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further, and then continue on foot.
    Outside the front gate, Darien met no more resistance. There were no fortifications here, no enemies that would attack from this way. The forest, however, grew wild and thick. The dark woods were gnarled, twisted, overgrown and filled with horrid creatures, the product of centuries under the influence of the Master's foul enchantments. An army of orcs could scarcely serve as a better defense than the forest itself, and this fact was very much to the Executioner's advantage, for aside from those going to and from the castle, the road was mostly deserted. The Black Forest was old and overgrown, made of thick oaks, elms, and thorny locusts, gnarled and twisted by centuries of struggling against each other for every scrap of water and sunlight. The old trees wrapped over the road in most places, allowing little light through to the surface, and coloring the world beneath in putrid shades of brown and green. Vines clung to the trees, grasping and choking the smaller saplings, and reaching even to the canopy. Here and there the vines crept into the road, tendrils of the forest forever searching for sustenance, and devouring all that they found. The morning was still new, but under the tangled trees and clinging vines which hung from them, it was scarcely brighter than a moonlit night.
    Darkstar charged forward along the road. Behind him, Darien heard the sound of hoof beats. He coaxed the horse to the very edge of the road, and slowed his pace. He raised his sword again, waiting and watching. As he passed a gnarled oak tree, he swung the blade, cutting the thick trunk as easily as a blade of grass. The tree fell tumbling and crashing across the road. A handful of caltrops, thrown just beyond where the tree fell, completed the simple, but effective, trap. With luck, the pursuers would jump the tree and injure their horses. Darien then rode on, stopping twice more to set similar traps. After the last, he could distantly hear the sounds of chaotic stamping and whinnying on the road behind him. No doubt his traps had been sprung. Then he thought of one final trick to play. Even exhausted as he was, the Executioner somehow found the will to channel another shadow void. When he came to a narrow point in the road, he turned his horse, and hurled his magic into the dust of the road behind him. The earth shook and groaned and a great pit was opened, several yards wide and perhaps ten feet deep. Two small elm trees on either side of the road were pulled down, falling partly into the pit. He threw out the last of his caltrops, and rode on.
    Darien then pushed Darkstar to full speed again, hoping to gain distance as his pursuers were slowed by his traps. Once he could no longer here any sound of pursuit, he slowed the horse's pace to a trot. He took note of his surroundings. He had already covered several miles, but much more remained. The most difficult part would be the last leg. He would have to leave the road and cut across the forest, but that point was yet far away. Until then, there was nothing to do but ride on, vigilant for pursuers.
    The silence of the forest disturbed his restless mind. The quiet was not unusual, but he had never paid much attention to it. Now, that silence oppressed him, as if the forest itself were waiting for him to lower his guard, waiting for the proper moment to strike. He had ridden this road many times, on missions for the Master, each time with a clear purpose in mind, many times in the command of an army. Now he was a fugitive, fleeing with no certain purpose in mind. He turned every so often, expecting each moment to see one of the Master’s assassins behind him, but each time, there was nothing.
    After several hours, Darien began to feel Darkstar slowing beneath him. The horse had ridden to exhaustion, as its training demanded. If he continued to push the beast, it would certainly die. At another time, he might have pushed the horse as far as it would go, urging it to