Dusk Over Arcath

Chapter 1

Hoof beats pounded the ground. Hushed voices of riders chided the steeds quietly. Water splashed like shattering glass as the horses trampled through a river. Tree bows swished through the still night air as the riders ducked beneath the forests' arms.

The staggered beats of the horses' against the uneven forest floor fell into pace as they broke out from under the black canopy of leaves. Dashing across a wavering grassland along the snaking silver river, the horses steered toward a collection of lights some mile from the edge of the wood. The water shimmered like polished steel tracing a razor edge through the blackness of the night. It lay as a flashing barrier between the plains and the shadow-draped forest.

Howling cries staggered across the plain, quickly catching up with the frantic hoof-beats of the riders' steeds. Soft gurgling from the seething river seemed to chuckle like a nefarious poltergeist at their plight, but the heaving horses were beyond earshot of its ridicule before long.

"Eyes open," a deep voice murmured across the wall.

Aster nervously glanced to the gigantic shape that had spoken the words. A body rippling with might on a pair of broad shoulders and an inky black half-beard were all he could make out. Wavering torchlight flutteringly held off the encompassing darkness but hid the man's features.

The man's heavily lidded eyes turned from the plain outside the wall to the boy that stood behind him. "What are looking at?" he snapped.

Aster's palms gripped the coarse shaft of his ax as he hurried to stare back at the night. "Nothing, Sir."

Despite himself, he glanced either side to the fellow watchmen who stood on the battered stone rampart. Most were young men no more than five or ten years older than himself wearing varying states of battle-worn countenances. The torches that periodically flickered along the wall threw an assortment of enchanting shadowy shapes across their stoic faces that gazed expectingly into the unwavering night. Occasionally the lights would sparkle across a fragment of their half-armor not clad in the grime that layered the steel, but most of the light just fell dully against the dirt that smeared across their unruly assortment of breastplates, grieves, heavy hooded tunics, and scythe-like ax-heads.

Returning his gaze to the blackness outside the range of the torches, Aster could tell the horsemen were getting closer. Their horses were moving faster now. Somewhere far off an owl cooed lazily. A chorus of barking howls jeered at the calm woodsmen that stood beside him. He shook his head to pry the wolves' cry from his mind, his long black hair scratching his ears.

"Do you have some water in your hair, you dog? Or are the fleas getting to you again?" a reserved female voice whispered from beside him.

Aster glared at the girl. Her dirty blonde hair was coiled in a soil-stained braid down her neck over a thick tunic, but neither hid her mocking grin.

"Shut it, Castleia."

"My eyes? Trust me, Sackcloth, I would just to avoid looking at you. If only I didn't have to keep them open to look out there," she retorted, nodding toward the black plains.

He felt his fingers tightening around his ax's thick handle. "I mean it -"

"That's enough," the bulky man beside him uttered through grinding teeth. His meaty fist lifted a three-foot-long ax to his shoulder, letting its shield-sized blade shine against the torches. "You two," he gestured to Aster and Castleia, "Egorest, and Griffic, open the gate. But," the captain murmured in a voice like a sharpening stone, "if any of those men take so much as a scratch because of your foolishness, you'll receive ten times it by the lash."