Chapter 1
The Breaking
It is said that there is a place in Midgarthe where time bows before
desire, and was is but a word, a place where happiness can be measured
by the number of stars in the sky on a clear Summer night. But that
is not this place. In this place, Evil lurks within every shadow, and
even children must beware the notice of the Dark…
The young boy ran through the thick tangle of undergrowth, heedless
of the thorns and brambles that tore at his skin and clothing. His lungs
were on the verge of bursting as he gasped for air, but he pushed his
small frame on. Clutching a single-edged shortsword in a death grip,
Danken tried in vain to hack away at the blurring branches that snagged
his ripped, dirty grey woolen clothes. He made a sharp turn in an effort
to throw off his pursuers and twisted his ankle. Stifling a cry as he
pitched forward onto the hard forest floor, he felt panic threatening
to overtake him.
Danken furiously tried to hold his ragged breath and strained his
ears for any sound of pursuit. He could hear rough, guttural shouts
and cracking branches behind him and off to his left, closing in around
him. The unearthly growls and snarling of the fear hounds that had been
chasing him for more than a day filled him with an indescribable dread.
Using the stout trunk of a tree for support, he painfully pulled himself
back up, testing his sore ankle. Sweat burned his eyes and left rivulets
in his dirty face. The forest was becoming dark. As the sun descended
below the horizon, Danken knew that his advantage over the creatures
of the Dark was no more. Whimpering softly, he pushed away from the
tree and began running again. Overhead, he could see the silhouette
of a terykt, its huge leathery wings outstretched and its toothy, dog-like
muzzle simultaneously growling and screeching. A Goblin Rider on the
terykt’s back yelled harsh commands at it. He studied Danken with
glowing yellow eyes the same as those of the terykt. Danken felt a cold
shiver run down his spine.
A decaying log protruding from the foliage tripped him and sent him
tumbling. He landed with a dull, breathless thud. Danken sprawled motionless
with his eyes closed, sure he had died, until the blissful numbness
gave way to burning pain once more. Danken’s eyes snapped open.
He was confused by the fact that his surroundings were suddenly tinted
blue. It was as if he was looking through a blue glass in the midday
sun. Danken held his dagger up. In its reflection he saw two burning
blue candles where his eyes had been. His first thought was that it
must be dawn already until he heard the ever-closer sounds of his pursuers.
He glanced up to the starry sky to confirm his suspicions. Danken’s
vision blurred as if each star was a massive bonfire. Somehow his eyes
were using the stars to create light to see by.
The changes within him both frightened and exhausted him, but Danken
had no time to ponder how they had come about. He doggedly stood up
from the bushes once again. Danken had not even gained his feet when
a huge, snarling form slammed him back to the ground. All he could see
were jaws lined with uneven teeth that could rip a man to shreds.
As Danken fell, he thrust his shortsword into the coarse, sickly green
and gray fur of the beast. He struggled against its crushing weight,
trying frantically to avoid its acidic saliva that could burn through
stone. Abruptly he ceased thrashing as he realized that the sticky,
foul smelling liquid pouring over him was not his own, but the black
blood of the fear hound. He scrambled out from beneath it with a cry
of disgust, eyeing it as if any moment it would come back to life and
attack him. Its wicked, glowing yellow eyes hazed over in death.
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