The Dark Crown

by S C Gowland

  Kaoldan had felt the energy draining from his muscles, limbs heavy. Ice cold doubt had entered his head, regretful thoughts, despair picked at his concentration.

  Was this it?

  Was this all he would be?

  Was this all he had been able to do?

  What would happen to his daughters?

  Was this his gift to them?

  His legacy - raising a family, losing a family and hiding away like some sort of coward.

  He felt his eyes twitch, flicker a lump grew in his throat. He swallowed it down, shakily pushing his tongue into the corners of his mouth.

  A low growl and a roar to his side had jolted him back into reality. Tren crept forwards eyes fixed on Ormrik. Kaoldan felt a wave of relief wash over him, dark thoughts swept away.

  The tide had turned only once Kubrean and Max had finished dealing with the other members of the Otan.

  Ormrik backed away, cold eyes fixed on Kaoldan, his mouth twisting, slowly nodding his head.

  Tren and Max growled and slowly moved forward. Kubrean hefting his maces, rustling his way through the grass to Kaoldan’s side.

  Ormrik paused and shook his head, a grin growing on his face. ‘You. Are a lucky man.’ he said matter-of-factly.

  He flicked his wrist and the purple double ended glaive disappeared a short rod of dark iron in its place. He pursed his lips, sniffed and placed the rod back inside his belt.

  ‘Again.’ he said. ‘I’ll be seeing you again.’ He pointed towards Kaoldan. ‘You might want to improve your technique. I won’t be so generous next time.’ His grin turned into a cold smile.

  Without removing his eyes from Kaoldan he stretched out an arm and snapped his fingers, the sound cracked across the land like a whip.

  A screech echoed around them.

  Kubrean’s head darted to the noise behind them. It was like a storm had landed right on top of them. Wind swirled and whipped. Kaoldan had to shield his eyes from soil and grass that exploded everywhere, as a dark shaped floated effortlessly over their heads. The shaped landed with a monstrous boom followed by another metallic screech.

  Kaoldan’s eyelids fluttered, he wiped his face, grit scratching the edge of his eye.

  The beetle stood proud and still by Ormrik’s side, black wings billowing out in the wind, quite the magnificent sight.

  Ormrik waved his hand down - eyes still fixed on Kaoldan - and the creature lowered its head. The Otan warrior grunted and heaved himself up on to its neck. The creature raised itself up and called out, the pantheras growled but no one moved.

  Then very deliberately Ormrik turned in his seat and looked to Kaoldan’s side and politely nodded.

  Kaoldan glanced to see Kubrean stood maces at the ready, fingers white and flexing, jaw set hard.

  The creature lowered itself then sprang up into the air its wings unfurled, and it thrust downwards. Debris blew wildly around Kaoldan. It let out a screech as it rose into the sky a dark shape shrinking into the distance, blue and white mingling together until it was gone.

  Kaoldan shuddered out a long wheezing breath and closed his eyes tight. He set his jaw and took several deep breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth steadying himself, heart slowing, warmth returning.

  Opening his eyes it stung, bright light piercing, he winced letting the colours return and blobs sharpen into recognisable shapes.

  Kaoldan turned to Kubrean and the old man blew out a breath. He shrugged his shoulders, trying his best to appear nonchalant and headed over toward Max. Kaoldan frowned and was about to speak, words on the tip of his tongue.

  The girls.

  His mind shot back to the girls.

  Kubrean clearly had the same thought at that moment. They climbed onto the pantheras and charged toward the forest and followed in the general direction of the girls.

  It felt like an eternity before they'd found them. Tension increasing with each moment in Kaoldan’s body.

  Light broke through the branches, Kaoldan craned his neck, flickers of light; green and purple..

  He hissed, Kubrean’s head jerked, his ears sharp.

  Kaoldan urged Tren forwards, the big cat quivered as he moved.

  They brushed through low-hanging branches laden with thick leaves, he caught fractures of images, noise, effort, metal clanged

  He brushed a final branch away a clearing spread out before him. His mind a maelstrom of fear. The fear of what might be, the fear of what could be, a vast suffocating fear that weight down on his chest.

  There were bodies scattered on the ground, Kaoldan’s eyes flickered over each of them fearing the worst.

  He realised he was holding his breath.

  All dark heaps, no grey. But no sign of them either.

  A scream echoed out, and he looked up.

  Several figures in the shadows of the canopy emerged, green and purple blades flickering, swirling.

  A green orb rose from a collapsing figure.

  He saw two figure slide into the light.

  The taller of the two clad in grey, blonde hair whipping around its head. The figure jabbed forwards with a long silver blade once then twice the second time she extended her thrust, it pierced the midriff of her opponent. But this did not stop them. They wriggled forward. Another dark shape moved forward behind it.

  Kaoldan instantly reached to his right pulling a bow from its sling, he fumbled for an arrow. It was the only option.

  He stretched his neck, let out a low deep breath and closed his eyes. Warmth began penetrating his body, through his arms, chest and legs. Familiar, comforting Fajin energy. He opened his eyes pulling the bow close to his chin, feathers of the arrow tickling his nose.

  Everything throbbed and glowed. The clearing stood out in staggering detail, the pattern of bark on trees, the sway of grass yellow flowers bobbing in the breeze, stitching on the side of the Otan warrior’s robes.

  Time slowed.

  A bird’s flapping wings ground to a halt.

  He held his breath and flicked his fingers, the string caught and the arrowed hummed. It sailed into the distance, quivering as it flew.

  His arrow struck true taking her opponent in the side of the head, just as Romina had hesitated.

  He pulled another arrow let it fly. It hit the second figure in the chest, it fell.

  He dismounted from Tren - jogging over to Romina - looking around carefully, surveying the horizon. Another arrow notched ready.

  ‘Are you sure you are okay?’ he asked, looking intently at her.

  She appeared pale but unharmed

  He repeated the question, her head snapped up.

  ‘Yes. I am okay.’ she replied although her smile was unconvincing.

  Kaoldan frowned, he had seen that look before.

  Rustling and Zahara emerged from the shadows, blade in hand,

  ‘You ok?’ he asked an urgency within his voice.

  She nodded; face smeared with blood.

  His relief was short lived. His training kicked in, there may be others.

  ‘We need to scout the area.’ he said. ‘We need to be certain that there are no more of them.’

  Daughters stood both as if in a trance.

  ‘I need you to focus.’ he said a little more loudly than he had intended, but his nerves were somewhat frayed, and he said it again staring intently at each of them in turn.

  They snapped back into reality and caught his eye, nodding their heads as if just waking from a dream.

  The girls or the women, which he now reflected that they were, appeared otherwise unshaken. But Kaoldan knew better the wide-eyed expression on Romina's face, causing him great concern. It was a look he had seen many times before on novice Walkers.

  Meaning they had crossed a threshold.

  The threshold of taking a life.

  It is one thing practising and training to take life.

  It is quite another to do so.

  Strangely, he realised he felt a little proud, but it was a feeling that ca
used him slight embarrassment. Did he really want daughters who were able to take life so quickly? On balance he realised he did.

  ‘I want you to go as a pair, stay in sight and take the Pantheras and Dref with you.’ he insisted to Zahara. The greater the number the lesser the threat, he reasoned.

  Zahara turned to acknowledge his instruction and slowly walked towards him, surveying the environment as she headed his way. She appeared much less shaken by the experience than her older sister, moving backwards carefully, step-by-step surveying the environment for any further threats green sword in hand, Dref at her side.

  Kaoldan swallowed hard and narrowed his eyes. Something niggled at the back of his mind; a knot of concern, something unfamiliar. He pushed it from his mind as a crumpled heap caught his attention. He slowly approached one of the bodies in the clearing whilst still surveying the forest.

  Curious, he knelt at the side of the corpse. The woman was lightly armed and did not carry any of the usual equipment used by the Krund.

  These were a different kind of enemy. An enemy that he and Kubrean had never faced before. He pursed his lips and took a breath surveying the horizons his daughters were still in sight combing the trees, weapons at the ready. He looked up as Kubrean approached.

  ‘Who are they?’ he asked.

  ‘Damned if I know.’ replied Kubrean, poking at her dead body with his foot.

  That look again.

  It flickered across Kubrean’s face, almost imperceptible but Kaoldan saw it and for the second time that day he said nothing.

  Kaoldan noticed little things, slight stiffness, not avoiding eye contact but not seeking it either.

  Something was not right. Kubrean was tense even though the fighting had ended.

  ‘They are certainly not the Krund.’ said Kaoldan pressing the point as Kubrean looked into the distance avoiding his querying stare. ‘They are better trained, better armed, better equipped. So, we perhaps have a more significant problem?’

  Kubrean nodded.

  A glint of dull metal caught his eye.

  Kaoldan reached forward grasping the rod partially hidden by the grass. It felt cold to the touch, as if sensing it was being held by a stranger. Kaoldan hefted it in his hand, it was light with almost no weight and was therefore no ordinary metal. It had a texture to it, a grip of some sort, he narrowed his eyes focusing in. No. It was engraved with small intricate writing, in a language he did not understand. He twisted it between his fingers, eyes searching the lettering covered every part of the shaft and each end there was a symbol, jagged and twisted.

  He flicked it with his wrist, nothing.

  Then on instinct he gathered Fajin into his body then flicked his wrist again. There was a flash of light, he winced, his hand suddenly grew heavy. Opening one eye then the other a long dark sword lay in his hand rippling flexing as if a rainbow were trapped inside struggling to escape. Blue, yellows, orange, green, white swirled within the dark boundaries of the sword.

  Kaoldan pulled a face. ‘Impressive.’ He breathed standing eying the blade from point to hilt. He set his feet to take a practice swing. It was light, moved well, just like a Walkerblade but different somehow. He gathered his will again, Fajin rose within his chest and the blade flashed white. Morphing into double ended glaive. He stood opened mouthed swishing the blade in practice strokes.

  Kubrean watched silently, his eyes not leaving the blade. ‘Impressive.’ He murmured.

  Kaoldan hummed a response continuing to move the blade in circles. Then he sniffed and blew out a long breath.

  ‘I think,’ said Kaoldan ‘that we have a serious problem.‘ He looked at Kubrean.

  Kubrean frowned.

  ‘Fajin.’ said Kaoldan offering the blade to Kubrean ‘they knew Fajin. How can this be?’

  Kubrean took the blade inspecting it and pulled a face.

  ‘I thought we were the only users of Fajin?’ said Kaoldan looking at his friend.

  Kubrean twisted the blade in his hand. It flashed white and returned to a rod of iron. He flipped it in his hand and offered the end to Kaoldan.

  ‘Seems we are not.’ he said raising his eyebrows.

  Kaoldan inspected the rod.

  ‘There were rumours.’ Kubrean said his face creased with concern ‘ About others like us. Others who can use Fajin, others that do not see the world in the way we do. We really need to talk about this with Nova and members of the Grey Council. Another thing to discuss in depth when we get back to Thura after we have spoken to Duke Lomman. But this is a most worrying development.’

  ‘I'd better go and check on the women.’ said Kaoldan, nodding to his right.

  ‘Women now is it?’ said Kubrean with a grin.

  Kaoldan chewed his lip whilst tucking the rod into his belt.

  ‘Yes, women it is.’ he said with a frown rising to make his way towards his daughters.

  ***

  ‘Are you sure you're okay?’ he said to Zahara.

  ‘As well as can be expected.’ she answered with a light smile.

  ‘We need to get out of here.’ said Kaoldan. ‘It's not safe. They know we are here; they may come again.’ Images of Ormrik’s cold smile flashed through his mind.

  Zahara nodded solemnly. She raised her hand to her mouth and whistled loudly twice.

  Rustling and the sound of snapping branches. Shara emerged through the foliage, thrashing in protest, with a snort looking left and right as she approached Zahara, who mounted her Panthera

  Kaoldan turned his attention to Romina, brushing leaves out of her way, rubbing her chest with a pained expression on her face.

  ‘Are you sure you're okay?’ he double checked.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ she smiled, avoiding his eyes. ‘Nice to be able to put theory into practice.’

  Kaoldan didn’t believe her for a moment.

  She looked at him half smiled, sucked her teeth then climbed on the back of Essa; the ginger Panthera continued to look left and right, surveying the environment, looking for potential new threats.

  It seemed to Kaoldan that her panthera had actually dealt with the situation better than her master, despite a bad start.

  His mind raced.

  Who were the Otan?

  Why had they attacked the group?

  What possible objective had they had?

  What possible reason for trying to kill four Walkers in the middle of nowhere? He sighed. These were thoughts for another time so with effort he pushed them to the back of his mind. Another time.

  A flood of immediate concern then swamped Kaoldan's head, worry for his daughters, pride about the outcome of the encounter, fear of Ormrik. Picking his way through the clearing he realised, that the two Walkers needed reassurance, but were also his daughters. His pace faltered slightly. Not young girls needing their father, women needing their father, an altogether different prospect. He licked his lips and felt his guts turn over.

  He too needed reassurance.

  And if the look on Romina’s face after the fight was anything to go by he was going to need to do so carefully. Not just master to student - that he could do - but father to daughter, and it was not a skill he was certain he possessed.

  He swallowed hard.

  New territory, he thought, new territory.

  Chapter 17 - Distance

  The remainder of the journey felt like a dream to Romina. Even though they had covered hundreds of miles, she had barely said a word since the encounter.

  Every time they'd stopped and each evening, she had made her excuses and gone to sleep early and arisen before anybody else. Every time her father had tried to speak to her, she'd found some way of escaping; some reason some excuse not to talk. The need to collect vegetables or go hunting for food. Any chore that she was able to use as a reason not to speak to him she had taken.

  In truth, she did feel bad about it. She desperately wanted to speak to somebody. Zahara appeared unaffected by the whole encounter as usual taking everything in her confident strid
e.

  The best she had been able to manage had been very one-sided conversations with Dref. The big schnauzer had followed her everywhere, no matter the time of day and despite her best efforts to find some solitude. Perhaps the dog was magical as Zalen had suggested.

  She grumbled to herself as she made her way back through the trees, darkness beginning to seep into the forest.

  ‘Okay.’ she said waving her hands in finality.

  ‘Enough of this.’ she almost stamped her foot in frustration.

  No answer, but a cocked head. One ear flopped over his head.

  ‘Let’s just get it out there.’ she said a little louder than she intended.

  Eyebrows knitted together, and he sneezed.

  ‘How can I speak to him?’

  A low yowl.

  ‘How can I speak to him about this?’ she said with a shrug.

  He blinked twice.

  ‘He is a stranger.’ she said weakly.

  A wrinkle of his nose.

  ‘He’s meant to be my father, but he has never.’ and she wagged her finger ‘acted like one. Never.’

  She blinked, eyes fluttering, and a pressure arose from her chest.

  ‘Never…’ she murmured, brow furrowed.

  ‘You sure about that?’ came a voice out of the shadows.

  She spun around, automatically reached for her blade.

  A strong hand gripped at her arm, the blade flashed green as it was slapped from her hand and skittered to the floor.

  ‘No need for that.’ said a friendly smile in the darkness.

  She shut her eyes tightly, collapsing into his embrace. Pushing the pressure and the prickling behind her eyes away.

  ‘Good reflexes though.’ said the voice deep and reassuring.

  She bit her lip then stood, strength returning to her body.

  Kubrean released her from his grip.

  ‘Thanks for the warning.’ she said to Dref.

  The dog smiled back, sarcasm washing over him.

  ‘Shall we…’ offered Kubrean with an inclination of his head.

  She nodded with a sniff, taking a step forward to retrieve her blade from the floor.