Between Darkness and the Light

by Paul T. H. Mitchener

  “So what keeps you up at this hour?” he asked. Sophia pulled her cape over her shoulders in a vain attempt to ward off the cold night air. “My sister,” she replied, looking over to her. “The Moonstone has taken much more from her than we can see.” She paused a moment, now looking sadly into Mylon’s eyes and for a brief moment there was a connection. Mylon cleared his throat. “We’ll give her as much rest as we can… but we have to set off as soon as the others return.” Sophia shook her head. “I fear that rest alone is not enough… She needs time to heal… a lot of time.” She put her hand on her heart. “Here,” she said. “The damage is far too deep.” With that, she walked off, leaving Mylon standing alone. He watched as she walked away: she was such a beautiful woman, a total contrast to Bree. Bree was young, bubbly and so full of life, whereas Sophia was restrained and elegant, and for the first time in his adult life his emotions were confused. Why was he feeling this way? He sighed. “Women,” he said out loud and then walked off to speak with his men.

  Bert and Alk were making good time. They had both decided to stay on the main track that ran through the centre of the woodland to the town. It was something of a gamble, considering the risks, but time wasn’t on their side. They needed to get to the town and to Henry senior before Alfwald had the chance to get to him and get his hands on the spearhead. At which point Alfwald would probably be at liberty to dispose of Henry. Little did they know that Henry senior had already left the town and that the spearhead was now safely in the hands of his nephew.

  Ben, however, was nowhere to be seen: he had disappeared without a word some hours ago. Bert never usually worried about him, but the woodlands were not as safe as they once were – in fact totally the opposite, as danger could be lurking behind every tree. Bert was angry with him for wandering off without saying a word to them, but Ben was Ben: he would do whatever took his fancy, and whenever, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to change his stubborn nature. Not that he wouldn’t want to: like Ben, he was just as he was. Alk, however, had no such worries. He had spent his time with Bert going over possible scenarios once they reached Henry’s house. They both agreed that there was a strong possibility of a trap. Henry was important to the dark one: he had something it wanted desperately and it would do anything in its powers to get to it.

  Alk hadn’t stopped talking since they set off and Bert found that he wasn’t listening most of the time. He had heard all he needed to hear and wasn’t interested in going over it time and again. His mind was on Ben: he had hoped that he would be back by now, but there was still no sign of him. “Are you with me, man?” Alk blurted out. Noticing that Bert wasn’t listening to him, Bert turned to look at him, but instead of answering, he said, “I’m a little worried about the whereabouts of my old mate, Ben.” Alk gave a mock laugh. “Get a grip, man… it’s just a flaming dog … Dogs don’t get lost… Besides, we have more to worry about than a lost dog.” Bert was beside himself with rage and without thinking grabbed Alk by the collar and lifted him clear off the ground.

  Alk wasn’t slow to react and instinctively pulled out his long knife and held it against Bert’s chest. “He’s not just a bloody dog,” Bert said, ignoring the knife and spitting in Alk’s face as he shouted, “He’s a guardian…! He’s more than that… he’s my bloody mate… my best mate!” Alk didn’t reply and held Bert’s glare. Seconds passed before Bert put Alk back on the ground. Alk, being an elf, wasn’t tall but he was stocky and had a powerful form, and for someone to have the strength to just lift him off the ground like a child alarmed him considerably. Alk re-sheathed his knife and neither said anything, both weighing each other up. Then suddenly a voice from out of the undergrowth growled: “If I knew you felt that much for me, Bert… perhaps I should have brought flowers.” Ben trotted out onto the track and stood a few feet away. “Where the bloody hell ave you been…? I’ve been worried out me mind!” Bert shouted at him. “Now, now, Bert don’t go getting yourself in a tizzy… You know it’s not good for someone of your age.” Bert was livid and was about to give Ben a piece of his mind when Alk interrupted him. “Where have you been?” he asked calmly.

  Ben sat back and scratched behind his ear before answering. He was now starting to annoy Alk as well. He had always been an irritating individual and loved to play on it. “I… my good friends have been scouting ahead… and I can tell you now that our journey has been a total waste of time.” Bert was about to ask “why?”, but Ben interrupted him again. “Because, my friends… he is not there.” It all went quiet. “Who’s not there?” Alk asked. “Henry’s uncle, of course… who else are we looking for?” He paused and walked up to Bert. “Sorry, old friend… I didn’t mean to cause you concern… but you’ll have to admit I’m a lot quicker than you two… So I decided to make sure that all was safe ahead.” He paused again, this time to check out one of his paws. Moments went by. Alk and Bert glanced at one another impatiently and then back at Ben, who seemed totally oblivious to the fact that he was still keeping them waiting.

  It was Alk who spoke first. “And,” he said sternly. Ben looked up. “And what?” he replied, although Bert was pleased to see his lifelong companion back safely, he knew Ben better than any man alive and knew how he liked to play games with people, no matter how serious the situation. Bert leant forward, becoming more irate and impatient by the second. “Just tell the man what ya know,” Bert said, trying to hold back his increasing anger. Ben just sat back looking from face to face. “If I must,” he sighed. Bert was on the brink of losing it with him. No matter how many years he’d known him, Ben knew exactly how to rub him up the wrong way. Alk, seeing the rage in Bert, took hold of his arms and shook his head. Both stood back and waited until Ben was ready to speak.

  “Now that I’ve got both your attentions… I will continue.” He paused again, this time to pull a stick from his tail. Both Bert and Alk were now at boiling point. “He’s left for the woodlands… with another man,” he said, sniffing at the stick he had just pulled from his tail. “A tall, skinny chap… wearing Army clothes.” He paused and looked up at Bert. “Remind you of anybody?” Bert took a deep breath and sighed. “James,” Ben nodded. “I followed them for a while until I was sure where they were going…They’ve gone to the Hollows.” Alk had no idea what or where the Hollows were, but Bert did and he didn’t look to be too happy about it. “Why would they be going there?” Bert asked, but to no one in particular. “Where… or what are the Hollows?” Alk asked Alk. Surprised, Ben answered. “A nasty and most unpleasant part of the woodland some miles to the west of us.” Alk looked to Bert to elaborate further.

  “’Tis a place poisoned by dark magic.” He paused to see if Ben wanted to say something more, but instead he was too busy cleaning himself. “Vampires and other nasties lurk in every shadow… Everything ya see could kill ya… even the plants,” he joked. “So there must be a really good reason for them to go wandering off in that neck of the woods… Henry ain’t known for his bravery, that’s fer sure.” Alk looked around them. They were still standing in the middle of the track and out in the open for all to see. “Let’s get off this track,” he said, almost as an order. Ben looked up. “Yes, sir,” he said sarcastically, and then trotted off into the undergrowth. Alk watched after him. “Rude little creature, isn’t he?” Bert smiled. “Na… he’s alright… you’ll learn to like him… It takes a little time, that’s all,” he said. “Shouldn’t we be following Henry to the Hollows?!” Alk shouted. “We are!” Bert shouted back. “Where did ya fink we were going?”

  It was mid-morning and the sun had broken through the rain clouds, evaporating the rainwater and making the air around him feel thick, humid and heavy, which unfortunately didn’t help the gloomy mood Henry was in. That night he had walked off after taking James’s life. He had to get away and find a little space to try and get his head around what he had just done, and to recover from the use of the two powers. He felt at one time as if he was losing his mind. He needed sufficient time to try an
d compose himself and find a little of his old self again. He could never explain how it felt using the two powers. Both powers tried to take control over the other, and it was only his will, and his will alone, that kept them apart. The Aelfgar was trying to rip his and James’s soul apart, whilst the Wyvern fought to protect them.

  It took a few hours before Henry felt that he was strong enough physically, if not mentally, to return to where James’s body lay. He stood for a moment looking down at his lifeless form. Never in his wildest dreams would he have believed he could have taken a man’s life. It was, however, necessary and the right thing to do, for in reality James was lost the moment his body was poisoned. But that gave Henry little comfort: no matter how you looked at it, he was the one who had taken his life.

  Mid-morning found the four of them traipsing through the tall, rain-soaked ferns. Having taken the time to cover James’s body temporarily with light rocks and branches, they knew that they would have to come back later for him, but for now they needed to concentrate on what lay ahead. Grog and Nog took the lead, knowing the area like the backs of their hands – they knew the safest and most direct route out of the Hollows – followed closely by Henry senior and his nephew bringing up the rear. Nobody had said anything for some time, each in their own thoughts.

  Henry tried his best to block out the thoughts and visions of the previous night, and instead tried to replace them with thoughts of Bree. Luckily, the mere thought of her helped lift his spirits and warm his heart. At one point he even found himself smiling just thinking of her. His uncle was also still trying to come to terms with the fact that James was now dead and that his nephew Henry was the host master. He had strong misgivings at first, thinking that his nephew was far too weak, but witnessing the strength his nephew showed when controlling two of most powerful forces he had ever known… both at the same time… and still surviving both mentally and physically not only surprised him, but also impressed him immensely. He no longer doubted Henry’s ability… or his right to be the host.

  The morning wore on, their journey made difficult by the denseness of the undergrowth. They were weary, wet and hungry, and it wasn’t until noon when they finally emerged into a clearing. The sun beamed through the open branches of the surrounding trees, giving beams of dappled light. The air was not as humid as it was within the ferns, and it felt good to be out in the open again, Henry was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the dense undergrowth, and was relieved to be free of it: he breathed a sigh of relief. Henry senior was standing in the centre of the opening just looking around when Grog asked if he would help collect a few logs.

  Henry senior was a little put out by the request but grudgingly obliged and went about collecting lumps of wet timber and chucking them haphazardly into a heap near the edge of the clearing. He’d had dealings with Grog and his brother a long, long time ago, in another era and another lifetime, when the world was a much simpler place to live in. A time when everything was in balance, birds, mammals and people alike, living together in harmony alongside magical creatures such as nymphs, elves and fairies. Without commenting on the poor arrangement of the timbers, Nog went about rearranging them into a neater pile, and, using the same technique as Hazel to light the fire, Grog had dragged several larger logs up to the fire and placed them around it for something to sit on.

  A little while later they were all settled and sitting around the fire enjoying its warmth. For some time, all four found themselves just staring into it, watching the frames dance as they turned into tiny, glowing embers that floated up to the skies and disappeared. At first no one spoke, still deep within their own thoughts. Henry’s thoughts, however, were not on the moment or on poor James. He was, of course, deeply upset and damaged by the experience, but that was in the past and nothing could have been done about it. His mind was now on the safety of Bree and his mother: that alone would have been enough to worry about, but he had a much bigger worry. He was still trying to prepare himself mentally for his meeting with the shadow master.

  Time drifted by and it was Grog who spoke first. “Master,” he said gingerly, knowing how much his master had on his mind. Henry at first didn’t respond, too deep in his own thoughts. “Master,” he said again. This time, Henry looked up, resigned to the fact that they would always address him that way. “You did what was right… what was necessary,” he said sadly. Nog nodded in agreement. “You were very strong, master,” he said after a brief pause. “They’re right, you know.” His uncle agreed. Placing one hand on his shoulder, Henry turned to him and tried a smile and then turned back to watch the fire, back into his dark thoughts.

  He was so desperate for all of it just to go away and let him be… But at the same time he knew that he would have to face up to his fate sometime and that sometime was now. That much didn’t really concern him: he knew that he had enough strength to protect himself against the dark one, but James kept creeping back into his mind. “But it didn’t… it doesn’t feel right,” he said, almost to himself, not knowing how he must be feeling. They looked at each other, but no one knew what to say or how they could help him. Henry senior decided suddenly to try and brighten up the mood.

  He stood up abruptly. “Right… who’s for lunch?” he said cheerfully. With that, he reached into the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a number of chocolate bars and handed them around. Grog and Nog took them and sat looking at them, having never seen a chocolate bar before. Henry senior opened his whilst showing Grog and Nog how to open theirs. Henry, however, just sat looking at his. His uncle sat back down next to him. “Eat up, my boy… You’re going to have to eat something sooner or later… and what better than a nice bar of chocolate?” Henry looked back up at his uncle and smiled. “Thanks, Unc,” he said weakly. “Thanks for being here for me.” His uncle slapped him on the back. “Think nothing of it,” he said, trying to sound cheerful and supportive. “Eat up.”

  However supportive he may have sounded, he was only there with his nephew by chance. He had to recover the spearhead one way or another, and his motives from there on in were to say the least a little uncertain. The dark one had already told him in no uncertain terms that life would not be worth living if he didn’t give up the spearhead to it, and he knew that Alfwald was stalking around somewhere within the woodland. It would only be a matter of time before he ran into him, so to say that he was there for his nephew would be a lie. He did, however, feel a great deal of relief knowing that he was no longer responsible for the spearhead, and in fact that it was now in its righteous place… mounted on its staff and in the hands of the host master.

  After seeing the power and strength of young Henry, he had decided that he had to stand with him. He would be the first to admit that he was never the most reliable of allies, but this was different. Henry was family and he would never stand on the sidelines and watch someone he loved put themselves in danger without being there for support, and to his surprise and for the first time he realised that he did indeed love his nephew.

  The day wore on, and as night fell Henry found himself again lying awake staring up through the trees at the clear night sky. He was in awe of the number of stars there were: having lived in a town with street lights all his life he had never had the opportunity to see the stars as they truly were… Amazing. He glanced over to the now dying fire and to the three huddled shapes lying around it. His uncle and the others had settled down sometime ago and seemed to have fallen asleep quite quickly. As he looked at the two large shadows of Grog and his brother, he wondered what they were truly about. The Nosferats certainly didn’t want anything to do with them. Although they hadn’t said as much, he knew that it wasn’t him that had scared the Nosferats away. There must be something about the two brothers, something special. But there was something else: despite their cute appearance, he was sure that they were a formidable pair.

  Finally, after hours of tossing and turning, Henry fell into a restless sleep, and despite the cool, crisp night air, sweat poured down his f
ace as his thrashed from side to side, mumbling to himself. A voice echoed over and over in his head. “Be strong, boy… you did what was right… you saved a man’s soul.” Images of blue flashing lights and dark figures filled his mind, then the voice again: “Just over two thousand years ago a wise and wonderful man once said Do not fear the man who may take your life… but fear the man who may take your soul… So, what is done is now done… Your mind should be on what lies ahead…You will not be alone, I’ll be with you to help in your fight… but you must be strong.”

  Breathing heavily, Henry sat up abruptly. He looked around him, sweat pouring down his face, but he was relieved to see the reassuring presence of his uncle and his two new friends huddled up asleep. The fire had died and there were signs that dawn wasn’t far away. Birds were singing as the faint light of morning rose behind the trees. Taking deep breaths, Henry sat for a moment still a little disturbed by the voice in his dreams. It wasn’t a voice he had heard before but for some unexplainable reason he knew whose voice it was… It was his father’s voice… Alfwald. Why on earth would Alfwald be speaking to him? He had never known him other than meeting his shade. Questions flooded his mind. Firstly, if Alfwald was serving the dark one, why would he be offering to help him to fight it, especially after hurting Bree the way he did? And the warning he gave him, that everything in his life would be taken away if he didn’t join him – he also wondered how he knew it was his father’s voice in his dreams, never having met him in life. At first, he decided to dismiss it all and put it down to being mentally tired… However, after meeting Acca he knew better than to just dismiss voices in his head… It was his father speaking to him… But again, why?!