Darklight

by Greg L. Turnquist

  “Crazy talk. The reason you were caught was because you were too stupid to not get back before daybreak. This time, we'll do it right.” Jerell could always coax his buddy.

  “Hey, moron, that was all your fault. You dared me to play your dumb drinking contest.”

  Despite his own objections, Michael climbed down the tree next to the window. “This time I’m not playing any drinking games, got it?” Michael wagged his finger.

  “All right.”

  Jerell slapped him on the back, and they scurried off.

  “Hey, I hear there’s a party over at Flen’s.” Jerell jabbed his buddy on the elbow. “Supposed to be a bunch of people. What do you say?” He pointed his thumb to the end of the street and lifted his eyebrows.

  “Are you about to promise girls, too? That's what I fell for last time. 'Party' probably means three other guys as stupid as you.”

  Jerell didn't admit his friend might be right. Instead, he held out his hands, waiting for an alternative. Hearing nothing, Jerell turned and they both walked to Flen's. Entering, they spotted a dozen others, including some friends.

  “I told you there were more than three people,” Jerell said, elbowing Michael.

  “And the girls?” Michael looked at him with a drawn-out face.

  “I never said anything about girls. Ease up.”

  The two of them circulated, found the bar, and grabbed a beer.

  “So, want to find some other people and play Jitters?” Jerell hoped he could get his friend to ease up.

  “I told you, idiot, I'm not playing any drinking games.”

  “Just kidding.” Jerell held up his hands in surrender before taking a sip.

  Jerell and his buddy chatted with everyone, even if they were all losers. After a few rounds, they left.

  “That party didn't have much life. How did you hear about it?” Michael asked.

  “Friend of a friend. I'll keep that in mind the next time he tells me anything.”

  And not invite him to anything either.

  “You should keep that in mind whenever you talk to anybody.” Michael laughed.

  The two stumbled along the street into an alley.

  “This isn't the way to Geno's,” Michael said.

  “Who said anything about going to Geno's?”

  “I did." Burp! "Ten minutes ago.” Michael looked back with wide eyes. “Just a second.” He faced the wall and relieved himself.

  Jerell rolled his eyes before doing the same.

  “No you didn’t.” Jerell was warming inside. “And we're not going there. That guy is no fun at all.”

  To make his point, Jerell walked in the opposite direction. Stumbling through rubbish, he hit something hard.

  “Ow! What the—”

  Jerell spotted a hatch with a handle poking out. He turned the handle and opened it before peering into the gloominess.

  “Look at that,” he slurred.

  “What?”

  “Like I said, Geno is boring. Let's check this out.” Jerell looked further into the tunnel but couldn't see much.

  “And do what? Any beer down there? You’ll do anything for a kick.”

  Jerell had overheard his parents talking in whispers about the tunnels when they thought he was in his room.

  “My folks say they connect to the stores. The rich use them to store their stuff. All the scary stories are just to keep everyone away.”

  “Now look, snatching that soldier's helmet and hanging it on top of the gates was funny. Grabbing apples from the shop keeper was all right, but this is . . . crazy. Some of the worst criminals lurk down there. Let's just find another party, okay?”

  “Criminals? That’s what I’m talking about, scary bedtime stories. I tell you what, you go to the party. I'm going somewhere else.”

  Jerell picked up his lantern and descended. The shadows on the walls were chased away by his light. He looked up at Michael leaning on the hatch.

  “There’s a turn here, probably leads right to that shop across the street.”

  Michael looked across the street, licked his lips, and looked back down.

  “You sure you want to sit up there and bore yourself to death?”

  His buddy couldn't resist.

  Jerell had already walked through the turn when Michael joined him.

  Squeak—boom!

  The hatch closed. Sounds ricocheted off the walls for several seconds before fading away.

  Michael scrambled back up the ladder. He pulled and pushed on the handle. It didn't budge.

  “Give me that.” Michael snatched the lantern, holding it close to the hatch. “It’s got dials. And markings. Writing, I don’t know. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  He spun them and tried the handle again. Nothing. Several more combinations, and he climbed down in a huff.

  Jerell stared as the alcohol wore off.

  Without a word, Michael handed him the lantern and they set off.

  Snitch awoke. Weak, purple light faded from the edge of her vision. She sat up, covered in a cold sweat.

  She remembered rumors of a couple boys lost in the tunnels and how it had been blamed on the Undergrounders. Seeing a dream of their true fate made her tremble. Shaking her head didn’t rid her of the vision. They were almost as old as she was.

  Scrounging around for her pocket bulb, she found it covered by her pack. She must have knocked it over. Picking it up, she spotted a small book.

  Where did this dog-eared book come from?

  Snitch fingered its rough, leathery surface. The cover had one word, ADASAN.

  What did that mean?

  She turned it over in her hands, not having a clue where it came from.

  Snitch started to flip through it, but pages not before seen appeared, causing her to drop it. Based on its thickness, it couldn't be more than a hundred pages and yet many more had flown by.

  She picked it back up, this time turning slower. Eight hundred pages passed before she gave up, chuckling. The ending must be too good to find out.

  What should she do with it?

  “Glantham thinks I have a knack for magic. Maybe I can’t levitate a dagger, but I hid from a pack of Warex. Perhaps—”

  Sitting cross-legged, Snitch put the book in the front of her and focused her thoughts.

  She reimagined images of fluttering pages, turning the memory over and over.

  A slight glow formed, reinforcing her confidence. Snitch gritted her teeth and shut out all other thoughts and sounds. Although more pale than what Glantham commanded, the light grew until it outshone her pocket bulb.

  It crept out beyond Snitch and engulfed the book causing it to open up. Pages turned, moving faster than before. Eight hundred pages weren't close to what this book contained.

  The same image in her mind played out in front of her. In her heart, Snitch sensed something looking at her. Had someone discovered her?

  Her mind was flooded with doubts, and she lost her concentration.

  The book fell to the ground as the light vanished.

  Snitch clenched her fists and looked over her shoulder. No one. The feeling of being watched had vanished.

  Squinting her eyes, she peered back at the book.

  “Was that you?” she said with a smirk on her face.

  Resuming her focus, the book floated as before and the presence resurfaced. Only this time, Snitch reached out with her mind to greet it. The closer she got, the stranger it seemed. Instead of reaching back, it moved away. Was it evading her?

  Snitch's mind climbed over each page, trying to catch it. She chased it over words and paragraphs. After several hundred pages, the book paused. Her mind flipped back a few dozen pages. The pursuit had landed her on a certain page which called to her.

  Reaching out with her hands, she grabbed the book. The light subsided, but the strange aura emanating from the book did not. The book wanted her to read this section. And so she did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Negotiation

>   Gavin strode various corridors and hallways until he entered the cafeteria.

  Rodrina sat a table next to Terrell. She glared at him, her arms crossed.

  “She's going to be all right,” Gavin said. “Can you imagine hearing news like that?”

  “If I'd known—” Terrell muttered.

  “It's okay. She just needs time to adjust.”

  “Why didn't you tell us?” Rodrina said, shifting her stare to Gavin.

  “We were about to be ambushed. Getting back to Base to evacuate was critical.”

  “You're always so caught up in the military aspect that you never consider the political angle.” Rodrina squawked.

  “Not everything is a radical political movement. I focus on getting things done and leave political debates to the busy bodies.” The nerve of that woman. Sometimes her ideological priorities were too much to stomach.

  “Everything is political. Haven't you figured that out? Look around. See where we are.” Rodrina swept her arm, gesturing at everyone.

  Some stopped eating.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Gavin gulped.

  “The reason we're down here and Melicose is up there is because he used both political and military tactics. Maybe your lofty King Bainerd was noble and honorable despite upholding an antiquated and oppressive form of government.

  “But there were still plenty of problems. Melicose knew that and kept punching where it hurt, accusing the Royalists of being the problem.

  “Guess what. Enough believed him that it didn't matter if he was lying or would become an even worse tyrant. A huge number still support him today because he’s played the political game smarter than we ever did!”

  Rodrina had risen to her feet, and her voice had grown with comparable volume.

  “Who are we? Nothing but a handful of Royalist soldiers teamed up with petty thieves. Do you expect the people to rise up and support that?”

  Gavin lifted his eyebrows as he glanced around. The entire room was silent as everyone stared at Rodrina.

  She paused, her mouth open, and sat, taking a deep breath. “What I'm trying to say is, we aren't going to win with military tactics alone. Terrell may have brought us exactly what we need to overthrow Melicose and curry the favor of the people.”

  Gavin stared around at the crowd before glancing back to Rodrina.

  “That's why you're important to us,” he said. “You know how politics work.” Gavin extended an open hand. It probably wasn't the reaction she had expected, but she was right, and this wasn’t the time to stick to old arguments.

  Rodrina clasped it with a smile.

  A collective sigh was let out by everyone in the room.

  “Why do you think the duke went to such great lengths to hide his existence?” Rodrina asked.

  “If the people found out about Duke Renault, it would shatter Melicose's credibility.”

  A smile spread across her face. “And he knows it.”

  Rodrina's lecture had drawn in several others.

  “Terrell carried orders Melicose didn’t entrust to his own chain of command,” she said.

  Gavin leaned back in his seat, sifting through the facts. “They feared any leak would destroy military morale.”

  “To top it off, they even hid his identity from their trusted courier.”

  Rodrina nodded along. “Melicose built his power on overthrowing Royalists, and here he is, teamed up with the most corrupt one ever known.”

  She sat back, smiling.

  His eyes widened as he put together the point she was making. “We could spread word about his existence and fracture his support. Drive a wedge between him and the military.”

  Rodrina looked down with her finger on her lip. Staring at her coffee cup, she muttered, “No.”

  “Then, what?” Gavin slid to the edge of his seat. The propensity of this woman to turn any idea into a lesson was often too much. Then it hit him. The idea Rodrina was pitching must have come to her back when Terrell revealed the duke’s existence. She wove yet another long-winded political tale.

  Rodrina traced the lip of her cup with her finger, her eyes down.

  “A rumor would never work. The people who need to believe it, won't.” She looked up at Gavin and pursed her lips. “We have to capture the duke and expose him. To everyone.”

  Gavin's mouth opened wide and he blinked. No wonder she feared blurting it out.

  “That—that would never work. You're suggesting we waltz into the central palace, box up the duke, and walk out? It's impossible with an army, let alone a single company. Why do you think we haven't overthrown him yet?”

  “I know, but it’s the only way to checkmate Melicose. And to pull it off, we need your military savvy.” With those words, Rodrina stared straight into Gavin’s eyes. No look of condescension or tedious talking points. Instead, all he heard were the words she had shared the other night.

  Everyone started talking.

  Rodrina stood amidst the frenzy and carried her coffee cup to the dispenser.

  The woman was brazen. That was for sure. And what had he done to encourage her to bring forth ideas? Nothing. Gavin jumped to his feet and walked up beside her.

  She looked back, eyebrows raised.

  Facing the room, Gavin shouted, “As you were!”

  The room turned silent.

  “Rodrina has proposed the most outrageous idea I’ve ever heard. Get to grips with the fact that we’re going to make it happen. Melicose has made a huge mistake, and everyone will know about it.”

  The room cheered.

  Looking down at her, the corners of her mouth turned upward.

  “I suggest we speak with Director Fiona at once.” A timid voice reached across the room. Clarel stood in the doorway. “Who knows. We might convince them to help us.”

  Rodrina rushed over and hugged her.

  Terrell stood and extended his hand.

  She clasped it.

  This was the team Gavin sought. These were people with a purpose.

  Gavin, along with Rodrina and Clarel, navigated the tiny, moving room that carried them to the level of the director’s office. The whole time, Gavin brooded over whether or not they would even get in. Their previous encounter had ended rather icy.

  “We need to see the director at once.” Clarel glared at the receptionist.

  Gavin quirked an eyebrow. He had assumed he’d be badgering their way in, not watching Clarel take the lead.

  The man glanced up with a huff. Without a word, he stood and knocked. “Director, it appears some of the Undergrounders wish to see you.”

  “Send them in.”

  The aide opened the door.

  They entered.

  Director Fiona was stacking papers before she motioned them to sit.

  “I take it you aren't here to discuss the food.” Her frozen, political face was obvious.

  Rodrina’s eyes squinted, staring between the director and Clarel.

  “Director, we have just learned a vital piece of intelligence regarding Melicose. It may be of some benefit to you.” Clarel clasped her hands with one finger leaning against her lower lip.

  Was she baiting the director with a hint of valuable information?

  Fiona's eyes raised then shifted. “Exactly what is this intelligence you speak of?”

  “Melicose is in league with the Duke Renault.”

  Gavin spied Rodrina’s mouth open, her eyes widening. Was Clarel laying their cards on the table too quickly? Rodrina’s reaction hinted that a more subtle dance should have been taken.

  “Duke Renault? He’s dead. Your information is mistaken.”

  That was expected, considering the whole realm knew the man had been executed. Rodrina smirked, and her look slid over to Clarel.

  “I'm afraid you're the one who is mistaken. Our latest recruit, who only joined us two days ago, worked for the duke and didn't know it. He described the man's features and habits in clear detail.” Clarel maintained a calm, sincere sou
nding voice. She reclined in her chair, resting her hands on her knees. “He was shocked when we alerted him to the man’s identity.”

  “And what grants you the expertise to judge such clues from a distance?” The director tilted her head forward.

  “What grants me the expertise? I'm his daughter, Clarel Renault. Of course you've met Gavin, the captain of King Bainerd's royal guard and the man who arrested Duke Renault. I think we are qualified to judge the credibility of this information.”

  Gavin’s chest warmed as the director’s smug look was replaced with an open mouth.

  Rodrina eased back in her chair a little.

  Fighting to not laugh, a corner of Gavin’s mouth twitched. Clarel’s plan to appear weak up front, saving her strike for now, had granted her the upper hand.

  “Melicose is working with the duke?” The director laid her hands flat.

  “Yes. They appear to have been involved in this alliance for some time. In fact, Terrell handled top secret business Melicose wouldn't entrust to his own chain of command.”

  Director Fiona walked out from behind her desk, no longer hiding. “If Melicose is conducting business too sensitive for even his highest military officers, it indicates a definite weakness in his power base.” She nodded while staring at the floor.

  The icy wall between them was gone.

  “Exactly.” Rodrina gestured at the director. “He hasn't consolidated enough power to mitigate the risk of the duke's discovery.”

  “Or to get rid of him altogether.” Fiona had a smirk on her face.

  “That’s possible but irrelevant. If we got into the palace and captured Duke Renault, we could expose his existence to everyone,” Rodrina said. “It would destabilize his entire regime. Might even break the morale of his campaign and rally other resistance groups.”

  “Invade the palace? Do you seriously think you could pull that off?” The director grimaced at Rodrina's idea.

  “We can’t,” Gavin said. Moving past the tension, it was time to talk tactics. “That would suggest a large, frontal assault. Odds would be better if we snuck in with a small team. We hoped you might help with that.”

  Fiona stared at Gavin for a few moments before returning to her desk. She pushed a button on a small box and said, “Bring me Colonel Townsend.”