From Light to Dark

by Irene L. Pynn

  “I’m not going to fight you.”

  Balor’s grin turned to a scowl. His balled fists shook. “No?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’ll make it easy for me!” Balor’s clear eyes shone with anger. He lunged forward and threw a hard fist into Eref’s nose.

  The sickening, fleshy sound of cartilage giving way echoed through the cave.

  Eref instinctively grabbed his face, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. A hollow numbness surrounded his mouth and nose.

  But he didn’t have time to catch his breath. In an instant, Balor was on him, pushing him to the ground and clamping both hands onto his throat.

  Eref’s heart pounded. He heard his own pulse in his ears. Nothing else existed but the need to stay alive. He grabbed Balor’s hands and wrenched them apart, rolling out from under him. Shakily, he jumped upright and looked at his hand. It was covered in blood from his own nose.

  Balor roared with anger and scrambled up, too. Fists raised, he lunged again.

  Eref dodged, his heart still hammering against his chest. How could this be his best friend? They weren’t wrestling as they had when they were kids in Light World. This time Balor was fighting to kill.

  “Come on!” the madman shouted. He threw another blinding punch. This one caught Eref on the side of the face. Eref’s eyes teared up in pain and frustration, and he deflected a third punch with his arm.

  “Stop! I don’t want to fight—” Eref cried out, but Balor made another move for his throat. Both hands fastened themselves to Eref’s neck, the thumbs pressing in on his Adam’s apple.

  He choked and fell backward to the ground, trying to roll sideways to shake Balor off. He felt his face grow hot and his eyes bulge. From this angle, it was impossible to land a significant punch. He gripped Balor’s shoulders and pushed until the pain in his throat lessened slightly.

  Finally, with all the strength he could muster, Eref yanked Balor off him and tossed his entire body sideways toward the river.

  Balor landed with a splash. Eref hurried over, fists up, but Balor sat, head drooping in the water. For a split second, it appeared that the fight was over.

  Then Balor reached out and grabbed Eref’s leg. Soon they were both in the little river, punching and tearing at each other. Eref fought to stay alive. Balor held nothing back.

  Not until two bony hands reached into the water and pulled them apart did Eref hear the screaming.

  Caer’s voice, high-pitched and filled with terror, rang through the cave like an alarm. She must have been screaming for a while, but Eref hadn’t heard anything.

  On his knees, Balor thrashed in the water, held back by the old man’s shaking arm. Balor was clearly exhausted from the fight.

  Eref, lying against the bank of the river, looked up and saw the Exile, who stared, stern-faced, at Balor. It seemed to take every amount of strength in the old man to hold Balor off. Eref was amazed that a thirteen-hundred-year-old person could still be so strong.

  “Are you both done?” The Exile spoke over Caer’s diminishing cries. She seemed to be in shock.

  Balor, still kneeling, spat blood on the ground. “Why did you untie her? She is my prisoner.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” The Exile pushed away from Balor angrily and knocked him back down into the water. “Why did you tie her up?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Balor said. His nose was bloody, his left eye swollen shut. “I’ll kill you all.”

  The Exile sniffed at this and hobbled over to Caer. He patted her head and turned back to Balor. “You’d better hurry if you’re going to kill us all,” he said. “You’ll be dead within a day yourself.”

  “What does that mean, old man?”

  Tending Caer, the Exile said, “It means you’re dying, Balor. Can’t you feel it?”

  As he rested by the edge of the river, Eref felt his heart still speeding, his emotions at a sickening height. For some reason, though Balor had just attacked him, the Exile’s pronouncement made his skin chill.

  Dying?

  Just then Balor tried to stand, but his legs gave way. He landed on his face in the muddy bank of the tiny river.

  Eref reached over to help him, but Balor swatted his arm away.

  “Don’t touch me, traitor.”

  “Balor, why—”

  “Fight me, Eref!”

  From where he stood tending Caer, the Exile said, “Shout all you want, Balor. The longer you stay here, the sooner you’ll be six feet under.” The Exile held Caer’s hands up and examined her wrists. “Do you feel all right?”

  She nodded shakily, her enormous eyes focused on Balor.

  “Why is he dying?” Eref stood and immediately registered his own injuries. Blood stained his tunic and pants from his collar to his knees. His elbows were scraped nearly to the bone, and his whole face had swollen so much that it was painful to speak.

  “The implant behind his head,” the Exile said casually, sitting down to continue his examination of Caer.

  Balor coughed into the ground. “There’s nothing in my head.”

  “Is that right?” The Exile spoke without looking up. “Feel the back of your neck.”

  With a trembling arm, Balor reached around to the back of his head. Eref stepped closer to see. There was something there. Something solid and round, implanted at the base of his skull.

  “I see something,” Eref said with a shudder. “What is it?”

  “The Eighteener Entrance implant. That’s the device that washes his brain and steals his life.”

  “What’s it doing to him?”

  “He shouldn’t be in Dark World,” the Exile said, standing up from Caer. “That implant is supposed to stop him from being able to come here. He can’t survive in Dark World or in my cave.”

  Balor coughed again and spat up more blood. “I’ve come to kill the traitor Eref. My people turned against me. They thought I was working with him. I’ve come to bring back his head.”

  Eref stared at Balor. It was as if they had never known each other at all.

  “What happens if we take that thing out of him?”

  “He’ll die,” the Exile said.

  “What happens if we leave it in?”

  “He’ll die.”

  These circular answers drove Eref mad. “What do we do, then?”

  “The implant clouds his mind and makes him forget his life before the Eighteener Entrance. He doesn’t know you’re his friend. But here in Dark World, the implant is malfunctioning. He’ll feel nausea and headaches. The only thing that can ease his discomfort is to kill. It’s a defense mechanism of the implant. That act will bring him back to himself for a brief period before the implant activates itself again. But acts of violence also send a powerful poison through his body. Slowly, it is killing him to be in this world. And at this point, he’ll die no matter where he goes.”

  “Even if we send him home now?”

  The Exile stared at Balor for a moment and said, “Even if we send him home now.”

  Balor coughed again and flopped over in the dirt. His eyes rolled backward in a look of agonizing pain.

  “Then we have to take it out!”

  The Exile shook his head. “That will bring back his memories and ease the suffering, but he’ll die just the same. Faster, maybe. His body depends on that implant now. Anyway, he’s clearly been injured in other ways,” he said, gesturing at a gaping wound in Balor’s leg. “Insects of the jungle, I’d imagine.”

  Eref looked at his friend writhing on the ground. It was the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. “How long does he have?”

  “Twenty-four hours. Maybe fewer.”

  Balor groaned.

  “Caer, give me some of those healing herbs.”

  The Exile frowned. “They can heal your wounds, Eref, but I’m afraid it’s too late for Balor.”

  “How can that be?”

  “I have told you. The Eighteener Entrance is not reversible. Once the device has been implanted, his life belongs to the
Governors. Now that he’s been to Dark World with the device, his life is nearly over. That’s all there is to it.”

  Anger welled inside Eref like never before. Right now, he actually wanted to hurt someone. If the Governors were here, Eref wouldn’t have any reservations about a fight to the death.

  Caer sobbed quietly nearby. He knew what she was thinking. This same thing would happen to Vul. Soon she’d have an implant and become a brainwashed slave of the Governors.

  “Teach me how to kill them,” Eref growled.

  “You’re not killing anyone,” mumbled the crippled Balor. “You’re a dead man.”

  Balor rose to his feet, as fragile as a broken leaf in the wind. His legs buckled at first, but he held himself upright and fixed his gaze on Eref.

  “You’ll only do yourself more harm fighting Eref again,” the Exile said. “You should go back to Light World and let your people kill you there. It will be quick.”

  Fixated, Balor snarled at Eref like a fire dog. He actually foamed at the mouth.

  Feelings Eref had never experienced before raged within him. Now he didn’t care whether he risked his life. Seeing Balor like this made Eref’s purpose clear. Whatever it cost him, he would put a stop to the Governors forever. He would make them pay.

  With a wordless shout that sounded more like a bark, Balor came at Eref again. He moved slower this time, and each movement pumped more blood out of Balor’s many open wounds. Eref dodged the punches one by one.

  “Help me!” Eref called out to the Exile. “How do we remove the implant?”

  The Exile watched, looking calm. “It’s very difficult, and the experience will be painful for him.”

  “He can’t go on like this!” Eref ducked under another of Balor’s heavy swings. “Can’t you do it?”

  “I’m drained,” the Exile said. “My strength is weaker all the time. I can’t manage something like this.”

  “Then tell me what to do!” Another slow punch came at Eref’s shoulder, and he jumped out of the way. Balor’s face had grown disturbingly pale.

  “You haven’t learned to control metaphysics yet—”

  “Damnit, Exile! I don’t have time to read a textbook!” Eref couldn’t bear the thought of watching Balor die in painful confusion. He deserved to be himself again, if only for a few hours.

  The Exile raised an eyebrow. “Get your hands on his neck. There’s an incantation. He’ll have to remain still.”

  Eref didn’t waste a second. The moment the words were out of the Exile’s mouth, Eref jumped on Balor and pinned him to the ground, flat on his stomach.

  Balor kicked and growled, but Eref wouldn’t let go. He looked for the round metallic device at the base of his head and clapped both hands upon it.

  An angry roar flew from Balor’s mouth. His legs kicked and pounded the dirt.

  “Now what?”

  “Concentrate,” the Exile said. He watched Eref with a look of anticipation. “You haven’t been trained in metaphysics. This isn’t likely to work.”

  “I have to do something. What am I concentrating on?”

  “You must focus on protecting him. Think about the danger he’s in.”

  Eref thought hard and held his hands on Balor’s neck. Soon, a familiar feeling crept through his body. A sensation of total calm and health, just like the time he’d helped Caer in the jungle.

  To his amazement, Balor stopped kicking. A dull light began to glow from under Eref’s hands.

  Caer gasped.

  “That’s it,” said the Exile, stepping closer. His wrinkled eyes were wide.

  “What do I do next?”

  “Repeat after me very carefully. Eckwuh. Eckwuh. Atwuh wuzt arzwuh fukah wuzurg ekwuh ep jekub dubevti demuj nim debris jek dunuv we nirwuj. Atwuh jekub crim dutyuect uatnub. Atwuh jekub cutceburtguh butwuhkubi. Atwuh wuzt arzwuh fukah wuzrg ekwuh jekub dubevti demuj nim debris jek dunuv we gunirwuj. Ekwuh, ekwuh. Debris ruwuh ekwuh.”

  Eref went slowly through each sound, the Exile whispering them along with him. When he finished, he began again. With every syllable he said, the light grew stronger. He started a third time. Eref feared it wouldn’t work. His friend would die right here, confused and sick.

  No. That couldn’t happen. He recited the incantation a fourth time, louder, more confidently.

  Out of nowhere, letters appeared before Eref’s eyes just the way they had during the stoning. They hung in the air before him as if someone had drawn them there.

  Ekw, Ekw. Atw wzt arszw fkaa wzrg ekw ep jekb dbevti demj nim dbris jek dnuv we gnirwj. Atw jekb crim dtuect uatnb. Atw jekb ctcebrtg btwkbi. Atw wzt arszw fkaa wzrg ekw ep jekb dbevti demj nim dbris jek dnuv we gnirwj. Ekw, ekw. Dbris rw ekw.

  “You’re doing it!” The Exile said, and he clapped his bony hands.

  Eref concentrated on the letters before him. He envisioned Balor’s implant coming out in his hands. It had to work. He had to help Balor find peace.

  Under his palm, something hard wiggled. Eref felt a chill of disgust at the movement, but he held onto Balor’s neck. The implant began to slide out on its own.

  Balor moaned into the dirt. Even in this healing light, the pain of metal tugging its way out of his skin must have been terrible. Eref held his breath and concentrated more.

  It moved again, pushing itself outward to Eref’s hands. Balor cried out and beat his fists into the ground. His whole body shook, but Eref held on tight.

  “Keep going, Eref. You can’t stop now,” the Exile said.

  But it was hard to keep going. Balor’s moans grew increasingly more alarming, and Eref’s muscles ached.

  “It’s killing him!” Eref said.

  “Stay focused. The pain will end soon.”

  The implant pushed itself farther into Eref’s hand. It was nearly out.

  Balor screamed.

  “You have it! Keep going,” the Exile said. He had walked over to the pair of them now and watched closely.

  From across the room, Eref saw Caer’s face. She was frozen still and wore an expression of utter horror.

  At last the metal simply fell out. He caught it in his hand and let go of Balor, who became instantly silent. Eref lay back on the bank of the river.

  The Exile’s eyes shone. “Amazing! You are stronger than I imagined.”

  Panting on the ground, Eref wiped sweat from his eyes. “How is Balor?”

  But instead of words, Eref heard sobs in response.

  “Balor?”

  There lay his best friend, blood-soaked and muddy, facedown in the dirt. He wept into his own arms as if unable to look up.

  “Can you speak?”

  “You should have killed me,” he sobbed. Something in his voice told Eref his friend had finally returned.

  “I couldn’t let you go on like that.”

  “I wish I were dead.”

  “Balor, you’re safe now. You’re with me. Everything will be fine.”

  He cried so violently Eref could almost feel Balor’s heart breaking.

  “I did things…thought about…it was a nightmare. I didn’t even know you, Eref. I wanted to kill you. And out there in Dark World, I did so many things….”

  “That’s over now. It wasn’t your fault.” Eref reached out to wipe the mud off Balor’s face. “You don’t have to think about that anymore.”

  Balor looked up at Eref with swollen eyes and an expression of pure desperation. “I need you to…Eref, please. If you’re my friend, you’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Kill me now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sleep

  Balor couldn’t go on. The things he’d done…. Nobody knew how evil he’d been.

  “Kill me, Eref. I’m begging you.”

  “No, Balor.” Eref’s clear eyes were filled with tears.

  They were both drenched in each other’s blood from head to foot. Balor’s entire body ached.

  “I can’t live with myself.”

  Eref’s friend Caer took a
few tiny steps toward them. “Sir, may I use your Opaque Cuminaline plants?”

  “That’s a good idea, Caer,” the old man said. “I’ll help you.”

  The old man limped over to his desk and pulled out some packets filled with green clay and plant cuttings. “Here,” he said, handing half the stack to the Dark Person.

  She walked to Eref and reached up to tend an open gash in his cheek.

  “No,” Eref said very gently. “Could you help the Exile with Balor first? He’s badly hurt.”

  Caer faced Balor with narrowed eyes. Balor could tell she didn’t trust him. Why should she? Ignoring her tears and her terror, he’d hit her and tied her up as bait. All so he could murder his own best friend.

  Balor knew he didn’t deserve to be tended to. At least the pain was a punishment. It felt like he was paying for everything he’d done. With each moment that went by, Balor wanted more and more to just sink into the ground and disappear forever.

  But soon Caer joined the Exile, and the two of them slid sticky leaves across his cuts and bruises and pushed thick clay into his deepest wounds.

  Within seconds, the pain faded away. The ointment helped him relax. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. He’d been hurt before. As a child in Light World, he’d broken his arm jumping from a wall and had to spend a week in the Life with magic stones surrounding his body.

  The break had taken days to heal, but when they had let him out, he’d felt stronger than ever.

  This ointment seemed to work differently. Instead of days of healing, it took moments. And instead of increased energy, Balor felt exhausted.

  His eyelids drooped, and he fell backward.

  “Help me lay him down?” the old man asked. “I’m weaker by the minute myself.”

  Balor felt two cool hands lightly pressing on his back to keep him from toppling over. For the first time in a long while, he relaxed completely. The soft, lovely face of the Dark Person hovered above him, and he felt a pain in his heart when he noticed the bruise on her cheek. He had given her that.

  “Caer,” Eref’s voice said from far away. Balor was drifting off. “He won’t sleep for days like I did, will he?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He’s badly injured.”