Emotion and instinct urged me to attack. I could take down this man and seize the high ground on the stairs. Others might come for me from below, but I could take them, to make sure of a clean exit. If it got too risky, I knew that I could jump out of the tower and land on the roof of the next building a story below.
My legs and arms tensed. My hand clenched the pommel of Zarathus.
The laughing stopped and the men grew restless in the quiet.
“Out of my way.” I uttered the words through clenched teeth, fighting to restrain myself.
The ogre laughed again. “Pretty boy’s mad.” He took a small step to the side, leaving a foot for me to pass through. “Better hurry boy. You’ve got a date with a painful death up there.”
I bridled my tongue and slipped past him. Their laughter followed me as I climbed the stairs to the room above. The Gloaming was beneath me now. It had to be. It, and all the sins carried with it. Being here seemed to summon back a dormant savagery, but I could not afford another outburst. Enough men had died by my hand, and I would not add Tryst to the tally.
I stepped through a hatch at the top of the stairs and slammed it below me, cutting off the sounds of laughter. I stood silent in the cavernous top room. I had been here only once before.
There were no walls on three sides of the room; just bare wooden beams arching above. Six old iron chandeliers hung above. They dipped down to just above my head. Without any candles, they seemed to put out darkness instead of light. The floor was an inky black. I began to walk slowly towards the far side of the room with a wall. Each step was difficult.
I was half way across the room when I heard him move. He emerged from the darkness ten feet before me, wearing only black trousers and a sword. His face had the same sharp lines, the same blue eyes. But through the grime, he had a different look than I remembered. It was more sinister and open at the same time.
We each held our ground, eyes locked, swords drawn, bodies coiled. It was the kind of moment that could have stretched on into eternity.
Chapter 25
LIGHT ON THE FALLEN
“No one after lighting a lamp
puts it in a cellar or under a basket,
But on a stand, so that
those who enter may see the light.”
Andor fought to stay calm. Tryst broke the silence.
“I doubted you had it in you,” Tryst said. “You had me within reach three times before, but you were too weak to face me like a man. First you disguised yourself like a lowly knight, then you ran away with my sister, and last you let the nobles and soldiers seize me. Now you come here to taste death by my hand? I admit it is a pleasant surprise. Cowardice does not sit well on you.” He spread his arms as if in welcome. “The Gloaming is a fine place to end this.”
“I am not here to fight you.” Andor’s voice was soft but firm. “I came to bring you out.”
Tryst began to move slowly around Andor, like a vulture circling above a wounded animal. “If you will not fight, then you will die.”
“And then what? You stay here, a fallen tyrant in the dark?” Andor tried to maintain his distance from the predator. “You were meant for more than this.”
“Eyes can adjust to the Gloaming,” Tryst said. “I am making something of this place, which apparently you never could. Order and obedience are replacing chaos’s reign. I will be god here.”
“You would be satisfied to rule this pitiful kingdom, dependent on the waste of our city above?”
“Admit it, you failed here,” Tryst taunted as he circled closer.
“Everyone fails here. You cannot measure yourself against other men. Success is judged by something greater. I escaped from this form of death, and how I compare to those around me does not matter anymore. I want to enable every man to reach his best potential, including you.”
“Your vanity has always come up short, Andor. What you and I want is the same, but Yates has made you think you do not crave the power that we cannot help but seek. Other men can never achieve the greatness we can. You let them hold you back. That is why I will be the only one left in this room alive.”
Andor shook his head. “I invite you to join me when I leave, but you have to accept my help. I am not asking you to come because you deserve it.”
“You are here to try to prove yourself.” Tryst punctuated the sentence with a jab of his sword at Andor, who deflected it and hopped back out of reach. The clash of their blades echoed through the room. Tryst was beginning to close Andor into a corner.
“Tryst, listen to me. This is not a game, and it is not about me. We are all flawed inside. No man is good enough to rule absolutely over another. Men need something greater than you and I. If you can accept that as I have, then we can return to Valemidas together.”
“That sounds like a tired sermon from Yates,” Tryst said. “Ramzi taught me better, despite his flaws. The church’s drivel drags you down. The teaching of men like Yates has stomped out the brightest souls for generations. I reject it.”
Tryst slashed his blade down, and Andor parried it away. Their eyes locked.
“I expected more from you,” Tryst said, “especially after you escaped this place and stole my throne.”
“I took back what was stolen from me,” Andor said.
“I would almost respect you for it,” Tryst replied, “if not for your groveling. When great men like you cave to the philosophy of servitude, you become a threat to world-historical souls. You become a traitor to your own kind. Those born like us must push man’s spirit to new heights. You are no longer willing to see men sacrificed to develop a better world.”
Tryst pressed forward, forcing Andor to step back to the edge of the room.
Tryst’s lips curved into a smile. “Now you have run out of time, and we cannot coexist.”
He thrust his blade at Andor’s stomach. Andor deflected it and slid to the side.
Tryst struck again, and faster, slashing his sword down at Andor’s head. Andor rolled away but caught a glancing blow to his left shoulder. It drew blood, but Granville’s armor had stopped the full force.
Tryst closed on him with a flurry of blows. Andor parried most of them with Zarathus, but he took a few more grazes through the armor and a cut on his cheek.
The men circled each other, metal ringing as they clashed. Tryst was relentless and strong, but Andor had the better sword and the stamina for patience. Both were breathing heavily when Tryst charged, blocked Andor’s counterattack, and surprised Andor with a punch to the face.
Tryst followed with a slash at Andor’s head. Andor raised his sword-bearing arm just in time to block. Tryst’s blade bounced off the armor, but the force knocked Zarathus to the ground.
They both dove for the blade and grappled on the floor. Andor landed a knee into Tryst’s chest and managed to pin him down. In an instant he pulled a dagger from his boot and pressed it to Tryst’s throat. Zarathus was just out of reach.
Sweat and blood dripped from Andor’s face onto Tryst’s. Their muscles quivered as Andor struggled to hold him down. One slice of his blade and Tryst would die.
“This is your last chance, Tryst,” Andor breathed out. “We are only human, not divine. Serve the light, not yourself.”
“I am the light. God is dead.”
“You are dead, if you do not come with me.”
Tryst’s body relaxed, but Andor kept his dagger at his neck. He fought every temptation to kill the man who had betrayed him and sent him to the Gloaming to rot.
“Leave this place with me, Tryst. If change is what you want, I promise it will come. I will put an end to the Gloaming. No man should face this punishment. I will bury Zarathus here. It is a corrupt relic of a twisted past. I will change things in Valemidas, too.”
Tryst lay quiet and still, his face blank. Andor continued to speak, hoping his words landed in fertile soil.
“You and Ramzi were right about man’s depravity, but you were wrong to try to control it solely through the for
ce of laws. We must empower the people to lead themselves, to take more responsibility and realize their potential. Men may join the Lycurgus, but it cannot be forced on mere boys. Valemidas has grown decadent and weak, it is true. Help me build the traditions that military requires, and raise up leaders.
“This place can show you the truth about yourself. We must be stripped and broken down, especially when we have delusions about our own grandeur. Only then can we be reborn. That is what happened to me, and it can happen to you.”
“Are you finished?” Tryst asked casually, as if they were drinking in a tavern.
“Not yet.” Andor answered, as an ounce of tension faded from his hand holding the dagger. “You should know that I am not here just for myself. More than anyone, Ravien insisted that I come for you. She loves you, Tryst, and she hopes for your return. She had grown to fear what you were becoming, and so had Lorien. But they would welcome you back.”
Tryst stared levelly at Andor and spoke with contempt. “I would rather be god of the Gloaming than your puppet. Enough of your weakness and lies.”
Like a coiled snake striking, Tryst spat and then slammed his forehead into Andor’s face. As Andor reeled back, Tryst planted his free hand on the ground and thrust his sword at Andor’s chest. “Your death is my—”
Tryst’s words ended in a writhing scream. Andor, while rolling away from the attack, had stabbed his dagger through Tryst’s hand, pinning it into the wooden floor.
Tryst dropped his sword and reached frantically to pull out the dagger. Andor slammed his boot into Tryst’s side and kicked away the dropped sword.
He dashed to pick up Zarathus and then looked back.
“You leave me no choice!” Andor shouted. “Stay in this pit. But you could have been so much more.”
Andor sprinted to the room’s edge and dropped to the floor below. From there he leapt to the nearest building’s roof. He raced down the stairs and out into the central square.
Six men were standing under the black box. Before he reached them, Andor pulled a bag of round stones from his pocket. He threw three of them consecutively at the box as he ran. The sound of their thump against the metal was lost in the frenzy of men yelling on all sides, but it was heard inside the box.
This time the men in the square did not attempt to stop Andor. Their faces wore confusion and fear as they stepped back. Suddenly the doors of the box dropped open and a rope fell from the dark space. Andor grabbed it and began to rise when he turned and saw Granville running toward him. Three men blocked Granville’s path.
He could not leave him.
Dropping the rope, Andor yelled and charged with Zarathus held high. Behind Granville, he saw Tryst and his group of men flooding out of the building. Time was running short. The three nearest men turned to stop Andor.
Andor stabbed his blade into the gut of one man as he ducked under the swing of an iron pole. He spun as he pulled Zarathus out and severed the arm that had been holding the pole. The third man ran as the other two lay screaming on the ground.
Granville reached for Andor’s outstretched hand but fell to his knees. The hilt of a crude dagger stuck out of his back. Tryst was holding another dagger, ready to throw.
“Go!” Granville yelled as Andor tried to lift him. “Leave me!” He screamed as the second dagger plunged into his back.
Andor looked up and saw Tryst pulling out another blade to throw. At least ten men were with him. Andor nodded farewell to Granville, turned away, and sprinted the short distance to the rope.
He grabbed it just as a blade flew by, slashing his hand and knocking Zarathus loose. He held fast to the rope and tried to ignore the pain.
He lifted quickly off the ground to the box above. He looked up and grabbed the hand reaching for him.
“Stop him! No!” Tryst’s voice shouted from below, full of desperation.
Sorrow and anger and relief swept over Andor as he watched Tryst pick up Zarathus and reach out toward him with his other, bleeding hand.
Then the doors of the box slammed shut. A lantern’s light filled the small space, and Jon and Wren sat before him.
They had followed his orders and stayed stationed in the box until the three stones struck it. The brothers wore harnesses tied to a rope leading to the dungeons above, which had allowed them to lift him up after the doors opened.
“It is finished.” Andor winced as he spoke. “I could not have done it without you.” He glanced down, thinking of the man lost below.
“Thanks to your inspiration,” Jon said.
“You look better than the last time you left this place,” Wren added with a grin.
“I would hope so,” Andor said, “but we lost Granville. It will take a long time for these wounds to heal.” He rose to his feet, and the brothers sprang up to help him when he staggered.
“You will not be feeling better at all, if we do not get you mended soon. Can you keep a hold on the rope?” Jon asked.
Andor nodded and gave the rope two hard pulls. “Let’s go.”
After they were lifted to the dungeons above, Andor led them out to the palace grounds. He walked to the top of the stairs overlooking the city. He had promised Lorien he would go there first.
She and Ravien were waiting. Lorien ran to Andor’s arms.
Andor explained about the fight, and Tryst’s refusal to join him. Then they were quiet, and he looked out over the city.
“We have much to do to make things right again,” Andor said, turning back to Lorien, Ravien, Wren, and Jon. “Our city is wounded from what Ramzi and Tryst have done. The nobles are in disarray. These problems cannot be solved by a prince alone, especially not a prince with his own wounds. As you have seen, I am not who I was before the Gloaming.”
“What we have seen,” Wren said, “is that you died and came back to us with more wisdom and strength. It seems the same is not to be for Tryst. He can live and reign in the underworld.” Ravien said nothing but her countenance darkened.
Andor did not respond at first, his gaze drifting from the group to the ocean and storm clouds on the east horizon.
“As long as Tryst is in the Gloaming,” Andor said distantly, “a piece of me will be there too.” He turned again to face Lorien and the others. “But my place is here, and I will walk in the light.”
Chapter 26
EPILOGUE
“By its light will the nations walk,
and the kings of the earth
will bring their glory into it.”
Two men and a woman sat in the high tower of an old noble house. The candles in the room had nearly burned down, but the first morning light was shining on the parchment before them.
They had negotiated over the words through the night. It had been mostly cordial, thanks in part to the wine, but a few threats and bribes had been necessary to find agreement on the stickier points. Now they were done, and each had applied their seals in blood.
Ravien stood with her hands planted on the table, staring down at the inked words. She had not wanted it to come to this. Andor was supposed to bring her brother back, but her brother was a proud man. He had been wrong to entrust Ramzi with power and wrong to try to dismantle the nobles. Still, Valemidas needed him to lead its army against the coming threat. At least her brother was last seen alive, and this agreement was the best chance of bringing him back. Mailyn had told only her that she carried Tryst’s child. Walking to the window, she looked out over the ocean to the east of Valemidas. The view brought some peace, because it reminded her that she and Wren would be sailing away from this place for a while.
The old noble, Justus Davosman, paced around the table and the parchment. He had long feared that this day would come. The Lycurgus had been a step in the right direction, a return to the old ways of discipline and fortitude. Valemidas had grown too soft, and a city like that could never stand long against another people hungry for power. This agreement meant it would soon be time to spread the news that only the three in this room knew. If Ando
r had the courage, that news could save Valemidas. Davosman alone knew Andor’s parents and their lineage, which gave him hope in the restored prince.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair with a smile. His people, the Sunans, could not lose with this agreement. Either they conquer or they walk away with chests full of this city’s treasures. The infighting of their princes had left them vulnerable, as had generations of peace before Tryst. If his people conquered, no one would be in a better position to be prince than he. This agreement saw to that.
QUOTATIONS BEFORE EACH CHAPTER
The quotations before each chapter often signal subtext. Below are attributions for these quotations. I have collected them here, rather than including them after each quotation, to avoid pulling your mind out of the Gloaming world while you read. As meaningful as philosophy might be, it is no rival to a good story.
Chapter 1 – Hegel
Chapter 2 – Nietzsche
Chapter 3 – Ecclesiastes 4:9-10
Chapter 4 – Nietzsche
Chapter 5 – Rousseau
Chapter 6 – Machiavelli
Chapter 7 – Shakespeare
Chapter 8 – Burke
Chapter 9 – Thoreau
Chapter 10 – 1 Corinthians 10
Chapter 11 – James 1:14-15
Chapter 12 – Shakespeare
Chapter 13 – Ecclesiastes 8:11
Chapter 14 – St. Augustine
Chapter 15 – Buddhist saying
Chapter 16 – Napoleon
Chapter 17 – Hare
Chapter 18 – Voltaire
Chapter 19 – Homer
Chapter 20 – C.S. Lewis
Chapter 21 – Shakespeare
Chapter 22 – Jefferson
Chapter 23 – Joseph Conrad
Chapter 24 – Machiavelli
Chapter 25 – Luke 11:33
Chapter 26 – Revelation 21:24
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Light in the Gloaming (The Gloaming Book One) Page 25