A World Beyond the Dark

by Andrei Navala

  When he was about to give up and depart, he heard a sudden noise, the creaking of a door. His heart froze. Was it a humanoid or something else? Was it just the wind, blowing open a door or a window? His curiosity got the best of him and so he wandered to where the creepy sound came from. His fingers were eagerly waiting around the hilt, ready to draw the blade at the first sign of danger. He felt a bump and realized it was the first step of the porch. He walked up slowly as his breathing was getting heavier and his heart beat was accelerating.

  “Is anyone here?” He shouted, his voice slightly trembling. He cleared his throat and continued. “Is anyone still in this village?” His voice echoed all alone throughout the silent village. He was having second thoughts and was about to turn around and walk away.

  “So loud…” Spoke someone to his left. Anvalth jumped up and drew his blade, pointing it in the direction of the voice. “I can’t see very well, who are you?” The voice was that of an old man, weak and harsh.

  “I-I didn’t see you, feel you there. Are you from this village?” Anvalth could hear small steps heading his way across the porch and he backed away, heading out into the rain with his rapier still in hand.

  “Oh… yes. I am.” He was speaking rather slowly. “Come in sonny, before you catch a cold...”

  Anvalth felt something off concerning the old man. What bothered him most was that he couldn’t even feel his presence. It was like he did not even exist, but his voice and the sound of his steps were as real as they got. As much as he hated the thought, there was something telling him to stay. The old man had already vanished inside the shadowy house and Anvalth followed him, shutting the door behind him. He took off his dirty leather boots and scouted the entire chamber for any unholy presence.

  “What happened here? Are the others too afraid to meet an outsider? Were it not for you, I would’ve thought these are just abandoned ruins.”

  “Yes, yes… they’re all scared. Who wouldn’t be on such a rainy day?” Anvalth could tell something was off about his speech.

  “Tell me, where are we right now?” The young man had begun inspecting the house, feeling around and encountering only dust and cobwebs covering everything.

  “I… nobody knows. Where are we anywhere? Are we here, are we there?”

  “Say, you don’t live here too often, do you?” His suspicions were mounting up but there wasn’t anything to tie them all together.

  “I live here all the time.”

  “And do you live by yourself?” Anvalth was trying to find his way back to the door.

  “Nay, my wife needs to be coming home any minute now. She will cook you a delicious, warm meal.” He could hear the old man pull a chair and sit on it. The faint sizzling of flames could be heard, coming from a stove.

  “I don’t think I can wait around any longer. I’ll be going now-”

  “No! Don’t leave!” His voice was loud and powerful all of a sudden, full of anger and sorrow. Anvalth pulled out his rapier and pointed it at the old man. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that… they all left, left me alone.”

  “Who left you, your family?” Anvalth was getting really tense but he stopped before putting on his boots.

  “Everyone… A shadow ran past us, sweeping away all the others. I thought it was a cloud at first… Yes, a cloud for sure, it was raining."

  Anvalth was finally able to make out the details of what was going on. Just as Ainnea prevented him, the demons were running rampant through Reath and this village was no exception. He was perhaps the sole survivor and he had gone insane. Anvalth sheathed back his rapier, deciding to put trust in his own instincts.

  “I will stay then, at least until I meet your wife. It would be rude otherwise.” Anvalth stumbled forward, encountering a chair and pulling it behind him, taking a seat.

  “They are watching us, you know. They have eyes everywhere…”

  “Is that so?” Anvalth’s fingertips were resting on the blade’s hilt.

  “I hate the rain. It’s awful, awful really, especially since she went out on such terrible weather. My wife should be coming any minute now.”

  “Tell me more about yourself and your wife.”

  The old man told him his story, but unlike before he was speaking in a normal manner, without senselessly repeating or mentioning anything absurd. His calm voice was making Anvalth tired and he could really close his eyes… but he shook his head and listened to what the old man had to tell. The story reminded him somewhat of himself and Liliana. A farmer’s life was all the same throughout the continent after all.

  “Do you have someone you love, sonny?”

  It was Anvalth’s turn to tell him his story and afterwards the two spoke some more and time passed by without him even noticing.

  “Oh, it’s night. She should be coming back. My wife went out to loan some food, we are poor you see.” Anvalth searched through his knapsack and pulled out one of his rations. He still had plenty after all. He stood up and handed the unwrapped polenta to the old man. “Thank you kindly, sir. You have a good heart.”

  “I have a question for you. Why did you try to stop me from leaving so intently?” The old man sighed, finishing his bite.

  “I-I was always afraid…”

  “Afraid of what? Tell me if you need help with anything.”

  “I was afraid of dying alone. I never really bonded with anyone, until I met my wife you see. Such a kind hearted, gentle gal she was. There’s no telling what might happen in her absence though. So please, stay the night. Is this request of a scrawny, helpless old man too much?”

  Loneliness, he experienced it as well. In his first years of service for the mercenary corps, he didn’t have anyone he could talk to, until he met Tarna. Afterwards it was just an amalgam of souls, trying to bond with him; the squad of the maiden and the exiled magus of the enchanted woods. He shivered at the thought of his squad, as if something terrible had happened, which he couldn’t quite remember.

  “Alright, I understand. Maybe you should rest and I’ll watch over you.” The old man slowly stood up and moved through the room, sitting in the only bed that Anvalth discovered previously.

  “When my wife comes, tell her to prepare you a warm meal. I love her so, so much…” He whispered, pulling a blanket over himself. “This past day was a very long one, and I’ve been feeling really cold, but since you came it was nothing but warmness and calm. Maybe I can finally… rest.”

  Before he could fall asleep, Anvalth was playing around with the utility knife he had in his possession. The rain was still pouring outside but it was soothing to the listener. His head was getting heavier and heavier. He turned his head towards the old man, trying to sense any vile aura around him. His arm was getting heavy and he dropped the knife on the ground. He lied back in his chair and he felt a sensation as if something was pulling him down, endlessly. It was a strange sensation he rarely felt when falling asleep.

  Anvalth had a dream. He was in the very same room in which he fell asleep but he could clearly see it. It was dark outside and he was sitting in his chair, unable to move. His gaze was fixed on the tired old man, sleeping soundly in his bed. The first light of dawn was barely shining through the windows. He felt something pass through his back and emerge out his chest, a ghastly aura. He could see a shapeless outline of something, floating above the table. It was looking at the old man. Mist formed around and it took the shape of a humanoid, a female. She was floating graciously above the table. With slight movements through the air, she approached the old man and put both her arms over him. A similar mist was coming from the gaping mouth of the old man, taking the form of another humanoid, a man. Anvalth finally realized there was a large hole in the rooftop from which rain continuously poured inside the house. But the rain seemed to have stopped, and a few gentle, bright rays of light barely shone through, towards them. The two misty beings were holding hands and they moved silently along the ray of light, upwards and out of the room. One of the beings
was waving its hand at him as it faded into the sky. The scattered faint red waves of light marked a new dawn shining over the ruins of the village. The vision slowly turned dark and Anvalth woke up.

  As he got up from the chair, he stepped on something hard, cutting himself. It was his knife, lying on the ground. He leaned down, picking it up and instinctively felt the floor with his fingers. On it were scribbled the words “thank you”. He smiled and put back his knife, bandaging his foot afterwards. He put his boots on and left the house in a hurry, taking out a ration and eating it as he walked. The rain had stopped and he could clearly sense the way to his home. Anvalth felt at ease after the unusual experience the other day and wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings. The wind was blowing gently through his hair and he occasionally scratched his beard. He was struck with the desire to wash himself after travelling for so long. He was way past that river and he could only hope to find another one, or perhaps a lake.

  The magic that Ainnea taught him was strange to what he had expected, and surprisingly accessible for most. It relied mostly on the power of one’s mind but he did not know to what extent it worked. She taught him how to find places with which he had a connection, but there was no telling if he could find something else. As entranced as he was by the thought of a pool of water, he didn’t realize that he changed his direction, turning to the left through the field. The vegetation was tall and dense and he barely made his way through the field. He could even sense the presence of mice running around, scared of him. Birds which fed on rodents circled above, he could just tell. But his ears picked up on something else, voices somewhere ahead. “Out in the wild they could only be travelling merchants”, he thought as he continued with haste. They didn’t notice him yet and he was getting closer and closer to them.

  “Aye, heard there’s a village nearby. Tas’ why chief sent us to scout.”

  “Oi, there’s someone ‘ere.”

  “Relax, he’s blind don’t ya see? Watch me.” The person who spoke lowered his voice, but his words didn’t escape Anvalth’s keen hearing. “Hey, blind man. What are you doing here all by yerself? These fields are dangerous, prowling with bandits.” The man approached him and Anvalth unsheathed his rapier, cutting off his head with the same movement. He could hear the other two draw their weapons and charge towards him, yelling angrily. He dodged backwards as a knife flew past him and then he darted towards the one to his right. A sweep and a flick of his wrist was enough to draw his blood onto the blade. A swift grunt was the signal that he died.

  “I’ll bash yer head in, ya-” Anvalth parried the incoming hit and with a flourish strikes he chopped the last bandit into pieces. The rush of adrenaline faded, but it wasn’t the only thing he felt during battle. He had a sixth sense in combat, allowing him to predict the movements of his enemies, which he didn’t have before. Out of all the other skirmishes that he had during his life and that he could remember none of them came even close to how overpowering he felt against the bandits. He wiped his blade clean and sheathed it back, resuming his stroll through the open field. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of battle and realized he was going in the wrong direction. When did he change his path? He stopped in his tracks and pondered.

  It was quite intriguing that once he followed the wrong way he met up with the bandits. Perhaps he could find more of them if he continued. A sudden sense of satisfaction surged through him as he thought of the murdered bandits. To him they weren’t humans or dwarves or elves, they were monsters deserving to be hunted.

  After some time, his search came to fruition when he heard noise from ahead. He wasn’t sure they were bandits, but there was no other option in the middle of the wilderness. The large open field had turned into a forest with but few trees that he encountered. It was the perfect place for setting camp. He sneakily approached the noise, hiding behind a tree trunk.

  “Oi ye’ bastard! Why’d you take more meat when we’re running low? And where’d you get the booze?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Chief, this one here’s stealin’ from our reserve.”

  “Pipe down… I’ll lend some to you.”

  “Have you seen Ratchet?”

  “Heard he was sent by the boss to lead the rookies on a scouting mission.”

  “I’m gonna take a piss. If y’all touch my food yer screwed.” The sound of footsteps was coming his way, stopping slightly farther away from his tree. Anvalth crouched and turned around the tree. With a large leap, he covered the distance between them and pierced the throat of his opponent, dragging him into a nearby bush.

  “Hey, did you see that?”

  “Wha’?”

  “Bastard vanished in a bush all of a sudden.”

  The sword of drawn swords echoed through the forest. Anvalth could discern five different sources. He was surprisingly calm even outnumbered, but the hate he had for any bandit drove him out of his hiding spot before they could even approach. He rushed towards them and could sense some sort of barricades. He vaulted over large wooden spikes with feline agility and swung his rapier, dismembering one opponent. Another one was coming in from behind him and he leapt over the dismembered bandit, forcing the other one to implant his weapon in the body of his ally. Anvalth thrust his rapier straight through the head of the second one and the remaining three all surrounded him, moving in unison. He pulled out his blade, crouched and raised it above his head, parrying three hits at once. He dashed right beneath them letting their weapons drop to the ground while jumping on the back of one, thrusting his rapier through the neck and then pushing him into the ground with his feet, leaping over another and slashing his chest and face. With a roundhouse kick in the air he pushed the fourth one onto the ground but was struck by the short sword of the remaining one. The blade cut a shallow wound in his side. He turned around and swung with might, lopping off the head. The final body fell lifeless on the ground and Anvalth took a deep breath.

  He felt a sudden sting in his back and he coughed blood. Someone implanted a dagger in his back because of his carelessness. He distanced himself with two large steps and readied his rapier by his side. There was indeed one more bandit which he didn’t notice from the beginning. His opponent charged at him and their swords clashed, releasing sparks which he felt on his face. He parried another hit and tried to push forward with his blade but the bandit moved out of the way and tried a low sweep. Anvalth was too late to pick up on the change of position and took the blow which cut his left thigh. He thrust his rapier in the ground all of a sudden and pulled out the dagger from his back, coughing more blood. His opponent took the bait and attacked when he thought he was most vulnerable but Anvalth swept the ground with his foot, rising up dust and followed the movement with a dagger throw which hit the mark. A short pained grunt followed by heavy huffing revealed to him that his opponent was in a shape worse than his. With a reverse grip he picked up his rapier and strode forward, holding it sideways like a shield. The bandit tried to swing from above but he simply raised his rapier and swung his arm, disarming his enemy. His left foot was going numb and he fell on one knee right as he was about to deliver the finishing blow. The bandit punched him in the face, knocking Anvalth on his back. He wiped the blood from his nose and mouth with the back of his hand and tried to stand up but the bandit kicked him back to the ground. When the bandit fell over him in an attempt to restrain his legs and arm, he pushed away his hands and extended his hand from the elbow, cutting off one hand of his opponent. Anvalth then kicked him away with his right leg and jumped up driving the reversely gripped rapier through the head of his out of balance opponent. The bandit fell lifeless along with the rapier, like a skewered boar. Anvalth fell forward leaning on his arm, coughing out more blood. He wasn’t scared that he might’ve lost, he was just angry that he struggled to defeat the miserable bandit. A memory of his sister flashed before his eyes and he punched the already dead bandit in the head, over and over again. Anvalth yelled out in anger as blood
dripped from the corner of his mouth. He pulled out his rapier and wiped it of blood hastily. He threw the knapsack from his shoulder onto the ground and strived to bandage his wounds as best he could with his sole hand. He was getting dizzy from the blood loss but after many failed attempts, he succeeded in covering his wounds and picked up the knapsack. He felt a need to investigate something close nearby, to his left. It was as if he desired to go there. He walked towards it carefully and one of his steps went further down, into water. The bandits built their base next to a pond. He swiftly took off his clothes and kept with him only the rapier. Upon entering the pond, he held the loose bandage around his back from drifting away. His fresh wounds singed in the cold water, but he felt at ease.

  After a short relaxing bath, while he waited for his body to dry, he rummaged through the bandit’s belongings. He managed to acquire some cooked meat and a flask of alcohol, along with sacks of coins which he barely had space to carry.

  He left the camp with his knapsack full and his heart relieved that his actions might have saved people from dying in the future. He remembered the conversation of the scouts and shook his head in disgust, thinking that they could’ve reached the abandoned village only to desecrate it further. With a prolonged sigh, he cleared his thoughts and followed the path leading to his home.