes moved constantly, searching left to right, right to left, close in and far ahead. An observer might never notice this constant movementhis head remained still. Again, that was his training: to see without being seen; to notice without being noticed. He knew this part of the kingdom was relatively untroubled. That was why he had been assigned to the Fief of Seacliff. After all, a brand-new, just-commissioned Ranger was hardly going to be handed one of the kingdoms trouble spots. He smiled idly at the thought. The prospect of taking up his first solo posting was daunting enough without having to worry about invasion or insurrection. He would be content to find his feet here in this peaceful backwater.
The smile died on Wills lips as his keen eyes saw something in the middle distance, almost concealed by the long grass beside the road.
His outward bearing gave no sign that he had noticed anything out of the ordinary. He didnt stiffen in his seat or rise in the stirrups to look more closely, as the majority of people might have done. On the contrary, he appeared to slouch a little more in the saddle as he rodeseemingly disinterested in the world around him. But his eyes, hidden in the deep shadow under the hood of his cloak, probed urgently. Something had moved, he was sure. And now, in the long grass to one side of the road, he thought he could see a trace of black and whitecolors that were totally out of place in the fading greens and new russets of autumn.
Nor was he the only one to sense something out of place. Tugs ears twitched once and he tossed his head, shaking his mane and letting loose a rumbling neigh that Will felt in the barrel-like chest as much as heard.
I see it, he said quietly, letting the horse know that the warning was registered. Reassured by Wills low voice, Tug quieted, though his ears were still pricked and alert. The packhorse, ambling contentedly beside and behind them, showed no interest. But it was a transport animal pure and simple, not a Ranger-trained horse like Tug.
The long grass shivered once more. It was only a faint movement but there was no wind to cause itas the hanging clouds of steam from the horses breath clearly showed. Will shrugged his shoulders slightly, ensuring that his quiver was clear. His massive longbow lay across his knees, ready strung. Rangers didnt travel with their bows slung across their shoulders. They carried them ready for instant use. Always.
His heart was beating slightly faster than normal. The movement in the grass was barely thirty meters away by now. He recalled Halts teaching: Dont concentrate on the obvious. They may want you to miss something else.
He realized that his total attention had become focused on the long grass beside the road. Quickly, his eyes scanned left and right again, reaching out to the tree line some forty meters back from the road on either side. Perhaps there were men hiding in the shadows, ready to charge out while his attention was distracted by whatever it was that was lying in the grass at the roads edge. Robbers, outlaws, mercenaries, who knew?
But he could see no sign of men in the trees. He touched Tug with his knee and the horse stopped, the packhorse continuing a few paces before it followed suit. His right hand went unerringly to the quiver, selected an arrow and laid it on the bowstring in less than a second. He shrugged back the hood so that his head was bare. The longbow, the small shaggy horse and the distinctive gray and green mottled cloak would identify him as a Ranger to any observer, he knew.
Whos there? he called, raising the bow slightly, the arrow nocked and ready. He didnt draw back yet. If there was anyone skulking in the grass, theyd know that a Ranger could draw, fire and hit his mark before they had gone two paces.
No answer. Tug stood still, trained to be rock steady in case his master had to shoot.
Show yourself, Will called. You in the black and white. Show yourself.
The stray thought crossed his mind that only a few moments ago he had been daydreaming about this being a peaceful backwater. Now he was facing a possible ambush by an unknown enemy.
Last chance, he called. Show yourself or Ill send an arrow in your direction.
And then he heard it, possibly in response to his voice. A low whimpering sound: the sound of a dog in pain. Tug heard it too. His ears flicked back and forth and he snorted uncertainly.
A dog? Will thought. A wild dog, perhaps, lying in wait to attack? He discarded the idea almost as soon as it formed in his mind. A wild dog wouldnt have made any sound to warn him. Besides, the sound he had heard had been one of pain, not a snarl or a warning growl of anger. It had been a whimper. He came to a decision.
In one fluid movement, he removed his left foot from the stirrup, crossed his right leg over the saddle pommel and dropped lightly to the ground. Dismounting in that fashion, he remained at all times facing the direction of possible danger, with both hands free to shoot. Had the need arisen, he could have loosed his first shot as soon as his feet touched the ground.
Tug snorted again. In moments of uncertainty like this, Tug preferred to have Will safely in the saddle, where the little horses quick reflexes and nimble feet could take him quickly out of danger.
