The Gates of Night: The Dreaming Dark - Book 3 (25 page)

Calculations flashed through Pierce’s mind.

Distance to the foe.

The capabilities of Daine’s dagger.

Could Pierce reach the thorn and cut its throat before the creature could alert its allies? No.

Pierce wasn’t even certain that his weapon could hurt the thorn, or what its weaknesses were. Though human in appearance, its anatomy could be very different. More important, if Pierce abandoned his position he was both disobeying orders and leaving Lei vulnerable. He faced the creature, dagger ready, waiting for the thorn to close.

The green man moved forward, thorn-sword lowered. Then, just before it came within Pierce’s reach, it shifted its path and slipped past the group. Now there were thorns all around them, at least a dozen of the little creatures, but not one paid any mind to Pierce or his companions. The thorns kept moving through the forest. The storm lashed the trees, the wind howled, but within moments the thorns had moved on.

Lei caught his attention with a gesture.
Follow
. Her fingers flickered, using more complex signals difficult to catch in the dim light of night, but Pierce’s eyes were keen.
Objective close
.

Lei walked slowly through the storm-torn forest, bracing herself against the wind, and the trees
moved out of her way once more. Moments became minutes as they moved farther through the wood. The storm raged, thorns scuttled through the shadows, but these lesser forces could not match the power of the staff.

Another thorn caught Pierce’s eye. This was the fifth of these creatures he’d had a good look at; the little man was only a few feet away. He was looking at Pierce and the others, but Pierce could tell that the green man couldn’t see him. Still, something was different about this thorn. While the man wasn’t looking directly at him, there was a look of intense concentration on his face. As if he were … listening.

Pierce reached out to grab Lei, but it was too late. The thorn raised a hand, and lightning flared in the sky. The ground exploded behind Pierce, forcing him away from his companions.

The staff stopped singing.

Your protection has fallen. The enemy is aware of your presence
.

Movement all around him, thorns emerging from the woods and darting forward. Through his link to Shira, Pierce could
feel
the positions of his allies,
feel
them spreading to engage the foes. The thorn beside him kneaded the air with its hands, and as Shira’s knowledge flowed through him Pierce knew that the creature was gathering the power of the storm. Another instant and the lightning would strike again.

Pierce didn’t hesitate. He slammed into the thorn, knocking him to the ground and disrupting the complex spell the creature had been weaving. Before the thorn could react, Pierce drove his dagger into its throat.

A thin trickle of sap oozed from the wound, and the thorn jerked in pain. But it was not so easily felled. Pierce
felt its empty hand strike his chestplate. Warmth spread over him, emanating from the point of contact.

Magic!
Shira said.

The heat grew with each passing second, and Pierce could smell the rootlike tendrils below his armor starting to burn. No time for mercy or careful consideration. Pierce smashed the thorn to the ground and slashed with his dagger. The heat was overwhelming his senses. Bubbling sap, the feel of green wood beneath his dagger, and the all-consuming heat. It was a horrible blur of pain and pure force. He could feel his mithral plates beginning to melt … and then it stopped. The thorn’s head had come free in Pierce’s hand, and his armor was cooling in the storm-torn air.

There was motion all around him. Light flashed in the darkness—Daine’s sword, glowing like the moon itself. Xu’sasar spun through the motions of a deadly dance, lashing out with twin blades attached to a long haft. His friends were holding their own, but not without cost. The thorns were hardy and did not fall easily. Shira told him of the wounds of his allies, of the thorn-blade that had pierced Daine’s thigh and the arrow in Xu’sasar’s shoulder. And while a thrust of Daine’s sword brought down the last thorn of the first wave, there were others in the darkness, racing toward the sounds of battle.

“We’re almost there!” Lei cried. “Follow me!”

Pierce followed right on her heels. Movement brought new signals of pain as Pierce’s body warned him of the damage he had suffered, but he fought past the agony and kept moving.

The power is growing
. Even without Shira’s thoughts, Pierce would have known. He could feel it in the air, a presence
pressing in on him. It seemed that the trees were
fighting
him, roots reaching for his feet as branches flew against his face and arms. Lei forced her way through the treacherous undergrowth. They burst out from the trees and into a clearing, into …

The Gates. Nine archways, towering portals even larger than the doors in Karul’tash … doors built for giants. Each arch was made from a different material. One was rough stone, with traces of luminescent moss; it could have been carved from one of the tors they’d seen in the realm of the Huntsman. Another was formed from dark ice. Eight spread in a circle around the clearing, while the ninth stood in the center—a mighty arch of twisted black briars, each barb the length of Pierce’s forearm.

But all were empty. They were open archways. There were no doors to open, and they didn’t appear to go anywhere. Looking through an arch, all Pierce could see was the other side of the meadow.

Look at the sky
, Shira thought.
Look to the moon
.

Pierce looked at the gates again, and then he saw what she meant. When he looked through the different arches, the clearing was the same, but the sky was slightly different. Darker in some, lighter in others. And the moon varied—color, size, and position shifting in each arch.

These are the Gates of Night
, Shira thought,
the passage to the hours of darkness
.

“What do we do?” Pierce said.

“I’m working on it!” Lei said. The staff was singing again, its voice faint, unsteady.

“Work fast,” Daine said, emerging from the treeline with Xu’sasar at his heels. Blood and sap covered his armor.

“Thanks for the advice.” Lei walked forward, approaching the central arch—

And the trees attacked.

No time to react. Roots rose from the ground, gripping Pierce’s legs and pinning him in place. His dagger was out, but before he could cut the tendrils he felt a crushing force around his chest—a tree branch, acting with the fluid motion of a snake and the strength of thick oak. Pierce struggled, but to no avail. The tree was far stronger than he was.

The trees clustered around the clearing, holding just beyond the ring of eight gates. Their limbs flexed and twisted in the darkness, a sea of motion in the shadows. Daine was helpless in the grip of an old pine, while Xu’sasar was nowhere to be seen.

Lei stood in the center of the ring, watching but taking no action. Before Pierce could speak, a passage opened in the wall of writhing wood, and a tall man stepped into the clearing. Both his height and his bearing were reminiscent of the Huntsman they had faced earlier, but where the hunter had been lean, the Woodsman was broad and muscular. He was dressed in loose trousers and a hooded vest woven from dark leaves, and thick vines twined around his powerful arms.

The Woodsman strode slowly into the ring, moving with the confidence of a predator in his lair. A huge axe balanced across one shoulder; he gripped the haft with his left hand, and the polished blade gleamed in the moonlight. Pierce saw that the Woodsman wore a mask beneath his hood, depicting the face of a bearded, smiling man with long mustaches. As Pierce watched, the wooden smile widened.

“So, beloved,” the Woodsman said. “You have returned to me at last.”

T
he songs of the darkwood staff had no words, only the music of an inhuman voice. It did not speak, but Lei could
feel
the emotions of the spirit trapped within the staff as if they were echoes of her own thoughts. She could sense Darkheart reaching through her to touch the forest, to shield Lei and her companions from the eyes of the enemy. When the storm rose around them, Lei didn’t need the staff to tell her what was going on. She
knew
the Woodsman had found them. She could sense his presence, fearsome and terribly familiar, as if this man had haunted her dreams all her life.

At first the staff gave her courage. Darkheart had no fear of the thorns, and as these soldiers of the forest moved around them, this confidence had helped Lei keep her silence and hold her position. The Woodsman had sensed their presence and dispatched these minions, but that was to be expected. Lei and her companions were entering the very heart of his dominion. They simply needed to wait out the storm, until the Woodsman’s attention moved elsewhere.

Then lightning struck. The flare wiped away the night, and a giant’s hand slammed into her. Lei kept
her hands locked around the shaft of the staff even as the shockwave threw her to the ground. Somehow she maintained her grip through the pain and through the fall. Her body ached, but something was wrong on a deeper, more fundamental level. The song had stopped, and so had the stream of emotions flowing from the staff. She felt strangely empty. The only sound was the wind and tiny feet moving through the forest.

Thorns!

A little man emerged from behind the nearest tree, a long thorn-blade in its hand. There was no time for pain, no time to worry about her wounds. Lei could move, and she could fight. The darkwood staff flashed in the night, and the thorn staggered backward. Lei lunged, driving the end of the staff into her tiny foe. She was fighting on pure instinct, spinning, thrusting, turning to face new enemies. And through it all, Lei felt numb, almost detached. It was like another dream, watching another Lei do battle.

Am I?

Lei had received combat training in preparation for her military duties, but she’d never been expected to fight on the front lines. Her task was to repair the injured warforged, not to join them on the battlefield. Despite this simple training, she’d accomplished remarkable things. Less than a year ago, she’d fought a minotaur with her bare hands. She’d battled monsters in the Mournland and horrors beneath the streets of Sharn. Lei had never questioned her abilities before. She’d been taught the basic principles of battle, and usually she was caught up in the moment, letting anger carry her through combat. Surely anyone else would do as well in her place.

Or would they?

The thorns focused on her companions. Three tried to encircle Daine, and Lei brought one down with a perfect blow to the back of the knees. How did I know where to strike? she thought. Was it training? Common sense?

Or had the knowledge been placed within her?

Pain. Triumph
. They were Darkheart’s emotions, faint but growing stronger with each passing second. She could see the path to their destination.

“We’re almost there!” Lei cried. “Follow me!”

The forest fought her. Briars tore at her skin, while vines and roots sought to trip and entangle. She could feel the malevolent attention of the Woodsman, a presence watching from every tree. She kept moving, forcing her way free of branches and brambles. With every step, she found a new strength flowing into her.

Darkheart.

Once she had shared this forest with the Woodsman, and her power grew as they moved toward the center. Lei could feel the anger within the staff. Exile, imprisonment, and a deep hatred for the fey prince who had driven her to it; these joined to form a wave of fury that drove back treacherous vegetation and pursuing thorns. Lei let the rage carry her through the woods, driving her forward.

And then they reached the clearing. Nine towering arches formed of stone and wood, earth and water. The Gates of Night. Eight spread in a ring around the largest of the gates, an arch of black briars. Looking at them, Lei knew this was the very center of the realm, the heart of the Deepwood Moon … and the seat of the Woodsman.

“What do we do?” Pierce said.

The staff sang once more. Emotion raged within it, fear mingled with fury. Its anger still burned, but its song was faint and unsteady; it had used much of its energy in the passage through he forest.

“I’m working on it!” Lei said.
What do I do?
Her vision had said
Darkheart is the key
, and the dryad had led them to the gates.
What happens now?

“Work fast,” Daine said, emerging from the treeline with Xu’sasar at his heels. Blood and sap covered his armor.

“Thanks for the advice,” Lei said. She walked toward the arch of thorns.

She
felt
the surge around her. Roots rose from the ground, branches lashed out like striking serpents, and a wall of wood rose around the clearing. She turned toward Daine, intending to rush to his aid.

No!

It wasn’t a word. It was a burst of pure emotion, an order so strong that it stopped Lei in her tracks. Even as her fury grew, Lei saw that it was too late. Pierce and Daine were helpless in wooden bonds, while Xu’sasar had vanished; if she’d fallen into the sea of writhing trees, there was no telling what might have become of her. Lei couldn’t fight that force. If she moved in, she’d simply be trapped herself. She took a step back toward the arch and waited.