Darkness Beneath the Dying Light (The City of Shadow & Dust Book 2)

by R. T. Donlon

  “I will gladly leave,” she said, “so I will see you again, Actuano. I am certain of it.”

  Even in the cavernous dark, Kyrah could see the hate-cankered disappointment that tensed the corners of the Warrior’s eyes. There would be no end to this story. She would have to wait for the day the Lost Warriors came looking for her and, only then, would she be able to protect the ones she loved.

  The dagger slowly retreated from the base of her neck, returning to the sheath from which it came.

  “Syra, is the venom diluted?” Actuano directed the question to the girl at Kyrah’s feet.

  “Yes,” said Syra. “The hand wound, however, appears to be infected.”

  Actuano turned his back so that he no longer faced the girl.

  “That is no longer our concern,” he said. “Fourteen steps to your left, twenty-seven to your right, and forty-three to another right turn. It is there you will see the light of your exit. Latvala Anastog will be there waiting for you. You better hurry. He will not be there for much longer.”

  She did not need to be told twice.

  “Kyrah,” Actuano said, still with his back turned. “I will enjoy slitting the throats of all who you love. That day will be sweet.”

  She did not say another word. She took the fourteen, twenty-seven, and forty-three steps up a steepened slope. It was only when she reached level floor did she spot the mouth of the cave opening. She listened, hearing nothing but the wind, but she climbed upward anyway. It was not until she crawled herself to his feet that Latvala spoke.

  “I was beginning to think we lost you,” the Mountain Teacher spoke.

  His calm pride told her he had come out of taerji some time ago.

  “They threatened me—” Kyrah began. Her voice trailed off into broken breaths. Exhaustion clouded her voice. “They told me—”

  “They have threatened us all, Kyrah. We are one in the same—all of the Portizu and the Lost. We are all in search of our greatest powers. The taerji is a dangerous gift, so powerful that most surrender to it and, because of that, we will forever be enemies of them. Taerji is a gift, but also a curse. You must always keep your eyes open and your mind clear. One day, you will be forced to protect your own.”

  Latvala’s eyes traveled from Kyrah’s eyes to her hand, then her ankle.

  “It is unfortunate you allowed me to wound you. I remember the pain of the Eldervarn vividly,” he said. “My Teacher did the same to me.”

  Flashes of the tingling sear bubbled beneath the surface of her skin.

  “It will not go away,” the Mountain Teacher continued, “at least for a few years. Consider it a reminder for what you have experienced here today.”

  Latvala had been correct. For the next several years, the phantom prick of pain would haunt her through long nights, early mornings, and late hunts. She would learn to control its annoying stabs without the help of taerji, however, resisting the desire to fall back into its grasp, yet every time she felt the need to drop into the state, she remembered Actuano’s sinister final words.

  I will enjoy slitting the throats of all who you love. That day will be sweet.

  “Come now,” Latvala said, ushering her to the lip of the peak. “We must get you off this mountain.”

  Slowly, they traversed the rocky landscape until Kyrah’s remaining strength expired. Only then did Latvala raise her into the cradle of his arms and carry her the rest of the way.

  She spent two more weeks in a pallet bed of the Mountain village with Latvala and Fenir by her side. She awoke several times in wild fits of night terrors, screaming to rip the Darkness from her chest, but the Mountain Warriors never questioned her, never let it grow wild in her dreams, and when she eventually opened her eyes, the two of them welcomed her back with renewed vigor. She sensed a new warmth in the Warriors’ voices and understood that all had changed. She had fulfilled Velc’s wishes, satisfied Latvala’s lofty expectations, and in the process, had broken a young apprentice’s heart.

  “I owe you one final gift,” the Mountain Teacher said. In his hands, he held the rough, rose-colored stone of the Mountain caves. “For you, gladly. Return to your people and know that you have been charged with a beautiful gift. Never forget what you have learned here.”

  She did not feel the need to speak. A simple nod seemed acceptable enough.

  The next day, she gave her farewells, bowed to Latvala in minjori, avoided Fenir’s nearly insatiable magnetism, and turned from the Mountains for the final time.

  She vowed never to return.

  Just keep walking, she thought. Don’t turn back.

  Not many stilled to watch Kyrah leave, but she knew Fenir was one of them, watching from a distance with eyes wet, forcing himself not to feel what his heart wanted him to. She wondered if she would ever lay eyes on him again, whether what they had experienced had been something so short-lived it could only be captured in the memories of a girl and boy lost in the ever-set framework of Portizu time.

  “We will meet again,” Fenir whispered. He watched as she disappeared into the jungles. “I will never forget you, Kyrah of the North. I promise you that.”

  And so he kept the memory of her within himself until years later when Fenir would fulfill his promise atop Relu’s Wall, only to lose her for a second time.

  THE SHADOW AND THE TREE (PRESENT)

  This time, it was different.

  Velc had trained her well enough, but nothing could prepare her for even a glimpse of this moment. The Ruganon had pushed her from the Wall and now, she tumbled aimlessly into the sea of Shadows below. She grabbed at the amulet instinctively as she fell and closed her eyes.

  That’s it! she thought. The amulet…

  A pocket of Darkness flooded her chest—the same sphere of Darkness from her taerji trance so long ago. Invisible fingers wrenched at her sternum, pushing heavily against the bone. She had only a moment to breathe, a momentary flicker to think.

  “Do it,” she said to herself.

  Yes, a voice within her pulsed. Do it.

  And, in that moment, she knew she could no longer hide from the Darkness within her.

  She clutched at the shard of rock with nervous fingers and ripped the amulet from her neck. It spun off into the air beside her, lost to the Shadows below.

  Yes! the voice grew stronger.

  The Shadow energy within her took hold, breaking free from her insides and wrapping the surface of her skin with twisting, black vines.

  It was now or never.

  “Fight it,” she whispered to herself.

  Something within her cracked violently, snapping like a thousand tree branches breaking simultaneously.

  Freedom, the voice inside of her persisted. No more worrying, Kyrah. The pain will leave you soon.

  And then, as if her mind needed her to know, the faces of everyone she had ever loved flickered across the plain of her memories.

  Her father—his quiet grin and grisly charm.

  Her mother—strong silence and elegance.

  Fenir—bound by intimacy.

  Latvala—finding strength in the calm.

  And Velc—standing true in the Portizu sunlight with his mouth tied tightly to the wrinkles in his eyes.

  “It is not enough to fight,” he said. “You must become one with the force inside of you.”

  Even as the ground closed in around her, the words seemed to take on new meaning—a clarity transcending the old ways of thought—and opening into a new identity, a new self. This way—her way—was not the way of the Warrior Elite.

  This was the way of the Shadow Warrior.

  “The Shadow Warrior forges a new path,” she said, “one never before traveled.”

  Her body shattered against the Shadow cloud at the base of the Wall, colliding with a hard thud at the ground. She could not move, only enough energy to blink away the tears. The Shadows rushed in around her, consuming her until she could no longer breathe.

  “The Shadow Warrior forges a new path,” she groa
ned, “one never before traveled.”

  The pain reverted her back to her training—lost in a void of thickening air and blurred vision—but now, a sort of reassurance broke through the cracks of darkness. She burrowed herself deep into taerji just as the cloud of Shadows funneled into a cyclonic spin above her and pushed down into her throat. The lives of a thousand merciless Shadows entered her, expanding the black vines twisting deeper into every vein, every artery. It immersed every fiber, every cell of her being until she appeared unrecognizable, trapped in a Shadow-Light mind too far gone to side with either.

  Quietly, she sat up, crouching against the Wall.

  “Kyrah! Where are you? Kyrah!”

  She slid across the dirt like an animal—rigid, twitchy, and wild. She could hear the distant cries of the Prophet calling out for her, but she paid no attention to it. She wished for only blood now. She wished only for pain.

  This version of Kyrah was nothing but Dark, filled with the thoughts, the powers, the evils of a thousand Shadows.

  We are too strong, the voice continued. Taerji can help you hide, but not for long.

  She heard the voice, but chose to ignore it. Deeper she fell into the trance until she reached that place in her core where she had defeated the Darkness the first time, but there was nothing but emptiness and shattered glass there now.

  She dove further.

  The wretched movements of her body flittered away from her senses. She could no longer feel the spasms, the lock of joints, nor did she want to. It didn’t matter anyway. She was no longer in control of any of it.

  “You have won,” she whispered to herself. She ran through her thoughts, thinking of anything that could help her now, but she thought of nothing.

  The body—not the mind—is only one part of the whole, Velc’s distant voice spoke to her. Separation is never the end.

  Those words, like so many times before, seemed to comfort her enough to persist, so she pushed even further into the base of her consciousness, not knowing where she was going, somewhere so deep she barely recognized the black of it all.

  “Hello?” she called.

  The word barely made it from her lips as if it had been muffled through a pillow.

  She pushed further but felt a violent click. The void shook around her.

  Welcome to where I have been, a familiar voice whispered, all of these years.

  She attempted to push inward a second time and was met with the same quaking click.

  There is nowhere else to go, Kyrah. This is your center, where your taerji first formed.

  She scanned the void, looking for anything to orient her weightless body to the new space. No Dark sphere hovered here, no glass walls, just empty voided space.

  Think, Kyrah, the voice continued. What do you remember?

  She closed her eyes and attempted to drive her mind back to reality, but she failed.

  “Why can’t I remember?” she asked.

  Because you were never taught the dangers. I learned them a long time ago.

  Kyrah said nothing. She could not find it within herself to project.

  I have been waiting for this moment…all of these years, lost here. The thought of ever leaving seemed so far away, but then you broke through, Kyrah. You met me halfway.

  She focused so inwardly that sweat dribbled down her forehead.

  “The Mountains,” she whispered. “The Lost Warriors.”

  I was trapped for so long and then…you opened the door.

  Kyrah hunched at the waist, suddenly nauseous.

  Taerji only works if it can be controlled. I tried for so long to break through your mind, but here, nothing can be controlled.

  Out of the hidden crevices of her mind, a slight buzzing noise surfaced. It grew—slowly—until there was nothing but the noise. It consumed her, changed her, then began to break her.

  “Stop!” she yelled. “Please, stop!

  You’ve grown since then, the voice said.

  It strengthened its tone behind every spoken word. The buzzing in her head intensified, erupting into another set of quakes.

  “Whatever this place is, it is dying. We have to get out.”

  A piercing wail broke through the noise. Kyrah fell to her side, pressing fingers into her ears.

  We? There is no ‘we’. How many times did you leave me here alone? How many times did I beg you to set me free? You ignored me, Kyrah. You left me here to die alone. No. I found my own way. You must do the same.

  The buzzing lessened enough for a single memory to emerge—the image of a child awestruck by the claw of a looming Shadow. She pushed herself to her feet, gritting her teeth to push through the pain.

  “You tried to kill me! Did you expect me to have compassion for something like you?”

  Every action has consequences, Kyrah. Even actions of an innocent girl years ago. Not many of your kind have ever made it to adulthood.

  “I am Portizu,” she managed to say.

  No. You’re a halfling—half Dark, half Light, everything you have ever been terrified of lives deep inside of you.

  “No,” she whispered. “Not true.”

  Ah, but it is! How do you think I have lived in you for all of these years? How do you explain what is happening now with your body…out there?

  Kyrah’s voice no longer possessed any sort of recognition. Instead, the words seemed to just dribble from her mouth like strings of wasted saliva.

  You are a vessel of the Shadows, a girl of the Darkness. You have fought this your entire life, praying to some abandoned god that you were somehow normal, that your mind was somehow playing tricks on you, but now that I have won, it is time you accept the gravity of your situation. You have always been, and always will be, destined to the will of the Darkness.

  The single Shadow had grown into a droning hive—thousands of molecular swirls swarming cyclically around an almost indecipherable spark of golden-hued Light.

  This is what is left of your Light, girl. Once it is extinguished, you will see the true purpose of the Shadows and you will join us in the return of—

  “Brax,” she whispered. “He’s coming.”

  Instinctively, as she had so many times before, she reached for the amulet, but it was not there. Even deep within her unimaginable state of taerji, the amulet was gone, cast away.

  “The amulet is gone,” the voice continued. “You have nothing left…but me.”

  “No,” Kyrah spoke.

  The Darkness in front of her—nearly impossible to see against the backdrop of the intense black void—noticeably swiveled into a rigid descent, creating a strange broken wavelength of screeching sound. Pressed to her back, the heat of breath caressed her shoulder. She dared not turn to meet whatever it was. Instead, she remained motionless against its eerie, choppy breathing.

  “Nothing has the power of the amulet,” the Shadow screeched, searing deeper into her mind. “What else can rein the power of attar?”

  She kept calm and closed her eyes. She allowed her raging heart to slow, to shake the fear from its pulse. Only inches separated the girl from the monster opposite her.

  “Not what,” she whispered, “but who.”

  The Darkness screeched louder.

  “None shall match the power of the Darkness!” it bellowed.

  “If you wish to take me,” she spoke, “then I am yours. Just do it.”

  She envisioned the attar medallion resting against her neckline. She thought of the glow—that strange red hue emanating from her skin. Her father’s voice whispered to her as clear as a gentle breeze.

  This will keep you safe, Kyrah, he said. It holds more power than you can know.

  “But it doesn’t,” she mumbled.

  The Shadows condensed, then pulsed outward erratically at the sight of the brightening spark at its core. The monster could feel a sense of clarity in the girl, the surfacing of a new idea she had never known before. The spark brightened even more before splitting into a thousand glittering stars, immersing th
e Dark hive in gold. The amulet had never been a true energy source, as she had always thought. Yes, it had repelled the Dark forces for all of these years, but it had never done it on its own. It had always drawn energy from within her—the Light, the god-strength.

  When you are ready, Velc’s voice echoed through her, you will know what to do.

  And then, she knew.

  With a snap of energy, a beam of black dust shot through the space between them and punctured Kyrah’s chest. She gasped for air as it began to overwhelm her, panicked her. It slithered and crawled and clawed at her insides—black and oily and slippery through her veins, deep into her bones, seeping into muscle.

  This was the moment she had failed so many times in her training. This time she would not.

  It’s over,” the hive voice spoke. There is nothing left.

  The black of her taerjic mind dissolved into a flat expanse of sand—a nighttime desert that stretched far into the horizon, as far as her eyes could take her. She was standing awkwardly against a particular decline of a dune. Sprouting by her right foot grew a vivaciously green flower bud—strong and decent against the eerie glow of her spark-stars. Kyrah smiled at the sight of it.

  “It’s so dark here,” she whispered to it, “but you…you are so…alive.”

  She knelt down beside the flower and held beside her an outstretched hand. The flower returned the gesture, reaching the smallest tendril toward her.

  “It’s okay,” Kyrah whispered. “Take my hand.”

  The tendril moved a little closer.

  The stars above her flickered wildly.

  Closer the tendril reached.

  Another wild flicker.

  “I always wanted more for you, little one,” Kyrah whispered, “but until now, I never knew how.”

  It’s time, the Shadow said. Say goodbye.

  Her skin melted into tar, leaving no surface uncovered. The budding sapling wilted slightly.

  “Do not worry,” Kyrah whispered. “All will be well.”

  The tendril continued to reach forward until it made contact with the skin of Kyrah’s finger. The Shadow vines withdrew, shrinking while the plant at her feet thickened and sprouted. The buzzing lessened and, with the deadening of it, she regained the movement in her arms and felt the warmth of energy return to her chest.