In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

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  Morning finally broke upon the General, and for him it was a pleasant change. The night had been cold, dull, and silent, with only the whisper of his own conscience to keep him company. The rising sun had given him respite, at least from the weather; from the boredom. His thoughts, however, were the one thing that the blazing yellow rays streaking over the horizon could not erase. Since the first time leaving Kaldus—even since he battled Grahamas—he felt fear. For on that sun-soaked horizon, the very beginning of Sayassa was visible. He would not arrive until nightfall, but it was there all the same.

  From here, it simply looked like fog. White thin mist that stretched well into the sky, and spreading out to either side. Gerin knew, however, when he drew closer it would change, its mystery and intrigue was what drew him to it the first time. Sayassa was like no other element he had ever seen. Only subtle differences appeared at first. The mist was not one, long never-ending cloud, rather it was formed of several thin layers front to back, stretching from ground to sky; ones that were flowing as if they had a mind of their own. Some moved upwards, others down. Other layers moved from left to right, or right to left. The very first was a brilliant white in color, but as it deepened, it started to grow dingy and bleak. The colors changed. Some were a soft yellow, then darkened into blues and crimson, making it hard to see past the first few. Lightning roared along the outer edge in sporadic bursts, creeping along the front line in bolts that would span out twenty feet long. It portrayed a calm, serene face, but deep within a dark, cold world like a field full of sunshine, a thunderstorm as its backdrop. It was a strange place, even from the outside, and anyone with a curious nature could not help but be sucked into it. Gerin was just as inquisitive as anyone.

  On his original journey, the swirling, crackling cloud, corrupted and trapped him the moment he made his first step. It crept into his lungs and his mind. It latched onto him, playing on his deepest darkest desires, toying with his emotions. Even if he wanted to, if the mist had not lulled him further on and he desired escape, it would have been impossible. Once he broke through, everything about the real world vanished from sight.

  And as Gerin drew further, looking upon its magnificence, he knew it would be just as hard this time, and it would only get worse the further he traveled inside.

  That was the thought eating away at him. That he could very easily lose his mind or even his life for a King he no longer honored, one that would steal the weapon he had come to this place to find, and fought so hard to retrieve. Idimus would leave him to battle Grahamas and fight a war without the sword, and his Liege would not feel one shred of guilt in doing so.

  Yet, Gerin continued on, determined to find it. Not for Idimus, but himself. It was more than simply gaining power, or the upper hand. Gerin needed to know he could find it, know that he could still accomplish. His last attempt had ended in utter failure.

  With all his confusion, his moral dilemma, he needed something to invigorate him—remind him of who he could be. The weapon itself was trivial. He expected not to even use it. Like Idimus himself, it would remain tucked inside his massive tower, before, during and after the war. Nor did he want to carry it. His vengeance would be pure, unhindered and unaided.

  Gerin twisted in his saddle, shifting against the spite that threatened to rise up again. He had still not settled on one thing. Sometimes he felt almost sorry for the King. That his deceptive, manipulative nature was no fault of his own; that it simply be madness.

  At other times—like now—he felt only rage and hatred, to a point where he considered killing Idimus. Such notions would never be acted upon by him. Death seemed almost too forgiving—too quick. Idimus had likely been molding Gerin for years, and yet his punishment would only last seconds if he were to murder him.

  In essence, it may not change anything. He knew if Idimus were to fall, someone else would take his place. That person would most likely be Kalinies, and that was the one person Gerin would never, ever serve. The Wizard was frail, he was weak. He hid from his enemies, he took safety in shadows and corners, and most times never saw those he battled face-to-face. He used tricks to win wars, not tactics. It was petty, and dishonorable. In some odd way, he was just as cowardly as Idimus, only he hid behind a snorting, drooling monster, not a black, stone tower with only one window. Gerin may eventually find himself falling into an immortal struggle—one of never-ending deceit where kings rose, commanded him and twisted him, only to eventually fall until the General himself took the throne. A position he never wanted. He belonged on the battlefield, not behind a desk. He made strategies, not decrees. Above all else, he was a warrior. Would rather risk his life fighting for his freedom and honor than creating a law that demanded it.

  As the last bit of farms and civilization faded away, Gerin spurred himself on, his curious nature once again taking hold, and this time it overwhelmed him. As the mists drew closer, he began to wonder what he would find within them. For any soldier, the key to survival was preparation. It was surveying the surroundings and the enemy long enough to develop a plan. Gerin, now, did not have this option. He was entering the unknown—blindly but willingly. He could develop every possible scenario, but gathering assumptions from his first experience, whatever he could comprehend, the mist would bend it, twist it and use it to show him things he couldn't possibly imagine. Things like a normal life. The first time, he had accepted Sayassa's offer for that life, and it seemed to deem him unworthy for his choice, then released him back into the world. Perhaps it was a test, that if he passed, would have led him further in. What he would have encountered beyond that was what frightened him, because he knew, whatever it was, he would have to face it now.