A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  When I was right at the very edge of the space I began to move forward myself driving the mists away as I walked slowly towards the sounds of battle. Then, some twenty cubits distant I caught sight of the first of the black army. No sooner had I seen them than three of the men felt the wind on their backs and turned to face me.

  They had moved a scarce three paces when a flight of arrows whistled from the edges of the mist and thudded into their chests. The black breastplates exploded and the men dropped like rag dolls. Two more came, then four as I moved more quickly to expose the attackers. Three fell but two kept coming. I flexed my mind throwing them back, only to find that using my ability destabilised the churning wind.

  The men climbed to their feet and charged at me again. They were almost on me when Dthor-Aid’n’s deafening war-cry rent the air. His crystal blade scribed a deadly golden arc past my ear cleaving the head of the nearest man from his shoulders. A column of blue fire and black sludge burst from the severed neck and the man dropped. The body had scarcely touched the ground before the Captain whirled around, dropping on one knee and jamming his blade upwards under the black breastplate of the second. The black soldier screamed and then exploded in a grisly column of black slime, smoke and fire.

  As the wind exposed more of the black soldiers they would turn and charge at me. The men of the Kyr-Garrin would appear from the mists striking at any exposed flesh they could find felling those who were not taken by the archers and beheading those who were shot before they had time to come fully to rest. Then they would vanish again like ghosts to await the next onslaught. It was some time before I realised that they were allowing me to use myself as bait, knowing that the soldiers would break off the attack to try to kill me so that they could press the advantage that the fog gave them.

  We pushed forward slowly, cubit by cubit, taking the Black Soldiers out a handful at a time. But as the walls of the Keep came into view I felt my strength starting to fail. I staggered forward, jamming the stave into a gap in the flagstones to keep myself upright. Dthor-Aid’n was beside me in a heartbeat grabbing my arm to support me and calling the men to rank.

  “I cannot hold this for much longer,” I told the Captain.

  He drew his dagger. “Then take what strength you need from me.” He said and drew the blade across the palm of his hand.

  “No. It could kill you, Dthor-Aid’n.”

  “This is no time to argue, lad.” He answered, “I know you wizards can do it. So do what you must.”

  So saying he made a cut across my wrist and grabbed me with his wounded hand. There was a sudden flash of white light that blinded me for a moment. My strength returned in less than a heartbeat and the wind began to blow again with renewed vigour.

  With their assailants now completely exposed the Polisians began to hurl rocks and pour boiling oil from the battlements and with their sight unclouded the archers fired volley after volley of arrows from the arrow slits in the walls and towers.

  Realising that their cause was lost the Black Soldiers fled, several more falling to Faedron’s javelins, Kylos and the Deloi bowmen as they ran.

  I stilled the wind grabbing at Dthor-Aid’n as the man sank to his knees. Maegor and Aenar helped him to his feet as the mist began to close in around us once more.

  “That was reckless, Captain.” I scolded as the Polisians opened the gates and welcomed us inside.

  Dthor-Aid’n gave me a weak smile. “Almost as reckless as you exposing your position to the enemy.” He rejoined sinking on to a bench in the guardhouse.

  I called to Thaze to make up some of Aarin’s brew. “It will at least help you regain some of your strength.” I said, adding. “You could have died doing as you did, Dthor-Aid’n.”

  The soldier nodded his thanks to Thaze as the youth passed him his beverage. “In case it has escaped your notice, little dragon, there is not a man in this Guard who is not willing to die in your service or in your stead.” He drained the cup and set it down. “And besides,” he added, “I knew you would not let me fall.”

  The seneschal of Polis wasted no time in seeking us out. He arrived just as the midday sun began to burn the mist off the land. At my request he despatched riders to Delos to inform Janir and Keelan that Polis had indeed been attacked but that the city was safe for the time being and to deliver a request that reinforcements be sent so that we could set to cleaning the streets and clearing the corpses. This work being more out of respect for the fallen than from the necessity of preventing disease for it was still bitterly cold and there was little danger of plague or other diseases unless the wells became contaminated.

  With luck the soldiers would arrive in about two days and I had no doubt that the monarchs would move base to Polis being as it was closer to the Medran border and the city was better fortified and would provide better accommodation for the militia.

  “I have made apartments available to you in the northern tower, Ez’n-Kyr,” the Seneschal told me, “There is a comprehensive library that Anubis commissioned and I am certain that you will find the rooms to your liking.”

  I set off with the seneschal accompanied by the Kyr-Garrin who went to great pains in checking through the whole of the apartments to ensure that no assassins were lurking. Ursus and a couple of Deloi stationed themselves at the tower entrance while Tomas and Orrin stood guard outside the apartments proper.

  The rooms were spacious and very well appointed, the chairs upholstered with fine soft cushions covered in Cassandrian and Alfexan silks and velours. The walls were draped with tapestries woven to commemorate the great victories of the Pentageonate Wars and every window was glazed and draped. Seneschal Trennet has also supplied me with a full complement of household servants he had selected from his own staff.

  “It is the least we can do, Ez’n-Kyr, considering the debt we owe you and your men for the timely aid you provided us.” Trennet said expansively. “It would only have been a matter of time before we were overrun by those barbarians.”

  I rose the next morning to the sounds of hammering and shouting. Out in the city the soldiers and citizens worked alongside each other cleaning the streets and repairing the damage to the buildings. I turned from the window and made my way to the reception room where the staff were setting the table for breakfast.

  I had not long been settled when Aenar appeared with Kylos. “You pardon, Ez’n. Are we disturbing you?”

  “I have always been disturbed.” I laughed gesturing for the couple to join me.

  We sat quietly for a few moments as the men broke bread with me and served themselves some porridge from the large dish in the centre of the table. A serving girl appeared a few moments later with a pot of the local tea.

  “Is this a social call?” I asked as we ate.

  Aenar smiled. “Not entirely, Ez’n. I have come to ask for a few days leave so that I may visit with my wife and daughter.”

  “They are unharmed then?” It was more statement than question and the relief I felt must have been very evident in my voice for Aenar gave me a beaming smile.

  “And they are better for your asking, Ez’n,” Aenar stated. “I need to speak to my good lady about a certain little demon that has attached itself to me.”

  “Ah! I see.” I said and did. “So you have decided that you wish to take Kylos as a consort?”

  “He has no choice,” Kylos asserted. “I will be a blight on his life until he does!”

  “And you think you are not already a blight?” the Provost demanded.

  Kylos shrugged, excusing himself to use the garderobe. Aenar watching him go and turned to me. “I have to confess, Ez’n, I have never felt so drawn. Oh there have been other boys—and girls,” the soldier continued, “but they have only ever been dalliances. This is . . .” he paused to order his thoughts.

  “Love?” I ventured.

  “It must be,” Aenar replied. “I cannot imagine my life without Kylos any more than I can imagine it without Caelena and Kara.”

  “D
o you think the Lady Governess will object?” I asked.

  Aenar shrugged. It was unlikely. She was descended from ancient Zetan nobility, like Janir. And like the king she knew and understood tradition and the relationships that were forged in military life. “And given this,” Aenar said, “what objection could she have?”

  What indeed? I watched Kylos as he returned to join us. The young man was handsome—beautiful even, strong and athletic. He was royal by birth and had a nobility about him that extended far beyond mere bloodline. If Calaena failed to see the youth’s worthiness there would have to be something seriously wrong with her. But even as these thoughts formed, other less positive ideas began to flicker to life in the back of my mind. If Aenar’s wife did object to him taking a consort then what?

  Aenar regarded me seriously. “Then we continue as we have done so far—as war brothers.”

  “You mean you haven’t . . .”

  “Lain together?” Aenar asked, “Only to sleep, Ez’n. We will not do otherwise without my wife’s blessing.”

  “Yes.” Kylos said flatly, “But I must say that your self-discipline is most irritating.”

  I must have looked quite shocked because both men laughed at me. And even as I digested the one thing another sprang to mind almost at once. What on earth would Keelan say when he discovered that his youngest son had become consort to someone over twice his age and male?

  “Of course you make take your leave, both of you. And you can tell the Governess Calaena that the Ez’n has given you his blessing.”

  “I can hear a ‘but’ in that statement, t’pahq.” Kylos said sagely, scrutinising my face closely.

  “I am thinking of your father,” I said candidly, “and how he might react.”

  “He will either discharge me from his guard, disinherit and disown me or he will simply recognise the inevitable and accept it.” Kylos answered matter-of-factly. The archer placed his hand on Aenar’s pulling it to his heart. “I am my own man, t’pahq, and I am not much concerned with what my father or others may think.”

  I sat starting at the door for quite a while after the couple had gone. I could not help but admire Kylos’ determination to take Aenar as his consort, but I still had grave misgivings about Keelan’s reaction. It was well within the realms of possibility that he would order his son back to Morla or even command his execution. I knew full well that such executions occurred in Morla, Markos has made it quite clear. Yet he and his men had accepted Kylos’ announcement without as much as a flick of an eyelash. Well, I told myself as I pushed myself away from the breakfast table and prepared to seek out the Kyr-Garrin, Kylos had made his decision and now the dice would fall as they would.

  With that thought I set out to investigate the extent of the damage to the city. This, it transpired was a mistake. Everywhere I went I was beset by citizens and soldiers alike all bowing and touching my feet or the hem of my robe or grabbing at the hem of my cloak; and having been brought up short by the throat several times by the cloak grabbers, I shed the garment, throwing it over my arm and carried it despite the gnawing cold.

  I found Jae’nt, Markos, Tomas and Faedron working to replace the keep’s portcullis that had been destroyed by the black army. I watched for a while before wandering away towards the lower part of the city and the merchants’ quarter. It was here that I found Dthor-Aid’n and Maegor examining the contents of a goldsmith’s window.

  Maegor was looking for a gift to consolidate his pledge to Faedron. He did not want a ring since Faedron was of the opinion that only women wore pledge bands and he would probably be mortified, not to mention outraged, if he felt that Maegor considered him as a “boy-wife” even though such arrangements were well known to exist amongst the slye.

  “What do you advise, Meriq?” Maegor asked as I joined them at the window. “You know Faedron’s mind better than most.”

  “You might consider giving him something that you hold dear,” I answered. “After all Faedron is a hopeless romantic.” I let my gaze dwell on the tooth of the tusk bear Maegor wore on a chain around his neck. The man had killed the creature with his bare hands when it attacked a small settlement just outside Kalina and had worn the tooth as a talisman ever since.

  “You think he will accept something so plain and insignificant?” Maegor asked.

  “Trust me, Maegor. Faedron will not see it in such a light.”

  Dthor-Aid’n nodded. “I believe our beloved leader is right.” He gave me a wink. “Faedron will think you have torn out your heart and presented it to him.”

  Maegor shrugged, finally accepting the counsel. I made to carry on my way but found my path blocked by Dthor-Aid’n. “May we offer you a jar at yon tavern, Ez’n?”

  “That would be most welcome.” I answered.

  “Actually I think I will head back to the city now,” Maegor said as Dthor-Aid’n pushed open the tavern door. “I need to prepare for the night watch.”

  “In the mid morning?” I asked as Dthor-Aid’n ushered me inside.

  “Honestly, lad! I sometimes wonder where you keep your mind. Maegor was obviously keen to make his gift to Faedron and then slythe a little.”

  “In the mid morning?” I said again, feigning shock.

  Dthor-Aid’n laughed sliding his arm casually around my shoulder as he guided me to a table and ordered the drinks.

  Janir and Keelan arrived with six platoons and the entire royal household some five days after the fight, and much though I liked the staff Trennet had supplied me it was a relief to have familiar faces around me at home.

  The artisans, builders and soldiers set to work within a matter of sectas after their arrival leaving the preparation of barrack space to those companions who had travelled with the militia. Within a matter of days the fortifications had been repaired and most of the streets had been cleansed of the sludge and ash. But as the cleaning work was completed another effect of the legion’s work became apparent.

  Where the sludge had been washed out of the city through the storm drains it had run out through the drainage gullies and collected in pools at the foot of the fortress motte killing every plant and animal that came into contact with it. What was worse was that not even the most voracious of the carrion would touch the carcases and with the spring thaw now well underway it would only be a matter of time before the carcases began to rot in the warming weather and disease would become a real threat.

  With that in mind I initiated the building of pyres and ordered that any creatures found dead near the black pools were to be burned immediately. And while the builders and their apprentices set about constructing the crematoria around the city I turned my attention to Anubis’ library in an attempt to find a means of purging the pollution before it became a serious problem. Already the vegetation around the dark ponds was dying off as the brackish water—or whatever it was leached into the surrounding earth.

  “Just what I need,” I muttered to myself pushing the alchemical grimoire I had been studying across the table, “Yet another unknown quantity in my life.”

  I was thinking of the Alliance Treaty. Since fixing my bloody script I had made no further headway with filling the void. More than once was I tempted simply to compress the document and overwrite the space with the existing terms, but no matter how I determined to manage the gap my thoughts kept turning to Anubis’ intentions. And much as I found the situation frustrating I could not escape the nagging feeling that my mentor had fully intended that something important was to fill the void.

  A shadow passed across the desk making me start slightly. I turned to find King Keelan and his aide Aldrigan standing beside me.

  “My apologies for disturbing your studies, t’pahq. I wonder if you might have some time to spare. There is a matter requiring resolution and your presence is paramount.”

  Something inside me seemed to shudder at the king’s use of the honorific my men had bestowed on me, and there has something more; something vaguely sinister and predatory in Keelan’s demeanour
. I closed my books and rose following the king out into the central square. Janir and the Kyr-Garrin were already positioned at the top of the steps and the parade ground was like a lake of fire brimming as it was with so many scarlet clad Morlans that not even a mouse could squeeze between them. The air became deathly still as we appeared on the steps of the governor’s Keep.

  Keelan stared out over his men like a dragon selecting its victim from a herd of deer. “Bring them.”

  There was a clattering of halberds and pikes as a ripple of movement spread through the ranks and the soldiers parted to allow a group of twelve men marching four abreast to enter the assembly. My heart leapt into my mouth.

  Aenar and Kylos were standing in the first rank flanked by two hoplites who were large even by Mortar standards. The slight muttering that began in the ranks of the Kyr-Garrin died away as Keelan turned his head fixing the men with a gimlet stare. He turned his attention back to the twelve and nodded. Aenar, Kylos and the hoplites strode forward stopping at the first step. The provost and archer made formal salutes and genuflected. Keelan curled his lip slightly like a snarling dog.

  “You have what I want?”

  “We have, your highness,” the pair answered rising at the monarch’s signal.

  Keelan signalled to the men in the last rank who jostled against the four in front of them forcing them to the steps. Aenar and the Morlans parted, the provost and his consort taking up position a step above the hoplites. My pulse steadied and the Kyr-Garrin visibly relaxed. The king turned to me. “Do you know these men, Ez’n-Kyr?”

  I recognized one instantly from the black scar on his face and neck, the others were only vaguely familiar, but in my heart I knew that these were the men who had slaughtered my family and given me into slavery. Keelan took my arm escorting me to where the men stood at lance point. I stared up at scar face. “This one I know for certain as the man who raped killed my brother and sister,” I said at length. “These others? I am not sure.”