Dark Age

by Felix O. Hartmann

  After class, Cecilia walked me to the door.

  “Today was incredible,” I said, taking note of every turn I took.

  “It is a lot less engaging when you sit there by yourself,” she commented.

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “Maybe,” she teased. “If I feel like seeing you again, I’ll just send Anthony to get you out of bed.”

  “So you can request me whenever you want, how do I reach you?” I asked.

  “You don’t.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” she said, “Unless you are a princess.”

  As we walked down the red corridor, her steps slowed.

  “Want to walk with me a bit?” I asked. “Don’t worry you can leave before we get to the Works, I don’t want you to have a heart attack.”

  “Not today,” she said, shying away from the door. “I’ve never really been out there.”

  I was no longer surprised to hear her say that. Gently I took her by the wrist, “Come, Let me show you a few things around the city.”

  “No,” she said sharply, before catching herself and forcing a smile. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Goodbye, Adam.”

  “As you say, milady,” I curtsied. “I hope to join you again.” I looked at her for a moment and walked out the door. I was beginning to feel the layout of the Mansion. With a few more visits I would be able to find my way through the maze on my own.

  Back at the carpentry Katrina waited outside the house with her arms crossed. The moment I was within arm’s reach, she slapped me across the face. “You have never missed a morning mass without telling me! I thought something had happened!” she said. “But I see you prefer spending your time with the Inquisitor’s ward.”

  I wasn’t interested in arguing, “I am sorry.”

  She turned away sharply and walked to a basket sitting on the table. “My father wants us to get materials and then stop by Robert’s house.” She handed it to me and said, “It’s a present; he had a son born today.”

  We left the carpentry and headed north. Soon, the Craftsmen houses turned into the dilapidated barracks inhabited by the industrials. A foul smell of unwashed bodies and dirt lay in the air, almost strong enough to be tasted. The shouting, tools, and moving feet, created a cloud of noise in this part of town that only ceased hours after the sun set.

  In front of us loomed the lumber mill, seemingly on the verge of collapse. Windows were broken and the walls were crumbling, yet it had stood for years. Katrina banged on the door loud enough to be heard through the deafening noises from within. A bald man, old yet strong, stepped out of the door and greeted us. With little words he led us inside. Many of his sons and even daughters prepared the wood in an assembly line. One son, judging from his age had already returned from the Guard, held a big saw in his hand with which he cut whole tree branches into various lengths. Another, just my age with brown curly hair carried them to the storage room. The girls on the other hand sat hunched over at a table. Two were removing the bark from fresh wood while the others rasped the swarf off the cut wood. They stopped for a second as we entered and observed us. Somewhat ashamed they looked down avoiding eye contact.

  “Well ya need somethin dark ya said. I only got walnut here for ya but that stuff ain’t easy to work with lemme tell ya. And it ain’t cheap either. Only got a little left for ya,” the man said. “But I can sell ya some white oak. It’s much cheaper and ya can paint it. It’s even easier to work with, and I swear the guy ain’t gonna notice.”

  “Thank you for the suggestion,” Katrina said, “We will take the oak then, how much would that be?”

  “Ah, lemme think. Let’s say 50, ya can pick it up tomorrow” the man responded.

  “Let’s make it 75,” Katrina said. “Get those girls a nice dinner tonight.”

  The man was baffled and uncertain what to say. The sudden smile that crept onto his face was a good enough response for us. In the Merchant District we were the uneducated malnourished worker children. But here we were nobility. Everything was relative.

  They wished us farewell and we departed for Robert’s home, deep in the industrial district. Passing the flour mill, the miller greeted us friendly; even him we had to help get through the winter last year.

  The air around the smelter was hot, thick and full of smoke. Robert and his wife stood in the doorway with the baby in her arms. Robert was rather intimidating by nature. His large muscular body could scare anyone off, which allowed him to make some extra money as a Merchant District night guard. He was the one that let us in and out during our heists for a share of the profit. Seeing us now, his whole complexion lit up, turning the intimidating warrior into a welcoming friend.

  “He is beautiful,” Katrina said with gleaming eyes upon seeing the newborn. “What is his name?”

  “Seth,” Robert said proudly. “I am so glad to see you two.”

  “It is a pleasure. Eric prepared this for you,” I said handing him the basket. I waved to his other sons who were inside, not daring to catch a break from work.

  “When are you two going to try it?” His wife asked.

  “I want to wait till after the Guard,” I said caressing the few hairs on Seth’s head. I could sense Katrina’s disappointment. “I don’t want to miss ten years of my child’s life.”

  “I don’t know my friend, you better lock this beauty down,” Robert poked at me. “A kid will keep her busy while you’re gone.”

  Seth clutched my index finger with his hands and looked at me. His eyes, colored in such an innocent deep blue, had not yet seen much of the world. He was pure, and yet born into a corrupted world filled with pain. His path didn’t offer him any options, and yet he shone with optimism. I saw hope in him.

  “I guess we’ll see. But there is something I need to do first.”

  Chapter 6

  It was the night of the break-in. Nearly three months had passed since Robert’s son Seth was born. I visited Cecilia more often, to join her classes and get to know her and the Inquisitor better. Other than that my life had been routine.

  “I want you two to be careful, you understand,” Eric said while I pulled a black sweater over my head. “If anything goes wrong, you always abort. Your safety comes first, are we clear?”

  “Yes, Eric crystal clear, now hand me the charcoal please,” I responded bothered by his pep talk.

  “Get in, get out. Unseen is unscathed.” Eric stood above us wringing his hands. Katrina and I busily darkened our skin with charcoal. In the shadows we’d be invisible, and so long as we didn’t touch anything, we’d leave no trace. There was no real danger in it. After all, most of the merchants had never even noticed that their things were gone.

  I carefully rubbed my hands with the charcoal and darkened my face. Looking in a mirror I made certain that no skin was left visible. Our light skins were too easily spotted in the darkness without any cover. If we failed to hide our identities, we would be hung the next day.

  Eric and I used to do the break-ins, when Katrina was younger. As both aged, Katrina became the more agile one, taking Eric’s spot. Despite his consent, I could see the terror in his eyes every time we left. It was no different that time.

  While I fixed Katrina’s jacket, Eric gave us our last instructions. Every full hour past ten o’clock, night patrols walked through the streets to make sure that everyone was in their homes. We left shortly after midnight and planned to make it back before one o’clock, avoiding both patrol shifts.

  Following my lead we sneaked down the road to the Merchant District. Tiny snowflakes trickled from the sky and filled the streets that had been cleared that very morning. I stopped in the shadow of the masonry, a safe distance from the gate where Robert and his partner stood unchanged, blocking the entrance.

  “You think the midnight patrol is gone?” asked the other guard.

  “By now they should, the streets are clear,” Robert said glancing over to both sides. “Seems like no one w
as out, we can lean back now.”

  The other guard removed a flask from his belt and popped the lid open. Holding it close to his nose he inhaled the stinging scent of alcohol with a relieved face. Suspiciously he peered over at Robert.

  “No worries old friend, we all need a good drink once in a while,” Robert reassured. “Here, try this,” he unbuckled his own flask handing it over to the other guard, “it’s some heavy liquor, don’t drink it all at once.”

  “I am sure I have had stronger,” he said before taking a large gulp. With a wimpy cough he remarked, “Damn, not bad that stuff. It’s sweet and burns right in your throat.” He handed the half empty container back to Robert, and luxuriously leaned back against the gate’s walls. Smacking his lips, he caught a few droplets of the liquor with his tongue.

  Katrina got anxious, “Why is Robert taking so long? We have less than fifty minutes to get in and out.”

  “Watch,” I said pointing at his partner, who had dozed off. Quickly I peered down the vacant street and rushed over into the gate.

  “What did you do to him?” Katrina asked.

  “One of my sons helps out in the hospital, I told him to get me some of their tranquilizers. Those herbs work wonders,” he said with a chuckle. “Now go! Try to be back here in half an hour. I don’t want you to run into the one o’clock guard, and this one isn’t going to sleep forever.”

  “Thank you Robert,” I said observing his passed out partner. “Remember to sound the signal whistle if anything happens.”

  Carefully we moved on with our heels in the air, leaving no tracks and yet advancing in a brisk pace. At one point we seemingly levitated over the boulevard. At this hour the streets were vacant and most of the torches had burned down or been extinguished by the snow.

  We were enclosed in complete darkness, which was a blessing and a curse. No one could see us, even if they were standing just a few feet away. Yet it slowed us at a time where every minute counted.

  Once we located the house of the merchant, I retrieved the key from my belt. Cautiously I looked around. The exuberant silence of the sleeping district made me nervous. Some people were deep sleepers; others could be awoken by any sound. When taking measurements months ago, I was able to understand the location but I never got to know the people and their habits. I waited, unsure if the clicking of the turning key would disturb anyone in the merchant’s family.

  “Let’s go Adam, we cannot take forever,” Katrina said.

  I inserted the untested key and hoped for the best. With closed eyes and a slightly trembling hand I turned until the lock jumped open. From now on there had to be dead silence.

  Entering the house, every sound, creak, and breath seemed like a violent explosion of noise in the innocently silent house. Now and then I froze, listening for movement upstairs. It seemed like I had stopped breathing as the only thing that reached my ears was my own heartbeat.

  I spotted the glass cabinet in the living room immediately. The faint moonlight reflected in its surface through the window with a bluish tint. Lifting the bolt, I opened the front of the cabinet and gave Katrina directions. I decided that we could take four chalices at most, yet should not leave any gaping holes in the arrangement. Decisively I pointed at the corners in the very back and showed her the number two.

  It was a dauntingly slow yet nerve wracking task. Our arms extended into the cabinet with only the sense of touch to guide them. If a single chalice were to tip over, a chain reaction would ensue, waking the entire house. As I secured my second chalice in the bag, I waited on Katrina to retrieve the last.

  That moment my ears recognized something else. Besides our breaths and our heartbeats another set of noises had risen. Footsteps. Katrina had not noticed them yet, still focusing on the chalice. I tried to gesticulate a warning but all she took it for was to make her hurry up. I wanted to tell her but I could not. They would have heard me. Why was she taking so long? My heartbeat was racing louder and louder. There was no way of controlling it now. So many thoughts passed through my mind and yet I was standing idly at her side.

  The footsteps closed in on us. Blood shot up into my head and I could feel the veins in my temples throb. I should not, and I could not, but I did. My right hand grabbed the stiletto that was secured underneath my right pant leg above my ankle. It was illegal for a commoner to carry or own weapons, but being the son of the blacksmith had its advantages.

  My hands were shaking more and more with every heartbeat, as the footsteps descended the stairs that led into the entrance hall adjacent to the living room. With my back against the wall and the steal clung in my palm I waited for the merchant. Katrina finally pulled the chalice out of the cabinet and placed it into the bag beside her. Quickly she closed and bolted the glass door. Turning around her face filled with terror as she saw me holding the dagger. The moment she recognized the footsteps, she grabbed the bag and hid behind a bookshelf across from me. The spot allowed her to peak at the entrance of the living room next to me and yet kept her concealed in darkness.

  The feet of the stranger had hit the ground. So often had I challenged the existence of God, and yet I found myself praying; praying that they would not find us; Praying that the person would leave; Praying that I did not have to kill whoever came down the stairs. My eyes sought guidance in Katrina’s but they were covered by the cloak of night.

  I was on my own. My left index finger went up and down the blade of the stiletto hoping that it would lead to a quick death.

  The steps were not moving towards the kitchen as I had hoped, but were approaching the living room. Katrina became uneasy. In five seconds I would need to make a decision. I took one last deep breath and aimed for his heart.

  Now. I lunged around the corner ramming my dagger into the unknown darkness. Faintly Katrina cried out to stop me, but it was too late.

  The blade was clean and struck nothing but air. Below it stood a little boy gazing up into my darkened face.

  My throat tightened. He saw me, I thought, or did he? Uncertainty pushed its own dagger through my heart. I could not kill the boy. I was no murderer, nor could I harm an innocent child. My whole body started shaking while I carefully stepped away from the boy. Even if he did not recognize my face, he could start screaming any second.

  Katrina grabbed my hand and put the bag in it. She shot me an intense look before she knelt down in front of the boy. “You are dreaming little one,” she said in a soft voice, “go back to sleep.”

  This might have worked if her face was not colored like the skin of a monster by the charcoal. The boy’s eyes squinted and his cheeks started to tense. He was going to scream any second. Against my will, my hands clenched the stiletto again, ready to pierce the boy’s heart.

  Upon the first sound Katrina grabbed the boy’s neck and pressed into its side. Drowned in silence the child fell forward into her arms with his legs twitching. Carefully she laid the small body onto the floor.

  The image sickened me to the stomach. I should have killed him in her place. Forcefully I grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her upright, “We can’t just leave him here! What have you done?”

  “Adam there is no time for this,” she said as our faces almost touched. “Run!”

  I hesitated for a moment but then followed her lead, bolting to the entrance. We silently shut the door and sprinted down the boulevard. It did not matter if anybody heard us now. By the time they would rise from their beds and walk to their windows we would be back in the Craftsman District.

  With short painful breaths we passed Robert and his drunken friend. He knew there was danger, and idly stood there without moving or asking any questions.

  The bell of the big church rung once, signifying the passing of an hour. One o’clock. Within seconds the patrols would be all over the streets.

  The carpentry was in sight. The first footsteps emerged down another alley. My hand reached for the doorknob and turned, hoping it to be unlocked. I ripped open the door and pushed Katrina in. My h
ouse was just a minute sprint away.

  “Stay here,” she said holding me by the arm. “They will be here any second”

  Torches lit up down the street accompanied by the dark voices of men.

  “Just for tonight, please,” she begged, pulling me inside her house.

  Once the door shut we fell into each other’s arms, with sighs of relieve. We stood there for eternity it seemed before I pulled her face close to mine and stared into her hazel eyes, “Why did you kill that boy?” I asked. “I am leaving for the Guard, I have nothing to lose. You should have let me do it.”

  “If I had waited for you, he would have woken up the entire district,” she said. “It had to be done.”

  Bitterly I looked down. It was my fault. I should have done it the first time without hesitation.

  “On a side note,” she said, “who said I killed the boy?”

  I took a step back and looked at her incredulously, “But…”

  “I stunned him. Eric taught me how to use pressure points to disable an attacker,” she said enjoying the perplexed look on my face. “I am a girl, I need to be able to protect myself, silly.”

  My heart stopped pounding rapidly for the first time since we had left. Relieved I closed my eyes and relished the moment. Gently Katrina put a kiss on my lips, took me by the hand and led me into her room.

  Chapter 7

  “Stand still,” my father said, measuring my shoulders. A month had passed since the break-in, and the time had come for the blacksmith to make the armor I would wear in the Guard. In my case, my own father had to fulfill this task. It was a rather strange occasion. We passed very few words, and yet it had to be done.

  Once the measurements were taken, we went through each piece of the armor one after the other. The shoulder protectors alone had to be reshaped seven times for maximum mobility and protection. The plating was done so intricately that it would still fit even if my body were trained to twice the size. My forearm protectors were next.