The Darkling

by K L Hagaman

  “Rest now,” she told him, though she couldn’t quite part from him just yet.

  “Challenge accepted,” he muttered in a flicker of humor despite it all.

  A light smile found its way to her mouth.

  Without much more, good boy as he could be, he was drifting off. Lilja gave him one last kiss, soft and light on his brow so not to disturb him, and slipped back out of the room.

  Not long after, the medic had returned, having made the needed arrangements for the Princess’s Keeper to be airlifted to Shinrin.

  The Towen would be ready for him.

  Chapter Seven

  The Acquiesce

  Lilja watched the shuttle to Shinrin fade into the night from a bay door on the outskirts of the grand dome, until it was no more than a distant star. And only once it had burned out completely did she return inside, her heart missing.

  A soldier of the Dorai had been waiting for her, and when she was ready, he escorted her to a guest chamber she found she was actually familiar with, having stayed in the dome a few times for political visits in the past. It was smaller than her room at home, but lovely and extravagant in its own way—even if she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate such things.

  The ceiling of the room was made of one-way glass with an automated retractable awning, peppered with skylights, that drew over the rounded panes during the daylight hours to protect against most of the heat from the sun. But in the coolness of night, it was drawn back, and the deep indigo sky, punctuated with its dancing celestial bodies, could be enjoyed.

  There, in the privacy of the room, she bathed. The runoff from her skin was pink and pooled around her toes before disappearing in a swirl down the drain.

  The Princess sank to her knees and cried until the wells of her eyes ran dry.

  Sometime later when she was more presentable, more gathered, she dressed in some provided attire—a dress of soft cotton, periwinkle in color. With hair cleaned for the

  first time in almost a week, she wove fresh braids back over her temples, setting her fine face unknowingly on display. For as simple as the dressing may have been, nothing could strip the air of regality from her.

  From her room, she was escorted to the arboretum—the central vault of the kingdom, which splintered off into all the other domes that housed the citizens of Dorai. The conservatory was also the largest structure, even greater than the palace.

  Trees of all natures flourished there along with fresh green grasses and vibrantly crisp flowers. There were parks to walk in, gardens to tend, farms to cultivate—all life grew there in the safety of the dome in an otherwise scorched and barren land.

  It was a lovely place.

  Fireflies danced with their silly bobbing through the air, pulsing in and out of existence while steady and true lampposts illuminated the rest of the park more faithfully against the song of crickets.

  All was quiet at this hour, late as it had grown, but Suna was there waiting for her over a bridge arching across one of many rather large koi ponds. When the king saw Lilja approaching, he came to meet her before excusing her escort.

  “Your Keeper is in good hands,” he tried to reassure, having seen how disturbed she’d been over his well-being.

  Lilja returned a polite smile but said nothing on the matter. She just couldn’t talk about Kaden right now.

  “I’m sorry to have come to you like this, King Suna—for bringing trouble across borders—but I’ve been left with little choice and I do plead for your ear,” she voiced smoothly like the royalty she was, with the diplomacy of her father and the grace of her mother.

  Suna smiled kindly and bowed his head that she would, and then offering her an arm, invited her to walk with him.

  “You have it,” he promised kindly.

  “Prince Masuku had been on patrol along the Tokū border when he came back with reports of their mining rumored stones,” she laid out openly as they walked down the bridge. There was no gentle easing into her tale.

  “Rumored stones?” the king inquired.

  “Magic opals. And he believes they are enslaving weavers—using them to amass the power of the found opals into one, single, solitary stone.”

  Suna’s brow fell, clearly understanding the severity of such a situation if it proved true, and likewise if such an accusation proved false.

  “Masuku brought this to my father’s attention and a floor was held in hopes to discuss the proper course of action.”

  “To contact the Accordance?” Suna interjected with his assumption of protocol being followed.

  Lilja bowed her head.

  “Yes. But the prince had been plotting a coup and used the floor to try to discredit my father’s ability to manage the throne and called for a vote hoping to relieve him of it.”

  Suna stopped walking and looked at her sternly. “And surely such a vote was in your father’s favor?” he popped in distaste.

  “It was,” Lilja assured in a bit of a broken smile, appreciating Suna’s faith in her father. But there was a solemness that befell her that no degree of self-control could have changed.

  “Princess, is your father alright?” the king ventured warily as he sensed the shift.

  There was a pause as she swallowed, collecting her thoughts. “He’s...fallen.”

  “Fallen?” he retorted in shock before he could help himself.

  “My uncle,” Lilja had started to explain, though she knew not how.

  “Dear girl,” Suna sighed in grave dismay, relieving her of the task, genuinely grieved as he was. This was insanity. He knew Masuku Ade, not as well as Jahi, but he’d never have fathomed such betrayal.

  “I am ever so sorry for your loss,” he spoke sincerely.

  Lilja bowed her head once more, this time in deep thanks.

  “And so your uncle seeks the throne…and you are the last thing in his way,” Suna pieced together through his shaken state of disbelief.

  “Yes. We were forced to flee as the Faithful—that’s what those taking up Masuku’s charge call themselves—openly drew blades and war broke out.”

  Civil war—brothers and sisters turning against each other. And so quickly over something so foolish.

  “And they chased you all the way to our border?” Incredible. “How ever did you make it?” he wondered.

  Lilja gave a flicker of a broken smile. “…I have a faithful Keeper,” she hushed through the lump in her throat, steady as she needed to be for this course.

  Suna’s expression only fell more grieved for her.

  “But it is another faithful alliance I am in need of now,” Lilja carried on, launching out of her tale and into her request in the next breath, duty bound and determined to not let this all be for naught as her focus returned to the king before her.

  “As Commander of the Wys, I call upon our union and request the aid of Dorai.”

  Suna took his time replying. It was no small thing, affinity for her family or not, to throw his people into war—undoubtedly bringing death to their door. But in the end, he was more honorable than fearful, and understood the greater threat and its impact on the world…

  “We are with you, Commander Ade,” Suna spoke in vow.

  Lilja took in a discreet breath of relief, giving a reverent bow of appreciation, regardless of her own title. “You forever have our gratitude,” were her heartfelt words.

  “Your father always said we’re not alone in this world and should never act as if we are. He was a wise man and we’d be fools to not live out his advice.”

  Lilja smiled faintly with tender eyes at the reminder.

  Kaden was right.

  Her father’s words, his wisdom, and his love—it was all still there, breathing across heartstrings.

  Chapter Eight

  The Energy

  There was sunlight on his face and a cool breeze lightly slipping through his hair. Kaden felt he was outside before he even opened his eyes. And while he would have opened them to be certain, he was struggling with heavy eyeli
ds and a feeling of sickly displacement in his heart and couldn’t quite manage at the moment.

  Something was missing, and he was trapped in a sleep of sorts, puzzling.

  No. No, not something. Someone. The

  energy of her absence from the air around him was as blatant as water lacking oxygen and just as suffocating.

  The instant he realized it, all weight fled his eyelids and he shot upright, gasping for air from the sensation created in her absence, green eyes wide and laser sharp as they cast recklessly about for her—for his Princess.

  What he saw instead only added to his troubles and confusion.

  He wasn’t outside at all. Well, not really.

  The room, if that’s what you would call it, was teardropped in shape though it bore a flush floor for the obvious intents and purposes of walking. And based on what he could see out the wide, rounded, open-aired door in front of him, the abode was hanging from a tree like many others in branches beyond.

  The bed he lay in was of a similar structure—a smaller version of a teardrop anchored and hanging from the room’s center like some sort of nest or oddly shaped hammock. It was even swaying a little from the sudden movement he’d made waking.

  Looking around, adrift to say the least, he saw no one to even point him in the right direction of sense.

  After a moment, and having caught his breath, he tried turning in his nest to hang his bare feet off the side with the natural intent to put some weight on them and stand. But he ended up staying in that position for a bit longer than intended—perched on the edge of whatever sort of bed he was in, finding the need to adjust to being vertical a powerful one.

  It gave him the sense he’d not done much of it of late.

  He realized his shoulder burned as he gained more means to focus, and when he looked down to examine, he found it thickly bandaged and his arm pinned to his torso. It was clean looking though, as was the rest of him. In fact, it would appear he’d been bathed and changed. He wore only trousers now, and not his own. They were loose and light, of a soft and natural cotton, organic in color.

  When he felt confident enough to finally try standing, he slipped out of the hammock, anchoring himself with his good arm to the twig-twined rim of the bed. When he didn’t fall, he moved slowly with a steady shuffle of his bare feet to the door to look out and hopefully gain sensical bearings.

  Woods—a forest of thick, red-barked trees with needles instead of leaves—surrounded him. And hanging on each and every one of them were more pods like his, though some were much, much larger. He found them all connected, all those housed in the same trees and those that neighbored, by long swooping bridges of planks and vines.

  He knew where he was suddenly. But he didn’t know why, nor how he’d gotten there or most importantly where his Princess was.

  “Keeper Kaden,” he was greeted in a voice most unusual. It was as if someone had turned song into words—the tones ethereal. The possessor of such a thing was crossing the bridge that spanned to his nest.

  “It’s good to see you standing. I didn’t expect that would happen for another little while,” she commented casually, though obviously pleased.

  A woman about his age with short, springy curls, not even chin length, stopped short in front of the Keeper while giving him the once over with her eyes. They were a weird sort of hazel that slipped into a deep shade of red around the iris. He was fairly distracted by them until she went to touch him. He straightened with a flinch, pulling himself back from her reflexively.

  Her hand paused in mid-air, the belled sleeves of her crimson dress flowing languidly in the breeze that swam through the high trees, and an apology rang in his heart from her before she even vocalized such words. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to checking on it I forgot to ask now that you’re awake,” she said of his shoulder.

  Kaden’s brow knit as his hand brushed over his heart to sweep away the sensation—the words. Had that…had that been her? There?

  He knew the answer.

  And he didn’t like it.

  “You’ve been caring for me?” he questioned, moving forward in his pursuit of basic knowledge. “Who are you?”

  “Yes,” she smiled slightly, bowing her head as she introduced herself. “My name is Haleth Hatharal of Shinrin. Towen.” She raised her face before taking the liberty of wrapping up the introductions. “And you are Kaden Ashe of Wys. Keeper.”

  He just stared at the Towen for a moment in survey. But more sooner than later it began taking him a little longer to blink and his head started to feel a bit like a craft lost to the wind, bobbing.

  “Come. Let’s lay you back down,” Haleth sang, careful not to touch him but gesturing him back inside with a wave of her hand.

  He heeded with a bit of a stumble, but she did not make to catch or steady him.

  Once sitting and secure, Haleth raised a delicate hand to his brow, just hovering. “May I?” she asked in advance this time.

  Kaden gave a small and wary nod. Just one.

  Haleth checked the warmth of his forehead for fever before her touch trailed down his face to the left side of his neck, gently prodding here and there with deft fingers. The lower she traveled and the closer to the wound she explored, the more tender things felt. And tender was a bit of an understatement.

  Kaden was left with an involuntary hiss that morphed into a pained groan through gritted teeth.

  Her eyes cut to his, acutely aware, and once more, Kaden found himself oddly snared by them. Unknowingly, he started to search them, unable to help himself. There was something there…

  The Towen let him look and eased up with her fingers while she returned the study. His eyes were the sort of green she favored in spring—fresh and soft. She hadn’t gotten to see them before.

  “How’d I get here?” he asked while he had her eyes—her full attention. “Where’s Princess Lilja Ade?”

  She looked at him a moment longer before she sighed through her nose and another wave of something not of Kaden’s own making washed over his heart—something akin to disappointment.

  But that didn’t concern him.

  “How’d I get here?” he asked again. “Where’s the Princess?”

  Haleth stepped back, seemingly content with how his shoulder was mending for now. “Princess Lilja Ade sent you here. The Dorai did what they could for you, but you would have lost your arm if you’d have stayed there, and maybe more.” Humans knew so little—their brains impeded by self-imposed limits.

  “And she’s still there.”

  “And she’s still there,” Haleth repeated casually.

  He understood why. Lilja had duties. There was war. They needed help.

  “How long?” Kaden asked next as he sorted things.

  “How long what?” Haleth asked, tilting her head to the side as a few curls bounced and swayed.

  “How long have I been here and how much longer must I stay?”

  “Oh…time,” she breathed airily as if she’d forgotten it existed as she straightened in understanding. “You’ve been here two days, but as for how long you’ll stay, I suppose as long as it takes.”

  “As long as it takes?”

  “To heal you fully. If you were to leave now, Keeper,” she warned, making sure she had his eyes even though they’d not left hers, “—it’s unlikely our progress would keep for very long.” He needed tending. He bore no little wound.

  Kaden let out a heavy sigh as he pulled an anxious hand down his face. He couldn’t stay. Lilja needed her Keeper now more than ever. He didn’t trust her safety to anyone else. Especially not right now.

  Sensing his troubles, Haleth reached out once more for his shoulder. “Look,” she willed of him tenderly as she began to peel back the dressing. He needed to understand.

  Beneath the crisp bandage, placid and rather benign looking, was an entirely different world. His flesh was red and angry, gnarled and knotted. While it appeared healed over already to an extent with a thin glaze of white scarring, it
was very evident the limb was not well.

  And for a time…Kaden just looked at it. The damage. The heavy damage. And then he remembered seeing the blood on Lilja’s uniform…

  “Let us right you. I think we can,” she promised quietly. “Stay, Kaden.” It wouldn’t be wise for him to leave any time soon, and he needed to understand that.

  He said nothing as worlds of thought swam in his heart.

  “How do you know?” he questioned of their ability, Towen or not. He’d seen splinter shell wounds before. He knew a hopeless injury when he saw it.

  “Our methods harmonize with our nature. We don’t suffer from the same hindrances as the rest of the world,” Haleth reminded.

  Kaden looked up at her, not understanding a lick of what that meant as he felt a helpless frustration beginning to brew in his core.

  “The magic coursing through us creates channels for healing that humans lack,” she explained slowly, looking about his face a little curiously as she felt a question forming in his heart that puzzled her.

  And in return, one grew in her own.

  “Kaden…” she questioned quietly—curious. “What do you think you are?”

  His brow wrinkled. She obviously knew, didn’t she? —All this talk of magic in their veins.

  “A weaver,” he answered honestly, admitting that he knew.

  Her brow rose, catching her bangs of curls and sending them up.

  “What?” he was left to chuckle awkwardly, perhaps even a little irritably with a confused grin tugging at his lips. She was making him feel…odd.

  Again.

  “You’re no weaver,” Haleth told him suddenly, almost defensively, unable to let him believe such a foulness any longer.

  Chapter Nine

  The Scout

  She didn’t sleep well. It was impossible when she knew Kaden was so far away and hurt. As soon as a reasonable hour permitted, she would send word to him. Hopefully, that word would find him well.

  Hopefully, the Towen had been successful.

  As the sun rose and Lilja finally resigned to the commitment of waking, she dressed for the day in the same dress as the night before, rebraided her hair back over her temples as