“M…m…master!” a shrill, high-pitched voice called from the entrance to the small, mushroom-shaped cabin. The interior was bathed in darkness but smelled of disease. The servant at the entrance dared go no further.
“What is it Peepers?!” a male tone demanded with little patience. The voice was scratchy and showed evidence of old age. The shrill pitch caused shivers to run down the spine of the small man at the entrance. He could feel a pair of scrutinizing eyes gazing down on him.
“A…a… an airship has crashed, crashed into the forest master! Peepers has seen it!” the smaller man proclaimed. He squinted his abnormally large eyes in an attempt to see through the darkness of the cabin. He would feel much more comfortable knowing where to address his remarks. Still, the sight of his master eluded him. Peepers clutched his hands together pleadingly in front of his chest.
“I know this, you worthless maggot! The Emissary has already informed me of their arrival. Now cease your quivering, step aside, and let us greet our guests properly!” demanded. Peepers quickly stepped aside the sound of growling and snarling quickly filled the inside of the cabin. The child-sized man was quick to raise those pudgy hands over his eyes as four terrifying beasts sprinted out of the cabin and into the forest behind him. “Now go find the fool who wanders this forest. Tell him to find the intruders and kill them, or else.”
“Yes master, right away master! Peepers will go, yes yes!” the yellow skinned servant turned to run and fell down the three steps leading up to the cabin. The miserable little man didn’t even pick himself up fully before dashing away from the deformed hut, leaving the door wide open.
“Hmmm…Strange is not among
them…the Emissary will not be pleased…” the scratchy voice seethed. The door
slammed shut of its own volition before an eerie fog rolled over cabin. When it
dissipated, the area where the hut had been was shrouded in darkness.
MARVEL 2000 PRESENTS...
"THE FOREST OF DARKNESS"
BOOK I BOOK II BOOK III BOOK IV
Written by Ben Wolfert
“This isn’t good…in fact, this is pretty bad…” Scott heard a voice say. Consciousness was just returning to him, and everything seemed so muddled. His head was swimming in a sea of pain, and the taste of vomit remained firmly entrenched in his mouth. The sheer thought of moving or opening his eyes caused a spasm of pain to wrack his brain.
“At least we are still alive my friend,” another, more educated sounding voice chimed in. Scott knew this one for sure. Only Hank could sound so intelligent with so simple a statement. The thought that Hank was here gave Scott a little more confidence as he began to emerge from his dazed state.
“Aw stow it big boy. The ship’s been completely destroyed. Everyone but you the kid and me are dead. Hell, we couldn’t even find Strange’s body. And to top it all off, we’re stuck in the middle of the god damned forest!” the other voice responded. Now that things were a bit clearer, Scott knew it was Clint speaking to Hank. The captain of Wundagore’s guards, the one they nicknamed Hawkeye, did not sound happy.
“I’m sure Stephen has survived, and will return to retrieve us,” Hank’s voice remained disturbingly calm in comparison to Clint’s.
“How are you so sure? You’ve got us planted here like a tree with a lit fire. We’re drawing too much attention to ourselves, and your buddy ain’t coming. So why don’t you use that big cantaloupe of yours and think of a better plan then just sitting here and waiting!” Clint demanded. Scott could hear someone standing to his feet. Then he heard, and felt (through the ground) something heavier getting to its feet. By now it seemed as if Clint and Hank were at each other’s throats.
“I don’t hear you postulating any alternative plans!” Hank’s voice had changed, turning to more of a growl now. It was at this point that Scott sat up and opened his eyes. He had been lying on some grass in the middle of a small clearing. A small fire burned between the feuding men and him. Clouds gathered reluctantly overhead, and the sound of a wind blowing settled in-between the words of the arguing men.
“Where are we?” Scott groaned loud enough to draw the attention of Hank and Clint. The groan was only partially legitimate; his main goal had been to stop the in fighting.
“Thank goodness you’re ok,” Hank’s tone quickly returned to that of a gentle intellect as he leapt over the fire in a single bound and landed beside Scott, placing an oversized hand to the boy’s forehead. Satisfied that it wasn’t too hot he took a step back and did a more general examination.
“I’m fine Hank, thanks. But where are we?” Scott repeated his initial question, as it had not yet been answered. He took a small step back from Hank. The concern was certainly appreciated, but he didn’t need to be babied. Hadn’t he already proven that he could hold his own?
“In deep shit kid, that’s where,” Clint chimed in now, leaning against a nearby tree. He was idly sharpening an arrowhead as he spoke.
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Scott shot back. Hawkeye paused from his sharpening and shot a grin across the fire.
“Our vessel crashed in the Forest of Shadows Scott. We fear the rest of the crew may have perished-“ Hank began.
“We know they’re dead kid. The ship was done, and we needed to get out of there before anything else happened. So we came to this clearing and set up camp. It’s that simple” Clint interjected. Hank shot the marksman an angry glance but said nothing further.
“What about Dr. Strange?” Scott asked. He brought a hand to his formerly infected eye. It still felt unnatural to have it uncovered. For so long, he had been the kid with the infected eye. It was what had made him different, what identified him. And now it was gone. Just like that.
“We couldn’t find him kid. I’m sorry,” Clint continued, although he was looking to Hank when the apology came out.
“So…what is this place?” Scott asked, turning fully to Hank now. The professor seemed validated that the question was directed to him, and the normal amount of pomp and cheer seemed to return to Hank’s demeanor.
“The Forest of Shadows…it lies on the boarder of Avalon and Wundagore. It is suspected that a dark wizard fled here sometime after King Anthony assumed power in Avalon. Shortly thereafter, a wall of shadow surrounded the deeper levels of the woods. A barrier of pure darkness, even Stephen was unable to penetrate its guard. Beyond a certain point nothing may enter…and nothing has been known to leave. Dr. Strange believes that it is a Soul Curse,” Hank assumed his role of teacher, speaking in a lofty and educated tone.
“What’s a Soul Curse?” Scott played along, intrigued.
“A curse reinforced by the soul of an innocent being. That person must willingly give their soul to the one enabling the curse. This sort of enchantment becomes infinitely more powerful with the backing of a soul’s energy, but it comes with a price,” Hank continued grimly.
“What’s that?”
“The soul starts to rot, and eventually nothin’s left,” Clint took over, looking up from the arrow in his hand. “And once that’s done…well, the idiot who sold his soul isn’t really there anymore…they’re worse than a bloody demon.”
“It’s not always that simple Clint. Often times these poor souls, excuse the pun, are forced into their predicament by the enchanter.” A hollow silence filled the clearing.
“So…what side of the barrier did we fall on?” Scott wondered aloud.
“The inside I’m afraid. I believe the force of our impact may have been enough to break through, although we were unable to exit.” Hank responded quietly. Silence again. Although this time it wasn’t a voice that broke the silence. Scott and Hank glanced with alarm at Clint when the archer produced a razor sharp arrow from his quiver and brought his bow to bear. He drew the bowstring as far back as it would go, the glinting arrow point aimed directly at his two traveling companions. With one quick turn of his wrist the weapon turned upwards and the projectile shot straight up into the trees. Scott remained frozen in place as a hideous looking crow dropped to Clint’s feet before exploding into a cloud of black smoke, leaving only an arrow.
“Run! Monsters!” Clint yelled, now taking off in a full sprint towards Hank and Scott. Hank braced himself and Scott continued to remain frozen in place as a gruesome collection of demonic forest animals emerged from the trees where Hawkeye had previously been. Clint streaked past the two men without Scott even noticing, and only Hank yanking firmly on his tunic broke the boy’s dazed state. Scott nearly flew forward from the force of McCoy’s pull before he managed to catch himself and begin sprinting. No sooner did he seem to reach his fastest speed than Clint seemed to be stopping. Scott came to a screeching halt a few feet further, yelling back.
“Come on Clint!” the tone of urgency in Summers’ voice couldn’t be overstated.
“Don’t worry kid…just wanted to get into a better position,” Clint said. He spread his legs shoulder with apart and pulled another arrow from his quiver. He kept the wooden shaft on eye level and drew it back on the bow. The sleek whistling of wind was accompanied by a sickening “SHUNK”, indicating the arrow had met its mark. Barton was preparing another strike when a massive brown bear with gleaming red eyes emerged from the between the trees Hawkeye had just used as a bottleneck. Scott drew his dagger but wasn’t even able to step forward before Hank came crashing down from above, driving his massive feet into the bear’s back. The bear groaned before rolling over and exploding into another cloud of pitch-black fog.
“That should keep them busy for a while…now let’s get going before we encounter any more monsters,” Clint commanded. Hank was silent in his agreement, brushing his hands together. He took another glance back at the bottleneck and the clearing beyond it before moving to Scott’s side. He produced a small green vial from the insides of his cloak and offered it to his young friend.
“Take this potion and keep it safe. Should you engender any injuries, consume its contents and you will be fine,” Hank said warmly. But Scott could detect a hint of anxiety in the hulking man’s tone.
“Does this sort of stuff happen often?” Scott asked Clint as he placed the vial firmly inside the tight folds of his tunic. The captain of the guards was already moving ahead, causing Scott to stumble after him with Hank bringing up the rear.
“Random encounters are part of the job kid. With the number of monsters in the wilderness increasing over the past few years, it’s more rare to not see some of these beasts on a trip. A lotta the eggheads want to say that it’s all part of some prophecy, but that’s a bunch of baloney if you ask me. The reason for all these fiends showin up is that we let yahoos like the wizard in this forest just camp out. Ca…I mean, King Steven’s the only one interested in going out and putting these guys away for good. But that just ain’t enough sometimes,” Clint’s words were as natural as his footsteps. The sky overhead was littered with clouds, and the foliage overhead kept what little moonlight there was from filtering down to the ground.
The party continued on
through the gnarled roots and dead shrubbery of the forest with an air of
silence about them. Clint seemed focused entirely on the path ahead, bow and
arrow already in hand. He would occasionally fire into the thicket or branches
above, and almost every time the whistle of the arrow would be accompanied by
the death knell of some creature. Scott remained fascinated with everything
around him, although his sense of discovery was slowly being overrun by doubt
and fear. After this, it would be time to bring his grand adventure to an end.
He had had enough. Hank’s eyes never remained in any one place for more than a
second, constantly alert for any threats in the darkness around them. He had
protected the boy thus far; he wouldn’t fail now. But there was a constantly
growing fear that the party would encounter the dark wizard of the forest. If
it was whom Hank believed it to be, they would be in great peril…
"SHADOWS AND BEASTS"
“Been a while since we left the camp…any idea how long we’ve been walking big boy?” Clint asked, pausing for a moment.
“From the sporadic glances of the moon I’ve been able to obtain, I would hypothesize we’ve been moving for at least an hour…daybreak should be arriving shortly,” Hank replied curtly. Mr. Barton’s seeming lack of respect was beginning to grate on him. So he turned to the other member of their party, Scott, who seemed to be falling further and further behind the leader. “Are you all right Scott?” If Hank had been annoyed with Clint, it wasn’t evident when he addressed his young companion.
“Yeah…I’m fine…” Summers replied in a more sullen tone. To be completely truthful, the boy was far from fine. His legs ached with every additional step taken. The trees and landscape around them looked so much alike that he thought they were going in circles. But, fearing what Hank and Clint would think, he kept this concern to himself. Just as he kept secret the desire to rest. He clung to the belief that Clint Barton, Hawkeye, the adventurer, and Hank McCoy, the intelligent and concerned professor, would lead him safely from the dark, eerie forest. It was, unfortunately, all he had left.
“There’s a clearing up ahead…we can try and camp out there until the sun comes up. It should be safer to travel then,” Clint conceded, all while forging ahead. That was something Scott had noticed since the crash landing. Hawkeye always faced forward and pressed ahead. Even when speaking to them, he wouldn’t turn around. He simply assumed they were listening and issued the orders for their own benefit. It was Barton’s obligation to remain with them, but Scott suspected it wasn’t what the man preferred. Despite his youth and inexperience, Scott knew they would have to work together successfully in order to escape their current predicament.
Still, no more words were exchanged as the party moved into the grass covered clearing, looking hopefully to the partially shrouded moon. Scott flopped to the ground underneath the lone distinctive marking of the clearing, a small yet oddly thriving tree. The canopy of leaves sat no more than fifteen feet off of the ground, but all of the foliage was a healthy green, and the modest sized tree trunk was hearty and full. Scott’s eyes slid shut for a moment, but he could still hear Hank scamper up the tree and Clint begin to sharpen another arrow.
He could hear them as they approached the clearing. The wizard’s wide-eyed servant had come to him and informed of these intruders, these three men who wandered the forest. Although, from the sounds of it, one was just a boy. He had hoped, of course, that they would not find their way to this clearing. This was his glade, his paradise. This was where, every morning when the last shards of darkness were dissolving under the rising sun, he could find the light. His light. This was where he could find his salvation. He would never leave the small clearing. But these three intruders…these trespassers…they could ruin everything. The wizard wanted them dead, this is what the pathetic minion had told him. He could care less of course; but now they were here, underneath the tree. In the clearing. And the sun would be rising soon.
He could feel two of them. Where had the third gone? One was lying down in the shadows of the tree, while the other stood against the trunk. He had felt the third for a moment; such large feet that one had! But then the feeling had vanished. Had that one left the clearing? It didn’t matter. He knew what had to be done.
“Leave this place…” a sinister voice whispered into Scott’s ear.
“Whuh…” the youth emerged from the light slumber he had drifted into.
“Get out!” the voice screamed now, reverberating throughout the clearing. A flock of ravens fled from the edge of the forest surrounding the glade. Scott leapt to his feet and instinctively drew the dagger from his belt with a shaky hand. Hazel eyes frantically scanned the ground; that was where the voice had originated from. Hawkeye was much more sure of his actions, drawing the arrow back in his bow before Scott had even gotten up. The arrow’s tip, trained down at the ground, sailed smoothly through the air as Clint moved from left to right and then back again.
“I warned you…” the voice didn’t echo as much this time. In fact, it seemed to be speaking from right next to and below Scott. Both dagger and arrow were directed towards the shadow-cloaked ground. The darkness seemed waver like a liquid surface, with concentric circles moving outward. Both Scott and Clint took an instinctive step backwards, away from the pool of shadows. The circles grew wider and wider until the darkness began to boil over. Up from the pool a cloaked figure emerged. The garment was nearly as dark as the shadows, although appeared to be a deep shade of blue. It flowed superfluously over the form underneath and disguised all features. The figure’s head was dipped, and the shadows of the hood provided a veil of darkness. Still, the cloaked man towered over Scott by almost a foot, casting an intimidating image. Without provocation the man flung his cloak wide open. Clint raised his bow to fire at the man’s body but stopped just short of releasing the arrow. There was no body to aim at. Where there should have been a form underneath the cloak, there was only darkness, never ending darkness. Before anyone could react a thick black smoke began to billow outwards from the inky blackness. Scott could feel the smog choking him and dove away from the man underneath the tree, gasping for breath and wiping tears from his eyes. Hawkeye had done similarly on the other side of the attacker.
The cloaked figure paused for a moment to observe his handiwork. After the short paused he began to move towards Scott, although not in the manner one would expect a normal man to walk. He seemed to glide along the ground, the bottom of his cloak skirting the tips of the grass blades. The seemingly effortless movement and ominous darkness made Scott’s eyes open wide in fear. Closer and closer still the cloaked man drew, and Scott could feel the air around him go cold even as his own breath emerged with thick white puffs of smoke. The cloak began to open up when it came within a few feet of the young boy. Just when it appeared as if the cloak was prepared to swallow Scott in its darkness a great rustling could be heard in the tree above. Hank plummeted from the tree feet first, headed straight for the hood of the cloak. Yet the cloaked man didn’t bother to move much less look up, simply remaining stationary as Hank came crashing down. But instead of the sickening sound of a body cracking beneath McCoy’s awesome form, the cloak simply collapsed on itself before disappearing into the ground entirely. Hank stared at the ground with a flabbergasted expression. Scott loosened the grip on his dagger, but Clint kept his arrow pulled taut against the bowstring. No one said a word.
The figure of darkness spiraled out of the ground behind Hank before Scott could shout a warning to his friend. Hawkeye’s reflexes were faster and enabled him to get off a clean shot at the man’s back. What he didn’t count on was having the projectile simply vanish inside the infinite darkness of the creature’s cloak. All the while Hank felt a strong suction on his backside. The force increased in nature as he turned to glanced back to discover the threat behind him. But by then he had lost his footing and was plummeting backwards into the inky blackness.
“Hank!” Scott yelled, reaching out in vain. Hank threw his arm out, but it was too late as he disappeared inside of the black hole that was this man’s cloak. With Hank seemingly digested into the abyss of his garment, the mystery assailant continued forward towards Summers.
“It’s never easy with the tall dark and creepy ones,” Clint muttered, fishing around inside his quiver with an increasing sense of urgency. His hand finally settled on a slightly slimmer arrow shaft, which he quickly removed and loaded. The tip of the projectile wasn’t a typical arrowhead, but a shimmering golden cylinder. “Hey! You! The fashionably challenged one!” Clint yelled out. He didn’t even wait for Scott’s attacker to fully turn before he released the bowstring. The figure turned to watch the arrow soar towards his open cloak, leaving a soft trail of golden light behind it. The cloak seemed to give pause for a moment before the arrow exploded directly in front of him. Scott was forced to shield his eyes as a blinding light filled the entire glen. It was as if the sun had immediately risen to the top of its arc. A deep shriek emerged from the cloaked figure, and the light subsided just in time for Scott to watch the garment sinking back into the darkness, leaving a huddled, shivering Hank McCoy on the ground in its wake. This time Scott rushed immediately to the man’s side, placing his arms around the bigger man’s shoulders as best he could.
“Hank! Are you ok?” Scott shouted, doing his best to keep the professor from trembling. Hank had already armed another arrow, waving it constantly at the ground around them.
“Ss…s..s.o cold…” was all the large man could say, his teeth constantly chattering and clacking together.
“What was that?!” Scott asked to the other member of his party. Clint still appeared to be on high alert. High strung was the somewhat ironic term that came to Scott at that moment.
“Enchanted arrow…expensive and tedious to make. But obviously effective. Gotta make sure Strange gives me another one once this is all over. How’s the big guy?” Barton replied after muttering to himself for a moment. He seemed to be taking everything in stride at the moment.
“F..f..fine” Hank managed to reply a little bit clearer. With Scott’s help he stood to his feet, but continued to shake uncontrollably. Eventually the tremors lessened in quantity and magnitude, but a distant, fearful look remained inside of Hank McCoy’s normally glowing eyes. It was a look that only made Scott worry even more.
The knocking on the door of the small home was frantically paced. Peepers shifted about anxiously outside of the vile looking hut in the middle of the forest, constantly looking around him with those unnaturally large eyes. The door creaked open, but the chamber beyond the doorway remained bathed in darkness, hidden even from Peepers’ extraordinary gaze.
“What is it Peepers?” the scratchy voice cawed.
“H..h..he has failed sir! The cursed one has failed!” Peepers rushed to say.
“Of course…the fool has not completely lost his soul yet. When the curse has run its course and his essence has been fully eroded he will kill without consideration. But for now he is still human enough to restrain himself,” the voice from the darkness mused.
“What will you do next master?” Peepers inquired with a sickening tone. He knew full well what the next course of action would be. The sudden hunger in his voice indicated this.
“The trespassers must not see the light of day. The Hounds will see to it that they don’t,” the voice threatened before breaking out in a shrill laugh that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire forest.
“Did you hear something?” Scott asked, taking a step away from the recovering Hank. He peered into the surrounding forest for a moment before looking back towards the tree where Clint was tending to a still shaken McCoy. Both men paused and appeared to turn their heads slightly, as if it would enable them to hear better. The moon was more than halfway through the descent from its apex in the night sky, and everything around the party had gone still. The wind has ceased its course through the maze of gnarled tree trunks. The constant chirping of insects had gone from a steady din to a near inaudible whisper. The time between the howls of various animals and monsters had grown increasingly longer.
“Nothin doin kid. This place is starting to get to you. Now come back here and stay by big boy. Not much longer till the sun rises and we can start to try and find a way out of this god damn place,” Clint barked, going back to examine Hank, who still showed his resentment at being called ‘big boy’.
“Yeah…you’re prolly right,” Scott resigned himself to defeat, trudging back towards the tree with heavy feet. He heard soft rumblings similar to the growling of a dog behind him but simply ignored it, figuring it was simply the forest playing tricks on him. The growling persisted though, and one, than two, and finally three more voices added to the symphony. The angry rumbling persisted before crescendoing into a chorus of bloodthirsty howls that split the still night air like Death’s scythe. Scott froze in his tracks, watching as both Hank and Clint snapped their attention to the woods behind him.
“Scott…run behind us…quickly,” Hank spoke in a hushed tone. He made no sudden movements, trying to hide the fact that he was even speaking. Any lingering effects from his time inside the cloak had disappeared, leaving the normal, steadfast Hank McCoy in its place.
“And make it quick kid…you’re blocking my shot,” Hawkeye grunted through the side of his mouth. He too held as still as possible, keeping his bow down at his waist for the time being. But Scott could see the tips of his fingers moving back and forth, as if he were playing imaginary piano keys. The archer was clearly itching to reach into his quiver and sling the first arrow he grabbed a hold of. Another blood curdling howl was all it took to send Scott flying on the tips of his toes, sprinting as quickly as he could. The sound of paws striking the ground behind him grew stronger, inspiring such fear that the young boy found himself diving between his two protectors.
To describe the creatures striding towards the adventures as wolves would be misleading. While the four beasts took the general shape of a canine, they possessed features far more gruesome than any species known to man. Each monster stood at least four feet tall and had to weigh only a little less than the slender yet tall Summers boy. The body of each Hound was massive while sleek, supported by thick legs capped with twisted and malformed paws. Thick, dark hair stood on end, making the beasts appear even larger. Their eyes, a bloody crimson shade, actually glimmered in the remaining darkness. Spit and thick clots of foam seeped angrily from between bloodstained razor sharp fangs. The quartet paused just short of the trio. All four beasts craned their necks and howled hauntingly at the setting moon. They didn’t even bother to finish howling before dashing towards their human prey.
Hawkeye was the first to respond of course, already loading an arrow into his bow when the Hounds began their attack. The shot cruised through the air before lodging itself firmly into the back of the nearest Hound. The creature didn’t even register the hit thought, continuing to surge forward unabated. Clint just barely managed to pull his bow up in defense as the beast leapt forward, teeth bared. The two tumbled to the ground, with Hawkeye pinned beneath the Hound. Barton’s bow was the only thing that kept the Hound from tearing his flesh to ribbons with its jagged paws. Clint held onto the device as tightly as he could on either end, trying to push up against the beast’s paws, which were planted firmly on the middle of the bow. He could already feel his arms begin to tremble slightly beneath the weight of the beast.
Hank moved quickly to aid his comrade, grabbing the Hound by the nape of its neck with his massive hand. Before he could lift the creature one of its companions came to its defense, leaping ruthlessly at Hank. McCoy was ready for the assault though, and caught this beast, the smallest of the four, with a backhand swing of his other fist. The Hound yelped as it flew to the side, landing a few feet away. Hank’s attention returned to the Hound caught within his grasp, which was writhing angrily, still intent at biting Clint’s head off. The second attempt at removing the beats was interrupted when another one of its pack slammed head first into Hank’s stomach. Scott was amazed to watch his brick wall of a friend stumble back, forced to release his hold on Clint’s attacker. The first Hound that had been thrown aside was on its feet again now, and before Scott could shout a warning the creature had landed on Hank’s back, dragging him to the ground with the help of the other. Resolved to do something, Scott drew his dagger and started towards Clint when he heard a near paralyzing growl only a few feet away. The fourth Hound was staring directly at him, with a small puddle of thick, slimy spit pooling beneath its mouth. Scott remained frozen while letting his eyes wander back and forth between his two struggling friends. There was only one thing for him to do. Run.
“Scott! No!” Hank shouted as he wrestled to keep the two hounds attacking him at bay, watching as his young companion, the boy he had been told to take care of and had taken quite a fancying to, sprinted away from the clearing, back towards the woods. His words were useless though as the boy moved further and further away. The one remaining Hound watched for only a moment, as if in sheer amusement, before taking off after its prey.
Scott could feel his heart pounding as he darted back into the thickets of the forest, evading trees and overgrown roots as best he could. His body pushed itself as hard as it could on a mixture of fear and adrenaline, although the fear was overwhelming any other sensation. Believing it would make him faster, he dropped his dagger; trying to shed any unnecessary weight. Scott’s fear magnified the increasingly louder sound of footfalls behind him, making it seem as if it were a runaway horse that was chasing him. The echo of paws on the ground filled his head until it was all he could hear. But the homesick boy didn’t dare look backwards, pushing forward as best he could. Low-lying branches scratched relentlessly at his face while sharp vines and shrubbery tore at his ankles and lower legs. Scott did everything he could to run faster still. Then the constant crashing of paws behind him stopped. The Hound had leapt forward; Scott could even feel the forward push of the wind at his back.
And that was when his feet became tangled in an aboveground tree root.
The ground came up to meet him with a jaw-rattling embrace even as the Hound sailed clear over his back. Scott, groaned pushing off his chest and looking up groggily. The beast had just finished skidding across a patch of leaves, and had turned to face its fallen prey. Scott was forced to squint his eyes as the first rays of sunlight emerged through the knot of trees and bushes, framing the Hound in a haunting light. The beast howled one last time before pouncing forward. Scott shielded his eyes, not out of fear but because at that exact moment a blinding light filled the entire area around him. The sensation of a monstrous dog landing on him never came; instead he heard the Hound yelp in agony before running off. Scott waited several moments after the Hound had disappeared before opening his eyes once more. The bottom edges of a pure white cloak lapped at the ground in front of him. The garment seemed to be made of the finest silk, so that the sun’s rays seemed to make the material shine even brighter. Scott’s hazel eyes continued to work their way of the cloaked figure, taking a slight moment longer to notice and admire the outline of a woman’s bosom before proceeding. The cloak had a hood that was drawn down around the owner’s neck so that Scott could get a clear view of their face, framed by the early morning sun. It was a young woman, and a beautiful one at that.
"SOUL CURSES AND CURSED SOULS"
Scott remained chest-down on the ground staring up at his rescuer with a dazed look in his hazel eyes. The young woman didn’t seem to mind at all; she simply chuckled demurely before crossing her arms over the front of her chest. Her blue eyes peered down curiously at Scott, as if she were looking into his very soul. Scott didn’t notice of course, still rather caught up in admiring this lady in white. She was of roughly average height, about halfway between five and six feet. Despite the pristine, flowy cloak she wore, it was evident a slender frame was contained beneath. Wavy, light blonde locks splashed down around her angelic face before ending just below her shoulders. Her skin was a fair shade of white, and managed to make her sea blue eyes stand out even more. A faint white outline of an oval seemed to surround her left eye, the only apparent blemish on an otherwise perfect face. It was the closest thing to an angel Scott had ever seen.
“Scott? Scott!” Hank yelled as he bounded through the forest, finally spying his young friend lying on the ground. The professor leapt to the boy’s side in one bound, grabbed the back of Scott’s cloak, and lifted him like one would lift a kitten by the scruff of its neck. Hank craned his head to a bit underneath and to the side, examining Scott, who simply laughed at the absurdity of what was going on. The woman in the white cloak laughed as well.
“I’m fine Hank…thanks,” Scott said through his chuckles. The humor of the situation overwhelmed the resentment Scott would have felt for being babied. He didn’t put forth any attempt to escape McCoy’s grasp, just waiting until Hank was satisfied and dropped him.
“Thank goodness you are in good health. We were struggling with those monsters when a bright light seemed to fill the entire forest. The creatures fled, and we came looking for you immediately,” Hank gushed.
“Who’s your friend?” was all Hawkeye said when he emerged from behind Hank. Scott found himself free to move a moment later, and turned to examine his two friends. If anything, Hank actually better than he had before the Hounds had struck. Sure, several scratches were littered around his body, most of his tunic ripped or muddied. But his demeanor was far cry from the sullen mood he had been in after emerging from the shadowy man’s cloak. Hawkeye didn’t appear to be so fortunate. His face was scratched, and his bow, which he held gingerly in his bleeding right hand, was gnarled and chewed up. A thick gash in his abdomen continued to ooze blood at an excruciatingly slow rate.
“Wh…oh, her? Uhm…well…” Scott paused before rubbing the back of his head bashfully. “I don’t really…”
“Tandy,” the sweet voice interjected. Hank, Clint, and Scott all turned to face the shorter woman. She offered a warm, welcoming smile, adding a livelier element to what otherwise was a cold and desolate forest atmosphere. All three males were at a lack of words, although for different reasons. Scott was still relatively smitten with idea of such a beautiful woman in this dark hell. Hank was examining Tandy as he did everything else; like a science experiment, cataloguing every feature and forming his own quiet hypothesis. Clint was examining Tandy out of a general mistrust for anything that wasn’t big and hairy (Hank) or tall and pencil thin (Scott). Only Scott was startled when Tandy moved forward, that cloak flowing elegantly about her as she made her way past him, and then Hank, before arriving in front of Hawkeye.
“Hold still please,” that soft voice insisted as a dainty hand emerged from right sleeve. Clint eyed the appendage warily, but did as he was told. Tandy placed her hand over the gash on his abdomen. Scott could see a small white light form, no brighter than the glow a firefly gives off. Then the radiance grew to the size of a small sphere. And, like an ocean’s wave, the light eventually subsided. And when it did, Clint’s flesh was perfectly healthy, only the lingering bloodstains remaining as a reminder of the wound. The healing woman proceeded to cup Clint’s injured hand in-between her own, eliciting a slight raise of the archer’s eyebrows. When she released her embrace his hand no longer ached.
“Thanks,” Clint responded before adding just as quickly, “what are you doing wandering this forest lady?” Scott wasn’t surprised. Clint Barton was all business, especially when it came to being in a hostile environment.
“That’s a long story I’m afraid,” Tandy began, taking a step back from Hawkeye.
“We have a plethora of time madame, unless you might have a solution to the shadowy barricade that runs the circumference of these woods,” Hank chimed in, and Scott found himself nodding in agreement.
“I…do. But,” Tandy paused, biting her lip anxiously. She was obviously conflicted on something. “I really can’t tell you,” she finally admitted, looking back to the three men. Her voice was plagued with guilt, and her formerly cheerful expression had turned deathly somber.
“Are you serious? Do you honestly expect to tell us you know a way out of this place and then decide it’s some big secret?” Clint flared up, taking a step forward. Hank took a step in front of the archer. Clint stared incensed at the broad backside in front of him. He wasn’t sure whom he wanted to strangle more; the cryptic blonde or the oversized professor.
“Please…Tandy,” Scott spoke up now, finding his voice. He took a small step forward.
“My name is Scott. This is Hank and Clint. Our airship crashed in the forest. We were going to the Iron City…with a very important message. But really…I just want to go home,” Scott revealed. Hank was impressed with the gusto of his young companion. Scott had effectively taken control of the situation, explaining their crisis and finishing with a heart felt plea. And it appeared to be working. Tandy glanced down to the side, holding her right arm tightly with her left hand.
“It’s not his fault…he was just trying to protect me…” she said when she next looked back to her audience. The first signs of tears appeared in the shallows of her eyes.
“What?” Scott replied, somewhat baffled as to how she got to the point she was at now. “Whose fault is what?”
“The man in the cloak,” Hank muttered more to himself than anyone else as he continued to assemble the jigsaw puzzle inside of his mind. He looked up to Tandy, staring her directly in the eye. “You know him then?”
“Yes…” her tone dropped. Silence. Realizing that the pressure was on her to explain, Tandy continued. “His name is Tyrone. Let us return to the clearing…I’ll explain everything to you there…” Tandy ended her statement before walking briskly past all three adventurers. For a moment Scott felt bad for pushing the young woman to such an emotional state.
“My name is Tandy Bowen. I grew up just outside of Avalon. My parents were members of King Magnus’s court…it meant everything to them,” Tandy explained. The party was now spread out underneath the tree where they had been attacked the previous evening. By now the sun was fully in the sky, and the forest around them no longer appeared as foreboding. Scott was careful not to lie on his back, certain he would fall asleep if he did.
“My father and I were very close…he would spend days at a time with me. My mother and I…we were never that close. She was always more concerned with keeping up her appearances. Being a model member of the court. When Avalon and Wundagore went to war, my father went as well. When he didn’t return, my mother re-married to another member of the court. But my stepfather was more like my mother than my real father. Never really attempted to get to know me, you know,” Tandy explained. During the more personal moments she would look away from the others, or occupy her hands with blades of grass.
“I just got really fed up with being ignored and stuck in some big house. So one day, I ran away, to the new capital of Avalon. The Iron City. I didn’t plan on staying. You know how it is when you’re young. Always pretend to run away…get a distance from home and then turn around. See if anyone noticed you were gone. Well, before I could turn around, I met Tyrone. He ran away from home too, but he meant for it to be permanent. He was a thief on the streets of the Iron City. But he didn’t try to steal from me…actually, he tried to help me. It was…sweet.” Tandy bit her lower lip again.
“After a few days, some goons my mom hired came looking for me. They were there to take me home. But I didn’t want to go. No one loved me there; no one paid attention to me. Ty…he cared for me. He barely knew me, but he made sure I was ok. He suggested we run away…get out of the city and hide in the countryside. This is the place we wound up…almost three years ago.”
“You’ve been stuck in this death trap for three years? You should be dead by now,” Clint said bluntly. Both Hank and Scott shot him scathing looks for interrupting and being insensitive.
“I take it you had a run in with the dark wizard who dwells here?” Hank asked, trying to re-establish the focus of Tandy’s story. This was what he had been interested in all along of course.
“Y…yes. He was horrifying. His skin was this disgusting brown color, and he had more wrinkles than a prune. Beady eyes, and shriveled hands. I wanted to run as soon as I saw him. But we were exhausted, and he summoned his hounds...we didn’t know what to do,” Tandy’s voice was fluctuating more and more now, and Scott found himself moving to put a hand on her shoulder. When she regained her composure, the history lesson continued.
“Ty stepped in front of me, you know, to protect me. I almost wish we had tried to run. When that monster saw how Ty cared about me, he made an offer. How, if Tyrone would sign a contract, he wouldn’t hurt me. He sold his soul so I could go free,” Tandy blurted, tears finally pouring from her eyes. Scott tightened his grip, and Hank moved to the girl’s side as well. Clint maintained his distance. He still hadn’t heard anything useful, and his patience was beginning to grow thin. He sympathized with this girl, but it sounded like her boyfriend was a lost cause already. They weren’t.
“I’m sorry, but if your friend signed what I can only imagine was a Soul Curse for your freedom…why are you still here?” Hank asked, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was thinking in the same vein as Hawkeye in this regard. Certain information was needed before a plan could be formulated for their escape from the Forest of Shadows.
“Ty’s stubborn…but so am I. I would never leave him. He’s the one person, beside my real dad, who ever really cared for me. I…love him. So I insisted on staying. That was when things got really bad. The wizard tried to curse me too. But I think it backfired…I don’t really know…” Tandy’s words wandered off into silence as she gazed off in the distance. Hank knew she was starting to lose focus. It had to be almost midday by that point.
“Why don’t you explain Tyrone’s curse? Maybe we can help?” Hank suggested. He doubted they could truly be of any assistance, but it would help coerce Tandy into supplying as much information as possible.
“Really? Well…his curse is sorta like mine. Whenever the sun sets, Tyrone appears in the forest, with that dark cloak on. But as soon as there’s no more sunlight, I…black out. I don’t know what happens, but Ty says I simply vanish in a flash of light. Then he sits in this clearing all night. He says it gets colder everyday. Like he’s losing himself. When we were first cursed, he had all of his body, and he could take the cloak off if he wanted. But…” Tandy stopped again. Scott rubbed her shoulder, trying to coax her further.
“…he can’t do that anymore. Like his body is lost in the shadow. It’s just not there anymore. He thinks he’ll be all shadow soon…like some sort of demon. I forget what it’s called. I don’t want to lose him,” Tandy admitted, trembling with fear now.
“A transformation curse…they normally don’t take three years to work. Something has been retarding the soul’s erosion…could you explain your own curse a little further?” Hank mused. Scott could practically see the gears working in the professor’s head, and the excited tone in his voice indicated something special had caught his attention.
“Well…I vanish whenever the sun sets…and I come back whenever it rises. So Ty and I always meet here in this clearing, for a few minutes when the sunsets and the sun rises. It’s the only reason I’ve lasted this long. The curse gave me this cloak, and the healing powers I used on your friend…that’s why I think the wizard’s magic didn’t work…”
“I believe you might be the only reason Tyrone has lasted this long actually,” Hank postulated, rubbing his chin in that cliché thinking posture. “Have you attempted to challenge the wizard who cursed the two of you?”
“I do not think that’s possible. You see, he uses the curse on Tyrone to surround the forest in shadows. He uses those same shadows to hide his twisted little hut, not far from here. The only way I could get to him was with Tyrone’s help, but he can’t unless the wizard wills it…it’s useless,” Tandy resigned herself to defeat.
Hank nodded silently. Clint looked down at his feet. Scott looked at Hank. No one spoke as everyone digested everything they had just been told.
“So the only way out of here is through that old bastard…you know the jerk’s name?” Clint was the first one to speak.
“Yes…his name is Kulan Gath.”
“Peepers!” Kulan Gath screeched. Even though his feeble servant wasn’t in the hut, Gath knew he would hear his master’s beckon. And, true to form, the door to the now visible hut creaked tenuously open a moment later. As was usually the case, Gath preferred to dwell in darkness. This time was no different, despite his agitated mood.
“Yes master?!” Peepers replied hurriedly. If he were just a fraction of a second too late for Gath’s liking, it would result in a strict punishment.
“Tell me what you have seen,” Gath commanded from the shadows.
“The Hounds have failed master!” Peepers wailed pathetically, hiding his face in expectation of some angry outburst. Nothing of the sort came, and Peepers continued, realizing that if he waited a moment longer, he would be punished. Severely. “The girl, she saved them! And now she speaks to them in the grove, yes yes!”
The interior went quiet as Gath began to contemplate. His four-foot tall servant, with sickly yellow skin and outrageously yellow eyes, stood trembling in the doorway. There was no breeze, nor did his simple burlap-esque jump suit fail to keep him warm. He shook from fear. Fear of what dwelled in the darkness before him.
“When the fool emerges from the dial, inform him I will no longer be so forgiving. If he fails to bring me their dead bodies, I will dispose of the girl!” Kath said with a swath of anger cutting through his voice.
“B...b…but master! The magic surrounding the girl…it protects her!” Peepers put forth.
“He does not know that you fool! Now leave me…I have something very important to attend to,” Gath demanded. Peepers replied stumbling from the hut in his normal manner. When he reached the edge of the trees and looked back, the hut was gone, replaced by mist and shadow.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully for the three adventurers. Hawkeye managed to capture some food not far from the clearing while Hank kept an eye on Scott. The youngest of the adventurers was busy swapping stories with Tandy, who seemed to greatly appreciate the interaction. Hank wondered how many people the young girl had seen since being cursed in the forest over three years ago. When Clint returned the two men, with relatively little difficulty, started a fire and prepared the meat. By the time the food was ready the sun was beginning to set.
“Whaddya got?” Clint asked. He and Hank had moved out of earshot of Scott and Tandy.
“I am afraid to say I see no other option than to confront Gath. There seems to be no other alternative method of escape from this cursed forest,” Hank said, disappointment evident.
“Ignoring the fact that this guy has a reputation that would make even your missing pal the doctor stop and think, how would we get to him? The girl said we can only get to him if he wants to be seen,” Hawkeye asked skeptically.
“I do not know…we would need Tyrone’s assistance in that matter. But if it is of some modicum amount of confidence to you, I have considered our strategy once we have exposed the evil Mr. Gath.” Hank paused.
“Oh?” Hawkeye indulged him after Hank failed to proceed.
“Tandy’s soul must be held some place during the hours that she can’t recall…between sunset and sunrise. Just as Tyrone’s soul is captive right now. Kulan must have some sort of artifact he’s using to hold them. If we can find that, I believe we may have the upper hand,” Hank explained.
“You mean, if we find some dusty old relic and free a broad with issues, we’ll be able to beat a pretty damn notorious dark wizard?” The sarcasm in Hawkeye’s voice only increased as he proceeded through his question.
“Basically,” Hank found himself stumped. Hawkeye was essentially right. “But I should explain the reasoning beyond my hypothesis. You see, I believe the backfired curse on Tandy has empowered her to a certain degree. I see no logic behind Gath keeping Tandy in the vicinity…”
“Unless he didn’t have a choice…” Clint began to follow Hank’s logic.
“Exactly. That was why the Hounds fled from Tandy’s flash of light. She is, in essence, the antithesis of her friend Tyrone. As he becomes consumed by darkness, she becomes one with the light. I believe that is what has kept Tyrone from becoming a wraith.”
“That’s some good thinking big boy. So, how do we ge-“
“Where is he?” Tandy’s voice rose frantically, cutting through Clint’s statement. He and Hank returned to the young woman’s side. Her formally serene blue eyes were filled with a panicked glimmer. Clint looked confused; Hank glanced to the horizon. The bottom portion of the sun had dipped out of sight.
“Where is Tyrone? You scared him off earlier, but he should be coming now! He’d come to protect me…” Tandy glanced about the clearing, looking desperately for her friend. Scott remained silent. She had been composed when he first met her, but Tandy’s mental state had grown progressively unstable as she was forced to recall her story for the three adventurers.
“Please Tandy…calm down. Don’t worry. Ty will be here soon. And then we’ll explain everything. And then we’ll go and set the two of you free,” Scott said, making several bold promises he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep. But it seemed to work. Tandy looked up and smiled slightly, taking in a deep breath.
But as the sun dipped further and further into the distant horizon, Scott’s hope sank further and further. Tammy maintained her resolve, but it was clear from her expression that she didn’t expect Tyrone to appear. Scott could see the moon starting to take a definite shape in the sky as the rays of sun continued to dwindle.
“Tandy…I’m sorry,” he said, kneeling beside her. Hank nodded his condolences as Clint looked on.
“Don’t be sorry. It was good to have someone to talk to…thank you Scott,” Tandy said, beginning to smile. Before she could finish the act a bright light emerged from her abdomen. When the brilliance vanished, so had the young woman from which it had originated.
“That is the happiest I have seen Tandy in a long time…even when she is with me,” a dark, familiar voice filled the glade. Hawkeye had his bow loaded at a moment’s notice, turning on a ball as Tyrone emerged behind the party. That cloak billowed eerily, despite the absence of any wind or breeze. This time the hood was drawn around his neck, and he stared out at the three men with haunting blank white slates for eyes. He was bald, and had a moderate brown hue to his skin. He looked sickly.
“Tyrone, we have a plan…we can help you break this curse and escape Gath’s grasp,” Hank was quick to try and explain.
“I’m sorry, but that can’t happen. Gath’s curse will not be abolished until it has run its course and I have become a demon. And I heard your plan from the shadows…I cannot allow you to put Tandy in danger…” Ty explained sadly. Without provocation the front of his cloak opened and peeled to the side, leaving a gaping abyss where his body should be. The cloak flew to the side, giving him a tremendous wingspan. The giant pool of shadow pulled the three men in without warning and without mercy. After only a few seconds, Scott, Hank, and Clint had all disappeared into Tyrone’s cloak, which resumed its normal position around his form. The cursed man paused for a moment, reflecting on what he had done before slowly sinking into the shadows as one would sink into a pool of quicksand.
"THE EVIL OF KULAN GATH"
The scene was eerily serene. The moon was just reaching the apex of its nighttime stroll and the sky was vacant of clouds. The temperature had dropped several degrees since the sun had vanished beneath the horizon. There was a brief clearing in the ghostly trees of the forest just beneath a grassy cliff, not taller than thirty feet. The overhang of the cliff created a small, shallow cave beneath it. The inward slope appeared to provide the perfect protection and shelter for a shack or hut underneath. Yet no such structure appeared in the indentation of the cliff. In fact, the entire area seemed to be covered in an unnatural fog; a heavy mist that seemed to never move. A pea soup that ended abruptly a short distance from the cliff. And this was how the forest sat.
The peace was broken, a few feet from the break in the tree line, when a small portion of the grass began to waver as if it were a puddle of water. The image of the ground began to vacillate before the top of a cloak hood emerged from the puddle of grass. The hood rose into the air, dragging a cloak and the body within along with it. Once his feet were settled firmly on the ground, Tyrone examined the surrounding area. Everything remained as it had been, much to his disappointment.
“Gath!” Tyrone yelled to area beneath the cliff. “I have done as you commanded! Now show me that Tandy is ok!” The clearing remained as it had been, much to his disappointment. The anger was visible on his face, which was illuminated by moonlight, cast down at an angle underneath his hood.
“Show me…their bodies…” an ethereal voice spoke at every direction around Tyrone.
Tyrone begrudgingly complied, pushing his cloak open to either side. The darkness seemed to swirl towards the center of where his chest would have been. Suddenly, violently, the garment vomited three bodies brutishly to the forest floor. Hank McCoy, Scott Summers, and Clint Barton all lay face down, motionless. The sides of Tyrone’s cloak seemed to whither shut as he bowed his head, examining the three bodies. Still as corpses. Seemingly satisfied with the results, a subtle wind swept through the area and carried the mist out with it. The diseased little hut was visible once more, and the door swung outwards with a vicious clap against the structure’s wall. Tyrone watched the entrance closely, remaining still as Peepers scampered out first, scurrying over to the three unconscious adventurers. He was still examining them, poking and prodding them, when his master emerged from the hut.
Kulan Gath was one of the most feared dark wizards that still roamed the lands. Rumors persisted that he had served under the Sinister Six over one hundred years ago, and that he was in fact immortal. The source of this immortality was unverified. Some believed it was the very death magic he practiced as a necromancer that sustained him all that time. Others thought it was a relic or artifact that kept him among the living. Regardless, Gath had survived the fall of the Sinister Six, and continued to be a thorn in the side of benevolent and peaceful societies across the land. Now here he stood, two steps removed from the shack he had been hiding in for the last three years. The necromancer was deathly thin, although it was difficult to determine this as his body was hidden from view by a shroud that was torn and tattered at the hangings of its sleeves. A collar of white hawk’s feathers, conjoined at the center by a glimmering azure colored pendant, obscured the neck of the garment. From this Gath’s pencil thin neck emerged, and upon it sat the necromancer’s shriveled head. The man had more wrinkles than a raisin that had been sitting in the sun too long. His skin was an infected looking light brown hue, and his beady eyes seemed like miniature daggers. A long, almost rectangular black hat obscured his scalp. Gath raised the arm of his shroud and pointed a shriveled, almost talon like hand at Tyrone.
“Worthless maggot!” he screeched. There had been an ominous quality when his voice had been amplified throughout the woods. Now his voice was akin to nails on a chalkboard, causing Tyrone to cringe slightly. Peepers gave pause to his investigation only momentarily. “You failed to kill these intruders when I commanded it! I should kill your friend for your insolence. How dare you!” the tirade continued.
“M…m…master?” Peepers looked up questioningly. Something didn’t seem right.
“Quiet Peepers! Your master is speaking!” Gath’s voice rose in volume as he shook his hand at Tyrone. “If you ever, ever disobey me again…” Kulan left his threat open ended, narrowing his gaze at the cursed man across the way from him before taking several more steps outward.
Peepers was trembling now, watching his master step the further from the hut than he ever had since Tandy and Tyrone had stumbled into his domain all those years ago. Fearing his master would catch him gawking, Peepers returned to examine Hank McCoy. He turned back towards the body only to find the professor’s merry face grinning at him.
“Boo.” Hank puffed. Peepers screamed and leapt surprisingly high into the air before Hank was on his feet and palmed the little man’s baldhead, then flinging him like a bocce ball towards Kulan Gath. The dark wizard was unable to react in time and felt the full impact of his servant against his midsection. The two of them stumbled backwards, and by the time Gath recovered he was staring face to face with a very determined and very much alive Clint Barton and Hank McCoy, with Tyrone flanking them ominously.
“Miserable maggot! You may have brought these vile men to my home, but you will be unable to protect them from their dark demise!” Gath screeched, thrusting his arms out to either side. A sphere of shadowed light surrounded his body even as the first of Clint’s arrows arrived. The shots bounced harmlessly off of the necromancer’s shield. The outer rims of the globe crackled with pitch-black electricity while the area within the barrier looked as if it were covered in shade. Hank tried his luck next, leaping forward and turning his body completely horizontal, hoping to break through the screen with his feet. He found the surface to be firm though, and was forced to somersault backwards. The old man simply cackled.
“You fools should have been content to wander this forest until the end of your days. Now you will perish by my hand and serve as sacrifices upon the altar of the Emissary!” Kulan Gath swung his right hand forward, pointing a disheveled index figure towards the party. Two short bolts of black lightening shot from his fingers. The first bounced harmlessly away from Hank, but the second hit Clint and seemed to submerge directly into his chest. Barton grasped with both hands at where the magic had landed; there were no marks, and he felt no worse for the wear. That was when his feet began to feel heavy and numb.
“Your resistance is admirable large one. Sadly, the same cannot be said for your friend!” a cackle ended Gath’s statement as he pointed towards Hawkeye. Hank followed the necromancer’s direction. A layer of what looked like cement had consumed Clint’s feet, and the gray line was creeping further and further up his body. The master archer was muttering curses, well aware of what was happening. But that didn’t prevent him from stringing up another arrow and taking aim at the one who had cursed him. But its fate was the same as its siblings, landing uselessly on the ground beside them, a victim of Gath’s defensive magic. He loaded what he expected would be another useless salvo as he lost feeling in everything below his waist.
“He’s been petrified…Tyrone, you have to help him!” Hank pleaded. If only he had been carrying a Soft potion on him. The concoction would reject the effects of Gath’s curse. Tyrone was unable to move though, and could only offer a depressed glance.
“The boy’s soul is mine…my dark power controls him, and he shall not lift a finger to aid you!” Gath gloated even as Hank came bounding forward again. The air resistance splashed against his body with increasing forth as he surged forward on all four appendages like a mad ape. Hank flipped forward off of his gargantuan hands, driving his feet against the shadowy barrier as hard as he could, sparks of darkness leaping frantically as he made contact. Again the shield held, forcing Hank to retreat behind Clint, who was completely petrified beneath his neck. His arms were frozen in place, an arrow strung and ready to fire.
“Don’t blow this big boy,” Hawkeye said, as if trying to ignore the fact that in a few moments he would become a living statue.
“Quiet, or I’ll leave you as a lawn ornament,” Hank grumbled, charging forward again. This time Gath retaliated, flicking his pointer finger at the oncoming attacker. Each motion was accompanied by a lightening strike of dark energy. Every attack exploded harmlessly against the ground as Hank continued forward, unrelenting. But with one teammate turned completely into cement and the other unable to act, how could they possibly defeat a legendary necromancer???
“Where is it!?” Scott bit his lip in urgency, fighting the urge to scream and curse. He had snuck into Kulan Gath’s cabin just as the battle had begun, but the inner chamber was poorly lit and reeked of rotting flesh. Furthermore, Scott had absolutely no idea what he was looking for. Hank had simply said to ‘retrieve Tandy’s soul’. What the hell did that mean? Scott was on the verge of tears. Every time he would glance out at the battle it appeared as if things were worse than the last time. Tyrone was standing still and Hawkeye looked like he had turned to stone. Certainly a fate Scott was hoping to avoid. But how could he do that if he didn’t know what he was looking for!
“Trespasser! The master will kill you!” a high-pitched voice shrieked from the entrance to the cabin. Scott spun on his heels, dagger in hand. Peepers stood a few feet inside of the doorway, pointing a stubby little finger towards Scott. But when those large, perpetually frightened eyes caught sight of the dagger’s blade, Peepers began to regret speaking out.
“Where is Tandy’s soul?!?” Scott demanded as he bounded behind Peeper’s, blocking the exit. The dagger was turned and lowered so that it was closer to the servant’s neck. There was a determined expression on the young boy’s face, even as he realized how odd he sounded with his demand.
“Don’t hurt Peepers!” the servant squealed, cowering in fear. His entire body quaked and trembled as he shielded the bald dome of his head with those child-sized hands. For a moment Scott almost felt bas for him. What if he had been cursed like Tandy and Tyrone?
“Just tell me where Tandy’s soul is!” Scott demanded. He moved the dagger closer to the small man’s throat, although he had no intentions of actually attacking. The capacity for harming a seemingly small, defenseless simpleton simply wasn’t there.
Peepers continued to tremble, although his pupils dilated ever so slightly. Stubby, clumsy hands dropped ever so slightly. The anxious rise and fall of his chest began to slow to a more normal pace. The cogs began to turn inside of his rudimentary mind. The situation could be turned to Peepers’ advantage. Yes, yes it could.
“Give it up you fool. You cannot evade my curses for ever,” Gath screamed as he released bolt after bolt of malicious magical energy. Time after time the volley missed its target as Hank bounded around the area surrounding the dark wizard. The ray of darkness would collide with the ground where Hank had been a split second earlier before fading harmlessly into the air. And each time Kulan Gath would grow more and more frustrated. But Hank could feel his limbs starting to tire, and he knew it was only a matter of time. That time wound up being shorter or later as Gath faked throwing a hex, goading Hank into the path of his actual curse. The thin column of black light intersected head-on with Hank’s sternum, causing the giant professor to fly hurtling back against the trunk of a nearby tree. The sound of the wood cracking was loud and painful, still ringing around the area as Hank slumped to the ground…
“H..h..here it is!” Peepers clamored over to a slanted shelf on the right side of the cabin. The rotted wooden sill was home to various dark vials and decayed skulls. A musty old book or two sat along the ledge as well. But Peepers reached not for one of these dusty volumes, but behind it, pulling out a small sundial between his pudgy digits. The artifact was terribly unassuming, no wider than a quarter and about an inch tall. Once the time telling device was firmly grasped Peepers scampered over to Scott, offering it up to the tall lanky teenager.
“This? This is it?” Scott asked, taking the sundial and examining it from every angle. How was it that something like the soul could possibly be trapped in such an insignificant stone object? The sundial sat uselessly in the palm of his head, looking utterly ordinary and useless. Peepers offered no reply, simply backing further into the cabin. No really bothering to think, Scott raised his hand with the artifact, high into the air. It wasn’t until he began its downward motion, spiking the sundial to the ground, that he even considered the fact that Peepers might have lured him into a trap. He had been that desperate; that careless.
Hank watched as Gath seemed to float over to the base of the tree he had fallen against. The world was spinning ever so slightly, and the world around him was just…surreal. Whatever curse the necromancer had cast, it had failed to provide its status ailment to Hank. But the sheer force of the magic had been enough to physically harm him; it was dreadful to think what the spell would have done to someone with no resistance to magic. It might have petrified the victim, like Clint, or worse. Hank took his eyes off Gath to examine the archer. He remained a life size statue, a horrible promise to the power that the dark wizard possessed. By the time Hank returned his attention to the immediate threat, Gath was practically on top of him.
“You…” the wizard leaned down and seethed, his voice slithering like a snake, “you shall serve as a message to Strange. The end is near for this world…the Emissary will herald their return….” Gath straightened his body out, giving a more imposing impression. A scraggly pointer finger rising into the air. Small sparks of darkened light leapt from the yellow, overgrown nail that served as a crown to the digit. Hank kept his eyes open, and was the first to see a pulsar of white light explode from the open to doorway to Gath’s hut. A warm luminance filled the entire forest, like a wave of purification, a wall of unblemished white that stretched all the way to the treetops. Hank couldn’t see it, but he could hear Gath scream. It was a scream of pain. Hank smiled.
As the light filled the small glen, Tyrone felt an odd sensation. As if there had been a mask stuck on his face and suddenly it had been removed. The shackles that had held him in place, forced to watch as these men fought his tormentor, were broken. It was a funny sensation, one he hadn’t felt in years. As if he could finally breathe the air around him to its fullest. A new consciousness that had been lost to him. He felt free. This liberation that enamored him was quickly forgotten when he saw the one and only thing that could have made things even better. Tandy, the light that kept the darkness from consuming him whole, was running towards him. At first Tyrone thought it to be a hoax; an illusion. But when she wrapped her arms around him, and he could feel his body once more…no longer was everything below his neck lost in darkness. It was at this moment that Tyrone was truly happy. Now not only was he free…but he felt human. And he smiled.
“Nooo!” Gath shrieked. He was not smiling. The spots that had clouded his vision were receding, and the vision that replaced them was most disturbing. He opened his palms wide and threw his arms out into the air. Bolts of darkness exploded in every which direction. Scott, who had just emerged from the cabin, dove to avoid one. He landed hard on his shoulder and crawled the rest of the way to Hank’s side, remaining low to avoid the scattershot fire that now surrounded the area. Hearing Gath shriek frantically and knowing that the tide was turning made Scott a little bit more optimistic. When he caught sight of Tandy and Tyrone embracing one another, he couldn’t help but smile as well.
“Ty…help their petrified friend. I’ll see to the other two,” Tandy said in a hushed tone. She paused for a moment, her eyes locked in an adoring gaze with Tyrone’s. She broke the embrace, reluctantly, before running to Hank and Scott. Tyrone remained frozen for a moment, his eyes watching Tandy every step of the way. A nearby tree bark splintered as one of Gath’s hexes landed, shaking Ty from his reverie. He stepped forward and reached out, watching a sense of fascination as his hand, unblemished by any shadow or shaded tint, reached out to touch the cold stone that was Clint’s shoulder. From that point of contact the color and texture began to return to the archer’s form, spreading gradually like the sunrise.
“How do you feel?” Tyrone asked.
“Stiff…and angry,” Clint said, gritting his teeth together and slowly moving his arms.
“Cure…” Tandy whispered softly, waving her hand over Hank’s sternum. The traces of fatigue that had begun to infest Professor McCoy faded almost instantly. He felt more refreshed than he had in a long time, almost leaping to his feet and knocking both Tandy and Scott backwards.
“None of you shall leave this forest alive!” Gath screamed. He threw his arm forward towards Tyrone. This was all HIS fault. A ball of blue flame shot from his open palm, sizzling through the air before catching the upper portion of Tyrone’s chest and exploding. The hit caused Tyrone to stagger back and clutch at his chest before the pain forced him to drop to one knee.
“Ty!” Tandy yelled, lost in her rage for a moment before snatching the dagger that still lingered in Scott’s grasp.
“It will do you no good Tandy! The barrier that encompasses the dark wizard will render your assault futile,” Hank shouted, trying to restrain her.
“We shall see about that,” the young woman said in a bloodthirsty tone. The blade of the dagger began to shimmer radiantly, giving off slim rays of white light in every direction. Soon the contours and the reflections of blade disappeared, consumed by a uniform, opaque white light. Gradually the bronzed hilt assumed similar characteristics, until only the outline of the dagger indicated what it actually was. Scott, who had originally thought to protest, remained silent, watching as Tandy flung the blade towards the necromancer. The boy’s jaw dropped slightly as a streak of pure white luminescence trailed the dagger, which was on a direct course for Kulan Gath’s heart. The dark wizard turned just in time to see the projectile, and moved his body out of the way. This, of course, was the most precaution he had taken to avoid below since the battle had begun. The dagger of light missed its mark, but hit something nearly as vital; Gath’s force field. The barrier of darkness seemed to give a death cry before shattering like glass and evaporating into the air, leaving a stunned Kulan Gath. A vulnerable Kulan Gath.
“No! I…” Gath began.
SHUNK.
Scott struggled not to gag. Hank bit his lip. Tandy moved to Tyrone’s side and looked on with a grim sense of silent satisfaction. Clint simply admired his handiwork. On one side of Kulan Gath’s neck was a blood-drenched arrowhead. On the opposite side was the tail of the arrow. In-between, firmly embedded in the dark wizard’s neck, was the shaft. Gath stood motionless, his eyes quivering as his quickly dried out mouth made an odd noise. As if he were grasping for something. The pendant around his neck dropped to the ground and bounced once before settling, jewel down. Its owner soon fell beside it. As if on cue, the small hut off to the side crumbled in a pile of dust and rubble.
“The barrier around the forest…it’s gone. I can feel it,” Tyrone said, placing a comforting arm around Tandy’s shoulder.
“So…that’s it?” Scott asked, remaining a step behind Hank, keeping his large friend between himself and the seemingly deceased wizard.
“It would certainly appear that way. Many of the curses around this forest should have been lifted with Gath’s demise…although one can never be sure with a Soul Curse. You should come with us to the Iron City…I might be able to find some assistance for you,” Hank directed this last statement to Tandy and Tyrone. Tandy had her arm around Tyrone’s cloaked waist and had pressed her head against his chest. She looked as if she would never let go.
“That’s generous of you Mr. McCoy, but we can’t go,” Tandy spoke up now, her voice warm and welcoming.
“Why’s that kid?” Clint spoke for the first time now. He was actually standing over the dead wizard’s body, nudging it with his toe. Everyone seemed to give pause to this. Except Clint of course.
“What Tandy is trying to say is that there are many who have lost their way in their forest throughout the years. We feel it’s our…obligation to search this forest. Besides…after all this time here, it almost feels like home,” Tyrone admitted.
“We’ll leave, in due time. Besides…I doubt Ty and I are ready to head back to civilization yet. We need time to…adjust, to what Kulan Gath has done to us,” Tandy said, managing to smile throughout.
“Fair ‘nough,” Clint replied before either Scott or Hank could voice their concerns. Hank remained silent, but Scott still appeared worried with the entire notion of leaving Tyrone and Tandy in the forest.
“Do not worry,” Tyrone said, almost laughing a bit as he caught Scott’s expression. “Tandy will ensure that I slip no further into the darkness. But I cannot express enough gratitude for what you have done. If there is anything we can do for you, please say so.”
“You kids just be safe…that’s all,” Clint said, a smile creeping onto his lips. Hank warmed up with Clint’s expression, and nodded in agreement. The two groups embraced and bid each other farewell before heading in separate directions. Tandy and Tyrone walked, hand in hand, deeper into the forest, which now seemed a little bit lighter than before. Hank, Clint, and Scott started off on a brisk pace towards the edge of the forest. Clint stopped abruptly though, almost causing a collision with Scott.
“What’s going on?” Scott asked. A sense of dread flooded into his chest. Clint had produced an arrow with a cylindrical head. He simply chuckled a bit at Scott’s concern, before slashing the head against a nearby rock. Much to his companion’s surprise, the cylinder was quickly consumed by flame. With a certain sense of urgency Clint loaded the fiery arrow into his bow and fired it back towards the clearing. The projectile found its target, setting the corpse of Kulan Gath up in flames. Once only ashes remained, Clint turned to Scott.
“Now…that’s it. Let’s get out of here guys,” Clint said, clapping Scott on the shoulder before resuming their initial course. The party of three walked towards the boundary of the forest, where the warm sun was rising to meet them.
All was quiet. Yes, yes it was. The intruders…and the cursed ones. All gone. No shadow man. No boy with dagger. And most importantly…no master. Only Peepers was left. Peepers was free! Free at last. The rubble and dust shifted and groaned above him as he emerged from the remains of Kulan Gath’s hut. He had hidden in the darkness during the battle, and had been watching through the debris. Waiting. And now everyone was gone. There was only Peepers now.
The small, sickly looking creature scurried out from the remained, shaking the dust of his meager rags. He stood completely still in the middle of the glen. Looking around. Observing? What would he do know? He was at a total loss when he noticed something shimmering next to the pile of ashes that had been his master. Bulging eyes managed to open even wider as he scampered like a pack rat to a new prize. Peepers quickly dropped to the ground and cradled the azure pendant that had been Kulan Gath’s inside his pudgy little hands. The jewel glimmered hauntingly, and Peepers couldn’t help but feel a little bit taller as he held his new trophy. For a brief, horrifying moment, he swore he heard his former master laughing. Cackling. Peepers ignored it and stuffed the jewel inside of his rags before scurrying off to see what the world held for him.
THE END
