Journey of Darkness

by Samantha Jacobey

  “No, you won’t.” The bald man stepped forward, tapping his lacky on the shoulder, waving him off. “Sirens are deemed lesser beings by the laws governing magical creatures. They’re like fairies. You can trap and trade as many as you like in Whitefair.”

  “Well, this one doesn’t belong to you,” Reynard bellowed. “You broke into my friend’s house, and you stole her!”

  “Is that right? Well, since she didn’t come through the gate, that makes her illegal cargo. We consider her confiscated,” he informed the younger man, poking him in the chest. “Beat it before I have you arrested,” he stated calmly, cutting his eyes over at Bally as he leveled the threat. “The whole lot of you.”

  Grabbing his arm, the Mate pulled him back. “Come on, Rey. There’s too many of them to take on here.”

  Jerking himself free, Reynard turned his back on him, squaring his shoulders as he walked towards his friend. When he reached him, he leaned in close. “You ready to fight?”

  “No, mate,” Bally replied. “Piers says when we cross blades with these bastards.”

  “Bah!” Rey kicked at the sand as the older man joined them.

  “Don’t be too upset, son. The fight will come, I assure you.” His eyes roving over the crowd, he searched. “Where the devil did that woman go?”

  “What woman?” Rey clipped.

  “Meena. She brought some long staff with her, plenty pissed I might add. Apparently, she and Geoffrey aren’t the best of friends,” he chuckled, noticing that several of the men carried similar wooden poles. “What do you suppose they’re for?”

  “I have no idea,” Rey fumed, his arms flailing as he paced back and forth, making sharp turns every four to five feet.

  Rolling his eyes at his surliness, the first mate turned away, searching for a place he could reach out to the girl. Spying a stack of crates, he sauntered over and leaned against the wall behind them, enjoying the shade as well as the solitude. “Ami.”

  “Piers?”

  “Aye, it’s me,” he chuckled, amazed he had reached her so easily. “Are we set to leave?”

  “Yes. Everything is packed. Animir got some hides for us, so we will need some help carrying them, but otherwise, we are set.”

  “Hides? What sort of hides?” he asked in surprise, then thought better of it. “You know what, never mind. Just be ready. If this goes down the way I fear that it might, we may be running all the way to the gate.”

  Breaking off the connection, he rejoined the other two men. “They have everything ready, but they are going to need some help carrying part of it. Something Animir secured for us. I’m not sure what.”

  “Ok, so what about Oldrilin?” Rey asked in a calmer tone.

  “I’m working on that,” Piers replied with a chuckle, spying Meena on the far side of the courtyard, near the stage. “What the hell?” When she made eye contact, he could tell she was up to something.

  “Do you think you guys can make it back over the wall?” he asked in a hushed voice, while never taking his eyes off of her.

  “Now? Won’t someone see us?” Bally asked, perplexed that they would attempt such a thing.

  “Ah, well,” the Mate shrugged. “If she does what I think she’s going to do, no one’s really going to care.”

  “You know what she’s got planned?” Rey gasped, fear twisting his gut.

  “No, but remember what she said about being a wielder of magic and always having to hide it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I think she’s about to educate them.”

  “No shit.”

  “No shit,” the Mate chuckled. “I think you two should get back to the others. Take everything you can carry and get over the wall. Wait for us at the cave, with the litters.”

  “Aye, Mate,” Rey agreed, pushing his friend by the arm to get him moving.

  Working his way through the crowd, Piers inched towards her, still watching for her next move. On the stage, a variety of small creatures were brought out and sold to the highest bidder. Rage roiled in his gut at the inhumane way they were treated.

  “And now we have desert fairies,” the auctioneer called, holding up a clear wine flask filled with tiny bodies flinging themselves against the walls.

  “Oh man,” he breathed. Twenty more feet, he reminded himself. Keep moving. Desert fairies are not what we came for.

  Listening to the bidding, he kept on. At fifteen feet, she turned and looked at him. Giving her a quick smile and a nod, he kept moving.

  Her face stoic, she held her frown firmly. Shifting her gaze back to the stage, she gripped her staff with both hands, choking it between them. She had never used the device publicly. Truth be known, it had belonged to her husband, but now it was hers, and she knew how to use it.

  Peeking again, she found Piers only a few feet away. Waiting, she made no move towards him. “Nice to see you made it,” she said with a small laugh when he joined her.

  “I had to take care of the boys,” he informed her, putting his back to the wall beside her and sweeping the crowd. “What’s the plan?”

  “When I grab the siren, you get up there beside me. We’ll only get one shot at this, and I’ve never done it with three. Actually, I’ve only ever done it alone, but there’s a first time for everything,” she laughed again.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked anxiously.

  “It’s called a transposition,” she replied, turning so that she faced him and could speak in a softer voice. “Basically, I’m going to –”

  “Transport us somewhere,” he finished for her, not liking the sound of that one bit. “What are our other options?”

  “There are none,” she sighed, shaking her head. “If they get her off that stage, we’ll never see her again.”

  “Damn,” he muttered, not daring to ask what would happen if she failed to pull off her little magic trick. “Then we’ll hope you make it. The others are going back over the wall, to the place where we hid the rest of our gear. How far does that trick work?”

  “Not far,” she confessed, studying his masculine features. “I have an idea. I have my orb. If I can see the place they’re going, maybe I can target it for the transposition.”

  “Where were we going?”

  “My home. It’s a place that I know, and it’s within range. But if we go there, we still have to get away and out of the city,” she lamented.

  “Then let’s try for the boulders. What do you need from me?”

  Pulling the golden sphere from beneath her robe, she shook it slightly towards him. “Hold it with me and close your eyes. Picture the place you speak of,” she instructed.

  Closing his eyes as he laid his hand over hers, the tips of his fingers brushed the smooth surface. Envisioning his party there at the cave, waiting for them, he exhaled in a loud sigh.

  “Is this it?” she asked anxiously.

  Cracking his lids, he looked down at the image between their fingers, grinning. “Aye. Exactly as we left them.”

  “Ok, I will try for it,” she decided firmly. “Now we wait for your friend.”

  Unfortunately, the wait was long, and several other creatures were presented and bargained for, each tearing at Piers’s gut in their pitiful state. “I can’t believe they are treated this way,” he whispered, sliding his arm around her waist as he leaned closer to converse.

  “I don’t come down here. It’s deplorable,” she agreed.

  “So, tell me this. Why is Whitefair even here? A collection of scum in the middle of the desert.”

  “Like I said, it once was a beautiful place. The center of the desert. Caretakers of the springs that give life in the middle of nowhere. There are wizard communities to the east along the mountains and west on the fringes of the sand to the sea, and they would pass through here on their journeys from side to side,” she explained, happy for the distraction from the cruelty before them.

  “And you were raised here,” he recalled.

  “I was,” she agreed. “My
father was a merchant, who sold antiquities in the square.”

  “I’m sure you miss them,” he observed. “You do not see them often, or have they passed?”

  “They are gone. I have no family, as my brother took his wife and children to Mopea, which is a township to the east, when Gwirwen came to power and everything changed,” she explained. “I have not seen them in near twenty years.”

  “Exactly how long has this fellow been the Supreme Dragon?” he asked, his brow furrowed. The change in the throne seemed to have brought disruption across the land, as several had mentioned it as of late.

  “Seventeen years,” she supplied. “It was sudden. No one expected it, but when it happened, word spread quickly. Many tested the limits, and Whitefair fell into chaos. Some say that he prefers it this way, as it restricts travel between the communities.”

  “That’s too bad, isolating people,” he observed, catching a glimpse of a small form being marched up to the stage. “Shit, that’s her, poor thing!”

  Her face drawn, she nodded. Oldrilin wore large cuffs around her wrists with a chain dangling between them. Her lip stuck out in a heavy pout, her eye and face bruised from being struck.

  Tightening his grip on his sword, the rage boiled in Piers’s eyes.

  “Don’t,” Meena warned.

  “I want to kill them,” he hissed. “They’re barbarians. They don’t deserve to stand here, breathing our air.”

  “We haven’t come for that,” she warned. “If you attack them, our chances of getting away will be destroyed. Is that what you want? To leave your friends without you to help them make it home?”

  She knew exactly how to reach him, as the thought of leaving the others to their own means snapped him out of his rage. “You’re right,” he agreed, blinking a few times. “How do we get her?”

  “Follow me close,” she commanded, pushing her way to the steps of the platform as the bidding commenced. Marching up them, her robe flowed around her. “Unhand her,” she bellowed, brandishing her staff in warning.

  A tall man held the end of the rope, which had been tied around Lin’s neck. Yanking it, as if she were a dog, he pulled her back with him as he moved away. “This here is my siren to sell!” he declared loudly.

  “Not anymore,” the Mate growled, pulling his sword out as he marched past Meena and removing the man’s head with a single swing. The lifeless eyes wide, it fell in slow motion, landing on the stage with a thud and rolling so that the empty orbs stared up at him. Coughing, Piers stood frozen for an instant before Oldrilin screamed, grabbing at his legs in joy twisted with fear.

  Scooping her up with his free arm, he swung around as Geoffrey and a few of his friends came up the stairs, while others leapt up onto the short platform. Moving up behind Meena, he shouted, “Do it now!”

  Instead, she stood tall, her hood falling from her head as she raised her arms, lifting her staff straight in front of her. Bringing it down with a pounding motion, as if to drive a hole into the stage, she screamed, “AayA!”

  A bright flash of light followed, white streaks shooting from the tip that bolted out in all directions. A wave of energy, the men who were on the stage flew off, propelled back by the blast, with those in the courtyard knocked to the ground. The place flattened, as if a cannon had been leveled at them, their movements were slow as they recovered.

  Rolling over to his belly, Geoffrey glared at Meena. “You wretched whore,” he bellowed. “What right have you to use a staff against us?”

  “I have every right,” she screamed back. “Wan I was born, but I have been gifted with the power. Do not follow, or you will die.”

  Turning, she claimed the Mate in an embraced in the same motion transporting the three of them to the place where they had hidden their gear, leaving the crowd in the market bewildered at what had taken place.

  Arriving in a puff of smoke, they found the others gathered against the rock, sitting out of sight and waiting for their arrival. Not expecting it to be so spectacular, the gathering screamed in surprise, then recognized the trio an instant later and breathed heavily as they recovered from the shock.

  Dropping onto the sand next to them, Piers gasped for air. “That was amazing!” he panted.

  “Yes, quite fun, actually,” Meena chuckled softly, taking a knee beside him. “Do you think they will come after us?”

  “Only if they wish to die,” he laughed. “You told them you would kill them.”

  “Yes, I might have exaggerated that part,” she confessed, her eyes darting around nervously as she caught her hair around her face from blowing in the wind and smoothed it.

  “Are we leaving?” Rey asked, glaring at the chains on his small friend. “We need to get these off of her.”

  “We can remove them,” Animir offered, holding Baldwin’s axe. “Lay the chain here,” he instructed, pointing at the rock.

  “Don’t!” Meena intervened. Kneeling before her small friend, she held her staff between them while whispering a few words. Popping open, the shackles fell from her wrists, and the chains clinked as they hit the ground.

  “Amazing,” Rey breathed, lifting Oldrilin to comfort her against his chest.

  “Aye, she’s a right talented wan,” Piers agreed, then informed him, “and no we aren’t leaving yet.” Looking around at the others huddled there against the rocks, their gear had been stacked on the litters, ready to go. “They’ll see us for sure. We’ll hide here until nightfall and then make our way out, east for a few hours before we turn north. Too many of them have heard us say that we are headed that way not to cover our path at least some.”

  “They know where we hid our packs,” Rey pointed out, indicating the stacks of supplies.

  “If they come, they will die,” the Mate insisted through gritted teeth. “Meena may not have been serious about killing them, but I won’t hesitate.”

  “I saw,” the older woman laughed, thinking of the beheaded man. “You are good with a blade.”

  “Aye,” he agreed, grinning at her like a kid. “I –”

  Cut off, Geoffrey leapt over the rock and landed between them, knocking them away from each other as he swung his sword wildly. On their feet, Bally and Rey joined the fight as the interloper had brought five friends to help him reclaim his prize.

  Hiding under the edge of the rock, Amicia cradled Oldrilin under her arm. Covering her ear, she soothed, “Shh, shh, it’s ok. They won’t hurt you anymore.” Thinking of her bow and quiver of arrows, she wondered if she shouldn’t join the fight.

  Not waiting to ponder the sanity of it, Zaendra grabbed the spear the Mate had formed for her that very day, running past him and impaling one of the men through the chest. Dropping the handle, she screamed, falling to her knees and joining the other two girls in their hiding place.

  Outside, the metal clanged loudly when it collided. This wasn’t a play match, and the adrenaline coursed through Baldwin’s veins as a burly man traded blows with him. Holding his sword with both hands, he swung it precisely, blocking and dodging as he forced the scoundrel away from the rock that sheltered his friends. His confidence stronger, he grinned, pressing the fight.

  Next to him, Rey used his own to swing and stab his aggressor, his teeth clenched tightly in a fierce growl. “You bastards,” he seethed, landing a jab that sent blood dribbling across the sand.

  Leaping onto one of the rocks, Animir drew his bow, releasing an arrow that caught one of the men trying to drag Meena away through the heart. Falling to his knees, the arrow broke off, shattering with a loud snap. Free of him, she swung her staff at Geoffrey, the second man, growling angrily as she did so. “I’ve so longed for this day.”

  “Save the arrows!” Piers commanded. “Grab the axe.”

  Dropping his bow, the elf obeyed, scooping it up by its long handle and bringing it down with a crack against Geoffrey’s skull, splitting it so that thick blood splattered. Catching some of the goo on her face, Meena screamed in horrified surprise. “Oh, dear God!”
r />   “Fight or get down!” Piers snapped.

  On her knees, she slid under the large stone, her hands shaking as she wiped at her face.

  “It’s ok,” Amicia soothed, holding her hand as the sounds outside grew disturbing. Outnumbered, the three men begged for their lives as they were hacked and chopped by the swords and axe until no sound remained.

  Blood of the Wicked

  “Oh, dear God,” Meena breathed, rocking back and forth as she knelt in the sand. Her face splattered and smeared, she stared at her blood-stained hands. “Piers,” she breathed, hardly above a whisper.

  “I’m here, love,” he replied, kneeling beside her, his arm tenderly draped across her back.

  “I need water,” she croaked.

  “Yes, I think we may have some,” he agreed, turning to their packed gear.

  “The waterskins are empty,” Rey informed him in a shaky voice. “We have no water.”

  “I have the water stone,” Meena recalled aloud. “It took all that I had to acquire it,” she informed them, still glaring at her fingers. “I have blood on my hands.”

  “The blood of the wicked,” the Mate growled. “Pay it no mind. Where’s the stone, love? And how do we use it?”

  “Inside my robe. Open it and you will find it in the pouch. Ami, can you fetch it, my child?” the older woman begged, cutting her brown orbs up at her, her face still downturned.

  In silent agreement, Amicia pulled at the rope that held her robe, freeing the material. The bag hanging at her waist, she used two fingers, working them inside the mouth and widening the gap. Digging for it, she pulled out the golden sphere, which sparkled in the bright light. “That’s not it,” she mumbled, dropping it on the ground. Pulling out a smaller, smooth blue stone, a smile flickered across her lips. “How do we use it?” she repeated the question.

  “We need a receptacle. Something to hold the water,” Meena explained, her voice stronger. Her hands clenched into fists, she tried to ignore their soiled state.

  “Use the cookpot,” Animir suggested, loosening the ropes on one of the litters to retrieve it.