In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  The Power Of A Lineage

  Silence.

  Since leaving Sharia, Grahamas had heard nothing aside from pounding hooves and idle chatter. They had worked their way across the plains, away from the Elven kingdom, and still there was silence.

  The footprints were easy to follow, yet with the high valleys and winding roads, it was nearly impossible to see too far ahead, making a sneak attack difficult if Graham was depending only on his eyes. But he was using his ears, stopping before he rode over one of the many hills to listen, and when he heard nothing he would continue on to the next in the same fashion. Grahamas had pursued in the same manner since they had found the footprints; all with no results.

  “Is it possible that they’ve made it already?” Elryia asked as she synced up alongside Grahamas. The Champion turned his head up, listening for a moment before turning to Elryia, “Not likely. Roane would be another two days for us riding like we are. On foot, it would be twice that.”

  “So we’ve still got time?”

  “Plenty. Though let’s not allow that to slow us down,” Graham said and tossed a wink her way, causing her to blush, grin and giggle.

  When Graham leapt back onto his horse she waited until he was situated before trotting up next to him as they rode over the hill, “Do you think Lanyan is going to be safe?”

  He thought for a moment and then nodded assuredly, “If he’s everything you’ve said, then he will be fine. He has a good group with him as well, I’m not worried.”

  “You’re right. He’s more than capable.” Elryia shifted her glance forward, a slight smile brightening her face before she turned back to him, “He’s incredibly noble and driven. I’m glad to have him. Plus, he rarely misses with that bow.”

  “I would believe that, all of it.”

  “Perhaps when everything is over, you’ll get to know him better. All of them…except Gort,” Elryia’s wink prompted a laugh from him. Elryia’s eyes went slightly wider in surprise, rarely having heard him do that. Then her face soured slightly, “And make sure you don’t ask Gnert anything if you’re in a hurry,”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, still chuckling, “How about Jeralyle? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Nothing. He’s very pleasant, polite…helpful. He’s a young mage though, so he’s very quiet and soft-spoken, taking in everything around him. Unless he wants to know something, he rarely says anything. He reminds me a bit of myself when I was that age.”

  “Perhaps my impression of him was wrong, and he showed only curiosity earlier.” Graham’s face quirked. “I remember you used to ask me so much about the world.”

  Elyria turned to look at him, “You showed me so much of it.”

  Grahamas’ eyes softened as the chuckle turned into a gentle smile. They both stared at each other for a moment, their horses moving closer; Grahamas blinked and looked away, El following the same motion. But their eyes met once more as their horses pulled closer yet again. She watched, as did Graham, and he moved to her quickly, luring her to him. Paying no attention to the surroundings now, she closed her eyes and pursed her lips. This was the moment she had been waiting for and it seemed as though the world and everything in it was going to stop.

  And then she stopped. Abruptly. So hard that it almost tumbled her right off of her horse. Worried that she had struck something, her eyes bolted up to see Grahamas reaching across her horse, holding its reigns; his head turned towards the sky, gaze sharp. Realizing what had happened, Elryia straightened up immediately, hoping that he had not noticed her face or her reaction. Comprehending the reason he leaned, she blushed and concentrated on the task at hand. “What is it? What do you hear?” she blurted out, scrambling to cover her tracks.

  Graham inched closer, his mouth to her ear as he whispered, his gaze locked on the hill, “Footsteps…close.”

  Elryia tried her best to pay attention to what he said, but failed miserably. She only closed her eyes and leaned closer, letting out a sigh that she hoped he would not hear.

  “Graham!” Sam’s harsh voice forced them both to pull back quickly and look away, “Are they over there?” he asked, closing the gap.

  “Aye.” Graham replied and slid off his Feiron.

  “Can you tell how many?”

  “Nay, but I’m going to find out,” he muttered as he crept up the hill, far enough to peer over. It was the only option that he had, the land was barren and desolate, few trees could be found this far from Sharia and not a one was large enough or close enough to provide him any reasonable cover. He eased slowly, until his eyes were barely over the slope, easing them back and forth, then sliding back down the way he came. His face showed obvious consideration as he reached up to scratch his jaw.

  “How many?” Sam asked.

  “Ten soldiers. Five in front of Rhimaldez, five behind with Drogan leading the way.”

  “That is better than we hoped,” Sam insisted, as Grahamas seemed to show concern. Ten total was an easy enough task, especially for the three of them. Even with Drogan, the soldiers would not be too big of a problem. That, however, was not what worried Grahamas.

  Twice now he had faced Kalinies, and both times Kalinies had gotten the drop on him. The first time Samsun had pulled them out of danger, the second time he had been thrown to safety. Both were luck, but Graham knew dealing with a wizard of that power and cunning that eventually his luck would run out. Kalinies hid, he stayed in the shadows; most wizards did. Remaining idle and out of view, casting their spells in safety as they watched the events around them. Then, when they were finished, they would reveal themselves to unleash whatever they had concocted. Graham stressed because he did not see Kalinies, yet knew he was there. “El,” he started, holding his arms up to help her down. With her hands on his shoulders, she slid off the horse and began looking in the same direction as he. “I don’t see Kalinies with them,” her eyes hardened at just the mention of his name. “I trust he is not far off, keep sharp and stay behind us.” She bowed her head in acceptance, her face growing stern.

  Sam turned his eyes towards Graham with a questioning look across his face, “And us?”

  Grahamas allowed a grin, “Five by five.”

  Samsun, too, wore a smile as he tugged his axe from his back. “How far?”

  “Ten, maybe fifteen feet.”

  “And ye have a plan?”

  “Aye. We stay quiet.” Graham said as he crept up the hill, motioning the others to follow, though he didn’t get too far before he scanned again. “There’s another hill in front of them. The moment they’re over it we’ll rush in and attack when they reach the bottom.” He turned to see Samsun nod in acceptance. “El, think you can silence the soldiers before they make it over?”

  Elryia grinned deviously, bowing her head in concentration. Her hand raised, palm towards the soldiers with a faint light emanating from it. El chanted, growing louder with every word. In less than a minute, the light emitting from her palm pulsed, “Done.”

  “Thank you. Let’s just hope that they don’t try to talk to each other.”

  The Champion watched as the soldiers marched on. The leader in front gripped chains that drew behind him, shackled to Rhimaldez’s wrists. At the Captain’s back, one soldier held the chains linked to the metal collar about his neck. The last thing Grahamas noticed before they made their way over the hill was the Captain’s face. His eyes were shut and he seemed at peace, as though he was meditating. One of the soldiers on the back row turned, making one last scan of the area before they disappeared over the other side.

  “Move!” Graham quipped as he darted up the slope, then down, dashing across the twenty feet of flatland that separated the two hills. He reached the bottom of the second by the time Elryia was halfway down the first, Samsun was barely to the top. “He really is fast…” Elryia remarked to Sam as they both chased after him.

  Grahamas took two gliding steps to lead him up, and then cast his glance down. The back row was two feet away from the
bottom, exactly where he expected. The soldier controlling Rhimaldez was directly in front of him. To his right a blonde guard, to his left one with black hair. On the outer edge two more, one with a beard the other holding the empire’s flag—an emblem of a silver snake twisting about a spiked, decorated crown.

  He leapt, landing directly behind the guard holding the chains. Both soldiers on either side of him turned to look and Graham, in one swift motion, tugged his sword out with his right, long dagger with his left and reached out with both in hand, sticking his dagger into the stomach of the blonde guard, his sword into the chest of the black. His grip released from each blade, leaving them embedded for the moment as he reached up to the guard holding Rhimaldez’s chain. He wrapped one hand around his chin, the other placed on his shoulder as he twisted until the guard’s neck snapped and he fell to the ground. Grahamas spread his arms again and yanked both of his blades out before the other soldiers collapsed completely.

  The two on the outer edge spun as the other three fell, trying to alert the soldiers in front but found that they had no voices to do so. And that was all they had time to do. Grahamas crossed his right arm over his chest and stretched, aiming his sword at the bearded guard. He dug it into his ribcage, his left hand juggling his dagger until he caught the tip of the blade. Keeping his right hand on his sword, he spun his left shoulder in until his back was to Rhimaldez, his left arm extending and the dagger spun through the air until it landed in the flagged soldier’s chest.

  By that time, Sam had made his way down the hill and Rhimaldez snapped out of his meditation. The front guards still had not been alerted as Grahamas pushed around the Captain’s left side, Samsun to the right. Elryia remained behind them, keeping her eyes alert. Rhimaldez, seeing their advance, tugged hard on the chains bound to his wrists, yanking their owner into his grip. Unknowing of Elryia’s silence spell, he pressed his furry hand over the soldier’s mouth, squeezing until the guard fell. Samsun continued around, then dropped his shoulder down, driving it into the spine of the guard on the outer edge. The soldier tumbled forward, prompting the guard to his left to look back—seeing only Sam’s left fist hooking into his face. With a man of Samsun’s size, that was all it took to render the soldier unconscious.

  Being so far ahead, Drogan hadn’t noticed the situation. The soldiers on the left, realizing they were speechless, began running towards him as a warning. Rhimaldez—chain still in hand—used his incredible strength to lash it out like a whip and wrap it around the right ankle of the soldier. With a hard yank, the guard fell face first into the ground, a victim of his own momentum.

  The other soldier did not fare any better, thinking he could out run him and make it to Drogan. He had taken only one step before Grahamas latched onto his tunic and tugged. The soldier’s back hit the dirt and Graham turned his blade down, plunging it into his chest. The crash of the fallen soldier’s metal breast plate was loud enough for anyone to hear and Grahamas placed his eyes on Drogan. Yet the Minotaur still had not turned his massive frame to face the massacre.

  The Champion caught something moving behind him. Thinking at first that it was Rhimaldez, he turned to free him, but instead found Elryia. “Graham, be careful,” she said, turning her head frantically. “He’s here, casting something. I can feel it.”

  “How? I thought you silenced them.”

  “He must be too far away.”

  Those words inspired Graham to search as well. “Yes, but where? There’s no place to hide out here.” Both wanted to be prepared, and had checked everything they could think of. The hill in front of them was too far away and no possible chance he could have made it behind them. No trees, no large rocks, the grass wasn’t even tall enough were he to lie down and hide. There was absolutely nothing big enough for Kalinies to hide himself behind.

  Almost nothing.

  Like a lightning bolt grounded into his brain, it instantly dawned on Grahamas exactly why Drogan had not turned this entire time. As if he read the thought, the Minotaur stopped.

  First moving his huge left shoulder back towards the four companions, he exposed his abdomen to them. Tucked against his chest—like a long shadow beneath his huge maw—was a small, frail-looking Kalinies, his head crooked to one side waving a hand inside the frame of Drogan, while the other hung at his side.

  “Elryia…” Grahamas said, her attention still focused on the search.

  She snapped her eyes to focus on what Grahamas was, “Kalinies…” she sneered, taking one step and then another forward, hand shaking slightly. As it was in Kaldus, Grahamas saw hatred cross her face; but in her eyes—below the surface—he saw fear.

  “El,” he whispered, trying to draw her attention and failing. Now, even he could feel it. The air growing heavy, the wind picking up and pressing into his lungs, and finally the atmosphere growing far too warm for dusk. And the temperature continued to rise, until Grahamas finally broke out into a sweat. “El…do something,” he begged, knowing what was coming, “You have to.”

  Sam was to his right, and though he had once been the greatest wizard in the land, he had told Graham that he hadn’t practiced magick since Highlace fell. In his prime, Samsun could have defeated Kalinies, but not now.

  Elryia was the only one.

  But she was frozen, so full of abhorrence, yet so overwrought with insecurity that her mind was torn—leaving her completely dormant. Graham faced Kalinies, watching the wizard wave his hand in front of his chest from left to right; the earth cracking and then ripping open from the line he had drawn. A second pass of his hand aimed towards the sky and a wall of flame billowed up from the earth, from one end of the crack to the other. It tossed and folded over itself, stretching well above the wizard’s head.

  “El, you can do this,” he encouraged one last time, hoping that she would snap out of it. That she would believe in herself.

  Kalinies shoved his hand forward and the fire rippled and rushed from the crack, tumbling down the road like a searing, crimson tidal wave headed directly for the two of them.

  Graham could wait no longer and he leapt in front of Elryia, “Saris Evelde!” he commanded, calling upon his armor. Though it was not all of it, it would protect some of him so he could take the brunt of the attack and leave her unharmed. He raised his hands, turned his head towards his shoulder and closed his eyes, waiting.

  “NO!” came her cry, and Grahamas hoped that he had done enough to make sure she would not utter another.

  Several seconds passed and still he felt nothing—no heat, no force. Everything seemed oddly calm. He was fast, but it had been too long. He pried one eye open then another, finding first a tan arm draped over his shoulder, a palm obstructing the oncoming flame. As his head cranked left he whispered, “Remise Yavaldes,” returning Hope to get a better view. The fire had stopped only a few feet in front of him, swirling and tumbling, eager to press forward but held back by something.

  Elryia.

  “El…” he whispered, taking a step back to look at her, but suddenly could not believe what lay before him.

  Elryia’s feet were inches above the ground, hovering there effortlessly; her body straight and stiff, unwavering as if carved from stone. His eyes made their way up to hers, only to discover they had been cast over. Her normally soft, blue orbs had been erased, completely shrouded in a misty white as though she had no pupils, no iris. They were devoid of almost everything, less a tiny fragment of what once was, hidden deep behind the white cover. They twitched slightly as her blonde hair fell down and billowed back, framing her face. On it, she wore a look Grahamas saw, but rarely this intense. It was stern and hard with focus. Narrowed lines and tight mouth replaced her innocent gaze and charming smile. Her prior look of confusion and fear had faded and now she projected only determination.

  “Elryia?” he gasped, a question in his voice. He was no longer sure what was going on, or if she could even hear him.

  To stress the matter further she gave no response, simply continued to hol
d her hand in front of the flames.

  On the other side of the wall, Kalinies pushed with all his might—had even dug his heels into the dirt and leaned towards them. Though as hard as he tried, as much as he strained, Elryia held strong—all with only one hand. To her, it seemed almost effortless.

  Seeing as that was getting them nowhere, Drogan charged forward prompting Graham to move and intercept him.

  “Halt.” It was an order that came from Elryia, but it was not her voice—not entirely. Hers exited first, but it was drowned out by a more commanding, higher female voice, and a deeper, dominating male’s.

  Grahamas held, thinking her request was directed at him. Yet on the other side, Drogan had come to a dead stop—and not of his choosing. His body continued its fevered momentum but his feet planted, as though they were nailed to the ground, and only his axe handle saved him from toppling face first into the dirt.

  Elryia’s face hardened; she blinked long and slow. Hypnotically, and with defined precision her head flowed from Drogan back to Kalinies. “Return…” The same voice echoed, more drawn and authoritative than the first time. Without hesitation the wall of fire reversed its previous direction, searing the way back towards Kalinies twice as fast as it came. The Wizard tried his best to stop it, even slow it down; but it was too powerful—too driven—and the Wizard had only enough time to raise his arms in defense. It hit both he and Drogan, exploded and then dissipated, launching them into the air, their bodies arcing and leaving behind a trail of smoke, like a worm made of mist. They landed, and both lay silent.

  Grahamas watched then faced El. She blinked once, her blue eyes surfaced, then closed. Her hand dropped, followed by her entire body. As fast as he could, Grahamas swept behind her so that she landed safely in his arms. He began brushing the hair away from her face, clutching her tighter. She was breathing, but it was slow and shallow. The Champion held her up and dragged a hand behind the back of her head the moment it began to drift, inching it closer to his own to get a response, or reaction. “El…EL!”

  Nothing.

  The Dismal Beckon Of Duties

  “What happened back there?!” Samsun said, running down the hill so fast that he almost fell over.

  Grahamas allowed a glance back, irritated that he had taken so long given the situation and for one moment allowed curiosity to surface as to where he had been. He dismissed it quickly; knowing the issue at hand did not have room for petty bickering. “I have no idea Sam. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” Graham confessed as he pushed over the hill, still holding an unconscious Elryia. “And I’ve lived a long time.”

  Rhimaldez, now free of his chains thanks to an urgent, crafty Graham, was right next to the Champion. He tucked Wind Chaser to his back, having removed it earlier from the fallen Drogan. “I’ll take her horse,” he said in his serious tone

  Graham nodded in appreciation as he sat Elryia gently on his own mount, holding her as he leapt up. His eyes turned to Samsun as he gripped the reigns and his arms squeezed tightly to either side of her, pulling her to his chest.

  “Where are we going?” Sam said, still slightly frantic. Since the moment Elryia had fallen, Grahamas barely uttered a word. He handed her to Samsun briefly while he freed Rhimaldez and made sure that the Captain was all right, then cradled Elryia and charged over the hill.

  “Back,” was all that he said as he charged Feiron forward, keeping his grip tight and watching her closely.

  “Back to what?” Sam asked, following behind him.

  “Back to Jeralyle, Merial…whoever can help her!”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Just make sure that cursed wizard doesn’t chase us.”

  Samsun nodded solemnly, but Graham knew that Kalinies would not. If he would get up at all after that attack he experienced, it would not be for a very long time. Grahamas had only asked that of him in an effort to keep him distracted. He was slowly starting to lose his patience. Sam was not as resourceful as he once was, and Graham was trying his best to remain calm. His concern for Elryia clouded his judgment and he had not the time to discuss every detail with Samsun.

  Behind them, Rhimaldez remained quiet. He had said perhaps less than Graham, not even bothered to thank them properly—not that he wasn’t appreciative, he just knew he had time to show his gratitude when Grahamas was not as concerned about other things. Rhimaldez had been married for years, and if he were in that same position, the one thing he would want more than gratitude would be help.

  Grahamas squeezed tighter, leaning his chin into the top of her head as he continued. He was not racing as he did on the way down from Sharia, fearful that he would throw Elryia off, but haste was still driving him.

  When he finally settled, a flicker of guilt for deceiving Samsun in such a manner confronted him. Telling him that Kalinies may wake was the furthest thing from the truth. But the deceit did not stop there. He had seen something like that prior—encountered it. It was a memory he wished not to awaken, let alone speak of. Not to Samsun or anyone. One that still left him shaken, and a little part of that memory had influence in his frantic, desperate bid to get her back to the group. He was depending on Merial’s sage abilities or Jeralyle’s healing. Between the two of them they would hopefully figure out how to help her.

  She had no wounds, no fever, and her breathing was steady. Although she seemed unharmed, she was still unconscious. Grahamas needed her safety verified, and he was too worried to convince himself of it. He needed to hear it from someone else. He held onto her and pushed Feiron to run a little bit faster. It had taken them several hours to find Rhimaldez, so it would be nearly that long until they made it back; as well as locating Lanyan and the other in the dense forest of Sharia. The Elf had promised to remain in the area, but Sharia was designed to be over abundant and complex. It could take time to find anything—even if he knew where to look. Time was one thing Grahamas did not have.

  He sighed softly, feeling almost foolish for his prior actions, but desperation had overtaken him, and he came to terms with why this was so important to him.

  She was important.

  As hard as he tried, as much as he struggled to push his feelings to the back of his mind, involuntarily they crashed forward. Grahamas had a duty, a destiny to save people and to protect them. Most times, his heart did not get in the way of his head; other times it seemed to be the only thing driving him. She became his only concern, even more important than himself. Completely disregarding his own safety to ensure hers. He gave no thought to how vital he was to the world, only that she was imperative to his. He had wanted to tell her, but he could not. One thing was holding him back. It was…

  “What a wonderful dream this is…”

  Graham felt a hand slide up his arm and he nearly jerked his horse to a stop, “El?” he said, almost in shock.

  “Mmm. Grahamy…” she said, leaning back into him and wrapping both arms around one of his, holding it close to her.

  Graham resisted the urge to physically respond, “El…you’re not dreaming.”

  She blinked, several times, “I’m not?”

  Graham halted Feiron at that point, “No Love, you’re not.”

  She was thankful in not facing Grahamas as he could not see her expression exasperate. “Oh…” she said, releasing his arm and sitting up quickly. “I dreamt that…” but her mind could not commit to an excuse before Graham turned her towards him.

  “You’re well?” he asked, brushing the hair out of her face.

  She smiled and stared, “Mmm, I feel wonderful. As though I’ve been asleep for days.”

  Graham sharpened skeptically as he continued to look her over, “Sure?” She nodded, causing Graham to cradle the back of her head and pull her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her tight, “Thank Yavale,” he whispered, kissing the side of her face several times.

  Again, she blinked, but her awe turned to comfort and she worked her arms around his waist, holdin
g him close. She remained that way, basking in the moment until she realized that she had no idea what had made him so worried. “Grahamas, what happened?”

  He leaned back to look at her, “You don’t remember?” She shook her head slowly and Graham chewed his lip, wondering how to relay what had just occurred.