A World Beyond the Dark

by Andrei Navala

  “I have no time for petty talk.” He diverted his attention from Anvalth for but a second and when he looked again, he was gone.

  “I heard someone in your squad has gone missing. Are you going to aid in the search party?” Liam paid him no mind and frantically looked around, finally spotting his target farther from the crowd, running in the direction of the village. He pushed aside anyone in his path and chased after the young man all the way to the outskirts of the camp. To his dismay, Anvalth vanished out of sight. He continued forward, looking around the trees all confused. The branches above him cracked and something heavy fell on his head, knocking him to the ground.

  “I bet cocky, spoiled noblemen like you have never even climbed a tree.” Anvalth even if angered, looked at him with pity. While he wasn’t so fortunate to live a carefree life, neither Liam could experience the beauty of youth, probably forced by his parents to follow a path he might have had no interest in. Taking a closer look, Anvalth noticed that Liam’s head was bleeding. He stood up and backed away from him, meaning to leave him lying on the ground. But they were far enough from the camp that it might be long before someone found him and he could bleed to death. He sighed and approached him, ripping a long piece of cloth from his tunic which he then wrapped around his head, after wiping away the blood of the wound. He looked around worried for any signs of someone but they were by themselves. The stillness of the forest and the sudden silence that fell around them was freaking him out. Anvalth unsheathed his rapier and finally left Liam, heading towards the village. Along with the feeling of responsibility for their lost friend, he felt pressed to go there, by a feeling he couldn’t describe.

  As he passed through a brush, he felt familiar warmth wrap his body. He suddenly found himself with a pair of arms around his chest and a dagger pointed at his neck. The person behind him chanted something in a feminine voice. His arms began to feel heavier, along with his legs and head. He bit his lower lip with as much strength as he could muster only to keep himself awake as he violently broke out of the deadly embrace. With one sweep of his rapier, he carved a deep wound in the chest of what seemed to be one of the girls from the other day. He flinched at such a sight and that gave the woman enough time to lunge at him with her dagger, grazing his left cheek. Anvalth wasn’t surprised only by her translucent robe which gave off strange, dim light but by her lifeless gaze as well. He dodged out of the way of another attack and tried to assess the situation. The aura surrounding her was making his fingers tremble on his hilt, more so than in his encounters with demons in the past. It was like what he’d imagined the presence of the Demon Queen would be, but this was just an insignificant fragment.

  With a slow motion of her hand, she carved her chest with the knife and began chanting in the mysterious language. Her eyes were glowing white and her body was floating above the ground graciously, as her hair was being blown up by a gust of wind. Anvalth had a terrible feeling about what will happen if he lingered any longer and so he sprinted around her and retreated to the clearing where he left Liam. His heart jolted, seeing another one of the witches lying over Liam with a knife in her hand. From the distance, he could barely see that Liam was wide awake but unable to move. A terrible feeling overwhelmed Anvalth and he was powerless to control it.

  “Get away from him!” He yelled from the bottom of his lungs, charging at the witch. He leapt and pierced forward with his rapier, slicing right through the witch’s head. With a horrifying lament, her being turned into mist and was blown off by the wind. Unable to control his rage, he was about to stab right through Liam’s chest, but a chain of darkness pulled him from behind. The feeling of the chain was mortifying but his wrath was coming off even stronger. Strengthened by his madness, he broke the chain and turned around, glaring at his aggressor. It was none other than the witch from before, floating above the ground and with her hair fluttering wildly. Anvalth charged at her but the witch threw her bloodied dagger with astounding speed. He was barely able to parry it with the guard of his rapier, the dagger slashing across his arm and falling to the ground. He leapt once more with his rapier above his head and swung down with vicious might, slashing her in two. Just like before, the witch turned into mist and vanished. He instinctively looked at the bleeding wound on his arm and his senses were suddenly brought back, along with a terrible headache. His right hand was completely numb and he dropped his rapier. The headache was followed by stinging pain in his chest and blurry vision. Despite the sudden state in which he was, he could hear hurried steps towards him.

  “For this act I will consider you absolved from the contract. Perhaps you are worth more than I estimated at first, both as an ally and as a person.”

  Anvalth’s hearing was getting weaker and he arched his back, grasping his chest with his left hand. The pain was out right unbearable for him and he dropped to the ground, yelling and cursing.

  “What the-” Exclaimed Liam, seeing him writhe in pain. “Get a hold of yourself! It’s just a bruise on your arm.” He knelt down in order to inspect the wound. He gasped, seeing what he thought was a simple knife wound turning into an amalgam of purple flesh from which bled a blue substance. He could see the substance slowly rising up his arm through his veins. Liam looked around but there wasn’t anyone around to help, and his understanding of magic or curses was limited. “There is no other way.” He thought, pulling out his ornate claymore.

  He pushed Anvalth on the ground with his foot, disgusted and afraid by the expanding curse. He took a deep breath as he slowly raised his sword above his head. He could tell Anvalth wouldn’t be able to bear this for long, his eyes full of tears and his hand clawing into his chest as if trying to rip his own heart out. He took one final gasp and swung down. He clenched his jaw as he could feel the claymore rip through the flesh. Right after, Anvalth’s bellowing scream echoed throughout the forest and afterwards silence fell. Liam’s body was stuck in place and he refused to open his eyes for a good, full minute.

  He hated bloodshed and wars, and Anvalth’s presumption was right. His parents did force him onto this path despite his pleads. He wanted to be a rich merchant, travelling around the world and selling his wares; getting to see all kinds of fabulous places and meeting beautiful women of all races. Haggling with people and tricking them into buying for more than the worth of his merchandise. All of his dreams were shattered once he joined the army of Élerion through the connections of his parents. He barely even knew to defend himself, and back in camp he would boast about slaying the Demon Queen only to trick the others into thinking he was actually strong and determined. The battlefield was ugly, and all he could’ve ever hoped for was beauty.

  He snapped back to reality, remembering what just happened. As he looked down upon Anvalth’s visage, all those bitter feelings of envy took ahold of him. He was picked by Rilwen and approved by Élerion himself to join their squad, and yet he was a mere commoner, a nobody.

  “Tsk…” Liam bit his lower lip in frustration as he kneeled down next to the unconscious Anvalth. He asked himself for a moment if the source of Anvalth’s strength wasn’t his Telaar, rather than actual combat prowess. Either way, he probably had more experience in battle than him and therefor was a more important asset to their squad than he was. He sheathed back his claymore and took off his gloves. The power bestowed upon him by Tela was that of controlling fire through his palms. He couldn’t shoot out balls of fire like trained wizards could, but he could heat up his palms enough to cauterize Anvalth’s wound for example, which he proceeded to do. When he was done, he put his gloves back on and picked him up from the ground, carrying him on his back. This act of humility hurt his pride, but he owed Anvalth his life.

  Chapter 2 - War rages on

  H e was running and running, down the dark alleyway. There was no time for him to catch his breath. To his sides stood towering walls reaching as far as he could see, and above nothing but the emptiness of void. He was afraid to stop or even look behind him. He knew it was following him. B
efore him was the mist of uncertainty, and every single one of his steps was hesitant, blindly put forward. As his legs were going numb, a light shone farther away and he mustered enough strength to continue running towards it, but it didn’t take long for the light to fade. A voice whispered something incomprehensible in his ear and he continued to go forward. He felt warmness around his abdomen and when he looked, there was a massive hole in his body from which flowed a stream of blood. He coughed and his breathing was heavier, his eyes were getting tired… he wanted to close his eyes. Another light appeared before him and this particular light seemed much closer, right next to him. It was giving him strength and healing his wounds, both physical and mental. He continued along with the light enveloping him, but as much comfort and reassurance it gave him, he knew his fear was closer and closer behind him. It was inescapable… He felt a flow of emotions through him, but it was suppressed by a single one, indomitable rage. His legs were carried forward by his anger alone and he felt a swift sting in his right arm. When he looked at it, it was missing from shoulder down. His heart was beating rapidly and his breathing was getting heavier. His legs were running slower and slower and he could feel a chill down his spine. He could feel a cold, petrifying breath right in the back of his neck. His fear was overwhelmed by curiosity and he turned around.

  He gasped for air as he rose from his bedroll. Anvalth was covered in sweat and his left hand was shaking in front of him, extended forward. He looked to his left and saw Rousseau sleeping soundly. His visage looked even younger when he slept. Anvalth turned to his right and next to him was an empty bed. He couldn’t quite remember who was sleeping there and yet, a feeling of melancholy struck him all of a sudden. He took a deep breath and after wiping his forehead with his left arm, he wanted to stand up slowly by leaning on his arms. It was then he realized something was strange. When he moved his right arm, nothing would appear in front of him. A strange sense of fear overwhelmed him, and yet he looked at his arm. It was nothing more than a stub. His heart shriveled and he entered a panicked state. His heart beat was going wild and he wanted to scream but nothing would come out. He stumbled forward out of the tent, all scared and trembling and got out into the night. A cold breeze was blowing and the sky was clear. Right outside of the tent, there was someone who’s visage he couldn’t discern because of how the pale light of the moon was coming down. They were sitting on a small, wooden chair, leaning their head against a crate. He tried to reach forward with his right arm but nothing happened. He felt distressed and his panic attack became even worse, leaving him out of breath. He fell on his back and gasped for air, with his eyes wide and terrified. He was living a nightmare, there was no way it was real.

  His commotion didn’t go unnoticed, and someone from another one of the tents came out, approaching him silently. Anvalth was unable to hear anything beyond the beat of his heart ringing loud in his ears, and he couldn’t see anything but the pale, white moon shining its light upon him. A few minutes passed before he calmed down on his own, and all of a sudden he felt exhausted. The person silently watching him stepped right in front of him and lent him his hand. It was Liam. He grabbed Liam’s left arm and hardly stood up. The two looked at each other in silence for a few moments. The gaze of the man who previously hated him had changed. It was now more serious and even somewhat compassionate.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  Anvalth simply shook his head in response.

  “It is better that way… How are you feeling?”

  Anvalth looked down at the stub of what used to be his right arm and back at Liam with a frightened gaze. It was clear that Liam was holding himself from saying anything that he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t anymore.

  “I hate you!” He exclaimed full of anger. “I hate you for who you are and for how other people look at you.” There was visible sorrow and despair in his angered tone. “Or at least I-I hated you… I hated you for how Rilwen looked at you and interacted with you all the time. I hated you for being so highly recognized by Élerion himself.” Liam was breathing heavily as he lost his composure. “I hated you for being a lowly commoner, daring to stand next to me and the others who are all noblemen. I hated every single part of your existence, and I couldn’t tell why I hated you this much…” His exhausted panting was proof of his intense emotions. “I wanted to make you suffer, even though I didn’t even know you. I just barely met you and I did the most despicable thing to you, putting you through all that.” Liam clenched his fists and bit his lip so hard that a narrow stream of blood flowed down his chin. “I was envious of you! I saw you fight that day against the behemoth and I was in awe at a simpleton like you, full of courage and prowess. Your devotion to your friend was outright admirable and I despised myself for being a weakling, a nobody compared to you.” His anger slowly shifted to sorrow. “No matter how much I strived, I could never achieve such feat, and I was only thankful for being in such a great and amazing squad who always did all the work for me. I barely ever had to raise my blade against a demon, let alone see people die around me. Everyone I knew was undefeated and full of glory and pride after each and every battle. I started lying to myself that I was too good to fight such trivial fiends, until you came and shattered all my illusions. I have no right to be here next to you, next to anyone in this camp.” Anvalth was utterly confused and terrified by his behavior. It felt like the wildest dream to see Liam act like that before him after seeing what he was capable of. “And even after that crude, horrible thing I did to you, you still put your life on the line for me. You were willing to give up your life for a useless piece of trash like me even though you had no reason to… I just cannot comprehend that… Why… why…” His voice grew fainter and his gaze fell to the ground.

  Anvalth swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He approached him and put his left hand on Liam’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

  “I forgive you.” was all he said to Liam who immediately pushed his arm off and ran out of their quarters. Liam stopped halfway through the camp and sat down in a dark corner of a tent, looking at the night sky in all its beauty.

  Back in their quarters, the person sitting on the chair was Rilwen and she heard their entire discussion. All the others were roused by Liam’s outburst but she told everyone to go back to sleep.

  “I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself. What an idiot I was…” Anvalth suddenly remembered all that transpired before he fell unconscious and he was impatient to ask multiple questions.

  “Did you find Henrick? How long have I been asleep?”

  “We did find Henrick… but it was too late. He was found dead and mutilated in the nearby village. It was all a scheme of the One-Not-To-Be-Named, for there were witches who killed the villagers and lured brave warriors from throughout the camp. We had quite some losses but Élerion couldn’t afford to waste any day so he went ahead with the main army and most of the cavalry. It’s been a day and a half since you’ve fallen unconscious… Liam brought you in, carrying you on his back. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you in that terrible state. You are lucky he was there with you because he cauterized the wound. Otherwise, you might not have been here now.”

  There was one final thing on his mind which he wanted to ask.

  “My arm… is there a way to heal it?” He put his hope in the miracles that the Light brought. Rilwen shook her head.

  “Go and rest for now. I’ll bring back Liam and we’ll see what can be done tomorrow.” Reticent and confused at first, Anvalth listened to her and went back inside. He laid in the bedroll on his left side, but just couldn’t sleep.

  Meanwhile, Rilwen left the quarters and looked around for Liam. She did eventually find him and the two talked as they travelled back.

  Eventually, a new dawn shined its light over the brave camp. The squad of the maiden woke up with their hearts more or less prepared. They buried their beloved brother in arms Henrick and held a short ceremony in which Rilwen gave everyone words of wisdom, tryin
g to raise their morale. But perhaps the most important part of the ceremony was appointing Anvalth as the new flag bearer of their squad. Everyone cheered and they had a moment of respite from all their troubles.

  A messenger of the main army arrived back in camp, to be the bearer of terrible news. Multiple squads were requested at once to clear the encroaching hordes of demons coming from behind Élerion’s troops. Rilwen left along with the messenger to a gathering of all the other squad leaders, deciding who’s to depart and who’s to stay behind.

  “Liam, would you like to spar with me in the meantime?” Rousseau approached him as friendly as ever. It was hard to refuse any of his requests, when he spoke in his innocent tone. Slightly reticent, Liam decided to go with the flow and take him on. Everyone looked at them with baffled expressions for it was the first time Liam agreed to spar with someone else. Only Anvalth was somewhat indifferent to the unusual event. He was preoccupied with his new role as flag bearer of the squad of the maiden. It felt heavy and his movements were sloppy but that did not break his determination.

  Most of the others were simply wasting time around or walking through the camp purposelessly. To Anvalth’s surprise, two visitors with which he was acquainted came to their quarters.

  “Captain!” he froze, remaining with the flag gripped tightly in his left hand. “I mean…” He was unsure what to call him. All his life as a soldier, that man was only known to him as captain. He knew his name, but he couldn’t bring himself to call him anything other than that.

  “Troy is fine…” The gaze of his previous captain fell on his right arm. He stared intently, both surprised and somewhat saddened. “I see the warrior’s life didn’t treat you quite well. What brought such misfortune?”

  Anvalth was still somewhat bewildered by the presence of his captain and another one of his old comrades.

  “Our camp was under siege by witches sent from the One-Not-To-Be-Named. My memories of that time are hazy and I couldn’t tell you exactly but I believe I’ve fought one myself.” He took a long pause before saying anything else. “Hey, Val.” the one next to the captain, dressed pretty poorly, raised his hand and nodded curtly. He looked around him with a flustered gaze, at the nobles staring at them. The captain sensed his discomfort and was about to say his good byes and leave, but someone popped right behind them.