The Darkling

by K L Hagaman

  even if it was only subconsciously. But he’d been too distracted—too disconnected from weaving for too long for the magic to be as plain as it was now.

  The weaver had been waiting.

  Oscine had even made light that day, joking that she hadn’t needed eyes to see them.

  Lilja would have thought that all sounded a bit farfetched, even trusting Kaden how she did; birds could just be birds after all. But she’d seen that one burst into dust at his very command with her own eyes. She’d watched it disintegrate.

  “What did you do to it?” she wondered.

  “I broke the enchantment.”

  The art of dispelling weavings was the first thing he’d learned when he could stomach magic enough to take up his studies again. The decision to restart his education there was an obvious one, he felt.

  “So how do we—how do we know what’s really a bird and what’s not?” she asked between racing breaths. That was a troubling thought that had her eyes careful on the canopy above though she was watchful of her footing. Sinister winged creatures suddenly felt everywhere— inescapable in the woods, tracking them.

  “Well,” he figured. “Birds don’t usually seek people out and stick around, ya’know?” So that’d be their first hint. Not the wild ones there in the forest anyway.

  “Fair enough,” Lilja gave in a heavy breath.

  They kept at a good trot for most of the afternoon until they reached the absolute edge of the woods, and there they finally stopped for a rest, sharing some water as they caught their breath.

  Before them lay the Vast. Well, a small spit of it. Dorai was just beyond the horizon, a little more to the west and a pinch to the north. It wouldn’t take too terribly long to reach their destination. In fact, thanks to their sprint, they might even arrive shortly after nightfall the next day.

  But they were about to be terribly exposed during the crossing without the shelter of the forest. And they both knew it.

  It wasn’t a good time to be the prey.

  “Well,” Kaden sighed, looking across the Vast. “At least there’ll be no birds to worry about.”

  Lilja glanced at him with a roll of her eyes, not always appreciating his silver-lined mentality, and set off without him.

  With a grin, he corked the water and followed suit.

  They walked on seemingly undisturbed and made good time despite the rain that finally developed from the ever thickening mass of clouds above. The precipitation was light, but it was cold and steady. Kaden had taken the tent off his pack at one point and unrolled the rainproof tarp from it, covering Lilja to help keep her dry, insisting he was fine himself much as she disagreed.

  Before they knew it, long as the day had been, the sky was filled with more darkness than light and they were forced to stop for the evening.

  They pitched the tent, small to say the least, and draped the tarp Lilja had been using overtop before ducking in themselves as the rain carried on. They huddled together for warmth, as a fire was out of the question—there was nothing to burn this far out and no way to keep any flames dry even if there had been. Not to mention, the light of a flame would signal a presence to anybody looking for one.

  After having eaten their modest supper, they settled down for the night, close together as they mumbled there in the dark, discussing different things—nothing in particular and yet everything at the same time.

  It was nice, honestly, this time alone in the stillness, despite them both knowing the time was nothing more than the eye of the storm.

  At sunrise they packed up and started off again, making decent time through the Vast, and eventually found the ground beneath them growing even more barren as the clouds overhead dried out.

  They’d reached the sandless deserts that made up their neighboring territory.

  By dusk, after another long day of walking, the blazing reflection of the setting sun on the domes of the Dorai territory ahead signaled the final stretch of their trek like a steady beacon.

  “Do you think it’s possible Palu managed to already send word?” Lilja wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know. We’d be lucky if that was the case—there’d be a lot less to explain.”

  Lilja let out a quiet sigh, and not for the first time. Kaden cut his eyes to her. “You holding true, my Princess?”

  The look he received was a unique one. It was neither sarcastic, honest, nor a bold-faced lie. So where did that land such words?

  “I’ll be better when this is over,” she answered in a tone most outside herself as her stress and anxieties resurfaced the closer they drew to Dorai.

  Kaden had parted his lips to reply when he first heard it, or rather felt it.

  With a quick hand to her wrist, he suddenly stopped her walking and looked down at the dry, cracked ground that the Vast had given way to as they encroached the next territory.

  The pebbles and rocks, the very dust of the earth, started bouncing in time with a low rumble.

  A low rumble that grew.

  “A craft?” Lilja worried, eyes springing up to the sky. It was overcast and nearly dark now, making visibility all but an empty wish. Whoever was flying must have been doing so without lights for her and Kaden to have not seen their coming before now—their heat-sensors engaged for stealth. Usually standard patrols didn’t worry about such things, stripping the hope of the ship being of Dorai before such a seed could take root.

  This spoke ill…It spoke of the Faithful.

  Kaden was of the same mind. “Run,” he told her starkly, taking off after his hand slipped from her wrist into hers to drag her along if need be.

  On cue, the clouds just behind them parted as a shuttle forced its way down through curled wisps of vapor, having spotted them—the faint emblem of the Wys on the vessel’s belly solidifying their fears.

  Though they ran, Lilja and Kaden were obviously no match for the ship’s speed, and before they knew it, pips of dry ground were exploding around them with an acoustic accompaniment most violent.

  Kaden tugged Lilja in front of him as they ran. “Keep moving!” he shouted over the raining shots while he shielded her from behind as much as he could.

  With the sudden flurry of aggressive activity, it didn’t take long for the Dorai to notice the trespassers. Princess and Keeper could see the lights of more ships streaming out of the domes ahead and towards them.

  “Your comm!” Kaden shouted to Lilja.

  She spun her pack around to her chest as they ran. It slowed them down a notch, but it was a necessity lest they fall victim to more sets of cannons.

  With a whistle for attention, she tossed it back to him to be caught seamlessly. With a deft thumb, the Keeper flicked on the radio and heralded their hopeful saviors.

  “Dorai! Princess Lilja Ade of the Wys is on the ground! Hold your fire! We’re under attack from the tailing craft and need aid!” he repeated over and over in shouts and pants, until a response finally cut him off.

  “Understo—“

  There was a harsh burst of a growl behind Lilja as the comm became nothing more than a casualty of war—shot out of the Keeper’s hand and flung through the air as just a piece of shrapnel.

  The cry had her jerking back despite the wave of shells pouring down on them.

  “Kaden!?” she bellowed over the shower in concern.

  “M’fine! Just the comm! Keep moving!” he ordered, shoving her to spin her forward and out of the way.

  They ran on until the wake of the Dorai’s shuttles sent their hair dancing.

  “Don’t stop,” Kaden warned in a raspy voice all the same. This wasn’t over—they were still in range. She wasn’t safe yet.

  She turned at his voice, alarmed by its weakness only to be harshly spun back around and pushed on yet again. He didn’t need her concern right now. He needed her to keep moving. He needed her safe.

  Behind them, as the crafts of neighboring territories met, the bullets ceased and a brief standoff took place. But without any radio, the pair on t
he ground were strangers to the exchange held up above. In the end though, as one lone ship of the Faithful was vulnerable to an entire fleet and out of bounds to boot, it wasn’t surprising they retreated without much of a clash.

  The ground ports of the domes opened for foot traffic and Lilja could make out dark silhouettes against the bright lights pouring out as more help came. She slowed, knowing it now safe to catch her breath with the Faithful retreating and the Dorai ahead. But when she turned to her Keeper he wasn’t there.

  “Kaden?” she called, eyes darting around in confusion. A confusion that led to panic.

  As the Dorai came upon her, she was running back the way she’d come. “I need your light!” she begged of them as an otherworldly and intuitive dread gave rise in her throat that spoke only of an ominous omen.

  Through the chaos, a dark lump on the otherwise flat and bare terrain caught her eye and she sprinted towards it. But when the lights behind her caught and reflected off his golden hair, she ran even harder.

  “Kaden!” she shouted, sliding to her knees in haste to be by his side as dry earth plumed around them. His normally charcoal uniform over his left shoulder was black and glistening by way of the lights bouncing behind her. As her hand ran over him there in examination, the matter was warm and wet.

  It was blood. And a lot of it.

  “I need help!” she shouted over and over, summoning whatever Dorai would come in a ravaging panic.

  “Kaden!” she called to him, her rubied hands cradling his face to search for the light in his dimming eyes—eyes swimming lackluster about her face, try as he might to anchor there.

  “Kaden! Kaden—I need you to listen to me,” she begged tenderly through trembling lips. “You’re going to be alright.” He needed to believe that. She needed to believe that as she brushed a hand back through his hair, dying his curls with a heinous dark color most unnatural to him.

  Kaden managed to focus on her for a moment as the lights of those running towards them bounced off her face. She looked so afraid…He hated it. But with breath scarce and heart slowing, no words could come to soothe. So, making a gesture while he at least had that strength, he rose his hand, brushing his fingers over her chest and her heartstrings, to remind her, just in case…just in case she ever thought he’d ever leave her.

  Chapter Six

  The Towen

  Taken in by the Dorai, her Keeper was cared for as best as he could be. They said he’d been hit by a splinter shell—a shell she knew had been meant for her. On impact the bullet had penetrated and exploded, shredding the muscles of his left shoulder. He’d lost quite a bit of blood, and they were working to salvage the arm. But having seen the appendage herself, Lilja knew such a thing was hopeless.

  He’d lost an arm, literally been dying, but he’d kept on her heels to protect her for as long as his body allowed—his will pushing even beyond that. How he’d lasted as long as he had for her, Lilja couldn’t understand.

  By the blood in his veins, her life had come before his…

  The Dorai tried to have Lilja clean up and offered a change of clothes, stained in red as she was from holding her Keeper in her arms, but she’d refused to leave the medical wing. So, there she sat on a bench in the corridor, Kaden just behind a pair of clean, white doors to her right where they were attempting to salvage him, surrounded by strangers and soldiers of the Dorai—all confused as to how this event had even come to be.

  A sudden shift in the presence around her made the Princess look up just in time to see the king streaming down the hall towards her. She steadied herself with a deep breath and wiped her face clean with a firm brush of her hand before standing to meet him. Though truthfully, the gesture only served to

  smear more dry and flakey blood over her skin.

  “Princess Lilja Ade,” King Suna greeted respectfully but in grave and stern curiosity with a hand outstretched. There was much to give account for.

  Lilja would have offered her own hand freely in return as was custom, but as it was tarnished with her love’s blood, she settled on showing her tainted skin in apology with a gaze most distant.

  Suna’s face fell at the sight, and he reached out and took the dirtied hand, placing his other over it in a firm grip of compassion.

  Suna was a good man and had been a dear friend of the family ever since his wife had passed many years ago. He’d often boasted that her father, Jahi, had always loved him with the heart of a brother—a kindness that would never be forgotten.

  She hoped he’d meant that.

  The king was modest in height, no taller than the Princess, but about a decade older. His skin was honeyed and his bronze beard bushy, yet kempt. His eyes, though they were green, reminded the Princess of her father with their warmth and wisdom.

  They’d truly been kindred spirits.

  “Perhaps we should talk someplace more comfortable. We’ll get you cleaned up and fed.” As eager as the king was for answers, he didn’t expect them at the Princess’s detriment, and she very obviously needed tending.

  “Not until he’s out,” Lilja said of her Keeper.

  Suna’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he nodded in agreement after a brief glance at the doors beyond them.

  Together, a king and a Princess waited in patient silence until the doors finally opened and a medic came out. He’d been kind enough to strip himself of his bloodied attire beforehand, but his trousers and shoes were still tinged with clay-like stains.

  Lilja took a step forward, her brow rising attentively as she waited for word—her stomach lurching in that moment with such a pitch that she thought she might be ill.

  “He’s stable and resting,” the medic spoke firstly to assure, seeing her visible anxiety, though his tone hinted of the coming but.

  Lilja’s heart began sinking bellow depths she couldn’t define.

  “But I believe he needs the Towen of Shinrin to remain that way,” he shared with the king and Princess solemnly.

  “The Towen?” Lilja questioned sharply. But that meant moving him. And far. And it meant…

  “—And the sooner the better. The damage to his shoulder is more extensive and…complicated than we though. We can do nothing more for him here. If you wish for him to even have a chance to use his arm again—to even keep it,” he added more realistically, “he needs to be moved.” It was the wisest course of action.

  Technology, as vast and powerful as it could be, still had its limits. But the Towen of Shinrin—they were curious creatures with likewise curious abilities. Unlike weavers, who acted as conduits of magic, the Towen were magic.

  Some believed they had been born from the very breath of life itself—beating as one in some sort of majestic and mystical harmony that granted them permissions out of the ordinary—one being the fact that their lifespan was double that of a human. What they were rumored to be able to do…shattered the realm of reality the rest of the world believed in.

  If the medic thought Kaden needed one, it meant he needed a miracle.

  He had to go, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to go with him. She would have to stay. She had to discuss with the king all that had transpired in their territory and the war she’d brought to his border. The war she was to invite him further into.

  But…the Towen were also very particular when it came to healing—more specifically when it came to whom. They believed nature had a course to run, and they shied away from meddling with such a path.

  “What makes you think they’ll help him?” Lilja wondered. The medic seemed so sure.

  “I know magic when I see it,” he answered. “Your Keeper is close to their kind. They’ll help him.” If magic chose to reside in him—had set him apart in that way, the Towen would honor that. And Kaden.

  Her heart tore, and she caught her hand raising up and nesting over her heart and its strings.

  “Can I see him first?” she wondered distantly in a soft voice as she worked to take everything in.

  The medic took in a deep
breath, seemingly unsure, but in the end bowed his head in permission. “I’ll set to making the arrangements with Shinrin.”

  Lilja thanked the medic before excusing herself from king Suna and slipped beyond the doors that for now, her Keeper rested behind.

  A few other medics were cleaning up, sanitizing instruments and the rest of the room as Kaden lay in the middle of it all on the stretcher he’d been brought in on. The bedding had yet to be changed and was still reddened by his loss.

  He looked pale still. And those ridiculously blond curls of his were tarnished with a crusted brown.

  If the medic hadn’t told her he was stable, she’d have thought the worst.

  Kaden looked a ghost of himself.

  She drew up beside him slowly and took the hand of his good arm, looking down at him for the signs of the life she loved—his spark.

  Never to disappoint her, she heard him inhale softly before he cracked his eyes like it was nothing more than a lazy morning.

  She smiled and leaned closer.

  “Hi,” she hushed to him.

  He tried to talk, but his voice was raspy and brittle, and he gave a weak cough to clear his dry throat.

  “S’ok,” she soothed him, brushing his hair back from his face as she bent down to kiss his forehead.

  When she withdrew, his eyes were closed again, but she could tell he was still awake and smiled a little.

  “There’s someone who can help you,” she spoke softly, leaving out a few details. “And we’re taking you to them.” Anything for him. Anything, though she knew he’d have hated parting as much as her—foolish as that made them.

  But she needed him well, just as he needed her the same—even if that meant going separate ways for a little while.

  “Are you okay?” he managed to get out through words consisting of more air than sound. He could see blood on her uniform.

  She smiled sweetly though sadly and bent back over him again to kiss the corner of his lips, unable to help herself.

  “Yes,” she hushed there, lingering in the moment. “Because of my Keeper.”

  A peace washed over him that made the broken bits, which had long since fallen to the floor of her heart, shatter.