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“Please take me with you.”
Silas mounted Vala. “Take care, b
oy.”
“Please, don’t leave me here.”
Mara watched as Vala carried Silas into the distance. Don’t leave me here, please come back. Turn around, please.
It didn’t take long before they were out of sight. He was alone, cold, and scared. He wanted to shout out but didn’t want anything else in the forest to hear him, anything like Mother. I can catch him up. I’m not going in there, I won’t go in.
He wrapped his arms across his chest. He thought about Talon. Peter’s death. Being chased and beaten. Being hungry and cold. None of it made the idea of going into the forest any better. I have to catch Silas.
What’s that? A black shape stood deep inside the forest. Tall and wide, with big horns curling from its head.
He felt like he’d seen it before, in dreams he couldn’t remember. The longer he stared at it, the warmer he felt. The same warmth he’d felt when he killed Mother. Can I come with you?
The thing turned, disappearing into the black behind it.
Mara followed.
5
The ashy powder puffed up with each step Mara took. The rows of bent and twisted trees stretched into the darkness, some of them with thorns the length of his fingers.
He looked back to see that only the last ten of his footprints were still on the floor, and as he watched, the rest slowly disappeared as the powder settled. He gripped his blade tight. Night had fallen, and he’d walked far enough that he could only just about see the edge of the forest. The castle can’t be far.
The flashes in the clouds lit the forest every so often, and after each time, it looked even darker than before. When the sky turned the forest white again, he saw a large puff of powder not far ahead of him. He backed up to a tree, coughing as the dust covered him.
He took the blade out of its cover. Don’t be Mother. The black thing he’d followed into the forest was nowhere to be seen. He was scared again.
Another flash, and this time a man-sized dark figure stood in the distance. He wanted to shout for Silas. He saved me before. He’ll save me again. Maybe the black thing will come back.
He slid down the tree, more powder surrounding him, and he coughed as quietly as he could. The next time the forest lit up, Mara felt the Slow take over.
Two figures, dressed in black from head to toe, leaped in slow motion, one left, one right. Mara moved around the tree when the darkness came again. He held the blade at his chest and flicked his eyes from side to side, ready to strike at the first thing he saw.
A black-gloved hand appeared on his right, and he stuck his blade straight in it. The man’s scream snapped time back to normal. Mara felt dizzy, the sound of his heartbeat thudding fast in his ears. The blade was gone, ripped from his grasp, when the man pulled away. I gotta run. He launched himself forwards, straight into a kick from the other black figure.
Lying on his back, blind from the cloud of powder, Mara grasped at the floor, praying he’d find the blade. The black figure appeared through the gloom, hit Mara hard in the chin, then held something sour-smelling over his mouth and nose. He grabbed at the figure’s arm and tried to kick but felt as weak as a baby.
Vision blurring, his arms flopped to the floor.
Silas rode along the edge of the Shadow Forest. He expected a Shadow would appear sooner or later to ask about the boy. What’s taking them so long? Surely they saw our approach.
He wished Mara success and hoped their paths would cross again. Hopefully, he’ll pick a better name in the meantime. He’d made their separation as quick as possible. No sense in dragging it out. Best he get on with it, as I had to.
The scared and innocent look on Mara’s face when he’d left him hung around in his mind, and he’d considered turning back to get him on several occasions. He’s just a boy. He’s no demon. A demon wouldn’t be scared.
Silas passed around an outcrop of trees to see a Shadow on a jet-black horse. Dressed in the usual lightweight black leggings, shirt, and hood, along with black leather boots and gloves. The plain black mask, without holes for the eyes, nose, or mouth, made him feel on edge, as it had done since his time spent in the Shadow Castle. Bloody things.
“Where from?” the Shadow said.
Straight to business, as usual. Silas didn’t recognise this one’s voice, the only way he could tell them apart. “Talon.”
“Name?”
“He’s calling himself Mara.”
