The charred wood was not hot to the touch, so Rheq did not worry about being burned as he moved fallen beams and parts of the roof aside. He found no evidence of his family among the collapsed house. They may have fled. They may yet still live.
Convinced he had searched thoroughly enough among his family’s property, Rheq moved on to the neighbor’s home. He did not spend nearly as much time in this search, but enough to be convinced no one had died in the fire there either.
More cautiously now, Rheq moved among the other burnt buildings. His house sat on the northern side of town, closer to the tree line of the wilds. The only movement Rheq detected was ash floating to and fro from the slight western breeze. After passing through the town center, where the fountain now ran dry, Rheq’s nostrils detected a new smell. It was familiar, but not quite. It smells like cooked rabbit, only … not. Perhaps the ash and smoke in the air tainted the smell. If someone was preparing a meal close-by, they could know what happened here. Or perhaps I could punish them if they are the ones to blame.
Before investigating the source of the new smell, Rheq returned to where he had dropped his bow. Armed, once again, he made his way back to the town square. The breeze had picked up a little, and with it, he could sense the smell came from the direction of old man Carq’s farm. It was by the largest open field in the area, which would make it a perfect place to set up a camp.
A small copse had been left untouched between the town and Carq’s farm. Rheq had heard the old farmer call it his natural fence. It also gave Rheq a place to approach the farm without being in the open.
Perhaps he would find another group of five or so soldiers as he had before. But it would take a lot more than that to do what was done here. Rheq stopped, and listened for voices, yet heard none.
The smell of cooking meat was stronger here, and it began to make Rheq’s stomach churn, though he did not know why. Finally, he made his way closer to the open field to get a view.
When he did, Rheq understood. No enemy camp was in the field. No one was cooking rabbit. Point of fact, no one was doing anything at all. They could not. From what Rheq could see, every townsperson’s body had been burned to death and left to rot in a giant heap.
Chapter 34
Danla woke to someone shouting. Prying her eyes open, darkness still prevailed. How long she had slept, she could only guess. The ache in her body told her it was only for a short period.
“To arms!” a male voice shouted. “To arms!”
Is it a test? Only two days had passed since Mistress Halima moved their camp next to where male soldiers were training. Surely those who had witnessed the attack before, in which Pendr fought them off, would not be back so soon. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.
Yarma and Nya shared the tent with Danla. Her eyes adjusted to what light was available to see both of them sitting upright.
“You heard him,” Yarma said. “Best get up, quickly!”
Neither Nya nor Danla questioned her. Yarma’s experience surpassed the other two women, hence, the reason she was assigned to watch over them.
Wearing only a night dress, the same cut and style as the other initiates, Danla stood and followed Yarma out of the tent. A slight chill in the air cut through the cotton clothing, causing Danla to shiver. What she saw next caused her to shiver even more.
Twenty or so men, most wielding long spears in one hand, and swords in the other raced from the trees. A few of the men dressed in robes held nothing in their hands. Those have to be men who can use the myelur.
“To me! Now!” called Halima.
Danla recognized her voice right away. The elderly leader of her group stood by the fire pit, arms stretched outward with her palms open. Behind her were the rest of Danla’s fellow initiates.
Grabbing the folds in her dress near her thighs, and lifting the cloth a little so she would not trip as she ran, Danla followed Yarma and Nya. On the way, she noticed two fighters from the other friendly camp, wearing full chain mail, and armed with long swords and shields standing in front of Halima. Where are the rest?
Confidence reflected in the enemies’ faces. Two men, armed though they were, and a group of women were not match for their forces. Danla could see the crescent moon symbols on their armor now, the silver thread gleaming in the moonlight.
In a matter of heartbeats, the battle would be engaged. Then, the two allied fighters did something unthinkable: they turned and ran behind Halima. Laughter at such cowardice gurgled from the onrushing soldiers—and then came to an abrupt end.
The first of the charging soldiers came to a sudden stop as if they had run headfirst into a wall. Which, in a sense, they had. Though Danla could not see it with her physical eyes, she knew there was a barrier, one created by Halima using the blue myelur, between them and their foes.
The rest of the men slowed and eventually stopped before hitting the magical barrier. One of the men who had fallen let loose a string of curses, followed by yelling, “Mages! Bring this barrier down. Now!”
Three robed men stepped forward. Each stretched forth their arms and opened their palms, mirroring Halima’s stance.
Based on Danla’s previous experience, she knew Halima would not be able to hold the barrier for long—especially not against three men who could attack the invisible defenses. I’m not trained for combat! I’m a healer! A quick glance at the other initiates indicated that they, too, felt the same. The only two people behind Halima who did not look afraid were the soldiers. Is it because they are armed? Cries of surprise from the enemy made her realize it was something else.
The three mages, as the enemy soldier had called them, fell to the ground. Multiple arrows protruded from their bodies—arrows which came from the southern side of the forest. More arrows flew, most hitting the enemy in vulnerable spots.
In the open, the enemy had no place to take cover. Without awaiting orders, several of the men went to race for the northern tree line to seek cover. That was, until, a dozen men, dressed in the king’s colors charged from their hiding place. The two fighters behind Halima sprinted forward.
The battle was joined.
“Remain behind me!” Halima shouted to the initiates.
Some of the young women looked away as limbs were chopped off, swords found passages through armor, and the work of death commenced before them. Danla remembered hearing once that time slowed down while in battle, but for her, it did not. Perhaps it was because she was only an observer and not an active participant.
Sooner than she thought possible, the battle ended. Shouts of “No quarter!” sprang from the lips of the winning soldiers. Her soldiers. Their forces had won, but not without cost. Several of her allies lay wounded—some crying out in pain, others moaning deeply.
“Now, initiates, now!” Halima ordered. “Use what you’ve been taught. Heal the injured.”
Yarma was the first to rush out to where men had fallen. Danla followed closely behind. She jumped over a fallen enemy to reach a man who held a hand to his stomach, trying to prevent blood from oozing out.
Kneeling, Danla reached to the man and placed her hands over the wound. She tried to shut out everything else around her, as had been taught. There, from the center of her being, she found the green myelur. She coaxed it forward, through her hands and into the man’s wounds. Soon, she could feel the gash in his middle closing, and with it, her energy began to wane. The soldier would be as new in a moment as long as she could remain focused.
A sharp pain in her left shin interrupted the process. Something hit me. The green myelur slipped from her grasp. She turned her head to see a dagger embedded in her leg, just below her knee. The enemy soldier which she had jumped over was propped up on one arm, grinning victoriously. His grin did not last long.
One of Danla’s allies reacted to the attack, shooting an arrow into the back of the man’s neck. Her rescuer rushed to her, and looking her in the eyes said, “I need to remove this blade. It may be poisoned.”
Without waiting f
or confirmation, he grasped the handle and yanked the dagger free from her leg. Spots danced in front of Danla’s eyes. The pain was unlike anything she had felt before.
“I need a healer!” the soldier cried. “Here! Now!”
I still have a task at hand. She tried to shunt the pain and refocus on the man she had been healing before. Someone can heal me after I’ve healed him. The idea offered her enough comfort that she directed her full attention on her patient. When she did, something unexpected happened.
In addition to the green myelur flowing from her inner self, she noticed something else. Yellow threads stretched between her and the wounded man. They glowed in a similar fashion to the green myelur, yet differently. Whereas the green acted more like a balm, the yellow threads vibrated with a sense of urgency.
What is this? What does this mean? Then, from the recesses of her mind, she remembered what Halima had said. The myelur consisted of red, green, and blue. But that was not all. Yellow also existed, though it was dangerous and should be avoided, no matter the situation. Halima had never explained why.
Danla again fixated on the yellow threads. They did not appear to be dangerous. If anything, they seemed to call out to her—begging her to let them help. The urge to pluck one of the threads grew stronger, and with each heartbeat, Danla’s resolve weakened. How can something so beautiful be dangerous?
Mentally, she reached out toward one of the threads, not quite touching it. Then, she felt a hand clasp her leg, where the knife had pierced her. Immediately the pain lessened, and with it, the yellow threads began to fade. When the pain in her leg was gone, the threads vanished completely.
Danla turned her head, enough to see it was Mistress Halima who had healed her.
“Go ahead, Danla,” Halima said. “Finish healing your patient. And from there, we’ll heal the rest.”
“Yes, Mistress Halima,” Danla said.
A hard look appeared in her teacher’s eyes. “After this is over, you and I need to talk.”
Chapter 35
“You are now ready to learn the fourth mantra,” Friar Janus told Nestov. “As with the others, you are required not to share it with anyone. Of this, will you accept?”
“I accept, Friar Janus.”
Once again, the friar smiled. It was odd to see again an expression which until two days ago Nestov had never seen from the older man. Muted light came in from the windows set high into the limestone walls. Clouds crept in during the evening and seemed content to remain over the abbey. Normally, Nestov found the hard stone bench in the training room to be uncomfortable. This morning, he hardly noticed it at all.
Two days previous, Nestov had passed the test of light. The other thirty initiates of his age reacted in differing manners. A few were openly happy for him, while most made no acknowledgment of his achievement. Only a couple were outwardly hostile, though not in front of any of the church leaders.
As a reward for his efforts, Nestov was given two days of freedom to spend as he wished inside the abbey. Naturally, he chose to visit the library. He read books on the history of Virqyna, as well as the battles fought with Nothcar and Murlund. These were texts expected of him to read, though, on the second evening, Nestov indulged in burying himself in the pages of The Tales of Grorage the Brave.
Many a night as a youngster, before the land of dreams took him, Nestov would fantasize he was Grorage, off on a noble quest of no small importance. As a third boy born to his parents, it was not a life he could lead. No, he was committed to the church upon his birth. To be fully honest with himself, heroes in the stories did not have his skinny frame and shorter stature.
In a way, Nestov found himself on an adventure of a different kind—one of knowledge. Unlike fighting with swords, or mastering horseback riding, this was something in which he excelled. And now, he was about to learn even more: the fourth mantra.
“In your last test,” Friar Janus began, “you learned of light. You divined that light can be separated into three basic elements: red, green, and blue. You also discovered how by combining all these elements any color could be created.”
“Yes, Friar.”
“Is that all there is to be learned from light?”
Nestov considered the question. Answering only in the affirmative would bring nothing new to the discussion. What else do I know of light? There were many points, and he filtered through is possible answers. He selected two, and remembering the third mantra, stated them confidently.
“Two more key elements are to be considered when learning about light,” Nestov said, his voice strong. “First, there is a connection between the three colors of light and the myelur.”
Surprise flitted across Janus’s face. “Oh? And of what do you know about the myelur?”
“I have heard stories, as most children have, I’m sure,” Nestov said. “Though it is from the texts in the library where I have learned the most. Scattered throughout the holy works are references to the power to do good. They are given different names, some in the ancient tongue, yet in each case, the words can be translated or referenced to one of three colors: red, green, and blue.”
Janus clasped his hands behind his back. “And what makes you think this is related to light?
“It is of light which we praise,” Nestov recited from memory. “Light brings life. Light brings hope. Light helps us see the things otherwise hidden.”
“You are only repeating what each first level initiate knows.” The scowl which Nestov knew well had replaced the friar’s smile.
Lifting his hands in a gesture to pacify his teacher, Nestov said, “If light is good, and the three elements of the myelur are good, the connection cannot be a coincidence.”
The older man still scowled, though not as deeply. “What is your other main point?”
“As I stated, light helps us see the things otherwise hidden. What, then, causes something to be hidden? Shadows—created when light is obstructed.”
“Meaning?” The friar’s voice did not have the same critical tone as before.
Nestov took that to mean he was on the right path and sat up a bit straighter. “There is a connection between light and shadow. Shadows cannot exist without light.”
For twenty or so heartbeats, Janus said nothing. He simply stared at Nestov, his expression giving away nothing. Then, he asked, “If, as you said, light is good, does that mean shadow is evil?”
The point made sense, after a fashion, though something in the way the friar phrased it seemed … off. Unlike the previous three mantras, what his teacher said now did not possess the same resonance of truth.
“No. The shadow in and of itself is not evil. To state as much indicates that good creates evil. It does not.” Nestov said. Friar Janus’s lips twitched as if he were about to speak, but Nestov continued. “I will concede evil survives better in shadow than light. Therefore, it is light we seek. But where there is light, there will be shadows.”
Janus rubbed his hand over his mouth before speaking again. When he did, his words were soft, thoughtful. “You say light and shadow are connected, yes? And you state shadows are created when light is obstructed, correct?”
“Yes, Friar Janus.”
“What, then, obstructs the light?”
It was yet another question which Nestov could take literally, or metaphorically. None of the others with which he trained were purposely trying to limit their learning, but literal interpretations were what most of his fellow students could not see beyond, and hence impeded their progress at the abbey. Obstacles can be passive in nature. That triggered the next thought: Sometimes the barriers are intentional.
“Obstructions, or barriers, can be benign in nature—such as ignorance,” Nestov said. “Obstructions can also be created or positioned to block the light deliberately. An example would be withholding the truth to those in need of it.”
Janus took three steps to his left, then faced Nestov once again. “Barriers are different, you say?"
“Yes, Friar,” N
estov said. He began to feel an excitement build within his chest. I’m on the verge of learning something important here. I can feel it! “Using the second mantra of comparing the unknown to the known, consider a leaf. It can block out some, or all, of the light, depending on its character. Or look out the window today. The sun is in the sky, yet the clouds prevent all of the light from passing through. Thicker storms, violent storms, can make even mid-day appear as night.”
Janus took three steps back to his right, which seemed odd to Nestov. Why move to one side, just to return? Then again, he had never known his teacher to do anything without a reason. “So, it is the nature of the barrier which determines the characteristics of the shadow?”
The first response to come to Nestov’s mind was to answer in the affirmative. But then he paused. Once again, an element of truth was missing. Yes, some obstacles allowed a portion of light through, while others prevented any. However, if the shadow and light were directly connected, then it was more than the barrier which determined the shadow. It was then Nestov understood.
“No, Friar Janus. The nature of the shadow depends not only on the barrier, but also the amount or brightness of the light.”
Janus took two small steps, placing him in the middle of where he had walked before. Unblinking, he said, “The fourth mantra is thus: Brighter the light, stronger the barrier, darker the shadow.”
Chapter 36
Pendr stood in the back row of the formation, shoulder to shoulder with men who he did not know, but swore to protect—even if that meant dying for them. No, not for them. For the people I know and love. He could see clearly over the first two rows as the shorter men stood in front. Glancing quickly to his left and right, he noticed he stood taller than any of the rest of the trainees. There was one man who was almost of a height with him, but his skinny frame made him look like a child in an adult’s body.
“This is not the war we thought it would be,” the man standing before them said. His stature was average, perhaps even on the smaller side. However, his hard facial features and steely gaze made for a commanding presence. “My name is Captain Mux, and I am tasked with making you into the weapons we need to win.”
Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1) Page 14