The Darkness of Glengowyn

by Isabo Kelly

  “Then we won’t be able to wait here?”

  “Probably not. They’ll be looking for us again.”

  She stared out over the streets, surprised the idea of leaving this little island of quiet made her sad. It wasn’t exactly luxurious accommodations, but it had kept them safe through the day and given them a place to be together again. Leaving meant facing reality and consequences.

  Einar gripped her chin and turned her face back toward his. He was closer now, his gaze direct when he said, “We’ll face what we must together. I won’t let the Sorcerers have you.”

  “What of the queen?”

  “She won’t take you away from me either. Not again.”

  Her breath shivered out of her, but she firmed her shoulders and pushed back the worry. “When should we leave?”

  He studied the street below, and she watched the side of his face as he thought and considered. Finally, he nodded as if confirming something to himself.

  “We’ll leave now, go slowly and carefully. I don’t want to get caught far away from the meeting point at dawn because we were forced by minion activity to move in the opposite direction.”

  “What if there’s no safe place nearby to wait?”

  “We’ll find something.” He looked back at her. “You only have two arrows left. Keep my knife with you and don’t hesitate to use it, on minion or elf.”

  She swallowed. “It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, killing the traitor yesterday.”

  “No. It isn’t. Some deaths are easy to mete out.”

  “But I’m not you.”

  He touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers before dropping his hand. “And I’m very grateful for that. You are, however, noble and just. Your actions come from that part of you. Not the place where my abilities come from.”

  Because he’d broached the subject, she asked, “Will banishment…make things…difficult for you? In that regard.”

  Tilting his head, he frowned as if she’d asked him something nonsensical. “I would welcome a reprieve from the Darkness.”

  “But for how long?”

  “To be with you? Forever.”

  Her throat tightened again. In that moment, with the Shaerta still a tangible thing between them, he could speak of forever and no regrets. He could be sure the violence that made him who he was would just go away. But, for his sake, she couldn’t afford the luxury of that assurance. She didn’t push him further though. They had to survive the night.

  And face the queen.

  They collected the remaining fruit from their food stores and the little bit of water in their sacks, strapped on their weapons and left their sanctuary as carefully and quietly as they’d entered it that morning.

  A cold breeze hummed through the city, kicking up dust and debris from the cobbles. She tugged the remains of her riding robe tighter around her and followed Einar through the shadows, keeping her attention on the streets and alleys at their back while Einar focused on what was ahead.

  They traveled slowly, sticking to the deepest dark pools at the sides of buildings and in narrow passageways. Most of Noman’s Land remained black, with only the occasional gas lamp to provide any light, so staying to the shadows was easy enough. As they skirted one of the rare lit lamps, Nuala couldn’t help but wonder who was lighting them, the humans or the Sorcerers.

  The first sounds of booted feet sent them down a side road, into a blackness between buildings she had trouble navigating. She kept a hand on Einar’s lower back so she wouldn’t lose him and allowed him to lead her to a more open street a block away.

  While waiting to make sure their way would be clear, he leaned in and said, “That sounded like humans. But farther away, I heard carriage wheels.”

  That made her frown. His hearing was significantly better than hers, despite how acute hers was, but that wasn’t what bothered her. Why a carriage in Noman’s Land? What were they moving that couldn’t just walk? And who was moving the mysterious something? A carriage was too easy to hear, too easy for two lone elves to hide from. It made no sense to bring something so awkward and noisy into a search, if the carriage belonged to the Sorcerers, not when there were more than enough minions to scour the streets on foot. And she couldn’t think of a single reason the Sinnale might send a valuable carriage into Noman’s Land.

  “Stay alert,” Einar said, then led her across the open street to yet another set of quiet shadows circling what had once been a greenery-filled square.

  They edged through the blocks so slowly, so carefully, it felt as if the journey that should have taken a short time took half the night. Nuala’s muscles remained tense as she kept alert for movement and sound. Maintaining that kind of vigil wore on her, and exhaustion crept through her body with the passing minutes.

  As they waited, yet again, while Einar assured himself of their way, she rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to release some of the tension and pressure. She’d be no good in a fight if her body was already too tired to react because she’d gotten tight from containing her fear.

  The goblin war had been… Not easier. Still tense, still exhausting. But the constant action and battles had kept her too busy to spend much time thinking and worrying. There were only a few quiet moments, a few brief respites during which to consider the fear in her gut. Einar had always distracted her with conversation during those quiet times. This was different. Though they were moving, the tension of hiding and remaining silent while others hunted for them didn’t keep her from thinking and considering the worst.

  She would not allow the Sorcerers to take her. Or to kill Einar, if she could help it. Unfortunately, she was woefully undertrained for a fight, and she kept imagining Einar’s death. Even the thought clogged her throat and brought tears to her eyes. To actually see such a thing…

  Rolling her shoulders, she pulled in a deep silent breath, held it, then let it out slowly through her nose, releasing the building panic. So far, they’d avoided the various patrols—both human and minion. They were nearing the rendezvous point. Safety was in sight. They’d both survive this.

  Einar held their position for longer than at any other part of their journey, his body so still she reached out to touch his back just to assure herself he was breathing.

  Leaning in close, she said, “What’s wrong?”

  He held up a hand for silence. After another torturous few moments passed, he turned and spoke into her ear, his voice barely audible. “Minions have surrounded the area near the meeting point. Several contingents. Something has given the location away.”

  “Where?” she mouthed, knowing he would hear without her having to make more than the barest of sounds.

  “In the buildings. On the rooftops. I’ve spotted them in at least three different locations, so far. The center of their positions is the sector of Sinnale border where Ulric is supposed to meet us.”

  “Will the humans come if there are so many minions waiting?”

  He didn’t immediately answer, and his silence made her already jumping heartbeat speed.

  “They may be there already,” he finally said. “That could be why so many minions have gathered. We’re not close enough for me to see.”

  “They’ll wait for us. They won’t start fighting yet.”

  “There’s some time before dawn. We’re not safe here, but I can hear minions moving in behind us.”

  His comment startled her. She directed her attention back to the area they’d already passed through, and now she could hear the faint sound of marching, several blocks away but moving swiftly in this direction.

  They were surrounded.

  Chapter Nine

  “Now what?” Nuala said, leaning closer to Einar as the tension that had carried her through the streets turned to full-fledged fear.

  He stared up at the sky as if in thought, and because she trusted him, she didn’t interrupt. But the sound of approaching footsteps sent her pulse racing. She slipped her bow over her head, readied one of her two remain
ing arrows, and faced the path behind them, watching their backs.

  An intolerable few moments passed in silence and anticipation of attack, reminding her of their ride in to Sinnale and the knowledge that they would be attacked at some point in their journey. Then Einar sucked in a deep gulp of air.

  “We’ll have help in a moment,” he said against her ear.

  She frowned up at him, about to ask what help, when slight movement from the corner of her eye made her pause. She looked toward the sky. Past some of the lower rooftops, she caught flashes of white, gliding silently in their direction. It took her a beat to realize what she was seeing. Owls. A lot of them, approaching in a fast, silent mass from the direction of Glengowyn.

  She gripped Einar’s arm. “They’ll be hurt.”

  “Watch. And follow my direction.”

  She kept her gaze on the approaching birds, the readied bow and arrow in hand. The mass swished overhead, silent except for the beat of their wings. In that pass, a few shouts rose from the surrounding buildings, and Nuala spotted a number of minions pointing toward the sky. To her horror, she watched as one drew back the string on his bow. But before he could fire, something dark dropped from the sky, hitting him on the very top of his head. The man collapsed without even a shout to indicate he was hurt.

  Nuala looked up to see even more owls, circling above the area. One by one, they dropped low, released something from their talons, then climbed quickly back to join the others. More shouts rose from around them, echoing through the streets. Arrows launched into the sky, but the owls kept high and beyond their reach. Then another volley of arrows filled the air, this one aimed at the rooftops, toward the minions.

  Chaos erupted then. Arrows flew. The sound of swords clashing rang. Minions poured out of the surrounding buildings as human soldiers charged into the streets. A full-blown assault filled the early hour before dawn with noise and madness.

  “This helps us?” she asked Einar as she glanced back toward the owls. The mass of white circled farther away, near enough to return if needed but well beyond the reach of the combatants’ weapons.

  “We can move through chaos. Without this, we were dead.”

  She hoped he was right. But when he stepped out from their cover and into the street, toward the fighting, she didn’t hesitate to follow. His sword in one hand, he edged her through the conflict, easing them toward the border. She kept her bow readied but angled down. With only two arrows and a knife, she had to be careful how she used her weaponry.

  A minion spotted them and turned to attack, only to be cut down by a human soldier before she could speak. The human stared at them a moment, and then was distracted by more minions.

  “We’re in as much trouble from the humans out here, aren’t we?” she shouted to be heard above the cacophony.

  “Yes. We need to find Ulric.”

  Their path was blocked by three minions, all of them with a blank, dead look on their faces. The lack of emotion didn’t take away from the wicked-looking edges on their blades. They attacked en masse, and Einar met them, sword raised. Nuala put her back to a wall and kept an eye on the fighting behind them, ready to use those last two arrows.

  She jumped when a hand grabbed her wrist, but recognition of that touch sank in before she even faced Einar. He tugged her farther up the street, passing the three minions he’d killed so quickly.

  They ducked into doorways to let individual fights slide past and edged around what they could. When minions attacked them directly, Einar dispatched them. Only one or two humans made an attempt to reach them, but each time they were turned away by minions. Since Nuala didn’t want to risk having to kill a Sinnale, she was grateful the battle chaos prevented any humans from getting to them.

  As they neared the border, the fighting grew thicker, heavier. The volley of arrows more dangerous. They kept to cover, but several missiles clattered near their feet. Nuala clenched her jaw tight to keep from screeching in surprise. The battle grew too thick to navigate, and Einar was forced to engage more enemies, beating a swath through the swarms of bodies.

  She covered his back, keeping close enough to follow but far enough away to prevent hindering him. She used her last two arrows efficiently to end a charge by three minions. Then she turned to the knife, slicing a threat when anyone got too close. But Einar was a force in battle, unlike anything most of these humans had seen. It was all they could do to avoid his blade.

  Unfortunately, the current of the fighting pulled him too far away, and suddenly she was alone and surrounded by dead-eyed minions. The stench of rot that clung to them wafted toward her. At the edge of the circle, humans continued to pick their former city mates off one by one, but the four that focused on Nuala approached without pause.

  She raised the knife, preparing to defend herself. Above the screams and clashes of metal, she heard her name bellowed. Beyond the approaching four, she saw bodies actually flying through the air to slam into brick walls. Einar. Becoming the warrior so feared by elves and goblins.

  The four closing in on her didn’t realize the Darkness was coming for them.

  Two of them vanished so quickly from in front of her she didn’t even see Einar take them. One moment they were there, the next they were gone. The remaining two continued forward as if they didn’t notice the others had disappeared. The nearer they got, the stronger that faint hint of decay that emanated from them grew. The scent had surrounded her as they’d worked through the crowds, but now she seemed to home in on it, a primal part of her recognizing the meaning and gagging at the thought of the twisted magics that caused that smell.

  From the surrounding madness, Einar appeared. He plucked up one of the remaining two attackers and launched him into the nearest group of fighters, sending all of them into a crumpled heap of bodies—Sinnale and minion alike.

  Nuala gasped. She hadn’t seen Einar like this in centuries. And then only once, because she’d been so carefully kept back behind the front lines. A small group of goblins had tried to infiltrate their camp, purely by chance stumbling across her tent. The elf warrior who came to her rescue was like nothing Nuala had ever seen. Cold, focused madness, speed and a kind of anger that cut down all in its path.

  When the goblins had been slaughtered, singlehandedly, and Einar stood barely breathing heavily in the aftermath with blood dripping from his sword and body, his reputation as the Darkness was sealed for all time. Those who’d witnessed the destruction he’d wrought would never forget that sight.

  Nuala never had. Seeing him in that same state of cold rage now spiked her pulse and sent a new kind of fear through her. Fear for him and what this might do to him. She knew this would cost him, cost his soul. She was probably the only one who did. Yet she was awed by the sight, the beauty of something so deadly, so powerful…protecting her.

  The fourth minion was a bloody splotch on a nearby building before he fully turned to face the danger. Einar roared and those near him fled, both human and minion. The sound even made the hairs on Nuala’s nape rise. Though the fighting continued, it moved away from them, leaving them in a circle of calm emptiness.

  He faced her and she watched him physically work to control himself, to return to a more natural state. His eyes were black. Blood ran in rivulets across his face and body. The thought that some of that might be his sent her to his side. No other elf would approach him like this. But she knew he’d never hurt her.

  “Are you wounded?” she asked, examining him with her eyes and hands without waiting for his answer.

  “Nothing of consequence.”

  “This is mostly their blood then.” She confirmed that with her cursory exam. “Good.”

  Her comment seemed to surprise him, though she wasn’t sure why, and the last of the battle madness eased from his eyes.

  “You aren’t hurt?” he said, his voice rough.

  “Of course not. You didn’t give them time to get close. Thank you. I’m not that good with the knife.” She touched his cheek. “I’m
sorry for this, though.”

  Before he could answer, a scream of attack rose up to invade their circle of solitude. Einar spun to face the threat, pushing her behind him. But before the minion closed, an arrow thwacked into his chest, directly through his heart. He hit the ground face first, sword still raised above his head. The fall broke the arrow and the puff of a dying spell reached out to tap at Nuala’s magic.

  An elf arrow. She looked toward the alley from which the arrow had flown just as another elf approached them from farther up the street. Not a traitor this time, though. Nuala’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Ulric.”

  Her cousin greeted them with a sharp nod, and he and Einar grasped wrists in a soldier’s solute.

  “You’re well, both of you? Injuries?”

  “Nothing significant. We must get her to the safety of the border.” Einar wasted no time with pleasantries.

  From the alleyway Nuala had been half watching, a Sinnale woman approached, her bow in hand but without an arrow nocked in place. She was a striking woman, with short brown hair, sharp features and deep brown eyes.

  Einar looked at her in surprise then said to Ulric, “You allowed her into battle? I thought…”

  Ulric rolled his eyes and the woman smirked. “I had very little say in keeping her away. Stubborn woman.”

  The woman introduced herself to Nuala. “I’m Layla Brightarrow. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you in person, Nuala of Glengowyn. Your cousin has sung your praises.”

  “Ulric’s mate.” Nuala understood the surprise. Ulric was so protective of his mate, Nuala hadn’t even met her yet, though the woman had been to Glengowyn several times to negotiate for weapons. Obviously, Nuala had drawn the wrong conclusions—she’d assumed by Ulric’s protectiveness that Layla wasn’t much of a soldier. But this thin, tall woman held the bow like it was part of her, and she didn’t look at all shaken by the chaos.