Dawn of Darkness

Chapter 1

{I wrote this first part of the book, along with the next two chapters of it for the NaNoWriMo competition in which I entered. I hope you all like it as much as I do!}
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Theron knelt at the side of a track, taking in the sight of hoof prints with a skilled eye, his bow strapped to his back beside his quiver. From what he was able to deduce, the animal which had made these tracks was only half an hour or so ahead of his current location, and was in no hurry. He was tracking a lone deer, which had strayed from the herd a short while back. Devil knows why it had done so; it had left itself open to all the other predators in the woods. But if Theron was able to catch this one before any other creature did, he would surely be commended back at his village.
The sky was a clear blue, with a stirring wind, which ruffled the silken strands of blonde hair on Theron's head. Tree branches above Theron's head rustled in the wind, leaves brushing together in a universal sound, just like they always did.
A small stream ran to the young male's right, bubbling up against small stones in its bed. Seeing the stream had made Theron quite thirsty, having been hunting this deer for a few hours now, so he moved to the edge of the stream and sat cross-legged, making sure the tracks were still in sight. He would be able to find them again if he lost them, but he didn't like taking that risk.
He cupped his hands and dipped them into the clear water of the stream, sighing in content at the coolness of the liquid. Raising his water-filled hands to his lips, he slowly drank the water. The water ran down his throat like the river, quenching the thirst that had been gnawing at him since the start of the day. It felt good to be hydrated again, even if it was minutely, and the hydration was what he needed to continue his hunt.
He lowered his hands from his mouth and placed them in his lap, looking into the crystal clear water. His reflection looked back at him, with the same expression of interest as he had whenever he looked at his mirror image. The reflection looked back at him with the same brown eyes that he had, the same blonde hair that he had, as well as the same angular face that he bore.
Theron tilted his face to the side a little, observing the side of his face. He raised his hand and brushed his ear, which separated himself, and those he lived with, from the rest of the people of Arlais. Rather than having the curved ears of the humans, he instead had tips to his ears, marking his elven descent, hence the expert skills in hunting.
His hand moved from his tipped ear, towards the bare area above his right eye. In Elven tradition, when a child had grown to adulthood, they would be granted with an ink mark to show they were no child anymore. It was a mark that allowed them the privileges and acknowledgement of an elf, rather than a mere child. It was a highly honourable action, and involved a large ceremony to celebrate the transition of child to adult; a ceremony that Theron was going to have in his honour tonight.
He traced a small pattern above his eye, which created a rectangular shape which splits into two, thicker on the bottom and thinner on the top. He traced two other shapes shape below his eye, resembling the minimalistic look of leaves that ended in separate points in line with his nose. That was the mark that Theron planned to have inked on his skin. He chose it as it was simple and held meaning to him. His father, who had died years before, had the same mark on him, and Theron wanted to honour his father with such mark.
"Tonight," he spoke to himself softly. "Tonight will be the night I truly become an elf."
After having been by the small stream for a short while, Theron decided he would need to move off, so that he was able to catch this deer he was hunting. Before he got up, he reached for the small water flask by his side, which was empty, and pulled the strap over his head. He dipped the flask into water, allowing it to fill, before pulling the strap back over his body to where the flask sat where it had before.
He left the stream swiftly, picking up the tracks of the deer again and following them. They were easy for Theron to follow, with crushed blades of grass and hoof prints in the dirt to lead the way. After a short while, the tracks became more haphazard, showing that the deer had been disturbed and was running swiftly. There was also another, much larger, track intertwining with the deer tracks. No doubt that it was a bear's tracks, running after the deer.
Theron sighed. Now there was another beast in the hunt for this deer. But there was a positive to the bear joining the hunt; its tracks were fresh, ten minutes at the most. If Theron pressed on quicker, he may be able to catch the deer and the bear together. Bringing home the deer and pelt of a bear would surely bring him a good image in the area of hunting.
Theron continued to follow the tracks in silence, hoping that he would reach the two animals soon, or else the deer was out of the question, taken to its death by the 'bear'. As he walked, he heard a twig snapped somewhere to his left, stopping him dead where he was. He strained his ears for another sound to occur, hoping that he would be able to track its location.
Another twig snapped, with the sound coming from Theron's right this time.
He spun his head quickly to the right, hoping to catch a glimpse of the creature that caused the sound. There weren't many animals out in these woods that travelled in packs of two or more, that would also sound like they were aiming to destroy every branch and stick on the ground. Theron pondered over what would be the source of the sound, not wanting to find out if it was after him.
Another two twigs snapped, from both directions, sounding closer this time. Theron's guard went up immediately, taking the bow from where it sat on his back, and knocking it with an arrow. He held the arrow in position, ready to fire at any moment's notice. Now he was really worried as to what was around him.
He heard a whistling sound come towards him from his left, causing him to duck quickly. He heard a dull thud and turned to see a crudely made arrow shaft stuck in a tree. He leaped up and drew his bow, quickly letting the arrow fly in the direction the other arrow came from. He heard a gurgling sound and knew his arrow had met its target.
Another arrow flew towards him, from the right this time. He stepped out of the direction of that arrow, nocked another of his arrows and let it fly as well, hearing a grunt and the drop of the enemy's weapon. Theron smiled at the sound, believing he had killed his stalkers, but that wasn't so.
There was a large growl coming from the direction Theron had loosed his second arrow towards, as well as the sounds of cracking of sticks and the crunches of deadfall on the ground. Theron's breath quickened and his heart started to beat faster, afraid of what was coming his way. He quickly placed the bow on his back again, pulling out his daggers from the double scabbard he had at his waist.
The creature rammed through the copse of trees in a rage, a crude blade in hand, and headed straight for Theron. The creature raised its blade above its head and brought the blade down in an arc towards Theron. He raised his daggers up defensively, feeling the weight of the other's blade hit the thin metal of his own.
He looked up at the creature that was trying to kill him, and took in all of what it looked like. It was a grotesque creature, with dark, stained skin and a face that was laced with both large and small scars. It had a bashed in nose and two large canine teeth, protruding from its foul mouth. But its eyes were the scary part. They were dark and piercing, filled with madness and insanity, giving Theron a murderous look of content. It was planning to kill Theron, or die trying.
Theron had only heard of such a creature, made from animated darkness which obtained a living form, in myths and old lore tales. Though the tales told of fearsome creatures made of corruption and darkness, it had not shed light on their strength or insanity.
The creature Theron was fighting was one of many, known as the Husk, and the last time they had been seen in the land was hundreds of years ago, in the time of the Darkening. They were said to be eradicated from the land completely, banished permanently to the fiery pits of Hell, but it was clear that was not the case.
Theron could feel the Husk's strength overpowering his, and if he was to stay like this for any longer, he would surely die. In an attempt to save himself, he spun on his heel, diverting the Husk's blade off to the side, and swept his leg out.
The effect was what Theron had expected. His sweep had kicked out the Husk's footing, and it fell back onto the ground, fumbling around furiously. Seeing the enemy in its current state, Theron took the opportunity that was given to him, and ran.
Theron ran through the woods, with the wind batting at his face violently, trying his best to gain distance between himself and the stunned Husk behind him. It wasn't long before the grotesque beast gained his footing again and came blundering after him, so he had to make the most of what little time he had gained.
The daggers he used to fend off the hefty blows that the Husk had used against him were still in his hands, reflecting the light of the midday sun into his eyes. He eyed his scabbard on his side, and tossed up the thought of placing the small swords back in the place they belong. But doing so would end in him having to stop. In the end, Theron's thoughts won him over, and he stopped to place the daggers back into his scabbard.
It was in that time that he heard the blood-chilling roar of the Husk behind him, coming louder as the monster approached. Theron looked around worriedly, not knowing how long he had to get back on his way. As soon as he had the daggers back where they belonged, he was on the run again.
His heart pounded in his chest, harder than it ever had before, as he ran ahead of the Husk. It slowly closed the distance between them, Theron knowing this from the volume of the raspy and raggety breathes. In a matter of minutes, if Theron looked over his shoulder, he would see the Husk in the trees, running its way towards him. It only urged Theron to find a way to lose his pursuer.
After what felt like hours of running, Theron thought of where he was actually running. He couldn't run back to the village in which he lived, it would cause mayhem and violence. He could only keep it in the forest, where there was the smallest chance where one of his elven comrades would see him with it. But if he kept it within the forest, hot on his own heels, how could he kill it without being killed first?
Suddenly, Theron remembered a small conversation in which he overheard back at the village that morning. The village had a small party of experienced hunters, who left early every morning and returned just before dusk hit, with meat and pelts towed behind them. They left the village early this morning as well, heading off in the direction the Cloud Tops, a Mountain range standing high in the sky to the East. From where Theron was, he could see the Cloud Tops and he thought of running towards them, in hopes of intercepting the hunting party.
It was his only option, but getting to the Cloud Tops would take him a large portion of the remaining day. It was either continue running wildly around the forest with the Husk slowly gaining on him, or attempt to reach the Cloud Tops with hopes that the hunting party would be there. Theron was leaning towards the latter, which is what he did.
Theron stopped in a small clearing to quickly gather his bearings and find the Cloud Tops. He saw them to his right, stretching his into the sky, with the clouds shrouding their peaks. They were a fair distance away, several kilometres at least, with the densest part of the forest in his way. There was no way he would be able to effectively run through such dense forest. The only way to get through this area of the forest would be to use the trees as another platform to run on.
The trees! That was how Theron was going to survive. He would be able to jump up above the tree and run through the interwoven branches, granting him a chance to fight back.
He ran up towards the trunk of the nearest tree, a sturdy oak, and lunged up towards the lowest branch. It held underneath his small weight, which allowed Theron the chance to pull himself up and pull his bow from his back. He heard another roar from the Husk, it was almost upon him, and he readied himself, pulling an arrow from his quiver and nocking it to his bow.
He found he only had this one arrow; the rest must have fallen out as he ran, and he placed his complete trust in his skills. He brought the bow up; pointing the arrow in the direction the thunderous roar was originating, and drew the bowstring. It was only one shot, and if he didn't get this, then he would run. He breathed slowly and prepared himself for what was to come.