spots dotted the facade of the house.
As they neared the manor a peculiar feeling of anxiety stole
over Elias. His heart quickened and his stomach dropped, goose-bumps rose on
his arms, and despite the sun he turned cold to his marrow.
They approached within a hundred yards of the house, but
Elias saw no sign of Slade or his caravan. He looked to his father. Padraic
Duana’s face had turned ashen and he reached for his cane with one hand and reined
in the horses with the other. Elias’s panic doubled at the sight of his father.
“I’m sorry, son,” Padraic said. His eyes caught the light of the sun and
glistened.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Danica said from behind them,
sensing their distress. “Daddy?”
The manor door crashed open.
When Elias looked back on this day, this moment, which he
would do countless times in the years remaining to him, he would first remember
how unremarkable the face of evil was. In boyhood fantasies, fostered by many a
fanciful novel, he imagined practitioners of the black arts to be gnarled and
malformed creatures, pale-skinned from lack of sunlight, wearing heavy black
robes that hid their faces in deep, shadowy cowls. This man was anything but. He
dressed in normal clothes, if a little ostentatious, like the night before. His
linen shirt, breeches, vest, and cape were of fine make, but were of neutral
tones, and no more flashy than the dress of a prominent rancher.
The sense of it, however, was another matter entirely.
Elias recognized the figure that stepped onto the porch, but
it was not the same man he had met last night. Slade’s manner had been carefree
and his countenance given to good humor and jest. This man moved like a
panther, and an unnatural air bled from him like an invisible, reeking vapor. The
irises of his eyes reflected the sun like a wolf’s in firelight.
Padraic ordered Danica and Asa to get down while Elias and
Slade sized each other up. Padraic gave Elias one final look. Though the whites
of his father’s eyes showed a little more than usual, to Elias, they looked as
gentle and calm as ever. He waved a hand over the horses, his eyes still fixed
on his son, and in a rich, sibilant tongue, spoke a single word. “ Dormena.”
Before Elias had time to register what happened, Padraic
Duana exploded into action, bounding off the carriage in a fluid leap that
defied gravity, cane in hand.
Elias scrambled into the driver’s box, reaching for the reins,
and then a whirlwind of activity happened all at once: A second man, garbed like
Slade, stepped onto the porch with a nocked longbow in hand and fired an arrow;
the horses began to turn; and Padraic and Slade joined in combat, the latter
wielding a wicked, curved sword.
Elias looked down, stupefied, to see a black fletched arrow
protruding from his chest.
The horses, frothing with effort, had completed their turn
and strained to gain the protection offered by the copse of trees. Danica and
Asa screamed in abject terror. The archer continued to fire with alarming
celerity. Elias tried to tell them to get down, but he could not find his voice
and managed only an inarticulate grunt as his vision darkened. Both women
reached for the swaying Elias, to keep him from being unseated from his
precarious perch in the driver’ box, but the carriage lurched wildly as it
entered the cover of the tree-line.
Danica lost her footing, and Elias’s left arm numbed,
lacking the strength to hold onto her, even as she tried to pull him into the
passenger cabin. They both went down. Elias sprawled into the driver’s box and Danica
tumbled from the carriage.
Elias reached for the reigns only to find them gone, dragging
in the dirt. He managed to find the breath to call the horses to halt, but the
ensorcelled steeds did not heed him. He turned to Asa. A blood-stained arrow
sprouted from her bosom.
Asa’s blue eyes went wide and her pupils dilated. A sensation
of pins-and-needles washed over Elias’s entire body. His mind
As they neared the manor a peculiar feeling of anxiety stole
over Elias. His heart quickened and his stomach dropped, goose-bumps rose on
his arms, and despite the sun he turned cold to his marrow.
They approached within a hundred yards of the house, but
Elias saw no sign of Slade or his caravan. He looked to his father. Padraic
Duana’s face had turned ashen and he reached for his cane with one hand and reined
in the horses with the other. Elias’s panic doubled at the sight of his father.
“I’m sorry, son,” Padraic said. His eyes caught the light of the sun and
glistened.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Danica said from behind them,
sensing their distress. “Daddy?”
The manor door crashed open.
When Elias looked back on this day, this moment, which he
would do countless times in the years remaining to him, he would first remember
how unremarkable the face of evil was. In boyhood fantasies, fostered by many a
fanciful novel, he imagined practitioners of the black arts to be gnarled and
malformed creatures, pale-skinned from lack of sunlight, wearing heavy black
robes that hid their faces in deep, shadowy cowls. This man was anything but. He
dressed in normal clothes, if a little ostentatious, like the night before. His
linen shirt, breeches, vest, and cape were of fine make, but were of neutral
tones, and no more flashy than the dress of a prominent rancher.
The sense of it, however, was another matter entirely.
Elias recognized the figure that stepped onto the porch, but
it was not the same man he had met last night. Slade’s manner had been carefree
and his countenance given to good humor and jest. This man moved like a
panther, and an unnatural air bled from him like an invisible, reeking vapor. The
irises of his eyes reflected the sun like a wolf’s in firelight.
Padraic ordered Danica and Asa to get down while Elias and
Slade sized each other up. Padraic gave Elias one final look. Though the whites
of his father’s eyes showed a little more than usual, to Elias, they looked as
gentle and calm as ever. He waved a hand over the horses, his eyes still fixed
on his son, and in a rich, sibilant tongue, spoke a single word. “ Dormena.”
Before Elias had time to register what happened, Padraic
Duana exploded into action, bounding off the carriage in a fluid leap that
defied gravity, cane in hand.
Elias scrambled into the driver’s box, reaching for the reins,
and then a whirlwind of activity happened all at once: A second man, garbed like
Slade, stepped onto the porch with a nocked longbow in hand and fired an arrow;
the horses began to turn; and Padraic and Slade joined in combat, the latter
wielding a wicked, curved sword.
Elias looked down, stupefied, to see a black fletched arrow
protruding from his chest.
The horses, frothing with effort, had completed their turn
and strained to gain the protection offered by the copse of trees. Danica and
Asa screamed in abject terror. The archer continued to fire with alarming
celerity. Elias tried to tell them to get down, but he could not find his voice
and managed only an inarticulate grunt as his vision darkened. Both women
reached for the swaying Elias, to keep him from being unseated from his
precarious perch in the driver’ box, but the carriage lurched wildly as it
entered the cover of the tree-line.
Danica lost her footing, and Elias’s left arm numbed,
lacking the strength to hold onto her, even as she tried to pull him into the
passenger cabin. They both went down. Elias sprawled into the driver’s box and Danica
tumbled from the carriage.
Elias reached for the reigns only to find them gone, dragging
in the dirt. He managed to find the breath to call the horses to halt, but the
ensorcelled steeds did not heed him. He turned to Asa. A blood-stained arrow
sprouted from her bosom.
Asa’s blue eyes went wide and her pupils dilated. A sensation
of pins-and-needles washed over Elias’s entire body. His mind
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