The Darkness of Light

by Tammy Farrell

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. Malcolm watched as her eyes shifted to Corbin. Did she not believe his magic would work? Malcolm groaned in frustration, and before Corbin could stop him he pulled Mara by the arm out into the road. “Look,” he said crossly, pointing up the road. Several yards away, near the tavern, stood four drunk guards, taunting and groping at any woman that walked by. Malcolm lifted the hood of his cloak and with a firm grasp on Mara’s hand, pulled her towards them.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to pull her arm free.

  “Giving you your first lesson,” he said, pulling her along until they stood in front of the guards. Malcolm lacked Corbin’s imposing frame, and with his shoulders hunched, he appeared to the guards as a beggar. “Spare any coin, sir?” he asked in his most pathetic voice.

  If the guards spotted Mara, trembling beside Malcolm, they would have certainly turned their attention towards her. But instead, a guard with auburn hair looked directly at Malcolm with disgust. “Get out of here, you dog,” he said, lifting his muddy boot to kick Malcolm.

  Corbin stepped between them. “That’s enough,” Corbin said with his hand up at the guard. He reached into his pouch and pulled out three pence. “Here,” he said, pushing them towards the man. “This should keep you and your men full of ale for the day.”

  Malcolm jerked away from them and stormed off. Who does Corbin think he is to interfere? Malcolm wouldn’t have actually allowed the guard to kick him. He only wanted to show Mara that his magic worked. He paced back and forth as Mara and Corbin approached. “There, do you see?” he said to Mara, more severely than he’d intended. “If they saw you, you would likely be on your back right now.”

  The concern in her eyes quickly hardened. “Yes, I can see that,” she snapped. “And I am grateful to both of you for the gift. But was that really necessary?”

  “I believe it was,” Malcolm muttered, feeling his neck muscles constrict.

  Corbin gave Malcolm a questioning look. “She believed that the magic would work, Malcolm. There’s no need to cause a scene just to prove your point.”

  Malcolm’s head jerked, glaring at Corbin, and then he turned abruptly towards the road. “We should get the horses now if we want to be back by nightfall.” His steps were hurried as they moved through the stalls. Mara may have resented the nature of his lesson, but when he glanced back at her, he could see that she moved with more ease knowing she was veiled. They found the horse trader with the two geldings Rowan had ordered. Malcolm exchanged the gold for the lean, steady looking creatures, as well as two Roman saddles that Roch had not intended to part with, but when glamoured by Malcolm, he seemed more than happy to include them.

  Malcolm said nothing when Mara walked over to Corbin’s black courser and accepted his hand to lift her up, but it did not go unnoticed. He let his gray horse fall back while Corbin’s horse trotted towards Valenia. Was there something budding between those two? With the time to reflect, and suspicion fresh on his mind, Malcolm began to regret his actions in Dunport. He wouldn’t win Mara’s trust if he continued to antagonize her, but her mistrust infuriated him. It was going to take some extra effort on his part to make her see that he was only trying to help her. If Rowan was right and Mara was in fact the Keeper of the coire, he wasn’t about to sit back and watch Corbin, the halfling, benefit from it.

  Corbin wiped the moisture from his brow. So far the early days of summer had been bright and warm, a welcome change from the usual gray fog that rose from the ocean. He took off his linen shirt to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin while he added the finishing touches to the horse stalls on the south side of Valenia. They weren’t as elaborate as he would have liked them to be, but they gave the coursers protection from the elements while keeping them within the veil around Valenia.

  When he secured the last wooden door to the stall and spread hay along the ground, he walked over to the black courser. He’d named the horse Findias, after the legendary city of the gods. Findias was also the place from which came the powerful Dia sword that Corbin carried, given to him by Rowan on his twentieth year. This was no ordinary sword. It had been forged by the gods and could kill as many as six men with a single blow. Corbin treasured that sword as though it was an extension of himself, and so the name Findias seemed fitting for the exquisite black animal.

  Malcolm was out riding the gray courser named after his weapon—the spear of Gorias—which was said to draw forth any man in battle.

  Findias gave a happy, low groan from deep within his throat when Corbin untied him and led him into the stall. “There you go,” he said, lifting an apple to the horse’s mouth. Corbin liked having horses at Valenia. Findias reminded him of his father’s horse. It was a stunning black destrier, the finest of animals, with a muscular frame and wide hoofs covered in soft white hair. It had been a gift to his father from the king after successfully driving the Saxons back to their ships. But Corbin hadn’t seen that horse since it last carried his father away from their village to fight the battle that took his life. And it was not long after his father’s death that the Saxons returned, pillaging his village until there was nothing left.

  At twenty-three years old, Corbin would have already been a soldier, but the years spent with Rowan had consumed what would have been the formative years of his training. He often wondered what his life would have been like had his father survived. They would have likely fought alongside each other and maybe even ruled their own territories in times of peace. But none of that mattered now. He was a Dia, and although he sometimes felt ill-suited to the isolated life they led, his loyalty to Rowan was stronger than his desires.

  Corbin picked up the hard-bristled brush and ran it along the horse’s hip when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Mara, in a dark green dress, standing at the door of the stall. “You built that fast,” she said, stepping closer.

  Corbin nodded and looked around. “I suppose Rowan could have created one, but it’s nice to have something to do around here besides make wooden horses for Isa,” he said with a smile. He reached for his shirt and slid it over his head.

  Mara gave a light laugh and walked up to touch the horse. “Rowan says you’re going to Moorthrop tomorrow to find Magistrate John?” Her eyes darkened as she said his name.

  Corbin nodded, sensing her pain. He stared at her for a moment and then continued brushing Findias. “How are the lessons with Malcolm going?” he asked.

  She tilted her head, impassive. “Fine,” she said. “I can control my Light better now. And Malcolm says I’ve gotten better at veiling myself.”

  “Good,” Corbin replied, remembering the way Malcolm had treated her in Dunport. He was well aware of Malcolm’s ability to lose control of himself at times, but to be so cruel to the girl after all she’d been through was beyond him. Corbin had become skilled at maneuvering around Malcolm’s roguish ways, but Mara was unused to someone so impulsive. “Has he been kind to you?” Corbin asked after a long moment of silence.

  “Yes,” Mara replied with a sigh. “But to be honest, I don’t like the way it feels to use my Light. Making fire is easy enough, but when Malcolm tries to teach me to shift my appearance, I get a sick feeling inside. I think he gets angry with me when I stop trying.”

  Corbin nodded. “Maybe shifting is not an ability you possess.”

  Her pale green eyes were wide, sincere. “Is it different for all Dia?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Malcolm is unique. He has abilities beyond what such a young Dia should have. Rowan precedes him in strength, but not by much. Malcolm should remember that when he’s teaching you. I’ll have a word with him.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Her eyes were on the horse as her hand moved over its soft black mane, but Corbin could see she wanted to say something more.

  He put down the brush. “Would you like to learn to ride?” he asked with a smile.

  Her head jerked up. “I don’t think so. I’ve never ridden a horse by myself.”


  “Another time then,” Corbin said, not wanting to push her. “Have you been through Valenia forest since we’ve been back from Dunport?”

  She shook her head.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  Her lips curled into a pretty smile. “Yes. I’m feeling a bit caged here lately.”

  Corbin gave a quick laugh. “I know the feeling.”

  After he’d secured the latch on the stall, they walked down the gentle slope of grass that led into the forest. They walked in silence a little while, enjoying the cooler air under the shade of the trees. Corbin noticed he was making an effort to keep his eyes forward, avoiding the urge to stare at her. While she was certainly beautiful, she was also the first true Dia he’d ever known since Rowan and Malcolm, and a girl Dia for that matter. He liked the effortless grace of her steps, and the way wisps of her hair rose like swaying leaves around her. But unlike Malcolm and Rowan, she seemed to have a humanity about her, perhaps brought on by a lifetime of believing she was in fact, mortal. Corbin could understand that. In truth, he never quite liked using his powers of Light. And he often wondered if it was more the human part of him that truly governed his thoughts and actions.

  “Rowan says your gift is healing,” she said, breaking the silence. “I suppose I knew that already.”

  Corbin gave a quick nod, recalling the strange vibration he felt the first time he touched her. It was an indescribable pull of her energy on his own, and then it seemed to become a current between them as he held his hands on her to heal the wound. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Because she was unconscious when he healed her, she seemed to have no knowledge of it. But in the few times they touched since then, no matter how brief the exchange, the spark of energy ignited. He never spoke of it with Mara, but the startled flash in her eyes when it happened told him that she felt it too.

  Mara continued, “Do you have other abilities aside from healing? Can you read thoughts like Malcolm?”

  “Not really,” Corbin said. “My mother was mortal, so my Light is weaker than yours and Malcolm’s. I have only glimpsed the minds of others a few times, and only when I healed them.”

  Mara shot him a swift glance and looked down.

  “But it’s only sometimes,” Corbin said. “I didn’t see into your mind, if that worries you.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said. He could hear the relief in her voice.

  Corbin smirked to himself. “I can also veil myself from humans, I have Dia senses, and I can move very quickly.” He flashed her a wide grin.

  “You’re fast?” Mara responded with a mischievous smile. “I might not be great with magic, but I can certainly run,” she said, pushing off the ground with her foot and racing forward.

  Corbin bounded after her, summoning his Light to give him speed, but he couldn’t catch her. She was indeed fast, keeping several yards ahead of him for what seemed like many miles. He certainly hadn’t seen her run like that in Moorthrop, or during her escape from the outlaws. Corbin guessed she was harnessing her Light better than she let on. When he caught up to her she was panting, but more from the habit of the action than true exhaustion. “You are fast,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “But it looks like I’m faster.”

  “I can see that,” Corbin laughed. They were far from Valenia, much farther than he’d intended to take her. It was then he realized he didn’t have his sword. “We should get back,” he said with urgency. But in the distance, they could hear the sound of hooves pounding on the ground, and Corbin thought he caught the faint smell of smoke.

  He put an instinctive arm across Mara to push her behind him, but as the horse came into view, he saw it was only Malcolm.

  They waited as Malcolm slowed the horse to a quick canter. “What’s wrong?” Corbin asked, seeing the frown on Malcolm’s face.

  Malcolm halted the horse and pointed behind him. “There was an attack just up that way. A family. I heard you talking and thought you might be the attackers.”

  Corbin turned to Mara. “You should go back to Valenia. We will go and check it out.”

  She shook her head. “No. I will come with you,” she said. He could immediately see that he wasn’t going to convince her, but he didn’t know whether she was being stubborn or simply afraid to return to Valenia on her own. Corbin motioned for Malcolm to take Mara, and he lifted her onto the horse’s back. Malcolm nudged the horse forward in a slow trot while they listened for any danger hiding in the trees. Corbin raced ahead and then gestured for Malcolm to stop. He tilted his head, hearing labored breathing and smelling the acrid stench of blood. Corbin eased them forward until they could see the bodies strewn on the ground, a dying fire beside them.

  Corbin covered his mouth. It was a grisly scene and when he heard Mara’s muffled cry, he wished he’d insisted that she go back to Valenia. On the ground were the bodies of a man, a woman, and a small boy, dressed in peasant’s clothes. Next to them sat a hand-cart filled with sacks of wild onions and some hand-woven baskets. They must have been heading to the market in Dunport.

  “Who would do this?” Mara sobbed.

  “The most disgusting kind of mortals,” Corbin seethed. He looked down at the woman. She was certainly dead. Her clothes were torn, and a wide gash stretched across her throat. The man, while still breathing, held his intestines as they spilled from the hole in his torso. The young boy lay still beside him, face down in the dirt.

  Malcolm bent down and examined the man. “Corbin, can you help him?” he asked. Corbin knelt down beside the man. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was too shallow. He was beyond the help of Corbin’s Light. “There’s nothing I can do to save him,” he said gravely. This seemed to rouse the man, who suddenly latched a bloody hand onto Corbin’s arm and whispered through the blood in his throat, “My boy. Save my boy.”

  Corbin watched as Mara rushed to the boy and turned him over. “He’s still alive,” she cried out. “I can hear his heart beating.”

  Corbin gave Malcolm a hard look. “Show mercy on this man. We can’t let him suffer like this,” he said. Malcolm nodded, agreeing to use his Light to stop the man’s heart. Corbin watched as Malcolm placed his hands over the man’s chest, and began to curl his fingers as if grasping air. The man’s eyes opened wide in a deathly stare until his heart stopped and the last dredges of life left him.

  Corbin found the boy in worse condition than his father.

  “Please, Corbin. Don’t let him die,” Mara sobbed.

  But even though Corbin tried to revive him, the boy already had a foot across the threshold of death’s door, and he was so weak that’s Malcolm’s mercy wasn’t needed. The boy took his last breath just as Malcolm approached.

  Mara began to weep. “Why would someone kill them? What could they have done?”

  Corbin looked at the two-inch gash through the boy’s chest. “This looks like it could have come from the blade of a sword.” He angrily pushed himself up from his knees. “There must have been soldiers coming through here,” he said. “Anyone else would have taken the cart and robbed them of their clothing and shoes. This is not the work of thieves.” He helped Mara to her feet and found himself putting an arm around her; the energy of her touch felt weak.

  “I’ve never seen soldiers this close to Valenia,” Malcolm said. “Could they have been the guards from Dunport?”

  Corbin shook his head. “They wouldn’t leave on market day. Unless, do you think they were…” Corbin didn’t finish his sentence before Mara caught on.

  “They were looking for me, weren’t they?” She lowered her eyes. “Were they Moorthrop guards?”

  Malcolm shrugged, seeming indifferent to her tears. “They might have been. Or they could have been Dunport guards who’d heard about the reward.”

  Mara nodded. “If that’s the case, then these people died because of me.”

  Corbin shook his head. “No, Mara.” He motioned to Malcolm to take her back. But when Malcolm reached an arm out to her she p
ulled away and said, “We have to bury them.”

  Corbin saw the irritation on Malcolm’s face. “We don’t have time for that. It’s almost dusk and if there are more soldiers out here, we are unarmed,” Malcolm said.

  Mara wiped the tears from her cheeks and hardened her expression. “I don’t care. We can’t leave them like this.” Her tone was insistent.

  Malcolm sighed. “Very well,” he said.

  Corbin was surprised to see how easily Malcolm gave into her, but spent little time on the thought. The three of them each dug a hole, and with great care, placed the bodies in and covered them up.

  “There,” Mara whispered as tears rolled down her dirty cheeks. “Now they’re safe.”

  Mara stared at Valenia. The veiled dwelling in the rock fascinated her now just as much as it had when she arrived months earlier. The true exterior, hidden from human eyes, was magnificent. It wasn’t simply a cavern, but rather a grand fortress molded from an imposing mass of rock.

  The summer months were moving quickly as Mara settled into her new home and became acquainted with the Dia living there. Mara spent much of her time with little Isa, wandering the golden beach and exploring the flat, wooded acres that bordered Valenia. She hadn’t gone any farther than that since they found the murdered family in the forest. The image of the young family, mangled and bloodied, still troubled her, along with the haunting memories of her mother’s own tragic end. Her nights had become a struggle to ignore the visions while her days were spent hoping they wouldn’t return with the darkness. But in spite of these tormenting dreams, Mara felt safe at Valenia, because at least there, she was never alone.

  The sun hung over the unchanging horizon of the sea as Mara and Isa sat on the sand watching the waves. Rowan and Corbin were expected back soon. They rode out often, sometimes for days on end looking for the magistrate of Moorthrop and his sheriff. But they were nowhere to be found, not even in Moorthrop. And each time Rowan and Corbin returned, they had no more answers than when they left. Mara found herself missing Corbin when he was gone. She missed their walks, and the hours they spent on the shore. Corbin was naturally quiet, and sometimes they would just sit there for hours, not speaking a word. But other times his eyes would light up and he would tell her about his father, and the northern realm he once called home.