The Dark Rider (Fading Light)

by Andrew Critchell

  ‘Join them,’ Myrkur commanded.

  Paul saw his hand reaching out, the pendant flaming blue. Within him he felt a deep release as the Rider shivered in anticipation. The key came closer as the man walked forward, the two objects leaning towards each other through the power of their attraction. Paul exhaled, heady with the Rider’s joy. His hand was in front of him. They key a mere two metres away. Beyond that he saw fear in the eyes of the man holding it but that was of no consequence now. All that mattered was the power that was about to be returned to him.

  Something white flashed across the corner of Paul’s awareness. He ignored it, his vision filled with blue flame. Then the sky became filled with ghostly streaks of white. Tearing his eyes away from the key Paul turned, surprise registering on his face. Several of the Serenti ringing the clearing were crumpling from their horses with blood gushing from jagged wounds across their throats.

  ‘No,’ hissed Myrkur’s voice.

  Paul saw them then. Pure white falcons appearing like ghosts from within the trees, flashing out from the darkness to stab at the surrounding Serenti with razor sharp talons. The recognition rose from within his consciousness, although it was not his.

  Gyr. The Guardians of the Key. The ones who had banished him. The Rider’s anger flamed within him and he raised his sword in readiness. Cries and screams filled the air as Serenti began to break out of the circle and regroup. Their arrows began to fill the sky.

  Paul watched as more falcons appeared. They slashed down from the sky and then flicked away hugging the ground where their forms shimmered and shifted and in their place ran Gyr warriors, bows flicking arrows into the groups of Serenti. Above him, lost in the infinite darkness, a single dark blue falcon tipped onto one wing.

  ‘Fools,’ hissed Myrkur’s voice as Serenti cavalry moved to run down the Gyr warriors. Paul watched as the first Gyr fell, a spear bursting through her sternum. Satisfaction from the Rider filled him. All around them Serenti were peeling away to join the pursuit as the first of the Gyr reached the trees.

  Another wave of falcons bore down, two groups from left and right, heading straight for them. Hundreds of arrows arced into the blackness. Myrkur spun his horse around and raised his hand. Jagged streaks of red flame erupted from his fingers like lightning reaching out towards the incoming falcons and as it touched one of them the Gyr simply disappeared in a maelstrom of dazzling red.

  Still the falcons came, diving through the arrows and jinking violently. One of them jerked and seemed to stop in mid air and then a blooded body was tumbling from the sky to crash into the ground with a sickening thump.

  ‘The Key,’ commanded Myrkur.

  Paul tore his eyes away from the scene to stare down at the man who was still holding the key out towards him, his eyes full of barely controlled terror. Crying out in glee the Rider reached forwards, his hand outstretched, almost touching. It was then he felt another presence at the edge of his awareness, growing stronger with every second. He recognised Gwen’s protector, the warrior Falk, knew it was too late but he twisted round anyway, bringing his sword up in an arc above him. A streak of dark blue seared across his vision before he even had a chance to register it. There was a flash of yellow and cruel glinting talons and then the bird was gone and the man who had been holding the key fell to the ground clutching his hand, his mouth open with screams.

  Hissing in rage Myrkur spun round, red fire reaching towards the falcon as it beat against the air to escape. A finger of red touched its wing just as it flung itself into a violent turn. The key tumbled from its talons falling into the trees.

  Paul dropped his sword, raising his hands to his ears as the Rider screamed within his mind. Something white flicked past him and he just had time to register the pure white falcon raking its talons across Myrkur’s back before searing agony erupted across his own. Myrkur turned, his pain screaming across the link between them. He raised his hand, red flame reaching up to take the falcon in mid-flight.

  Paul fumbled desperately with his armour trying to get it off as the pain intensified into a burning fire but his hands moved across smooth, unbroken metal and he stopped in confusion. Then he forced his hand behind the armour and down his back where he felt something hot and wet running between his fingers. He brought his hand out staring at the red blood smeared across his palm. Slowly he raised his head to take in the jagged tears across Myrkur’s back, tears that were in the same place as his own wounds. Gripped by sudden panic Paul searched inward, locating again the tainted knot around the old wound in his shoulder. He had buried it deep in his subconscious, wanting to forget, wanting to deny yet now he would have to face a truth that terrified him. Probing deeper he found it then. A piece of Myrkur’s own life force surrounding Gwen’s magic. A chilling cold clutched his heart as the implications tumbled into his mind. He was linked to Myrkur’s very life. Anything that happened to Myrkur would happen to him. If Myrkur was to be killed then he would die too. A sinking despair overwhelmed him as he realised the true cost of what Myrkur had done to save him. He stared into the lightless cowl in horror.

  ‘You understand the price now,’ snarled Myrkur as he sent more red fire up into the sky. Only a few falcons remained now flicking through the Serenti on the far side of the clearing. Black and white bodies littered the ground.

  ‘The Gyr are finished. The Key will be yours again.’

  Paul wanted to run away, to escape this nightmare. Paralysis gripped him as the Rider battled for control of his mind.

  ‘Now witness the end of the light.’

  A hiss escaped from the depths of Myrkur’s cowl and the Serenti still holding Nicola rode forward. She began to struggle against the grip holding her but it was no use. Paul watched in disbelief as Myrkur pulled a gleaming black knife from within his cloak and gestured slowly to the horseman. The Serenti came alongside him, Nicola’s eyes fixed on the blade, her body straining desperately. Slender white fingers reached out and gripped her head pulling it back to expose her neck. She screamed against the claw that was clamped around her mouth, her eyes flashing to Paul exposing him to her terror. Myrkur reached forwards, the black blade glinting as it moved towards Nicola’s throat. The tip of the blade touched her skin.

  Paul’s mind was spinning out of control. Glee from the Rider had taken his consciousness, taunting him as Nicola’s death became a reality. The realisation of his future lay before him like a dark path into the heart of a twisted, blackened wilderness. Even if he could stop the Rider from taking him completely he was now forever bound to Myrkur, his soul tainted with evil. He would never again be free. He would never love Nicola, never be with her again. He had nothing left. Acceptance spread within him, alongside the knowledge that he had one last gift to give. Suddenly everything became clear, his mind empty of everything except this one clarity. His future was now chosen through this one act, and through this act Nicola would live.

  A tremor of questioning surprise came from the Rider as Paul opened himself up in totality to the taint until his body burned with power. Hissing, Myrkur’s cowl turned towards him but he had already raised his sword, and it arced downwards as if in slow motion, cutting the frigid air along its length.

  ‘You will die,’ Myrkur hissed vehemently into Paul’s mind as he began to move his body, his arms swinging around, fingers beginning to glow with red flame.

  Now everything seemed to slow down. The tip of Paul’s sword still arced through the air heading towards the twisting form of Myrkur. The Rider was screaming in his mind as it saw its desperate longing for life and power being taken away from it. He felt Nicola’s eyes fixed on him and in that instant he rejoiced for truly he was saving her. As his sword ripped into Myrkur with all the tainted force and power he could manage, Paul opened his heart to her and said goodbye.

  Lightning seared from the impact of his sword, spearing across the clearing and sending trees into flame. Paul cried in pain, for he had never known anything like it. Searing agony tore through him from a poi
nt above his left elbow. He looked down to see his arm hanging uselessly by his side blood pouring from the sword cut that had partially severed the limb.

  A piercing screaming filled the air penetrating Paul’s eardrums and burning directly into his mind. He looked from his arm to the form of Myrkur now writhing on his horse, an identical wound on his left arm.

  Then the pain overwhelmed him and he fell backwards collapsing off his horse to land on the ground with a back wrenching crunch. Above him the stars shimmered but with each passing second they seemed to dim until all he could see was darkness.

  Nicola blinked hard trying to see past the lightning flashes still vivid in her vision. A roaring was filling the clearing, wind whipping at her hair and clothes. Around her the Serenti were flickering, their heads thrown back in a silent scream. Still burning in her mind was the image of Paul’s face as he struck Myrkur.

  He had not betrayed her.

  He had tried to save her.

  Feeling the grip around her lessoning Nicola pushed with all her might and found herself tumbling to the ground. She picked herself up, the gale now roaring in her ears. The Guardsman’s forms were moving around as if disjointed, the Serenti still in the clearing doing the same. Seizing her chance she ran past the remaining horseman to where Alex was still sitting struggling.

  Alex looked down to see Nicola standing below her, arms outstretched.

  ‘Help me,’ she screamed.

  Nicola jumped up trying to grab her leg but she could not reach.

  ‘You have to jump,’ she cried.

  Terrified Alex pushed against the cold metal of the Serenti’s armour, straining against the heavy arm that was trapping her. Suddenly everything gave way and she found herself falling forward. Below her Nicola moved to try and break her fall. Their bodies touched as they tumbled to the ground, the skin of Alex’s hand making contact with Nicola’s bare arm.

  A blinding white light expanded outwards.

  Nicola felt a gateway open within her mind. Knowledge and power flooded through her to meet the raw presence that was already within. Her consciousness expanded exponentially as she connected with the energy. She could see how to manipulate it, to meld it to her will, to shield herself and others so they left no trace for the Dark to follow. She saw how to defend and attack, to nurture and heal. Instantaneously she saw its weave within all the life surrounding her and within her. Centuries of experience and wisdom from all the Warders before her became accessible and seamlessly slotted itself within her very being. Urgently they began to speak to her through images, thoughts and feelings. They showed her how to draw a colossal amount of energy within her and construct a complex weave to pull herself and Alex away to safety. Nicola complied and then hesitated. The weave lay open before her, one last action being all that was required to complete it yet something was stopping her. Suddenly the possibility formed in her mind. With all this power surely she could save Paul?

  It was then that something called to her. She allowed a minute part of her awareness to examine the sensation and, as she looked deeper, she felt the fertilised egg inside her womb already lodging itself on the wall of her uterus.

  She was pregnant.

  Paul was the father.

  A complex wave of emotions threatened to engulf her yet she had to force herself to focus. Unaffected by Myrkur’s injuries, the wolves had regrouped and were moving again, sprinting across the clearing towards them. Pushing herself up, she reached for Alex, pulling her up with her. With seconds to spare she expanded her awareness, allowing her magic to sweep across Paul and her heart chilled to the core. He was barely alive, his soul corrupted with the taint in an intricate manner she did not understand.

  ‘Nicola,’ screamed Alex pulling desperately on her arm. Nicola turned, seeing the open jaws of the wolf as it leapt towards them. A desperate anger flared within her and instinctively she swung her free arm across the wolf’s path feeling the burning force rush down her limb to erupt in a wall of flame that engulfed the animal in a soul tearing scream of pain and death.

  The remaining wolves wheeled around them as Nicola staggered from the effects of the power. Still clutching her, Alex kept her upright and they stumbled forwards.

  Howling viciously the wolves regrouped. Nicola forced herself up straight, her mind still reeling from what she had done. Voices and feelings within her consciousness urged her to conserve her energy, to use less force. The wolves lunged forwards, coming at them from three sides.

  ‘Let go,’ Nicola cried to Alex who was still clutching her arm in panic. Wide eyed with fear Alex released her grip and Nicola spun round, fire arcing from her fingers to surround them with a wall of flame forcing the wolves away.

  ‘Paul,’ Nicola shouted hoarsely.

  ‘I know,’ replied Alex, tears running down her face. ‘You believe you can save him.’

  ‘How did you?’ mouthed Nicola in surprise.

  ‘You’re in my mind,’ cried out Alex as she fought against the torrent of alien emotions and feelings that were flooding into her consciousness through some kind of gateway.

  Blindly Alex followed as Nicola fought her way forwards surrounding them with arcs of fire. A few metres away her brother’s crumpled body lay twisted on the frozen ground.

  As Nicola approached she felt a sickly sensation crawling across her skin. A few steps away from Paul lay the form of Myrkur. Already Nicola could feel the overpowering waves of tainted power surrounding him, a rent within the fabric of life through which dark energy pulsed, touching everything and threatening to overwhelm her senses. The energy was moving, flowing around the wound in Myrkur’s arm and knitting the ragged flesh together. Something else began to ring alarm bells within her consciousness. Forcing her sight outwards she saw that all around the Serenti were reforming, their bodies no longer disjointed and flickering. A sickening panic jolted her body. Rushing forwards she knelt next to Paul placing her hand on his forehead and sending her power into his body yet she could not heal him for the taint was blocking her. Cursing she withdrew her hand just enough to renew the arc of fire that surrounded them but now the effort began to drain her.

  ‘Is he ok?’ cried Alex feeling Nicola’s fear and panic pouring into her mind.

  Shaking her head in despair Nicola placed her hands around Paul’s head once more. In desperation she poured all the power she could handle into him yet she could do nothing. All she could feel was that he was dying.

  ‘No,’ Alex shouted just as Nicola howled in frustration and banged her fists on his chest. Then the whinnying of a horse cut through the chaos of roaring flame and howling wolves. Turning Nicola froze in horror to find Myrkur towering above her on the great black warhorse, his shadowed cowl facing her, filling her soul with suffocating, choking evil. Paralysed, she watched in horror as he raised his right hand towards her. Red fire began to glow on his fingertips.

  ‘Nicola,’ roared a now familiar voice across the flames. She turned her head just as Falk jumped into the circle of fire, his right arm brandishing a broadsword, his left arm hanging bloodied and useless by his side. Lightning split the sky and Falk lunged forwards, sword outstretched, the blade intercepting Myrkur’s fire and sending it stabbing up into the night sky in jagged forks. Falk stumbled backwards with the impact, his face lit with red. In the same instant another figure flashed into the circle, a woman dressed in white, her features set with grim determination as she flew at Myrkur from the other side, her sword pointing at his ribs. Spinning his horse Myrkur parried with more fire, the woman rolling away from the barrage as it licked the ground all around her.

  ‘Get us out of here,’ Falk cried in fury and desperation. Nicola stared up at Myrkur, felt the power of his fury as the cowl turned towards her. She turned her head back to where Paul lay dying on the frozen ground now stained crimson red. Next to her she was aware of his sister, her mouth wide open and screaming. She saw all this but still she did not act for, despite everything, she could not abandon the one she loved to di
e.

  ‘Nicola,’ Falk roared in furious disbelief.

  As if waking from a dream she turned back. She saw Falk stagger as one of Myrkur’s guardsman raked his shoulder with a cruel looking sword. She saw the shock and pain in the Gyr’s eyes as an arrow tore into her upper arm and between them now she saw Myrkur, rising like an avenging angel. His arm was raised towards her again and the red fire was already tearing through the air towards her. Despair took her then, smothering her in a suffocating blanket of darkness for she knew she had no choice now but to leave him and a part of her died.

  Nicola closed her eyes, tears spilling from the lids, moisture beginning to stain her cheeks. Outside of everything she felt the power, the pulsing form of life that still flowed around them. She reached out for the weave she had made, expanding it to include Falk and the Gyr. She tried to take Paul as well but the weave would not hold on him. With a single tormented cry she opened herself up, the force roaring through her veins like wildfire. On the edge of it she felt Myrkur, his tainted fury trying to block her but he had not fully recovered and she knew she still had a chance. With one last effort she joined the weave she had made and then everything became darkness.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Nicola watched as the commuters began to fill the space below, a constant stream of dark clothed ants pockmarked with the occasional bright coloured jacket. Here and there small groups of people walked against the current, the flow parting and moving around them without conscious command.

  Her back straightened imperceptibly as Alex came into view. The woman hesitated at the edge of the open space and Nicola felt the fear and uncertainty in her mind.

  ‘Just act normal,’ Nicola whispered as she sent a calming pulse of energy across the space between them.

  After a moment Alex stepped out from the side of the building and began to walk towards the tube entrance, picking up her pace as she crossed the plaza. Nicola didn’t notice the involuntary intake of breath she took as Alex moved forwards, for she was too intent on watching, her senses straining for some sign, some signal that he was there, that he was still alive.