Audiobook – Helpless

The moon was full, but it was completely hidden behind the ominous, dark clouds that covered the nighttime sky. As such, it did nothing to aid the small band of travelers as they slowly made their way along King’s Road – the dark, muddy track that wound its way northward from the squalid town of Ravenhill through miles of dense forest to their ultimate destination – Shadowfall. Along the way, the road would edge close to the mysterious, ancient Citadel at the forest’s eastern edge.
Shifting in his saddle, Garin Minori adjusted his cloak to better block the cold, biting wind that had blown steadily since they had left Ravenhill and entered the forest, and he thought back to the few townsfolk they had encountered earlier that day. A brooding, superstitious lot, they had repeatedly warned against traveling through the forest at night, and they had punctuated any mention of the Citadel with quickly muttered prayers. Sitting at the tavern’s rough-hewn table, Garin had put forth to his companions that they should take their chances with the unknown (and likely exaggerated) dangers lurking within the nighttime forest. This would allow them to avoid an almost certain daytime confrontation with the marauding packs of bandits who preyed on travelers within the forest with increasing frequency and violence. Bazil Wyze had expressed some concern over attempting to navigate the road through the forest in the dark, but they all understood the evil that would be unleashed if the ancient relic hidden within Garin’s pack were to be discovered before they could deliver it to Shadowfall. Garin and his companions had ridden out of Ravenhill through the ramshackle North Gate just after sundown.
Since entering the forest, the group had traveled in tense silence and near complete darkness – their feeble, flickering torches doing little to light their way. It hadn’t taken long for them to become accustomed to the steady thrum of the wind through the branches of the bare trees, but Gwendolyn Wolfchant – the only woman in the party – had cried out when a dead branch suddenly screeched in protest at losing its battle with the incessant wind and crashed to the ground somewhere just to their left. The mild ribbing she received – mostly from her twin brother Allister – lightened the mood for a few moments, but the tension and disquiet quickly returned under the ever-present press of the trees and the looming darkness.
At the bottom of a long hill, Bazil raised his right hand and silently brought the group to a halt. Ahead of them was a crossroad – a crossroad that appeared to be well-traveled but that did not exist on his map or any map he had seen. To their left, the unknown road made its way back into the trees, winding away westward to some unknown destination. To their right, the road appeared to lead eastward towards the Citadel, which could be made out as a hulking black shape in the distance, silhouetted against the dark gray of the clouds. Sirion Marku grumbled about demons and devils dwelling at crossroads. Gwendolyn looked briefly skyward and said a silent prayer while Allister shifted nervously in his saddle. Garin glanced left…then right… then impatiently nudged his horse forward, fully intent on continuing northward to Shadowfall. His horse snorted and hesitated, but a reassuring word – and a little extra pressure on the spurs – coaxed the animal forward.
Just as Garin’s horse reached the center of the intersection, the wind – which had blown steadily since they left Ravenhill – came to a complete and sudden stop. The silence that remained in the wind’s absence was nearly deafening. Garin quickly pulled back on the reins and brought his horse to a stop. He turned and looked back at his companions, but before anyone could speak a single word…