Prince of Darkness

by Blake Arthur Peel

  "Everything alright? Why are you smiling?"

  "Because," I answer, chuckling tiredly, "it actually worked. Our plan can move forward. Now, we actually have real hope."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Owyn

  The ride back to Tarsys is long and exhausting – especially considering that we are now down one horse. Zara and I share a mount as we ride and eventually, we make it back through the city gates. Elias and General Mohr are waiting for us when we arrive, anxious for any information that we can provide.

  We dismount and the Nightingales who had accompanied us return to their posts, departing without so much as a word.

  "It worked," Zara says, holding her wounded hand close to her chest and grimacing as I help her get out of the saddle.

  "What worked?" Mohr asks, ruddy face twisting in confusion.

  "The spell," she answers tiredly, though her eyes are triumphant. "It is an ancient spell that will help us defeat the demons. We now know for a fact that it will work, so long as I have sufficient help and you can hold the city long enough."

  "The city will hold," Mohr affirms stiffly, his polished armor glinting in the light of the setting sun.

  "That's excellent news," Elias says at almost the same time, though his face becomes lined with concerned upon seeing the bloody bandages binding Zara's hand. "And what happened here?"

  "A small inconvenience," Zara replies quickly, tucking her hand into a pocket in her robes to hide it from view. "Consider it a small price to pay for something that will help us save the kingdom. Needless to say, the demons have been dealt with and the refugees are safe – for now."

  Elias quirks an eyebrow at her but does not argue, nor does he press her to explain any further.

  The two of them depart and begin busying themselves with other matters, seeing to the defense of the city and the migration of the refugees to Dunmar City. All around us, soldiers bustle this way and that, knights in steel-plated armor and Nightingales in dark cloaks.

  These are strange times we live in, I think to myself, standing in the middle of the square beside Zara. Strange times indeed.

  "I need to go to the Academy," Zara says after a moment, her slender figure pulling close to mine. "The Conclave needs to be involved with this mission. I won't be able to replicate the spell on such a large source crystal without considerably more power."

  I let out a long sigh. "Hardly a moment to take a breath."

  "I know," she replies, leaning against me with her head resting against my chest. Her hair smells so fragrant, like wildflowers on a midsummer's day. "I wish that we could just run away with each other and forget the troubles in the world for a time."

  "Well – why don't we?"

  She glances up at me, her eyebrows furrowing questioningly. "You know as well as I," she replies, soft brown eyes holding my gaze. "So much depends on us... on what we do. Time is the one thing we don't have."

  Again, I sigh in frustration. "It just doesn't seem fair."

  She regards me for a moment, then stands up on the tips of her toes and plants a soft kiss upon my lips. "There's much about this world that isn't fair. I'm just glad that we get to spend what little time we do have together."

  I lean down and kiss her back, a long, lingering kiss that causes my heart to burn within me. Then, all too quickly it is over. She backs away and shrugs her shoulders apologetically.

  "I'd better get going," she says, voice gentle. "Catch up with you later."

  "Of course," I reply, forcing a smile. Then, I hand the reins over to her. "You take the horse. I don't like the idea of you walking these streets alone after dark."

  She takes the reins, but replies, "I can take care of myself you know." Her hand reaches up to grasp at something around her neck, a look of shock crossing her face when she finds a broken fragment of crystal. Then she seems to remember that her talisman was destroyed. More contritely, she says, "Thanks, Owyn."

  "Don't mention it."

  I help her into the saddle, then walk beside her to the street leading to the Academy.

  "Make sure we have enough supplies for the journey," she says after a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I have a feeling that we'll be heading out first thing in the morning."

  "Yes, of course, Magus," I reply in mock deference. "Is there anything else I can do to serve you?"

  She rolls her eyes at me and nudges the horse forward. "Just make sure we don't starve on the way to the wastes. Oh, and Owyn," she adds, looking over her shoulder, "I love you."

  "I love you, too."

  I watch her go until she disappears around the bend, the enormous city swallowing her up like some kind of creature made from stone. Then, not wanting to idle away the evening, I set out to secure supplies for our trip, making my way to the city's provisioner.

  As I walk, my mind strays to the events that occurred earlier in the afternoon, to the dead villagers and the burning buildings, to the demons that had been turned to ash...

  The memory of the explosion disturbs me, far more than I would ever admit to Zara. The blinding flash of red light enveloped me and my horse, consumed us, and for a time I was not sure whether I was living or dead. Then, after everything cleared, the demons had been destroyed, transformed into pillars of dust that crumbled when the slightest breeze hit them.

  A shiver tingles my spine at the memory. Eleven Hells, that was so strange... I've never seen anything like it. And the wounds on Zara's hand... she had to have been in much more pain than she led on.

  That simple fact disturbs me more than anything else. It still does.

  What will that mean for us when we create an even bigger bomb?

  My thoughts swirl about my head like the winter snows that no longer exist in the kingdom. In fact, without the Arc, the weather seems to have reverted back to summer. If not for the constant layer of dark clouds that choke the skies, the sun would probably be baking us all like an oven.

  By the time I reach the provisioner's office near the palace, night has completely fallen, shrouding the city in darkness. Even so, the gaudy building is well-lit and surrounding by an ever-present retinue of guards.

  They recognize my ranger cloak as I approach and allow me to enter without any hassle, holding the door open for me to walk inside the main hall. A servant materializes from out of a side room and leads me deeper into the mansion, eventually taking me to a large dining hall where a large man sits alone, eating a feast.

  He glances up at me in annoyance as I enter, grease staining his chin as he tears at a chicken leg with his teeth.

  "And who in the Hells are you?" The provisioner asks, continuing to eat his meal without offering for me to have a seat.

  "Owyn Lund, ranger and close associate to the Nightingale Protector," I reply, resisting the urge to curl my lip in disgust at the fat man. People are starving, the city is rationing food, and this man sits and feasts as if it is his due. I guess that's one of the perks of being in charge of the city's granaries.

  The Provisioner sets down the chicken bone and lets out a small burp before turning in his chair to fully face me. The wooden seat groans in protest under his weight. "And what can I do for you, Owyn Lund?" There is little warmth in his voice.

  "I need to commission supplies for an expedition. Horses, food, and provisions for about twenty people. I have a writ from the Nightingales."

  He fixes me with a beady-eyed look of contempt. Then, the corner of his mouth turns up into a smirk. "A writ from the Nightingales, you say? How very official of them to send me a writ."

  I struggle to keep my temper in check. "Yes," I reply through gritted teeth. "This comes straight from the Protector, General Mohr, and the Circle of Mages."

  The smirk remains on his flabby face and he continues with his meal. "Rebels and traitors, all. The king is dead, young ranger, and the city has broken down into factions. I’ll not bow to the whims of those who threw this whole kingdom into chaos. I’m in charge of all the city’s food. That means
, once people grow desperate, I’ll become the richest man in Tarsynium. So, take your writ and clean out your chamber pot with it – that’s how much it is worth...”

  He trails off as I approach him, my hand darting down to my father's hatchet. His eyes widen, and for a moment, it looks like they are going to pop out of his face. "Guards! Help! This man is–"

  He cuts off as I slam the head of my hatchet into the table in front of him, the blade biting deep into the finely polished wood. The silverware on the table rattles with the force of the blow, and the blood drains from his complexion almost immediately, leaving him as white as a sheet.

  "I don't have time for your games, provisioner," I growl, dropping my voice to a dangerously low volume and leaning in to face him. "In case you haven't heard, an army is marching on the city as we speak. We're all doomed unless the mages and I can complete our mission. In order to do that, we need supplies. Now, I guarantee that the Protector and the General will have no qualms if I have to hurt you to complete this mission, but I would prefer not to do that. However, know this: I will do what I must in order to save this kingdom, and nobody is going to stand in my way."

  The provisioner gulps loudly, his eyes still bulging as he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small wooden token.

  "What's this?" I ask, voice still menacing.

  "A permission chit," he explains, setting the token on the table in front of him. "It will allow you to take whatever you need from the granaries, no questions asked."

  I eye the bit of wood of a few seconds, then reach over and pull my hatchet out of the table. The provisioner yelps frightfully at the noise it makes wrenching free. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" I mutter, sliding the hatchet into my belt loop. “By the way, you may want to rethink your logic. When the people grow desperate, they’ll storm your home and kill you – not pay for the food your hoarding.” Then, I pause as a new thought strikes me. “On second thought, do what you want. Having you as an enemy may get the people of this city to finally unite.”

  With that, I proceed to scoop up the chit and walk out of the dining room without a second glance.

  As I leave, I can hear the fat provisioner let out a shuddering, if not relieved, breath.

  BY THE TIME I RETURN to the Academy, it is already well into night. The clouds obscure the moon and the stars, and it is somehow darker outside than any other night I have ever experienced.

  Dark times indeed, I think to myself as I make my way doggedly up the stairs to my temporary dorm room.

  I had managed to secure enough food and drink to keep us well supplied for our expedition into the wastes, both for the ride there and the journey back. In addition to ordering the supplies I also managed to send a runner to the royal stables, conscripting twenty mounts and half as many pack horses to carry our supplies. With any luck, Zara will be able to speak with the Conclave and get us enough mages to ride those animals.

  When I finally reach the door to my room, I am exhausted. The fighting from earlier, as well as my efforts running around the city, have left me wearied, and I find myself looking forward to crashing onto my bed and falling asleep as soon as possible.

  However, when I push open the door, I find that my bedroom has been occupied.

  Talon sits with his feet up on the room's writing desk, a skin of wine held in his only hand and his head drooping down to his chest in sleep. The sound of the door opening jolts him awake, and he blinks bleary eyes in my direction, obviously trying to remember where he is.

  "Good evening, mate," he says, words slurring ever so slightly. "You have a nice stroll through the city?"

  I make my way inside and close the door behind me, removing my cloak and kicking the boots from off my feet. "Nice enough," I reply gruffly, annoyed at the intrusion.

  "Such a lovely night," he mumbles, bringing the wine skin up to his lips and taking a drink. "Not many of those left in the world, I think."

  Walking over to the bed, I sit down heavily on the mattress and rest back on my elbows, staring across the room at Talon. "It's late, you know," I prod, trying to get him to take a hint. "Going to have an early morning tomorrow."

  He takes another swig of wine and shifts in the chair to face me. "What, it's not like you're going to be leaving the city tomorrow, right? If that were the case, you'd probably be worried sick that it would be for the last time."

  I barely manage to hide my grimace. "You heard about that, did you?"

  "The whole bloody Academy is practically buzzing with it," he replies bitterly, lifting the skin to take another drink. When he realizes it is empty, he grunts and tosses it to the floor. "The mages are leaving tomorrow," he says in a high-pitched voice, as if imitating someone. "Light be with them all. They're heroes, every last one." The word 'heroes' he says with a sneer.

  I do not respond, instead staring quietly back at him from my place on the bed.

  Talon eyes me for a moment before continuing. "Why didn't you tell me, mate? Why did I have to hear that you were leaving tomorrow from a bunch of sculleries here at the Academy?"

  Keeping my face neutral, I shrug. "I was busy. Didn't think about it at the time."

  He looks at me for a long moment before smirking, letting out a sad chuckle and shaking his head. "Hells, mate. And I thought we were friends."

  "We are friends."

  "Are we?" His face suddenly flushes with anger and he raises his voice to almost a shout. "It's always Zara this and duty that with you. Never stop to think about poor old crippled Talon and what he might be feeling. Why do you get to be the hero? Why do you get to go on a quest to save the world? Of all the injustices in the world, I never thought I'd get the shaft from my own best friend."

  I blink in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the outburst. Eleven Hells, I think to myself. I had no idea that he felt this way.

  "Talon," I begin, trying to sound as gentle as possible, "all of this has happened so fast. I didn't think to invite you along because–"

  "Because why?" He interrupts sharply. "Because I'd just be a liability?" He holds up his missing hand.

  "No," I reply, shaking my head emphatically. "It's because you're needed here. Elias will need every soldier he can get to defend the city, and we need to keep our group small enough so as to avoid detection."

  He harrumphs and settles back in his seat, expression still dour. "Bloody good I'll do here with one hand. Maybe I'll find use on the front line as a human shield."

  I grunt. "Now you're just talking rubbish."

  "Am I?" He asks, voice full of uncharacteristic scorn. He must have had more wine than what was in that skin. "I can't fight worth a damn anymore. I'm officially a ranger, but that doesn't mean anything. My own best friend doesn't even want me to come with him on his quest."

  "Listen, Talon," I reply, starting to get frustrated. "This isn't my quest. Hells, this doesn't have anything to do with me. It has everything to do with Zara. She's the one who is going to pull us out of this mess, and where she goes, I go. It's as simple as that. You can either accept that, or you can sit around, drinking yourself silly and feeling sorry for yourself."

  I'm surprised by the heat that enters my voice, and by the looks of it, Talon is as well. His mouth drops open, and for a moment, he looks totally astounded. Then, curiously, the corner of his mouth goes up to form a wry smile.

  He heaves a breath. "You're probably right – except about the drinking myself silly part. I tend to do that regardless of the situation."

  A smile spreads across my face as well. "Talon, aside from Zara you are my closest friend in the world. You know I'd do anything for you."

  He nods and runs his hand through his unruly black hair. "Yeah... I know that, mate."

  "And besides," I add, a touch of somberness entering my voice, "you'll probably be glad that you're staying behind. I saw what that spell of hers did. If we succeed... well, everyone here will be safe. As for us..." I trail off, letting the thought hang in the air.

  Talon eyes me for a momen
t, then lets out a boisterous guffaw. "Hells, mate. You put me to shame when it comes to being dark and gloomy."

  He pushes himself to his feet and staggers over to me, and I get up as well. We embrace like brothers.

  "I'm... I'm sorry for acting like an idiot," he says, voice smelling strongly of wine.

  "It's alright," I reply dryly. "I'm used to it."

  He releases me and makes his way to the door. Before leaving, he looks over his shoulder at me. "You take care of yourself out there, alright? And look after that mage you’re so fond of."

  I nod, giving him a small smile. "Of course. And you as well."

  Hiccupping, he pulls the door shut behind him, leaving me alone in my room. As I extinguish the oil lamp and lay down to fall asleep, I can't help but think that this may have just been our last meeting.

  When sleep finally does find me, it comes with familiar nightmares of demons.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zara

  "It's a good thing you came to me when you did, Seeker. Infection would have set in these wounds if you would have waited any longer."

  The old nurse turns away from me and begins rummaging through her cupboards, muttering to herself in an entirely disapproving way.

  Sitting on a stool in the Academy's infirmary, I cradle my torn and bloody hand and mentally go over the events of the day. The spell actually worked, I think to myself, recalling the violent explosion and the demons which had been turned to dust. There is hope. Now, all I need to do is recalibrate the spell, expand it, so that it will work on an even greater scale.

  The nurse returns with bandages and a little black jar, which emits a foul smell as soon as she uncorks it. These she sets down on the table beside us, then picks up a pair of steel tweezers with needle-nosed tips.

  I wince as she inspects the lacerations with a practiced eye, plucking out bits of source crystal embedded in the skin. When she starts applying antiseptic, though, it is all I can do not to cry out in pain. The solution bubbles in the cuts, stinging painfully as it works its way into the broken skin. Once all of the medication has been applied, she begins wrapping the hand with the white bandages, completely covering the palm but leaving my fingers visible.