Chapter twelve; Peter's Journey, Futility

Michael hadn't stopped crying since the battle had begun that morning and now his voice was raspy and raw which only made him more upset. Peter ran through the woods like a man possessed, fleeing the morbid scene he had been forced to leave behind. Garth was dead, Scythe was dead, and if Peter didn't run quickly enough he too would surely die along with his son. Garth had assured him that the Guild was just through the trees at the other end of the lake, but Peter had seen no signs of civilization since he landed on the shore. Thoughts of anxiety rushed through his head, had he swum to the wrong shore, could Garth's directions have been false, and how close was Skorm from extinguishing his life once and for all?

Peter was truly exhausted, he had never before run this long or swam that hard in his entire life and surely never with a baby strapped to his chest. His arms and legs felt like lead weights, barely able to lift them at all. The fatigue of his quest had finally caught up to him. When Peter could run no more he collapsed on the ground in a heap, gasping for breath. He could see the deadly black fog surrounding him and he knew it was over, he had been trapped. Peter was no longer confused, no longer afraid at least for himself, instead he was angry. Angry that he had worked so hard for nothing. Angry that all his sacrifices and prayers had been in vain. All he wanted was for his son's life to be better than his own, and instead he had simply brought his to a different end.

Peter now only had one thing on his mind, if he was going to die now then he had to know why.

"What do you want from me?" he shouted to his predator.

"What indeed," the deep voice replied, seemingly coming from everywhere, "you are just a simple man with a baby and yet I pursue you. So I offer you this query, how does a pathetic feeble man such as yourself find yourself in the company of the two formerly greatest Heroes alive?"

The question alone angered Peter, and he responded with according spite, "Luck I suppose."

"And what luck you have," the fog began to take shape, forming the eerie and menacing hooded man who had been behind all of the miseries in his quest to save his son, "you were lucky enough to become the last one slaughtered at my hands before I wreak my vengeance on the Hero's Guild," Skorm explained and he raised his wretched sword above his head, "now I'd tell you to say goodbye, but it appears you have no one left to say it to."

"Goodbye,"

Just as Skorm swung his blade to strike Peter down, lightning shot out from the trees and struck the demonic sword. For the first time in this whole adventure, Peter saw Skorm in pain. He looked up at his malicious pursuer burning as the night sky lit up with the energies exploding all around them. Peter drew his blade at last, scooting backwards along the ground to get any kind of distance between himself and the demon. Skorm fell on one knee, using his sword to keep himself up.

"Who dares," the furious specter exclaimed.

"The Hero's Guild dares," a long voice shouted from the trees.

Skorm looked around, searching for the source of the voice. At first there was no one to be seen, but soon enough a rather large young man stepped out into plain sight standing on a branch. A second Hero steps out from a bush, this one a lovely young woman. A third emerges and he appears to be a battle-hardened veteran by his numerous scars. Dozens more appeared after that seemingly from everywhere, but none of them spoke a word, they simply loomed over Skorm and put the fear of God into the dark one. At last the final man stepped out into the clearing, a rather old man with white and blue robes and fine white hair. The old man seemed to be the leader by the look of respect his peers exuded. He strolled slowly over to Peter and laid a hand on his shoulder, helping him to his feet.

Peter was confused, but more so relieved as it seemed he had finally found the Hero's Guild, or rather it had found him. Peter snapped back into reality and unstrapped his crying infant son from his chest and handed him to the old man, "this is my son Michael," he said, "he is a Hero like yourselves, I've come from Westcliff so that he may live here safe from persecution with you."

The old man accepted the child with a gentle smile and nodded, "you are a brave man, and a loving father. Your son will be safe with us," he replied in the same voice that Peter heard right before the lightning struck. Could this old man be the one who stopped Skorm in his tracks?

"No one will be safe! You will all die here and now, starting with you, you feeble old man," Skorm barked wrathfully standing back up to his feet and pointing his now glowing evil blade at Peter and his savior. As soon as he did the forest lit up with various energies as Heroes charged a mixture of spells and threatening to unleash their powers upon the dark one.

"You have failed demon, in your present state you have no hope of surviving our next attack. Leave now and you will be spared, but should you decline we will punish you for all your evil deeds here and now," the old man decreed, giving Skorm one last chance to escape. There was an uncomfortable, long silence as Skorm failed to react at all to the threat, his black pit-like eyes just stared at the old man, peering into his soul.

"I…am…Skorm," the demon answered, "I live on a plain of existence higher than anything you fools could possibly comprehend. I am a God!"

The army of Heroes prepared there spells, all ready to unleash them on a moment's notice.

"You may fell me this day, but I will take you with me, and when I return you will not be here to protect your precious Heroes, and I will eviscerate every living being of this world before I send it to the abyss," Skorm continued dreadfully," and it all begins with you," before the demon's words could truly sink in he unleashed a blast of pitch black fire, and a split second after every Hero surrounding him attacked with all their strength. A mighty explosion blinded the Heroes momentarily, and for a moment the wondered if they had been over zealous, but when the dust settled and the light died down there was a crater where Skorm once stood, only his sword was left behind and soon enough it faded away as well.

The Heroes were so proud of their accomplishment that they celebrated in the woods, though each one of them knew one day Skorm would return as he swore, but tonight his reign of terror was at an end.

Suddenly, the celebration ended as Skorm's last words rang true. One of them had fallen, and he lay on the ground with a massive burn on his chest. Peter was dead. He had thrown himself in front of the dark fire in an attempt to rescue his son and the old man from Skorm's final attack. The Heroes looked upon the fallen stranger as Michael cried, and the scarred veteran among the approached the old man and he asked, "Who was that man?"

"A Hero."