Under the Shadow of Darkness: Book 1 of the Apprentice Series
Page 14
Bel said, “What?” in a sort of a daze.
“You heard me. Drain his energy. We need it. You can’t kill him. Go ahead. Do it.”
Kerlith looked at Bel and said, “Now this is a new one. Draining energy from the dead?”
They knew all living creatures had life—that was common sense—and magic was merely a manipulation of that life, but to draw life from what was dead? Something just didn’t sound right about it. Kerlith placed his hand on the immobilized boy and pulled in his spirit. He felt energy so he drew on it more, pulling it into himself. Bel stood back and watched, unsure.
Fleck began to laugh, a hideous, gurgling sort of laugh, as his tongue and his mouth were not under his control.
Bel grabbed at Kerlith’s shoulder, nearly ready to fall over. “Are you sure? How does it feel?”
Fleck’s eyes rolled to the outer edge of their sockets and stared up at Bel. He continued to laugh, sucking dust and dirt into his mouth.
“I feel energy. I feel life. But it is… tainted.” Kerlith was initially cautious but then smiled oddly and pulled hard.
The one-armed boy squealed in pain as the color drained from his skin and faded to a deep, dark gray. Kerlith removed his hand from the dead boy whose eyes stared forward vacantly, mouth mumbling, “Bloo. Bloo-da. Nee bloo-da,” unable to properly form the words.
Kerlith said, “It feels weird. It is energy, yes, but I am not sure if that was such a good idea.”
The archmage stood tall. “One last thing, Fleck. If you try this kind of stunt when I am dead, I’ll give you a spanking there too. Okay everyone, there is little time. We must go now while we still can.”
Bel teetered then fell over.
Kerlith said, “Hey, stop fooling around. Oh. Master Archmage, I think your Fifth Year here passed out.”
Alexius and Kephas went to the two men who lay on the ground unmoving. Alexius spoke first, “Wait a moment Master Archmage. I think these two have joined the dead.” Alexius pushed on one of their shoulders with his boot.
One of the freshly dead men began to stir. He coughed a few times then opened his eyes and wiped the dirt from his mouth. He looked up at Alexius then over to Nes’egrinon then sat up. He pulled his arm out of his jacket. “Even in death, my arm is still damaged. It no longer bleeds though. Uhhh, my head really hurts. My chief, oh my chief. Alexius, I have failed you. Please tell my dear Bella that I love her. Please tell her that I fought well. Oh, it is coming. I feel my mind slipping. It is growing hazy. Please, help me stand.”
Alexius lent his arm to his fallen comrade and as he did the other dead man began to stir. Meanwhile, in the distance, the boy with one arm could not stop laughing. The other dead soldier’s eyes snapped open. “What? What happened? My head hurts. Man, oh man.” He reached back and felt the back of his head. “I think I busted my head. Hey Alexius, could you help me up?”
Alexius helped the second man up to a seated position. He squatted down on his knees and looked at him eye level. “How do you feel?”
“Pretty good. My head is pounding. Real hungry too. Man I could use something to drink.” The man’s eyes popped open wide. “Hey, I’m not dead, am I?”
Kephas said, “Do you feel dead?”
“No. I feel pretty alive. Except… the idea of drinking some blood just popped into my head and… Awww man! I am dead!”
“I am sorry, friend.” Alexius stood and held out his hand.
“Get that thing away from me! I’m dead! Thanks a lot!” The dead man stood and rubbed the gash on the back of his head. “You know, just a few minutes ago, when that one-armed nut job came around I was really thinking seriously about getting out of here. I was going to run away. Yeah, that’s it. Run away all the way back to the Keep. But nooooo. I had to stay and help. Now I’m dead.”
The other dead man said, “Don’t be upset. Everyone dies. Let us go on together.”
“With you? I don’t even like you. There. I said it. We have been serving on the same guard for almost four years and I never told you. You know why? You fart too much in the guard shack. I mean, what’s with that? You see me there and then you fart. And what’s worse is that you aim that cannon toward me first. Hey this is not target practice, you know.”
“I’m sorry. You should have said something.”
“Said something? Are you kidding me? What should I have said? Excuse me, please don’t fart when my mouth is open? C’mon! No one has to be told that. And they stunk too. What were you eating? Dead carcass sandwich smothered in sewage stained underwear? And hey, did I say my mouth was open? Yuck! No way am I going anywhere with you and that stench cannon you’re carrying around.”
The first soldier turned to leave, saying, “I must go. I must go from here before the desire for blood overtakes me.” The soldier stumbled off into the darkness.
The other said, “Yeah. Get out of here, stinky. Alexius, I am not happy about this. But, well, what can I do? I am going the other way. I don’t want to bump into stinky out there in the dark. You never know what he’s going to smell like now that’s he’s dead. I mean, he smelled dead when he was alive. Can you image what he’s going to smell like now? Oh well, I’m leaving.”
Nes’egrinon slapped Bel on the face, trying to wake him but he was too far drained, he had given too much of his life-force. He was alive, but close to death.
Kephas said, “If I may make a suggestion? I will stay here with the boy and watch him. He seems to be too far-gone to be of any use to you. Am I right? If he regains consciousness and seems able we will follow after you. And while I am here I can keep an eye on your dead son there too.”
The archmage rubbed his scar and said, “Hmmn. I don’t like it but it looks as if I have no choice. Yes, you stay here with him. We will go on and see what we will see. So soon and we are down to three.”
Chapter 15
The Valley of Death
“What? Where am I?” Bel said as he tried to look around in the blackness. He couldn’t see anything. Somewhere nearby he heard some scuffling and a voice mumbling something about blood. The ghoul-kind! They are close! Keep quiet!
Bel tried to shake the fog from his mind. He felt extremely tired and he had no idea how long he was out. The last he remembered they were just over the peak of a large mountain staring down into a valley and… the breach. Yeah, the breach.
“I remember now,” he whispered to himself. We saw the breach, at least what we thought was the breach. It looked like a large tear. Unnatural. That had to be it. Then… dogs! Oh yeah, the dogs attacked then the one-armed boy from my dreams. I think we defeated him. But Bel wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t remember much about that battle. He said he was Master’s son! Master Nes’egrinon had a son! It became more incredible the more Bel dwelled on it. I wonder if any of the other mage-kind has secret lives and secret children. This changed everything. The world of magic was revealing itself more and more to be not what Bel thought, not what he was taught in school.
“Hey! You’re awake!” Kephas stood over Bel, holding a small torch.
“Kephas, what happened? Where am I?”
“How much do you remember?”
“We were fighting the boy with one-arm.”
Kephas glanced back. “He’s over there. It was tough, but we overcame him. It cost us much though. Two of my friends are dead. And you, well, you passed out afterward.”
“I did?”
Kephas squatted next to the boy. “Yes, I think you drained yourself too much. At least that’s what I overheard the archmage say as they left.”
“Left! They went on without me?”
“Yes.”
“Help me up!”
Kephas grabbed Bel’s arm and hoisted him up into a seated position. “I promised him I would look after you. You were unconscious. Do you think you are strong enough to go on?”
Bel could hear the calls for blood nearby. “I don’t know but—” Bel cut his words short; he was still very dizzy. He didn’t like the idea of goi
ng down there and now he had an excuse not to. And it wasn’t some lame, schoolboy excuse made up to get out of taking an exam; he passed out; it was a totally valid excuse to not go down into the valley and die. It was so very tempting to just lie back down and fall asleep but Bel knew he couldn’t do that. Nes’egrinon was his master; he had to go help him. “I think I can make it. Please, help me up. Which way did they go?”
“Bloo-da! Nee-da bloo-da! Hahahaha!” the one-arm boy shrieked loudly.
“Shut up over there!” Kephas yelled as he hoisted Bel up off the ground. He kept one hand on his arm, as he did not know if the boy could stand on his own. The dim torchlight flickered. “Listen, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You are too weak.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I need to go help them. They need me. They do. They need…” Bel teetered.
“Woah there. Okay, let’s sit back down.” The soldier eased Bel back to the ground and stared at his soft boyish face. “You know you look a bit like Petras. I image at his age he might look like you.”
Bel did not respond. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open at the moment.
“Tell you what. You can take some of my energy. Like your friend did to the dead boy over there. Just don’t take too much. I mean, don’t drain me dead; don’t kill me. Oh boy, am I really going to do this? Alright, listen. Are you in there? Hello? Wake up.” He shook Bel then shook him again.
He opened his eyes slowly, “Hey, Kephas, I need to go help—”
The guard placed his hand on Bel’s chest and said, “Take it. Take some of my energy.”
Bel didn’t do it consciously; he didn’t even know how it happened or why; he didn’t even know it was happening at all. Perhaps it was the thirst for life, the same thirst that the ghoul-kind had, that caused him to drink in Kephas’ life-force, draining the light out of him. Perhaps it was the desire that all living things have to live life, even if it is just for a few moments longer. Bel had once seen a cat catch a bird. Clearly the bird would die; it was in the mouth of the cat and its wings were broken. Even had the cat dropped it there on the ground, the bird would die soon. Yet it struggled on. Did it not know that it would soon die? Yet it struggled because a few more moments of life, even in the mouth of a cat, were better than the darkness of death. Bel unconsciously drank deeply.
Suddenly Bel felt strong, aware and awake, more alive than he had felt in days. He felt full of light, full of energy. He looked down at his arms and they almost glistened. There was a torch lying on the ground next to him so he picked it up and looked around. Next to him lay Kephas. What’s this! What had he done?
Bel shook him and he did not move. A grim foreboding grabbed Bel in the pit of his stomach. What. Had. He. Done?! Bel shook Kephas harder this time.
“Nee-da bloo-da! Hahahaha!” rang out in the silent black.
“Shut up over there!” Bel screamed in a panic as he shook the soldier more and more vigorously. “Don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.”
“Bloo-da! Bloo-da!”
Bel tried to ignore the one-armed boy’s cries. Perhaps he would be quiet if no one paid him any attention. Bel shook Kephas harder then sat back and stared at his body lying prostrate on the dirt, Kephas’ arms and legs in a seemingly uncomfortable position draped over sharp rocks jutting out of the earth. The torch between them was almost out.
Bel choked back a sob. What have I done? he thought.
“Bloo-da!”
Bel stood quickly, grabbed the torch and ran over toward the sound. He looked down at the boy and kicked him square in the back. “This is all your fault!”
“Bloo-da! Nee-da bloo-da!”
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” Bel hated hearing those cries for blood because he suddenly felt no better than him. He needed life so he drained Kephas; he drained him dry. He didn’t mean to do it. He didn’t even know that he was doing it, yet he did it just the same. He was no better than one of these dead ghouls crying out for blood. They were merely articulating their desire a little more obviously, a little more grotesquely, but they were all the same, predators, feeding on each other in one giant game of who can consume whom first. It was that stupid idea they taught the First Years, the great circle of life, but suddenly it didn’t seem so great and Bel was disgusted with himself. He felt like throwing up but he knew his belly had been too empty to do that for a long time now.
“Bloo-da!”
“Shut up, I said!” Bel kicked the boy again, harder this time.
“Hahahaha!”
“Shut it! Just shut it!” Bel kicked him a few more times but then stopped. It did no good. He retreated to Kephas’ prone body and sat next to him. “Why? Why’d you do it? You could have left me here. You could have lived.”
Then Bel saw the most amazing thing. Kephas little finger moved! It was a tiny move, the tiniest of moves, but still, it moved! Bel hunched over him, placing the side of his face just over Kephas mouth, trying to see if he could feel his breath on his cheek. He couldn’t feel anything. I saw his finger move didn’t I? He must be still alive; he must be! Bel put his hand on his chest and pushed a little life into him, saying the mage words of healing. He stopped and waited, hoping against hope that the soldier was still with the living.
Kephas said shallowly, “You’re still here?”
“I don’t want you to die. Please. I can’t be like them.”
The soldier pondered the words, not understanding what the boy meant by them. He was just a simple man, a guard of the Keep of the stonecutters and he did not grasp their meaning. “You must go on. You must help them to close the gateway.”
“I can’t go. Not until I know that you will be alright, not until I know that you aren’t going to die out here.”
“Please. Go. I’ll be fine. I am awake. See? Just go. Go now.”
Bel wiped his face, unsure whether or not there might be a trace of moisture on his cheek. He stood and looked down at the soldier and said, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I feel better already.” But the soldier lied. The echoes of laughter coming from the one-armed boy rang in his ears as he lied. He was not fine. In fact, he was not even alive. He had joined the dead. He was one of the ghoul-kind. But for all his strength and fearlessness in battle he did not have the courage to tell the boy who so looked like his younger brother.
Bel wanted to believe him. He needed to believe him although in his spirit he knew his words were false. He turned his head and looked down at the breach then back once more. “Okay then. I am going to go help them. As long as you are alright.”
“I’m fine. Go, please go.”
It was then that Bel truly realized what had happened. He could not look at Kephas anymore, so he quickly turned, not saying another word, and started his journey down the mountain, down into the valley of death.
*****
Down in the valley, Nes’egrinon, Alexius and Kerlith were near the base of the mountain. The slope was leveling out and there were ghoul-kind milling about everywhere. Some asked them for blood but they were mostly the calm type and did not attack. Many wore clothing that Kerlith had never seen before. A few items reminded him of something that he had heard his history teacher describe, at least what he imagined that it would look like, the clothing of peoples from the forgotten times, many, many generations past. Most of them that asked for blood spoke in an unintelligible speech, some in languages that almost didn’t seem as if they could be languages, clicks, snaps and beeps. But they knew what the dead were saying; they knew what they were asking for. Up ahead the crowds thickened and the three quickly realized that they would have to wade through hundreds, if not thousands of the ghoul-kind to reach the entrance.
Nes’egrinon said, “Alexius, Kerlith, gather round.”
The old wizard grabbed their hands and slowly chanted in the old tongue, “
rstand what the magic would do, the old man began to fade. “
Kerlith said, “You two are disappearing. What manner of magic is this?”
Alexius said, “You too. I can still feel your hand but I can’t see you anymore. You’re gone!”
“Quiet you two,” Nes’egrinon said. “Obviously it’s invisibility magic. Don’t have to be a genius to figure that out. Something you stone heads never seen before, ehh? That’s because it’s not stone magic. Anyway, stick close. Don’t get lost. They can’t see us but we can’t see each other either.”
The mage placed Alexius’ hand on his shoulder and Kerlith’s hand on Alexius’ shoulder and began wading through the sea of dead. He sometimes had to push them out of the way with his staff but they tended not to mind too much. The closer they came to the breach, the thicker the throng of ghoul-kind and the more they had to plow through, pushing the dead bodies out of the way more and more forcefully.
Even though Kerlith had his hand on the archmage’s shoulder and he could feel Alexius’ hand on his, he felt like he needed to speak, if for no other reason to at least hear his own voice, to remind himself that he was actually there. It was too surreal. He had often imagined the dead as ghosts, that’s the way many of the stories went anyway. They called them shades or shadows, but here they were, in the middle of them, and the dead were more substantial than the living. Kerlith could not see himself and he felt more and more like a ghost and saw the dead more and more as the living.
“Master Archmage?”
“Sshhh.”
Kerlith whispered lower, “I’m sorry but I have to ask.”
“Can’t you keep quiet? What is it?”
The apprentice asked, “I thought we would have come across the other masters by now. Master Rylithnon and his companions.”
“And do you think I know something about that?”
“I don’t know. I just thought, yeah, I thought you might know something.”