Darklight

by Greg L. Turnquist

  “How can you—” The rest of the words stuck in her throat.

  “Snitch, I have been watching you for a long time. I don't often cast spells to knock out soldiers or transport to distant locations. Instead, I use my mentalist skills to divine information. In the past, for King Bainerd. Now, for the Undergrounders. I’ve kept a low profile from the Warex while keeping some stability in our realm. But I have also watched for other mentalists.”

  “No, no, no. I can't be—”

  “I wanted to wait until you were better prepared, but the odds are against us. We have been dragged into a hostile dimension. It's time for you to discover your true potential.”

  “This can't be.” Snitch sat and stared back. “I was shocked by these surroundings. But this?”

  “You could have been driven insane by this place. I wasn't exaggerating. You’ve adapted well, proving your potential. But you must embrace it, or potential is all it will be.”

  “When that second watchman appeared, I used magic?”

  “You cloaked yourself. I am not sure on the specifics. What did your accomplice say later that night?”

  “That would explain—” She stopped mid-sentence. “After James had knocked out the first watchman, he moved up front to scope things out, having never heard the second watchman approach from behind. He was surprised that we made it out in one piece.”

  Glantham’s eyes twinkled as he stared at her.

  Retracing the events, Snitch could see truth. “I still don't understand.”

  “You have a natural instinct for mentalism. That night, you subconsciously channeled energy to be silent. For something that small, the amount of light might not have been noticeable, but bigger spells are more visible.”

  “And here I was thinking I was good at what I did.” Snitch smirked and shook her head.

  “Snitch, you are seeing things backwards. Instead of being a prized thief, you have a bigger potential. Your true destiny isn't a life of petty crime.”

  Glantham was laying something at her feet. It had been dawning on her since joining the Undergrounders. Could she pick it up and embrace it?

  “I’ve passed up lots of opportunities since I joined. But still—this is a lot to take in.”

  “I'm afraid we can't wait any longer. You must start your first lesson.” Glantham stood, prompting her to do the same.

  “First lesson?”

  “We could take more time if we were back in the tunnels, but trust me, we can't hide in here forever.” His voice carried a stern conviction.

  Snitch pressed her lips flat.

  “Now focus your mind on that dagger and levitate it.”

  “You mean . . . lift it into the air?”

  “Yes.”

  Snitch fought back the inner voice telling her how crazy this was—that it was real. She closed her eyes and thought hard, trying to follow Glantham's directions.

  Snitch sat wearing a dejected frown. Her shoulders slumped, her chin hung low. Nothing clicked in her attempts to carry out Glantham’s strange exercise. No dagger hovered in midair.

  “You must relax,” he said. “It will come to you.”

  “Yeah, right. Some natural I am.” Snitch shrugged, cupping her chin in her hands.

  “You are. Believe me, this is the hardest part. Sometimes it helps to use a repetitive phrase to weed out distractions.”

  “There's something I don't understand.” She couldn’t resist changing the subject. “We flew here. You flew us here. Didn't that take a lot more energy than what you used to take out the soldiers?”

  “Yes, an immense amount. If I did that back home, the Warex would have noticed in a heartbeat. But we are in a highly charged dimension right now. They are much more attuned to energy drawn away to other dimensions. Here, it would be like listening for a baby crying in the wind.”

  “I think I get it, but don't quiz me on it, okay?”

  “It’s a lot to grasp, I know,” Glantham said. “But you’ll catch on. Which reminds me, I need to send Gavin a message.”

  “A message? Aren't we a tad far away for that?”

  “Not the way you’re thinking. I need to tell him something.” He sat, legs crossed, and spread his hands on his knees.

  This made no sense. What other tricks did he have up his sleeve?

  “What exactly are you doing?”

  Glantham didn't respond. He sat motionless, staring at Snitch’s dagger sitting on the ground. His eyes didn't blink.

  She leaned in closer. No breathing.

  Watch my body, said a voice inside her head. And ensure that I’m not harmed.

  It sounded like Glantham, even though his mouth didn't move. Figuring she’d have to wait for an explanation, Snitch resigned herself to sit across from him and focus on her exercises. She stared at the dagger.

  Focus, focus, focus. Float, float, float.

  The words droned through her head, over and over.

  Glantham had to signal Gavin. But first, Snitch needed a good shove. This would be hard, but she’d get it. He had hoped for a quicker start, but that had been a foolish expectation. Mental focus and tapping into magical energy would be foreign to anyone.

  Glantham put himself into a deep state of mental focus. His inner being disconnected from his body and floated up into the air. A moment later it dawned on him that Snitch wouldn’t see his wispy form.

  At least not yet.

  Glantham did the next best thing and floated into her mind.

  Watch my body, and ensure that I am not harmed.

  Her startled reaction followed by her sitting and staring eased his thoughts.

  He flew out of the cave. Glancing back, the barrier of darklights afforded good cover.

  For now.

  He shifted his thoughts to the tunnels back home. Drawing on his strongest tactics of concentration, a strong burst of energy welled up inside, and a corridor of purple mist surrounded him. A moment later he was back in the tunnels.

  Did the Warex notice? That would be answered upon return.

  Glantham flitted through the tunnels, not worrying about physical movement or needing any light. He combed the passages, seeking Gavin. The magnitude and complexity was more than anyone could imagine.

  Gavin sat with Terrell on the sixth level. With Glantham and Snitch swept away, he had mustered the will to press on, dragging Terrell along. They'd stopped for what was intended to be a five-minute rest when a nightmarish vision of Glantham flooded his mind and woke him.

  “What! What was that?” He gritted his teeth with the realization he had fallen asleep, who knows how many hours ago.

  “You okay?” Terrell whispered.

  “Yeah. I'm fine. It's nothing,” he replied.

  It’s me, came a voice inside Gavin's head. It sounded like Glantham.

  “What?” Gavin said out loud.

  “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “I—I thought I heard another voice.”

  And you have. It's me, Glantham.

  “Glantham?” Gavin said.

  Terrell's pocket bulb flooded the corridor. He leaned in, looking in each of Gavin’s eyes. “I may be breaking protocol, but I'll guess we're low enough.”

  “Quiet. I think Glantham is trying to talk to me.”

  “What? I thought Glantham and Snitch were gone.” Terrell put his hand on Gavin's forehead. “You don't have a fever. Are you all right?”

  “They may be gone, but I can hear Glantham's voice in my head. So just shut up, okay?”

  It is indeed me. Snitch and I are not dead, but we can't help you. We are trapped in a place you can't reach. Don't worry about us. I assume you are trying to link up with the others that have escaped Base?

  “Glantham and Snitch are alive,” Gavin said out loud. Then he focused and thought, “We are headed that way. Are you sure we can't help you?”

  You don't have the skills to reach us, but Snitch might. Trust me, we may yet escape.

  Trust me. Gavin chuckled at his old friend'
s familiar expression.

  “So, what can we do?” Gavin thought.

  You must seek out the Techs. They have lived in the lowest parts of the tunnels for centuries.

  A map of the tunnels popped into Gavin's mind. A specific route from their current position leading to the rendezvous location and onto an even deeper region of the tunnels was etched into his thoughts. Then, an access hatch code appeared in crisp figures.

  “How can they help us?” Gavin asked.

  They can provide sanctuary. The rest is up to you and the others.

  It sounded like all the help he was going to get.

  “We'll do our best. I just hope you can make it too,” he thought. After that, no more thoughts trickled into his mind except his own. He glanced over at Terrell.

  “We need to find the others. Then we can show everyone a place to work out our next move. Ready?”

  Terrell gave a thumbs-up. He switched off his pocket bulb, and they moved out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Backup

  Melicose stepped out into the early light of the day before the streets of Nartosis, the greatest kingdom of the north. Well, greatest kingdom after Kelmar. His soldiers lined the street in front of him in formation, awaiting inspection. A brisk gust of wind blew, but not a single man flinched. They stood with arms locked, at attention, eyes dead ahead.

  The ruling commander descended and walked through the ranks. Every few feet, he stopped and checked things among his elite soldiers. At the end of the line, he turned to face his troop.

  “I have never seen a more ragged group of soldiers in my life. You are unruly and undisciplined,” he barked. “And I have never been more proud to command such a worthy legion of warriors. Our campaign in the north is almost complete. Little stands between us and supreme victory!”

  What had been stern, stiff soldiers, turned into cheering and whooping. They shook their weapons in the air.

  “Let us celebrate this night. Our great victory in conquering Nartosis, our last major obstacle.”

  Pockets of soldiers cheered, clutching each other, rattling weapons against their shields.

  “Once we crush them, they shall learn true respect.”

  Nartosis thought it could defy Kelmar. They were wrong. Melicose would rule not just a single city-state like those petty monarchs of old. No, he would unify all the kingdoms of the region. His warriors proved that to be true.

  Melicose stared at them with a glint in his eye. Inspection complete, he strode across the street toward his quarters, stopping an officer along the way.

  “Gather the senior staff at once.”

  The man nodded and disappeared.

  Melicose walked into the war room where his entire staff waited.

  The chatter that had been pouring out of the room vanished as their eyes shifted to him.

  “You may have noticed Captain Tor and some of our men were missing the past couple of days as we liberated Nartosis from its despotic rulers. I dispatched him on a secret mission back to Kelmar. They are scheduled to return to the Vice Commander tomorrow, but I assumed by now I’d have gotten word of their progress.” Melicose paced back and forth, wrinkling his lip.

  Some of the men looked at each other, shrugging their eyebrows.

  “The fact that I haven't heard anything worries me. For that reason, I am pulling the Third Cavalry to head back. At once.”

  “Sir, won't that spread us a bit thin?” said one of his lieutenants.

  “With the capture of Nartosis, I'm not worried. The remaining brigades can readjust as they stamp out pockets of resistance. For those of you in charge of Third Cavalry units, prepare to depart in one hour. Dismissed.”

  With orders issued, his staff broke ranks, everyone moving in a different direction.

  Melicose stepped onto the balcony and took one last glance at the amazing victory before he returned to secure another.

  He had already packed his own things before the sun had risen. Having crushed the will of Kelmar, there was no way he’d let the Undergrounders recover any chance of hope.

  Colonel Braknow crumpled up the note in his hands before slamming it on his personal desk. It tipped him off about the capture of the spy on the front lines. He had found it hidden on his back porch after getting home.

  After taking care of Everdell.

  He stood and paced, not sure what to do. Whatever he did wasn’t working, and the Undergrounders had failed as well. At this rate, Melicose’s consolidation of power might finish with no opposition at all.

  His mind raced over everything he knew about Tor’s mission. Not much. He had failed to stop it, but maybe there was a chance. What if the information he’d planned to relay to the Undergrounders was instead sent to the front?

  There were one, maybe two favors he could call in. With the right person it might be possible to sway things in the north. Having made up his mind, the colonel grabbed that ratty old coat he had used earlier.

  Slipping out the back door, he walked to Felder’s Pub & Co., the place to find one particular old friend.

  Entering the musty facility, he scanned the room. Hopefully it wasn’t too late. Locking onto the short guy at the end of the bar, he sidled to the seat next to him.

  “Scotch on the rocks,” he said.

  The barkeep’s eyes glanced up before he poured a shot.

  Braknow grabbed it and muttered, “Good night to get hammered.”

  The man next to him, head slumped in his folded arms, looked up. “What did you say?”

  Good. Not too late for a coherent conversation.

  “I said—” turning to face him, “—good night to get hammered.”

  The man squinted. “Braknow?”

  The colonel grinned back. “Good place to talk?” He tilted his head, eyebrows raised.

  His friend’s eyes turned toward a booth in the back, grabbing his glass as he rose. Despite standing, he only reached five foot eight. The colonel followed him.

  “What draws you out at such a late hour? It can’t be for a walk in the fresh night’s air.”

  “You owe me a favor.” Braknow clasped his hands as he stared.

  His friend’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I knew you’d say that the moment I recognized you in that getup.” He let out a sigh. “Rough times. As much as I’d like to cancel our little debt, I fear it won’t be easy.”

  Braknow leaned in close. “I must send a message to the front. A message that was lost.”

  “Looking for a sympathetic courier?”

  The colonel leaned back, cradling his chin on his knuckles while raising his eyebrows.

  The man’s eyes darted back and forth as he stared at his glass. “I think I know someone. Real young chap, a bit green, but probably just what you need. We can’t talk about it here. A more private location is warranted.”

  Braknow put a couple coins on the table and gestured toward the door.

  “Not now. Too many people have seen us. Security has gotten tight in the past few weeks. No, it’s better if we meet again some time tomorrow. Ten a.m. at that park near your post?”

  “You think slipping away in the middle of my duty shift won’t be noticed?”

  “That’s your problem. Just don’t be late, or it’s off.”

  With those words, the short man downed the remainder of his drink and left.

  Colonel Braknow drummed his fingers on his desk as his feet fidgeted. Everdell had been missing for twenty-four hours, but he’d only heard one person inquire.

  So far.

  He’d suggested she might be sick, feigning ignorance. Sleep didn’t come easy after returning from that encounter. The coffee he’d gulped to compensate took its toll leaving him wired yet yawning.

  Be there at ten a.m. Could he make it? Would anyone question him on the way? Would they get suspicious at this combined with Everdell’s lack of reporting for duty?

  Stop it! Don’t do this to yourself. Focus.

  He clenched his fists to stop exuding
such nervous habits. His military experience may have granted him the skill to act decisively, but he wasn’t used to covering his tracks and maintaining two fronts.

  Braknow stood and tugged at his uniform. Pausing, he pushed his loose hair back into position. He picked up his coffee cup, ready to finish it, before shaking his head with a twisted lip. Putting it down, he headed out.

  “Good morning, Colonel,” spoke a passing officer in the hallway.

  “Good morning, Captain.”

  “Sir, did you forget your field jacket? Seems a bit chilly this morning, and I’ve never seen you without it.”

  Braknow clenched his fist. He hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps he’d brushed off the thought of anyone noticing too fast. “It was damaged. I was going to have my aide look at it, but she’s out.”

  “That’s unfortunate. Sick?”

  “Probably.”

  “Don’t let me keep you, sir.” The captain continued down the hallway.

  Braknow breathed a silent sigh and headed out. Crossing the courtyard, he exited the perimeter with no more questions.

  Traveling a couple blocks, he entered the park where they had agreed to meet. A light wind blew through the trees while the unkempt shrubs shivered. Weeds filled the flowerbeds. The place had grown out of control over the past couple of years, and the number of people had also dwindled.

  On the farthest bench sat the same short man he’d chatted with last night. He had dark lines under his eyes and wore a thick jacket while holding a board under his arm.

  “Care to play?” Braknow asked.

  “By all means, if you wish to indulge an old man.” He set up the board and the two began.

  “So, who do you have to offer?” the colonel asked as he stole a knight with his pawn.

  “A rather young, spritely man, willing to jump in the saddle the minute we’re done. Interested?” He shuffled his bishop into an advantageous position.

  “How do you know we can trust him?”

  “Because he’s already taken out two members of the military to transport other key information. I can’t tell you what and for whom, but he’s committed to our cause.” The old man’s eyes lit up as he spoke, yet they stay glued to the pieces on the board.