no other way. But still he hesitated, standing stiffly beside the unicorn, unable to make the slightest move toward entering the long night that had tested his soul and found it wanting.
“I suppose I could fly you and Julia over,” said the dragon slowly, “But that would mean abandoning the unicorn.”
“No,” said Rupert immediately. “I won’t do that.”
“Thanks,” said the unicorn.
Rupert nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the never-ending darkness.
“Come on,” said the Princess finally. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be out the other side.” She looked at Rupert expectantly.
“I can’t,” he said helplessly.
“What’s the matter?” snapped the Princess. “Afraid of the dark?”
“Yes,” said Rupert softly. “Oh yes.”
Julia stared at him in amazement, taking in his pale face and trembling hands.
“You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious. Afraid of the
dark?
”
“Shut up,” said the unicorn. “You don’t understand.”
“I think perhaps I do,” said the dragon. His great golden eyes studied the darkness warily. “The Darkwood was old when I was young, Julia. Legend claims it has always been here, and always will; darkness made manifest upon the earth. For any who dare to enter, there are dangers for both body and soul.” The dragon stared into the darkness a while, and then looked away uneasily. “What happened to you in the Darkwood, Rupert?”
Rupert struggled for words that could express the true horror of the darkness, but there were no words. He simply knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that if he entered the Darkwood again he would die or go mad. With an effort that shook him, Rupert tore his gaze away from the darkness. He’d faced the Darkwood once; he could do it again. Rupert clung to the thought desperately. The long night had marked him, but it hadn’t broken him. Perhaps this time the journey would be easier to bear. He had food and water and companions. There was firewood for torches.
If I turn back now, I’ll always be afraid of the dark.
Rupert took a deep, shuddering breath and let it go.
“Rupert,” said the dragon, “What happened to you in the Darkwood?”
“Nothing,” said Rupert hoarsely. “Nothing at all. Let’s go.”
He urged the unicorn forward, but the animal hesitated, and looked back at him.
“Rupert; you don’t have to do this …”
“Move, damn you,” Rupert whispered, and the unicorn followed him silently into the Darkwood, Julia followed the unicorn, and the dragon brought up the rear, the needle-thorned briar rattling vainly against his armored hide.
Night slammed down as they crossed the Darkwood’s boundary, and Rupert bit his lip to keep from crying out as the darkness swept over him. The familiar country sounds of bird and beast and wind were gone, replaced by a still, sullen silence. Out in the dark, demons were watching. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. All his instincts shrieked for him to light a torch, but he dared not. Light would attract the demons, and the surrounding briar made his party a sitting target. He hurried forward, wincing as thorns stung his outstretched hands. The trail seemed narrower than he remembered, but the briar finally fell away, and Rupert whispered for the party to stop a moment. He fumbled the tinderbox from his backpack, and after several false starts, he lit a single torch. The dancing flame seemed strangely subdued, as though the Darkwood begrudged even that much light within its domain. Decaying trees lined the narrow path, gnarled and misshapen. Their branches held no leaves, and gaping cracks revealed rotten hearts, but Rupert knew with horrid certainty that somehow they were still alive.
“Rupert …” said Julia.
“Later,” he said roughly. “Let’s go.”
The company moved slowly along the twisting trail in their little pool of light, heading into the heart of the darkness.
They hadn’t been moving long before the first
“I suppose I could fly you and Julia over,” said the dragon slowly, “But that would mean abandoning the unicorn.”
“No,” said Rupert immediately. “I won’t do that.”
“Thanks,” said the unicorn.
Rupert nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the never-ending darkness.
“Come on,” said the Princess finally. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be out the other side.” She looked at Rupert expectantly.
“I can’t,” he said helplessly.
“What’s the matter?” snapped the Princess. “Afraid of the dark?”
“Yes,” said Rupert softly. “Oh yes.”
Julia stared at him in amazement, taking in his pale face and trembling hands.
“You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious. Afraid of the
dark?
”
“Shut up,” said the unicorn. “You don’t understand.”
“I think perhaps I do,” said the dragon. His great golden eyes studied the darkness warily. “The Darkwood was old when I was young, Julia. Legend claims it has always been here, and always will; darkness made manifest upon the earth. For any who dare to enter, there are dangers for both body and soul.” The dragon stared into the darkness a while, and then looked away uneasily. “What happened to you in the Darkwood, Rupert?”
Rupert struggled for words that could express the true horror of the darkness, but there were no words. He simply knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that if he entered the Darkwood again he would die or go mad. With an effort that shook him, Rupert tore his gaze away from the darkness. He’d faced the Darkwood once; he could do it again. Rupert clung to the thought desperately. The long night had marked him, but it hadn’t broken him. Perhaps this time the journey would be easier to bear. He had food and water and companions. There was firewood for torches.
If I turn back now, I’ll always be afraid of the dark.
Rupert took a deep, shuddering breath and let it go.
“Rupert,” said the dragon, “What happened to you in the Darkwood?”
“Nothing,” said Rupert hoarsely. “Nothing at all. Let’s go.”
He urged the unicorn forward, but the animal hesitated, and looked back at him.
“Rupert; you don’t have to do this …”
“Move, damn you,” Rupert whispered, and the unicorn followed him silently into the Darkwood, Julia followed the unicorn, and the dragon brought up the rear, the needle-thorned briar rattling vainly against his armored hide.
Night slammed down as they crossed the Darkwood’s boundary, and Rupert bit his lip to keep from crying out as the darkness swept over him. The familiar country sounds of bird and beast and wind were gone, replaced by a still, sullen silence. Out in the dark, demons were watching. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. All his instincts shrieked for him to light a torch, but he dared not. Light would attract the demons, and the surrounding briar made his party a sitting target. He hurried forward, wincing as thorns stung his outstretched hands. The trail seemed narrower than he remembered, but the briar finally fell away, and Rupert whispered for the party to stop a moment. He fumbled the tinderbox from his backpack, and after several false starts, he lit a single torch. The dancing flame seemed strangely subdued, as though the Darkwood begrudged even that much light within its domain. Decaying trees lined the narrow path, gnarled and misshapen. Their branches held no leaves, and gaping cracks revealed rotten hearts, but Rupert knew with horrid certainty that somehow they were still alive.
“Rupert …” said Julia.
“Later,” he said roughly. “Let’s go.”
The company moved slowly along the twisting trail in their little pool of light, heading into the heart of the darkness.
They hadn’t been moving long before the first
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