A Time of Darkness (The Circle of Talia)

by Lister, Dionne

  Unsurprisingly, Bronwyn found Avruellen, Arcon, Blayke, and the creaturas sitting around the central table, discussing procedures for the coming amulet activation. She sat, trying to keep her sadness from showing.

  “So, you’re finally up? Did you sleep well?” Avruellen asked.

  Bronwyn forced a smile. “Yes, thanks. So what’s happening?”

  Arcon answered. “According to The Comprehensive Realmists’ Almanac of Incantations, both amulets have to be activated together—they need to get to know each other, so to speak.”

  “Why?” asked Bronwyn.

  “Because they will work together. The battle with the gormons is where the final activation will take place. During this final activation, the amulets will not only be dangerous but will change you and Blayke, although it doesn’t say how. Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound like something you are going to come out of unscathed.”

  “What do you mean? Will it kill us?” Bronwyn place her palms on the table and stared in fear at Arcon.

  His neutral expression gave nothing away. “I don’t think so, but there is a warning at the end of the section. It was supposedly written by a realmist dreamer channeling Tokim, the god of what will be.” Arcon cleared his throat and read.

  During a time of darkness

  Fierce battle will they see

  Against murderous gormons

  And Kwaad, their enemy,

  Who will bear the might of Three.

  When blood doth run

  Rivulets around their legs,

  Victory Drakon will not find

  Unless the keepers of the halves

  Have sacrificed to make it One.

  And having burnt away

  All that they are

  In dragons’ cleansing fire,

  Know themselves they must—

  For only if they do

  Will the hordes be overcome.

  But, be that so, even in victory

  Two must die to make them free.

  Blayke rubbed the back of his neck. “That gives me the creeps. It reminds me of my dragon dream. You know the one.”

  Arcon nodded.

  “What dragon dream?” asked Bronwyn.

  “I used to have it all the time but didn’t have it for ages. Actually, I started having it again after we came down out of the mountains, on the beginning of this—what would you call it—adventure.”

  Bronwyn looked at him and saw he was reluctant to continue. “Would you say it’s more of a nightmare?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I have one too, and I guess that’s no surprise since we’re twins. In my nightmare I’m standing in a storm, and the rain is falling so hard it hurts my skin. There’s an awful, deep scream. I shut my eyes tight, and it’s all I can do not to die from fright. When I open my eyes, there’s a dragon standing in front of me, but not a normal dragon. This dragon is three times the size of Zim and it….” Bronwyn took a deep breath.

  Blayke interrupted before she could continue. “And it opens its mouth and eats you alive?” She nodded. They both looked to Arcon for an explanation. Arcon looked at Avruellen, and she gave a slight nod. Sinjenasta hung his head: he knew what the dream meant, but he wasn’t able to tell them. Drakon would probably strike him dead before he’d let that happen.

  Arcon spoke. “That dream is a true dream. But before you go screaming down the hall, it may not mean what you think it means. Your life is not necessarily going to end in the belly of a dragon.”

  “But it might?” asked Bronwyn.

  Arcon pursed his lips. “Well, there are no guarantees, of course. From what this prophecy says, you and Blayke will join the amulet so it becomes one. What happens after that involves fire, but who and even if someone dies is another matter. I’m sure those prophesy writers got a kick out of knowing they were going to scare some poor realmists one day in the future.”

  Blayke spoke, the words rushing out in a single breath. “But someone does die.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “You don’t know that, lad,” said Arcon.

  Blayke stood up. He couldn’t believe he’d almost given away the painful secret he’d been keeping since the last activation. Not wanting to alarm his family, he sat back down, took some calming breaths and lied. “No, I suppose I don’t. But what if I am right? Isn’t there another way to fight the gormons and win?”

  Arcon shook his head. “That’s enough speculation. I only read the prophesy out so you had some expectation of what might happen. I didn’t want to scare everyone. We can all do this. We have the strength to fight. After we finish the second activation tonight, we’ll head back to Bayerlon: I’m sure King Edmund will need us, and it’s the perfect place to plan a war. The other thing we need to think about is initiating you two into The Circle.”

  Bronwyn and Blayke let their mouths hang open. They had been working their whole lives just so they could become members of The Circle, but neither really believed they’d ever be good enough. “Okay,” continued Arcon, “it’s time for dinner; then we have some amulets to bless.”

  Instead of going to the dining hall, Bronwyn thought she’d help serve the meal: maybe she could get Corrille to see she really did care. Entering the bustling space, she approached the head cook. “What can I do to help?”

  The chubby woman smoothed her white apron with work-worn fingers. “You can take any full bowls to the table. You’ll find everything that’s to be served over there.” She pointed to the timber table in the middle of the room that doubled as the dining table for kitchen staff. Bronwyn almost walked into Corrille, who held a hot terrine filled with roast potatoes, baked pumpkin slices, and eggplant, with cloths to protect her fingers.

  “You want to help? Here.” She shoved the dish at Bronwyn, who grabbed it—without the cloths. Bronwyn, not near the table, dropped to her knees, hurriedly thumped the terrine on the floor and looked at her blistered, red hands. Concentrating through tears, she channeled a trickle of power from the Second Realm—not enough that anyone would be alerted—and sped up the growth of new skin cells until her hands were a healthy pink, the pain gone.

  By the time she looked up, Corrille had left. The cook stood over her. “Are you all right? That will leave a nasty burn. Here: use this wet cloth to cool the skin.”

  “No. It’s okay. I took care of it.” Bronwyn held up her hands to show the woman, then grabbed the cloths Corrille had dropped on the floor beside the dish. Bronwyn wasn’t usually vindictive, but this had to stop. She seethed. How dare she! What in The Third Realm was she thinking? That bitch. She’ll think Avruellen is a docile milkmaid by the time I’m done with her. Just you wait, Corrille. When you least expect it, expect it.

  When Bronwyn finally sat down, Sinjenasta, tearing at a shoulder of venison in the corner, spoke, What happened? Are you all right?

  Trying to be obtuse, she said, What do you mean? Oh, yes. Bronwyn remembered feelings carried through the bond. There were times you could mask emotions or pain, but she hadn’t been thinking when it happened, and Sinjenasta was in such close proximity that of course he would have felt it. Corrille happened. She handed me a hot plate on purpose and I burnt my fingers.

  Bronwyn spooned some of the vegetables onto her plate, stabbing a potato forcefully before shoving it in her mouth.

  She’s proving to be a real little troublemaker. Would you like me to take care of her?

  Bronwyn turned to look at the panther. You can’t kill her!

  Sinjenasta laughed. I wasn’t going to kill her, just scare her a bit.

  No, it’s okay. I think I should take care of this myself.

  Okay, but if you need any help, just call out. He winked.

  You’re a bad, bad panther, but thanks, Sinje. I’ll be sure to let you know if anyone needs scaring. Bronwyn turned to Avruellen. “When will we start? Will it be straight after dinner?”

  “No. We’ll start just before midnight. I’ll call you before it’s time, and you can meet us outside the
library. From there we’re going to a special room they have here for prayer and rituals. In the meantime, I suggest you relax and get yourself focused. What we’re going to do will be very dangerous.”

  Bronwyn almost rolled her eyes. “Really? You don’t say.”

  “No need to get clever, young lady. The time I don’t say it will be the time something happens.”

  “Stop worrying, Auntie. I know it’s dangerous, but if something’s going to happen, it will, whether you warned me beforehand or not.” Bronwyn wondered how old she would be before Avruellen stopped treating her like a child.

  “One day you’ll wish you had been more careful or more prepared: it’s happened to me before. If we had been more prepared, Augustine wouldn’t have died.” Avruellen suddenly looked all of her hundreds of years. Bronwyn hadn’t realized her aunt still thought about that disaster. She’d assumed Avruellen would have suffered many such losses and would have put it aside, but apparently she hadn’t.

  “Sorry. I’ll be careful—don’t worry.” Bronwyn leaned over and squeezed Avruellen’s shoulder. Bronwyn finished dinner and decided to spend some time outside, where she could relax by listening to the water caressing the shore. Bronwyn took her boots off and walked barefoot through the scratchy coastal grass. Reaching the cool sand, she sighed. Rolling up her tight-fitting trousers, she waded into the water until she was shin-deep.

  The light from the monastery didn’t reach the water and Bronwyn gazed up at an uninterrupted view of the night sky. It looked to her like glass had shattered into a billion tiny fragments on a black marble floor, catching the light and reflecting cold, stark beauty. Although reminded of the symbols in the Second Realm, Bronwyn felt alone—a miniscule spectator unnoticed by the vastness of the realms. She wondered where her mother was and if she missed her.

  “What are you doing?”

  Bronwyn jumped and turned, warmth spreading through her when she saw Toran. “Oh, for the gods’ sakes. You scared me. I was just taking some time to get myself together before the thing we have to do.”

  “The activation, you mean? Don’t worry; Arcon told me all about it.”

  “Why would he do that? Everything we’ve done so far has been super secret. I wasn’t even allowed to tell Corrille.”

  “Maybe he trusts me, and maybe he thinks I can help.” Toran waded in to stand beside Bronwyn, close enough that he could have reached out and held her hand.

  “Hmm, maybe. Anyway, what are you doing out here?” Bronwyn looked straight ahead at the moonlight shining a shimmering path to the horizon. She wished he would reach over and take her hand.

  “I have some exciting news I wanted to share.”

  “Ooh, I love exciting news. What is it?”

  “I told Arcon I wanted to learn how to be a realmist. He placed his hands over my ears, and I felt a warm tingling in my head, and then he said yes. I’m coming with you when you leave.”

  When Bronwyn turned to smile, he was looking at her with a large grin. “It will be so great to have company! Corrille and Blayke have been keeping to themselves lately. It’ll be nice to have someone my age to talk to. I’m glad you’re coming.”

  Bronwyn was happy it was dark and he couldn’t see her blush.

  “Me too.”

  So, what’s going on here?

  Bronwyn jumped for the second time that night. A large shadowy shape—Sinjenasta—stood two feet behind her. She spoke aloud. “Toran has some good news, Sinje. He’s coming with us when we leave.” Toran turned to see who Bronwyn was talking to.

  Sinjenasta’s mind voice was dry. “That’s good news? Hmph. Anyway, it’s time to come in now; I don’t think Avruellen would like it if she knew you were out here, alone, with a strange boy.”

  “He’s not strange!”

  “Who’s not strange?”

  “Sorry, Toran; I was talking to Sinjenasta. He says my aunt wouldn’t like it if I was alone out here with a strange boy, and unfortunately, he’s right. Um, not the strange part. I don’t think you’re strange.”

  “It’s okay,” he said with a laugh, “I’ve been called worse. Come on. I’d hate to get you into trouble.”

  Bronwyn retreated to the library, and the panther followed. A pile of silky, gold-fringed cushions in the corner attracted Bronwyn, and she fell into their softness and folded her arms, glaring at Sinjenasta. “So, spoilsport, what have you been up to?”

  What do you mean ‘spoilsport?’ Sinjenasta sat elegantly in front of her, curling his tail around to lie on his front paws.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. Toran’s nice and it’s the first time I’ve had someone my own age—and species—to talk to for a while.” Bronwyn looked in her creatura’s eyes. “I feel lonely sometimes.”

  Lonely? How can you be lonely with the bond we have, with your aunt here and now your brother?

  “Well, I like knowing you’re around, and I would miss you if you weren’t, but it’s just not the same. I mean, you’re way older than me and you’re a panther. Oh, don’t look so offended!” Bronwyn kneeled and stroked his head. “Sometimes I need a human to talk to—one that isn’t going to tell me what to do and judge me. I know Avruellen loves me, but it’s hard to have fun conversations with her, and Blayke’s busy with my former best friend, in case you’d forgotten.”

  Do I look old?

  “What? No. It’s not like you have gray fur or anything, but I’m figuring you have to be at least a few hundred-years old. Do you want to tell me how old you are?” Sinjenasta shook his head. “I didn’t think so. Anyway, I like Toran; he’s really nice and he’s cute, and I don’t want you messing things up for me. Okay?”

  Sinjenasta narrowed his eyes and let the silence settle for a moment. Hmm, okay, but I’ll be keeping an eye on him. Trust me: you can’t trust young men—they’re all after one thing.

  “And what would that be?” Bronwyn’s raised an eyebrow.

  Hasn’t Avruellen had the talk with you? Never mind. The panther grumbled.

  “Oh, that talk. Can we change the subject?”

  Gladly. Are you ready for tonight?

  “As ready as I could ever be for something unknown.” Bronwyn pushed down the nervousness bubbling inside. “I’m a bit scared, actually. Does that make me a bad realmist?”

  Fear is normal. It means you’ll be careful. Just don’t let it interfere with what you have to do. You must be focused and strong, and make sure you’re not easily distracted. I have a feeling you’ll be tested tonight in a way you haven’t been before. The amulet won’t want to be controlled by a person who is not worthy. Tonight is about proving yourself as much as it’s about surviving the activation.

  “Surviving the activation? Thanks for reminding me.” Another tide of adrenalin washed through her body. “Sinje, if you’re going to stay, do you think you could distract me? Tell me about your family.”

  The panther’s ears twitched while he thought. My family’s long-dead. I can hardly remember them.

  “Was there ever a Missus Panther?”

  Sinjenasta laughed. You could call her that. We had three cubs. They were young when Drakon took me away, but I was able to keep an eye on them as they grew. They had children of their own and so on, but the descendants who are left are so far removed from me that I don’t feel anything towards them.

  “Oh. That’s sad. What was your wife’s name?”

  Arabella. I do think of her sometimes, but not often. It was so long ago.

  “Do you ever get lonely?”

  The panther didn’t answer. He lay down and rested his head on his paws. Bronwyn snuggled next to him and sneezed. “Damn allergy,” she complained and sneezed again. She found comfort next to her big cat so weathered the sneezing. By the time Avruellen came looking for them, they had fallen asleep.

  Sinjenasta sensed the realmist and sat up. Avruellen had to gently shake Bronwyn’s shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead. It’s time.”

  Bronwyn yawned and rose from her position against the panther.<
br />
  “Oh, wow. That time already? Are you sure I’ll be able to do it?”

  “Bronwyn, I’m as sure as I can be. You’re intelligent, you’ve worked hard, and I know you’re determined. I’ve taught you as much as I could, and now you have to trust that we’ve done the work. I think you’ll do fine. Follow me.”

  Bronwyn scrambled to her feet and had to jog to catch Avruellen as she left the library and turned left down a narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor, they followed another left turn. When they reached a staircase, Avruellen walked up. Bronwyn was surprised because she had assumed they would activate the amulets somewhere safe, like a basement.

  A pair of wall torches lit the landing at the top of the stairs, low flames reflected off the polished-gold door handle. Without hesitation, Avruellen opened the door, and they stepped out into a rooftop garden unlike anything Bronwyn had seen before. A lush carpet of grass spread out before them, fringed with topiary fruit trees, flowering vines twined around their trunks. The full moon gifted silvery light to the scene, highlighting buxom lemons, apples, and dark, ripe plomes.

  “Take your boots off, dear,” Avruellen instructed. Bronwyn sat and undid her laces, leaving her shoes next to the door. Standing, Bronwyn felt the coolness of spongy grass under her feet. The musty odor of dirt dampened her nostrils, and the usually-crimson petals of the armin flower—on a vine adorning an apple tree—leached to rust in the cool, empty light. A strange sense of timelessness and decay settled over her, and when she looked at Blayke, Avruellen, and Arcon, who all stood in the center of the otherworldly park, their images shimmered—healthy bodies overlaid with phantoms of bloody carcasses, their waxen skin peeling away like milky scum scraped from a diseased cave wall. Hoping this was not a vision of their futures, she took her position with them and waited.

  Sinjenasta, Flux, and Fang sat together—a few feet from the realmists—and watched.