Darklight

by Greg L. Turnquist

  “Yes, ma'am,” came a voice from inside the box.

  Gavin had never seen such a device, but he was getting used to these surprises.

  Knock, knock.

  “Come.”

  A tall man with wiry hair entered.

  Gavin inspected his stature and thick boots. This was someone he could converse with. No more of these political games, at least for the moment. Though Rodrina was surely calculating the next one.

  “Colonel, thank you for joining us.” The director waved toward one of the open chairs.

  “Yes, ma'am. What can I do?”

  Director Fiona summarized the conversation.

  “We hoped you could offer us some tactical advantage to sneak into the palace with a small contingent,” Gavin said. “I don't think darklights are going to cut it.”

  Fiona's eyes opened wide. “What did you say?”

  “I was asking if there was some tactical advantage the Colonel might suggest—”

  “No, you said darklights. Where did you hear about those?”

  Gavin pulled one out of his pocket, fingering it. “We have lots of them.”

  “But where did you find them?”

  Gavin eyed the director’s face as it turned red. The woman’s mouth squeezed together and her fists clinched.

  “Glantham showed us. We use them to enter and exit the tunnels. They were critical in escaping the invasion.”

  “Glantham!” She slammed the desk, falling into her chair. After a few seconds, her features relaxed as she let out a sigh. “The last time we saw him, he had discovered them. He asked about taking a few, and I said that was impossible.

  “He had repaired key systems and provided us with incredible information. That’s one of the reasons we extended the rare courtesy of letting him go. But when he pressed us on darklights, I stood firm. They are one of the rarest forms of technology left behind by our ancestors. They, along with many things you have yet to see, would put us at grave risk should Topciv discover them. He clearly didn't accept our answer. How he did it is a mystery because we searched him thoroughly before he departed.”

  The director's fist remained balled up, though less tense.

  “And Glantham is Glantham.” Gavin grinned.

  Fiona smirked as she made eye contact.

  “Director, if you'll pardon me.” Colonel Townsend pointed to the large table at the other end of the director’s office.

  Fiona gestured her consent.

  Gesturing at Gavin, the colonel pulled out a handful of papers and thumbed through them before picking one.

  Gavin joined him.

  “There are a couple of tunnel access points inside the palace. That would be your best bet.” He pointed at hatch on the map. “If you know where the duke's quarters are, we can pick the best option and use the other as a backup. It's best if we move early in the morning, say 0500, to avoid the first shift of soldiers.”

  “We?” Gavin squinted.

  “I’ve studied these plans for a long time, and I'm pretty sure you aren’t familiar with this section of the tunnels. To be frank, you need me.” The colonel looked at the director.

  She gave a silent acknowledgement.

  “All right, you’ve convinced me.” Gavin held his hands up and sat.

  The colonel continued, “If you have up-to-date information on the soldiers’ uniforms, we can mock up outfits to blend in. I propose a contingent of no more than three. You, me, and one other.”

  “Perfect. Let me fetch Terrell. He’ll have the most up-to-date information. As to our third man, the sergeant will be perfect.”

  He motioned toward Clarel, and she stood and left to fetch them.

  As Gavin continued to discuss plans with the colonel, he noticed out of the corner of his eye how Rodrina quirked her lip before straightening it out. He didn’t know anything about her upbringing, but Gavin was comforted that he wasn’t the only one shaking off old habits.

  Slipping into the park, Colonel Braknow stood in the same place he had the day before. This time with different eyes. Having changed out of his uniform and into a dusty, old outfit, he slid onto a bench. Did he fit in? That would soon tell.

  His eyes wandered across each bench until they locked onto the same short man that had beaten him at chess. Same location, same direction, playing himself on his small board. Braknow had gambled on that by entering the park from his backside.

  The man had been his friend for years. Lots of missions, many toasted ales. But today everything was different. He was now a means to an objective. Approaching him with a plan wouldn’t do, especially given that the man had lied about the previous mission.

  Wind shuddered through the trees and blew the colonel’s hair around. He resisted the urge to brush it back. His clothes were part of some old, threadbare ones he was about to throw out. Topped with the homeless man’s coat from two nights ago, the colonel hoped he could play the part.

  After about an hour, the short man rose and gathered his game pieces and board. He turned toward the colonel and crossed the park.

  Resisting the temptation to turn away, Braknow leaned against his bench, eyes on the ground.

  His friend passed maybe twenty feet away on the path.

  Another thirty seconds, and Braknow snuck a glance.

  His objective headed to the same exit point the colonel had entered.

  Before the short man reached it, the colonel resumed his nonchalant pose. Hands stuffed in his pockets, Braknow started counting. Giving his objective time to reach the edge of the park and scan for followers required patience. Reaching two hundred, the colonel stood and followed.

  The Raven was in flight.

  Passing a grove of trees, the objective was a block past the exit of the park, headed in the expected direction.

  The colonel crossed to the opposite side but continued along the same heading.

  Several blocks later, his objective veered into an alley.

  Braknow's mouth trembled. Confrontation wasn’t something he had planned for, but what would happen next was up for grabs. At the corner, he waited a minute before peeking.

  The alley was littered with trash cast along the various doorways, each connected by a short set of steps. Five doors down, the short man stood, fidgeting with his hands in his pockets, board tucked in his arm. The door opened, and he stepped in. A few minutes later, he exited.

  Braknow dropped to the ground against the wall. He flipped up the collar of the jacket, pulled it high, and rolled up against the edge of the wall connecting to the sidewalk.

  “Oof!” The short man rounded the corner and stumbled into him.

  “Hey!” Braknow waved his arm without lifting his head.

  “Out of my way,” the short man yelled as he passed.

  Giving his objective plenty of time to walk away, Braknow entered the alley, crossing to the same entrance. He banged on the door.

  It cracked open.

  Braknow slammed it wide. Thrusting his body forward, he pinned the person who peeked.

  “You’re going to tell me what you just told him.” This was a big gamble, assuming his objective was contacting the key links and that none of them would recognize him.

  “I . . . I . . . ” The woman stared, her mouth open.

  Braknow’s eyes swept the small corridor. Seeing no one else, he pulled her away from the door and closed it. Dragging her back into her hole-in-the-wall apartment, he set her in a chair. He drew a short dagger and held it to her abdomen, his hand gripping her shoulder. He glared at her without opening his mouth. Less talking dialed up the pressure, and he needed every ounce.

  Her eyes glared at the knife as she folded her lips. Then she let out a breath and slumped. “He said our source was captured and not to expect news for days. I told him to work on the source. I would tell the others through our established drops.” Sweat formed on the side of her face.

  The colonel eased his grip on her shoulder and put the knife away. “Good.” He let out a big sigh,
not realizing he had stopped breathing. “Let him stew. I have something for you.” He produced the sealed letters from his inner pocket and shoved them into her hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Your source was indeed captured. This is what you were supposed to get. All of you.” He licked his lips. A nervous habit that was hard to shake. “These are directly from The Raven.”

  Her eyes opened wide, looking at the letters and then at him.

  “Your contact will probably get himself killed if he tries to fix things. I fear his connections have dried up, but he doesn’t know it.”

  “Why not tell him?” The panicked look in the woman’s face had disappeared as she slipped the letters into her pocket.

  He stared at the ground and muttered, “Because if he’s spotted with me, he’ll be dead.”

  She looked back and forth, silently mouthing words, before looking back at him with a single tear. “Bless you.”

  The colonel couldn’t even muster a grin. “I don’t know the next time you’ll get a report. Can you make sure the others get this one?”

  She patted her pocket, nodding.

  His thoughts soared to his next move.

  Chapter Twenty

  An Escape

  Snitch spent hours reading. Page after page, she drank it in, but the process wore her out. While it tired her, the reading also granted her a sense of calm—a necessity after that nightmare with the two boys and running for almost twenty-four hours with little rest. She fell asleep with the book sprawled on top of her.

  Bolting upright, awake, a dim, purple light subsided around her. How long had she slept? A nudge at the corner of her mind suggested all night and halfway into the next day.

  A sharp pain pierced her head.

  “Glantham. Glantham! Ow!” She clutched her head. Hands drenched in sweat, her temple throbbed. “Ahh! They’re torturing Glantham.”

  Snitch crawled to her feet, but another pang caused her to double over and fall to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she focused her thoughts, and a bit of light emanated from her hands toward her head.

  The pain vanished.

  Sleeping must have opened her to external attack. Maintaining a mental guard would be critical. Could the Warex step things up and break through? She’d soon find out.

  Rescuing Glantham was critical. Her next move? She wasn't sure, but somehow that magical link the Warex had used was the key. Her eyes narrowed as an idea formed.

  “Maybe if I let them reach me partially, I can find out where he is.”

  Snitch sat, both to focus and to avoid falling, should it fail. She concentrated her thoughts and relaxed her mental grip just a bit, then some more.

  Nothing. She eased up a little more.

  “Ugh!” She winced as a wave of pain rippled through her mind.

  Her reflexes brought her mental shield back up and the pain subsided. Goose bumps formed on her arms.

  Snitch started again, meditating with increased resolve. A bit of light emanated, and she lowered her defenses a little quicker. Another wave of pain flooded her body.

  Her head throbbed while her arms and legs burned. Snitch used every scrap of determination to ignore it.

  I focus on the situation and circumstances; the pain does not affect me. I focus on the situation and circumstances; the pain does not affect me.

  A rough image entered her mind's eye. It was dull, but after a few seconds, came into focus. A giant wall. A familiar wall. The one at the top of the steps she had seen earlier.

  Snitch squeezed her lips together, focusing on the image instead of the pain.

  Staring at the wall, a giant entranceway stood out. Many Warex traveled in and out. Off to the side was a smaller door. No one went that way, perhaps because it looked much smaller.

  Snitch floated through the smaller door. Inside was a huge city with tall, ornamented towers. Everything was encrusted with gleaming jewels, precious stones, and polished marble floors. She’d never encountered anything so beautiful. The vision drew her along a particular route through the city, leading to a high tower.

  The throbbing in her head increased. She must be close.

  Snitch floated through the tower’s giant front door as if it wasn't there. Inside, Glantham was tied to a table, no longer wrapped in the cocoon of purple energy.

  “Ahhh!” The pain broke through Snitch's concentration and overwhelmed her. Every muscle convulsed, and she collapsed with her arms wrapped around her body. Eyes slammed shut, fists clenched.

  Digging down deep for a tendril of self-control, she raised her mental screens back up. A tinge of glee leaked into her consciousness as the pain subsided.

  Out of breath, Snitch grabbed her flask and took a long drink. She ate the last ration pack. If that’s what it took to get a vision, she’d probably need every ounce of energy given what was next.

  Standing, she loaded everything into her pack. With the source of pain blocked, her strength returned. The sleep had energized her body and the book had refreshed her mind. She slipped it into her side pocket and chuckled at how light it was, considering it was filled with thousands of pages.

  Raising her hands, she focused her mind. Her hands radiated a pastel purple which expanded around her body and made her invisible.

  Snitch slipped out of the cave. Staring down, she scanned the last sighting of Warex. They still roamed the area but were spread further apart. Climbing down the rocks, she walked toward the wall. Not the same path she had fled but more direct.

  Padding lightly, she hugged the outcropped rocks and foothills that littered the landscape, avoiding Warex patrols at all costs. Despite being invisible, this was no time to get cocky.

  After a solid hour and a half, she reached the place she had visualized.

  Snitch approached the wall and saw a huge entrance several hundred feet away where dozens of Warex entered and exited.

  Could this city be their home? Sliding to the spot where she’d seen the smaller door, her eyes scanned up and down the wall.

  Nothing.

  She hunted for another twenty minutes with no success.

  The second door had been quite clear in her vision. Frustrated, she almost rapped her knuckles on the wall to test for a hidden door. Heh, that would be foolish.

  Hmm.

  Maybe something else was needed. She held up her hands and summoned the memory of the door from her earlier vision. Her palms lit up, and the outline of a small door appeared. With intense thought, the outline burned on all four sides until a real door was formed, exactly as she had seen it.

  Snitch pushed it open and walked through. She closed it, and it was gone!

  That must've been why the door was so small.

  The city didn't have that bright gleam. Strange. There were decorations and adornments on various towers and other buildings, but it had a more twisted, ugly nature. Was it her vision that was distorted?

  Stepping into a street, Snitch jumped to the side as a pair of Warex strode by, almost hitting her. To avoid more foot traffic, she crouched behind vendor stands and other fashionings of the grotesque place.

  Focusing on her planned route, she found a side street that moved in the desired direction but had fewer hideous creatures to contend with.

  Her stomach grumbled. Snitch regretted having eaten the last of the rations. Then she spotted some strange seeds on a seller’s stand. They were enormous, at least to her, but a natural fact in a city of creatures over three times her height.

  She pilfered half a dozen and stuffed them into her pack before gobbling one. A third of the way through the second, and her stomach was full. An enormous rush of energy filled her as well.

  Snitch looked around to regain her bearings. Turning left, she pressed forward. It took another half hour of sneaking before she turned a corner and spotted the tall tower.

  Now what? Just walk in? There was no activity outside the windowless building. Snitch sidled up to the door and cracked it open enough for her slender fi
gure to slip through. Pulling it shut, she let out a breath and relaxed her shoulders.

  Glantham was in the center on a tilted table. Rushing up to his side, Snitch noticed how little color there was in his face. There were no restraints, but he couldn’t move.

  Glantham’s head jerked around. “Who's there?”

  Realizing she was still invisible, Snitch dropped the spell.

  Glantham's eyes widened at her sudden appearance.

  “Snitch!” he uttered.

  “It's me. I found you, and I'm getting you out.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “To free you. There is no way either of us will survive unless we work together.”

  “You don't understand. They tortured me to get to you. You should never have come!” His eyes and mouth twitched.

  “Glantham, you were right. I learned how to bend mental energy. Was able to hide myself and sneak in here. We can make it.”

  With dull eyes and a downward mouth, Glantham stared at the floor. He didn’t lift his arms. “Purple magic won't free me. You saw them take mine. They’ll take yours, too. You must leave. Now!”

  Snitch shook her head. There was little time to argue, so she took a step back. With clinched fists and closed eyes, she centered her thoughts on him. A pale shade of purple light radiated from her hands. The light grew stronger and encircled her in a globe before she opened her eyes.

  Gathering the ball of energy into her hands, she thrust her palms toward Glantham. The flying ball of energy knocked out the purple magic entombing him.

  He slid off the table and crumpled to the ground.

  Snitch rushed over and lifted him to his feet.

  “That shouldn't have worked.” Glantham’s voice was raspy. “They were expecting you.”

  “I’m not using the Warex’s purple energy. Or at least not much.”

  He stared at her, eyebrows furrowed.

  “All along, I thought you were wrong. About me.” One corner of Snitch’s mouth turned up. “Not being able to levitate the dagger. Only turning invisible. None of the stuff you've done. I thought the flimsy purple light was a sign that I had little.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I figured hiding and creating backdoors must be all a street thief could do. But when you said I couldn't free you, I knew.”