A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  There was a sudden and threatening silence from the ranks of the Morlans behind me as Kylos shed Aenar’s cloak and stood before the man while he re-fastened his battle harness and loin armour and laced his boots. When he had fixed the last buckle of the archer’s shin guards and completed lacing the archer’s bracers Aenar pulled the young man into a fond embrace. The Morlans stopped their search of the dead and stood watching the pair for a few moments before studiously ignoring the display and returning to their task.

  Markos drew his sword and strode over to where the couple stood entwined. I went to intercept the prince but Dthor placed a restraining hand on my arm. “Wait, lad,” he counselled, “Wait.”

  “Explain yourself, Kylos. What is the meaning of this?” Markos demanded.

  The archer gave his brother a scathing look. “Do you wish that I should draw you a picture? It means I grow weary of pretence, brother. It means that I have come to love this man. I have loved him from first meeting and it means that if he will allow it I will lay with him.” He stared around at his assembled brothers-in-arms. “But if it will make you all feel any better about my intent, I will claim qum-shoq,” the archer replied. Behind him the company of Morlans left their looting of the bodies and to a man genuflected behind the pair. Markos walked up to Aenar and peered past him to the kneeling soldiers. “It appears they approve,” he said casually, “And as it happens, so do I,” he added and pressed his blade against the man’s chest with just enough pressure to draw blood.

  “Know this, Provost Aenar, son of Zetaria,” Markos said sternly, “it is better that you should pull this blade into your heart now than accept this pledge with a lie on your lips and falsehood in your heart.”

  “I accept the pledge in honour and in truth, in love and in trust.” Aenar responded.

  Kylos pressed his mouth to the bleeding wound and drank. “I drink from my brother and take his life to mix with my own.” He stepped back slightly from the veteran, pausing to wipe a stray drop of blood into his mouth.

  “When you fear I will be your courage. When you thirst I will be your water. When you hunger I will be your food. When you are cold I will warm you. When your path is dark I will light it. When you grieve I will be your tears and your comfort, and if you stumble I will catch you. If you fall I will bear you up and in the storm I will shelter you. When danger threatens you I shall be your shield and though I may be dead if you are fighting for your life I will return even from the Hall of Heroes to fight beside you.”

  Markos moved slightly and flicked his dagger across Kylos’ heart, holding it as he done to Aenar. “Know this, Kylos Ul-Veldoris, son of Morla, it is better that you should pull this blade into your heart now than accept this pledge with a lie on your lips and falsehood in your heart.”

  “I accept the pledge in honour and in truth, in love and in trust.” Kylos said quietly wincing slightly as Aenar pressed his lips to the wound on his chest and drank. “I drink from my brother and take his life to mix with my own.”

  He stood up staring deeply into Kylos’ dark green eyes. “I do not know the words of the oath you made me, Kylos, but all that you have pledged to me I now pledge to you. Your honour is my honour; your shame shall be as mine. There is no price I will not pay to keep you safe, and I swear that I will not let Death claim me while your life is in jeopardy.”

  Markos took the couple’s right hands and bound them loosely together with a strip of cloth torn from his cloak. He raised the dagger and shouted “Qum-shoq!”

  The Morlans shouted back and then leapt to their feet bearing the couple over to a nearby table where they proceeded to ply them with looted ale and anything else alcoholic they could lay hold of, and when the toasting of the pair was over the men returned to the task of organising our regroup in preparation for entering Delos all the while studiously ignoring the pair who had become locked in a rather passionate embrace.

  “Should I fetch a pail of water, Provost, or can you manage to unglue yourself from the lips of that Morlan bowman long enough to attend to your more official duties?” Dthor-Aid’n called from the cave entrance. “We need to have the horses brought in, and in case you have forgotten, young Thaze is lying injured out there in the cold.”

  Thaze’s wound closed just as easily as the others, and by morning he was as fully recovered from the injury as the rest of us. Kylos was the first to greet the cadet when he woke with warm thanks for rescuing his cloak and an even warmer tankard of Aarin’s brew.

  As we broke fast Dthor-Aid’n, Maegor and Aenar settled to discussing how we would best enter Delos in the event that there were black soldiers in residence. They had not been long in their discussions when Orrin appeared from the tunnel. It seemed we were already too late and that the town had been breached.

  “There are not many, Ez’n,” the assassin told me. “About a hundred men in all, but the Deloi are hard pressed to fight them. And there is a wizard—a thaumaturge I think for he is using lightning and fire.”

  “Not from his eyes, I would hazard.” I responded reflecting briefly on the Zendran ferryman.

  “No, my lord. From a stave.” Orrin smiled at me. “I think we could turn the tide of the battle but we should move swiftly.”

  “Gentlemen—to arms.”

  “My lord, before we set forth I have a token for you.” It was Ursus who spoke. The cavalier strode forward holding out a lamen fashioned from strips taken from both the Morlan and Zetan cloaks. “May these tokens afford you strength and protection in the coming battle, Lord Ez’n,” the veteran said and as he fastened the sash over my shoulder “We gathered them from those who fell by your hand; it is only fitting that you should wear the badges of your valour into battle.”

  Ursus raised his sword in salute to me. “T’pahq!” he cried out and the Morlan’s echoed the call.

  “Roughly translated?” Markos offered noting my bewilderment, “It means Beloved Commander. Praise indeed—they have never called me that and I have fought beside them since I was thirteen and at their head since I was sixteen!” he gave me a smile, “I told you Aenar’s actions would cause this.”

  “I still think it a pity that Ka . . .”

  “Please do not mention that coward’s name. He is forgotten to us and is never to be spoken of. Awakening even thought of him is offensive to us.”

  With that said we mounted up and set off down the siege tunnel riding in silence save for the guttering of the torches lining the passage and the rhythmic thud of the horses’ hooves on the rough dirt floor.

  Orrin was correct in his assessment of the fight. Despite the greater numbers the Deloi militia were rapidly losing ground to the Black Army. Unable to strike effectively at the invaders the Deloi were sustaining heavy losses.

  The stench of burning flesh hung heavy in the air as we rode out of the siege tunnel and into the main square. To our left the heavy wooden gates hung shattered to kindling on twisted hinges, the heavy forged portcullis lay as twisted blades of metal obviously destroyed by the wizard Vel called Gorgoth. At Dthor-Aid’n’s call we headed into the centre of the town towards the keep.

  The narrow street we were following opened out suddenly into a large square. I moved into the open, stepping back almost immediately as my foot slid in a pool of black slime. Dthor-Aid’n took my arm to steady me then pointed out across the square. Where there should have been pale grey flagstones there was a lake of smouldering black slime and piles of ash. Soldiers? Civilians? Suddenly I neither knew nor cared as a fearful coldness filled me. These animals would pay for their savagery to their very last breath.

  “Ez’n.” Maegor directed my attention across the square to where a cohort of Deloi hoplites was making a valiant but vain effort at holding back thirty Black Soldiers. Their weapons just could not gain purchase on the armour. A sudden thought struck me and I reached for the money pouch on my belt. “Tether the horses and prepare yourselves,” I told my men.

  Tipping out a handful of gold coins I threw them into the a
ir and swatted them with a broad, sweeping thought. The coins whistled through the air with the shrill screech of hunting falcons striking the enemy with such force that the armour shattered. Several of the men fell wounded by the coins embedded in their backs. Almost at once the Deloi seized their advantage joining with my guard as they attacked and fell upon their adversaries slaughtering them to a man.

  “Take their swords!” I shouted to the men as we reached them.

  “Mercy lord!” one of the men called back, but we cannot fight them. Their magic is too strong and their wizard is too powerful.”

  “Take me to this wizard.” I told him.

  Shouting to Dthor-Aid’n set off with the soldier who guided me through some narrow, winding slime-filled streets until we reached the parade ground outside the Keep. The castle gates were proving more of a problem for the soldiers whose blades shattered on contact. Another wizard perhaps? My escort assured me there was no magic user in the town apart from . . . “There!” he directed my attention to a catwalk some thirty cubits above the melee.

  Standing atop the battlements was a black clad mage wielding a glowing stave. Periodically he would loose bolts of lightning and shafts of fire into the fighters below him with deadly accuracy. He was flanked by two tall black clad soldiers with red plumed helmets. Commanders of some kind I guessed, and like as not magic users of some description if my experience with the previous crested officer was anything to go by.

  The sound of running feet behind me brought me around. My guard arrived with the cohort of Deloi we had found in the adjoining square.

  Markos’ dark eyes scanned the battlements coming to rest on the mage. He turned to me. “By your leave we will deal with these filth, T’pahq.” The prince told me. “It seems that your path is set for you.”

  “Indeed.” I answered.

  As I made to go Dthor-Aid’n caught my arm. “Take care, little dragon,” he said, “This Gorgoth seems a powerful foe.”

  “We shall see,” I answered, “We shall see how powerful he is without his staff. No!” I put my hand on the Captain’s chest, “Stay with the men. If I fall to this wizard they will need a commander. And if I fall to his magic, what chance will you have if you are with me? Stay with the men.”

  I reached the steps to the catwalk without any problem and crept slowly and carefully towards my quarry like a stalking cat. I had travelled half the length of the walkway when one of the wizard’s guards caught sight of me. Gorgoth glanced over to where I stood with my crystal blade glowing in the morning light and sneered at me. He said something to his guard that elicited a laugh and then the soldier began to stride towards me.

  He was on me almost before I realised and though I parried his first strike the blow knocked me to my knees. The soldier’s crystal blade came down on my chest biting into the flesh before coming up against my crest. The blade shattered with a sweet chime. The soldier staggered back as if thrown.

  My hand moved to Anubis’ crest. “Gold!” I said with a smile, “It can’t stand against gold.”

  Suddenly it became clear to me. The black army could not breach the gates of the Keep because they were decorated with gold leaf and though this Gorgoth was clearly powerful, most of his power came from the enchanted stave he held and not, like mine, from his personal stamina. He was a magic user and had no innate natural talent—he could not strike at two targets simultaneously with his stave and thus had to concentrate on focal attacks designed to reduce his forces’ opponents.

  The commander drew a conventional sword. “Mayhap, boy,” he snarled, “but you will not live to tell what you know.”

  I ducked under his strike thrusting my sword up between his legs burying the blade to the hilt. His screams drowned out the sounds of the battle below as the deadly blade reduced him to ash and black slime in moments leaving only his gold plated armour and sword. I had only just recovered myself with the second guard charged at me. His sword raised high over his head.

  He was almost on me when there was a shrill hiss and a dull thud. The man lurched sideways into the battlements and stood for a moment gaping in dull surprise at the gold fletched arrow protruding from his armpit. The sword dropped from his hand and fell with a light chime on the flagstones where it spat flames and sparks before it finally came to rest.

  “K’val T’pahq!” Kylos’ shout reached me from the square below. “Caution, Beloved Commander!”

  I gave the archer a wave before flexing my thoughts and sending the soldier screaming over the balustrade and into the ranks of the black soldiers below.

  “That was an exceptionally good shot!” Gorgoth shouted his tone sincerely congratulatory. “But it will be your last.” He narrowed his gaze focussing it on Kylos and raised his stave. Lightning began to crackle around the pale blue crystal at its head.

  A bolt of thought energy shot from me almost before I had time to formulate a plan and struck the stave sending the deadly shaft of lightning into the magician’s own ranks. A dozen of his men vanished in a crackling wall of fire and lightning. I drew my wand sending a blast of icy wind along the walkway. It struck the mage and knocked him off his feet.

  With surprising speed Gorgoth regained his balance and levelled his stave at me letting loose a shaft of flame I put up my hand and simply drew the fire in. My mind flexed again this time sending the mage’s staff spinning from his hand and tumbling into the melee below us. Suddenly the mage seemed to shimmer. There was a suddenly drop in the light and a sound like a door slamming and almost before I had time to register the fact Gorgoth was standing less than an arm’s length from me. Tiny needles of gold fire shot from his hands into my chest and I could no longer channel my power.

  “You troublesome little weevil,” the magician hissed at me pushing his heavily tattooed face close to mine. He snatched the crystal scimitar from my grasp. “Well, now you will die!”

  I struggled to focus my energy. The wizard laughed, seeming to sense what I was about. “You little fool,” he sneered, “You cannot break the cage. I devised it specifically to contain the more obscure magics like yours. That is my skill as the Mindforce is yours.” He raised the sword. There was another shrill hiss. Gorgoth turned swiftly raising his free hand. Kylos’ arrow froze in mid-flight and disappeared in a flash of crimson fire. “Not this time, archer.” The wizard sneered as the bronze arrowhead clattered harmlessly on the flagstones. “And no rescue,” he jeered as Dthor-Aid’n and Aenar began to race up the steps. A gesture sent up a wall of flame at the first landing of the stairs blocking their path.

  My struggling thoughts finally stilled as Gorgoth turned his attention back to me. From deep in my chest I felt a strange stirring like hot vomit preparing to rise. I knew this feeling. I had only toyed with this magic but it was flowing when all else seemed to be stymied. Another arrow, this time Faedron’s, fell to Gorgoth’s power but the distraction was all I needed to complete my conjuration.

  White froth poured from my nose and mouth congealing into fine tendrils of ectoplasm that tangled the wizard’s hands and slowly wrapped around his waist lifting him clear of the walkway. He began to struggle wildly twisting the crystal sword this way and that in a vain attempt to cut the tentacles that were bearing him up and away from the catwalk and lifting him high over the square and his invading troops. Then I simply withdrew my concentration.

  The ectoplasm vanished into mist and fled on the wings of the morning breeze. Gorgoth plummeted earthward like a shot crow, his screams shrill and loud. The black soldiers paused in the attack looking skywards. Gorgoth struck the ground in an explosion of blood and bone that covered ally and foe alike. There was a sudden deathly silence. My mind was instantly free again and I could move I leaned over the balustrade and stared down at the smear of blood, gore and bone that had once been my opponent.

  “Gorgoth has fallen! We are lost!” The cry sounded shattering the unnatural silence and was gradually taken up by the whole of the troop.

  Seizing their moment the Deloi thre
w open the gates of the Keep shouting “Your wizard is dead! Your wizard is dead!” and charged into the black soldiers hacking and slashing at whatever they could hit.

  Confused by the sudden retaliation of the Deloi militia and panicked by the loss of their magician the ranks of the Black Soldiers collapsed into chaos and they began to run for the gates falling to the anger of both the militia and the those more courageous civilians who emerged from their homes brandishing makeshift weapons once the rout began in earnest.

  I watched in grim satisfaction as below me the black clad invaders were slaughtered piecemeal some falling to their own weapons as the Deloi soldiers grabbed up the swords from the fallen or those dropped as the men tried to flee the city.

  The obstructing fire on the battlement steps flared wildly then vanished allowing Dthor-Aid’n and Aenar passage. I turned away from the fighting and made my way towards my friends holding tightly to the guard rail as the pain of the black wound in my shoulder boiled up in sympathy with my faltering steps.

  “Victory, Meriq!” Dthor-Aid’n called saluting me as I reached the top stairs. His look of jubilation became one of concern. “Meriq!”

  Suddenly the pain of the wound and the strain of my magical exertions took their toll. My strength ebbed away like wine from a cracked jug. I was vaguely aware of Dthor-Aid’n rushing towards me, grabbing me as I toppled down the stairs. I stared up at him vacantly as he carried me down to the courtyard

  “An vyahn abbadth t’zi annath—‘b’zaddi I knew you would not let me fall,” I slurred.

  I was vaguely aware of Markos whispering something the captain

  “Abbadan, shovaqi, abbadan. Never, my little demon, never.” He smiled down at me and then I knew nothing more.

  The feel of soft linen against my skin was comforting; so soothing that I was reluctant to wake. It was only the sound of Janir’s voice that finally dragged me from my dreaming.