Darker the Shadow (The Howler King Trilogy Book 1)

by J. Lloyd Morgan

  Doing nothing was also not a good option, so he started to pick his way northward through the forest. He stayed within eyesight of the road but far enough away where he doubted he could be spotted.

  Finally, the sun dipped too far under the horizon to illuminate his path. A decent sized oak grew not too far from the road, and with a little effort, Rheq climbed into its wide branches. He found a solid place where he could wedge himself between two diverging branches and the trunk. He had slept in trees before, and while it was not the most comfortable of locations, it was safer than sleeping on the ground.

  That night he dreamt of being chased through the forest. Several times, he awoke with a start and had to catch himself from slipping out of the tree. After one particularly vivid dream, one in which he was a rabbit being chased by hunters, he found sleep elusive. In his youth, he had been the hunter, never considering what the prey might have felt. Having experienced being pursued by those who meant him harm made him question whether he would want to hunt ever again.

  While his mind wrestled with such thoughts, his body’s weariness eventually took over, and he continued in a fitful sleep. When he awoke, it was not to the sound of his stomach growling; it was to something coming down the road from the north. Cautiously, he climbed higher into the tree to see if he could get a better look.

  He managed to reach a spot where he could look over many of the trees and see sections of the road. The tree swayed a little under his weight, but it held firmly. With the sun still rising, Rheq used his ability to look for the red glows of living creatures. They were not hard to find.

  On the road to the north was a great number of people—that much was clear. And then Rheq saw something else: a banner of green and silver.

  He had found King Viskum’s army.

  Chapter 59

  The army came to an abrupt halt, and from Danla’s perspective, she could not tell why. They had just set out for the day. From what she was able to glean from those around camp the night previous, it would be several more days until the army would reach its destination: Blythewood.

  “I’m not quite ready for battle. Light, when will I be?” Danla heard Eladrel ask to no one in particular.

  “We’re not under attack,” Yarma, who walked next to them, replied. “We’d hear shouting and be given orders.”

  Mistress Halima traveled several paces ahead. Her short stature prevented her from seeing over anyone, but that did not stop her from pushing forward through the crowd until she was out of Danla’s sight.

  Traveling close to the healers were the support troops: cooks, armorers, and general laborers who were either too young or too old to be soldiers. Danla noticed many of them shifting around uneasily. Thus far, the trip had been routine—travel, camp for the night, break camp at first light and then travel again until dusk. After five days of traveling, this was the first break in the pattern.

  “Maybe our scouts found something,” Danla said. “Perhaps that’s what’s causing the delay.”

  “Could be …” Eladrel said, though he did not sound convinced. “Chances are we’ll start moving soon and never find out the reason for the delay. We are, after all, just healers.”

  “Just healers?” Yarma said. “We’re more than that. We’re what keeps this army functioning. Without us, they wouldn’t have gotten this far.”

  Yarma’s words reminded Danla of how she recently healed Pendr from a wound which without her skills would have been fatal. Over the last several days, she had asked around about Pendr, hoping to get a chance to talk with him at night. No one had seen him, nor Captain Mux for that matter. The army as it stood now was led by Vice-Captain Becir, Mux’s second-in-command.

  For the next several moments, those around Danla speculated on the delay. Soon, Mistress Halima returned, a stern look on her face. “Eladrel and Danla, come with me.”

  Eladrel raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Danla. Calling for healers usually meant the worst—especially if more than one was needed. The soldiers stepped to the side to create a path for them to move forward.

  When they reached the front of the line, Danla did not see any wounded. What she did observe was something unexpected—a scenario none of the others had guessed.

  In the middle of the road knelt a young man with his hands raised. Several archers had their bows drawn and aimed at him, though to Danla he did not appear to be threatening.

  “He said there was a chance that one of the newer healers could verify who he is,” Halima said.

  “Rheq? What are you doing here?” Eladrel asked.

  The young man in the road visibly relaxed. “Thank the Light!” he said. “Eladrel, please tell these men pointing weapons at me that I’m on your side.”

  Danla thought the name Rheq sounded familiar, but she was not sure from where.

  “But are you on our side, Rheq?” Eladrel asked. “The last time we were together, you were the point man of our squad. We were ambushed, and you were nowhere to be found.”

  Several of the archers pulled back on their bowstrings a little more upon hearing the new information.

  With his hands still empty and above his head, Rheq said, “I didn’t betray you! I promise! I was scouting ahead, looking for shelter in the copse where you were attacked. I spotted the enemy just as the rest of you entered the wood. There was no way to warn you without being caught myself, and there were too many for us to fight off. I didn’t have a choice! It was either warn you about something which was already too late or stay hidden and try to find a way to help you later.”

  Vice-Captain Becir, a seasoned soldier with thinning hair and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, spoke to Eladrel. “Can you verify this man was once part of the king’s army?”

  “Yes, at least as far as I know. If I recall, he said he was from Umstead. He was one of the few of us that survived the attack which killed Sir Lokan. Pendr was also in the group—in fact, he was our leader. You can ask him.”

  Becir’s eyebrows knotted on his weather-worn forehead. “Pendr’s on another assignment. But clearly, you recognize him. You even called him by the name he had shared with us before you arrived at the front of the line.” The Vice-Captain shifted his attention back to Rheq. “Stand up, and explain where you have been since the day you went missing.”

  Lowering his hands, Rheq stood quickly by jumping to his feet. “Once the rest of my squad was captured, I had to find someplace safe. The land was covered with enemy soldiers. I worked my way back to Umstead, my home—but not as a deserter! I went back as a soldier to help my loved ones. I’m sure you have heard what happened to Umstead.”

  Danla had not heard of anything specific about the town, but rarely was information shared with the healers aside from possible incoming wounded from recent battles. However, the way Rheq spoke of his hometown made her believe something terrible happened there.

  “Aye,” Becir said. “I’ve read the reports. But that doesn’t explain where you have been during the winter.”

  “I came across a group of Gymads as I went to return north to find the king’s army,” Rheq said. “It was mutually beneficial for me to join them until the weather improved—they even clothed me which is why I’m no longer wearing my uniform. With the start of spring, I took my leave of them and continued to search for the king’s army so I could rejoin.”

  “And what of your shoulder?” Mistress Halima said. “You’ve been hurt. I can see that from here.”

  Rheq glanced down at the tear in his tunic to the red, swollen skin. “The woods are a dangerous place,” he said without elaborating.

  “One last question,” Becir said. “How did you know where to find us?”

  “It’s more like you found me,” Rheq said. “I’ve been traveling north. I came across this road. I heard you this morning, and from the top of that tree—” he pointed to a large oak which stood above the other trees on the side of the road, “—I spotted the king’s banner.”

  For a drawn-out moment, Becir remained
quiet. He then turned to Eladrel and asked, “Can he be trusted?”

  Eladrel seemed to consider the question carefully before responding, “He could have killed us in our sleep when he was on guard for the night while he was traveling with us. He’s got a temper, but he followed Pendr’s orders. I can’t say whether or not his story is true after he left us, but knowing what I know of him, yes, he can be trusted.”

  “Men, lower your weapons,” Becir ordered the archers. “Rheq, come forward so the healers can look you over—from the back of the line. We need to get moving.”

  Rheq jogged to where Eladrel, Danla, and Halima were standing. “Thank you,” he told Eladrel.

  Halima placed a hand on Rheq’s wounded shoulder. “Don’t thank him fully yet,” she said. “He’s going to be the one to heal you more completely. Now follow us.”

  The soldiers once again made a path for Mistress Halima and her group, which now included Rheq, to return to the other healers. Along the way, Rheq asked, “Back there, the man said Pendr isn’t with this army. Why not?”

  Danla perked up her ears at how Mistress Halima would respond. She was disappointed when the leader of the healers answered, “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 60

  “I find all of this to be unsettling,” Brother Mey said. He paced from one side of the room to the other. “I’m not trained to understand the myelur. I’m a protector.”

  Magistrate Cason had ushered Nestov and Mey out of the king’s throne room quickly. Two days had passed since the meeting with the king, and Nestov had yet to speak to Cason about the specifics of his mission. The magistrate said he needed to fetch an expert on such things as the myelur before talks could commence. If Cason were true to his word, that meeting would happen today, though Nestov was unsure exactly when.

  “And protect me, you have,” Nestov said. “I’m still alive, am I not?”

  Brother Mey stopped pacing and smiled lightly at Nestov’s remark. “I haven’t done much,” he said.

  “Not true,” Nestov said. “You’ve protected me from going crazy while we have had to wait.”

  “Crazy? Like the king?”

  Their meeting with King Viskum was exactly as Cason had warned them—disturbing. The king was suffering from memory loss, possibly due to his advanced age. In Nestov’s studies, he had come across a book on human health. One passage suggested that soldiers, especially those who had taken many blows to the head, were more likely to suffer the type of memory loss the king displayed. From what Nestov understood, the king had been quite the formidable fighter in his prime.

  “I think it best we not mention the king’s condition, even between the two of us,” Nestov said.

  “You’re right,” Mey said. He began pacing again. “I just wish we had more to do than just wait.”

  “Normally we could go to the library,” Nestov said, “but Cason said the meeting could happen as soon as this morning. I need the time to collect my thoughts.”

  The larger brother’s response was to nod and continue to walk back and forth in the room.

  A knock on the door sounded a little before mid-day. It was Magistrate Cason. He explained the king’s expert on the myelur had arrived and awaited them in one of the castle’s more private rooms.

  The magistrate, himself, led Nestov and Mey down a flight of stairs to the second floor. He brought them to a door of unremarkable make and style. Nothing about it suggested the room was any different than any of the others in this part of the castle. Maybe that’s the point—to hide it in plain sight.

  Cason knocked once, paused and then gave three short taps before entering. The room was well lit, despite the lack of any windows. An oval table sat in the middle, surrounded by padded chairs. On the far side of the table sat the room’s only occupant: a woman with bright, intelligent eyes.

  “May I introduce Mistress Sheric, she who counsels the kingdom in all things concerning the myelur,” Cason said. “Mistress Sheric, Brothers Nestov and Mey from Virqyna.”

  Sheric stood. She was of average height, but that was her only trait Nestov considered to be average. Her dark hair rested peacefully on her shoulders, and her olive skin was smooth and wrinkle free. Based on first impressions, Nestov could not guess her age, though her eyes—the feature he first noticed—indicated she was not as young as her physical appearance suggested.

  “Please, sit,” she said. Even her voice was pleasant.

  Cason closed the door before joining the rest of them at the table. Before Nestov could speak, Sheric said, “It appears those as far as Virqyna have detected it.”

  “You know why I’m here?” Nestov asked, unable to mask the surprise in his voice.

  “I believe so, if the magistrate told me true,” she said. “But, please tell me in your own words.”

  Nestov inhaled before responding. He had rehearsed what he would say numerous times, but that was under the assumption that he would have to explain not only the concept of the issue but then the issue itself. Sheric’s indication that she might already know much about the myelur caused Nestov to reconsider how he would phrase the situation. In the end, he decided to make sure they had a common base of understanding.

  “Abbot Aydomus, the leader of our order in Virqyna, has sent me. He is too weak, physically, to travel himself,” Nestov began. “He is wise when it comes to the myelur. I’ve been sent because he senses a shift—a change. ‘Portents of ill construction’ were his exact words.”

  Sheric folded her hands on the table in front of her. “And what were these portents?”

  “Forgive me, Mistress,” Nestov said, “I am just beginning to understand them myself. The abbot explained that there are certain … events … for lack of a better term, to indicate changes from the norm.”

  “Like how certain animals act strangely when a storm approaches?” Mey asked.

  “Something similar, yes,” Nestov said. “In this case, it is more like the ripples created by dropping a stone in water.”

  Sheric leaned forward. “That’s an apt analogy. My sisters and I have noticed these changes—ripples you might say.”

  “I don’t understand,” Magistrate Cason said. “What possible risk could this cause to the kingdom?”

  “Nature likes balance,” Sheric said. “The myelur is the same. In simple terms, there are three main aspects of the myelur—they work in harmony. Each one balances the rest. If one aspect becomes powerful or overly used, the other two compensate.”

  “Compensate? How?” Mey asked.

  “From our studies, it is believed the myelur is passed down from parents to children,” Sheric said. “Most of the time, the myelur is so weak that a person could have it and never know. Sometimes a person is born with greater access to one aspect of the myelur, which means that they are needed to counter an imbalance. On rare occasions, a person can access more than one characteristic of the myelur.”

  “So, this trouble of which you speak, is it because there is an imbalance in the myelur?” Cason asked. “Again, even if that is the case, why is it a threat?”

  For the first time since Nestov had met Sheric, he noticed her calm demeanor waver. “Often the parts of the myelur are referred to as colors: red, blue, and green. When they work in harmony, they create light. It promotes good in people, though we can’t say for sure why that is. But one of the aspects, green, has a fracture in it, of sorts. When exploited, it is what we call the yellow myelur. What also makes it different is its potency. It doesn’t have to be widely spread to make a big impact.”

  “But yellow is the color of the sun,” Mey pointed out. “How can that be bad?”

  “The colors are just a way to help categorize the aspects,” Sheric said. “They aren’t an exact representation of the powers.”

  “You are stating that this … yellow is bad?” Cason asked. “How?”

  Sheric clenched her hands in front of her tighter. “When yellow is mixed with red and blue, darkness is created. From historical records, it is this same
darkness which nearly destroyed the world of man millennia ago.”

  Cason’s face drained of color. “And you sense this happening again?”

  “Abbot Aydomus says he senses it,” Nestov said. “He senses that the yellow myelur is again being used, and it is so strong that it is creating an imbalance.”

  “I’m not sure I would agree that it is that dire, yet,” Sheric said. “If it were, my sisters and I would have acted upon it. The yellow myelur has been used—that we can sense. The myelur, itself, will usually resolve the imbalance on its own.”

  Nestov stood. The moment had arrived. He needed to make the abbot’s directive clear. “The reason I was sent was simple: Abbot Aydomus said that unless we seek out who is using the yellow myelur and stop him or her, it is not a matter of if, but when the darkness will return. He said the yellow hadn't been used in generations—that, by itself, is cause enough for alarm.”

  Cason addressed Sheric. “Is this true? The yellow has not been used for such a long period of time?”

  “Yes …” Sheric said slowly. “Yes, as I said, we believe, based on our studies, that the myelur will naturally resolve this on its own.”

  Though Nestov was much younger and inexperienced, he understood why the abbot sent him. He felt his cause slipping away. I have to be forceful. “My abbot disagrees. He claims that the myelur has kept the yellow from even being used at all until recently. Because it has been used, a point on which we agree, something must have changed to allow it.”

  “But what could that have been?” Cason asked.

  Good. He’s still considering what I have to say. “From what I was told,” Nestov continued, “those who can use the myelur, any aspect of it, usually have an event which triggers it. Healers, those who can use the green, can have it triggered in them by other healers. The blue and the red are often opened to keep the user from danger or something else traumatic.”

  “But what would cause the yellow to suddenly come back into use?” Mey asked. To his credit, Nestov’s protector had been following along.