In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  Time in Sayassa passed differently than it did in Eldonia. While the Champion and the General had seemingly spent hours enduring their respective trials, Elryia had only made her way back to the rest of the group, who now sat in a small circle, prepared to wait.

  Gort was the first to turn his attention to her as she approached, an eager somewhat relieved look on his face. "So after he returns, we're done aye? Make our way back ta Forgas?"

  "Done? Somewhat." Elryia answered, flashing the Dwarf a smile followed by a wink. "We still have a war to fight."

  "I only be meaning..." Gort grumbled, but as the playful look on her face remained, he subsided, even managed a smile.

  Merial crept a bit closer, pulling up next to Jeralyle. "And then...?" She asked, though she seemed to know the answer.

  "We live our lives... peacefully."

  The Sage turned a knowing look to Jeralyle, remembering the promise he had made, and he gave her a solemn, agreeing nod. Curiosity built first on Elryia's face, then everyone else. "Jeralyle is going to help me re-build my bar." She said, knowing they all sought an answer.

  "That is generous of him. What about the rest of you, though...Gort?" Elryia gave attention to the grumpy Dwarf.

  "I plan on getting out of this blasted sunshine for a while. And I'll tell you another thing, I ain’t never ridding another dumb horse as long as I live."

  "What about you Lanyan? What lies in your future?"

  The Elf turned his head up and gazed towards the direction of his home. "I am not sure. I have thought about it, but nothing seems definite. Perhaps I will return home, or see the world as it was meant to be seen, without fear of capture. All I know is that I will have Starrlana by my side when I do so. If I have learned one thing from this adventure, it's that I cannot hold anything back, especially my feelings. As well, watching you and Grahamas has made me... a bit envious."

  "How so?"

  Lanyan's gaze cast around the group, and he debated actually answering. Until now it had always gone unsaid since the moment the Champion had joined their group, perhaps even before. "I..." He cleared his throat and sighed, his nobility and honesty finally getting the better of him. "I want a love like that."

  Elryia's only response was an immediate flush of her face. She struggled to contain it, but that only seemed to spur it further. "Oh..." She said, mainly to drown out the silence, but nothing followed afterward and she found herself in it again. "Grahamas...I..." she flustered and she quickly turned to the all-knowing Goddess in hopes to be spared. "Lor. Help me out."

  She could only laugh and shake her head. "You're on your own here darling. I don't think anyone is oblivious to it, you may as well confess."

  Elryia growled lightly, an obvious decline, turning her eyes towards the Knight tucked at Lor’s side, desperation to remove herself from this line of questioning and who better to do it than someone who talked almost as much as Gnert. "Rist... say something, please. I'm begging you."

  "Grahamas..." He began, not finishing. Elryia hung on his words for a moment, but a quick nod of his head towards Sayassa forced her gaze back. "Is that what I think?" He questioned of the black silhouette with a large form gliding through the clouds.

  "Graham?" Elryia perked. "How could he be returning so quickly?"

  Lornya followed Elryia as she stood. "Things are different in Sayassa. An hour within the mist can only be a moment out here."

  "So it's possible...?"

  "Aye. Very."

  Elryia did her best to contain the joy swelling inside her. She had feared earlier that she would not see him for hours, perhaps days, and yet now the five minute walk seemed too much. She found herself running, the rest of the group desperate to catch her.

  She had gone all the way to the mists, almost into them in such a hurried pace. The moment she reached them her stop was so abrupt and her body tensed so quickly that everyone else halted along with her.

  The smile on her face shifted first to confusion, then concern, that emotion turned towards the group and she signaled them to draw back.

  "What is it, El?" Ristalln asked, ignoring her motion and instead coming forward, hand falling around the handle of his sword. His question was answered, not by her but by the sight of the figure that drew out of the mist.

  "Gerin..." Elryia whispered, half in question, half shock, but instinct had dropped her hands to the sides. When the others heard the name, each gathered, then coiled—ready to attack.

  The General was surprised how deeply it stung when he saw her. His body remained still, and he tried his best not to let his emotions tangle with his movements, but his mind was overwhelmed with memories that occurred only hours ago. The illusion that held some underlying truth, and his strange attraction to this woman. Not so much her, only the life that she represented and the other world that he now found a complex kinship to. Sayassa had left him with an understanding, yet at the same time more questions. As each and every companion spread out, and stared at him with such an intent hatred, he knew now was not the time to seek answers. "Put your weapons down. I'm not here to fight you. I'm too tired to, even if I wanted..."

  Confusion and mistrust overwhelmed every one of them, mostly Elryia, and her gaze jostled between him and the mist that he crept out of. Not seeming to understand she turned towards Lornya, hoping for an explanation, but the Goddess had not one to give. "How did you...What are you doing here?" She blurted out before she realized how futile it may be.

  "The same...as Grahamas, I believe. Looking for Fate."

  "Where did you hear that name?" Lornya sharpened on him.

  It appeared as though he would not respond and he only shifted his eyes between the group, waiting for anyone to make a move, yet all the while hoping none of them would. "Sayassa told me." He finally pressed.

  Seeming as though that's all he was going to say, Elryia closed on him, but his casual stance and his apparent wish to withdraw held her where she was. This was not the same Gerin she saw in Tarnel. He seemed sad, possibly even human. The young woman lost the will to attack, holding instead a desire—at least for now—to throw only questions his way. "Did you find it?"

  "No..."

  "How can I be sure? I promise you won't get by all of us, and we would never let you walk out of here with it."

  Gerin’s stature loosened even further. "You can't be sure of anything. But if I had the sword I would neither give it to you, nor continue to debate it with you so that either of us walk away unscathed."

  "What makes you think we would do that regardless of whether or not you have the sword. And why are you so willing to allow us the same privilege?"

  "Because I am not Kalinies, or Drogan. I am not even Idimus. My survival is key to bring about the world you fight so hard for. If the King falls, be it murder or assassination, another rises to take his place. Eldonia continues on in the abyss of despair it has been in for over three-hundred years. You want freedom, and the only way to achieve that is returning hope to the people. You won't kill me because you need this war as much as I once believed I did. You need me on the other end to fight it. Grahamas knew this. That's why he didn't end my life that night. He was adamant that the people need to see me on the other side, to fight me, either to watch their hopes flourish, or wither and die." Gerin stepped close, initially causing Elryia to tense and Ristalln to almost lunge. But the General's moves were slow, non-aggressive. "As far as me not attacking you…" He spoke softly in his mind, this time only to her. "I am not the monster you think me to be, or that my appearance would lead one to believe. What has happened in Sayassa, what I have seen, is something you will have to deal with, to mourn, perhaps for the rest of your life. Not even I would ask you to fight after what I am about to tell you.”

  Behind her the group sat confused unable to hear what Elryia did. And the realization struck the woman the same way a cave-in would. First, only bits and pieces of what Gerin had said broke through, then the entirety of it crushed her. "What
are..." El's eyes turned quick, first to Gerin then to Sayassa itself. "Where's Grahamas?"

  "He's gone, Elryia. He found Fate, but he failed at the last moment. The Champion fell to his death."

  "You lie."

  The once stone-hard face of Gerin surprisingly softened. "I speak the truth. I tried to save him, but I could not."

  "I don't believe you!" She hollered out loud, drawing the attention of everyone else, and Gerin was forced back as tiny bolts of lightning crept along her fingers.

  "El, what is it?" Lanyan asked, looking between her and the General. "What did he say?"

  Though her eyes were buried in hate, her leg trembled, her lip wavered, and behind them both a Goddess who was too powerful for Gerin to block out stepped forward, hearing exactly what was said.

  Without uttering a word, Lornya swept past all—even Gerin—and shoved her palm against the mist. Her eyes sharpened at first, scanning back and forth along the creeping clouds. Moments later they grew dark, sad. And as her hand fell, so did her heart, one tear shimmering and glinting in the fading light as it raced towards the ground. "It's true..." Her voice weak when she spoke. "Every word of it."

  "No..." Elryia gasped, blinking as she took an uneasy step back.

  "I'm sorry, El." Gerin spoke, and an oddly compassionate hand reached out towards her, but she was too far away and he reared it back to quickly to ever make contact.

  "Why...save him? Why try?"

  "I have my reasons. It was I who wished to kill him, and now I have lost that." His sincerity faded, his empty blank eyes thinned on her, fist seeming as though they would clinch. "I wanted vengeance. I wished my honor back. And though he's dead, I will still have it. And it shall be you who will give it to me. I'm well aware of what you're doing. Gathering an army, uniting the races in order to stand against us. I encourage it. The King will not know of your plans, nor will I seek to stop you. I want you to train them, make them the best that you can. Three months, Elryia. I will give you three months to mourn him, to train your army, to prepare. And three months from this day, we will meet on the Elysian fields—my army and yours, or I will hunt you down myself.” He paused, giving her a knowing look that nearly burned into her soul. “You'll fight, I discern you will. The world depends on it, as does my honor. I hope, Elryia, that Grahamas has taught you well, and that you bring me the fight in order to do both. End my torment. Free Eldonia."

  Although on the inside she had shattered, she held as strong as possible. Her leg shivered once more, but her gaze never did. "Count on it." She whispered, and that same stern look held on him as he walked forward.

  The rest of the group went to intercept him, for they had not heard his end of the conversation, but a mournful, now lifeless Goddess stopped them with one request. "Let him go..."

  And they did, though no one knew why.

  Elryia watched him walk, held on as he carried himself down the field. Perhaps it was shock that kept her so vigil. Maybe that it was now solely on her to lead Awakening and she refused to let the man she would ask them to battle against see her broken. The moment he was out of sight, out of earshot, she crumbled. Fell onto the nearest person to her—Ristalln—and wept, her arms hanging lifeless one moment then wrapping around him the next. Tears flowing from her eyes as the river did around Layanese. Her body now mirrored her emotions, she was unable to stand on her own, broken and empty. She gasped for breath, and buried her face in the Knight's chest when the sobs grew too loud. Eventually she lost the will to even move, and pressed into Ristalln who was holding her tight. Lost and lifeless. Now, she could only cry.

  Ristalln did not give any words, he did not have them. Only embraced her as tight as he could manage. The rest of the group had not heard, yet they now knew only a single thing could devastate such a strong, prideful woman like this. One by one, each gathered around Elryia, some reaching out to hold others, some sobbing along with her, but every one realized and was dealing with the obliterating truth:

  Grahamas The True is dead.

  An Emptiness Unyielding

  "I've found it!"

  Kalinies barged in, seemingly forgetting all the boundaries and rules Idimus had set for his chambers. He had not slowed his pace from the library all the way up the tower and down the hallway. He saw no sense in stopping now. His excitement had robbed him of his better judgment and was desperate for Idimus to hear what he had to say. Once he had, all minor intrusions would be forgiven.

  "I hope your reason for entering unannounced is nothing short of perfect." The King glared, but didn't change his relaxed position in the slightest way.

  Kalinies bowed fervently. "Aye, My Lord. Something that should make you very happy."

  "It better."

  At first, he had been running, but now he hunched over, crawling his way up to the King—a very old, tattered leather book in his grasp. "It will. It took me all night to find it, but I believe it is the answer to your...predicament."

  For the first time in a long while, Idimus looked intrigued, and as such he leaned forward to cast his eyes on the page Kalinies had pushed in front of him. Twice over his eyes scanned, falling on only a simple diagram. That which showed a flawless circle, written in red ink, outside of it another written in black. In between the border the two created were countless designs that were drawn quickly, ones that did not resemble anything he had ever seen, they looked slightly like normal letters, but different variations to them. Unbeknownst to the King, or even Kalinies, what was inside the border was Highlyian. In the middle of the circle was yet another carving, this one larger, stretching to the edge of the first. It started as one straight line going down the page, until it split a quarter of the way, two lines then drawing out diagonally down towards the left and right sides. But before they reached the circles edge, they split again, this time in both directions. Two lines turned back up, separating from each other, ending at the upper sides of the circle's edge. The other set drew in towards the middle, only a fraction wide, and only an inch of space between them. The end of both then curved outwards and down, forming two crescents where the insides faced each other, but held a wide gap in the center. "What is it?"

  "It's a spell...somewhat. Do you remember earlier that we spoke of potential ways around Valaira's magick?"

  "I do."

  Kalinies held it closer for him. "This is it. When I left your chambers the first time, I believed a silence spell would work. But to cast one powerful enough to affect Valaira would take an hour. At least from what you've told me, she is far too cunning for that. So I returned to the library, to look for either a way to contain the spell in something, so it could be unleashed later, or another way entirely, perhaps a potion. It was then I stumbled on this."

  "A book of magick?"

  "Actually, a book of old laws. In times before they had invented the shackles we now use to bind Wizards, this symbol was drawn or carved into the floor of a dungeon. If you notice, the designs on its outer edge are the same as those on the manacles. Once placed inside, it served the same purpose. Any spell caster placed within it was rendered virtually useless. I believe the same could be said for Valaira, so long as she was inside."

  "And then she would be trapped…" Idimus stated, a slight smile creeping across his face.

  "Well, not entirely my Lord. When she is inside the circle, her magick is gone, but unless she is in a place where she cannot escape, she may discover the trap and move out of it."

  "Then we must lure her in, and destroy her quickly." Idimus thought for a moment, then turned his eyes towards the window. "For that, I hope Gerin is successful, and he returns with Fate."

  "Have you any word?"

  "Not yet, but I imagine he is not in a place where he can communicate."

  It seemed as though a mistrust crept upon the King, as it usually did, and Kalinies stepped in quickly to try and stifle it. "King, he will find it, and most certainly bring it back to you. Do not allow yet another concern to plague your mind."

 
Idimus would never vocalize his concerns, even to his most trusted advisor, so he merely attempted to gloss over them. "It is simply the... waiting that is making me anxious, nothing more."

  "Understood, Sire. It is well placed I imagine. I would then leave you with this good news and allow your mind some peace. As well, I would ask to test this new found information. Perhaps it can be hidden..." The Wizard trailed off, as did his mind, already devising a plan as he scanned over the chambers. Worried, however, that he had overstayed his welcome, he bowed once and drew back, taking the manuscript with him. When he reached the door, he gave a second nod to the King who was still staring out the window. The Wizard had pulled it open and stepped halfway through before Idimus acknowledged him.

  "Kalinies..." The man stopped and faced him. "Well found."

  "Yes, Sire. Thank you, Sire." He muttered, bowing one final time as he rushed out.

  He had made it all the way through the hall and was creeping down the winding steps when relief hit him. He could finally rest. He had spent his second night in the Library, researching until he thought his eyes would blister, his mind would cave and his body give out from starvation. Though this stretch was done of his own accord.

  The moment Kalinies had learned of Valaira, a sick obsession for stopping her overwhelmed him. Partly due from her threat to the rule of the only man he held loyalties. But inside, he kept his own selfish reasons for wanting her destroyed.

  Her power and his ego.

  Idimus had said she could control him with only a single word. It was a magick more powerful than his own, on a level beyond his reach. He had tried for years to attain that upper echelon, where he could cast with a word or even a thought, but for him it was unattainable. It was for most. There had only been three that he knew of in his life. The first two were only stories he had heard only recently in his life. One being Valaira, the second came when he searched for a way to destroy her, and read of the original Wizard, one known only as the White Shadow, a spell caster that all others modeled themselves after, yet none could ever surpass.

  The third he had seen with his own eyes.

  As he continued back to his chambers, his frail finger wandered up to his shrouded face, tracing over the burn along his cheek that had stayed with him. His thoughts went back to that day. In some recess of his mind, it was always there—haunting him. He knew when he first met Elryia that she was unlike any other. Her magick radiated with a force he'd never seen, dominating all those he had met and destroyed, even when she was bound. He was impressed, even challenged, but when she had turned his spell back on him that day with such ease, he became enraged—obsessed.

  Much like the General, Kalinies was overly competitive. He sought to be the greatest in existence. But Kalinies’ title did not derive from determination and discipline as Gerin's. Kalinies did not push himself and devote his time to pursuing his art to rightfully claim the title. The Wizard did not train himself so that none could stand against him. He simply murdered any who did. Some he had poisoned, others trapped and burned, some killed while they slept. He was perhaps not the most powerful, but his heart was darker, and his mind more sociopathic than those he faced. For three hundred years he had invented new, ingenious ways of eliminating anyone who would strike him down.

  Valaira and Elryia were no different. Their power was something he had never faced, so he was forced—mainly by himself—to remain in the library until he had a solution for at least one of them. Valaira happened to come first. It would be far easier to trap her, lead her astray as she may still believe the King an ally.

  As he led himself out of the tower and across the field, his hand fell, a slight sense of accomplishment wavering over him. It was almost too perfect. His lust for power and compulsion could be crossed with his duty to his King, and he could serve Lord Idimus and himself at the same time.

  Then, all he would have to worry about was Elryia.

  He hoped the book tucked into his cloak, the one with the enigmatic title that came to him by mystic involvement would open the way.