The Dark Rider

CHAPTER Twenty-Five



Vicky stirred as something pulled her back from a deep, dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes, rubbing sleep dust from them. As she became more awake the noise came again. Someone was moving around downstairs.

Yawning she reached for her watch, the hands still faintly illuminated. With a little difficulty she was able to make out the time. It was just past 5:15 am. Suddenly she remembered the book and felt a spark of annoyance. She had fallen asleep rather than going back to read it. Then a thought occurred to her. It must be her dad downstairs. What if he had gone down to look at it himself?

She flung back the duvet and jumped out of bed, pulling her dressing gown down from the hook behind the door. As she did so there was a soft thump from downstairs as if her dad had dropped something. Opening the bedroom door Vicky crossed the small landing and skipped quietly down the stairs, but halfway down she stopped, her hand on her mouth.

A scene of mini-devastation lay before her. The lounge had been ransacked, the sofas tipped up, their cushions thrown across the room. The boxes that had been stacked neatly were ripped open, and their contents spilled across the floor. Books and papers from the shelves lining the wall had been pulled off and lay everywhere in scattered piles.

Vicky stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed with shock. Then a series of crashes came from the kitchen, the sound of drawers being emptied and thrown onto the floor. Recovering, Vicky opened her mouth and screamed. A dead silence followed. Suddenly terrified Vicky spun round and bolted back up the stairs and straight into her mum and dad’s room.

“Dad,” she cried frantically, shaking his sleeping form.

“Dad, there’s someone downstairs.”

She shook him harder but he would not wake up.

“Dad,” she shouted out fighting tears. Shaking with fright she ran round to the other side of the bed.

“Mum, Dad won’t wake up, you’ve got to wake up.”

Frantically Vicky shook her mum but all she did was murmur and turn over. Then Vicky heard the thump of a heavy boot on the bottom stair and for a moment she froze. Looking around in wild-eyed panic, she saw the wardrobe. As more footsteps echoed up the stairway she scrambled across the room and dived in, pulling the door shut, but it would not close properly. She looked on in panic as it began to swing open again. Desperately she gripped the edge of a panel on the inside of the door and pulled as hard as she could. Slowly the door began to move back towards her and then finally it closed, leaving a small crack through which she could still see the room.

Vicky sat there in the darkness with her heart pounding and her breath coming quick and shallow. For a moment there was silence. Then the bedroom door creaked slightly and began to open. For a brief second a figure moved across her view and in that moment the recognition hit her. It was the uncle.

The man who had written the notebook.

The man who had tried to break her arm.

The man who wanted the key.

Vicky waited, terrified for what would happen next. Then the man spoke, his voice cutting across the room.

“I’m afraid they won’t wake up right now to help you.”

The volume of his voice rose and fell slightly as if he was turning his head to look around the room.

“A little trick I learned from my Master.”

Vicky heard his footsteps crossing the room, moving back towards the wardrobe.

“So you might as well come out now and we can avoid any unpleasantness.”

The footsteps and his shadow passed and then halted.

“I see you read my diary.”

A floorboard creaked slowly as he shifted his weight.

“You will know then how long I have been searching for the key. How much it means to me to find it.”

Something scraped across the outside of the wardrobe.

“I will only ask once.”

Vicky began to tremble. Her grip on the door was slipping, sweat making it difficult to hold on any tighter.

“Come out and give me the key.”

Vicky watched in silent terror as the crack of light she had been looking through began to grow wider.

“And no harm will come to you or your family.”

As if in slow motion Vicky’s fingers lost their grip on the door and it began to fall open. Dirty and calloused fingers appeared, piercing the edge of light and gripping the other side of the door. Desperately Vicky pulled the key out from under her nightshirt and stuffed it behind a shoe. Then she opened her mouth and began to scream.


*****


Falk felt himself tiring. The adrenaline had long left his system, and his muscles were burning with the constant effort of running with Alex in his arms. Wondering if it would make any difference he slowed and stopped, laying Alex gently in a shallow depression in the ground. He looked all around him, the silent forest that had once been his home mocking him in return. He began to remember things from his childhood, growing up with the land as his playground, the seasons coming, each with their own milestones.

With a shiver he remembered first learning of the Dark and of Myrkur, and then his pledge to become a warrior. He recalled his first visit to what they called “the world above.” He remembered his shock at the state of it, how he had been unsettled for days wondering how people could live in the crowded concrete completely cut off from nature.

Then he had been assigned as Gwen’s protector, and had seen a different side of the land where nature still existed, where it was still possible to connect. That is why he had believed in her. That is why he had supported her in her certainty that Paul was the chosen one against the will of many of the Light. But Gwen had been wrong and now it was all gone, shattered like broken ice, and he was left alone to watch their last hope dying in his arms.

A faint tremor stirred on the edge of his awareness. Falk crouched down over Alex, his arms stretched over her like a falcon over its prey. Something had used energy to enter the forest world. Suddenly all the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. He turned his head around slowly scanning the trees but there was no sign of movement. He reached out with his awareness, straining for another sign but could sense nothing, and this sent a chill up his spine for it could only mean one thing. Breathing calmly to control his fear he unsheathed his sword.

A snorting of heavy breath snapped out across the air behind him. Snarling, Falk turned his head. Standing twenty meters away stood the Rider, his huge warhorse stamping the ground as its breath made great eruptions of condensation in the air. Falk felt a moment of terror consume him. He had seen his warriors easily swept aside and killed under the Rider’s onslaught. Then the Rider had faced Gwen, a powerful Warder skilled in combat, and she had died too. Now the Rider was here to finish what it had started and Falk was the only thing that stood in its way.

Paralysis gripped him. The challenge was too great, the chance of success minimal. The Rider would destroy him as if he was nothing and then Alex would die, Nicola would die, the Light would end and the wild world would fade away to nothing. For a moment Falk remained as frozen as the forest that surrounded him. Then a cold anger began to rise within him fuelled by the injustice he faced, the sense of frustration and loss, the taking away of his life. It surged along his veins filling him with a need to fight, to vent his fury against the Rider in a last glorious end. As if waking from a trance he slowly turned his still crouched body so that he was facing the Rider, his sword point raised.

“I only want her,” the Rider called. His face was hidden within the cowl of his cloak and his voice carried eerily across the frozen air. “I have no argument with you.”

“I will die before I give her to you,” Falk called back.

The Rider was silent for a moment.

“Then that is your choice,” said Paul. He undid the clasp around his cloak which fell away to reveal dark armor. Reaching to his right he drew a large broadsword from its scabbard, the dragons that coiled around the blade gleaming in the moonlight as if alive. Falk stared at them transfixed and then, before he could react, the warhorse was thundering towards him, the ground shuddering under the beating of its iron hooves.

Drawing on the power, Falk poised himself. The horse was just meters away. The Rider’s eyes were fixed on him, the dragon sword already scything a path through the air in front of him. Falk stood his ground until the last moment and then he rolled sideways, the Rider’s blade sweeping the now empty space above. Falk slashed at the horse’s legs as it passed but armor deflected his strike. The horse was rearing, the Rider turning, his sword arcing back down through the sky.

The momentum of Falk’s roll carried him upright and he turned, raising his sword just in time to meet the Rider’s attack. Their blades clashed, sparks flying as the razor-sharp cutting surfaces collided. Falk fell to one knee, beaten down by the bone jarring impact. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the horse’s hooves strike the ground all around Alex and his stomach twisted, but by some miracle she remained unharmed.

The Rider pulled viciously on the warhorse’s reins. The great beast reared up again, twisting towards Falk, the sky in front of him suddenly filled with deadly flailing hooves. Falk ducked and fell away to his left, feeling the rush of air across the back of his head where a hoof had nearly decapitated him. The ground shook as the beast’s front legs fell back onto the earth. Regaining his balance but still crouched low on the ground Falk stabbed desperately upwards trying to force the horse away from Alex. Then the Rider was attacking again, swinging viciously down with his sword. Falk barely deflected the blow and was knocked backwards, his sword flying from his hand. In a blur of movement the Rider had already jumped from his saddle and was bearing down on Falk before he could even react. Instinct made Falk roll to one side, the Rider’s sword impacting into the frozen ground where his head had been a split second before. Kicking out, Falk’s boot connected with the Rider’s knee but the man only grunted before his other leg was swinging round and kicking Falk in the stomach. Winded and doubled over in pain Falk looked up as the Rider raised his sword for the fatal strike.


*****


Vicky struggled, kicking and biting, as powerful hands wrapped around her and pulled her from the wardrobe. A moment later she felt the floor under her feet and she kicked out again, her foot connecting with something hard. Above her the uncle winced in pain and then his hand shot out, slapping her across the cheek. The sound ricocheted around the room like a pistol shot. Motionless now, Vicky stared up at him in stunned silence. With his other hand still gripping her upper arm the uncle leaned forward, his eyes grim.

“Where is the key?” he asked.

“Leave me alone,” Vicky cried as her cheek began to sting. She shrank back as his face came closer.

“This is your last chance,” he growled menacingly.

Trembling Vicky shook her head.

“I threw it away.”

He raised his hand and slapped her again. Slowly she turned her head back to look at him. Her tears began to sting as they flowed down the inflamed skin, but she did not make a sound.

“You do not know what you are meddling with you stupid girl,” he roared, his face inches from hers. He raised his hand again. “Now where is the key?”

“Uncle Tom!” shouted a voice. Terrified Vicky turned to see the boy Robert standing in the doorway, his eyes wide open in shock. “What are you doing?”

“Get out of here,” the man shouted. Just then a sudden volley of barks, yelps, and vicious snarls erupted from outside. Cursing, he dragged Vicky to the window as he strained to see what was happening. Robert ran forward, grabbing his uncle’s arm and shaking it.

“She’s just a girl Uncle Tom,” he cried out.

The uncle pushed him away savagely with his free hand and the boy stumbled and fell against the wall.

Vicky’s eyes went from the boy, who was now staring at his uncle with hatred in his eyes, to her parents sleeping soundly not half a meter away from her, and then to her mother’s bedside table. Sitting just out of reach was a silver broach. The pin had come undone and now lay open, the inch-long needle pointing towards her. Just then, more snarling erupted outside, above which came the heavy bark of the uncle’s dog.

“Damn foxes,” the man cried out. “They’ll tear him apart.”

Before she could think better of it, Vicky pulled herself forward, reaching out with her right hand to grab the broach.

“Be still,” the man began to shout down, his head turning towards her just in time to see the blur of silver as Vicky stabbed the pin as hard as she could into the side of his thigh.

He cried out in pain, his grip on Vicky’s arm lessoning for an instant.

“Run,” shouted Robert.

“The key,” she cried back at him as she pulled free. “It’s in the wardrobe.” Robert looked to the wardrobe, the door half open. The girl was nearly there but if she stopped rather than run out the room she would not make it, and that was exactly what was going to happen for, as his uncle recovered from the shock, he had already started to lunge forward.

Without thinking Robert put out his foot, catching his uncle’s back leg. The man tripped and fell forward, crashing against the side of the bed. Vicky jumped in fright at the noise as she dived into the wardrobe. Frantically she grabbed the key from behind the shoe where she had hidden it and then backed out again. The uncle was already pushing himself up, the full force of his fury evident in his eyes.

“You’ll pay for this,” his spat, his hand shooting out towards Vicky’s ankle as she tried to run away. She thought she had made it but then she felt something pull against her heel.

Vicky stumbled and fell forward. Instinctively she put her hands out to try and break the fall and as she tumbled to the ground the key slipped out of her hand and slid away from her across the floor. Robert had already jumped past her and now grabbed her hand, pulling her away from his uncle.

“Come on,” he shouted.

“No,” she cried. “I can’t leave it.” She pulled against him but it was already too late. Robert’s uncle was reaching forward, his outstretched hand closing around the chain. Within a second he had pulled the key back and was now staring at it in triumph.

“Let’s go,” shouted Robert desperately as he tugged at her arm.

Reluctantly Vicky pushed herself up but the uncle was already on his feet. He pushed past them without even looking, his footsteps thudding heavily on the stairs.


*****


Jason crossed the street quickly and slipped into the hotel entrance. The doorman looked up uneasily as Jason walked up to him and leaned ominously across the front desk. He tried not to stare at the dark bruises around Jason’s eyes.

“Good morning Michael.”

Michael coughed, clearing the sudden catch in his throat.

“Hi Jason,” he said nervously.

“Which room?”

Michael tried to backtrack, having spent most of the remaining time agonizing about his actions.

“Look, er, I think I made a mistake. It was dark. I saw her again this morning and she really doesn’t fit your description.”

Silence followed his statement. Jason simply stared at him, which unnerved him to such an extent he had to look away, his hands unnecessarily moving some tourism brochures on top of the desk.

“I don’t believe you,” responded Jason after a few seconds.

Michael began to squirm under Jason’s stare.

“Look, I can’t just give you a guest’s room number. If the manager finds out I’ll get fired.”

Jason pushed himself up and within a second had stepped around the desk. The doorman’s whimper was cut short as he was grabbed by the upper arms and hauled roughly to within an inch of Jason’s face.

“You will have a lot more to worry about than your manager if you screw this up for me.”

The doorman tried to pull away, but Jason’s grip was like a vice.

“Now I won’t ask again,” said Jason menacingly. “Which room?”

“I’m not telling you,” repeated the doorman.

Releasing one hand Jason slapped the boy so hard on the cheek that his head recoiled backwards.

The boy turned his head back, a big red mark appearing on the side of his face. Tears were welling up in his eyes. Jason let go of him and let him fall back down onto his chair. He stared back sullenly, his hands trembling as they reached up and gingerly touched his face.

“Do I have to ask again?”

The boy’s shoulders visibly sagged as he replied in a small voice.

“She’s in room twenty-two.”

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The doorman shook his head, ashamed of himself for giving in so easily.

“Is she there now?”

“Yes,” Michael replied in a defeated voice. “But she had a friend. A young man. He won’t be happy if you go up there.”

Jason paused. This was something different now. Who was the man? He decided it didn’t matter.

“You are a mine of information, aren’t you?” he said as he pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen as his stomach twisted itself into a knot of dread. He dialled the number. After one ring it was answered.

“Do you have news for us Jason?”

Jason swallowed hard trying to wet this throat.

“Err, yes. I think I’ve found her.”

“You think? We don’t want you to think Jason, we want you to know.”

Jason felt his bowels constricting.

“It has to be her. No one else has seen anyone fitting the description.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

The line went quiet for a moment. Jason didn’t dare say anything.

“Are you with her now?”

“No,” Jason replied. “She’s in a hotel, I’m in the lobby. The doorman says she had someone with her.”

“You better not be wasting our time Jason.”

Jason felt a sticky, prickling sensation crawl up his spine.

“I can go and check but I thought…”

The voice interrupted him.

“No, stay there and wait for us.”

The line went dead. Jason stared down at his phone. They hadn’t even asked him where he was. He turned to see the doorman staring at him wide-eyed.

“I think you should go home,” Jason said.