Return of the Darkness

by Andrew G. Wood

  Finley had no idea what that was and decided it was probably time for him to start running. Despite the lack of nasty creatures, this dream made him feel uneasy, especially as the shape now seemed able to manoeuvre itself close to him without the aid of the Balgraf, meaning the necklace about his neck no longer appeared to have any effect. The dream appeared so different in many ways as if it had now moved on to another stage, one to which he did not know the outcome.

  “Zerus Maldhor!” The figure said again.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Finley found himself shouting rather than making a dash for it, although his voice sounded somehow different to the one he used in the waking world.

  “You will not stop me Zerus Maldhor,” the voice spoke, using that same name again.

  Deciding enough was enough, Finley decided to put his earlier plan into action and start running, a tactic that had seemed to work well enough in his previous dreams. However, this was not the case this time. After trying to run and changing direction several times, the strange figure just re-appeared in front of him, laughing at him as if it were nothing but a big game.

  Finley felt himself tiring, although how one became tired while asleep, he was unsure. The figure swirled around him, “You will be mine Zerus Maldhor” it said much louder and clearer, as a large dark hand reached out to grab him. Although the figure had no solid mass, Finley could feel the shape swirling around him, trying to pull him down into the ground. He struggled and yelled, but no matter what he tried he could not break free.

  When all seemed lost, another figure appeared just behind the dark mass, shouting and yelling. Who or whatever it was at least had the desired effect of drawing the strange being’s attention, as it allowed Finley to slip through its grasp. He was about to turn and run again, but thought to glance back at what had aided his escape, and was shocked by what he saw.

  Stood before the strange dark shape was Karesh, who seemed to be berating it. “Karesh, come on run!” he heard himself shouting. The young orc looked over towards him, just as the dark shape lashed out at the orc, sending him flying backwards into the trees. Karesh’s body landed with a thump and remained motionless. Finley thought the worst but felt an anger he had never felt before. “It is me you want Abalyon,” he shouted using the name for the first time.

  The apparition just laughed before returning its attention towards Finley. Drifting over on the layer of mist, Abalyon moved to within a few inches from his target, “You will not stop me Zerus Maldhor. You will be mine again and do my bidding as before.”

  Finley no longer felt fear, and for the first time had no intention of turning and running. Karesh needed his help, and this annoying dark mass had haunted his dreams long enough. “Leave me alone!” Finley shouted lashing out with a fist, only to see it merely pass through the dark shape and emerge the other side.

  The shape that was Abalyon laughed out louder than before, so much so, Finley needed to cover his ears. “It is your dream Finley, you are the one in control,” he heard the familiar voice of Karesh shouting over towards him. Thankful the young orc was okay, Finley pondered on the words for a moment. If he was indeed the one in control then surely he could do anything he wanted to, run faster than any ever before, perhaps even leap up into the sky, or maybe even use magic.

  With a new sense of self-belief, Finley stood firm. Knowing he could not physically touch the dark shape of Abalyon, he decided on a different approach. Having now seen magic was very real, perhaps he could use it in his dream to vanquish his foe. With the dark shapes always moving on the blanket of mist, he would merely blow it away.

  After thinking about a strong wind, he thrust his hands out several times, before realising this was not as straightforward as he thought it was going to be. Karesh limped around the shape towards him and took up a position at his side. “You will need your pole,” the orc said wincing a little as he spoke as if in some considerable discomfort.

  “I don’t have it with me Karesh. I don’t sleep with the staff in my hands do I?” he snapped back a little harshly.

  “It is your dream, Finley. You can do as you wish,” the orc reminded him again.

  Finley was about to say he had already told him that before he finally understood what Karesh was getting at.

  Without giving it so much as a second thought, Finley merely clicked his fingers, and the pole appeared in his hands. With a new self-confidence, he swirled it around in his hands like an expert. This was after all his dream, and he could do as he wished. “Now be gone and leave me be!” he yelled pointing the staff tip in the direction of Abalyon. The apparition yelled as it was forced away from him, before laughing and eventually vanishing from sight.

  Feeling proud of his achievements, he thought it best to check on Karesh, but when he looked the orc was no longer to be seen. The trees around him flickered and vanished, and looking down he noticed the very ground at his feet merely dissipate away, leaving him standing in an entirely blank and meaningless world.

  Chapter 14.

  Finley opened his eyes, the contents of his dream still very fresh in his mind. He sat up and looked over to where Karesh was lying on the other bed, wondering if he was alright. The scenario played out in his recurring nightmare may have been just in his mind, but this night they had felt more real than ever. Not knowing how long was left before it was time to get up, he realised the only way he would put his mind at rest was to wake the orc and check.

  Morning could not have been far off, as through the small window high up behind them he could already see the glow of dawn. After throwing back the sheets to his bed, and still in his underclothes, Finley slowly stood up, feeling a little uneasy on his feet as he did so. He leant over to where Karesh was lying and was struck by a horrible thought. Was the orc dead? He could not hear him breathing, and feeling the panic setting in, he gave him a shake.

  Finley sighed with relief as the orc grumbled and mumbled, rolling over to look up at him. “Thank the gods you’re alive,” he said. Karesh lifted his large three-fingered hand up and scratched at his thick wiry hair, “I have had the strangest dream,” the orc said wincing slightly as he tried to sit up. “Was I there by any chance?” Finley asked.

  “Yes...and in a strange place with swirling mists and a dark figure, and oh!” he winced again holding his side. “Oh, and me being thrown backwards through the air. Ouch,” he muttered. Finley wasn’t sure what he should or even could do, and thought it probably best to wake his mother.

  After walking into her room and waking her as gently as he could without startling her, she pulled on her nightgown and suggested they all talk in the main room. Leyna lit an oil lamp to add a little light to proceedings, something of a rarity of late, she asked Finley to explain. After they had all taken a seat, Finley knew he only needed to stick to the main points, as it seemed his mother was already aware of what went on in his mind during his hours of sleep.

  “He called me Zerus Maldhor, although I have no idea who or what that is.” He looked over to Karesh who was sitting silently but could see the young orc was in some discomfort. While his mother uttered the name over and over, as if doing so would somehow help her recall its meaning, Finley carried on talking, thinking he should mention the bizarre appearance of Karesh in his own dreams. Moreover, when Abalyon had attacked Karesh in the dream world, it had somehow caused injury in the real one.

  Finley watched as his mother slowly stood, and insisted the young orc stand, “Show me please,” she asked. Karesh gingerly lifted his vest to reveal two large bruises on his lower back; although due to his natural skin colour they were probably not as prominent as they might have been if on himself. “Ouch…Mother,” Karesh complained as she pressed them with her fingertips.

  “I think you will survive,” she said, “Good job you orcs are made to take a little punishment,” she said pulling Karesh’s vest down to cover the injury, before leaning upwards and planting a small kiss on his cheek. Finley watched on, still thinking it surreal
that Karesh referred to her as mother, then again she had probably been far more of one to the orc than she had to him; something that made him feel a little jealous.

  His mother sat back down and puffed out her cheeks, explaining she had never seen or heard of such a thing. Nightmares were common, and although Abalyon haunting people’s dreams was considerably less so, it was not unheard-of, especially when a young man or woman was going through their awakening. However, she had never heard of another person being dragged into the dream world and suffering real injuries. “I must find out what or who this Zerus Maldhor is,” she uttered thinking aloud, “You boys may as well get washed and dressed and go down for breakfast.”

  Finley and Karesh both stood to leave their mother to her contemplation, as she mumbled the name over and over once more. As they re-entered the bedroom, Finley thought he should apologise to Karesh for getting him injured, even if he didn’t know how it had happened. The orc grinned, “We are brothers, we look out for each other.” Finley thought on the words a moment before he answered, “We are indeed,” he said patting the orc on the back, making him jump a bit as he touched a tender spot.

  The building was unsurprisingly devoid of signs of life, being as it was too early in the morning for most to be wandering the corridors. Karesh seemed okay, despite his bruises, although Finley was now worried that he may risk people’s lives in his dreams. As the pair slowly walked down the steps towards the kitchens, hoping for an early breakfast, he recalled using magic in his dream. If Karesh getting hurt was real, was the fact he could channel magic through his staff the same; something he would like to try out.

  After dressing and sending her two boys down for breakfast, Leyna hurried out of her room and down the corridor. In her hand she carried a hastily scribbled note, she needed to send to a friend back in Neylarin. The names and achievements of history’s greatest beings were stored in the cities great library. If the name Zerus Maldhor were going to be anywhere, it would be there. Somewhere in the deepest depths of her memory, she was certain she had heard the name before, but despite her best efforts could not recall when or where.

  After taking a narrow series of stone steps up to the roof of the keep, she closed her eyes briefly and called out to one of her birds. As a druid of some considerable power, she was linked to many of the creatures in the local area. Aside from a few birds of prey, she also had links with her horse and a wolf and had once even had a team of small mice, using their size to move about a building in the capital some time ago, to annoy someone she knew did not like them.

  The early morning sky was still a dull grey colour, although just creeping up onto the horizon she could see the sun just breaking through. In amongst the thin wispy clouds, she could make out the dark shape of her bird gliding majestically down towards here. She afforded a smile as the eagle landed down on the keep’s battlements. Leyna stepped over and gently stroked the large bird on the head, before holding out the small wooden tube containing her letter. The eagle lifted up one of its legs and opened up the large claw, wrapping it around the tube. “Fly with haste,” she said although she knew she did not need to speak her instructions. Spreading out its wings the eagle flapped a little, swooping down off the top of the keep and gliding off into the distance.

  While she awaited her reply, Leyna knew there was someone else in Lochgorm that may be able to assist Finley. However, she knew this particular elf to be very old and extremely cantankerous. Although few people ever visited the elf in question, Leyna thought it a chance worth taking, provided of course she could even get to see him.

  Despite the early hour, she decided to go nonetheless. The elf was probably one of the oldest alive, at least that she knew of. If there was anybody alive in Lochgorm who could help, then surely this was him. After returning to her rooms to collect her cloak, Leyna headed down the stairs towards the main entrance. There were few people around at this hour, and after hurrying out of the main doors, and wishing the guards on duty a good morning, she headed across the yard towards the keep gates. The person she sought lived in a small house on the edge of the city, nearer the northern section of the outer wall. Although travelling by horse would have been quicker, in the time it would have taken to saddle and prepare her, she would likely already have made it to her destination. Although home to several thousand people, Lochgorm was not a particularly large place, and from the central keep, nowhere was more than a ten or fifteen-minute walk away.

  The home of the elf she wished to see was as secluded as any that could possibly be in such a confined space. Built against the outer wall, was a small lean-to style building that had once apparently been used as an ammunition store during more troubled times. Since the last great war, it had become surplus to requirement and been made into a rather simple single storey dwelling. The door was painted black, though much of that had peeled off, indicating the building was probably not well maintained. After giving it a good loud thump, probably much harder than she needed to, she stood and waited, impatiently tapping her foot on the small stone step.

  After hearing a lot of shuffling and curses coming from within, the door eventually opened to reveal a very wrinkled face. “What the hell do you want? Thumping on my door at this hour…No respect that’s the problem with youngsters these days,” the elderly elf grumbled. Leyna, however, did not care what hour it was, she needed answers and was going to get them. She quickly apologised, although did not mean it, before explaining who she was, or more importantly who her grandfather had been. After a somewhat vacant look, the old elf seemed to recall just who that was, before beckoning her inside.

  The room was dark and dingy, with a bed against one wall, and a seat beside the fireplace. Aside from a table, a few drawers there was very little else, not that there was room for much more. “How is your grandfather?” he asked shuffling across the plain wooden floor toward his seat.

  “Died several winters back,” Leyna replied deciding to stand over by the fire so the elderly elf could see and talk to her.

  “Shame,” was the only word mumbled in reply as the elf sat back down.

  As much as Leyna would have loved to have made idle chit-chat, it was not her purpose for being there and quickly started explaining her reason for calling around. The elf suddenly seemed to perk up, especially when she mentioned the name Abalyon.

  “Dark days if we ever see him return,” he grumbled.

  “Well I think he is about to make a reappearance,” she added feeling a little annoyed he had interrupted her.

  She explained that her son was a little rare, being as he was a half-breed. She watched his face for a reaction and thought she spotted some signs that he was repulsed by the thought such a thing could exist. However, Leyna did not give him a chance to speak, and continued onwards, describing her Finley’s dreams, and more importantly the latest development, that of Karesh getting hurt inside them.

  “Never heard of such nonsense,” the elf mumbled scratching at his chin as if deep in thought. “It is not possible to do such a thing. Why do you come here making up such lies?” Leyna thought the old elf would say as much, but she still had no intention of leaving until she had the answers she was looking for. “Believe it or not, I have seen the bruises to prove it. Why would I waste my time coming here if it were not true?” She snapped back. “And who is Zerus Maldhor? Because that is the name, Abalyon calls my son in the dream world.”

  Leyna felt she had given all the information she had, and stared at the old elf waiting for some positive feedback. The name of Zerus Maldhor seemed to have sparked new kind of reaction, and Leyna thought to push the question again. “That is not a name I have heard spoken in many years. Have you been reading your ancient history books?”

  “You know who it is?”

  “Well if my memory serves me correctly Zerus Maldhor is but one name given.”

  “Go on”, Leyna replied, gesturing with her hand for him to explain further.

  The old elf fidgeted a little in his seat, befo
re telling Leyna of a character he had learned about as a young child. Zerus Maldhor was apparently a half-breed from long ago, during the last great battle, that now only existed in the annals of history. Apparently long before the wastes existed, and long before trolls were all but wiped from the face of the land, Abalyon had been making attempts at destroying the civilised races. Even then the forces of darkness had started to spread, attacking and killing anything or anyone that stood in its path, but the combined forces of the civilised world had joined together to defeat him each time. The trolls had been vanquished by their own god. As a result, creating what the world knew today as The Wastes. Leyna knew most of this already, but let her host continue anyway.

  However, during the last attempt, Abalyon had once more mustered a vast army of Balgraf to attack the four remaining races. Zerus Maldhor had not only turned the tide of the war but somehow managed to push the enemy back as far as the eastern seas. That, however, was all the good Zerus Maldhor achieved, as for whatever reason he then changed sides. No longer fighting for the free-folk of the elves or humans to which he belonged, he sided with Abalyon and the forces of darkness.