Excerpt from "Pawn of the Demon Prince"

A mottled green frog leapt out of the way of a rapidly approaching grey horse galloping upon the muddy road. The rain was soaking the horse's rider and the young girl sitting in front of him on the saddle. She had her head bent low and a black hood low over her face to protect herself from the downpour. Even so the rainwater was soaking through her cloak and she was shivering.

They crossed over a rickety wooden bridge, reaching a fork in the road and the rider pulled hard on the reins to get the horse to stop in the slippery mud. He directed the horse up a road with a steep incline that followed beside a gushing river which had broken its banks and was cascading down the hillside. The mud only seemed to get worse as they went up the hill, the water pouring down the road like it was an ankle deep stream.

Behind them four wolves howled and were catching up to the horse and rider. Further back on the main road was a second rider on a jet black mare, its fiery hooves following the muddy road and each step it took caused water to rise as steam as the unholy flames rimming the nightmare's hooves heated the water at an ungodly speed. The hellish equine kept coming, barely hindered by the muddy conditions.

The lead rider on the grey horse kept going, ever uphill, following a road that went up over rough terrain and parallel to the river, fording through a narrow point in the rushing water to reach the western side and put more distance between them and their pursuers. Through the driving rain the rider could see his destination up ahead, a towering monastery built above a waterfall that roared in the distance. The road here was washed out, barely visible under a foot of water. He circled to the north around the pool of water at the base of the waterfall, a huge basin which had broken its banks hours ago during the deluge of rain.

The lead wolf was a better swimmer than the others and caught up to the grey horse and began chomping at its hooves. The beast was black with mangy fur and eyes that shone with an abyssal green light. If it managed to bite the horse and slow it down the other wolves would catch up and tear it, and the riders, to pieces.

The rider, his black beard glistening with rainwater, turned in the saddle and threw a hatchet end over end at the wolf. His aim was true and the small axe cut into the wolf’s skull like a hot knife through butter.

The other three wolves were close behind, and they scrambled across the loose terrain with far more ease than their larger prey.

Looking ahead to the monastery and the towering redwood trees beyond it, the man opened his mouth and hesitated. He wasn’t used to asking for help. He took a deep breath. “Help!” he shouted in elvish. “Help us please!”

A head appeared in the darkness at the top of the monastery, but if they shouted back the rider did not hear them.

The wolves ran up the steep slope on the north side of the waterfalls, gaining quickly on the horse that was struggling in the mud and loose rocks.

The rider looked back and transferred the reins to his left hand. He drew his arming sword and turned to face the wolves.

The wolves snapped their jaws and began to circle their prey. At the bottom of the hill near the flooded river the second rider on the nightmare reined in their steed. Soon the chase would be over.

An arrow took down one of the wolves, its arrowhead puncturing deep into the wolf’s lungs. It yelped and went down, its lungs filling with blood in mere moments.

Two more elves appeared atop the monastery, each carrying yew longbows that measured seven feet from tip to tip. They drew back their bows and released their arrows which rained down on the wolves with deadly accuracy. Each of the wolves died within moments, the green light fading from their eyes.

The rider sheathed his sword and kept going. He was less than seventy yards from the monastery drawbridge. The drawbridge began lowering with a clank and a rattle. By the time it was fully lowered the rider and his female cargo reached the top of the rise. The horse’s hooves clattered across the wet wooden planks of the drawbridge.

Before entering the monastery the rider looked back at the second rider at the base of the hill, their eyes meeting for the briefest of moments.

The rider on the nightmare drew forth a short ivory horn crafted from a mammoth tusk from his saddle and blew a long mournful blast, followed by two more shorter blasts. He then turned and rode off into the darkness of the rainstorm.

A strong gust of wind blew from the north, causing the towering redwood trees to shudder and groan. The wind whipped the rainwater off the stones of the monastery, causing rivulets to spiral downwards on the massive stone structure. Further to the north-east a larger structure dwarfed both the redwoods and the stone monastery, the Monastery Tree of Arcau Falls, which stretched into the heavens in defiance of wind and rain. Tiny white lights came from the tree, a myriad number of glowing moths sheltering in its blessed branches.

Within the monastery elves in robes came out into a tiny courtyard to greet the stranger in their midst. They did so with arrows nocked on their longbows and soon there were a dozen arrows pointed at the rider. Each of the elves stood about five to six feet tall, but with their thin robes and long bows they looked taller still, much like the towering monastery and the redwood trees near it.

The rider let down the shivering girl from the horse, and she stood there on shivering legs. He unbuckled his sword belt and let it fall to the ground beside the horse on the wet cobblestones. “We ask for sanctuary,” he began in elvish and then switched to speaking Korovian. “Please, may I speak with your abbot or whomever is in charge?” He held up his hands and angled them to the side to show he meant no harm.

“Tend to the girl. See that she is fed and warmed by a fire,” said a tall willowy elf carrying a longbow that was eight feet long from tip to tip. He was standing on a raised platform high above the courtyard. He unnocked his arrow and placed it in a quiver on his hip with eleven others with identical white fletching made from goose feathers.

The elves withdrew, melting back into the shadows and alcoves of the monastery. Two of the elves tended to the girl, taking her through a doorway to the warmth and gentle glow of the hearth inside. Only the tall elf remained. He gestured to a staircase with his bow.

The rider dismounted, stepped over his fallen sword, and climbed the staircase that was indicated. He heard the hunting horn in the distance, further away now, and he paused listening to it.

“He is a long way away by now, but do not worry. We have posted sentries,” said the elf, coming down a staircase to meet the human halfway. He opened a door to his left and gestured for the human to go in first. “We can speak and dry off in here.”

The tall rider nodded and ducked under the door frame. The chamber within was a storeroom for grain and other foodstuffs packed into barrels, but it was dry and not overly cold. The only light source was a strange glowing white moth with silver hues on its wings inside a glass jar that lit up the chamber like a tiny candle flame.

“I am Brother Avresteth,” said the elf, removing his hood so the rider could see his long and angular face. “Who was the man following you?”

“As far as I can tell… He is a demon worshiper. Not a Xarsian or anything of that sort. Quite the opposite. They want the girl. I brought her here because I knew she would be safe here. This is hallowed ground, correct?” asked the human rider, who didn’t bother to remove his hood or cloak. He rubbed his face with his hands, shedding some of the water which had collected in his bushy beard.

“It is indeed hallowed ground. It has been since the First Demon War in ancient times, so you guess correctly. No demon can enter this place. But how do you know the man is a demon worshiper?”

“The succubus who orders him about gave it away. The demoness nearly killed me, but I managed to get away. They had multiple children there too, sacrifices I am guessing. I only managed to save one of them, there wasn’t enough room on the horse to carry more, and I couldn’t trust the horse wouldn’t be hunted down easily by their wolves if I didn’t accompany her. It was a difficult choice, but I could only save her. Just her. I don’t even know her name.” He looked away, his face in the shadows and barely visible in the moth’s dim light.

“Where was this place?”

“Leagues from here, in the woods to the west. A hideout of sorts built underground with trap doors leading to the surface. I couldn’t find it again even if I tried. As it stands I have my own journey to complete. I am not even supposed to be here...”

“You know nothing about the girl?”

“Not even her name. An orphan, I suppose. The others were… sickly. The Xarsian Pox I think. I couldn’t risk taking them with me because they might infect people with the pox.”

The elf monk sighed. “The Xarsian Pox twists the minds of its victims, turning their minds to evil. It is more of a curse than a disease. There is nothing you could have done for them, barring powerful magic. If you had become infected you would carry that evil plague with you and wherever you are going. You made the right choice.”

The rider looked towards the door and his hand strayed to his side, where his sword was missing. He took a deep breath. “I cannot stay. I have to be somewhere as soon as possible… Can you take care of the girl? If she is an orphan she should be safe here with you. The demon cultists won’t be able to sacrifice her or whatever they were planning for her.”

“I shall talk to her and see what we can do, but you are correct. She will be safe here. Where are you going that you must leave in such a hurry?”

The rider looked up at the elf, his face and beard illuminated by the light of the moth. “It is far too complicated to explain, and I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

"Well, what is your name at least?" asked the elf.

The rider looked at him, amusement in his eyes. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you my name. Have a good evening elf. I have a long ride ahead of me and I expect there will be more wolves dogging my every step. I know a trick or two though, don’t worry about me."

“What about the rider in black?”

“He wants the girl, not me. If he follows me at all I shall have to take my chances fighting him off. I am not bad with a sword.”