After the Dark

by Spencer Labbe

  It was like something out of the past; it was a page of Elfin history brought hauntingly into the present. Surely not so many had died since the early days when Elfin death was a usual occurrence.

  Pil sat there, unfeeling until Dirk returned. Pil looked around as he walked up to them; his eyes were unfocused and raw. Dirk was carrying two bags of supplies and dropped them unceremoniously on the floor before sitting down next to Pil.

  “They’re gone — I checked. No survivors…” Dirk whispered, confirming what Pil already knew.

  Pil nodded, a lump in his throat. “What about Brixton and Sandy?”

  “Dunno, didn’t see them. Suppose they haven’t come back yet.”

  “What about Todd?” asked Pil reluctantly, not wanting to hear the answer.

  “I didn’t see him, Pil,” said Dirk gloomily. “But there were a ton of bodies with… their bodies were too mangled… and… well, he didn’t have a weapon to fight with, did he?”

  Pil let his head drop. “Tiberius was still alive,” Pil confided in Dirk. “He — he said that Baer Bells is a traitor. He was responsible. Tiberius said to tell Harlem before he...”

  “What?” replied Dirk, stunned. “Brixton’s father is a traitor? He did this?!”

  Pil nodded.

  “But — but he’s a Captain?!”

  “So was Tiberius, Dirk.” Pil raised his head. “They are just Elfin… in the end, even Exidite are just Elfin.”

  “Sandy, then? Should we look —”

  Pil shook his head. “We — can’t; we have to report. If Brixton didn’t know… if he’s not completely evil, he might see what we have, and he might lead them back to the rest… Or maybe we can search for them. But we can’t do anything alone. We have to report.”

  Dirk nodded.

  Felicity raised her head, still sniffing. “We need to get moving, then,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. “It will be morning soon; we have to head South… 770 paces. Roughly.”

  Pil chuckled dourly. “We better get moving, then. Dirk, what supplies did you bring?”

  Dirk glanced back at the two large bags. “Food and water. Enough for two days. I also found a whip and a sword,” said Dirk tonelessly. “No hammer, though.”

  Pil nodded and lifted himself off the ground. His mind felt clearer now that they had a plan. But still, a great wave of sadness sat on his shoulders as he moved over to grab the sword. It was sturdy, not his usual bastard sword, but well-crafted and light. He attached the leather sheath around his waist, adjusting the belt to fit his small frame.

  “Let’s move,” said Pil, picking up one of the bags and throwing it over his shoulder.

  Pil started off through the brush, leading the way around the camp. He heard Dirk lift the second bag. It felt good to do manual labor. Somehow it made the weight that had pressed in on him from the direction of their fallen comrades more bearable.

  “What did he say exactly? Tiberius, I mean...” asked Dirk as he caught up with Pil.

  “He said that he should’ve known. It was hard to hear exactly what he said, there was so much blood. But he said, ‘the traitor’ and then he choked off a bit and said ‘Baer, tell Harlem…’ and that was it.”

  “Then it might not be Baer? Sandy could be fine with Brixton — apart from the fact that he’s with Brixton.”

  Pil smiled. “He might be, but don’t get your hopes up, Dirk, I want to believe the best, but we have to think logically. I mean, remember what Todd told us — that Baer disappears a lot — I wonder where he goes when he’s not on a mission...”

  “The Bahbeq, though. I mean, what could have killed it?” asked Felicity soberly.

  “It looked like they all had been fighting it. It could have been any one of them,” said Dirk.

  “I don’t think so…” said Pil. “Whatever killed it, it took the head. Something or someone else is awake in this forest.”

  His words made them all pause and listen. There was no noise other than the slight crunching of their toes on leaves.

  “Do you think the rest of the squad is okay?” whispered Felicity.

  Pil thought for a moment. “Well if something is in the forest, and it’s hunting down Exidite… but the rest of the squad is split up and on the move; they might be all right. The problem is if they don’t get the signal from Tiberius, will they retreat to the pack point before going home? Any chance you know where home is, Fel?”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t counting. I was too caught up in Tiberius’s speech. I’m such an idiot.”

  “You couldn’t have known. It’s our first time out; none of us were prepared for this… I don’t think any of the Exidite would have been,” Pil assured her, glancing back to give her a quick smile.

  “But — if they don’t go back to the pack point…” said Dirk uneasily.

  “It’ll be all right, Dirk,” said Pil. “You’ve grabbed us supplies; we can hide up in a tree and wait for night. We only have to survive a week.”

  “No one’s ever survived a week out here,” muttered Dirk. “You know what it’s like, and Spindles can fly.”

  Pil said nothing. He knew what the odds were of surviving in Lungala during the Afterdark. Lungala during a bright day was the playground of predators; even Exidite didn’t know exactly what else hunted here. But Pil knew that Elfins were the lowest on the food chain. That was one of the reasons Elfin had decided to burrow themselves underground for thousands of years, and why they had stopped going out during the Afterdark when the things of Haven generally woke.

  There were stories of Elfins that had moved further South towards Soma Mountain and had never been heard from again. The world was a dangerous place; he knew that now more than ever. But even now he still felt they should be exploring further, doing more to not only survive but to prosper. So much of Haven remained a mystery.

  “No… Get away — No!” came a loud cry.

  A figure came swiftly through the trees far off to their left, tearing through the forest loudly.

  “What —” Pil started, taken aback. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he dropped the pack he was holding and ran full out after the fleeing figure.

  “NO! Leave me alone —” cried the oddly familiar voice from up ahead.

  “Pil — wait!” cried Felicity in a sharp whisper as she and Dirk ran after him.

  But Pil didn’t wait. He was stricken with uncertainty, but overwhelming instinct was leading him on after the stranger. What was he doing, following a strange creature? But he knew that voice, didn’t he? It was high-pitched and choked with fear, but he knew that voice; he was almost sure of it.

  “Stop, please don’t —” There was a sound like bone hitting wood, and the strangled cry was cut short by a loud thump as the shadowy figure fell hard on the forest floor.

  Pil sped forward and leapt gracefully over the fallen trunk the person had tripped on. He stopped abruptly, breathing hard, and looked down. There, curled in a ball amongst fallen leaves, was the small frame of Sandy Shackles, shaking hard and crying.

  “Sandy!” said Pil, bending down to check on his friend. “What’s wrong? What happened!?” he asked harshly, surveying the forest around them for enemies.

  “NO!” screamed Sandy, staring up at Pil with a glazed look on his face. “Get away, demon! Don’t touch me! I’ll melt! Leave me alone…” he cried, looking fearfully around.

  Pil was startled by the expression on Sandy’s face as he looked around at the empty trees. He let out a sharp gasp and began muttering incomprehensibly to himself.

  As though from far away, Pil heard Felicity and Dirk jump over the tree behind him, panting hard. “Pil! — who — what’s — wait, is that Sandy?” stuttered Felicity, tired from the chase.

  Sandy took this moment to glance around jerkily at them.

  “No! Get away, snail! I don’t have any — don’t touch the grass!” he whimpered, pointing to Dirk.

  Dirk looked at Pil, confused. “What’s wrong with him?”


  “I dunno,” said Pil, shaking his head. “Hey, stop! Sandy!”

  With a strangled cry, Sandy jumped up and took off back into the forest, running as though from death itself.

  “Sandy!” cried Pil, jumping up and racing after him again.

  “Pil, slow down,” yelled Dirk as he and Felicity made to follow.

  Sandy led them quickly back the way they had come, towards Agora. He ran carelessly, looking anxiously over his shoulder, and shouting nonsensical words to the vacant forest.

  “Sandy!” Pil hissed sharply. “Come back, it’s me — it’s Pil.”

  Sandy, eyes wide, looked back and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “juga cadge” before turning back around and speeding up. Pil reached the edge of Lungala in minutes, pounding noisily after his fleeing friend. He stopped, panting hard, and looked out over the vast expanse of grass. There, running wildly and illuminated only by the dim purple moonlight, was the shadow of Sandy heading without regard for the distant ridge.

  Pil only had to wait a minute before Felicity caught up to him. “Pil, where — oh, no — where is he going?!” she shrieked as she took in the small figure stumbling through the grass.

  “Guys!” Dirk shouted as he came panting up to them. “What!” he said, breathing heavily, leaning on his knees for support. They all stared helplessly out after Sandy’s now miniscule form as it approached the large black mass of Agora Ridge.

  “We have to go after him,” said Pil determinedly.

  “But, Pil —” started Felicity.

  “Fel, I know — but he’s our friend. He’ll die out there alone.”

  “But let’s run a bit more slowly,” suggested Dirk, clutching a stitch in his side. “It’s not like we can’t see him.”

  Pil nodded and they set off across the cleanly cut grass, jogging at an even pace.

  “Oh, no,” said Felicity as Sandy’s small figure approached the face of Agora Ridge. “You don’t think he’s going to the Chasm, do you?”

  “I’ll bet he is,” replied Pil bleakly.

  The path that led to the Ridge of Agora was only slightly downhill. Straight ahead lay the dark mass of rock set against the night sky. It went on into the distance farther than Pil could see. It curved back towards Magnus forest, blocking the way to the grass bridge.

  As the beginning of the ridge came into a sharper focus a large dark crack developed out of its face. Sandy was a tiny black shadow tearing recklessly towards the Chasm of Agora. It wasn’t long before the small figure disappeared into the shadow of the ridge. Pil said nothing but glanced to the others who were looking at him with meaningful eyes.

  They kept a steady pace and the miles of grass flew beneath them, so that all too soon the ridge loomed up to meet them, a black frame against the stars. The stone was a sharp black and cut rigidly to form a series of pointed peaks that meandered far off into the distance. The Chasm itself was a large crack in its face, even darker than the stone that made it up. From their spot about ten paces away it seemed to envelope the light around it, leading into nothingness. They stood staring into the complete blackness of the Chasm.

  11

  The Chasm

  “Are we sure he went in there?” asked Dirk, shivering slightly, even though it was a warm night.

  Pil said nothing. He was almost positive he had seen the small shadow of Sandy slip into the Chasm; but if he was wrong, he was unnecessarily leading his friends into sure danger.

  “We have to check,” said Felicity firmly, looking to the other two.

  “Fel,” Pil started, wanting to ask her to stay. But he knew that wasn’t fair, and the words caught in his throat. She seemed to know what he wanted to say, however, and her eyes narrowed.

  Pil sighed and nodded, looking back to the Chasm. Without a word, he crept forward, apprehensively approaching the dark cave.

  “Do you feel that?” Dirk whispered sharply, as they stood in front of what seemed like a wall of blackness, even to their sharp Elfin eyes. The soft purple light from the moon seemed to not reach into the cave. It was a black hole even to rival the night sky.

  Pil nodded. He knew without question that this was the chill the Exidite had felt years ago, never lessened by time. As it ran through him it chilled him deeply to his core, completely enveloping his soul and seemingly warning him to flee.

  But he could not flee. Pil walked towards the darkness. The second he passed over the threshold, the chilling intensified, and he stopped abruptly. It was as though all the light in Haven had turned off. His night vision was failing him completely; there was absolutely nothing to be seen.

  “Guys,” Pil whispered, peering around, trying to force himself to see.

  “I — I’m here,” stuttered Dirk’s quiet voice.

  “Here,” whispered Felicity to his right.

  “How can we look, if we can’t see anything?” asked Pil, trying and failing to ignore the piercing chill around him.

  “Oh, wait! I forgot, I took this from — well, I got it when I was gathering up supplies.” There was a sudden emergence of bright purple light, and Dirk’s face came into focus. He was holding up a small stone.

  “Tiberius’s see-stone,” said Pil, relieved. He looked around to see Felicity’s pale face emerge from the shadows.

  The light didn’t extend very far, but they could at least see each other and the jagged walls that encased them.

  “Let’s move,” whispered Pil, heading cautiously forward.

  The floor of the Chasm was smooth and looked shiny and damp in the purple glow. Ahead the darkness seemed to escape from the faint light to reveal a seemingly unending space of black rock. Clearly the Chasm ran deeper into the ridge than Pil had thought; it was like a tunnel chewed out of the shadows.

  A quiet and slow rattling sound came over Pil as they moved along, rising from the stone walls around him. It was like claws picking their way across bars of iron. In the silence, it seemed to Pil as loud as a horn, yet likely it was only loud enough for his sharp ears to pick out.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked to the dimly lit shadow of Felicity.

  She nodded, face blanched and eyes wide.

  “Hear what?” Dirk asked, frightened.

  Pil raised his finger to his lips to silence him.

  He walked quietly, trying to hone in on the sound. It swelled with every step, as though they were walking towards the source of the rattling.

  Dirk’s eyes went wide and he swung the glowing rock farther out in front him, attempting to illuminate the rest of the cave. But the light only fell a few feet farther, and the tunnel continued.

  Pil stopped as a loud, harsh chime rang out. The rattling noise came to a complete stop. They paused, listening intently. The sound had come from just up ahead. But as they listened, there was only a deepening silence. Pil looked at Felicity with wide, questioning eyes. Felicity pulled out her whip in answer. Pil unsheathed his sword as quietly as he could and started forward.

  “Who is it,” rose a cold high voice as rough as the stone, “that presumes to squander my rest?”

  There was a shocked silence; the voice had seemed to come from the darkness just ahead.

  “Pil,” said Pil, attempting to keep a steady and sure tone.

  “Pil what?” rattled the voice, its tone colder than the air. “And with whom?”

  “Just Pil. Who are you?” Pil faltered in his confidence. “What are you?”

  The darkness stirred somehow, and Pil took an involuntary step back.

  “I? I take no name, though I have been gifted many… Blood-Bringer, Death, Demon, Fear, the Shadow, the Wretch,” finished the cold voice indifferently. “Take one as you please. As to what I am — that is not so easily given…” the voice added, rumbling off into its own darkness.

  Pil’s heart beat loudly in the silence. He could feel the bloodlust in this creature’s voice. He could feel its concealed control. This was no normal creature of Haven. Pil took the see-stone from Dirks unmoving hand and wa
lked steadily forward, leaving his friends frozen behind him. Slowly the purple light began to reflect off something that shown a dim gold. Finally, the end of the Chasm came into view.

  Glittering out at Pil like golden stars, was a small heap of treasure lying casually against a flat stone wall, which was covered in thick vines. Pil took in a short, cold breath. The purple light expanded as it uncovered the treasure and the end of the empty cave. Pil looked around in confusion.

  “You have failed to answer me —”

  Pil swung around. The dead voice had brushed his ears as though a cold whisper from right behind him. Nothing was there.

  “Fel — Dirk!” Pil yelled, suddenly realizing their absence.

  Only his voice echoed back to him, mocking his terror.

  “Such odd names…” came the harsh voice, again as though from right next to his ear.

  Pil was about to swing back around but his mind cleared, abruptly keeping him still. He knew what he would see if he turned around, he knew nothing would be there. He could feel the presence of the creature pushing in on him, teasing him. He realized with sudden clarity that he could be easily killed at any moment.

  “Elfin names,” said Pil crisply, his mind seemed to calm with his panic.

  “Elfin? Those of Fae’s things are still alive, are they? I had thought they died out years ago…” This time the rattling voice came from far away as though it were further back in the cave.

  Pil narrowed his eyes. Fae, why did that name sound familiar? Like a half-remembered dream. “We live. Look, give me back my friends, and you won’t ever see an Elfin ear pass through your Chasm again. I give you my word.”

  “Your word? And yet you stand here wielding a weapon as though to wound me?” The voice mocked him, chuckling with a sharp pitch.