Dark Age

by Felix O. Hartmann

  My empathy was short lived. The moment her lips touched mine, the fire inside me began to burn again. With a small but powerful shove I pushed her away from me.

  I wanted to explain myself but all I felt was disgust. Quickly I opened the door and hobbled down the stairs. With every step I could hear her sobs grow louder, until she slammed the door shut.

  I pushed myself through the red corridor with closed eyes, as the torches and the color reminded me of my darkest day with every step. Without a word to the guards I rushed outside into the pouring rain.

  The cold wet drops encompassed me like a coat. My hair was soaked, my clothes were drenched, and my boots filled with water. The rain was so cold that it felt like needles of ice dropping onto my skin. By the time I left the terracotta boulevard behind me my teeth chattered violently. There was no one out. I did not care if the night guards were to catch me. All I cared for was to once more relive my own past and find shelter in my memories.

  Through the square I cut straight from the Merchant District to the Temple District. With every step the big church loomed higher above, giving the impression that the Mount distanced itself further from me the closer I came. I tried to find foothold on the slippery ground. The mud around the fundament of the church had turned into pools of dirt. With a deep breath I put my hands on the ledge I had always used to start my climb up the Mount. My muscles contracted. All power ran into my legs as I jumped onto the ledge. A strain in my shoulder spread like wildfire originating at the point the bolt had hit me. My feet landed, and a shockwave of pain ran through my injured leg. Too much weight pressed down upon it at once. Before I could grab a gargoyle’s head for support I lost my balance. With my back first I fell down to the ground, seeing nothing but the stars. Orion was nowhere to be found.

  With a loud thud and splash I crashed into the pool of mud. The dirt covered me from head to toe, all the while my muscles felt unresponsive. I screamed so loud that I could not make out what I said myself. And with that scream I let go of the past, the future, and the dream that had still resided within me.

  Wounded I found my cane in the mud and pushed myself onto my feet. Without looking back I strode to the mansion, while the rain washed off the dirt. I no longer felt wounded, but vulnerable, with no perception but the biting cold.

  The moment I entered the red corridor Cecilia awaited me with a large towel. Despite my earlier behavior she took care of me immediately. It was apparent that she was more worried about my wellbeing than her own feelings. With a supportive hand she led me back up the stairs, all the while drying me off. We passed the level of the festival hall, in which the men were still celebrating. After a short break we continued upstairs towards her chambers.

  “Take off your clothes,” she said, “or you’ll be sick tomorrow.”

  Uncomfortably I took off my shirt dripping water all over the wooden floor.

  “You can sleep in the bed,” she said grabbing a pillow, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “Don’t be silly, the bed is large enough for the two of us. I used to share a bed not even half the size with my brother when I was younger.” I added, “After all we will be married tomorrow.”

  She seemed anxious at the idea, “If you say so.”

  With nothing but the towel wrapped around me I climbed into the bed. It must have been the most comfortable experience of my life. My limbs sunk lightly into what she called a mattress, a large whole body cushion. Never before had I had the opportunity to sleep on one of these. Compared to the cottage in the Guard, my wooden bed had always seemed luxurious.

  Cecilia sat on the side of the bed and blew out her night candle. With no more than the moonlight, I could see just her outlines as she changed from her silver dress into her night gown. Quietly she climbed into the bed leaving half an arm’s length of space in between us.

  I realized that my earlier behavior had scarred her. She kept a safe distance, just so she would not be misled again, and would not have to feel the pain of rejection. Despite her harsh opinions on much of the population, and general naivety, she always treated me well, no matter what I did to her. She seemed so preoccupied with my approval that I could no longer stand torturing her with my distance.

  “I am sorry for my reaction earlier,” I said. “It’s just that things have happened so fast. Give me some time, and don’t be too hard on yourself. After all that has happened in my last ten years, maybe there is some hope for us. Maybe together we can finally find peace and bring some light into this dark hole.”

  She inched her way closer to me and rested her head on my chest. “Thank you,” she whispered and fell asleep shortly after.

  Dawn drew close. Cecilia and I sat upright in her bed. It seemed quite surreal that we were to get married that afternoon. We could already hear the servants decorate and set up the square for a celebration unprecedented in size and grandeur.

  “What exactly do we do when we are married,” she asked.

  “Take walks, read books and grow old. I think that’s what old married couples do,” I said.

  “I’ve never been outside the mansion,” she said looking at me with a hint of unease. “I am scared of the wedding; I’ve never been this close to the commoners.”

  Part of me was surprised; part of me expected those words to come out of her mouth. “Let’s go then,” I said taking her by the hand. “We will picnic out there.”

  As I moved to get up, she pulled me back, “I can’t just leave!”

  “I’ll be right at your side,” I said standing up with the help of my cane. “You can’t stay in here forever.”

  She gave in and disappeared into the bathroom to get ready. I put on my clothes, and told Anthony to prepare some fresh groceries in a basket. Even after I had gathered everything, Cecilia was still getting ready. Her dress was borderline pretentious. I still needed to get used to the fact that we were expected to look pompous. After all we were part of the Inquisitor’s family, the chosen ones.

  We headed down the stairs toward the corridor with the basket in her right hand. Our arms were interlocked, presenting ourselves like the couple we were supposed to be. The closer we drew to the door the slower her feet moved. A guard opened the door for us and with a firm tug I pulled her outside. For part of a second she looked frightened until she realized that absolutely nothing would happen to her. With a new pride and self-confidence she strut down the terracotta boulevard at my side. Many merchants greeted us, bowing down the moment they caught glimpse of the ward. Our presence did not escape anyone’s eyes.

  “Where are we going?” she asked the moment we left the Merchant District. “I liked it here, everything was so pretty and the people were so proper and well-mannered.”

  “It’s a surprise. I want to show you something,” I said and led her through the outskirts of the Craftsman District.

  With every step the road grew dirtier and the buildings were more rundown. At last we reached the Industrial District. Tense, Cecilia lifted her dress so the hem would not drag on the ground. She pressed her body closer against me, frightened by the simple people in their rags that roamed the streets.

  The smelter loomed ahead of us with its radiating heat.

  “This must be the worst picnic ever,” she murmured.

  “We were never going to eat it ourselves,” I said.

  Confused she looked at me as I knocked on the door. It opened slightly but no one was there. After a moment I realized that the little boy, Seth, stood below our sight.

  I got on my knees, and looked at him. His deep blue eyes were reflecting the rising sun. The distrust I had faced before still remained.

  “Give the little boy the basket,” I said.

  “I’m not little,” he objected.

  “But what about breakfast,” Cecilia joined in objecting.

  “He needs it more than us.”

  “I can’t take things from strangers,” he mumbled and started closing the door. His mother came and pushed the boy aside. Tears were
running down her face the moment she saw me.

  “I am sorry about Robert,” I whispered as she fell into my arms.

  “I am sorry about Katrina,” she said. “With all that has happened to you, I’d bet the lives of my children that you are cursed. The best always have to suffer the most.” She looked at Cecilia and said in a low voice, “the greatest curse still awaits you.”

  Carefully I removed myself from her and placed my hand on Cecilia’s back. “Sometimes we mistake the good for the bad. We project so much evil onto them, that they have no chance but to become what we think of them. It takes acceptance despite all prior judgments to see a person’s true character.”

  With an uncertain smile Cecilia held the basket out to Robert’s widow. She hesitated for a moment and looked back and forth between Cecilia and the food. Seth looked up at his mother who was deciding between pride and survival. Just before Cecilia was about to resign and take her offer back, the mother grabbed the food. Despite her innermost protest she thanked Cecilia.

  A new smile shot across Cecilia’s face. It was a smile of warmth, just like the one Katrina would always wear.

  “I wish you two the best of luck today,” the woman said and pushed her son back into the house.

  We left the smelter and strolled through the Industrial District. About almost every house I was able to tell a story. When we passed the lumber mill I told her of Nigel and our years in the Guard. Fascinated she listened closely with her eyes glued to my lips.

  In a small side alley a band of five men stood in a circle. Their postures were hunched and their faces shot back and forth from their comrades to the opening of the alley. One of them kept his eyes on me for an extended period.

  Suddenly he turned to point me out to his friends. “Something’s not right,” I said and pushed Cecilia and myself against the wall of a building out of his sight.

  “We should not be here,” Cecilia urged.

  A ray of sun hit the alley and something reflected from one man’s belt. “They are armed,” I said in disbelieve. “No one but the blacksmith should have access to weapons. How did they get their hands on them?” There was one logical explanation: Yorick’s former deals.

  A passing-by city guard noticed us hiding in the shadow of the building at the entrance of the alley and drew closer. His hand was on the knob of his sword.

  The moment he recognized the ward he bowed down. We motioned him to get up and pointed to the group with our eyes. He understood and approached them with confidence.

  “What are you doing here? There is no idling around during work hours!”

  Carefully we sneaked out of our cover and observed the scene. The men regrouped and faced the guard.

  “I am sorry sir,” one of them said, slowly stepping forward with his head bowed. “I have an important message. We were just discussing something of relevance to the Inquisitor’s safety.”

  The guard relaxed, “Come on. Out with it.”

  “Nobody may hear it,” the man said approaching the guard, “come closer.”

  “You better not play games with me, I’ll have you hanged…What is…”

  In a quick move the man pulled a dagger from his boot and slashed the guard’s throat. With nothing but a gurgling sound our protector fell over. The man took the guard’s weapons and tossed them to his comrades.

  Cecilia shrieked at the bloody sight. I covered her mouth immediately, hiding our bodies in the shade.

  “Did you hear that?” the man asked his comrades.

  With some noises of affirmation I heard their steps draw closer. Exit plans shot through my mind. I could not outrun them with my injured leg. They were bound to catch up with me. Climbing and taking the roofs for escape was out of the question as well. Screaming for help would make it even easier for them to find us.

  Slowly I inched my way back through the shade. A doorframe gave us a little niche to hide in.

  The man was already in sight. Cecilia squeaked through my hand in fear. His eyes darted towards us. With a satisfied grin he advanced.

  A band of city guards entered the alley. The man quickly hid his dagger and stepped back.

  “Stay where you are,” ordered Henry, the captain of the city guard, “Someone heard a woman scream, what are you men up to?”

  Cecilia freed herself from my grasp and ran towards the captain. I joined her and stepped out of the shade. The guards bowed down upon seeing the ward, baffled to find her out here.

  “They killed a guard and were about to murder us,” she uttered frightened.

  Henry looked at the man carefully. He scanned the ground and saw blood stains where the body had lain. With clenched teeth he drew his sword, “My friend was on watch for this part of the district. The Inquisitor might be generous these days, but I will make sure you bastards won’t get a trial.” He turned to his men, “Kill them all.”

  Chapter 35

  The guards swarmed out with their blades drawn. Immediately the men rushed down the alley, running into the dead end. Before they could draw their weapons the guards slaughtered them like animals. With merciless blows they cut down one after the other. Only a minute had passed when the last one stopped shaking.

  Henry, the captain of the city guard had been a savior to Cecilia a minute ago, but now she saw him for the brutish swine he was. “Why did you kill those men?” she shouted.

  “I’m just doing my job girl,” he said. “We can’t have any insurgents in the city.”

  “I will tell my uncle of this,” she hissed returning to my side.

  “I’d hope so; It will get me a nice reward,” he said and smeared the blood from his blade onto a piece of cloth. “Let’s go. The Inquisitor had sent us out to look for you. We are here to bring you back to the mansion. A wedding awaits you two an hour before sunset.”

  Back in the mansion we were escorted to the throne room where the Inquisitor had been waiting. His appearance was paler than ever, contrasted by the blood red apple in his hand.

  “These guards killed five men,” Cecilia said approaching her uncle.

  “They did whatever was necessary to ensure your safe return home,” the Inquisitor said calmly and waved the guards out of the room. The door fell shut and we were left alone with him. The silence was broken when he took a large bite from the apple.

  “This can’t go on forever,” I said from the back of the room.

  “And it won’t,” the Inquisitor noted, “because your wedding will win back their hearts. Maybe now you recognize the importance of this little act. You are not doing it for me. You are doing it for them. Their lives are in your hands. Don’t waste any more or this whole city will cease to function and collapse.”

  The Inquisitor pointed his finger to the door, “Cecilia, sweetheart, go see your maids. You need to wash, prepare, and dress.”

  She nodded and left obediently. “Adam,” his raspy voice called before I could leave, “It’s all on you. One more act like last time, and the city’s fate shall be sealed forever.”

  I bowed my head accepting his words without comment. The moment would have been suitable to attack and kill him to bring an end to the madness, but I had been too deep in the mud already. Any protest would make me sink even deeper. At least that was what the past twenty-six years had taught me.

  The afternoon passed swiftly as a flock of maids prepared and dressed me for the wedding. My old Grey Guard armor had been refurbished, polished, and decorated for the occasion. The Brooch of Excellence was fixed over my heart.

  Counting the remaining minutes to the wedding, I sat in a purple dressing room with Anthony at my side. Quietly we stared out the window, watching the crowds assemble. “You know,” I said, “sometimes I think how easy life could have been if I had just played along; followed all the rules, kept quiet. I was unwilling to see my brothers die in service, but I have seen so many die in the name of freedom. I just no longer see the difference. Tyrant or rebel, we all have blood on our hands.”

  “We all liv
e in our own worlds, Adam; You, me, the Inquisitor…everyone. We all have our own realities. Until man manages to look past his own, and accept each other’s for the simple facts, we will always live unhappy. Wars, murder, betrayal, it all roots back to perception. Like a pack of wolves in sheepskins we hide our evil beneath deceptions of peace.” He scratched the back of his head and continued, “Certainly you could have accepted all you were told, but progress and change require conflict. Most of us just don’t know how to handle conflict properly, always thinking in terms of right or wrong; the ones that live and the ones that die.”

  “And so it goes,” I said watching a man being dragged off by guards in the distance. “Maybe one day when all this has settled we can find peace.”

  A servant knocked on the door and entered, “It’s time,” he said, and vanished as fast as he came in.

  Anthony put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at him and I could feel that we both were anxious about what was about to come. It was not unlikely that some insurgents had already planned my assassination. All I knew was that I could not show weakness.

  I met Cecilia in the throne room. The double door to the grand balcony was prompt open with only the red curtains keeping us from the sight of the people. Outside, the Inquisitor held a passionate speech. For the first time in my memory, he did not recycle his stock speech about God and duty. His words touched the hearts of the people at the very core. He named citizens by name, told them about their struggles and how they were able to make it through. After every example he found a way to connect their recovery to the unity of the city, and the establishment of the Inquisition. Effectively he transitioned the long introduction into a praise of the new found love that was to represent the renewal of God’s blessing upon the city. He asked them to draw hope and faith from this beautiful occasion, and rejoice with their loved ones again in the splendor of the city.