Light in the Darkness

by CJ Brightley

  Dominic looked down at the barely visible stone circle. The crystal posts glinted faintly in the dark.

  “I thought ley lines were everywhere,” he whispered.

  “The strong ones aren’t,” Ardhuin whispered back. “And they move. Usually with the moon, which is another reason I wanted to wait.”

  With his other sight, Dominic saw the magic start to flow from Ardhuin about the stone dial, looking as if it were probing for entry. Then it was in, and the crystals glowed with contained magic.

  “That should do it. Look up,” Ardhuin said softly.

  The enclosure now had a dome of magic, and across the surface he could just make out faint lines, rough and wide, that converged in the same direction as the hill.

  The magic faded, and darkness returned.

  “It’s a good thing I checked,” Ardhuin said, leading the way out. “That big strong line is right over the path I was going to use. You would have been heavily exposed. This way,” she said softly, as they clambered up the steep hill. The path was different from the one they had used to find the boy.

  The darkness was thick, like felt, absorbing even the slightest light. Sometimes Ardhuin had to summon tiny little glowing lights, magical fireflies, that skimmed the ground before them so they could see their way.

  “Won’t this take more time?” Dominic asked, panting. They seemed to be going almost over the top, and he was already tiring.

  “It’s the clearest way. Any other path would bring us across a ley line. Are you feeling the effects?”

  He could see the darker shadow ahead of him, could tell her head was turned towards him.

  “I can see more,” he said. “It’s starting.” The magical light actually helped; Ardhuin no longer needed to conjure fireflies for him. Any fatigue he felt was overcome by fear and the need to get away from the hill as soon as he could.

  So many rocks, so many steep inclines. They had to lift their bags ahead, then clamber after them. Every time he took Ardhuin’s hand, he steeled himself against any overwhelming sensation, but it remained bearable. For now. No doubt it helped that they both wore gloves. The touch of skin would—no, he shouldn’t think of that.

  How long had they been climbing? At last the slope changed, but now it was steeply downhill instead of up, and Dominic discovered this simply made it easier to fall. He had to climb backwards, chafing at the slowness of their progress, but he could not risk injury.

  His hands were cold even through his gloves, and the length of the greatcoat kept getting in his way. Every spare moment, he strained to see Ardhuin. He could hear her, her labored breathing, the slip of her foot on loose gravel, the thump of the valise she carried when she shifted it to climb.

  What was driving her? What secret could force her to undertake such a dangerous journey, when even she did not know what waited at the other end?

  His foothold shifted as he transferred his weight, and before he could shift, he found himself falling, slamming hard against a boulder before coming to rest against a bush with hard, sharp twigs.

  “Dominic!” Ardhuin screamed in a whisper. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

  He moved cautiously. “Just bruised, I think. Where…oh.” He could see her outline against the sky, even some strands of curling hair that had escaped from her exertions. Of course she was wearing that damnable hat, so he couldn’t see the curve of her cheek, the….

  Dominic drew a sharp breath, his heart hammering. “Perhaps you should stay there. It isn’t light yet, is it?”

  “No, it’s still pitch dark.”

  He got gingerly to his feet, wincing when he put his full weight on them. His right leg did not feel at all well. “I need to get off this hill immediately,” he gritted through clenched teeth, hobbling forward. He carefully bent to pick up his bag.

  “It’s not much farther. Let me help you, you’re limping.”

  “No!” He stumbled backwards, away from her approach, and nearly fell again. “That…would not be a good idea.”

  “Oh.” Ardhuin hesitated, shifting her feet, then started down the hill again, looking behind her every few steps to see if he was following. He wasn’t sure if she could see anything, but she stopped after only a short distance. “If you don’t move, I’ll come and get you,” she said.

  Dominic forced himself into motion, ignoring the small voice that urged him to stay still and wait for her, to let her get closer. Instead, he used it to motivate himself to follow as quickly as he could.

  His leg was stiff and sore, making it excruciatingly painful to climb down. He almost collapsed with relief when Ardhuin found a real path the rest of the way. It still hurt to walk, but he was not in constant danger of falling again.

  The path eventually led to open countryside and fields edged in hedgerows. He realized there was a distinct brightening on one edge of the horizon. It wasn’t entirely magic he was seeing by, now.

  Dominic took a deep breath. The air was cool and clear but not intoxicating, carrying the scent of the outdoors and nothing else. Perhaps he had escaped the worst effects.

  Ardhuin was waiting for him, the veiling of the hated hat pulled back. He realized he was staring at her and decided he had not escaped the effects of the ley lines as completely as he had thought. Every detail of her face, the line of her jaw, the way her lips curved, fascinated him. He could gaze forever and never tire.

  She was looking at him with an expression of concern.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Very well,” Dominic lied, his voice constrained. “My leg is a trifle sore, but nothing to signify.”

  “I’m going to try some magic,” she said. “You must tell me if you have any adverse reaction to it.”

  He closed his eyes, resolved not to say a word even if it was agony, but he couldn’t help twitching when he felt the power touch him. It did feel uncomfortable, in a too-tight, wool-on-skin itchy way, but it was bearable.

  He opened his eyes and saw a little old country woman in front of him, shoulders bent with age. Her face was as wrinkled as a withered apple and what he could see of her hair under a black bonnet was snow white, but her eyes were bright and sky blue. She carried a large wicker basket covered by a checkered napkin.

  That was what his regular sight told him was there. In the same place, hidden by magic, was the greater height of Ardhuin, as straight as the old woman was bent. He glanced down, staring in wonder. Instead of the greatcoat he wore a patched wool jacket. He extended his arms and saw rough, twisted hands, one holding a hamper that had exactly the same weight as his bag. He touched one hand with the other and felt his own smooth skin.

  “How do you do that?” Dominic asked in awe.

  “I’ve always been able to do illusion,” Ardhuin croaked. The old woman’s face creased deeper with a smile. “It comes naturally to me. We should keep moving. Now that it is light, they might notice us standing here and become suspicious.”

  Well. If they were being watched, they should act their parts. Dominic took a deep breath and offered the old woman the support of his own aged arm.

  Ardhuin took it, carefully, and they continued on to Baranton, just visible in the distance.

  “I hope you do not mind the inconvenience,” she said in her creaky old-woman’s voice.

  “I have always wanted adventure,” Dominic replied. His voice sounded the same as always to him.

  Ardhuin smothered a laugh.

  The next stage of their trip, by train, was decidedly more ordinary. Dominic was glad to be able to sit and let his injured leg rest, although Ardhuin had mentioned his limp added an authentic touch to his illusioned appearance as an old man.

  The illusions were dropped once they were on the train to Rennes and unobserved.

  “Too much iron about,” Ardhuin said with a grimace when he asked why. “I could do it if I had to, but it would take a great deal of effort to no purpose.” She spoke very low, and Dominic did not dare ask any of the remaining questions he had. To conserve fun
ds, they traveled in the second class compartment, which became more and more crowded the closer the train got to the capital.

  When they got to Rennes they visited Ardhuin’s bank, then started on the journey to Gaul. They still needed to get visas for travel to Preusa, but they decided it would be safer to obtain them in Parys.

  At the border between Gaul and Bretagne, Ardhuin performed another minor illusion, on their passports, to support the story of their assumed identities as cousins traveling for pleasure. After making sure Dominic did not show up in the list of licensed magicians, the officials examining the passports did not raise any objections. Considering the soldiers on both sides of the border, Dominic was quite glad.

  “You could do the same for the visas,” Dominic murmured when they were back on the train and their compartment was temporarily empty. “We wouldn’t have to risk going to the consulate.”

  “I have to know what they look like first,” she pointed out. She seemed worried. “Are there always so many soldiers at the border?”

  Dominic had never had the means to travel before, so he could not say. “I imagine every country with a border with Gaul guards it well, considering their history,” Dominic pointed out. She nodded, but looked even more worried.

  More people returned and could be seen in the corridor, and she lowered the veil on the shadow hat. Dominic sighed. She was right to be cautious, he knew. But he had the feeling she would have done the same thing if her life were not in danger.

  Their compartment filled up again, restricting their conversation. Ardhuin seemed disinclined to talk, so he looked out the window at the dreary winter countryside. Occasionally, the ruins of a war-torn town interrupted the view. One still had a pale, flickering glow of magic about the shattered walls, and Dominic shuddered, feeling ill. This had been the scene of some of the major battles of the Mage War, and Gaul still had not completely recovered. He wondered what the spell had been, and how it could possibly still be active more than thirty years after the war had ended.

  Wrenching his gaze away, Dominic took out his writing materials and got to work. It would take his mind away from the depressing view outside.

  More importantly, he needed to be productive—and to produce something more profitable than his previous stories if he were ever to hope to support a wife. Undoubtedly, that would be the first question her father would ask. He’d already sent a letter to an acquaintance at the Université Dinan, asking if he knew a biologist named Andrews who had worked in Yunwiya and how to contact him. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  The trip was long. They arrived in Parys too late to attempt any business. In fact, they were lucky to find rooms at a tiny, unpretentious hotel near the station.

  The noise of arriving and departing travelers and a lumpy mattress prevented Dominic from getting much sleep, but eventually he dozed off. He woke with a start, suddenly aware that light was visible behind the age-browned paper shades of his window.

  He rushed to get dressed, wondering why Ardhuin had not woken him. He tapped at the door of her room, but there was no response. He began to really worry. What if something had happened to her? He went back to his room, wondering what he should do, and saw a piece of paper on the floor inside just as he stepped on it.

  I must run an errand, the note said. Wait for me. A.

  The handwriting was familiar; the same he had seen in his gardening instructions. Waiting, he had time enough to come up with a number of horrific possibilities for her sudden departure, and since he dared not leave for fear of missing her return, hunger was soon added to his difficulties. The minutes dragged by. At least she had left a note.

  A soft knock on his door propelled him from his chair to open it, and he sagged in relief to see Ardhuin standing there.

  “Where did you go?” he said in an urgent undervoice. “I would have been glad to go with you.”

  She shrugged. “I wanted to go early, before the crowds start. Just…something I wanted to get here.” Dominic could not see her face because of the magical shadows, but he had learned enough of her voice to make him suspect she was not being completely truthful. “I found a directory listing the consulates at the hotel desk,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  Parys, being the capital, was in better repair than the towns they had passed through on the way. Dominic took it in with delight. His primary worry now relieved, he could revel in the unaccustomed sensation of being a traveler. With every recognized landmark or famous building, his satisfaction increased. A small stall on their way provided him with breakfast in the form of a sweet roll, as well as a newspaper.

  Ardhuin was less interested, even though she, too, had never been to Parys before. She seemed tense, especially if they encountered people on their way.

  “You are concerned they may have followed us?” he asked in a quiet tone. “They would have to be desperate indeed to attack in daylight, in public, especially here. The laws against unsanctioned magic are quite severe.”

  “A pity they didn’t have those laws before Guedoc came to power,” Ardhuin said, but his words appeared to have cheered her a little. “Look, there’s the consulate. They don’t really require a sign, do they? Those uniforms are identification enough.”

  The guards were indeed resplendently uniformed in the bright blue of Preusa. Although not many sought entry, the limited hours meant that several individuals waited with them.

  Dominic checked his documents to make sure Ardhuin’s earlier illusion had been removed, and waited. They retained the ‘cousin’ story, despite Ardhuin’s foreign last name. Dominic claimed to be escorting her on an impulsive side trip to visit an old school friend. The consular official asked an impressive list of questions, the answers to which were carefully noted down.

  Visas were reluctantly granted, although they were stringently warned about the consequences of violating any of the numerous regulations concerning the importation of forbidden devices or substances.

  “I wonder why they were so nervous, not to mention suspicious,” said Ardhuin after they had left the consulate. “Bretagne and Preusa have always been friendly, and they were allied with Atlantea during our Liberation.”

  “There are rumors of tensions between Preusa and Ostri,” Dominic said, indicating the newspaper. “They are probably worried that Gaul may try to take advantage of any trouble. I doubt they were concerned about us.”

  It was a fine, clear day, but a chill breeze kept all but the hardiest indoors. With the delay in getting their visas, they would not be able to leave for Preusa until the next morning. As they wandered about the city, Dominic tried in vain to interest Ardhuin in any of the couturier's establishments they encountered. The only shops he could persuade her to enter were those selling books.

  He stifled a small sigh, abandoning his never-robust first plan for the removal of the shadow hat, but soon forgot his disappointment scanning the shelves.

  He looked up and found Ardhuin absorbed in a thick, leather-bound book with color plates.

  “It’s a new translation of La Travaille de Fayre, with illustrations by Monterillo,” she said, showing him. “This was my favorite book when I was small; I must have read it fifty times. We would take turns playing the Mortal Champion beset by the monsters of Elfhame, my brothers and I. We had a large dog named Wiggins that was coal black, too, and would have been just like the hellhounds if he had not been friendly to a fault. A pity I must conserve my funds for the trip,” she said regretfully, and replaced the book on the shelf.

  She stepped to view the next section and Dominic moved back to make room, bumping into a tall, thin man with a handlebar moustache standing behind him. Dominic apologized, but the man merely nodded and left the store without saying anything.

  When they left the shop, it was already beginning to get dark. Dominic looked at his watch. “Why don't we have dinner at one of the cafés? There was one not too far from the hotel, if I recall.”

  Ardhuin sighed. “I've had enough of crowds for a
while. Let's go back to our rooms instead.”

  “There won't be that many people this early. At least give it a try—they might even have music.”

  Reluctantly, Ardhuin agreed.

  The food was excellent, and the music lively and well played. This was somewhat unfortunate, in Dominic's view, because the café was thus quite popular and began to fill up shortly after their arrival. Despite his care in choosing a table in a sheltered nook, out of view of most of the room, he could see Ardhuin getting more and more tense and unhappy as the lively crowd increased. Finally, he realized this was only increasing her dislike of being around people, and they made their way out into the night.

  “I think that street leads to our hotel. Through the park, there.” She tugged at his arm.

  He smiled a bit ruefully. “You really are eager to get away, aren't you?” When she did not immediately reply, he said, “I'm sorry. I thought you would like it.”

  “It was just the people,” she said carefully. “It isn't—”

  Out of a pool of darkness beside them, a figure suddenly appeared. He lunged out at Ardhuin, grabbing her from behind and jamming a pistol under her chin. “Hold it there, mage!” the man snarled at Dominic, holding Ardhuin as a shield between them. “Twitch a finger and she gets it!”

  Dominic froze, more in utter confusion than in obedience. He thinks I’m the mage, he realized, just as a bright flash of magic settled over their attacker and he froze, mouth open to give some new command that never came.

  “What was that?” Dominic said, once the shock of realizing the weapon and the attacker were real had worn off. Ardhuin made hushing motions and looked about the park. With the exception of themselves and the immobilized man, the park was deserted and dark. Struggling to extricate herself from the man’s rigid grasp, she dislodged something that fell from his pocket. Ardhuin picked it up and glanced at it curiously. It was a false handlebar moustache.

  Dominic stared at it, the connections forming rapidly in his mind. The man from the bookshop. He could see the resemblance now. But why had he been following them?