In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  "This is either the beginning," Gerin spoke to himself, his foot leaving the last bit of the dirt trail and onto the rugged gravel "or the end." His eyes scanned along the black, jagged rocks that littered the ground. Though his journey was short now, he still had to cross the moat and make his way up the tower. There was still time to turn back, but he had truly never considered it. His nerves were surprisingly settled. When he arrived in Davaina, he worried that such a town would draw to him unwanted attention, or that—as far out as it was—a soldier would recognize him, a roving patrol would find him. None of which actually happened. There was one person in town who knew him, but one who had a secret to keep just as badly as Gerin, and at that instant the General was set free. Had it been anyone else within that store, he would not have purchased a weapon. Or if he did, paranoid second thoughts would have followed him all the way here. But he was able to make a deal with Rhimaldez, and each was given a pact. Gerin knew, that if the ex-captain lived to be a thousand years old, he would never utter a word to anyone about what had happened. He only needed three months. After, it didn't matter. He worried the calm he felt would dissipate once he drew close to Kaldus, yet it remained.

  Perhaps lingering because of his faith in the exquisite blade Rhimaldez had sold him. If anything was going to pass for Fate, it would be the sword now wrapped up and tied to his back. He had done well in his find, much better than he ever imagined.

  Or by chance, he was one step closer to his destiny, and one more breath near to being free of it—in death or otherwise. Two-hundred years he had spent waiting for this, and every day of those he had not once cared about his freedom. Yet the recent betrayal by Idimus and his enigmatic encounter with Shayanne had made him question how he ever lived without it. He wondered that as he crossed the moat, pondered it as he ascended up the tower, but every time his hard sole placed upon the smooth granite, another curiosity drove in to replace the current.

  As he drew nearer to the chambers, advanced closer to the King, he could not help but wonder if Idimus would hold to his promise and allow him to use the sword during his battle. It truly did not matter. It was only a sword, and Grahamas was dead. Whatever power he needed from Fate was no longer necessary, his army would crush Elryia's in a matter of hours. Still, he could not help but hope Idimus—for once—would keep his word. It would surely not be honored out of decency or loyalty if he did, only as one more guarantee to his throne. The very thing he had trained Gerin his whole life for. Again, as it had so many times on his journey back, the thought almost locked his lungs.

  He came to the first set of guards. Wearing his usual, callous gaze, he bowed to them, then passed by. Down the long hallway he traveled, waiting at the end until the second set announced him like they had hundreds of times before. When they returned and held the door open, he entered, taking a deep breath.

  He had barely broken the threshold when an eager, frantic king leaned forward. "I trust you have good news for me..."

  Gerin went to address the King, but his wary eyes were drawn to the advisor standing next to the throne. Kalinies. "Is he... aware of the situation? If you prefer to speak in private..."

  "No.” Idimus waved it off. “Kalinies is well aware of everything. Did you find it?"

  "I did, My Lord. It's here." He reached back, pulling the sword from his shoulder, holding it face up in both palms as he knelt before Idimus.

  The white cloth was still wrapped about it, and Idimus’ frail, chilling fingers reached out, prying it off one layer at a time. He left it to remain on the General's hand, and leaned back to admire it. "Amazing..." he whispered once the final film had fluttered off. “This is magnificent..."

  The weapon truly was, despite being only man made. The blade was polished, flawless silver, not a mark or blemish, barring the indentation between the edges. In it Rhimaldez had carved what looked to be runes, starting from the tip to the blade and all the way down to the guard. It looked authentic, though the General had never seen such writing. According to Rhimaldez, it was a spell for strength, written in a language long since dead, one he found in a book. It served perfectly for the ancient illusion.

  The hilt separated into two parts. One in the shape of a diamond, the top pyramid lay over the blade's bottom, the other over the handle. From the diamond's left and right edges, the guard drew out, made up of four long pieces--two left, two right. The steel of each was an inch in width, with half as much space between the two. The lines drew out parallel at first, one pointing towards the King the other towards the General. They remained that way for only a fraction, where the top sloped down, the bottom curved up. Each met, wrapped around each other and reversed their design again, so that the left was right, right was left. For nearly a foot it continued on, each wrapping around one other—one black, one white—spiraling their way out from the blade, until both ended at a sharp point, and one curved up to direct at the blade, one to the ebony made handle. Like the blade, the grip had an unknown language etched down its center and either side, the letters a blazing red against their black background. They started at the hilt and spread down to the butt of the handle. The pommel a four-sided pyramid, each corner creeping over the edge of the circular handle, one half made of a sterling silver stained white, the other the same black ebony.

  "So this is..." Idimus held his tongue, remembering that he had not told Gerin its name, and for a brief moment feared if the General knew how powerful it truly was, he would take it back. "The legendary blade of Eldonia. This certainly is good news, General."

  Gerin dipped his head. "And yet, not the most important My Lord."

  "No? What possibly could take precedence over this?" The King shot up.

  "I was not the only one seeking this weapon..."

  Idimus crept close, a motion caused by both worry and intrigue, a movement mimicked by Kalinies. "Who?"

  "Grahamas was there, Sire."

  "Grahamas..." He looked at the sword, just to be assured he truly had it. "Did you see him?"

  "See him?” Gerin’s eyes tightened. “My Lord, I killed him."

  The King's eyes went wide. "Killed? How?"

  Gerin relayed to him everything that happened within Sayassa, leaving out several key points that would reveal his dissension. The encounter with the Champion he changed entirely. Instead of trying to save Grahamas, Gerin told Idimus he held onto Graham only long enough to rip the sword from his grip, then dropped him to his death. The exact thought he had opted against. To further validate the story, he expressed disappointment for having destroyed him there as opposed to the battlefield where he so desperately wanted.

  "He's... dead." Neither Gerin nor Kalinies could determine if that was a statement or question. "Can you be sure?"

  "I am sure. I could not climb down to verify, but as high as we were no one would have survived that fall."

  "...What happened after?"

  Gerin held off on telling him the rest of the story—the deal he made with Elryia and the location of the war. Punishment would follow if Idimus knew he had the chance to kill her and ignored it. As well, it would certainly reveal things he did not want his King to be aware of. When enough time had passed, he would disclose the time and place, else it may not play into his plans. "After? I returned here as quickly as I could, My Lord. I know how important this sword is to you."

  Idimus didn't say anything, only returned his gaze to the blade, gaping in awe before his fingers wrapped around the handle. He lifted it with seeming ease, a feat that finally broke his silence. "I cannot believe how light it is."

  Kalinies had let him be for a long time, his eyes following as the King turned and twisted it, getting used to the feel. When he could hold out no longer, he reached forward. "Sire... May I?"

  Idimus looked wary, but he needed the Wizard to verify its authenticity and for the first time, Gerin worried. "Be careful." The King ordered, giving in.

  "Of course..." He gripped it, a shake erupting down his
forearm. "Yes. I can feel the power emanating from it." He marked, tracing his finger down the carvings.

  Though his breath wanted to force out, Gerin held it back. He was not sure if Kalinies was feeling the power of the spell inscribed on the blade, or he simply said that to hide the fact he felt nothing, possibly looking like a Charlatan—something Gerin had always considered him to be. Either way, the General was pleased, and with his duty done he could now return to Roane. "It is my honor to please you, King. Now that your request has been fulfilled, I ask permission to return to Roane and continue training my army."

  Idimus was lost, acting like a child seeing the ocean for the first time. His attention placed solely on the blade, an expression of wonderment carved on his weary face. Nothing else would remove it. "Of course..." he spoke without ever looking up. "You're free to return." Gerin stood, bowed one last time and made his way to the door, Idimus remaining locked the entire time.

  Outside, Gerin had no choice but to chuckle at his new found reason for betrayal, not that he needed it. He had almost lost his sanity in Sayassa; his very life. Risked it all to hand the King something he asked for—not ordered. He was too wrapped up in his own life, in his own selfish needs to even say thank you, or well done. He treated Gerin as he always had, as he did everyone else. Simply there to supplement him, to maintain his Kingdom. Appreciation was non-existent in Idimus' mind. If he did his job, the best reward he got was being ignored. Had he failed, it would have meant his life. With Idimus, it mattered not what he did, but what he didn't. And that would never change.

  The General, again, had grown so very weary of that.

  Inside, Idimus and Kalinies both found serenity that the final piece of their plan was in their grasp. "Now" The King began "all we have to do is devise a way to place that symbol on my floor where she will not see it, and lure her in."

  "If she even returns..." Kalinies whispered, finally handing the sword to Idimus. "We have not seen her in a long time."

  "She will. She wants to rule this world just as I do. Valaira may no longer need me, but she will still have to finalize her claim, and she can't do that without killing me. This world cannot have two rulers. She will come to take it from me, and when she does, I will be ready with Fate to destroy her."

  "Very true...Things are working out to our advantage, even more so. Grahamas is dead. You are now free of him."

  "Grahamas..." He whispered, his eyes tracing along the blade, his mind trying to picture the encounter that finally ended the dangerous, undefeated Champion. As if it had not dawned on him until now, he finally stated it in his own mind. "Grahamas The True is dead." A realization that should have brought elation and peace, only surfaced angst and despair. He was not free. He would never be. His death would not change anything. Elryia and the others would continue to pursue, perhaps even harder now, wishing to fulfill his life's goal of freeing the people. Grahamas’ death didn't matter. If Idimus were to die here, today, not one would continue on his legacy, none would carry on his rule. He, in absolute selfishness, would not want them to. It ended with him. But not with Grahamas. In some strange way, it would begin. They would continue on until either Idimus or they were dead. His Kingdom needed to live on—he needed to live on. His never-ending goal to maintain his throne became that much harder, the stress became like a molten lead pouring into his brain and weighing down every thought to come after.

  "Sire?" Kalinies asked, now realizing Idimus was no longer paying attention.

  "Hmm?" His black, beady eyes finally washed of their glaze.

  "Are you well, My Lord?"

  "Aye. I was simply thinking of Valaira, and how we would trap her."

  "I will think on it as well, but it would be much easier if we knew where she was."

  "That is a good question, and one we need to answer.” The King allowed his gaze to drift towards the window. “Where... is Valaira?"