The Darkness Within (A Lythinall Novel) (Book 2)

by Michael Nadeau

  "I'm fine High General, I can perform my duties that have been assigned." He worked out the pain in his shoulder, and thought about his dream once more. He had always dreamed of becoming a knight. His mother, before she had died, had told him stories about the father he had never known. A knight pledged to the King of Lythinall, that had gone away on a mission and died in service to the land. He thought she was just making it all up, to make him feel like he was special, until she had died and he had found a nameless journal. The journal was vague, but definitely from the hand of a knight. That's where he had found the pledge, and he had memorized it over time. "Shall we continue?"

  Carana sighed and readied her stance once more. Carana was easily six feet tall with short dirty blond hair. It matched well with her sun darkened skin and brown eyes, but even these features paled in comparison to her physique. The women was built slender, but had packed that slender frame with every ounce of muscle. "This time, try coming at me with the shield first." She advised, circling slowly now. "Bash my weapon aside then thrust." She purposefully left her sword out in front, like most knights did, even though her reflexes were screaming to pull it in a bit and to the side.

  She had started training this young boy a tenday ago, and already he was catching up to the first year knights, which probably was why they we're after him. He had said he was homeless, but he must've been practicing everyday to be in this kind of shape. At only fifteen winters he was lean, but the practice armor wasn't really slowing his footwork down, neither was the weighted practice sword. He may be able to join field tests in another couple of days.

  He came at her with his shield raised slightly, but his eyes darted to her left real quick before he bashed the sword she was holding. Then she heard the scrape of a foot behind them. She read his eyes and foot placement and let him bash the sword out wide, then she circled to the left carefully holding her smile. When he thrust his sword, he smiled slightly, and then she knew what was coming. You didn't get to live for well over a century and not pick up a few tricks here and there. She quickly sidestepped the way she came, back to the right, and his sword went harmlessly by, and thudded into the boy sneaking up on her from behind.

  "Ooff!" Tomas doubled over as the weighted practice sword went into his midsection with the full thrust from Lan. He slowly fell to his knees, the wooden club he was holding falling from his hands that were holding his stomach instead.

  Lan's eyes went wide, then he remembered his opponent. Too late. His shield arm was kicked out wide, just like the move he was trying to do to her sword, and her kick came inside faster than he could see. His practice armor took almost none of the blow, partially because it was designed to protect from slashes and cuts, not pure force. He folded in two and rolled for at least ten feet before coming to a stop. His air was gone from his lungs, but he was still trying to gulp for air.

  "If an opponent can't stand, they can't fight, If an opponent can't breathe, they can't fight. Now boys what did we learn today?" She was trying not to laugh, but it was very hard with these kids. They had a determination that astounded her, and that was rare. Tomas recovered first.

  He was a big boy, at over five feet and one-hundred and fifty stones, at only eleven winters, and growing fast. He usually favored the hammer like the one that had been in his hands early in his life, as the son of a blacksmith. "I'm sorry mistress Carana."

  "General." Her gaze was hard. She hated that 'Mistress' stuff.

  "Sorry, General Carana." He shuffled his feet, feeling embarrassed. "I just thought that I'd try and help out Lan." He smiled weakly, hoping that she wasn't too angry.

  Lan got to one knee, finally breathing again. "General, my apologies, that wasn't very knightly of me, and I will accept the consequences." He stared at the floor, waiting for the harsh words of finality that would end his dream.

  "Oh for Davalar's sake you're only children. Get up, the both of you." Carana walked over and placed her practice sword on the rack. "You're not expected to abandon all your emotions, nor are you to be expected to never have a mischievous thought. The purpose in this training is to get you ready for what you will be doing in the name of the King." She turned and saw their incredulous expressions, and almost laughed out loud. Clamping down on her mirth at the boys in front of her, she put on her stern face and walked slowly towards them. "However, you will be expected to keep all playfulness to your off hours, because once you are in the field, those actions can get you killed or worse."

  "What could be worse than being killed?" Tomas wasn't going to ask, but the thought of something worse was raising his anxiety. He may be a quiet boy, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious.

  "Worse? What could be worse is your foolhardy fun may well get someone else killed and then you have to live with that for the rest of your life." She saw the realization set in, more in Tomas than Lan. He already seemed to know that by his crestfallen look. "All right let's not dwell on that right now. Tomas, it isn't time for your training, so what brings you here?" She was training most of the new Messengers, all except Sprout. She had some growing yet to do.

  "I'm here to take Griff's place this morning Mistr....uh General." He caught himself before upsetting her again. "He's still with Priest Ralavin, and might be until well after high sun." He waited before going over to the armor rack, in case Carana dismissed him.

  "That's fine, I'll catch him tonight. Get ready and pick out a weapon, I'll be with you in a moment." She turned and walked with Lan as he started to take off his practice armor. "Lan, you're doing good, but there is one thing you need to work on."

  "What is that General?" He knew he was far from perfect, but this was the first time she had said anything. He wasn't nervous per se, but............

  "You need to be a little easier on yourself." She saw his frown, not understanding her criticism, "Listen, you have been living on the streets ever since your mother passed, and who knows how long ago that was. No don't answer, that's not the point. The point is that, you don't have to walk in here and prove to Arian that you're knight material in a tenday." She took a deep breath and turned him so that she could look right into his eyes. She needed him to really listen to this, she had seen too many young knights get killed like this. "You have already impressed him, trust me. Do you think he would have the High General of Everknight train a bunch of kids if he didn't think you had something special?"

  "I know, It's just..." He looked aside, not wanting to bare his soul to those deep brown eyes. "It's just I've always wanted this, and now it's so close. I just don't want to fail." There. He said it.

  It had been in his mind for the last tenday, ever since he started training with her, and getting thrown around like a rag doll. Failure was his greatest foe. He pulled out of her grasp, and placed his armor upon the stand, keeping his back to her so she couldn't see face.

  Carana placed her hand on his shoulder, knowing just how he felt. When Davalar had chosen her to be his Incarnation she had feared that she would fail, but she couldn't exactly tell that to the boy. "I understand Lan, just know that I think you're doing fine, and in a couple of years, you are going to be one of the best. You just have to live that long." She walked away, giving him some time to compose himself before leaving the training room. "Ok Tomas; No you've got the armor on wrong. Here let me show you..."

  Lan straightened his shoulders a little and left feeling as little better. He could do this, he just had to keep at it. He walked down the hallway with a spring in his step that he didn't realize was there. He was so intent on feeling better that he never saw the Knight staring at him from the distant corner with a scowl on his face.

  Davalar's Temple, Castle Everknight

  Ralavin looked again at the boy and was pleased at the recovery he had shown. Rythal had had many broken bones, his collar bone, arms, and his right leg. He had healed, physically at least, and in the last tenday he had gotten a lot of rest. Mentally though, he was a mess. No that was an understatement. More like his mind had been tossed int
o barrel and kicked down a long hill. What he had seen had blasted his reason to a far corner of his mind, and there was no map.

  Rythal was fourteen years old, with sparkling blond hair and golden eyes, but the energy he used to have had gone out of him after the incident at Daelyn. He had lost his twin brother Innal to the Incarnation of Death, and had been stuck like this ever since. Ralavin hadn't given up yet. "Griff, can you get me another cool cloth from the back?"

  "Yes sir." The young boy ran back and grabbed another cloth, soaking it in the bucket that had the big block of ice. "Is he fevering up again sir?" He called from the back. He had been helping with the healing of the refugee's, mainly the former Companions of Everknight. He was still in awe at meeting these larger than life heroes.

  "No Griff, but I want to try something else to reach his mind." He had tried simple methods, now it was time to involve his prayers. Most of his time was spent healing physical wounds, this was more Lady Caerlyn's bailiwick, but he wasn't without knowledge of it.

  "He told me to save you." Rythal had only spoken those words since he had been found in Daelyn, and no others.

  "I know Rythal, now let's see if I can See in there and find out what's stuck." He took the cool cloth from Griff and draped in around the boys neck. Griff smiled and Ralavin couldn't help but feel at ease with his young student. He was all but 14 winters, and his freckled face always had a smile. It matched his wavy red hair and green eyes "Now hold his arms; Like this." He waited until Griff had a good grip then started chanting quietly. He called upon Davalar to help penetrate this darkness and to reveal what was in the boys shattered mind. He felt the power build then he channeled it into the boy ever so slightly. Just a little farther....... The concussion of the blast threw both of them like a child's doll in a windstorm.

  Griff couldn't hear anything except a ringing in his ears, and his sight wasn't much better. He was in the back room, sitting in a puddle of very cold water, but his legs were not being very helpful at the moment, and his head wasn't in the mood to argue. He felt, more than saw, the blast that had thrown him off of the boy and back into the other room, and as his eyes started to focus he could see the boy still standing right there. Guards were piling into the Temple, with drawn swords, but couldn't see anything wrong. "Ral......" He couldn't make himself heard so he tried pointing instead, except his arms were on strike as well.

  He started to panic, his breath coming in short ragged bursts, then he remembered his training and took a deep breath and focused inward. Davalar, God of Life and Honor, bless me with your wisdom and power to heal these wounds so that I may serve you. He felt his hands grow warm, and tried to move them to his legs. He touched himself and felt his back tingle then crack in pain. Oh, that's why my legs weren't moving. It frightened him that he could do things like this, but after the last tenday of healing the wounded, he realized that it was truly a blessing. It scared him even more that his back was damaged that badly. He shook his head and put that thought out of his head for now

  "Wounded!" One of the guards called out as Griff stood on shaky legs. The man sheathed his sword and moved quickly to take his arm. Two others went towards Rythal, but were still cautious.

  "Ralavin is over there." Griff said weakly, trying to point. He went to Rythal as well, looking over the boy without touching him.

  "He told me to save you."

  "Yeah good job your doing of that." Griff was growing annoyed at this kid, broken mind or not. He walked around the boy, giving him a wide berth, and went to Ralavin as well.

  Ralavin was startled awake. He was sitting in the council meeting, nodding off again. He looked up to see what jostled him out of his slumber and saw that Trost, that meek scribe with the tiny glasses, was standing up and had changed almost completely. He was no longer cowering, but commanding, and then the flames grew around the room. Ralavin called quietly for Davalar to protect him, and then drew his ceremonial dagger. He shook his head as he slowly got to his feet, his old bones creaking at the sudden movement, he knew that this dagger was only for show, but his King needed him. Hells below, everyone in the room needed him by the looks of it. he gathered up his strength and ran for the scribe, putting everything he had behind his two-handed swing into the man's chest. Upon impact the flames overcame his wards and he felt himself burning with every breath........

  "NO!!" Ralavin sat up in a rush, fighting off the hands that were holding him, until he realized that he was in his temple. Just a dream. It's over, and I'm still alive. His thoughts were almost always on that fateful day. That day when Karsis had used his faerie vial to save him, and had brought him back from the brink of death. It helped that it had also given him his youth back as well. He was no longer the bent, broken old man of eighty winters. No, now he looked as if he were only twenty-some-odd winters, and with a physique that he almost didn't remember having. His long white hair was full and black once more, and he had cut it shoulder length just last week.

  "Priest Ralavin are you all right?" One of the guards was trying to help him up, not noticing that his leg was bent the wrong way.

  "Stop!" Griff rushed in and tried to stop the guard, but his partner pushed him back, thinking that the boy was trying something. "His leg! Don't move him!" Griff hated being small, and just wished for once he could push others around instead.

  "Oh Gods, Raeric look! Put him down." The guard that stopped Griff was pointing, and the other guard, Raeric, eased him down gently. It all happened so fast that Ralavin was still trying to figure out what was the matter. "Sorry Father, um Minister......uh." He was at a loss as to the head Priests proper title.

  "Priest Ralavin will do, it always has. It's ok, thank you gentleman." They sat him back down, and he looked at his leg curiously. That was some blast if I don't even remember that happening. What in the Hells did that anyway? He moved his fingers cautiously over his leg as he thought it over, and he came up with nothing. Griff was holding his hands on Ralavin's lower leg waiting for the signal, then Ralavin nodded and bit down hard on his shirt. Griff pulled hard, setting the bones and quickly inhaled, focusing his energies and calling to Davalar. Ralavin tried not to scream, but his muffled cries sounded in his ears against his wishes. Once the stars cleared from his watery eyes, he marveled at the boy. He had seen others try to heal like this, over the years, and while there may be only a few people that have their prayers answered, many more can still heal minor wounds without Davalar's blessing. This boy however, channeled the God with ease. He may even be better at it than Lady Caerlyn, and she was a master healer.

  "Done, how does it feel sir?" Griff slowly opened his eyes and saw Ralavin staring at him with his mouth open. "What?" Fear over took him. "Oh Gods! Did I not set it right? Is it crooked? Oh no please! Somebody help!" He tried to stand to go get the guards, who were already on their way back in at the commotion anyway.

  "Griff! stop, it's fine." Ralavin grabbed his leg as he tried to stand and pulled him back down. "Easy son. Guards, it's ok, we're fine." He laughed at Griff's expression and sat him back down.

  "It's nothing bad. Look. When I healed Gareth, that big man with all the broken ribs?" He waited for Griff to nod, and saw the boy was fighting back tears. "Well it took me, what, almost three hours to fix him up? Well Griff, you just healed my leg, that was fractured in at least three places, in about three minutes. Minutes." He let that really sink in, Gods, he was still trying to let it sink in his own mind.

  "So I didn't screw it up?"

  "No, far from it my young prodigy. Lady Caerlyn is going to have her hands full when you go to study with her." He got up, effortlessly, and stretched the leg. Minutes. He was almost jealous. "I taught you how to channel the power but I haven't really explained how it all works now have I...." He saw the boy try and work out an answer to the rhetorical question and kept going before he could. "Come over to the alter and sit, I'll try my best to give you the basics." He got up and walked over and flexed his leg once more, just for giggles.

  "First you
have to understand that there are two ways we classify healing, Soft heals and Hard heals. Soft heals are the easier wounds to heal and can be accomplished in minutes, especially if done cooperatively. Cuts, slashes, and stab wounds, even those that could be fatal, are called Soft heals."

  "Even when someone is dying?" Griff interrupted. He just couldn't believe they called that easy.

  Ralavin smirked at the question, not at all upset that this young man cut him off. He loved that he wanted to learn and not just glaze over like some of his other students over the years. He couldn't remember the last student that was this starved for answers.

  "Yes Griff, like when Sprout was dying and I had you help me, that was a Soft heal. It was her flesh and blood, specifically her heart that needed repair. Well that and a dozen other little things that you will learn later, but you will learn all that in time" He turned around, and looked up at the statute of Davalar as he continued. He remembered when he had this lesson from his instructor all those years ago, and he was just as inquisitive. "The only difference with Sprout was that we also had to coax her spirit back just a little bit, but that's another bucket of coins altogether." He held his hand up to forestall any questions on that subject, as that was a very long discussion, and he wasn't ready for that yet. "Hard heals are more solid, like bones and structure, and take quite some time to graft them back together again. It takes patience and endurance to heal someone with broken bones, taking sometimes two or three days of healing over hours and then letting the body rest."

  "So that's why you were shocked? Not because I did it wrong, but that I did it so quick?" Hearing Ralavin talk about how hard it was made him a little more worried about how he healed himself. What if I healed my back wrong, will I be crippled?! He slowed his thoughts and took a deep breath. He shouldn't panic, but he had to tell him.