The Darkling

by K L Hagaman

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Token

  Things were a bit more settled as they walked on through the night—Solly was a little less combative, at least. Well, towards the Wys portion of their party. The soldier of Tokū was still walking on explosive eggshells.

  Eventually, though, the lot stopped for the night and set up their camp. She didn’t trust “the idiot to not act like an idiot”, she’d said.

  Solly tied the soldier up against a tree though after all was said and done, unwilling to risk his fleeing in the night and forewarning the Tokū of their coming. The other three settled in more comfortably around Lilja’s heater.

  It was quiet for a while, everyone just taking in the day and the night to settle a bit before sleep, so it’d seem.

  “Are you a weaver, too?” Lilja finally ventured the definitive question to Solly.

  “Yeah,” the wanderer breathed quietly, laying back against another tree and closing her eyes, apparently going to bed.

  When that proved as much as they were going to get from her, Lilja looked to Kaden to find him only offering another humored shrug. Solly was apparently a woman of few words. Potent, but few.

  They retired shortly after that, retreating into Lilja’s tent, though they left the flap open to keep an eye on things and let a little warmth in from the now communal heater. They took to whispering eventually, after the

  soldier and Solly were soundly asleep.

  “Let me see your shoulder,” Lilja asked of her Keeper. “I’ll put some balm on it.”

  Kaden was rather agreeable, and she took that to mean he was hurting, though he hadn’t let on otherwise. She helped him get his arm out of his shirt and started to tend to him. His eyes closed in relief under her touch, though he’d cast his face away for it.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Lilja hushed to him softly. “You’ve hurt yourself more,” she said of his punch.

  “He had it coming,” Kaden hummed back without opening his eyes. The way he’d looked at her, harmless as his counterpart claimed he’d been, had sat none-too-kindly with the Keeper. That sort of threat made against his Princess, his heart, he had no room in his will to tolerate.

  Lilja bent down and kissed his gnarled arm, and at that, Kaden opened his eyes to see her there—her sweet and perfect lips on his sour and knotted flesh. His hand landed lightly on her head and combed back through her hair. Her eyes glanced up at him lovingly over his shoulder.

  Finished caring for him, she redressed his arm and settled in on his other side, nestled in the crook of his good shoulder as they fell back together for some rest.

  Kaden cinched her close for safe keeping.

  “How did you get it?”

  “Get what?” he asked quietly, looking up at the tents ceiling.

  “Father’s ring,” she hushed.

  He looked down his chest at her and kissed the top of her head. “When he passed…” —When Kaden had laid the man to rest with his hands over his husk, he’d lifted it. “I figured it best to prepare for all outcomes.” If they’d needed to flee, like they had, they’d at least have proof of their claims—an identification. Authority.

  She stayed quiet, a forlorn energy settling around her at the memory.

  Kaden let go of her for a moment to reach overhead and slip his hand into his pack. He fished out the ring and wrapped his arm back around her, lifting her hand in his as he slipped the token over her thumb—the only finger it would fit on snuggly.

  For a time, she just stared at the ring, thinking of her father, her history, the spires, the great Leeuvah...

  Kaden felt a warm tear soak through his shirt, and he held her only closer in the quiet.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Veracity

  The following morning came too quickly. Kaden was tired, and having needed more time to rest and not having had it, pain was catching up to him—or perhaps it was simply not abating. But the rest of the party didn’t know that, nor did they need to.

  He could manage.

  Lilja helped him with his shoulder again before they left the tent, and then the lot of them packed up and started once more for the citadel.

  “What’s your name?” Kaden finally asked of the soldier as they walked on.

  “Desdem Ona,” he answered after a wary look to Solly’s back like a whipped pup.

  “Well, Desdem,” Kaden started, looking out through the woods ahead. “What should we expect at the fringe?” They were coming to the gates without the second-half of Desdem’s party as three foreigners.

  “I’d advise we approach slowly, hands visible, and state the Princess’s identity immediately.” The Tokū didn’t take kindly to outsiders, especially in times such as these.

  “Got that, Solly?” Kaden checked. She’d need to keep herself in order if they were going to get their truth.

  “Aye-Aye, sunshine,” she said in a huff, ticking a flick of a salute over her shoulder at the Keeper.

  Before long they could make out the mountain wall the Tokū called their gate. It was a thin, ridged, and rocky ring—the boundary born of a crater left behind by a fallen star of long ago. A tunnel had been carved through the rock at each of the four cardinal directions. They’d be approaching the eastern gate more sooner than later.

  When the time came, as instructed, the group presented themselves with hands empty and visible, approaching peaceably, and then…they stood before the gate.

  And stood some more.

  It didn’t appear anyone was home as they all glanced about curiously in the silence that drew on, save Desdem—all seemed quiet. Though it didn’t feel quiet.

  “State your business!” came a sudden shout from somewhere along the cliffside. But the way the sound traveled here, bouncing against the channels of rock, it was hard to discern the vocal’s point of origin.

  “I am Princess Lilja Tani Ade of the Wys, and this is my Keeper,” Lilja called out. “We travel with one of your own, Desdem Ona, and a wanderer. We bring a plight of grave importance and request an audience with your queen, Aalin Wasim.”

  A time of silence followed before a loud, echoeous clunk could be heard and a deep grinding of gears ensued. Lilja looked to her Keeper as the gate before them rose with rusty clanks, and he nodded her on steadily.

  They walked on without company through the first half of the torch-riddled tunnel before they were met by a string of soldiers. Desdem was taken away, and though it appeared the Tokū wished to whisk away Solly as well, the Princess requested her stay. The appeal was honored, though the girl was relieved of her weaponry, much to the wanderer’s grave and obvious dislike.

  The tunnel eventually lightened as they reached the citadel, until finally, they experienced the sun again as it beat down on the heart of Tokū.

  A heart whose rhythm struck Kaden’s core in such a way as they breached the wall, that he struggled to breathe for a moment, chest tightening—his head fogging and burdened with a vast presence. His arm gave a mad twitch of a spasm.

  They were cached here. The stones. He felt them—a tremendous energy bleeding through the air, obnoxiously thick and heavy. If he’d needed to, he could have followed the invisible surge right to them…

  This wasn’t right.

  Lilja felt the hiccup and took a subtle pause, grasping his arm for a moment as he collected himself quietly. He shot her a wink to let her know he was fine despite a lingering touch of breathlessness. And while she didn’t exactly believe him, the time and place didn’t afford her the chance to challenge him.

  But in opposition of the invisible magic sensed—what was visible around them, were humble buildings of wood, none more than three stories tall, and lined cobbled streets that knit between homes and markets like a dated tapestry. It was lively and inviting—simple and charming in many ways. But it was so vastly different from the territory the Wys had grown to be, closer resembling the long ago era.

  It was a reminder of just how far their technological advancements had
taken them and just how quickly. Not two centuries ago did their own territory look like this. But they’d long since traded out their horses and carriages for engines and flying ships.

  And all because of the Ruins. How that one discovery had changed everything for them…And now, this. A hoard of magical stones found in the depths of a forgotten mountain. How would this discovery change the future?

  They were escorted further through the city until they reached its core, the hub focused around an impressive stone castle with classic tall towers, riddled with aged moss, ivy, and rouge ferns who as seeds must have found a refuge of footing between the time-soiled rocks. A moat, flowing to keep the water from falling stagnant, encompassed the stronghold in a classic form of defense.

  The group of foreigners and soldiers waited for a heavy drawbridge to be lowered before they crossed over into the palace grounds.

  After the path was anchored, half of their escort diverged and returned to their posts around the city, while the remainder took the trespassers to the entrance of the throne room. Once there, Solly was held outside. As a wanderer, she had no place in the presence of the queen.

  With jaw ridged and daggers for eyes, Solly acquiesced with a rude smirk. The only reason she didn’t protest more vividly was the fact that Kaden, standing behind the guard from which the order had come, gave her a solid nod that spoke of a promise. A promise to do right by her and their…pursuit.

  And she trusted him, despite her more common and natural instinct not to. Though they carried some strong commonalities, they were still little more than strangers to each other. But Solly just…did. The sincere air about him was convincing enough.

  Stripped of their belongings for the time being, Lilja and her Keeper were taken through two thick wooden doors of solid oak, mighty and protective of who lay just beyond.

  The throne room was dark in comparison to Lilja’s own. Polished rock floor butted up against smooth slabs of dark slate, lined with standing torches of molded iron whose flames danced reflectively off all the cold, glazed surfaces.

  Windows were staggered about, long and vertical, though narrow for protection—none wide enough to allow a body to slip in or out as they were open-air with no glass or bars to block passage. A large hearth, the length of the far wall in its entirety, sat blazing behind a single throne, and upon that throne, sat the queen of Tokū.

  She was regal and authoritative, the sole hand of leadership over her territory as an unwed only child. Her hair fell fluidly down the length of her back, white as the moon, with eyes the color of twilight—that color that danced between black and blue with a whisper of purple.

  She rose from her chair, her long robes of cerulean blue flowing from her lanky figure like water in a state of constant pour.

  “Princess Lilja Ade,” the queen voiced stoically in greeting. “Come,” she beckoned of her.

  The Princess abided with a polite bow of her head before approaching the throne reverently, remembering she was a stranger here who’d been caught spying.

  Kaden remained behind as nothing more than the Princess’s backdrop, having no place before such royalty in the eyes of the Tokū. The only reason he’d even been permitted this far was due to the respect being shown them—an undeserved courtesy. And in return, he did not push his luck.

  “Queen Aalin, thank you for granting us this audience,” the Princess started.

  “It truly speaks of my grace when I am told you were within my borders spying—breaking many of the laws agreed upon by the Accordance.”

  Lilja’s dark almond eyes fell to the floor before the queen, and then in an act of sincere humility, she knelt.

  “My acts indeed have broken our treaty laws,” she acknowledged. “I am gravely aware of that and do not deny it, nor would I condemn any repercussions from you and see them unjust.”

  “Good,” the queen started a bit severely.

  “But,” the Princess interrupted, raising her eyes from the floor. “I am not the only one guilty of breaking laws, Queen Aalin.”

  The queen rose her chin, face like stone.

  “Tokū has discovered and has been surmounting a massive hoard of stones without the permission or knowledge of the Accordance. And it is rumored,” she added with an edge of hesitancy, knowing the weight of this further allegation, “that you have been keeping weavers with the hopes of combining those stones—possibly against their wills.”

  Silence rang in the cold hall.

  “Rise,” Queen Aalin commanded, curtly.

  The Princess did as ordered, getting to her feet for a brief standoff of sorts as both women stared at the other. In the end, it was Aalin that gave.

  “Speak, and quickly,” the queen advised.

  Then and there, without a breaths hesitation as time was of the essence, Lilja spoke openly with the queen, sharing with her plainly everything from Masuku’s rebellious scouting, his collaboration with a weaver claiming to have escaped Tokū, and his coup—her father’s untimely demise, to her uncle’s intentions of war to not only claim the throne of Wys, but the stones from the Tokū under the guise of integrity, and her need to flee her homeland and seek refuge and aid in Dorai.

  Lilja was honest. And very. How the tokens landed from here on would be anyone’s guess.

  “The Accordance has been alerted, and by now should have given a warning to the Faithful to stand down and return the throne. But it is probable,” Lilja carried on, knowing how very likely such a surrender was in her heart, “That Masuku will ignore such advisement and will be on your doorstep unspeakably soon. And even if he is not, the Accordance will be.” Tokū had much to answer for.

  By now, the queen’s posture had shifted to one of more…agreeability.

  “But your soldier, Desdem Ona, has told us you only seek to amass the stones to protect the magic,” Lilja carried on.

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. Such a confession from a soldier was treasonous, though she had much bigger issues that needed attending.

  “You must speak of this now and alert the Accordance yourself of these claims if they are true, or you will allow a war to befall your territory—a war that you cannot possibly hope to win. And you must give account for the missing weavers thought to be taken by your people.” There was no hiding from this.

  “What was her name?” the queen asked abruptly.

  “…Her name?” Lilja repeated after a fair few blinks, a bit lost as to the reaction and seemingly obscure question from the queen. She’d expected more…urgent compliance.

  “The weaver who shared with Masuku what she believed was happening here. Was her name, by chance, Oscine?”

  Kaden straightened behind Lilja.

  “Yes,” the Princess answered with curiosity lacing her tone. “What do you know of her?” she wondered.

  “She was Tokū until we banished her. She escaped nothing other than harsher sentencing,” Aalin announced gravely.

  “Banished?” Lilja repeated. “But she claims to have escaped—to have been victim,” she reminded the queen.

  Aalin scoffed quietly through her nose. “Oscine is a wicked woman,” she started darkly and with zero remorse, regret brewing in her soul. “When the stones were found in the mountains years and years ago, she came to me with grand ideas of harvesting them for the purpose of combining their magics into one. However, that is where our like-mindedness ended. While I wished for the Tokū to be guardians of the magic, she wished to use the Master Stone—to abuse its power, claiming it was only a matter of time before the other territories came for us, as we are vulnerable in light of our chosen way of life, should arms be raised. She believed we needed protection. Leverage.”

  The Princess listened keenly, as did her Keeper, ears burning, with his lame arm finding the power to tremble in an unruly flare of anger.

  “…Walk with me,” Queen Aalin decided, starting off for the grand doors in determination. “I wish to show you something that will easily give root to my words.

  Together,
the royals moved out of the throne room, the Keeper in their wake, as well as a few guards, while Solly brought up the rear with her own escort, not to be left unattended.

  “The missing weavers you speak of, I am ashamed to admit, is true. For a time, Oscine had been…recruiting her own people from wherever she could claim them. The borders of territories meant nothing. In her eyes, she believed her people needed to be rallied together to defend their undetermined future. She believes in her heart that the time of weavers will soon end if their existence is not fought for. An end brought about by the fears of men.”

  They walked down one stone corridor after another, eventually bringing them to a different wing of the castle entirely—a grand hall of sorts. But rather than thrones or people of the castle, it was filled with tables topped with more stones than Lilja or Kaden would have ever dreamed existed, all being tended by those who could only have been weavers.

  And many.

  The stones sparkled through the lights of the vast windows, glistening and singing with magic—the energy of all those stones together, simply in the same room, made the air blissfully heavy as the weavers worked to move and gather their essence. There was a literal weight to the warm air around them, flowing in some ethereal breeze.

  Magic.

  And that feel of magic seemed to culminate around one particular raw and unpolished stone in the dead-center of the hall, set on a pedestal, about the size of a grown man’s fist.

  The weavers were moving the magic into it, gently discarding the drained stones into crates behind them to be hauled away as they went along.

  The Princess and her Keeper stopped, awed, looking around at a new world in the making.

  The queen stilled along with them, letting her company’s eyes explore with a little smile kept behind her own. It was a powerful sight—one that demanded a moment of reverent appreciation.

  It was given its due.

  “Without my knowledge,” the queen eventually began, “Oscine was found to be forcing weavers to fulfill her agenda by cruel means of manipulation. Many were coerced by the blood of their families—threatened,” the queen shared softly, remorsefully, as she looked around the room filled with those very people—those very weavers, knowing that some of the threats made by Oscine had not been empty.