For several hours, they advanced at nearly a trot, without exchanging a word, until they stopped by the banks of a stream to drink water and eat some salted meat.

  “I want to make something perfectly clear,” said Kalen ‘Fal through clenched teeth, glaring at Anthos with fury from beneath his thick brows and the strands of hair that fell across his face. “What you did back there was the act of a petty thug, devoid of any kind of virtue. Had the circumstances been only slightly different, it would have been the last time we stood as colleagues. I want to believe that what I saw was nothing but a shadow of your past, not something you’re still suppressing.”

  “We got the information, Kalen. We didn’t have time to waste talking.”

  “Did you see that man? He wasn’t some filthy bandit who deserves to be hacked to pieces, nor a mindless monster.” He pointed furiously back in the direction they had come from. “Did you see his face, the fear in his eyes? Did you see how he looked at you? He said he wouldn’t tell us anything because of his fear of Ertai… fear of what he might do to him. And that fear was overcome by the fear he felt for you. Congratulations! You’re now more terrifying than the dark druid.”

  Anthos lowered his head, for he knew the knight spoke the truth.

  “That man only wanted to protect himself, so he could protect his family. He’s a poor widower earning his living, and he did not deserve the treatment he received.” He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I will not see you act like that again… ever. This time urgency was snapping at our heels, but there won’t be a next time. You will leave me no choice but to act as my Code demands. ‘You shall protect the weak from all harm.’”

  Anthos said nothing, but he nodded. The knight’s words were harsh, and his final warning was not empty—it was deeply rooted in the conduct of the knights of Dorlan.

  They pressed forward for several more kilometers at a brisk trot, until a question finally slipped from the guide’s lips.

  “Why did you mention the term ‘dark druid’ at the stream? Did you use it as a description, or does it mean something more?”

  “In my order, we study all beings capable of evil. Druids who—whether they completed their training or not—use their gifts to summon or consort with creatures from aberrant planes, such as the malformed plane of Hol ‘Dor, are called dark druids. While the ‘good’ druids draw upon the spirits of creatures from the Elemental World, these deal with demons, malevolent entities, and other abominations.” He paused briefly. “When poor Ronan described the worm Ertai summoned from the earth, it confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Shit… so he’s more dangerous than we thought, isn’t he?”

  “Correct.”

  “Even so, he’s mine.”

  Kalen shrugged, and they continued onward.

  By nightfall, they had reached the edge of the so-called Forest of Storms. The size of its trees was colossal. Neither of them had ever been in a forest so vast. Roots burst chaotically from the ground, like tentacles. Strange-shaped vines coiled around the massive trunks, often hanging down from the sturdy branches until they nearly brushed the ground. The floor, covered in leaves and grass, gradually lost its snow as the forest grew denser, as though some inner microclimate kept it from falling. The air itself seemed heavy in that place. Both knew that at night it would be impossible to find Ertai’s trail in the forest, which he had certainly entered from the northern edge, where they now stood.

  Anthos began to prepare a small fire for cooking, while Kalen went off to hunt something to eat. After a while, he returned with what looked like a kind of wildcat, smaller and furrier.

  “I don’t know what it is, but it should be edible,” he said, tossing it at the guide’s feet. He still seemed upset.

  “It is,” Anthos replied, stoking the fire. “Everything is. What I don’t understand is why bring the baby this far east. Why not turn west when he had the chance, take him closer to Bloodmere by crossing Doknar? From what I gather from the prophecy, the Brotherhood of the Black Flame must sacrifice him in the Quarry of the Avernus to open the gate for the demons, correct?”

  “Correct,” Kalen said as he skinned the animal.

  “Then… why head the other way?”

  “Maybe he’s buying time. Maybe he’s hiding him until the rest of the Brotherhood arrives. Honestly, I don’t know.”

  They began to eat, trying to shield themselves from the freezing cold that was settling in. At the forest’s edge, it wasn’t too difficult, truth be told. Their thoughts wandered to Begryn and Galfrido, wishing the warrior had been able to recover.

  “Anthos, we’re not going to sleep. Let’s finish eating, rest our backs a little, and head into the forest. Do you agree?”

  “Completely,” he said with resolve.

  And so they did. Before night began giving way to day, they readied their weapons, lit torches, and entered the thick forest.

  “Well, it seems the tracks follow this way.”

  They pressed on, following a kind of path where bootprints could be seen, all leading in the same direction until they veered off to the right, delving even deeper into the woods. The way was difficult, but the greater number of fallen branches and leaves made the trail left by the dark druid all the more visible.

  “We’re close,” Anthos said suddenly, noticing the footprint left in a patch of mud. “They’re riding boots. The same as the ones Ertai wore.”

  Dawn was not far off. They pushed on a little further, through the branches of the cold, damp forest, by now stripped of snow thanks to the warmer microclimate within, when they came upon a kind of crumbling archway made of stone, with scattered remnants of columns around it. It looked ancient; the marks of time weighed heavily upon the rock. Moss covered the stone, and the few arabesques it bore were badly eroded. The other column fragments stood within a small, though even, clearing.

  Suddenly, from the darkness, Ertai appeared, clad in his black attire, a macabre smile on his face. He stopped some twenty meters from the adventurers.

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  “I knew you would follow me. You do seem persistent.”

  “Give me the child, Ertai, and—”

  “And what? You’ll spare my life?” he interrupted mockingly.

  “I’ll give you a swift death,” Anthos said, teeth clenched with rage.

  “No, boy, no. After all the effort I’ve endured… all the sleepless nights, the beatings I suffered as a prisoner of those beasts… Do you really think I went through all that only to let you snatch away my victory now, when it’s so close? Those cursed man-eaters nearly devoured me. Lord Faradax draws near, boy. I will not let the Brotherhood take him, and I will not let you hide him…”

  “You lie,” said Kalen Fal. “If the Black Knight were coming with his army, he would have already passed through Doknar and been detected.”

  “Come now, Sir Kalen… haven’t there been rumors of orc bands spreading for years? The army has always been here… only you were so confident, so blind, that you never knew. Bloodmere never left.” He paused. At that moment, Kalen recalled what Begryn had told him about the massacre of her Sharpshooters in Doknar. It had been the Black Knight, which made Ertai’s tale all the more believable. “Once Faradax arrives, he will raze the Frozen City. You cannot stop it. I am the only one who can protect Drako.”

  “That makes no sense,” Anthos said. “If you wanted to protect him, you should have come with us, not committed such a betrayal.”

  “You will lead the boy to ruin. What will become of the dragon’s fate if Trabarioth falls, with the child there? Drako possesses a power beyond your comprehension. I will not allow you to hide him, nor to tame him… You,”—he pointed at Kalen—“you are the ones who destroyed these beings. They were the favored creatures of the gods! You forced them to hide in this frail, human form!” He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “I will not let you steal Drako from me. I will take him, and I will unlock his full potential.”

  “You don’t want to unleash his potential, you wretch. You want to control him. You don’t give a damn about what happened to the dragons. You crave his power. Do you think with your dark druid tricks you’ll be able to dominate him the way you do with beasts or creatures from other planes? He is no ordinary being.”

  “And for a moment, I actually believed that idealistic nonsense you spouted, Ertai,” Anthos said with a half-smile on his face.

  “Shut your fucking mouth!” Ertai roared, enraged. “No one is taking Drako. Even if I have to drag the boy across the entire region of Dorlan myself. And you, fools… you’ve walked right into the trap. Why else would I choose the Forest of Storms?”

  Ertai spread his hands, his eyes flaring with a pale, whitish glow. Suddenly, they heard piercing cries, like those of eagles but sharper, more grating. The sound, faint at first, grew louder and closer. Looking up, they saw dozens of creatures with the faces of women and the bodies of vultures swooping down at great speed through the trees.

  They weren’t especially large, but the fury in their faces and the length of their talons made it clear this fight would be anything but easy.

  “Harpies!” Kalen Fal shouted, swinging Eldora to drive back the creatures diving toward them.

  Ertai grinned with satisfaction as the twisted monstrosities fell upon his two pursuers. The pale faces of those creatures were twisted in constant rictuses of rage, their red eyes glowing, their fury magnified by his druidic power. He was almost certain they would not survive the onslaught.

  “Kalen, handle the harpies—I’m going after Ertai!” Anthos shouted, breaking into a run and dodging the slash of one of the winged fiends.

  “Go!” Kalen dropped low just in time to evade the strike of two monsters that lunged at him simultaneously, crashing into each other and falling unconscious to the ground.

  Anthos saw the dark druid slip through the archway. He followed and came to a kind of clearing, where several stones were arranged in a semicircle, their color much lighter than the ones at the entrance.

  When he stepped into the circle of stones, he saw the baby lying upon one of them, with Ertai caressing him, his back turned. Behind him, the sound of Kalen’s battle against the harpies grew ever fiercer. And all around, true to the cursed forest’s name, strange thunder echoed through the place.

  “I want to ask you something, Anthos,” the dark druid said without turning. “Why not simply kill the child? If you kill him, there will be no way for the prophecy to be fulfilled… at least not until the birth of the next Dragon Knight, a hundred years from now.”

  “Are you out of your damned mind, or what?”

  “Think about it for a moment, boy. Suppose you kill me and take him to Trabarioth. Suppose the mages there try to care for him, to raise him so that he may become an ally of the forces of good—a powerful ally, no doubt.” He clicked his tongue and turned to face him. “Now suppose Faradax’s assault advances and the orcs begin to pour into the city. What do you think will become of Nurbanduur—or as you call him, Drako? Do you think the mages there would risk letting the child fall into the Brotherhood’s hands, bringing the prophecy to pass? No, of course not. The mages would sacrifice the boy and prepare for the next coming, the next birth. You can wager that much.”

  “You’re trying to confuse me,” Anthos said, disturbed.

  “Confuse you?” Ertai smiled. “No, Anthos. I’ve never spoken truer words. You and I are the same. I knew it the moment I first laid eyes on you. You can pretend to live another life, pretend to be someone honorable, or play at being part of an adventuring party, but deep down, you’re running from your own demons. From the things you’ve done—or the things you will do. From everyone you’ve lost and why not? From those you will lose. Am I wrong?”

  “Don’t talk as if you know me, bastard.”

  “Oh, but I do know you. You’re as predictable as a map sketched in charcoal. I can read you whenever I want. Your demons torment you at every moment—don’t you see? You’re fighting against something you don’t understand, and the redemption you think you seek will lead you nowhere but eternal oblivion. You’re no hero, Anthos. You don’t have to die for that.”

  “Last chance, Ertai.”

  “Fine… very well. You can risk taking him to Trabarioth, and risk Faradax delivering him to the Brotherhood. You can risk that if Faradax breaks into the city, the mages will sacrifice him… But no matter how this tale ends, no matter what choice you make, the outcome will always be the same: the child will be sacrificed. Unless I take him… and I will, whether you’re breathing—or not.”

  “I don’t like any of your choices.” Without another word, Anthos leapt forward, drawing his rapier as he moved. Ertai slipped aside just in time, unsheathing a large dagger with a silver hilt and a serrated blade, and began to move with startling agility.

  “You think you can defeat me so easily?” he said, dodging the guide’s second strike and countering low.

  “You’re underestimating me!” Anthos managed to lift his leg clear of Ertai’s dagger and, using the same momentum, kicked him square in the face, forcing his opponent back. The dark druid looked up in fury, spitting out blood—and a tooth. He lunged, and their weapons clashed. The guide’s agility was inferior to that of his enemy, who moved at an astonishing speed. Yet the rapier was swift and precise, and so the fight remained evenly matched.

  At one point, they broke apart and faced each other from a few meters away, taking the chance to catch their breath. The glow of dawn appeared, gradually pushing back the stars and giving way to a timid sun, which began to filter faintly through the clouds and the towering trees.

  “You have no idea who you’re up against, colleague,” said Anthos with a smile, beginning to circle around Ertai. “You may be controlling the harpies with your power now, and you might not have much left to face me, but listen…” He placed a hand against his ear, sensing that the battle between Kalen and the monsters was still raging. “I suppose you also underestimated the knight.”

  Ertai smiled and, without a word, hurled a fireball from his hands. Anthos couldn’t dodge it, and it struck his chest, slamming him against a tree and scorching part of his garments. The guide struggled to rise, grimacing from the blow he had taken. The dark druid drew near with a smile, raising his dagger to plunge it into his rival’s neck.

  “I’m glad you thought I underestimated you, Anthos… because I didn’t. Now, die.”

  The guide lifted his head to look at his executioner, just before receiving the final strike.