Between Darkness and the Light

by Paul T. H. Mitchener

  After what seemed to be an eternity, Henry emerged from the car relieved but a lot worse for wear. The rain had stopped but it was still wet and muddy underfoot. Being unsteady, Henry slipped and nearly fell but fortunately a strong hand held him upright. “Come on, let’s get you up on the road before you fall in the ditch,” the elder of the two said. The two men then went about helping Henry up the short bank and onto the road, but to Henry it felt more like they had carried him up the slope, he could hardly stand and was still dazed by the bump on his head. “Looks like you have been there a while… I’m Len and this is my son Toby,” the elder of the two said. Due to the fact that he was still facing the lights, Henry couldn’t make out the man’s features, so he raised his arm across his face to shield his eyes.

  Another sudden sharp pain flashed through his head and did so each time he looked at the light. “Sorry, mate… Come, sit over ere… Toby, there’s stuff in the tractor… Go get something for him to sit on.” Toby raced over to the tractor and pulled out an old, heavy waterproof jacket and an old blanket and raced back to place the blanket on the ground, then they both helped Henry to sit down, wrapping the jacket around his shoulders. “Not much, mate, but it’s the best we can do for now.”

  Len leant forward to look Henry over. “Are you sure you are alright, mate…? You’re not saying much.” Henry looked up and for the first time had the opportunity to see his rescuers’ faces. The larger and older man who called himself Len had a weather-beaten but friendly face, and was dressed in overalls and an old worn wax jacket. The younger lad had quite a handsome face with soft eyes and was dressed in a hi-vis jacket and trousers, albeit muddy and covered in oil. Henry was about to introduce himself when out of the blue a large, dark shadow flashed into view. Len turned to face it and was about to say something when he was suddenly swept off his feet. Before he had time to scream he was thrown across the road and against the tractor with such force that Henry could hear his bones break as he fell to the floor with his lifeless eyes staring back at them, the younger lad was screaming something in rage when he, too, was swept off his feet and torn apart in seconds, his dismembered limbs discarded across the roadside as if he were road kill. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.

  Henry couldn’t move and sat stunned, knowing who or, more to the point, what it was. He waited for the shadow master to turn on him. Seconds passed, but instead of attacking him, the shadow started to grow larger and darker, blacking out everything around it until it was just Henry and the cold, lifeless darkness surrounding him. “Elwine,” he heard his given Saxon name being spoken somewhere in the back of his mind. “Elwine,” it said once more, “I know that you are a servant to nature.” After a long pause it continued. “From this day on you now serve only us.” Henry went white with fear and had no idea of how to respond. “You hold the head piece of the Aelfgar… the Aelfgar belongs with us.” The voice didn’t seem to have any substance about it… it was more of a thought in his mind than a voice in his ear. “You will show us where it is held,” the voice continued.

  Henry had never felt so lost and alone. Sitting in the total blackness of the night, still wrapped in a coat the young lad gave him only a moment before, the darkness of the shadow master loomed all around him. However, all he could think of was those poor men… They only wanted to help… Why was it necessary to kill them? “The humans had no use to us,” he heard the voice say as if it read his mind and was replying to his question. “However… Elwine… you do…” Henry senior didn’t miss the meaning in its last statement: he was only alive as long as he knew where the spearhead was and the shadow master didn’t.

  He then felt a strange sensation deep within his head…The shadow master was trying to read his mind. It was making an attempt to see if it could locate the spearhead through his thoughts. Although Henry didn’t possess the skills his sisters had, he did have command of some magical powers. Even though he had not used them for some time, with little effect he managed to block the shadow master from his memory but suffered for his efforts. The harder he tried to stop the shadow master from penetrating his memory, the sharper the pain in his head became, but this time a lot more intense. He closed his eyes and worked at his powers in an attempt to control the pain – thankfully with some success.

  “Take me to the Aelfgar,” the voice insisted, but this time the voice had more of a presence about it. Henry sat frozen and watched with horror as the darkness and shadows around him started to subside, until materialising before him, was the shadow master itself… A grotesque, hideous creature, it lifted one of its clawed arms and pointed at him. Henry could smell death and decay on its breath when it opened its drooling, teeth-laden jaws. It said in the most bone-chilling voice he’d ever heard, “The Aelfgar is ours… and so are you, little man… to do with as we please…You dare try and defy me.” With that, the pain in his head increased to such an intensity that Henry screamed as it became almost unbearable, whilst the shadow master continued to try and penetrate his memories.

  He knew he would stay alive only as long as he had what the shadow master wanted, and it would dispose of him when it had no more use for him. Every excruciating second he fought for his life: the only way he could survive was to withhold the location of the spearhead from the creature standing before him. Knowing this gave him more determination to hold out for as long as he could. Henry desperately fought back the pain in his head, drawing on every ounce of his strength and power. The creature roared with anger and frustration, increasing the pain in his head to such a point that he could take it no more. Henry held his head, opened his mouth in a soundless scream, arched backwards, and blacked out.

  When he eventually came to, he found himself in a warm, cosy room dimly lit by a lantern hanging from the ceiling. There was a small fire burning in the grate, giving off a warm glow. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his head and neck was too much for him, so he lay back down, resting his head on a soft, feather-filled pillow. “Oh… ya awake then,” he heard a high-pitched, jolly voice say somewhere from out of view. “Been out for a while… wondered if ya were ever going to wake… Glad ya did, though… Not sure I wanted a dead body on me hands… Wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Henry managed with some effort to sit up, swinging his legs over the bed whilst still holding his head. He looked around the small room: there was a lovely, homely smell about the place: the smell of an open fire and cooking all mixed up with the pleasant smell of leather polish.

  The whole room was stuffed full of heavily bound, old, colourful leather books, some as large as a chair seat and as thick as your leg, others the size of small notebooks. Many of the larger books were unsteadily stacked into tall columns, reaching to the ceiling. Across from where he sat and next to the fire was a small, well-worn armchair with half its stuffing poking through holes on its arms and seat, and next to it an opened book resting on a small, round table. Above the fire and among other smaller books sat a black and white photograph of two individuals, but from where he was sitting and the fuzziness of his head he couldn’t make out the faces or any details. “Back to the land of the living, then,” the little voice said.

  Henry looked in the direction of where the bodiless voice was coming from. At first, he couldn’t see anyone, but it was coming from somewhere among the towering columns of books. They were so closely stacked together, it looked almost impossible to fit between them. Then, popping out from behind one of the columns came a strange-looking old gent. He was tall and very thin; his head was rather oversized for his body and he was dressed in yellow and green, chequered trousers and a bright red reading jacket, all looking far too large for him, dominating his long face and sitting precariously on his large, pointed nose were a pair of oversized glasses almost an inch thick, and around his neck a green-and red-chequered bow tie, again looking a little too large for his skinny neck. “Have something for your pain,” the strange fellow said as he passed Henry a steaming cup.

  Henry took the cup and looked d
own at the green-coloured contents with trepidation. “Will help with the pain in your head… Here, drink.” Henry didn’t have any idea how the odd fellow knew where his pain was, but he felt far too weak to care. He sniffed the drink and looked up at his host’s comical face, who smiled and nodded. “Drink… the sooner down, the sooner you’ll feel better.” Henry held the cup in both hands, sniffed it again and then gingerly took a sip. To his surprise it was very pleasant, spicy but with a hint of fruit and honey. He drank it back in one. “Right,” the fellow said, “I believe it’s time for introductions… I know who you are and of course what you are… I also know your sisters… quite well and have great regard for them both… But as for you… Well, let me leave that be for a moment… My name is Kreedy… Kreedy Wormwell… You’ve heard of me of course.” He paused for a response but didn’t get any, then shrugged. “No… well… you may be a guardian of nature… whereas I’m the guardian of history and knowledge of all thing past,” he announced proudly as if he were announcing to the whole world how important his role was in life.

  Henry senior held his head and squinted his eyes shut in an attempt to cut out some of the intense pain in his head. “It will ease in a minute or two,” Kreedy said whilst moving closer to him. “Takes a little while to get around your system… but the pain will ease.” After a brief pause he continued. “Been through the war a bit… I had to get you away from that… well, that place before any other humans came along.” Henry managed with a great deal of effort to look up at Kreedy and started to wonder how much this funny fellow knew. Neither of them said anything for a second or two until Kreedy finally broke the silence. “The shadow master has no mercy… so why, I ask myself, did he let you live…? You have something he wants, perhaps.” He paused again and stared Henry in the eye accusingly, hoping that it would tell him something more. After another second or two, he continued.

  “Well… whatever… I witnessed the whole thing myself but I was too far away to hear what was being said.” Henry sat forward and removed his hands from his head. Just as Kreedy had promised, the pain had eased just a little. “How… why were you there?” he managed to say. Kreedy looked insulted. “Why do you think I was there…? I’m the knowledge and the keeper of all things past,” he was about to announce once again, but before he managed to finish his sentence, Henry interrupted him. “I know… I know… you’re the fountain of all knowledge and knower of the past… yes… yes… that much I get,” he said, not trying to hide how irate he felt. “But why were you there?” Kreedy looked more than a little put out by Henry’s outburst. After all, he did rescue him, bring him into his home and treat his ailments, and this was how he was to be repaid.

  “It’s my job to… no, it’s my role in life to know as much as I can… to record it and write it down before it’s lost in time… lost to us all forever.” He paused and walked over to the old chair and sat down. He picked up a log and then placed it on the fire. “I’ve been following the shadow master’s movements for many years now,” he said, sitting back in the chair, “but as of late it’s been a lot more active… So we follow it when we can… and that’s why I was in the right place at the right time to witness what happened to you… and those… those poor fellows…” His voice trailed off. “When I say that we follow the shadow master… well, I don’t mean me personally… my friend Dunk does all the legwork… He was the one who carried you here… You can see for yourself that I don’t possess the stature or build to carry the likes of you for any distance.” Henry stood up and found that the pain in his head started to return, so he had to sit back down again. “Where is Dunk now?” he said whilst holding his head. “Outside,” Kreedy replied, handing him another cup of potion which he poured from a kettle over the fire. “I would like to thank you for your kindness and hospitality… and also like to thank Dunk… if that’s possible… Could he come in to join us so that I could speak to him personally…? Besides, the weather outside sounds terrible.” There was no visible window in the room but Henry could hear the rain lashing down on the roof and the wind howling outside. “Can’t,” Kreedy said in a rather matter-of-fact way. “He’s a tree-morph… and a rather large one at that… but it makes him a perfect choice for someone to observe and watch others without being noticed or influencing the situation … and of course to follow the shadows without being detected wouldn’t be possible without his skills.”

  Henry, of course, had heard of such creatures but never had the opportunity to meet one…Tree-morphs were to all intents and purposes trees… but trees with a real difference… they could move… Their roots become legs, and their branches arms. They could be static and stay in one place for decades if it suited them to do so, and it was impossible for anyone to know the difference to a normal tree. Henry had no idea whether or not they could speak, but it was obvious that they could communicate… Otherwise how would Kreedy be able to get it to help him?

  “I’ve never met a morph… well, not to my knowledge anyway,” Henry said finally. Kreedy gave him a large smile and then got up from his chair. He reached over Henry to puff up a couple of feather pillows. “Well, maybe he will agree to meet with you later… But for now you must get your head down and rest… When you wake the pain should have gone,” Henry did as he was told, too tired to object. His head sank comfortably into the soft, feather-filled pillows and he was asleep in minutes.

  Bree opened her eyes and squinted against the morning sunlight. “Morning, little miss,” Grog greeted her in a friendly manner and a large smile. “Yes, little miss… Good morning,” Nog repeated. Bree sat up and stretched her arms and smiled back. The two balls of fluff looked just as odd in daylight. Looking into their large, brown eyes, she smiled again. “Morning, Grog… Good morning, Nog,” she said whilst getting to her feet. “Been watching over you,” Grog said proudly. “Yes, been here all night, little miss… making sure dark things don’t hunt you,” Nog followed up. Bree had no intention of falling asleep but her fatigue must have caught up with her. The sun was still low and the morning still young. “We must get going, little miss,” Nog announced. “Yes, miss… must get to the palace as soon as we can… The king must know of the dark things by now and he will be in need of our help,” Grog continued. Bree couldn’t imagine what sort of help these two cute little things could offer, but they both seemed very sure of themselves.

  Moments later, the three set out to make their way across the large, open meadow in the direction of the Koh-Panyee and the palace. Bree was surprised how quickly the little fellows travelled, considering their shape and tiny legs, and after a while she was finding it a struggle to keep up with them.

  The day wore on as they tracked across the open but breathtaking landscape. Unfortunately, they had no time to stop and take in the scenery. They all had a lot on their minds and a long way to go. The sun was now high in the sky and the day was hot and unforgiving, and unfortunately for Bree there was no shade to be found. So it wasn’t long before she found herself lagging behind, which for her was, to say the least, a little embarrassing: most of her life she had always been fast on her feet and had never had difficulty in keeping up with the best. However, she hadn’t eaten or drunk properly for a few days now, and it was catching up with her. Her lips were chapped and her throat dry, so she couldn’t say much if she had wanted to. And over the past hour or, she was becoming a little unsteady on her feet, and having no energy to use her wings to aid her, she started to stumble every now and then.

  Then finally her strength gave out and she tripped, falling face down into the grass.

  Grog stopped whilst Nog rushed to her aid and helped her back on her feet. “Little miss is tired,” he said. Grog, who was now holding Bree in his arms, at the same time indicating for Nog to head off in a different direction. They needed water and shade and if they didn’t find it soon… they knew that Bree wouldn’t last much longer. She was a woodland creature and, like all the trees and plants around her, she needed water and nourishment regularly. Grog and
Nog knew this, so Nog rushed off as if he knew exactly where he was going, and Grog followed, supporting Bree in his arms, who, by now, was dragging her feet and relying on Grog to half-carry her.

  It took the best part of an hour before they approached a large, unfriendly-looking area dominated by tall, misshapen trees all intertwined within one another, and the ground around them was covered in angry-looking, twiggy shrubs that stuck out of the earth in all directions like daggers. In total contrast to the neighbouring trees and shrubs around their feet, there were also a few colourful trees that majestically reached up towards the open blue sky. To the uneducated eye, the scrubs looked deadly and unwelcoming, and most of which were covered in large, angry thorns. It looked impossible for anybody to even think of finding a way through them, but that didn’t discourage Grog. After handing Bree to Nog, he simply walked right through them without any hesitation, his thick, fluffy fur seemingly protecting him from any of the dangerous thorns. Nog stopped under the shade of one of the large, colourful trees at the edge of the shrubby area and sat Bree down to rest. They both watched as Grog walked around, stopping every now and then to look around at the base of the plants, sometimes disappearing from sight completely. Then, after a short while, finally satisfied that he had found what he was looking for, he bent down and started to rummage around at the base of one of the shrubs. When he stood back up, he was chewing on something. He made his way back though the thorns with a handful of what looked like roots.

  “Little miss must eat,” he said handing one of the dirt-covered roots to her. Bree took it from him and gave Grog a strange look. “Will make you feel better… it’s all we have until we reach the palace,” he said cheerfully. Bree gingerly took a bite and immediately pulled a face. “Bitter taste, little miss,” he smiled, “but it has lots of goodness… will help you feel better.” Nog had already pulled a low-hanging branch off one of the trees and carried it over to where Bree was sitting. “Try this, little miss… water.” He broke the branch in half and a blue liquid dripped from the break. “Here… must drink.” Bree did as she was instructed and was pleasantly surprised that it tasted sweet, which helped take the bitter taste of the root out of her mouth. “We must get to a safe place before nightfall… too many dark things.” Grog said. Taking the other half of the branch from Nog hungrily, they both then tucked into the roots. Bree, however, retched each time she took a bite of the disgusting-tasting, stringy root, but persisted in eating it, each time taking a sip from the tree branch to try and conceal the taste.