The Dark Crown

by S C Gowland

  ‘Yes.’ nodded Morveen.

  Tokel took a deep breath in and out through clenched teeth.

  ‘I want my daughter back with me on the right side.’

  ‘The right side.’ sneered Tokel.

  ‘Yes.’ Morveen barked. ‘The right side. I want my daughters with me again.’

  ‘A little late for Jayk.’ said Tokel, voice now calm and even.

  Morveen lowered her head and turned away as if struck. Romina’s heart was pounding, she felt her limbs turning numb. Kubrean looked toward her, his back still facing Morveen. Romina caught a look in his eyes. He glanced towards the table. She frowned.

  ‘Books.’ he mouthed. ‘Inwards.’

  Romina looked at the shelves. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of books, large and heavy on the surrounding shelves. Between the books and the group stood two circles of black clad warriors, on the upper balcony and the lower floor. All with their backs towards the books and a ring of shields between them and the Walkers.

  She looked at Kubrean and gave the smallest of nods.

  ‘Do not speak his name.’ said Morveen over her shoulder.

  ‘Why not?’ said Tokel taking a half step forward. ‘He was your son, and in your charge as I recall.’ she looked towards Kubrean who mouthed ‘Books, inward.’ to her. She nodded as if agreeing with her own point.

  ‘Do not speak his name again.’ repeated Morveen turning to face Tokel her face white, fists clenched.

  ‘Or?’ said Tokel.

  Morveen breathed out a short laugh and shook her head. ‘ You always knew where to hit. So good at finding the right spot.’ she pointed her finger like a rapier.

  ‘You make it so easy.’ shrugged Tokel.

  ‘Do I really?’

  Tokel nodded. ‘Your emotions always were your biggest strength and your greatest weakness. You wear them so openly, even a blind woman could hit them.’

  ‘Really?’ said Morveen chewing the next words around her mouth like a fine wine.

  Kubrean looked at Kryst and Dalon and mouthed the same words.

  Morveen’s head tilted to one side.

  ‘They lied you know.’ said Morveen, waving her hand in the air. ‘The Grey Council, the Paragon Walker all of them, for centuries.’ she looked around the great library. ‘Walkers created all of this. That is true, but they also created something else. Us.’ she said spreading her hands towards the shield and bow bearers. ‘The Otan are the same as you.’

  Tokel snorted.

  Morveen raised one dark eyebrow. ‘Why so certain?’

  ‘Because something so good, could never create something so bad.’

  It was Morveen’s turn to laugh, it tinkled around the room. She shook her head. ’You know so very little. They have lied to you for so very long that you do not see the truth when it is right in front of you.’

  Tokel stood still, breathing slowly through her nose.

  ‘I used to be like you. Blinded by duty, honour and the great Way of the Walker.’ she spat on the floor. ‘Lies, all of it. It took a loss, a tragic loss…’

  ‘Jayk.’ said Tokel. ‘His name was Jayk.’ her voice like a gunshot.

  Morveen faltered for split second then regained her composure.

  ‘Before I saw the truth, before I saw what was most important.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Peace.’ said Morveen raising her hands.

  ‘Peace through bloodshed is slightly counterproductive wouldn’t you say.’ said Tokel tilting her head to one side.

  ‘The method justifies the means.’ shrugged Morveen. ‘And because the world does not belong to the Walkers. It belongs to us. You resist so very pointlessly. Fighting to prevent what? Peace throughout the world.’

  ‘Peace according to your rules.’ croaked Romina.

  ‘Naturally.’ smiled Morveen.

  ‘Sounds like tyranny to me.’ Romina raised her chin, voice cracking.

  ‘Perhaps, but peace provided by those who see the truth, is still peace. It all depends where you stand. I have seen the truth and we have the power to make it happen. There is only one universal truth within this world, and it is not yours.’ said Morveen with a slow shake of her head. ‘You will see. Trust me.’ she said looking straight into Romina’s eyes.

  Romina shuddered. This was too much. Too much of everything. Her head pulsed, throbbed as though it was about to explode.

  Kubrean looked at Kryst and Dalon and mouthed the same word. ‘Books.’

  Morveen’s eyes narrowed and her head tilted to one side.

  ‘Not thinking of doing anything silly are you old man?’ she called out, brow wrinkled. She shot a look towards Romina, who despite her racing heart, kept her face straight.

  ‘No more than usual’. said Kubrean voice level.

  Morveen smirked. Crisp footsteps echoed around the room; a black clad warrior walked towards Morveen. She half turned towards him but hesitated looking straight at Romina.

  Romina tensed, her jaw trembling. She swallowed, trying not to look suspicious. Her mother still looking towards her for what felt like an eternity before turning towards the bowing Otan soldier.

  Romina looked at Kubrean and nodded.

  ‘On three.’ Kubrean whispered.

  She took a deep breath in quietly, flicked a glance at Lauden - crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood - then immediately regretted it. She began gathering Fajin energy inside her, feeling the reassuring prickle in her chest and arms.

  ‘One.’ murmured Kubrean

  It fizzed, warm and familiar.

  ‘Two.’ he said curling his fingers into fists.

  She raised her eyes towards her mother. Who looked over and immediately saw the danger.

  ‘Three.’ roared Kubrean launching himself to his feet.

  All noise within the room stopped for a split second – Morveen began raising her hand - then it was although a hurricane had landed on top of them. There was a rush of wind which made Romina’s ears ring. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

  Tokel sprang forward pushing her arms out before her, the air around her rippling with energy.

  Morveen threw herself to the ground covering her head with her hands, as the Otan warrior beside her stood rooted to the spot.

  The release of Fajin from Romina felt like a form of ecstasy, she had never felt such power, such hatred, such pent up anger exploding from within her. She screamed like an animal, primal sounds from somewhere inside her.

  Kryst and Dalon turned and threw their arms out.

  There was a tug at each of them, like all the air within the room had suddenly been sucked into the centre. Followed by a boom of thunder, as hundreds of books burst outwards from their shelves straight into the backs and heads of the surrounding Otan soldiers. A blizzard of books filled with the noise of cracking bones, the dull thud of heavy ledgers driven into ribs, legs and arms. The shields the Otan held forming the other side of a terrible anvil. Archers attempted to release their bows but were drowned in an avalanche of wood, masonry and leather bound paper.

  Grunts, groans accompanied screams, as heads twisted, snapped around to loll at unnatural angles; bodies dropped. Light flickered and shone all around the room - yellow, pink, blue - orbs emerging from corpses.

  Romina felt Fajin energy flowing through her, she stretched her arms out as the scream faded, but with a final effort - her neck and head trembling - she closed her eyes and dug deeper. Every muscle in her body burning with a scolding pain; she felt lightheaded, dizzy but so very alive.

  It was chaos. The noise of heavy wooden bookcases - three times the height of a man – creak and snap before crashing down ripped from the walls, stone fell like rain onto screaming Otan soldiers.

  ‘Out!’ yelled Kubrean his voice somehow audible above the deafening sound all around them.

  Romina opened her eyes, dust and light mingled in the air; paper fluttered around them. Kubrean’s voice cut through the fog and her mind was once again clear.
r />   ‘The door. Make for the door.’ he shouted pointing towards the staircase.

  A group of Otan soldiers stood ready on the stairs, purple blades in their hands.

  Walkerblades leapt from scabbard to hand – the reassuring feel of cold hard metal in her hand as Romina snarled. The room flashed green.

  As if they were one; Kubrean, Kryst, Romina, Dalon and Tokel charged forwards, weapons in hand to engage the Otan.

  ***

  Light surrounded Aralorne, illuminating him like some sort of god. His face serene. A boom reverberated around them; the grating noise of moving stone finally gone.

  Kaoldan turned to check on Zahara, she smiled weakly, face pale.

  ‘You good?’ he asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘You sure?’

  She waved him away, embarrassed.

  A gasp made Kaoldan turn.

  Aralorne raised his hands to cover his mouth, shaking his head slowly. Even Dref sat by his side was transfixed.

  Squinting Kaoldan peered along the line of the black stone wall to the gap that had been created which shone with the power of the sun. He left his Blade embedded in the wall and walked to the apex joined by the others.

  The sight that greeted them was one of pure light, a half circle scooped out of the wall containing a glowing white pillar a section missing from its centre. There was something in the gap.

  Kaoldan looked towards Nova.

  The old man grinned back eyeing the object and nodded.

  Kaoldan swallowed and stretched out his neck, before taking a tentative step forward. The object in the middle of the pillar shimmered, then moved. He hesitated. It moved again. Twisting and turning, like a worm on a hook.

  He licked his lips. The oily liquid wriggled - he took another step – it stopped front end turning towards him as if sensing his approach.

  He glanced back at Zalen. Black liquid rippled and squirmed. The blonde Walker blew out a laugh and shook his head.

  ‘Thanks’ said Kaoldan voice strained, not really meaning it. A patting sound. He became aware he was patting his hand against his thigh. He glanced at the liquid and took a deep breath – “it is better to do it than live with the fear of it” a wise man had once written.

  Kaoldan steeled himself and moved forward holding his breath. He reached toward the liquid – it rippled and flexed. His fingers stopped at the edges of the column, it felt like he was pushing his hand into cold mud. He leaned in locking his shoulder. The liquid reached towards him - skimming the edge of his fingers - it felt like ice. He winced as he closed his fingers around the black eel; it was cold, so very cold. Pulling his hand back there was a burst of light then silence. He staggered back, right hand cold, but with no movement.

  He looked down, in his hand sat a disc of black metal, flat and shiny, nothing like he had been expecting. Nova frowned and straightened.

  Kaoldan inspected both sides of the disc. Other than being cold there was nothing special about it. He stuffed it into a small bag which hung from his belt.

  Dref stood head turning.

  ‘Nothing to it.’ said Zalen with a grin. ‘Easy…’

  The fur of the back of Dref’s neck stood up.

  ‘I would hardly describe any of this as being easy.’ said Nova tartly.

  Dref let out a low growl.

  ‘Do you want it?’ said Kaoldan offering him the bag.

  Zalen backed away as if being offered a snake.

  Kaoldan smiled, tied it to his belt and began to flex his hand trying to shake out the pins and needles in his fingers.

  ‘I’ll have it.’ came a voice loud and clear from the other side of the room.

  The group tensed looking towards the noise.

  ‘I do believe,’ announced the voice ‘That you have saved me a great deal of trouble.’

  Kaoldan squinted his eyes searching.

  ‘Where are my manners?’ the voice smiled. There was a spark, a dull glow of light, which dropped and then was thrown high into the air, it burst outwards like a firework, bathing the room with light. Yellow streams of light stretched out - a golden tree - shimmering, hanging in the air.

  A tall figure moved forwards flanked on either side by several dark soldiers carrying glowing purple weapons.

  Kaoldan hesitated, eyes darting.

  The figure raised both its arms and grasped: with a grunt Nova and Zahara spasmed and froze as if gripped by invisible hands. They were pulled backwards towards the tall stranger bodies twitching as they floated through the air, coming to a halt in the middle of the room.

  ‘Now.’ he said. ‘Let’s make this very simple. You will hand over what you have just taken, and I will allow both to live.’ he teased with a smile as he walked forward.

  Kaoldan’s head throbbed, heart racing, eyes flickered between them.

  The stranger continued to walk forwards, then stopped moving as he emerged from the darkness.

  Kaoldan saw before him a tall lean looking man dressed in black. The black of the Otan he now realised. A smile crept over his white face as he looked at his two prisoners. His hair was shoulder length, dark with silver. A black cloak flapped to reveal weapons and the dull glint of armour.

  ‘So what is it to be?’ he asked, ‘You do as I say, or do I have to kill one of these two.’ He frowned, looking between them, then grinned, his eyes straight at Kaoldan. ‘In fact, let’s make this interesting shall we. You choose.’

  Kaoldan felt his heart bring gripped with ice, the horrific realisation swept through his body

  ‘So, who is it to be? The old man or the girl?’ he nodded towards them, but didn’t take his eyes of Kaoldan.

  Kaoldan looked on in horror. How could he possibly choose between his daughter and his oldest friend?

  ‘But where are my manners?’ he said with a half bow. ‘Let me introduce myself. I am Rhazien, Master of Shadows and leader of the Otan. I believe you have met my Protector, Ormrik.’ he nodded to his left.

  Another dark figure emerged from the gloom, hulking with menace.

  Ormrik moved forward slowly pulling his blade from its scabbard it flashed purple into a double-ended glaive. It was the older man Kaoldan had fought in the woods.

  ‘You know that since our last encounter I have very much fallen in love with this weapon again.’ Ormrik’s gravelly voice said. ‘I hope to use it again very soon with a very different ending.’ a grim smile appeared on his face. He dug one end of the glaive into the marble floor with a gritty scratch.

  Fingers flexed, but nobody moved.

  Silence.

  ‘Come, come.’ said Rhazien tapping his foot, ‘Please don’t keep me waiting for too long. I may be forced to act impulsively.’ he shrugged. ‘It is one of my less appealing qualities according to my wife.’ he said. ‘I believe you know her. I believe you know her very well.’

  The words were lost on Kaoldan; he gritted his teeth, options and choices flying round his head like leaves in a storm, but at the back of his mind cold and grim was the knowledge that he would lose something.

  Rhazien pursed his lips and cleared his throat. ‘Well…’ he said drawing out the word.

  Kaoldan looked between the two.

  Rhazien sighed and twisted his right hand clockwise Nova's body spasmed and jerked inwards with a sickening crack, his head slumped.

  Kaoldan shuddered a wave of horror, enveloping his body.

  Rhazien flicked his wrist and Nova's lifeless body dropped to the floor.

  Revulsion spasmed through Kaoldan's body.

  ‘Oopppsss…’ said Rhazien. ‘Was that the wrong one?’ he pointed to the mangled mess that was Nova’s body.

  Kaoldan glanced at Zahara held helplessly in Rhazien's left hand. His hands shook, scrambling for the bag at his belt.

  ‘Okay.’ he called voice trembling.

  He pulled the bag from his belt; he knew he had no choice; he could not lose another child. ‘Alright.’ he said softly. ’Take it.’

  ‘Now that is bet
ter.’ said Rhazien a smile of satisfaction appearing on his face. ‘A sensible man, a rational man, and a man with whom I can do business.’ he said beckoning Kaoldan with his right hand.

  Kaoldan quietly stepped forward, removing the bag from his belt. He hefted it in his hand and held it up in front of him.

  Rhazien shook his head. ‘You bring it to me.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Kaoldan, surprised himself by his reaction.

  Rhazien’s raised an eyebrow, he silently laughed to himself turning to share the joke with a grinning Ormrik.

  ‘Because I wish it.’ said Rhazien.

  Kaoldan took a breath and began walking. ‘Don’t do anything rash.’ he said eyes locked on the Master of Shadows, ‘And this is yours.’ he dangled the bag in front of him.

  The guards either side of Rhazien shuffled sideways outwards enveloping Kaoldan forming a wall, separating him from the rest of the Walkers. Kaoldan slowly stepped forwards towards Rhazien continuing to hold the bag in front of him. Ormrik stood at the side, arms folded around his glaive watching Kaoldan with fascination.

  ‘Good boy.’ he said sarcastically. ‘It is good that you know your place.’

  Kaoldan flicked a hateful glance at Ormrik but continued forwards.

  ‘Leave it on the ground just there.’ said Rhazien pointing to a space on the floor twelve feet in front of Kaoldan.

  Kaoldan mouth was dry, he glanced at Ormrik then at Rhazien. The sound of tramping boots ceased the Otan soldiers had reached their destination. Lips tight Kaoldan stepped forward and placed the bag on the floor in front of him, it hit the floor with a metallic ring.

  ‘Now back away.’ said Rhazien, flicking his hand as if dismissing a peasant. Jaw tight Kaoldan moved backwards, eyes not leaving Rhazien.

  ‘Enough.’ said Rhazien.

  ‘Good boy.’ said Ormrik from Kaoldan’s left; he ignored the words.

  Rhazien moved forward slowly and gracefully, as if out for a morning stroll. He began to bend down to pick up the bag when a black object hurtled towards him with incredible speed. With a growl and a snap Dref sank his teeth into Rhazien’s right forearm.

  He screamed in pain, grabbing at his arm with his left hand, attempting to wrestle it free from the giant dog’s vice like grip. He released Zahara from his grip, she flopped to the floor, shaking her head.