Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  “That explains one thing,” added Tanas, rubbing his chin.

  “What’s that?” asked Thade.

  “Why your . . . why his story kept changing and why he only remembered Rhamagabora after we had taken Kal-Pharina.”

  “What is this about the Paths of Time?” asked Thade.

  “What do you know about Rhamagabora?” countered Gan-Goran in a sharp tone, ignoring Thade’s question.

  “Well, you . . . ” Dax rephrased himself. “We were told about the story of battle at Rhamagabora and the possibility that the Darklord was collecting relics to resurrect the Dark One.”

  “He told you that?” exclaimed the astonished older man, massaging the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

  “Aye.”

  “I think you should tell me the whole story.”

  Cara joined them at the table with a pot of tisane and silently poured the hot brew into mugs. Thade started to relate the story of their adventures, with Dax and Tanas adding bits where necessary. Together they recalled the night Gan-Goran’s ‘double’ told them about the Dark One’s relics—the bones of his hand, and their locations at Evlon, Kal-Pharina, and finally at Teldor. They told of the attempted assassination of the Chosen, the Phadrine Emperor, planned by the Darklord with help from Tucci, the Chosen’s son, and explained how the assassination failed.

  They described their meeting with the Chosen, the fight at Single Tooth Gorge, then the Chosen’s trek to Teldor. And at Teldor, how the Chosen met King Logan, who agreed a peace pact with the Phadrine and marched his army across the Steppes to Kal-Pharina to regain the Chosen’s throne from his ‘mad’ son. They recounted their journey to Evlon where they found a dead city, the aftermath of the brutal slaying by the Darklord’s elite, the Dark Brethren.

  They met with Prince Zane and still with a hint of fear, told of their fight with the Talon Hunters in Dashnar Forest. Their story switched to the siege of Ubert, and of Zane’s leadership and the unexpected outcome. Thade mentioned their arrival at Kal-Pharina just after King Logan’s assassination. They told of retaking Kal-Pharina, Tucci’s death, and the realisation that Rhamagabora must be Teldor.

  They spoke of their journey back to the Rhaurien capital, fighting the Shadows in Teldor, and the rite of resurrection being undertaken by the high priestess of the Path Temple in the palace at Teldor. They told of storming the palace, the death of Gammel and, finally, the recapture of Teldor.

  A solemn silence hung in the kitchen as the three comrades remembered their fallen friend. Cara rose and made a fresh pot of tisane.

  Gan-Goran broke the silence. “Oh my, I seem to have missed a lot. That poor soul is dead. I liked Gammel, though our acquaintance was brief. A quiet man who had his problems, I gather. And Logan is dead . . . ” He paused, shaking his head. “Is he dead too? The Darklord?”

  “He was not in the palace when we recaptured it.”

  “He wouldn’t have left without the relics. Even though the resurrection rite was false, the Darklord would still want the relics and the black crystal. That is the only way he can complete the spell.”

  “So we did not stop the rite?” asked Thade, amazed and disillusioned.

  “No, my friend, that was all a ruse. The true rite is quite simple; it only requires the Divine One’s champion shedding innocent blood. If he spills innocent blood when the relics are ready and the correct enchantment cast, then the Dark One will return.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” whined Thade, throwing his arms into the air. “You think we’ve stopped a great evil from coming back to our lands, when all of a sudden—BANG! Someone tells you all your work, all your suffering, was for nothing.”

  “I’m not trying to sound callous, Thade. You have bought us some time but unfortunately, that’s all.”

  “How do you know so much about this?” asked Dax suspiciously.

  “I’m very, very old, Dax. I’ve studied in many places, learning about many different religions, cults, and magic.”

  “How do we know whether the Darklord has all the pieces?”

  “We will have to find out.”

  “So does the Darklord still live?” asked Tanas.

  “Yes, I believe that he lives,” said Gan-Goran, nodding glumly.

  “How do you know?”

  Gan-Goran paused and closed his eyes before answering. He slowly opened his eyes. “I can sense his dark presence.”

  Dax rose from the table and moved to the door. “We were going to the Grey Castle to complete our friend’s mission. It now seems we have to go and find out if this Darklord has the damned relics, and again try to stop him.”

  “It would seem so,” added Gan-Goran gravely.

  Dax spun quickly in the doorway pointing at the old man, his voice cold, his violet eyes blazing. “I have a problem here! You now say you are the real Gan. Well, I’m not sure. Maybe the original Gan is the real one; you know, the one who travelled with us across our lands. Or, maybe it is this one . . . ” He paused.

  “But what if he is right?” asked Tanas, turning to Dax’s voice. “What if this is the real Gan?”

  Dax bowed his head and thought for a while. “We have to go to the Grey Castle anyhow. We might as well take you with us,” he said, with an icy smile.

  “Are you going already?” asked Cara solemnly.

  “Aye, but we’ll be back soon,” said Thade, forcing a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

  ***

  Gan-Goran left the kitchen to collect his meagre belongings. There was much he had not told the others—now was not the right time. He had indeed missed much and to his regret could have prevented much, but he could not change the past; he had to look forward.

  The old man remembered the look in Dax’s blazing violet eyes and shivered. He could not blame the warrior for his anger or his suspicions. He wanted to tell them everything, but not yet. It was important for him to regain their trust before he explained his full story. If he told them everything now, it would only breed more mistrust. Deep in thought, Gan-Goran left the room.

  ***

  Again, Cara packed supplies for her men to travel into unknown danger. Tanas walked out into the stables and found his horse, Essie. The blind warrior had left the exhausted horse behind when they travelled to Evlon. The mare’s ears pricked up and she nuzzled her head into Tanas’s chest when he spoke softly.

  Within a couple of hours of arriving, the men, now accompanied by Gan-Goran, headed north, towards the mysteries within the Grey Castle. It would be two days’ ride to reach the foothills of the Great Mountains and from there, depending on the weather, an extra three days’ journey to the Grey Castle.

  Gan-Goran went about his usual duty of cooking for the others, which led to more suspicion, as his ‘double’ had done this very same thing over the past months.

  ***

  Thade strolled down to a stream and washed in the cold, clear refreshing water. On his way back to the camp, he met Tanas.

  “The stream is down yonder.”

  “I can hear it, thank you.” A moment of uneasy silence settled upon them until Tanas asked, “What do you think of Gan’s story?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s strange to think that we were dealing with a charlatan these past months. To be honest, that doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “I must agree it does seem strange. Do we trust this Gan? I mean, he could be leading us into a trap.”

  “Dax seems comfortable with the old man.”

  “Are you sure about that? I think there is much turmoil inside him that he is not showing. I think he is as much undecided as we are and you remember his comments back at your home.”

  “All we can do is wait and see.”

  “Aye,” replied Tanas, as he moved off towards the stream.

  Thade watched the man leave. No matter how many times he saw him do it, the blind warrior always impressed him as he moved through the woods better than a man with vision. He made a mental note to ask Tanas ho
w he knew where things were, and how he could fight without sight. He sighed.

  Thade liked the warrior, and at this time they had a lot in common: both their women had left them to travel to Kal-Pharina by sea. Now feeling lonely, thinking about Ireen, Thade made his way back to the camp. To cheer himself up, he tried to duplicate the ‘Dax Swagger’. That always made Thade laugh and this time was no exception. With head slightly bowed and shoulders hunched, Thade ambled back to the camp, all movement in his shoulders. Success—he got it, he had the ‘bad man’ walk. Laughing, Thade entered the camp and saw Dax walking towards him. That was it, he roared with laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” snapped the old warrior, frowning.

  “Oh nothing,” managed Thade, through his fits of laughter. Dax grunted a curse and stalked off towards the small campfire.

  “Gan, how are you?” asked Dax, narrowing his eyes.

  “Fine, thank you, Dax. But I sense the others have their doubts about me.”

  “They are not the only ones. We have been through a lot as a group, and to find out that one of our own was not who he seems, is difficult to accept. I share the others sentiments about that as well, I must admit.” Dax paused for a moment. “We will have to see.”

  “I am the true Gan-Goran, my friend,” said the master-magiker, holding Dax’s gaze.

  “Like I said, we will have to wait and see.”

  After washing, Tanas returned to the camp and they all sat down to a meal of beef stew with black-seeded bread. There was little talk, but what conversation they had described what had happened to them. Later, talk turned to Gammel, and the group lapsed into hysterical laughter when they recalled the snow fight in the Great Mountains. The evening passed without incident and when it was time to turn in, one of the men stood guard.

  ***

  When the others slept, Gan-Goran went to talk to the man on guard. “Hello,” he said softly, so as not to wake the others.

  “You are not the same man as back at Teldor,” stated the warrior, in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “No. I am not.”

  The warrior’s eyes blazed red, glowing with the fires of hell. He smoothly rose from his sitting position to tower over the master-magiker. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes. I have read about you, and I know the warnings.”

  “Good. You had better heed them. I gave you the relics back at Teldor.” The warrior stared at the old magic-master.

  Gan-Goran felt the red eyes boring into him, reading his soul. “It was not I.”

  The warrior stepped in close to him, his voice icy cold and resonant. “You are not the same man; I can sense the good in you now. My senses and judgement must have been clouded by dark magic back in Teldor.” The warrior felt inside his tunic and pulled the black crystal out. Holding the crystal in his fist, the warrior closed his eyes and concentrated. After a heartbeat, his eyes opened, glowing brighter, a vivid red that lit up Gan-Goran’s face. He opened his fist and the black crystal was no more—only dust that swirled in the breeze.

  “We have a problem—he has the crystal.”

  Gan-Goran’s heart sank and he softly cursed. “You cannot go to the Grey Castle. You know he wants you to spill innocent blood as that will complete the rite.”

  “That I know, old man,” hissed the warrior, “but I need to recapture the relics, especially the crystal, and see them safely hidden again.”

  The old man bowed his head; then looked up at the mystical warrior.

  “Do not attempt to use your powers on me, old man. It’s not advisable.”

  “As you command.”

  “I command nothing and remember, do not say anything to the others about me. Do not mention my name and do not call my name—my wrath will be ferocious.”

  “I understand. I am Her servant and as long as you serve the powers of good, I will follow you,” said Gan-Goran bowing his head.

  “Now leave me and rest.”

  Gan-Goran left the warrior on guard duty and returned to the camp where the other two men slept. When the old man finally fell asleep under his blanket, his slumber was fitful.

  Away from the campfire, the warrior’s eyes ceased blazing red and dulled. The blood yearning eased and the warrior returned to his alter self—successfully keeping Death from surging forward.

  ***

  The riders reached the foothills of the Great Mountains and it started to snow. Thick, light white flakes floated down onto the men as they continued to push their horses into the mountains. Before them, looming high against the sky, stood the mass of conical rock known as Mount Kalkar. All around Kalkar, the other snow-tipped peaks appeared to biteinto dense grey clouds, like blackened teeth with patches of white enamel.

  For the next day and a half, they skirted around Kalkar, while more pure white flakes floated down, covering clothes and horses, making the travellers look like mobile snow mounds.

  Once in the heart of the Great Mountains, the men turned east towards the Grey Castle. The weather deteriorated further. Swiftly, a chilling northern wind whipped the snow into a blizzard, reducing visibility down to a few strides as dusk approached. Dax sent Tanas to point, as Tanas did not require vision to navigate. Dax feared they would be separated during the storm, so he linked the group together with a rope. Apart from Gan-Goran, the men were familiar with the routine and battled on through the wall of snow that blew straight at them. Tanas leaned forward onto Essie’s neck and tried to whisper to her through chattering teeth.

  “Find some shelter!” He was forced to shout over the howling wind.

  The horses waded through the thick snow while the temperature plummeted sharply as the sun sank below the horizon, bringing forth night. The wind picked up further, blasting ice at them. Within just half an hour, darkness shrouded them completely and they were locked in the grip of the violent blizzard. Icy flakes now covered them from head to foot in a white blanket, and the gusting wind seemed to find every small opening in their clothing, freezing them to their very soul.

  Travel slowed further as more snow settled on the ground, reaching waist height in areas. After a while, Essie turned north and plodded on through the storm, with the others obediently following behind. The wind now blew directly into their eyes, partially blinding them. The warriors bowed their heads into the wind, and pulled down their cloak hoods to prevent the snow crystals stinging their faces. No one spoke, as this would result in a mouthful of snow.

  Suddenly, the wind eased. They moved towards a cliff face protecting them from the blizzard’s lethal force. Essie then turned west, away from their goal, and stopped after a few strides. Tanas patted the cold, tired animal on the neck and whispered his thanks to her.

  Over the howling storm, he yelled, “There is a cave to the north.”

  The men dismounted their horses and entered the cave, leading the horses to the rear where they were tethered.

  Tying a rope to each other, Thade and Tanas ventured out into the storm to gather some firewood. In the meantime, inside the cave, Dax rubbed the horses clean of snow and wiped dry their wet, matted hair. Dax called to Gan-Goran over and instructed him to build the first fire near the horses. Gan-Goran started a small fire with the meagre bundle of wood he had gathered at their last stop. The chill within the cave slowly evaporated as the small fire battled against the cold, icy air.

  Outside, Thade and Tanas stumbled around groping for wood. They wandered farther away from the cave in their search for the lifesaving fuel. Suddenly, Thade slipped, and fell off the edge of the cliff. Luckily, the snow was very dense and he could not see how far the drop was, or he would probably have panicked. Thade’s falling body viciously jerked the rope, yanking Tanas off his feet and pulling him through the snow towards the precipice.

  Frantically, Tanas tried to grab hold of something, anything to stop himself from plummeting over the cliff edge. He calmed himself but he slid closer to the edge. He reached out to his left, grabbed a tree trunk and held on, the icy bark tearing at his
gloved fingers.

  Dangling off the cliff face, the wind crashed Thade against the jagged rocks. He swung out, away from the rocks, and braced himself for impact. The warrior smashed into the rock wall and his head bounced on a rounded bolder with a dull thud, knocking him out. Now he hung unconscious, a dead weight dangling on the end of the rope, swinging back and forth in the gusty wind.

  Tanas desperately gripped the tree trunk and screamed, “THADE!”

  He got no reply. Again, he screamed the former gladiator’s name. Still, no answer. Tanas’s heart dropped. Now, he had one chance. He tried to call for the old warrior: the man he looked up to as his mentor, the man he had started to love as a father.

  “DAX!”

  ***

  Dax paced up and down at the cave mouth, waiting for his ‘boys’ to return. Over the screaming of the storm, he thought he heard his name. Looking back into the cave, he saw Gan-Goran busying himself, rummaging through his pack—it was not him. He peered out into the black whiteness and strained his hearing.

  ***

  Tanas cried out again. “DAX!”

  He received no answer. It would be up to him to save Thade. The image of Megan drifted into his mind and his strength returned. Lying flat on the ground, he pulled himself up towards the tree and, straining, looped his body around the trunk. His face reddened with effort as he pushed against the trunk. He lay on his back with his feet braced against the tree’s icy bark. He took hold of the rope and sat up. Lying back down, he pulled with all his might. Screaming at the top of his voice with effort, he heaved again.

  “Come on, you lump of foul-smelling dung. Climb, goddamn you. Climb!”

  Tanas’s arms shook under the strain as he pulled at Thade’s dead weight. A bestial growl rumbled in the blind warrior’s throat as the rope tore through his gloves and started to rip at his flesh, shredding his exposed palms.

  Suddenly, his foot slipped from the icy trunk. His body swung round. Thade’s weight instantly started to drag him towards the cliff edge. Letting go of the rope, Tanas again flapped his arms about, trying to grab hold of something, anything. Anxiety grew. His feet touched nothing; there was no ground. He started to feel panic well up from his soul. He dangled over the cliff edge so close to death. Tanas could not help himself; he roared.