Light of the Dark

by N. Saraven

  “I’ll bet that for her even the Dragonwars are only stories. Kinwa-tales, if I may say so.”

  “Still, you shouldn’t break this to her like that!” snapped Neila.

  “Can I interrupt?” Talek cut in mockingly, which made the mages fall silent. “Thank you. So, you’ve never said a word about how she actually knows our history. I doubt that she’s been here for so long that she could learn to read. Just because she can talk, doesn’t mean she can also read, but even if she can, I don’t think she’s had the time. Furthermore—”

  “Yes, we know what you refer to,” interrupted Neila firmly, fluttering a hand.

  She glanced at Rita, who sat silently in her spot, looking at them. In that moment, it struck her that the girl seemed to be somehow more present now than before As if she actually stepped through the Rim, instead of with her mind. As far as Neila could tell, that is what she did anyway. Now she seemed … ‘thicker’ than before, so it was a fair assumption that she became a permanent resident in the three worlds.

  But alas, Neila had no further time to think about it right now. She had to go with the flow, wherever it took her. All in all, she would gladly stay out of the coming war. Knowing herself, however, she would not do such a thing. Or, knowing the Four, they would not let her.

  Just as if they all were only puppets, with the Gods as puppeteers.

  Anyway, Neila would not just stand by and watch a tyrant take over innocent people’s lives. It would be wrong of her to do so. But first, she had to get at least some things under control again.

  She inhaled deeply and poured herself a stronger-spirited wine. She finished it with only a few gulps. Silence fell on the room, as Neila poured another cup. Everybody looked at her questioningly at this, which made her grunt disapprovingly.

  Then it struck Neila that Talek was still waiting for an answer, so she broke the stillness.

  “But I haven’t answered you,” she said, still in kobold. “This girl had arrived from a world in which our history is written in books. Like a tale, or story. She knows everything, which somebody wrote down …”

  “But … wha—?” Talek blinked.

  “We don’t know either.” Neila shrugged, finishing her cup. The effects of the spirit started to show, since she hardly ate and she felt exhausted. After a little while, she continued, switching to common again. “Well, anyway, I think it is time for us to sit down and really go through the important things.”

  Halgor looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Talek only raised a brow and glanced at Rita. This made the girl very uneasy; she started to panic again.

  Neila knew that look—the look of a fresh soldier who heard too many stories from the seniors, who liked to make a fool of ‘fresh meat’.

  Neila swayed her head. She did not know where all this would lead. Knowing, however, was still better than not knowing.

  19. Forming plans

  Enargit, Halgor, Neila, and Talek stood by the table in the study, on which lay a map of Nimron. They wanted to form a good plan of defence, maybe attack. But after the fourth day of brainstorming, they would have settled with a mere plan. Even a bad one.

  It all started when Arisha’s Chosen One had arrived at the Tower without a word. The Masters only knew about him when the Mist reported the ‘intruder’. Halgor had a hunch beforehand that Enargit might do such a thing, so he ordered the Mist to report every shadow dragon who tried to get in, instead of terminating them on sight—if the Mist could even do such a thing with that dragon … The dark elven did not want to lose their valuable guard, so he made preparations.

  The shadow Leader gracefully announced that he would share his knowledge for the greater good, but only with them. The other inhabitants became completely ignored by him, as if they had turned invisible. The Masters still had to abandon everything right away, just to please the Leader’s every wish. That proved to be a very difficult task.

  For starters, Enargit had a difficult time moving around in the Tower. Especially since shape-changing was out of the question. He would sooner tear out his teeth than put on a lower lifeform’s body, as he put it. At first, he turned himself as small as safely possible, so he could fly around with ease. But soon after, he realised that if he did not want to literally look up to everybody around him, he ought to find another solution.

  Or rather, the Masters needed to.

  He was the valuable guest, he said, handing this ‘little problem’ to the mages to solve. His continuous complaints almost made Neila burst in anger. Before this happened, Halgor made an excuse for her to disappear for a while. Along with Talek, who had a shorter temper in the matter than Neila. After the air cooled down, the elven tried to find a suitable solution for the shadow Leader’s demands.

  What came out of this could be called a ‘dragonman’ of some sort.

  Enargit was walking on two legs with portions somewhat similar to a human, but in every other regard he stayed a dragon. He pointed with his strong talons, he folded his wings on his back. Sometimes he swayed his long tail as he talked. He held his head proudly on his long, lean neck. Every now and then, smoke-strings or puffs found their way out of his great jaws. His red eyes with vertical pupils discovered everything that seemed wrong or mistaken.

  And there were a lot of things that ‘could have been improved’, according to him, at least. Halgor proved to be the most patient with him, but when the dragon started to scold at his life’s work, of which he was most proud, he too started to lose his temper.

  He and Neila always tried to do their best to gain the most valuable and precious books, scrolls, or maps—the best of the best, the rarest, and most treasured. Yet Enargit only frowned at everything, mumbling ‘it will do’.

  Especially when it came to maps.

  “Well now, maybe we can use this piece of paper,” rumbled the shadow Leader after he made Halgor take many and even more notes in their maps.

  It seemed that the elven felt insulted to the core by the reptile’s behaviour. Regardless, his shining eyes showed that he was even more excited about the new knowledge. The dark mage’s hands sometimes trembled.

  The most interesting thing was how this newly acquired knowledge simply became lost in the first place—the true power of lack of interest. Mostly due to humans but other species too. The routes the mages got to know were no secrets, nor protected by spells. They just lay out of the usual circle of trade roads, and the curiosity to discover them again became lost.

  Sorting out the given information took most of the time after the Leader arrived. When he approved of the used map, the companions could finally start the actual work.

  Enargit suggested a long-forgotten castle as headquarters.

  “And you think that place can be held well?” asked Neila, glancing at the dragonman. She jerked her gaze away quickly, however. Even though they had plenty of time to get used to the Leader’s form, it still made her uncomfortable. One time, when the reptile flew out to hunt, Neila confessed that she was really upset about that dragonman. She said it looked as if something had raped Nature, resulting in that thing.

  “Of course. As far as I can tell, nobody remembers that place—”

  “Only Indrek,” cut in Talek with a wry smile, who leaned against the table, looking at the map, uninterested. The dragon gave him a disappointed glance but continued without any further comment.

  “—so it will suit us perfectly. I do not think that you wanted Varomor to be headquarters. Especially since a handful of dragons could hardly fit in here. Not to mention the poor installation.”

  A thin string of smoke spiralled out from between his jaws. The mages had learnt to dismiss his insults. It was not the first, and obviously not the last.

  “Maybe … if what you’ve told us is true, then it seems to be a good place. Nar and Varomor are both easy to reach, and we can make a more direct route with the latter by using magic,” thought Neila out loud, then she rubbed her eyes. She poured herself a mug of the strongest tea they had. I
t usually could make the tiredness, or numbness, disappear.

  They all became exhausted at that point.

  Enargit got in the habit of sitting down. His long neck still hovered above the table. He started to behave less obnoxiously, although he refused to take any drinks or food. He flew out to hunt only once, and he drank the freshest water.

  Halgor once dropped his little strudel in his tea. His eyes seemed baggy, darkened, and sunken. Talek fell asleep in his stand one time; the others had to shake him awake.

  On the other hand, they could not really think about rest. They all felt that they were running out of time, so they wanted to make the most of what little time they had. They had almost nothing—a bunch of wild, untrained dragons that nobody could really praise with the name ‘army’. And a somewhat forming plan of defence.

  Not the brightest future.

  “If the castle stands. Only the Gods know what it had to stand through,” murmured Talek, trying to hold a yawn in.

  “It will, because it is bonded to Lexénia,” mumbled Enargit.

  Neila was about to answer when she heard a noise from outside the corridor. Something burst into the door, then it banged open. The companions looked astonished at the happenings.

  An obviously drained man hung onto the doorknob. Behind him stood Eryn, who looked just as puzzled as everybody else. He stared at his Masters, waiting from them to solve the matter.

  The intruder looked as if he went through the worst in life and got back. He then gained the strength to look up and around. He gave a faint smile, then closed his eyes and collapsed.

  “Cameron!” gasped Neila, jumping to him immediately. She fell on her knees beside him. She held her dearest friend’s head in her hands, incapable of saying anything else. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “What happened? How did he get here?” Halgor stepped behind Neila. The elven seemed unusually pale. The sight of the bright dragon’s obviously tortured body shook even him to the core.

  Cameron wore his human form. One of his arms had broken; it lay in an unnatural angle on the floor. On his left foot the shoe was missing, and his ankle was double the normal size. Bigger or smaller bruises, cuts, and other wounds covered his body.

  Because Neila seemed not to be able to attend him, Halgor took charge. He knelt down, put his hand on the dragon’s head, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He murmured a few words that made most of the wounds disappear. The dragon fell asleep; his features became calm.

  “He must have wounds caused by magic,” the elven murmured, frowning at the remaining bruises on the reptile’s body.

  They would have to use stronger spells to get rid of those. Given the circumstances, it might be wiser to do so and not leave them to heal on their own. The dark mage swayed his head, then turned to the wraith.

  “You should go,” he instructed him, so the apprentice bowed, then disappeared with a word. Even though Cameron lived in Varomor with a few wraiths, they always avoided him at all costs.

  “We should take him to his room.” Halgor touched Neila’s arm, which brought her back to the present. She nodded, hurriedly wiping away her tears. The elven opened his mouth to say the words, but Enargit stopped him.

  “Wait!” he rumbled, as he moved closer. Uncertainty shone in his eyes, mixed with disapproval. Whatever he thought, he did not like it. He turned to the mages. “I guess this is Cameron, who somehow escaped from Indrek’s captivity?”

  The Masters nodded. Enargit crouched on the floor and put one of his paws on the bright dragon’s head. He concentrated with closed eyes for a few moments. After he found out whatever he wanted, he straightened again.

  “You will need to use greater forces to heal him completely.” Enargit swayed his head. He looked deep into Neila’s eyes, obviously believing that she stood the closest to the bright dragon. “Indrek did not let him go untouched. His soul was also tortured. I assume Indrek let him go only because it suited him best.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Neila in a quivery voice. She turned pale again; her eyes widened.

  “Do you know the soultaker spell?” Enargit folded his arms. The fear in the golden eyes, however, made it obvious that this type of magic became lost through the ages. He sighed.

  “The main point is that one takes a piece of another’s soul. The how is not important right now. Indrek tries to influence this bright one.”

  “In what way?” Halgor wanted to know, which made Enargit shrug.

  “Seemingly with nothing, I daresay that in no way. Indrek cannot know in any way what the bright one is doing, or where he is. He can only suggest things, feelings more like. It can be useful to one who has a master knowledge in how to form feelings.”

  “Interesting … I wonder how anybody can affect a dragon’s soul,” mused Talek from behind, who obviously did not believe one word.

  “Do not forget that it is another dragon who holds that piece of soul,” murmured Enargit as he glanced down at Cameron. Something strange shone in his eyes which Neila could not comprehend completely. In every other person, she would say it was compassion, but with Enargit …

  She swayed her head. Anyhow, she had more important things to tend to.

  “Anyway, we need to make Cameron as comfortable as possible. Then, we all need some rest. We shall visit that castle in a couple of days,” said Neila, and she started to chant. She disappeared with the unconscious Cameron.

  After a few moments, only Enargit stood in the study, still staring at the spot where the bright dragon had lain. Then he inhaled as deeply as he could. He already knew what the soultaker spell would bring. It would not be pretty, nor easy for the magi.

  He had come to a decision.

  20. The castle

  Cameron started to wake.

  His mind came around slowly, as the darkness faded away. He could see light through his eyelids, what made him squint a little. The sunrise felt a bit uncomfortable; regardless, it soothed him. Somehow he could not remember the last time he saw the Sun.

  The Sun!

  The thought of it struck him as lightning. He should not see sunlight, or any other brightness in his underground prison cell. Only the darkness lived there, in a form he had never encountered before.

  The light now stung Cameron’s brain, as if it were a golden knife going through his head. He jerked his arms up to defend himself from anything that could come. At his movement, pain flooded his body. He could hardly move, yet he scrambled backwards, hoping to find a wall. He then leaned against it as much as he could. He needed a little rest while he fought hard against his rising panic. He wanted to resist the urge to mindlessly lunge forwards, trying to flee.

  As he rested, heavily breathing, rather than calming down, his mind still painted horrible pictures about his situation. He felt the hard wall behind him, emitting terror as always.

  The Shade!

  Please, not the Shade! his mind screamed, remembering.

  He gave a whimper; his heart throbbed, as if it wanted to break out from his chest. He trembled as he jerked his head around to hear from where the attack would come.

  But nothing happened.

  Cameron’s energy ran out. He could not stand that much excitement anymore. He had to relax his muscles; his limbs still quivered.

  He sat against the wall, hearing only silence besides his heart’s pounding. The dragon tried to calm himself as much as he possibly could at the moment. He knew panic would not gain anything, although convincing his body of that was another matter.

  He felt clearly that something was wrong—nothing happened.

  After a while, he could soothe himself enough to actually comprehend the situation.

  He realised that he sat in a very uncomfortable way, so he took another position. He did not open his eyes yet; the sunlight felt too bright. His every other sense said that no danger lurked around, which became very difficult to believe. Panic rose again in Cameron’s heart, yet he managed to confine it once more. Despite that, he did not feel that
horrid Fear which seemed to live in the stones of the prison. Which became his only companion through the last days.

  Now, the shining felt warm and tender. It even lightened his soul. When Cameron touched the stones, they were also warm. Interestingly, the whole place had the sensation of his home, as if he somehow managed to get back.

  Cameron did not understand. The only way to actually know the truth, he decided, was to open his eyes and look around. Normally, he could form a picture of the place in his mind, but he felt too weak and in pain to do so.

  It took a few tries to get used to the brightness, but he managed. When he finally saw something besides shapeless blurs, his mouth fell open in surprise. He was in his own room, back in Varomor. Safe and sound, in dragon form, nonetheless.

  It could not be true, was his first thought. Indrek had an enormous imagination in how to torture a dragon, so Cameron leaned toward not believing any of this. Fear grabbed his heart at this idea. He saw himself escape so many times before, yet he did not move a muscle. Why would this be the exception?

  The Fear started to close its terrible jaws around the dragon. But then, Cameron shook it off enough to stand up. In that moment, he remembered his broken ankle. Because he felt no pain, anywhere in his body for that matter, he looked at himself. Truly surprisingly, he saw hardly any injuries on his body. Even his mind seemed a bit rested.

  Overall, Cameron felt exhausted beyond reason instead of almost tortured to death.

  “It’s an interesting game from that brute,” he murmured out loud, then he took human form. Even though he never liked this fragile shape, it was necessary inside the Tower. It also seemed more secure than dwarfing himself—he had the chance to fly into a net before, and he never wanted to be in a situation like that again.

  After Cameron regained control of his body and emotions, he started for the door. He had had enough of that room, which seemed painfully real. He pushed down the handle. To his surprise, it yielded. He slipped through after he looked both ways.