Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  Dax and Captain Jamie were on the side of the square facing the shrubbery where Zane and Thade waited.

  “Forward!” ordered Captain Jamie, as he chopped and hacked with his axes. The fighting square took a tentative step towards the shrubbery. It took a second step, then a third. Soon, the fighting square moved forward, slowly, but thankfully away from the mine entrance.

  The number of men falling horrified both Zane and Thade.

  “We need to help the men,” said Thade, looking around for inspiration.

  “How?” asked Zane.

  “Wait here,” said Thade, wearing what Zane could only describe as a Dax smile of mischief. Zane shook his head, then he looked up to watch the fighting square edge closer, the men desperately defending each other.

  A fighting square was hard for the axe-wielders to maintain. Their weapon of choice required room to swing. But in the confines of the square, the men used the sharp points on their double-headed blades to stab at the charging creatures. All around the square, men fell as the Talon Hunters relentlessly charged into the fray, while some stayed back and feasted on the corpses. One of the sides buckled but other men instantly gathered around the breach, chopping and hacking at the beasts that made it into the centre. The Talon Hunters were mercilessly dispatched and men replaced the fallen at the side.

  Thade returned to Zane’s side as the front of the square reached the shrubbery. Captain Jamie bellowed an order, and from behind the shrubs the hiding axe-wielders rose as one, charging into the backs of the Talon Hunters. This allowed the men at the front to turn and help the other sides form a retreating line. The men used the spiky shrubs as a rear defensive line. The Talon Hunters attacked from one side, away from the brush. Axe-wielders started to step backwards over and through the shrubbery.

  Many of the men carried fresh wounds, but the men did not worry for themselves. They looked on in case they were needed. Some were, and they rushed forward to aid their friends and comrades. Most of the men had now crossed the outer line of shrubs, leaving the back of the square to fight a rear-guard action. Axe-wielders continued to fall, but the numbers of Talon Hunters falling also increased. Soon, the final line of men edged through the coarse, sharp dry shrubs.

  In the shrubs, Zane watched Dax. The older warrior was covered in blood and ooze, and Zane prayed it was not the man’s own. He marvelled at the older man: Dax never seemed to tire, constantly able to stab, chop, and hack at the beasts. He was the only warrior in the line who had enough room to swing his death-dealers.

  Walking backwards, next to Dax, was Rayth. Zane had not seen Rayth fight with his battle-axe like this. The man seemed possessed as he defended his friend’s side. He was a big powerful man but nimble and deadly, killing all he faced with his huge butterfly-shaped, double-headed battle-axe, and like Dax, he was covered in blood and gore.

  The front line reached the shrubbery and Thade prepared his plan. As the last line of axe-wielders entered the shrubs, he yelled, “Axe-wielders—RUN!” As if commanded by Captain Jamie, the axe-wielders turned as one and ran from the Talon Hunters. Sharp claws caught some of the men in the back as they fled.

  Dax and Rayth looked around and saw they were the last in the line, not used to commands. Dax spotted Thade and saw what the man intended. He grabbed Rayth and the two men fled through the coarse spiky shrubbery, chased by four Talon Hunters.

  Thade waited until the last moment for both Dax and Rayth to start running. When they did, using flints, Thade set the dry shrubbery on fire. Instantly, the brush caught alight. Blazing furiously, the flames spread along the shrubbery, greedily engulfing more and more brush, fanned by a light breeze.

  Within a couple of heartbeats, a wall of fire separated the men from the beasts. A few of the Talon Hunters had gotten through to the wrong side of the firewall. The axe-wielders chopped and hacked the beasts, killing them almost instantly. Both Dax and Rayth had to dive clear of the shrubs as the fire raced towards them, flaming tongues licking their rear. The four Talon Hunters chasing them were engulfed in the fire. Two of the beasts made it through, but howled in pain from severe burns. Dax and Rayth turned and quickly killed them. Thick black smoke billowed from the fire and the men cheered loudly. Suddenly, they realised the fire was rapidly spreading towards them. They all turned and raced through the shrubbery away from the damned mines.

  Thade found himself surrounded by fire and cursed. He had only one chance of escape and prepared himself. Without considering the consequence, he lifted his cloak above his head and charged through and beyond the flames. His cloak caught alight. He stumbled but just regained his footing.

  Dax and the axe-wielders ran out of the blazing shrubs and waited for the others. Dax could see Rayth, Zane, and Tanas, but not Thade. All of the surviving axe-wielders had made it through the fire, looking relieved. The old warrior searched around, panic starting to well in his gut. He had seen Thade start the fire and stared back at the blazing shrubs for him. He saw something move within the blaze—moving through the fire towards them. Dax ran along the fire line a bit farther, following the movement. The wind shifted direction and black smoke wafted over the men. But Dax waited, blinking rapidly. Suddenly, a blazing figure came running towards him from the shrubs.

  Axe-wielders rushed towards the warrior to help Dax, thinking it was an attacking Talon Hunter. Dax raced towards the figure and threw both of his axes down; they sliced into the ground, their hilts standing proud. Dax tackled the running figure hard in the midriff and started rolling on the crusty black ground. Rayth arrived and saw what was happening. He ripped the burning cloak off the man on the ground. Zane had taken off his own cloak and jumped on both men, putting out the flames. In a cloud of smoke and dust, the men stopped.

  On the ground, Dax had his arms circled around Thade, who had his eyes closed. His long hair was slightly singed and his face blackened, covered in soot. Dax wiped the younger man’s singed black hair from his face. “Thade,” he whispered softly, hopefully.

  Thade opened his stormy-grey eyes and smiled. “Like my plan?” he asked, coughing.

  “It was a good plan,” answered Dax, smiling, his relief evident in his eyes. “But next time think of an escape for yourself, boy.”

  “That’s a useful tip. I’ll remember that one.”

  Dax helped Thade to his feet and all of the surviving axe-wielders cheered.

  ***

  Of the eighteen hundred axe-wielders who had started the journey along the Grey Path, only four hundred and fifty now survived. The losses had been great escaping from the mines and they still had not reached the Black Palace—but they were now in Yallaz’oom.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Chosen received news the marching army was one day away from his Kal-Pharina. At the same time, the Priests of the Chosen confirmed that all supplies had reached the city safely. General Gordonia was busy drilling the army camped within the walls. Soon, the Chosen would have to order the drawing in of the bridges and the closing of the gate, thus sealing his city. It was an inevitable decision but one he dreaded. It meant he stood alone in his city, cut off from the outside, and so would not know if help would come. But he had to make the decision.

  A few days earlier, the Chosen had written notes to the town elders and Priests of the Chosen in the major cities on the coast, informing them of the threat to Kal-Pharina. He told them that if he failed to hold the army at bay and defeat them, the survival of the Phadrine was paramount. He ordered them to arrange for ships to take men, women, and children from across the Empire and sail over the Endless Sea to find a new home. Under no circumstances were they to seek revenge. If he failed, then no force could possibly survive. The survival of his nation, his people, was all that mattered, and if they had to flee their lands to survive—then so be it.

  That night he had a relaxing supper with his daughters. He informed them of exactly what they faced and why. He told them that they were Children of the Light, and were hunted by the Dark One. He did not want to fri
ghten them, but wanted to explain why he had not sent them away. The Chosen knew wherever the women were the Dark One would follow . . .

  “So the safest place was the white city,” he admitted bleakly.

  “Father, I would not have left your side,” informed Ireen sternly. “This time I would have stayed with you and our people.”

  “Neither would I leave,” added Megan. “You’ve been a father to me and I would never leave when you’re in danger.”

  Through misting eyes, Rowet looked lovingly upon his daughters—one of his blood and the other through adoption.

  “I love you, my children, and this is all for you. I fight for you. This time, I fight as a father, not as an emperor, and I will protect my children.”

  “We know, Father, and remember, you will not be alone. I know in my heart that Thade and Tanas will be here, and with them the Rhaurns,” said Ireen positively.

  “I hope so, my child, or we will not survive.”

  “They’ll be here, Father, that I know for certain.”

  The trio spent the rest of the evening in light conversation, but a shroud of the unknown weighed heavily on all.

  ***

  The next morning, there was a knock on the Chosen’s bedchamber door. “Come.”

  General Gordonia entered the room and bowed. Instantly, Rowet noticed the soldier stood in full battle dress. “They have been spotted, your Excellency, and I have ordered that the city be sealed.” The general paused. “It’s time.”

  Rowet nodded towards his warlord. “Is everything ready, Gordy?”

  “Sire, everything is in place.”

  “I will be with you shortly.”

  General Gordonia left the room to allow his friend to prepare. It did not take long for the Chosen to dress. Then he walked through the palace, flanked by his imperial guards.

  Stepping outside, the Chosen took a deep breath and gloried at the beauty of the morning. The sky was pastel blue with white wispy clouds gliding high above. He looked down the steps to where General Gordonia waited with the emperor’s white stallion. The Chosen walked down the stone steps, then mounted his horse. He smiled at his general and the company of men escorting them led the way. Rowet had been seeing his city in a different way since his dream. This was his home, and he, the protector of all the children within the Phadrine Empire. He had not thought of it before, but he was responsible for them all, in the city and beyond. He was their father, too.

  The Chosen rode through the city with a broad smile on his face. He enjoyed seeing his people, and watched children as they laughed and played, oblivious of the approaching threat. The company passed a school and the sounds of laughter filled the air. Rowet stopped his horse and gazed over the low wall at the children playing. His smile broadened. A small girl ran to the wall and waved at him. Rowet waved back at the girl, who ran off giggling. The Chosen took a longer journey to the western gate, winding through the streets, deep in thought. Soon he crossed the new killing ground now cleared of buildings, and approached the western gate.

  Platos had joined the men at the western gate, waiting for the emperor to arrive.

  Rowet dismounted and greeted his master armourer warmly. He then climbed the steps up the mound. Rowet did not look out over the Steppes, but back at his city. He kept his back to the danger on purpose. It was a marvellous day and he wanted to use this vantage point to see his city and his home on the hilltop.

  This had been the first time the man had taken the time to look at his city from the mound. He was awestruck. The view from the palace was impressive, but he could not see individual people. Here on the mound men, women, and children could be seen clearly coming and going, many looking fearfully at the mound. Rowet closed his eyes and slowly turned around. With his back to the city, he opened his eyes and gazed over the Steppes.

  In the distance, he could see dust rising—the army marching towards him. They were close, very close. He could not see the features of the beasts yet, but it would not be long before they were camped outside the mound. Time was running out. He turned to General Gordonia and Platos.

  “Gordy, have the men readied and prepare our other plans. Platos, have the weapons checked.” He paused and looked once more at the distant army. “Gentlemen, it is time to go to war.”

  Rowet did not wait for a response, but descended the steps and left the mound. He had seen what he needed to see. Now the time had come for him to protect his children. The Chosen, Emperor of the Phadrine, had to complete his preparations for war.

  ***

  The axe-wielders quickly moved away from the wall of fire. They did not desire another fight with the Talon Hunters and turned away from the mines, in a direct route to the Black Palace. They wanted to leave the pain and anguish of the tunnels behind. Once a safe distance from the mines, the men camped in the black lands of Yallaz’oom.

  All around the men was darkness, the bleakest landscape. The sky, like the land, was the deepest ebony. Red clouds bunched and billowed above with streaks of lightning illuminating them from inside. An eerie glow lit the land, but there was no sun, moon, or stars in the sky—just black. The light was all around, a dim gloomy glow that cast no shadows.

  The land itself was totally devoid of life. Nothing could grow from soil so polluted by foulness. All of the plants and trees were dead, relics of what once had been, but nothing now lived on the land. Darkness alone survived on the land—everything was corrupt, twisted, and foul.

  The men camped and the surviving healers treated the injured. Many men had shallow cuts and grazes but mercifully, none of them had serious wounds. The Talon Hunters did not take any prisoners, every bite and claw delivered resulted in instant death.

  “Which way do we go?” asked Captain Jamie. “And where is Tucci?”

  “I spoke to Tucci,” explained Dax. “He has not travelled these lands and would not have been more use to us. I sent him back through the mines to find peace.”

  “We go that way,” advised Zane, pointing out into the distance.

  “Why that way?” countered Rayth, frowning.

  “I feel that is the way to go, and we need to travel quickly.”

  The others around the young king gazed in the direction where Zane pointed. It looked exactly the same as any other direction.

  “Are you sure?” asked Captain Jamie.

  Zane turned and smiled at the axe-wielders captain. “I feel a pull in that direction. The Divine One said we would feel the pull towards our souls.”

  Rayth spoke next. “Yes, he’s right. Somehow I also feel it is the direction to go.”

  Thade, Dax, and Tanas all agreed.

  “How are you faring, Tanas,” asked Thade.

  “The pounding in my head is still there, and talking makes it worse.”

  “I wondered why you were so quiet,” replied Thade.

  Tanas smiled. “With my headache and this bleak surroundings, there is not much to say.”

  “At least it’s a little darker here.”

  “And that is suppose to cheer me up,” countered Tanas smiling at his friend. “With friends like you, who needs enemies.” Both men laughed, neither mentioning their longing to see their lovers.

  ***

  After the healers finished treating the injured, the company of men moved off in the direction indicated by Zane. For days, the men crossed the dark lands of Yallaz’oom. As they marched, the black demonic scenery that surrounded the travellers amazed them. The land was angular, nothing smooth, with no colours visible except for the deep red clouds. The land was full of both active and dormant volcanoes, separated by flat plains that had deep gouges cut into them, forming ravines—looking as if a massive creature had slashed the land with great claws.

  They walked along the top of deep ravines, so deep that their eyes could not penetrate the black depths. Some of the paths were only made of loose rocks and travelling became extremely hazardous. Thade dropped a stone down into one ravine and watched it disappear, merging with the bla
ckness. He waited and waited, but no sound of the stone hitting the bottom came. Farther along the ravine part of the path fell away, taking ten axe-wielders in a cloud of black dust. Their echoing screams hung in the air for an age as the warriors plunged into the bottomless abyss. The remaining men slowly marched in single file along dangerous paths where the footing was more secure.

  The heat increased as the men moved towards their goal—the heart of Yallaz’oom. The men had to climb some of the smaller mountains. They progressed slowly, as leading climbers would loosen rocks that fell on their comrades. Many more men fell as rockslides crashed down the slopes. Leading the climb Zane, Dax, Thade, and Tanas reached the summit. They looked from the mountain at the scenery of Yallaz’oom. Through the gloom, in the distance, they spotted the Black Palace. Dax pointed to the building and Zane nodded. The men had been through so much during their travels and now, finally, they could see their goal. Many men had died to reach this point and what the remaining men did not know was how many more would suffer. Their morale ebbed lower as they continued wearily on towards the end of their quest.

  With care, the company of men made their way down the mountain. The lead men pushed away any loose rocks to ensure the safety of the others to follow. When finally they reached the base of the mountain, they camped. There was no distinction between day and night in this realm, just a constant dreary gloom, so the men relaxed and slept whenever they stopped. There was very little conversation after they left the mines and many of the men wore permanently haunted expressions on their haggard faces. Dark smudges hung below dull eyes—all were both physically and mentally exhausted.

  Most of the men mourned friends and comrades who had lost their lives in the realm of pain. Captain Jamie had become more and more withdrawn. Healers treated his leg wound, which wept rancid smelling greenish pus, but thankfully he had not yet succumbed to the madness. At the same time, the healers treated Thade. In addition to his leg wound, he had mild burns on his arms and shoulders. Fortunately, his wound had not started to fester or weep any pus—but this did not stop the others from worrying.