The Darkness of Dawn

by Braden Michael

  Andy’s stoicism disappeared and was replaced by determination. “Oh, I will.” He had a devilish grin as he hopped into the arena.

  “I’m glad they could warm you up for me,” Andy said to the Rockland champion as he approached the fallen Emberlander. “You fought well, but it’s my turn now, soldier. I’ll be needing your helm and sword,” he said, holding his hand out to the grounded soldier, then hoisting him up to his feet.

  Still out of breath, the Emberlander took off his helm, revealing a bloody nose, then handed his sword to Andy. He shambled to the end of the arena and climbed out, with the help of the soldiers nearby.

  While staring down the Rockland champion with a smug look, Andy wiped the inside of the helm. He stretched his neck then put the helm on over his head, fastening it securely. He walked over to the Rockman with his hand held out, and the Rockman shook his hand.

  “This’ll be a fun fight!” the Rockman said enthusiastically.

  “You won’t be having fun by the end,” Andy said with a grin.

  The champions entered their fighting stances, stepping around the space, sizing up each other. For what felt like minutes, Andy and the Rockman continued their measured dance, ignoring the displeasure of the crowd.

  “C’mon! Will someone do something!?”

  “You’re gonna fight or make out!?”

  The men continued to shout, their blood seeming to reach a soft boil. Andy and the Rockman were too focused on one another to pay any mind to the jeers. The measured dance persisted, and the crowd’s frustration continued to increase. Asher stood by as the only neutral observer, looking back and forth between the two fighters and the sea of seemingly blood-lusting onlookers.

  The unmistakable sharp and high-pitched clang of sword-on-sword cut through the cluttered mess of all other sound as the Rockman took his first swing at Andy, who deflected effortlessly. The Rockman went on to direct the pace of the fight, attacking intermittently and relentlessly, but Andy appeared much more in control. What was an extraordinary fight for the Rockman, was a mundane blocking drill for Andy.

  The crowd turned rabid, their cheers and jeers a jumbled and incoherent mess. Asher could not look away from their faces. Without warning, the vivid images flooded back into his mind. The villagers screaming into the dirt and emerging as bloodthirsty and feral monsters who ran headfirst into a senseless mob of violence. As much as he dreaded it, Asher’s mind returned to the image of death, and how it had painted the village square. It also had painted the Furakuhold on his orders, and once he marched on Howell, it would paint much of the Dawnlands.

  Unity. Unity. Unity.

  CH 46 – Black Eyes XII

  Just when Black Eyes thought they had taken everything from him, they took away the very thing that made him feel like a man. The mutilator treated the process like a routine, without passion. The Bargemen barely mustered a half-hearted chuckle when Black Eyes screamed out in agony.

  “The Archon will want to see that as proof,” the mutilator said, pointing to Black Eyes’ freshly removed parts.

  A Bargeman picked up the pieces with a disgusted scowl on his face. As he shambled out of the cell, he held the parts out while glaring at Viktor. “The same will happen to you, Winterlander, unless you prove yourself compliant!”

  The Bargemen marched away, their footsteps diminishing as they went farther away. Black Eyes sat meekly in the corner of his freezing cell, curled into a ball and growing increasingly numb all over.

  The gash seemed to mock him. It was a wound he had only inflicted upon rapists, as it seemed the only appropriate punishment other than death. He had inflicted that wound on countless scumbags, and he remembered the pitiful look on every one of their faces when the knife went in. In an instant, the horrible arrogant monster turned into a beaten dog, with the eyes that begged for forgiveness. He knew it was the exact same face he made when he received his justice, and he wondered if those Bargemen gave him any pity or not.

  When thoughts of the Archon’s face resurfaced in Black Eyes’ mind, he found himself getting filled with the highest order of rage imaginable. This new rage did not compare to when he found Reyna’s corpse, or when the Sapphire Prince killed his father, but it was of little use since he had become a shell of the man he once was. “Black Eyes” was a legend across the Dawnlands who scared anyone he came across, and now he was a eunuch, shivering and sobbing in the cold corner of a Deadland prison cell. Is this how I’ll be remembered? Will Becky even care to remember me if I’ve broken my promise?

  “Black Eyes,” Viktor mumbled.

  Black Eyes offered no response.

  “Hey! Duncan!”

  Black Eyes looked up at Viktor, blank-faced. “What are you on about?”

  “We gotta get out of this place!” Viktor pleaded.

  “In what way do we get out of here?” Black Eyes’ voice was overpowered by the cold.

  “I don’t know, but we have to do something!” Viktor contended.

  “If you decide to do anything, they’ll chop your cock and balls off too.”

  “They can fucking try,” Viktor seethed.

  “What do you think you’re gonna do? Huh?” Black Eyes asked weakly.

  “These brutes are even easier to piss off than Winterguardsmen. I piss them off, they come in here, and I beat them to death!”

  Shivering intensely, barely able to move his body, Black Eyes barely mustered a chuckle. He looked up at Viktor with a disillusioned face. “H—how the f—fuck are you g—gonna beat them to death?”

  “It’s quite simple, really. As a Winterlander, this is barely a mild summer to me, and I am also much bigger than any of these cunts. I just punch them, take a weapon, and kill all of them,” said Viktor.

  “It’s that easy, eh?’ Black Eyes doubted.

  “For me, perhaps. I know you could handle it if you weren’t so bad at dealing with cold, but nobody’s perfect.”

  Black Eyes glared at Viktor with a fraction of the malevolence he was once capable of, as Viktor ignored his glare and walked over to the bars.

  “Hey assholes! Get the fuck down here! Black Eyes ain’t doing so well!” Viktor shouted towards the hallway.

  “W—what the fuck are y—you…” Black Eyes tried to protest.

  Viktor’s shouts were met with footsteps faintly echoing down the hall. They gained in both speed and volume with each passing second.

  “No shit! The fuck you on about, Winterlander!?” a Bargemen shouted. He stopped just before the cell and glared angrily at Viktor.

  “Look at him,” Viktor said, gesturing towards Black Eyes. As the Bargeman looked over at Black Eyes, Viktor continued. “You boys did a real number on him, eh?”

  The Bargeman and Black Eyes gazed at one another. The Bargemen gave an expression that suggested he saw nothing abnormal. He then turned around to look Viktor with an even angrier expression.

  “We’ll do the same to you, asshole! Don’t waste my fucking time!” the Bargeman shouted, turning to leave.

  “If you so much as come near me, I’ll rip your head off and shove it up your corpse’s asshole,” Viktor said calmly.

  What the fuck is he doing!? Black Eyes thought angrily. He wanted to protest but was unable.

  The Bargeman’s eyes were wide open and his jaw agape. “You… what are you… who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “I’m the one that’s going to mutilate your corpse, Deadlander,” Viktor seethed.

  “If I come into that cell, you’re as good as dead,” the Bargeman antagonized.

  “If.”

  The Bargeman was too stunned to reply. He stammered and scoffed, the turned toward the hallway to leave. “That was your last mistake!” he screeched, running away.

  Black Eyes looked at Viktor dumbfounded. You fucking idiot! Now we’re both fucking dead! He wanted nothing more than to shout at Viktor’s shit-eating-grinning face, but he still could not make a sound.

  Smug and satisfied, Viktor stepped over to his cot and ripp
ed out one of the legs, the wood making a sharp splitting sound. He examined the cot leg carefully, nodding happily at the sharp and pointed end. He swung it around a few times to get comfortable, then he hobbled to the back wall of his cell, holding the cot leg behind his back, maintaining his smug expression.

  A storm of footsteps echoed down the hall, accompanied by the clanks of heavy plate armor. The sounds got progressively louder, stopping suddenly when five Bargemen emerged in front of the cell gates, grinding to a sudden halt.

  “The Winterlander! He’s the one that still needs to learn his fucking lesson!” the first Bargeman shouted.

  “Should we do him the same as the black-eyed freak?” another chimed in.

  “We beat him first!” the first Bargeman shouted.

  The Bargeman all chuckled approvingly as one of them pulled a key out of his pouch, walked up to Viktor’s gate, and unlocked it. He opened the gate and the five men walked inside and glared him down.

  “All right Winterlander. You ain’t gonna enjoy this—”

  Flesh squishing and agonized screams cut off the Bargeman’s taunts, as Viktor’s cot leg met his eye.

  “SHIT!” a Bargeman screamed.

  Before anyone, even Black Eyes, could fathom, Viktor grabbed the eyeless Bargeman’s sword, threw the body into the others, and slashed at the stumbling foes. Within seconds, Viktor stood in his cell amongst five blood-stained Bargemen.

  When the commotion had begun, Black Eyes had flinched, and it had ended before he fully recovered. Viktor was doused in blood, grabbing the key from one of the corpses, proceeding to exit the cell. He walked out towards Black Eyes’ gate and began to unlock it.

  “It’s that easy, eh?” Viktor said in Black Eyes’ Emberland accent, chuckling.

  As Viktor unlocked and entered the cell, Black Eyes became increasingly light-headed and started to fade. However, it did not feel anything like passing out. Is this where I die?

  “Hey,” said Viktor.

  I failed you, Becky. I failed you, father. His vision faded to absolute black as he keeled over. The crushing pressure of looming death encapsulated him.

  “Black Eyes!” Viktor shouted.

  Then, there was only darkness.

  CH 47 – Viktor V

  “Black Eyes!”

  Black Eyes’ body turned limp and lifeless. Viktor quickly knelt and felt for his pulse.

  THUMP. THUMP. The beats were dangerously slow, but Viktor exhaled in relief regardless.

  “Hey! Wake up, asshole!” Viktor shouted, shaking him.

  No matter how hard he shook, or how many times he slapped or kicked him, Black Eyes did not wake up. Viktor shook his head, standing up and backing away.

  “Not everyone gets so mopey when they lose their cock, you know,” said Viktor.

  When Black Eyes offered no response, Viktor sighed and looked around, thinking of his next move. When no immediate inspiration came to him, he began pacing around holding his head with both his hands. I really didn’t think this through. They’ll take more than my cock for that, he reflected, semi-panicked.

  Viktor calmed down when he looked back at the Bargemen corpses in his cell. One of the dead attackers was only a little smaller than he was. Could I?... Seriously? He almost laughed at the thought, but no viable alternative came to his mind.

  Viktor hurried back into his cell. He went to the similarly sized body and began taking off its armor piece by piece, undoing the breastplate straps, then the shoulders, then gauntlets, until finally only the helm remained. He quickly slipped out of his prisoner’s clothes, the cold stinging his naked body, until he dressed himself in the Bargeman’s blood-stained underclothes. The damp blood in the wool made him squeal, but he tried his best to ignore it as he fastened the armor onto himself. Everything was uncomfortably snug, but he was forced to make do. Once he was fully dressed, he went back into Black Eyes’ cell, and hoisted him over his shoulder. Time to leave, I guess.

  Viktor slung Black Eyes over his shoulder while wielding a short spear. He began up the hallway the Bargemen had come from, which was dark and lit only by torches. The sounds of his footsteps pattering echoed throughout his walk along the hall and up the stairs. When he opened the exit door, he was promptly met with bright daylight and a small courtyard, in which a single Bargeman stood guard.

  “Hey Thomas! Where’re the other guys?” the guard called out gleefully.

  Viktor stopped dead in his tracks. Fuck, this helm hides my face, right? And how does “Thomas” talk? He stood and looked at the inquisitive guard, and began stammering, “Uh, th—they are tending to the Winterlander.”

  The guard looked at Viktor suspiciously and slowly approached him, drawing his sword. “You don’t fuckin’ sound like Thomas, and you aren’t supposed to be taking that freak outta his cell!”

  Viktor thrust the end of his spear into the neck of the guard, who tried to speak but his words only came out as meaningless gurgles. As he pulled his spear out, the sound of the flesh being mangled shot into the air, followed by the resounding thud of the guard’s body as it collapsed onto the ground.

  The courtyard was quite small, made of stone and metal, with no aestheticism. He spotted a small flight of stairs leading to a bridge that cut to the side, and he quickly ran to the stairs.

  Peering out over the bridge’s railings, Viktor was able to see the entirety of Hivemind: hundreds of massive buildings spanned the area below. The harbor had two massive barges anchored, and several smaller ships sailing throughout. This place is larger than any settlement I’ve ever seen, he reflected. Thinking about the true nature of Hivemind made Viktor shudder. Snapping back to the present situation, he kept going down the bridge, passing the window of his cell. A few wooden planks were secure over the bridge’s railing, all of which had ropes secured to them. Viktor peered down to see the hanged bodies he had seen from his cell. This could have been me, he reflected, now feeling more secure in his choices.

  Once Viktor reached the end of the bridge, he reached a giant staircase that led down towards the city. Partway down the stairs he turned around, taking in the buildings behind him. The bridge connected two towers that were part of the same building: The Dead Cell Prison? Viktor thought. Far off to the side and on an even higher hill than the prison was a massive building like no other in all Hivemind. While most of the buildings took on a stark and rustic look, the massive hilltop building had a completely foreign yet familiar look. The texture was incomprehensibly smooth, and captured Viktor’s eyes. It feels like an Artifact, but not quite… Those men mentioned “the Archon.” Could that be where he is? Viktor shuddered then quickly began to descend the steps.

  Closer to the bottom of the staircase, his body began to strain from Black Eyes’ weight. He ignored the pain and continued down the steps, eventually reaching the bottom. The stench of the city filled his nose: corpses, salt water, and waste. I never thought I’d miss the Winterlands.

  Viktor found himself on a large road that cut through many buildings and was filled with foot traffic. There was roughly one Bargeman to every three Exiles, all of whom paid him little to no mind. He began wandering throughout the city, with the still-unconscious Black Eyes slung over his shoulder. I need to find somewhere to rest, he decided.

  The Bargemen either muttered amongst themselves, belittled their Exiles, or carried on in silence as Viktor carried Black Eyes past them. Viktor began to twist his face in frustration, hopelessly looking around him, finding no apparent safe zone for him to run to.

  “Where you headed with him, friend?” someone called out.

  Are they talking to me? Fuck, Viktor thought. “Talking to me?” he asked, doing his best to impersonate a Bargeman.

  “I most certainly am talking to you,” a middle-aged Bargeman, likely an officer, said as he stepped in front of Viktor. “Where’re you taking that one?”

  “The Archon told me to take this one to the harbor,” Viktor said without hesitation, his body’s discomfort apparent in his voice
.

  “You spoke to the Archon? You don’t look that fucking important,” the officer said impatiently.

  Viktor stared at the officer, failing to muster a response.

  “I don’t recognize you. Who the hell are you? And why’s your spear bloody?” the officer interrogated, slowly drawing his sword.

  Viktor quickly glanced at his spear blade, and the blood on it glistened in the daylight. Around him, a dozen Bargemen glared at him and the officer, while dozens of Exiles stood still with anxiety and uncertainty.

  “What the fuck’s up with you?” Viktor asked.

  “Excuse me!? What the—”

  An arrowhead pierced the officer’s helm and shot out the other side, red with blood. He immediately fell to the ground with a resounding thud. Viktor backed away, shocked, looking all around him at the equally shocked Bargemen and Exiles. A few Bargemen instinctively ducked, others looked around for the archer, and a few others charged at Viktor.

  Viktor dropped Black Eyes and readied his spear. He ran it through the neck of the first attacker, turning the handle to guide him in front of the other attackers, making them stumble to the ground. Viktor pulled the spear out and then plunged it into the grounded attackers, one by one, grunting viciously with each stab. When he pulled his spear out of the third attacker, he glared at the remaining Bargemen, all of whom glared back. Viktor ripped the helm off his head and held his spear out, a war-hungry grimace plastered on his face.

  “You sick fuckers wanna die too!?” Viktor roared, making no more effort to hide his Winterland accent.

  The Bargemen’s faces turned visibly bloodthirsty as they drew their blades and began walking towards Viktor. While most of the Exiles stood by and watched nervously, one of them bashed in the head of a Bargeman, blood erupting all around. The Bargemen stopped in their tracks and turned to look, but the Exiles immediately turned on them, using anything they could find as weapons. All around, countless Exiles ganged up on the Bargemen. Despite the superior weapons and armor wielded by the Bargemen, the Exiles were too much for them to handle. The Bargemen were strangled, clubbed, and crushed to death.