Chapter ten; Peter's Journey, Confrontation
Skorm's armies were relentless and soon Peter and his protectors found themselves in full retreat. Scythe used his mighty weapon to force their own direct path through the woods while Garth watched their backs and struck down any Dark Beowolves who would pursue them. Even Peter found himself in the heat of battle, using his sword to strike down the occasional beast that made it through his protector's defenses. The night sky was filled with the sounds of clashing swords, bloodthirsty roars and a dark chilling laughter from a disembodied voice, taunting the fleeing men.
"There, through the threes, I can see the lake! That means we're almost there right," Peter asked.
"Indeed, the Guild is hidden in the trees on the other side of the lake. If we can make it there then the shelter of the Guild's walls will provide us ample fortification we can use to fend Skorm and his armies off," Garth assured them. The three stumbled through the trees into the clearing, finally a defendable position. One by one each of the surviving Dark Beowolves marched out of the trees as well forming an entire rank of them. There had to be at least forty of those bloodthirsty monsters standing there ready to rip their heads off. Peter stepped behind Scythe and Garth and checked on his baby who was once again crying because of all the commotion. They were cut off, Dark Beowolves surrounded them on three sides, and their backs were against the lake with no where left to go.
"It seems this battle is inevitable Peter," Garth spoke solemnly.
"Not a battle," A dark resonating voice rang in the three men's ears, "a massacre."
The air turned cold as an ominous black fog enveloped the entire area. Peter's blood felt like it had turned to ice as the dark presence hung over him. The black fog began to take form in front of the line of beasts, and when the fog was gone a tall dark hooded man stood in its place.
"…Skorm…" Scythe muttered angrily, "to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"
"My pets have proven themselves insufficient when it comes to slaying you me decrepit old friend," Skorm replied with his low crackly voice, "and so I've taken that responsibility as my own."
"Decrepit?! If I remember correctly you are about a few hundred years older than I am Skorm," Scythe barked back.
"Maybe so, but it is you who can barely lift his weapon, you who has grown old and bitter, and you who is looking for a replacement to carry on your eternal struggle, while I stand comfortably before my army on the verge of destroying the one thing that stands in my way of total domination," Skorm answered back confidently. Every word he spoke was like a long drag of nails on a chalkboard.
"Your quest for power is in vain Skorm, there will always be those who defy you," Garth chimed in, glancing at Michael and Peter, "I've seen that even those outside the Heroic bloodline will lay their lives on the line in order to protect the ones they love. Goodness like that creates a power so great that as long as it exists you will never rule this world."
"Don't speak in riddles fool," Skorm scoffed, lifting a boney finger and pointing to the baby in Peter's arms, "I know all about the latent demon powers that baby possesses, and once I am finished with you he will also be crushed by my hand."
At the end of Skorm's declaration the entire force of Dark Beowolves converged on the trio. Scythe grabbed Peter by his shirt and pulled him close, "swim across the lake and get to the Guild. There is nothing else you can do here. Go…GO!"
Peter wanted to stay and fight, but Scythe left him no other choice. Peter ran into the water while Garth and Scythe covered his retreat. One Dark Beowolf tried to lunge at Peter to cut him off, but Scythe jumped in front of the beast and took the hit himself, losing his golden armored shoulder piece in the process as it flew deep into the trees. Peter looked back one more time, trying to think of anything he could do to assist the Heroes, but the truth was the best thing he could do for them was to get away and survive. He strapped his son to his back with his shirt and swam through the lake for all he was worth, the only sounds he could hear were those of the battle going on behind him. The water felt like molasses, and every stroke was a labor that he had to push through with all his might. Every scream and cry of battle shot him in the heart just like the pain he felt when he ran from Westcliff and he knew that he'd seen his loving wife for the last time. Peter made it to the far shore of Bower Lake, and by that time the night had fallen silent once again. He unstrapped his son Michael from his back and made sure he was still okay, and he was, but when he peered across the lake to see what had happened to his valiant protectors all he could see was a vacant shore. Peter had no clue if Scythe and Garth had escaped or even defeated Skorm, it was as if they were never there.
"Hahahahahahahahahaha," there it was, that same horrifying laughter that has been haunting him the entire day. Peter noticed something floating across the water, but it was too dark to make out, that was until he realized that it was dark because the thing was pitch black by nature. It was the same black fog that has been pursuing him all day.
"Oh no…" Peter whispered. It seemed that Scythe and Garth had bought him all the time they could afford and Peter was on the run once again.