A terror none of them could see

On Demon Heights shall demons be.

Ferrian stared in trepidation at the steep path that wound up between the rocks. The morning sun laid a warm hand upon his back, but whether to comfort or give him a push towards doom, he wasn't sure.

I hope we're doing the right thing, he thought.

Footsteps crunched on the loose scree littering the base of the trail, and Captain Sirannor appeared quietly at Ferrian's side. Behind him, Grisket and Aari emerged from the scrubby trees.

Sirannor had been forced to hack a path for them through the dense undergrowth; there was no path from the main road and they had followed animal trails where they could, but it was tough going. It had taken them two days on foot: before leaving the road, Grisket had waved down a passing traveller and paid him to take their horses back to Forthwhite and relay a message to the Guard House about the situation at Merinriver Break. Now here they all stood, tired and scratched, the Commander grumbling and brushing twigs and leaves off his hat. Ferrian stared up at the formidable grey wall of the Barlakks, at a faint, crude path that had been hacked into the rocks who knew how many years ago. Above him, clouds drifted in a deep blue sky over the lofty peaks, like flying sheep.

"Worrying only makes the path ahead seem darker," Sirannor said softly.

Surprised, Ferrian glanced at the Captain. "Is that some kind of Freeroamer motto?" he asked.

The old man didn't reply, just stepped forward and started climbing into the boulders.

Wordlessly, Ferrian and the others followed.

They climbed steadily for the next four hours. The path was tortuously steep and overgrown, barely more civilised than the animal trails, in fact. It was clear that no one had been this way in a very long time. It was slow going, especially with the hot morning sun blazing down upon their black-coloured uniforms. At first the occasional gnarled tree provided scattered patches of shade, but the higher up they went, the thinner the vegetation became. Soon all they could see were ancient lichen-speckled boulders hugging the path on either side, with clumps of prickly alpine bushes hunkering in the crevices and the occasional patch of paper daisies bobbing in the cool breeze.

Sergeant Aari, being fortunate enough to possess wings, reached the summit well ahead of the others. Alighting on a rocky plateau at the top of the path, he looked out first at the breathtaking vista that dropped away behind them into the haze of the Arlen Plains, and then at the sparkling sight that lay before him.

A massive blue lake spread out just below him, filling a bowl between the arms of two gigantic rocky peaks. The sheer grey sides of the cliffs rose around the edges of the lake, and beyond them, still higher peaks soared to dizzying, snow-crusted heights into the crystal blue of the midday sky. Sunlight played on the surface of the water in dazzling sparkles, as though he were witnessing a secret dance between light and water, up here on this lonely mountain.

The breeze was cool and thin, ruffling his copper hair. It was a stunning scene, but despite the beauty, Aari could not help but feel that something was amiss.

Around him, the landscape was alive with light and wind and the soft rustling of plants, but otherwise, nothing stirred. No birds of prey wheeled above these peaks. No insects droned in the grasses or buzzed through the air. Gone were the tiny blue lizards which had scuttled over the rocks in their dozens down below.

There didn't seem to be any kind of animal life up here at all.

And the air felt... dry and … odd.

A strange chill passed through Aari; the breeze that brushed his hair and feathers had a dark taint to it, like an odious smell that bypassed his nostrils and went straight to his gut.

It was as though the mountains themselves were watching him, lying in wait. The huge peaks around him suddenly took on the shape of enormous claws.

The demon-wraiths, he remembered. They're here. Somewhere.

A little while later, the others struggled up the path behind him; Captain Sirannor in the lead, Ferrian following, and Commander Trice bringing up the rear. One by one they stopped and stared in wonderment as they waited for their breathing to return to normal, beholding the magnificent but eerie scene before them.

"Demon Heights," Sirannor announced softly as he stared out over the lake. There was a sad, distant look in his eyes.

“There's something weird about this place,” Ferrian said nervously. “It's giving me the creeps.”

Aari nodded, and said nothing. Sirannor walked forward to the edge of the rise and looked down.

Aari followed his gaze. A couple of small cairns led the way down the rocky slope, leading to a rough-hewn, pitch-black tunnel entrance, gouged into the soil below the surface of the lake like the burrow of some massive animal.

Staring at the tunnel, Aari shivered again.

Sirannor started forward without a word. Reluctantly, the others followed.

At the entrance to the tunnel, the Captain picked up a piece of deadwood and bound the end with a rag as the others crowded around, peering uncomfortably into the deep blackness. Moss clung thickly about the entrance, dripping.

"The tunnel runs for about a mile, as far as I can guess," the Captain told them in a lowered voice. "After that, a narrow cleft for about five hundred yards, with several twists and turns.

"When you emerge from the tunnel," he said softly to them all, "run. Run immediately. Do not look back or to the side or up or down, but straight ahead of you, and whatever happens, do not stop for anything."

They were silent, listening to the wind whispering gently across the empty heights, secretly fearing it was the voice of the demons beckoning to them. Captain Sirannor looked at the doubt and thinly disguised fear in all their faces – even Commander Trice's, and when he spoke next it was with the voice that had made him a Lieutenant in the Darorian Army. "We can outrun the demons," Sirannor said, his eyes as sharp and single-minded as a steel blade. "I outran them thirty years ago. I may be old and bitter now, but I will outrun them again. We all will." He held each of their gazes until they had nodded their consent.

Sirannor lit the torch with his knife and a matchstick from a little flat tin he kept in his pocket. When it had caught alight, he lifted it in his left hand and stepped into the tunnel. One by one, the others followed.

Aari, who was last, hesitated on the threshold. In the darkness before him, Ferrian turned. "What's wrong?"

"Ah… nothing,” Aari could feel his heart hammering at the sight of the cold, inky pool that had swallowed the others. He glanced at the sky, at the fluffy clouds drifting high and bright in the sun.

I could fly, he thought. There's no reason for me to enter this tunnel...

“Aari?”

The moss-strewn entrance was replaced in his mind by another tunnel, square-edged, far distant. And another friend, venturing ahead of him into the darkness, torch to light the way, just as Sirannor was now doing.

No. He took a deep, steadying breath. The others are going in. I will not run away again.

Not again.

Determined, he stepped forward into the shadows.

Aari tried to concentrate on the glimmer of Sirannor's torch, but his eyes kept wandering to the shadows flickering on the walls of the tunnel. The bright white circle of the entrance had gradually dwindled to a tiny hole, then finally disappeared altogether around a slight curve in the tunnel. Now the orange flame of the torch was the only source of light. Before them and behind them lay nothing but utter blackness.

Aari kept having to fight the urge to swallow. Not that he could swallow anyway; his throat felt as parched of moisture as the grey boulders outside in the faraway sun. His heartbeat had pounded ever harder since he had set foot in the tunnel, and a dark, heavy ingot of dread had settled in the pit of his stomach, becoming denser by the minute.

Strangely, it was not the thought of the waiting demon-wraiths that was evoking such apprehension. In fact, that fear had been all but crushed under the weight of the growing sense of terror emanating from the dark walls curving close around him.

The walls of the tunnel were made of hard-packed soil and stones, and appeared to have indeed been made by some kind of massive burrowing animal rather than Human hands. The tunnel did not run perfectly straight, but wove from side to side in a regular, undulating way.

For a short while, Aari managed to distract himself by wondering what kind of gigantic beast had passed through here, but the thought was not exactly reassuring.

A thin trickle of silt drifted down; shimmering dully in the torchlight, dislodged by the vibrations of their passing.

Aari stared up at the disturbingly low ceiling, trying unsuccessfully not to think about what lay above it.

Thousands of tons of water, a voice whispered to him morbidly. And nothing but dirt holding it all up…

He looked quickly away, feeling a sharp spike of panic stab into his chest. He tried closing his eyes, but that only made things worse; darkness engulfed him and he felt the hard, heavy walls slowly closing in around him, intent on crushing the air out of his lungs…

He opened his eyes with a jerk; his breath coming fast and ragged, but the walls had not moved.

Sweat beaded damply on his eyelids and the sides of his face, and he brushed it away with a trembling hand. Get a grip on yourself! he scolded himself angrily. It's just a tunnel! Just a path that happens to have solid walls around it! How do you expect to survive an encounter with soul-stealing demons when you can't even walk through a tunnel without falling to pieces?!

But the truth was, he would rather face the demons – rather face anything – than endure another moment of this terrible, stifling tunnel.

He had an overwhelming urge to be outside again, to stretch his wings wide, to feel the wind rippling through his feathers, to soar through the clear air with nothing above him but eternity, and nothing around him but sunlight...

He prayed that they did not have much further to go.

Ferrian walked in silence behind Grisket, his mind focused on the ominous task that lay ahead. He remembered the words Sirannor had told them just before they entered the tunnel: "When you emerge from the tunnel, run. Run immediately."

Ferrian swallowed and stared at Grisket's feather, bobbing dimly in the gloom before him. The memory of how Sirannor's team had perished in the pass was haunting his mind. "It was as if they entered you and stole away your very soul…"

Suppressing a shudder, he pushed the ghostly thoughts away, forcing himself to remain positive. Sirannor outran them; we can outrun them.

He repeated this sentence over and over to himself in his mind, like a mantra. Sirannor outran them; we can outrun them…

They had been walking for about ten minutes when Ferrian gradually became aware of a soft, strained noise behind him. It sounded like someone quietly struggling for breath.

Ferrian turned to look over his shoulder. Aari was lagging several paces back, almost out of reach of the torchlight.

Ferrian stopped, sensing something was wrong.

"Are you all right, Aari?" he asked, turning around fully. When the Angel did not reply, Ferrian frowned anxiously and walked back to him.

As he approached, he could see that Aari's face was pale and glittering with sweat, and he was visibly shaking. He also appeared to be having trouble breathing. "I'm... all right..." Aari panted. "Keep... walking…"

Further down the tunnel, Grisket and Sirannor paused and turned at the sound of their voices. Grisket walked back to them. "Sergeant," he said, a concerned look on his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" Aari insisted, but there was an unmistakable quaver in his voice. "I just need... some fresh air."

"You should have told us you were claustrophobic," Ferrian said.

Aari let what little breath he had out in exasperation. "I'm not claustro... phobic!"

Grisket put his hands on his hips. "Right. And I'm not Commander of the Freeroamers." He turned to Sirannor. "Captain, how far have we got to go?"

The Captain's eyes were cool stones amidst the shifting orange and black shadows. He glanced back into the darkness that shrouded their destination. "I cannot be certain of the exact distance," he replied in his usual calm, quiet voice. "Though I would estimate no more than three hundred yards."

Grisket nodded. Then he patted Aari reassuringly on the shoulder. "Hang in there, lad. If this is the worst you have to face today, consider yourself blessed."

They resumed walking. Ferrian continued at a slower pace, glancing over his shoulder often to make sure Aari was not falling behind. The winged man looked completely miserable.

Ferrian felt sorry for him. He was an Angel, after all. He was used to complete freedom. It must be terrifying for someone who had lived their entire life in the open air to be suddenly enclosed beneath the ground like this.

He could understand Aari's fear, but he did not share it, however. He had never had a problem with confined spaces. Or spiders, or heights, or any of those strange little things that people were normally afraid of. They all seemed so trivial compared to the Winter.

Ferrian stared gloomily at the shadows of his companions on the wall beside him: long and angular; constantly dancing to the silent tune of the torches' flame. Every tunnel eventually comes to an end, he thought. Spiders can be squashed. You can climb down from high places.

But the Winter was always there. Running from it was like trying to run from your own shadow: impossible. Wherever he went, whatever he did, the Winter was always there, following. Cold and silent and huge...

Ferrian was immersed in dark thoughts of snow and ice and white light, when he heard someone call out his name. He blinked and looked around.

Aari was standing a couple of paces back with a look of pale terror on his face. "Your... hand..." he said breathlessly, raising a trembling arm and pointing.

Ferrian lifted his hand and felt a wave of sickeningly familiar dread wash through him. There, once again, was the strange white light: the internal glow so fierce he could clearly see the skeleton of his hand. "Oh no..." he sighed. "Not a–”

This time it happened so suddenly he didn't even have time to finish the sentence. Brilliant white light exploded into the tunnel, almost blinding Aari. The light rapidly intensified, becoming so bright it was as though a shard of the sun had dropped upon them out of nowhere.

And then, just as before, it vanished.

Ferrian staggered against the wall. For several moments he could see nothing but a swarm of brightly coloured shapes swimming before his eyes.

Aari slowly removed his arm from his eyes and straightened, blinking. For a long moment there was silence as everyone waited for their night vision to return.

"Ferrian..." he heard Commander Trice say through the floating shapes. "I'm... all right..." Ferrian replied, though his voice came out smaller and weaker than he had intended. He was now shaking as hard as Sergeant Aari.

It was then they all noticed a slight tremor ripple through the floor and walls around them. Dust floated down from the ceiling and the pebbles on the floor rattled. Then that, too faded away.

"What was that?" Ferrian whispered after a moment. He noticed that the air on his face had become icy, and the tunnel around him was strewn with glittering white frost like a giant crystal cobweb. But there hadn't been a tremor last time, had there?

"Another effect of your magic, perhaps?" Sirannor said quietly.

"Well whatever it was, it didn't sound good," Commander Trice said, looking around darkly. "In my opinion, the sooner we get out of here the better: demons or no." He hitched his pack further up his shoulders and turned back to face Captain Sirannor. "Let's keep moving," he said.

Ferrian pushed himself away from the wall and was about to start after Commander Trice when he noticed Aari standing still as ice in the middle of the path. The Angel's shoulders were hunched and his eyes were wide, like an animal poised to flee. He was hardly daring to breathe.

"It's okay, Aari," Ferrian said, as much to reassure himself as the Angel. "It's over now. We don't have far to go."

Aari did not move or speak. He was frozen with terror. The tremor had pushed his already slipping resolve over the edge.

Ferrian looked back anxiously at the silhouettes of Grisket and Sirannor moving away down the tunnel. "You don't want to be left behind in the dark, do you?" he tried.

This statement had the desired effect: Aari's breath quickened and he took a shaky step forward.

Another tremor quivered along the tunnel: this one stronger than before. A clump of soil fell from the ceiling and bounced off one of Aari's wings. Further clumps detached themselves from the walls. Aari gave a small cry and grabbed Ferrian's shoulder, his fingers digging in like claws. Grisket and Sirannor halted in alarm. The four of them stood tensely and waited until the tremor had died away.

"We should keep moving," Sirannor said in the breathless pause that followed, and this time there was urgency in his voice.

They were more than willing to comply. Their muted footsteps were soft thumps on the packed dirt of the floor, all echoes were eaten hungrily by the thick, hard soil.

The second tremor had finally jerked Aari into action. He now hurried along behind Ferrian so closely that he kept stepping on Ferrian's heels. Ferrian could hear the Angel's rapid, shaky breathing in his ear, which was doing nothing to calm his own jolted nerves.

Ferrian could feel the beginnings of a huge, dark panic rising inside him. The tremors had only started after that explosion of magic. The magic must have dislodged something, or disturbed some kind of fragile balance...

He felt a trickle of sweat roll down the back of his neck, despite the chill that still lingered in the air. What if the tunnel collapses? he thought. And suddenly he remembered the enormous mass of water that was pressing down on the tunnel from above.

A wrenching horror gripped his chest.

In that moment, Ferrian knew exactly what it felt like to be claustrophobic.

Yet another tremor shook the tunnel, this time hard enough to make them stumble. Dirt rained down on their heads. Aari cried out again and Ferrian's breath froze in his lungs as he cringed in fear: but nothing more than dirt and stones fell down. His heart racing, Ferrian stumbled forwards once more.

"Is everyone all right?" he heard Commander Trice call from somewhere ahead.

"Y-yes," Ferrian called back hoarsely.

They hurried on. Aari's fingers were now curled into the sleeve of his tunic in a death grip. The Angel's breath was coming in jerky gasps. He was almost sobbing in terror.

They proceeded down the tunnel at a fast walk, though Ferrian broke into a jog every few steps in order to keep up with Grisket and Sirannor. For the next few minutes there were no more tremors. Ferrian kept his eyes on the darkness ahead, straining to see past the glare of Sirannor's torch.

We must be near the end by now, he thought desperately.

And then, at last, he caught a glimpse of something ahead. In fact, he had been staring at it for quite a while without realising what it was.

A tiny, faint grey patch floated amidst the inky blackness, slowly growing bigger and brighter as they drew near. A surge of adrenaline burned through his veins as he recognised it for what it was. The exit was in sight.

A sudden sharp hissing noise broke the silence of the tunnel and caused them all to jump.

Captain Sirannor whirled, whipping a sinister-looking sabre from beneath his long coat in a single, fluid movement before locating the source of the sound.

They all froze in horror.

A thin, clear stream of water was hanging from the ceiling like a silver thread. The sound had been caused when it hit Sirannor's torch.

They stood staring at the glittering water for long heartbeats as if spellbound. Ferrian managed to wrench his eyes away from the leak long enough to glance at the wall beside him. Dark patches were seeping down its side like blood.

"Run," Sirannor said simply, and he turned and sprinted down the tunnel.

No sooner had he spoken the word than a huge, heavy thump shook the tunnel from somewhere in the darkness behind them. Not even bothering to glance back, Grisket, Ferrian and Aari bolted after the Captain.

Clumps of dirt and stones scattered across the company's path as their footsteps pounded on the floor of the tunnel. Sirannor's sword flashed in the darkness and his torch flickered crazily as he ran, sending orange and black shadows skittering over the arching walls.

Aari raced behind Ferrian, his breath coming in strained gasps. There had been more heavy thumps following the first one, and now the tunnel shook steadily, the vibrations echoing up through the soles of his boots and quivering his bones.

The tremors and the crumbling walls were bad enough, but worse was the muffled rumbling noise: like the distant growl of a massive animal, which was becoming frighteningly louder with each thump of his overworked heart.

Aari struggled to keep up with Ferrian, but the distance between them was perceptibly lengthening.

In the air, he could outfly the wind, but Angels were not built for speed over solid ground, and he was tiring quickly. Already he could feel a stitch jabbing his side, but he ignored the pain.

He could feel tears of pure terror sliding coldly down his cheeks and neck, and a tiny, faint voice in the back of his mind was telling him he ought to be ashamed of himself, he was a Freeroamer... but the rest of his mind was so full of wild panic that he didn't care. He didn't even care if the demons killed him the minute he set foot in the pass: he just wanted so badly to be out of this hideous tunnel.

The exit had enlarged to a bright white circle now, and the sight of it drew an extra burst of speed from their straining legs. Nearly there, Aari thought. Just a few more yards; just a few more yards…

The rumbling behind him had increased to a dull roar. The skin on Aari's back prickled as he sensed something looming up behind him, but he dared not turn around. The pain in his side was now tearing through all the limbs in his body, but he gritted his teeth hard and forced himself to go on.

Through tear-streaked eyes, he could see the light of the outside world shining on the walls of the tunnel. Beyond the circle great walls of rock towered into the sky, grey and bright in the afternoon sun.

The roar had now become chillingly recognisable. It was the sound of water thundering through the tunnel.

Sirannor flew out of the tunnel and threw himself onto a ledge of rock by the side of the path. Seconds later, Grisket leapt into a cluster of boulders on the opposite side. Ferrian and Aari were still several paces back. Grisket leaned out into the path and urged them on.

Water splashed beneath Aari's boots. He clenched his fists and poured every ounce of strength he had left into his wailing legs. He could feel the water now, rushing up behind him, racing him, determined to snatch him up in its foamy fingers...

Ferrian raced out of the tunnel and scrambled into the boulders beside the path. Grisket caught his arm and hauled him up. On the other side of the path, Sirannor crouched forward on the edge of the rocky shelf, ready to catch Aari as soon as he emerged.

Breathing heavily, Ferrian leaned forward with Grisket and waited for Aari anxiously. "Come on, lad!" Grisket yelled. "You're nearly there!"

Aari's legs felt as though they were about to snap. Nearly there, he repeated in his mind. Nearly... there…

Sergeant Aari staggered out of the tunnel, feeling the hot sun on his face at last, and made a grab for Sirannor's outstretched hand…

He was too slow.

The massive wave of water that had been gaining momentum as it roared down the tunnel smashed into the Angel like a predator finally bringing down its prey, and in the next second there was nothing but churning brown foam as water spewed from the tunnel and rushed down the narrow cleft, sweeping away everything in its path.

"No!!!" Sirannor screamed, his voice ringing off the mountain rock, its echoes engulfed by the booming crash of the water.

Aari was gone.