In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  “Find her?” Ristalln finally got the chance to speak with Grahamas after everything had settled and he had sufficiently worshipped Lornya.

  “Her? Who?” The Champion was at Feiron’s side, tugging his bedroll from the saddle.

  “Hope.”

  “Aye. I did. Right where you said she was.”

  “Good. Any problems?”

  Grahamas couldn’t help but chuckle, turning first his head and then the rest of his body. “In case we ever get separated again and you’re required once more to hide Hope—have someone protect it, do not choose a raving, maniacal demon who serves the Lathlogar.”

  The Knight could only blink as Grahamas walked by, the Champion smiling so it was hard for Ristalln to tell if he was genuine. “Do you speak the truth Grahamas?”

  “Aye. That I do.”

  “Well then, I apologize. I had no idea. I thought him simply…eccentric.”

  “No. Eccentric is talking to oneself or riding a horse backwards. Morgondeval imprisoned people within his dirt tunnel and fed off of them while they were still alive.”

  “Oh…that is slightly mad, yes.” Ristalln’s face quirked, “And how are you certain he served the Lathlogar?”

  “He mentioned him. Actually Pallorn, but you know that story.”

  “I do, very well. So then Morgondeval is…”

  “Aye. Dead, thanks to Elryia.”

  “I’m sorry Grahamas. Had I known I never would have left it with him, or at least I would have sent you better prepared were I to find out later.”

  “Do not worry of it. I would not have discovered such a thing if Lornya didn’t have such a good pair of eyes on her,” The Champion smiled as she approached, though she didn’t look nearly as enthused as him.

  “That’s not all she’s got…” Ristalln muttered before Grahamas instinctively jabbed his elbow into the Knight’s stomach.

  “Any sign of Valaira?” Grahamas said, trying to drown out Ristalln’s comment, or at least distract from it.

  “No,” Lor said, looking slightly distressed. “Her magick allows her to change form and I believe she may have escaped into the forest. It would make her much harder to find.”

  “Change forms?” Grahamas leaned in to whisper, “Like Fate?”

  “No. Valaira is only able to revert to one other form: a raven.”

  “So, she most likely disguised herself with the rest of them when they flew away.” Grahamas leaned up, focusing on the few birds that remained, “Or she is still hiding.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “Can you be sure?”

  “The trees told me. Her absence is best, at least until you retrieve Fate.” Grahamas nodded slowly and Lornya crept even closer to him, staring back at the rest of the group, “Did you happen to see the look on her face before she left?”

  “Aye, it resembled fear…almost shock.”

  “And did you see who was in her gaze?”

  Grahamas flicked his head, again focusing on Carsis, though he remained speechless.

  “We need to watch out for him, Graham. It is obvious now where the black aura lies, and I believe she knows it as well. I still do not know where it stems from, nor how deep, but I do know it’s dangerous.”

  Grahams stayed silent, only staring at the man.

  Across the forest, he stared back, wondering why the Champion refused to look away. He was so focused that he failed to notice Merial walking up to him.

  “You need to get more sun,” she muttered, running her fingers through his red locks, “your hair is starting to get dark.”

  Normally, he would flaunt such affection from her, yet tonight was different. The naive burden of competition was nowhere to see it. And, deep in his mind—for reasons unexplained—he felt there was a much greater cause for the sudden change than simply a lack of light. Wanted no further focus on it, so he yanked away. Vehemently.

  With a sigh, Merial dropped her hand, “I don’t understand you lately.” She waited for a response but Carsis’ remained devoid of thought and locked on Grahamas. “Fine. When you want to talk, come and find me,” she wandered off, all without drawing his attention.

  Gort and Lanyan watched her walk by and simply shrugged, not thinking to ask. Instead, they gave attention to the approaching Champion.

  “Well fought,” Grahamas first stuck his hand out to the Elf and shook his hand before doing the same to the Dwarf, “both of you.”

  “Just doing our jobs,” Lanyan humbly replied, prompting a grunt from Gort.

  “Still, it’s appreciated. Neither of you are hurt?” Lanyan and Gort looked at each other, then shook their heads, “Good. And everything is prepared with Javal?”

  “Aye,” Gort said, “He has extended quite a generous offer. He asked only that we inform him when we are ready. Mare made a lasting impression on him.”

  “Merial? Interesting. What struck him?”

  Gort laughed, shaking his head—still unable to believe it himself, “Tha floor. She out drank him. First time I’ve ever seen it.”

  Grahamas turned an impressed look towards Merial, and then chuckled to himself, “Really? I wouldn’t have imagined that.”

  “Nor did he. Never saw it coming til he was flat on his back. His pride should be recovered by now though so he’ll be waiting fer us. We’re ready, aye?”

  “No, which is why I wanted to speak with you. We have one more journey to make to the north. Once we’ve finished, we will head back to Forgas.”

  “We?” Lanyan interjected.

  “Yes, it’s a journey I ask that we make together.”

  “Tonight?”

  “No. We are staying here until morning and we have plans to move then. Elryia is informing everyone else.”

  Gort huffed and his eyes shifted around the clearing, obviously considering what had just occurred, “Are ya sure that’s safe?”

  “Aye, Lornya has put a temporary barrier around the forest—one that will last the night. She’s also going to stand guard.”

  “That makes me feel better,” Lanyan said, though maintained a look of curiosity while he stared at the Goddess.

  “Makes one of us,” Gort grumbled, still surveying the area. “But I suppose sleep is sleep.”

  As the Dwarf continued to complain, Grahamas simply chortled and watched, then gave a brief nod to Lanyan before moving back to the center of the clearing where he met Elryia. “Everyone informed?” he asked, trying his best to contain his smile.

  On the other side of him, Elryia was trying to do the same thing, “Aye. All except Ristalln, and I can’t seem to find him.”

  “If you find Lornya, you’ll find him. I assure you.”

  Elryia giggled and eyed him, rocking back and forth on her feet, “Want to go look for him?”

  “Nay, “ he said, closing the gap between them and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, leading them forward, “She will let him know. We should get to bed.” Though her mouth maintained the grin, her eyes went wide. Grahamas rolled his, “Not what I meant.” And the young woman burst into laughter, “Where’s Merial?”

  Elryia flicked her head forward, motioning to the trees in front of them as Grahamas knelt down and spread his bedroll out.” Tucked in the forest, she’s collecting plants.”

  Grahamas stretched out as she slid down next to him, though he jolted suddenly, “Where’s Carsis?”

  Elryia pushed him down and then glided her hand across his chest, trying to ease his worries. “He’s behind you. He was already sleeping when I went around.” That, combined with the barrier, allowed the Champion to relax and his head fell back against the soft ground, Elryia laid hers on his chest and murmured “Good night Grahamas.”

  He exhaled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, “Good night El,” he whispered before leaning down to kiss her head. Elryia buried her face deeper into his chest to hide her blush. A short time later, along with nearly all the other companions, they had both fallen asleep.

&
nbsp; A good distance behind them, Carsis thought he blinked his eyes open, but it was only an illusion, alerting him to a soft voice ringing in his head.

  “Carsis…”

  A fog crept in, giving off a faint glow, a dismal backdrop for the murky moonlight. It covered him, made it hard to breathe, forcing him to stand. It now only covered his lower half and spread throughout the entire clearing.

  “Carsis…”

  The red-haired man twitched, anxiously looking about, but he could barely see in the night and the fog certainly didn’t help. “Who… Who’s there?”

  For the longest time—silence—and finally, a melody pierced the night, “A friend… One who wishes to speak with you.”

  Carsis was entranced somewhat, he had little control as he began drifting towards the sound, but snapped back to reality and held his ground. “How do I know that I can trust you?” At first he believed he was awake, then thought he was dreaming. However, it was somewhere in between. Too vivid, too clear to be a dream, but everything else around him was gone—the companions, the horses. Such a thing happened far too quickly for reality.

  “I assure you, no harm will be done to you… Please… Come out of the forest…”

  Though he felt that draw again, he remained—obviously toiling with the decision. In reality, Carsis had barely moved, he’d only twitched and rolled slightly. It was so miniscule that the two guarding—Ristalln and Lornya—did not even notice. Yet in his mind, he stalked all the way to the edge of the forest, and then he waited. “If I can trust you, then give me your name.”

  “Valaira.”

  “Valaira? You tried to kill us only hours ago… You must be mad if you think that I would trust you.”

  “That was before I knew… And that was only against your companions. You, Carsis, are different. You, I would never hurt.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve seen your heart Carsis. It’s not like the others. You have potential for greater things beyond this silly war, away from being a puppet for Grahamas.”

  “I am no one’s puppet!”

  “No? Tell me when is the last they asked for your opinion, or trusted you enough to watch over the group? You’re an enforcer to them—a mindless grunt. Nothing more. You are not respected or feared. You simply fade into the background while the rest of them garner more and more power. The Mage, weak and young, doesn’t even respect you enough to stay away from your Merial.”

  “You are beginning to enrage me. What is your point?” he teetered on the exit, raising his head and screaming into the night.

  “My point is that I can help you. I can make it so not only your companions respect you, but the world. I can make it so they will all bow down at your feet.”

  “Why would you do this for me?”

  “I’m not. You’re going to do it on your own. I am simply going to show you how. And you will rule by my side.” Far off in the distance, a black silhouette of a woman glided across the road, one hand raised and held out to him, dipping into the moonlight, revealing only pale, slender fingers—inviting him.

  Carsis thought long and hard about what she offered, and what she had said and finally he gave in, “What do I have to do?”

  “Wake up…” the whisper floated along the breeze, “And walk south. That is all,” he heard her words followed by a soft, wicked laugh.

  Suddenly, Carsis’ eyes blinked open and he was staring up at the sporadic glint of stars in the night sky. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and then started to sit up, only to find he was pinned down with Merial at his side. The sudden jolt woke her as well and she turned to look at him, “Oh, you’re awake.” She blinked and stared for a long time, “I’m sorry I was short with you.”

  Carsis, at first, focused on the south exit of the forest and then on her, “I’m sorry too, Mare.”

  He blinked, trying to clear his head and dismiss that strange encounter, though he could still feel it. His emotions; changing. Some points sharpened while others faded. He should be comforted by her apology, yet he only harbored rage—perceiving that the only reason she was so curt with him was the Mage worming his way into her heart and outing him. And though he no longer had the desire to move out from the forest, deep in his heart was the part of him that Valaira sought and Lornya worried of. Next to him, wrapped in his arms, was the cause of his darkness—the reason he had started this journey.

  It was simply that he was competitive. At least, that’s how it began. Carsis was not a warrior. He had never used a sword a day in his life; he had no interest in magick, nor any idea how to use it. Carsis was a simple merchant. One who happened to have his store right next to a local bar in Davaina. A bar he would drink at when he closed. It was there that he first saw her, and knew he had to have her. He went every night for a year before she finally noticed him or showed any interest in him. For a year after that, he courted her, brought her gifts, wrote her poems, and remained devoted until she finally committed to him fully. He even spoke of merging their two establishments together.

  Two years later, they became engaged. He had her. One of the most beautiful women in all of Davaina, perhaps even Eldonia, was his. Love was never part of his equation. He simply wanted to say that she was his. And when other men would lavish her with baubles and stare at her with longing, Carsis would swell with pride, as she would never return their affection. Merial was loyal to him. Everything was perfect.

  Then, after six months, it had all started to crumble. Merial became more relaxed and less goal-oriented. Her business started to become more popular and the attention became greater. Carsis, fearful she would slip from him, pushed to set the date for their marriage. Merial wanted to wait. It seemed as though she cared more about the bar than she did for their future. The man wanted to forever cement his claim on her, but the harder he tried, the further away she slipped—sinking deeper into her bar. She started coming home later and later, some nights not at all. He would find her sleeping under a table or on the bar the next morning. It enraged him, becoming a tug of war between the two. Merial would drift away and Carsis would yank her back. And it worked for a time, but when the King started implementing more and more taxes, Merial was forced to work even more. She said she didn’t have any choice, but Carsis believed it to simply be another excuse. In his mind, drastic measures had to be taken.

  One fateful night, he happened to be in the bar when Idimus’ tax collector came for a fifth time. He had been by her when she refused to pay and Carsis saw his opportunity. After the collector left in a foul mood, the red-haired man followed him out and made a deal. He agreed to pay him one and one-half of what he asked. But, on one condition: the collector was to deal only with Carsis and never speak a word to Merial or to collect another coin from her. If he agreed, Carsis would continue paying that amount five times a month. The soldier took it; any sane man would, accepted the payment and never looked back.

  Three days later, after Carsis had guaranteed that Merial did not suspect him, after he was assured that she was expecting repercussions from Idimus, he took from her the one thing that threatened to tear them apart. With thoughts only of marriage and his lust to contain her, he snuck out while she slept and headed to her bar. When he was positive that no one was watching, he burned it to the ground. After everything had settled, he finalized his plot with the note on the door of her home when she was at the bar, implicating Idimus and his tax collector. He never felt one ounce of remorse for doing it; in his eyes, it was only bricks and wood. The future was far more tangible, and much more worthwhile.

  It worked. She fell into his arms and found sanctuary in his coddling; and he protected her as he always had. But it was not to last. Merial eventually got over her loss and held only rage for the King; Elryia then tempted her into vengeance. Carsis feared his plan had backfired. It occurred to him that he could lose her and never see her again. That she may lose sight and then be charmed by someone else. Though it was against his goals, and better judgment, the only re
al way to keep her was to go along. He could keep an eye on her and still be seen as the caring, compassionate man she once knew.

  He didn’t realize they would be gone for over a year. He thought—hoped—that she would grow tired and bored, simply just become home sick. Merial had a deeper resolve that even he knew, and she continued on. Even when they made a temporary home in Tarnel, Carsis begged her to stay and to think about the wedding, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Merial was still focused on one thing: revenge. As the year unfolded, Carsis developed different emotions towards her—feelings of resentment and deception. He wondered if she wanted to be with him at all or if she was just prolonging the marriage because she never truly desired it. Deep down, he started to feel a hate that had been buried since meeting her.

  The presence of Jeralyle had only deepened the vile in him. At first, he had no problems with the Mage. But eventually he saw Merial looking at him in a different way than she did everyone else: a way that she never looked at him. She flirted with him, left to talk with him, and it had grown incredibly obvious that she was more than just attracted to him. Carsis hated him for it. There were nights that he imagined ending…

  “Hey,” Merial tugged on his arm, dragging him out of his thoughts, “Where are you?”

  Carsis was still staring to the south of the forest when her comments brought his gaze down to her, “I’m here. Right here Mare.”

  “Good,’” she whispered, laying her head back onto his chest.

  For the moment, Carsis felt it burn inside him again—the hate, the jealously, and his undying desire to keep her as his own—all of it overwhelmed him. But on the surface, he was as sweet as possible, as he had always been—holding her tightly to him. A deception he had spent years perfecting.

  In front of them, the Goddess looked back at the cuddling Carsis and Merial, then to the contently sleeping Grahamas and Elryia. Longing, her hand slowly slid into the Knight’s as they silently stood guard in the night.

  Behind them, Grahamas lay completely still with Elryia tight in his arms. Like most nights that Graham actually got to sleep, he wandered through a very vivid, very powerful dream. Though this was unlike the ones he’d had previously. He did not find himself in the middle of a thunderstorm, rather under the shining sun. He was not racing on a horse through an open field, instead walking on his own feet between rows and rows of people. In this dream he did not feel fear and anxiety, only peace and excitement.

  As he continued, what now lay in front of him became visible: the Goddess, Lornya, standing directly in his line of sight, facing him. To her right was Merial, and to her left, Ristalln. Each watching—and waiting for—him. The closer he drew, the more faces he recognized: Gort, Javal and Rasonius, Lanyan and Starrlana, Jeralyle, but not Carsis.

  His mind was still trying to understand the situation, but his body seemed to know exactly where to head, and he acknowledged both Merial and Ristalln before he stood in front of the grinning Knight. Lornya smiled at him as well, and he felt the undeniable urge to face the same way as the rest of them.

  The soft hum of flutes and harps whispered around him. At the end of his blanketed vision, down the very same walkway he had just tread, Elryia followed in a long, white dress with a thin sheet of lace falling over her flawless features.

  Grahamas sucked in a breath and snapped his eyes open; his body twitched so abruptly that it startled Elryia out of sleep as well. “Graham?” she perked and leveled her head up to look at him, “What is it? Another nightmare?”

  “No…” The Champion took a moment to adjust his mind from dream to reality, staring up at the soft gray sky the breaking dawn had created. Just as quickly as he awoke, the dream filtered back to him and his face erupted in a blush. “No, not a nightmare. Not even close.”

  Elryia propped herself up to stare at him more intently, trying to read the expression on his face. But as long as she’d known him, she’d never seen an embarrassment so fierce. “What did you dream?”

  The Champion tried to crawl backwards to escape the question, but she pursued him, “I…” he whispered and cast his eyes everywhere but hers.

  “Grahamas… Tell me.”

  “I dreamt…” he began, finally making contact, “I dreamt about us. You and I.”

  “Something in the past?”

  “No… The future. Maybe…the future.”

  Grahamas was certain she would continue with her interrogation, but Elryia only narrowed and grinned before laying her head back on his chest, “The future…I understand.”

  The Champion became as puzzled as she was a moment ago. She seemed content with that answer and was silent.

  What Elryia had not told him, nor would, was that she had dreamt the exact same thing. Both laid there for a short while afterwards as those around them started to wake, knowing they would be making a long journey north in the matter of an hour.