In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  Idimus was beginning to grow impatient. He had first tried to create within Gerin a feeling of trust and partnership in order to obtain Fate, but that left little opportunity for him to use control. He had given Gerin a chance to rest, and he imagined only waiting two or three hours. He had been waiting six; all of them spent agonizingly wondering when or even if Valaira would stroll into his chambers again. Every moment she did not, Idimus grew even more stressed. Days had passed since Sharia, and not a word had come from her. Perhaps she no longer needed him; perhaps she was making plans right now to steal away his throne. If he was not able to stop her, she may very well do that. As the thoughts piled on, the King’s mind crumbled further. He was left battling himself, whether to be a tyrant and jeopardize his secret to a General he suddenly didn’t trust or to be lenient and risk losing his mind.

  Very little angst actually washed away when he finally heard a knock. “Enter,” he ordered, with an oddly soft tone, prompting the guard to open the door and Gerin to proceed. In the usual manner, the General knelt in front of the throne and waited to be addressed. “I trust you are prepared.”

  “Yes, Sire. I have sent word to Estechian that he would need to watch over the army until I return. As well, I have packed provisions: a grapple, my leaves, salves, and my bow. I have no idea what’s ahead so I’ve over-prepared. I’ve taken the liberty, too, of borrowing a rested horse and two guards to escort me at least part of the way. I hope I have not overstepped.”

  “No, not at all. Take what you need.”

  Again, Gerin pondered the King’s sudden compassion as well as his sincerity, but he didn’t voice any of his concerns. He simply bowed one final time, assuming they were finished, “Anything else, My Lord?”

  “No… Simply that I wish you luck.”

  “Thank you, King.” When the final word was spoken, he stood and made his way out and then down the tower’s stairs, heading through the tunnels of the inner wall. It was only when he was outside, did he truly begin to focus on the King’s motives. Idimus, for all his downfalls, was a strong ruler and his empire was built on fear and control. He didn’t ask for loyalty, he commanded it. Everything that Idimus had, he used power to gain. In all the years Gerin had known him, he could not recall one time where the King had been compassionate, or anywhere near. Now, both times he had been overly so. A distrust—like the one that started in Roane—crept into Gerin’s brain. Idimus was keeping secrets. While it was something he had always done, this time he tried incredibly hard to deny it, or at least sway Gerin’s mind away from it. He treated many with that sort of manipulation, but never the General.

  Idimus was hiding something so sacred, so terrifying, that he now tried to deceive the only man who had ever followed him without question. There was a chance—however small—Idimus had Gerin’s honor in mind. He acted as though that were true, but it would be the first time. Idimus cared only for two things: himself and his power over the people. Nothing would ever change that.

  A reality Gerin had accepted. Idimus was his king and he followed his orders. That was how he was raised and what he believed, despite his better judgment at times. Never once had Gerin wavered in his duties, shown the slightest hint of dissension. It was insulting that Idimus would stoop to manipulating him. The General began to wonder if the King’s faith in him was that frail after all these years. He even considered it may have always been like that. It was becoming apparent that Gerin had earned nothing in regards to Idimus. All his work, toil and turmoil, all the times that he had battled for him, all the years he’d followed orders had not been enough to establish one ounce of trust. Idimus still did not believe that he would do as asked—without knowing why.

  As Gerin pulled passed the drawbridge and stepped to the moat, he turned to the two guards waiting patiently for him, “I decided not to have an escort, thank you.”

  Each one nodded and withdrew as the boatman crept towards them. Before Gerin was allowed on, the man took a long, hard look at his face to make sure that it was actually the General—unwilling to make the same mistake as the last boatman, who mysteriously disappeared. Once he had proven who he was, the General stepped forward and stabilized himself. On the other side sat his horse. He wondered if leaving the two guards behind was the best idea, but through his thoughts in the tunnels, Gerin decided to travel alone.

  Mostly for the peace and quiet, but deep down in a place he would never talk about or acknowledge—a place that surprised even him—Gerin wondered if he would even return.

  The answer now stood as only a maybe. He still sought vengeance and being a soldier was all that he knew, but the way Idimus had treated him as of late it seemed that’s all he was. Not an ally, an ambassador, or a general. He had fallen down the ranks in a matter of days and for no other reason than he worked for a delusional king. He opted for this ride alone based on that. He needed time to think about these recent events. He would not be able to do that with two soldiers following him, and perhaps even reporting to Idimus. They would force him to keep an agenda.

  The Sayassan mists were a week away if he pushed himself, but that was one thing he didn’t want to do. Not only did he wish to use this time to better understand his place within the kingdom, but to garner up the courage to travel within an environment he had spent his whole life avoiding.

  Gerin remembered the first time he had wandered into them. It was a feeling he never had before, and one he would not have again. It was almost like dying: a sudden, overwhelming panic that washed away to a serene, quiet sensation the moment he entered. As he drew further, the clouds about him changed, starting out as only silver and gold, to royal purples and reds, and finally crimson. He should have turned away at that moment, but he lost all sense of where he was. Back seemed to be forward, up seeming down. He was lost. The only thing his mind had to focus on was a small valley well within the mists, far off in the distance. With that his only guiding point, he headed towards it, but the more steps he made the further away it retreated. It seemed only a deception, like a lure that was pulling him further and further in. Regardless, he continued, until the mists around him went black. It was then he started to hallucinate, to hear voices.

  Visions that were not his own tapped at his mind; ones of him in a different world as a different person. In those visions, he was normal. He had a mouth and eyes with a soul in them, a wife and a darling child. He was no longer a General who risked his life, but a farmer who put his family above everything else. Gerin always believed that he was a miracle, or at least that was what he tried to present. But in his mind, since he was a child, he always felt abnormal, an outcast. All he wanted to be was like everyone else and the mist somehow knew that and showed it to him. Then, offered it to him. Voices and whispers promised him a different life and happiness. Said they could change everything for him. So he accepted. As the mist surrounded him, seeped into his lungs and his body, he lost himself and gave into a moment of weakness. Then everything went dark, both around him and inside him. He fell unconscious and when he awoke he was outside them exactly where he entered. Gerin was too frazzled as well as too ashamed to ever enter again, or to think about it long enough to determine what happened.

  Now he was returning, following a mock order from a manipulative king. But he wasn’t making this journey for Idimus. Despite how the King tried to use such an emotion to persuade him, Gerin had pride. Was doing this for himself. The sword would no doubt be incredibly useful. He knew that the moment he entered Kaldus Idimus would wrench it from his grip; but perhaps he could use it to pry at least a little respect. If he decided not to return it, it would serve as a suitable defense if the King opted to retaliate.

  Now, passed the final rocks that made up the outer edge of Kaldus, the sun glared off of them as it blazed high above his head, reflecting off of the black onyx and driving into his eyes. He was almost forced to blink but the light dimmed then faded entirely. Gerin thought it only a passing cloud, yet still he looked up. A
bove him a huge silhouette; one of a massive body, a curling tossing tail, and large leather wings stretched but completely still. He knew without any detail it was the same dragon they encountered in Sharia and perhaps that same strange woman was with him—maybe even Estophicles.

  Gerin toyed for a moment with the idea of following them. Perhaps uncovering this looming secret for himself of who she was and what part she played. But their direction was not the same one he headed to and Gerin had no hopes of catching such a creature on a horse. As much as he wanted answers, he was not willing to set aside his current task to obtain them. Though his curious side couldn’t help but wonder where they headed or even who they were.

  As the dragon did, the thought simply passed him by as he broke from the barren land of Kaldus onto the flat, soft fields of Doren Valley. Despite taking short cuts here and there, he had over a week with nothing to do but ride and think, mostly about his future; perhaps his own survival.