Light of the Dark

by N. Saraven

  He was not.

  When Cameron walked by a dark corridor, an eerie shape jerked him into the shadows. He could not even comprehend what was happening, nor defend himself. One of the waiting creatures knocked him out cold immediately. Nobody saw anything; even the surrounding houses and trees looked away.

  Neila turned on a smaller street and marched forwards. She felt uneasy; her golden eyes searched the surroundings warily. After she left the main road behind, she let out a relieved sigh.

  The road she had taken seemed as neat and smooth as the main street, only friendlier. It was surrounded by bushes; some of them were already in bloom. Others made the bright-green leaves first. Birds and other smaller animals rushed through the branches, rustling. The whole quadrant seemed like part of the forest itself.

  Maybe it was the elvens, maybe the surroundings, but Neila eased up almost immediately. It felt that as soon as she left the main road, she had passed an invisible line which led to another world—a peaceful yet still-more-rigid-than-it-should-be world. Even the air seemed different, somehow lighter. Neila felt relieved; still she never let go of the hilt, although her clench on it eased up as well.

  On the other hand, there was nothing that should have made her feel safe in any way. The elvens, seeing the black clothes, started to whisper among themselves. Wariness shone in their eyes, combined with alertness. Some even briskly nodded at her; others just dropped their gaze to the ground and paced faster.

  Neila felt hurt, seeing them like this. The only good thing was that this proved her disguise successful. But she did not have time to be happy about it, nor the mood, for that matter. She still had some distance to cover.

  She turned on another, smaller road, slowing down. She had to look carefully now because she had visited the place only once before. Many houses were built on top of the trees, as if they could escape from the tax collectors. Others were carved directly into the trees themselves, which were obviously made bigger and stronger by magic.

  The Master was looking for one of the latter. One tree house was smaller than the others, so small that it could barely hold an actual home inside. Somehow it seemed different too; the carvings on the wooden door did not suit the elvens. They liked flowers or stars, maybe leaves, but this one looked as if wooden crystals were possible.

  Neila held up her hand to knock, but she stopped in mid-air when she looked around. She had just discovered Cameron’s absence, which made her blood freeze. She turned pale; she could not even blink nor breathe for a couple of moments. Then her heart started to pump again.

  The Master wanted to find him immediately. She was about to turn away from the door and start forwards. The urge grew so strong, it almost made her forget everything else. Yet Neila found herself clenching her jaws and knocking on the door.

  No answer came, so she knocked again, hurrying this time. Still no answer. Neila peeked around, worried. The fact that a black mage did not get invited in to a home made the passersby uneasy. She got more and more uninvited looks, which made her nervousness grow. Neila tried to calm herself by taking a few deep breaths, then knocked again.

  In that exact moment, a Guards-patrol turned on the street. Neila looked at them anxiously. If they saw that she, a dark mage, did not get invited in, they probably would want to investigate. And that could be catastrophic.

  She had a cover story; however, a situation like this could escalate fast. Maybe she would be summoned back to a headquarters of some kind to describe the situation further. She most probably could not bluff her way through such a thorough questioning. She did not believe that every Guardsman knew all mages, but one could not be certain of such things. Maybe Indrek made the effort to force his subjects to recognise one another. Maybe not. It still was a huge gamble.

  The Master regarded the closing Guards with a throbbing heart. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool spring air. She just started measuring her options when suddenly the door opened and a hand jerked her inside.

  She landed on the floor as the door shut with a loud bang.

  Neila scrambled to her feet immediately, holding her hilt just in case. She could hardly see anything in the dim light. She gazed at the host’s back, who was peeking out the curtained window. She could not see his face in the gloom; her eyes were still adjusting to the shades.

  The mage stepped forwards, but the host motioned her to stay calm and put. He only looked at Neila when the Guardsmen’s steps faded away.

  “Hello, Neila. I’ll make light in a moment,” he said.

  “Elnor!” The mage sighed in relief.

  13. Gathering darkness

  “Hello, Neila. I’ll make light in a moment,” said Elnor. With a word, a few spheres started to glow on the walls. They emitted a warm, yellow light, and the carvings on the spheres gave dancing shade shapes. Despite the glaring sunlight outside, the one window was covered with a heavy curtain, making the room dim.

  “Elnor!” Neila sighed in relief. “Not a moment too soon. I thought something had happened to you!” Neila cried out.

  The young kobold smiled all-knowingly as he motioned her to sit.

  The room itself was very small and rounded, which made the owner use every free space as practically as he could. A bed lay at one side, a chest for clothes and other personal items beside it. In the middle stood a round table with two chairs, the small hearth right next to them. Around the walls were many longer or shorter shelves, stuffed with other belongings. The paragon might have used this place for sleep only.

  “Yes, it is not much, but enough for my needs,” he answered Neila’s searching look, which made her blush a little. It was a habit of hers—assessing her surroundings. “And by the way, I am sorry for making you wait, but I had to be sure that you were truly not from the Order,” he explained, shrugging, and he poured wine for two. He took a sip, but Neila did not touch hers. She was concerned, seeing the other’s caution.

  Elnor just gazed at his cup as he sometimes sipped. He wore an interesting mix of elven and paragon clothes; his tunic was obviously made by the former, yet the length and colouring showed kobold features. It was deep green, embroidered with the same colour, paired with brown trousers and moccasin boots. His brown hair was cut unusually short and held down with a silver band.

  All in all, he seemed as if he had halfway turned into an elven. Now he whirled his cup nervously, sometimes looking up and around, as if he were a hunted beast. His whole body seemed stiff and jumpy, ready to fight or flee, whichever the situation demanded. His golden eyes, which proved his relationship to Neila, glared with fear.

  As the mage looked at him searchingly, it struck her—Elnor used to be a mischievous young kobold, looking only at the bright and funny side of life. He always proved to be clumsier than a skilled soldier or mage. But as Neila looked at him now, she knew that that boy had disappeared. This paragon became someone who obviously had lived and seen too much. He looked frightened, yet a certain calmness surrounded him, as if whatever came, he would face it with a precise decision, followed by planned moves.

  He grew up.

  Neila made a faint grimace as she measured her nephew. Ten circles had passed since the Dragonwars, which should have meant nothing to a kobold. He still should have been a young paragon, who had just started to dive into his nation’s rigid customs.

  A chill ran down Neila’s spine. The man before her was someone who was mysterious, probably dangerous. She did not question his loyalty, although she had a feeling that she really, really did not want to make an enemy of Elnor—his body language showed that he was hunted, yes, but not the victim.

  “The last ten circles were hard on me,” whispered Elnor, as if he knew of what Neila was thinking. He still whirled his cup nervously, then he looked up and caught her gaze. “Yes, I have changed. Because the life in Nar isn’t something you dream of.”

  Neila opened her mouth to say something, but he did not give her a chance. His passionate voice held her captive.

  “It
may seem perfect at first sight, but it couldn’t be further from it. Indrek’s built a tyranny, in which he resumes the order with the Scarlet Guards, the Order of the Shadows, and the werewolves. The first two are totally true to him, the last only as he can pay them well. And if all this weren’t enough, his army is stationed near the city.”

  The Master wanted to interrupt him and tell him that she knew this already, but she stayed silent. Elnor could not have known anything about her knowledge in the matter, and she did not want to raise any unnecessary questions either. Furthermore, another point of view could never hurt. Maybe her spies had missed something. So she stared at her cup and listened.

  “The high taxes seem nothing compared to the fear we must live in. Anybody who wants to do something about the tyrant is in grave danger. I too wonder about when they will come for me. Will the next breath be my last? Am I under the scÿta’s watch …?”

  “Scÿta …?” cut in Neila with a frown. She had never heard of this organisation before, which meant nothing but bad. Elnor nodded slowly and put one of his hands on the table, while with the other he leaned on his knee.

  “They are the collection of Indrek’s best killers, masters of everything. There is no one who can get away from them, once they’ve set their eyes on somebody. They have the freedom to arrest anybody and/or act on will. They are so perfect that nobody, not even a kobold or elven, can hide from them. Also, they have some knowledge of magic, but from what I can tell, only in theory. Anyhow, I know that there were mages in the city who were working with you, Neila. Well, they have been discovered, captured, and not much later executed, too. Nobody left.”

  Neila’s eyes widened as she became deathly pale. She forgot to breathe for a few moments, which made her cough. She took a sip from her cup.

  “But this is not all,” continued Elnor, almost cruelly. “Indrek started a war with that mysterious black tower. Nobody knows why it was created so close to the city. Some say that even the Gods are afraid of that place.”

  In every other situation, Neila would laugh about this joke, but now she just made a grimace. Elnor looked at her inquiringly, although he did not say anything about that and just continued.

  “Although, I assume, you know something about that tower. Maybe saw the Mist even …?” asked the kobold absentmindedly, yet somehow his voice held something else. A faint threat? Might he know something? Neila could not even guess.

  “Not really … never got close to that place,” she murmured grumpily. Her golden eyes became cold as ice. Nobody knew the truth about her and Varomor, and this was not the moment to tell either. Her steady gaze brought Elnor back to the present, signalling him to drop the conversation. But he seemed cold about it, as if he did not really care whether he knew the whole story or not. His phlegmatic attitude startled Neila. She realised how differently Elnor behaved now, and she could not be certain whether it was wise to trust him or not.

  “Anyhow,” said the kobold, not really changing the conversation, as if he did not fear Neila’s gaze, “so far Indrek gained nothing. They must be some tough people in that place, that is for sure.”

  “If you say so …” muttered the Master and finished her drink. It looked like the paragon had less respect for her now than before, hence her look was not enough sign. Elnor talked like nothing could bother him in that moment.

  “But the important thing is that Indrek knows nothing about that tower, even less about who lives there. He has this picture in his head that the sole purpose of that place is to undercut his ruling and destroy him.”

  Neila gave a snort of irritation, which made Elnor glance at her questioningly. The Master motioned him to continue before he started asking questions. He went on, but his voice held surprise. She dismissed it completely though.

  “So … because nothing has worked so far, Indrek thought of something else. He wanted to use the peoples’ fear, and believe me, he succeeded. He managed to create an army, and by using this fear, he will attack the tower. Soon …”

  “Say WHAT?!” cried out Neila. She could not believe what she had just heard. “He cannot be so stupid! He has no chance!”

  “Well … I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Whoever built that tower must be strong. But against the Order, the Scarlet Guards, and the peoples’ unreasonable fear … it will be tough. Indrek has a formidable army. He had taken control of the surrounding lands, and he will not stop at that. He wants a big Empire, almost made threats against the elvens in their Homeland. And I heard that he already started to make plans for Caracen …”

  Neila tried to confine herself, but it was difficult. Her heart wanted to jump out; she heard her blood throbbing in her ears. She did not really see Elnor in front of her, who spoke further, yet she could not comprehend a word. She really tried her best not to show the turmoil inside her, although she had never thought that the situation could be this bad. She had read the spies’ reports, but only reading about them made the happenings lighter than what they truly were.

  For example, Neila would have never thought that Indrek would ever launch an attack on the Tower. She had never imagined that he could become strong enough to do so. They in the Tower completely underestimated the power of fear, and now they might pay a heavy price.

  Neila could think of only one thing at that moment: somehow this craziness had to stop. She was so startled that she did not pay any thought to wonder how Elnor could know any of this. How did he get this information, when her spies came home empty-handed after a while …?

  Abruptly, somebody knocked.

  Neila looked around, startled, as she grabbed the hilt of her sword. She looked at the door, but Elnor only motioned her to relax. He stood up and calmly walked to the window to open it. A black bird flew inside, landing on the table. Its big yellow eyes regarded Neila with unknown intellect. After the kobold shut the window again, he stepped to the bird.

  “So, what have you gathered?” asked the paragon.

  The bird started to gasp. He obviously tried to speak, but so far nothing understandable came out from it. Then it could force out some words, although speaking in half sentences.

  “Scÿta … capture … Guard … Not real …” The bird repeated the words a few times more, then fell silent.

  “What could this mean?” mused Elnor with a confused frown, as he put a little cup in front of the bird from a shelf. It started eating immediately.

  But Neila knew. She turned deathly pale again.

  “They’ve captured Cameron …”

  14. The impossible meeting

  It was raining steadily.

  The fugitive could not hate his bad luck more. He tried to run as fast as he could, but the weather made that impossible. He constantly had to be very careful unless he wanted a broken bone. The earth had become a slippery slide, so sometimes he crawled more than actually ran. The wind strengthened from time to time, blowing the raindrops into his eyes, blinding him. The heavy clouds made everything even gloomier than it already was.

  The man did not know how long he had been running. He only knew that he must go on, no matter what, regardless of his condition; he was exhausted and injured. Overall, he could collapse in any moment.

  He had to go further, nonetheless. He was so close!

  He held his hood with a shaking hand against the wind. Then he stumbled on a rock, lost his balance, and crashed into the mud. His hood fell back, letting the rain soak his hair even more. He tried not to give in to the sharp pain. He had many injuries, since it turned out to be difficult to find what he was originally looking for.

  He swept away the darkness of unconsciousness which slowly crept closer and closer. The fugitive checked one of the pouches on his belt, which held his treasure, the only thing that could still save his life. If he could reach his destination. He somehow managed to not wonder, ‘What if I get caught?’ It would definitely not be pleasant; no need to make it worse with his imagination.

  But he was so tired; he did not know how long he could k
eep up even this stumbling pace. And if he could not …

  I’ll be captured, tortured, and killed, he thought grimly. He sighed, but his lungs objected with a sharp pain. All of his muscles were shaking in exhaustion. He must rest soon, preferably before he fainted.

  He scrambled to his feet and started forwards again. He clenched his jaws in agony, almost grinding his teeth away. He often grunted or groaned, but he was not aware of any of that. He just stared forwards with a firm gaze as he walked. One step before the other: that filled his mind.

  Everything lay silent around him, making him more skittish. Despite the terribly bleak weather on that day, there should be signs of life around him. But he saw or heard nothing, not even a soaked bird’s sad chirp. A bad sign.

  Abruptly, a mean branch caught up in his cloak, jerking him back. He tugged his cloak free angrily, tearing the cloth more. Everything he wore had become filthy and soaking wet by then, not to mention full of holes. One more would not make any difference.

  His treasure meant the only ray of hope. He touched the pouch unconsciously, making sure of its existence. His head had become empty and numb; his thoughts could not even swirl around purposelessly. He just stared forwards, regarding his obstacles with a foggy gaze, then moved slowly through them as if he were jerked around like a puppet.

  In the next moment, he slipped and fell with a faint cry. Everything hurt; he could not get up for a short time. The trees stood silently around him as if they could not care less.

  He stayed down for a little while, but with every moment his heart pounded faster. He was terrified of his hunters, who could not be far behind. They had lost his track for only a breath or two. He did not, could not, believe that he was safe.

  With a sharp inhale, he scrambled to his feet and was on the move again. His vision started to blur, his knees quivered. His body threatened with collapse at any moment. This thought sent a chill down his spine. Regardless, he could not give in to the darkness that whispered to his ears. It called to him with sweet words and promises of rest and peace.