by M. R. Forbes
It flowed outwards from her, a stiff wind that bent the grass at her feet and slammed headlong into the monster.
Nothing happened.
"No," she cried. Her head felt like it was about to burst as she stumbled forward, landing on her knees, blood and salt mixing in her eyes and blinding her.
The creature didn't even notice.
There was nothing she could do but watch. The blade started its descent, gathering momentum.
Something shimmered in the air, throwing odd reflections of mist and light, turning end over end and smacking into the back of the monster. Where it hit, chips of flesh broke away, revealing a second layer underneath.
It stopped moving, lifted the sword again, and slowly turned.
Eryn looked back. Davin was on his knees, his head split open, blood running from a gash on his stomach. She didn't know how he could even be alive, let alone manage the strength to throw Silas' sword.
"It lives."
It started moving towards Davin, forgetting about Wilem. It raised its sword up in front of its face, still paying Eryn no mind.
She forced herself to stand and drew her own sword from her hip, barely able to lift it. She could see Wilem clearly now. His eyes were open, and his head had flopped over towards her.
"Eryn, get out of here," Davin cried. He was defenseless against the creature, too weak to even move.
She wasn't going to abandon him. She hobbled to where he was kneeling, falling across the monster's path and raising her sword.
It paused, its yellow eyes regarding her. Mist poured from its mouth in even puffs.
"It is brave. It is strong. It... is familiar."
It didn't move. It stared down at her, and she glared up at it, keeping the sword between them.
"It came in the subroute. It escaped. It hides. It hides. It hides. It hides."
The voice exploded in her head, forcing her to use every bit of resistance to keep from clutching at it. Her eyes watered and her ears began to bleed, and still the voice continued.
"It hides. It hides. It hides. It-"
She heard a cry from behind the creature, and then the tip of Silas' blade exploded through the heart of the monster in a flood of black blood. It didn't scream, or cry, or show any sign of pain or emotion. It just fell onto her, lifeless.
"Get it off," she said. She pushed against the creature, but it was no use. She was too weak, and it was so heavy. Its blood was spilling out onto her, and she could feel her clothes being soaked through. The blood was warm, almost hot. She struggled against its grip, becoming slick with its life force. The moisture helped her slide out from under it.
"Eryn?" Wilem was there, his face weary and covered in dirt. He held out his hand to help her up.
She ignored it. She turned herself around and crawled to where Davin was laying, his body draped across Saretta's. Dead.
"The cure," she said. "Wilem, we need the cure."
He knelt down next to her. "No, not yet. We only have three more vials, and we can't replace it. What we need is to rest."
"This is all my fault," she said, unable to hold back the tears any longer. "They're dead because of me."
She fell into Wilem's chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. The adrenaline fled and exhaustion caught up to them, leaving them both on the ground asleep within minutes.
###
There was no way to know how much time passed. When they woke, everything was just as they had left it, cast in the endless purple hued luminescence created by the fog.
Eryn's eyes were open, but she didn't move. She could smell the wood she had burned with her power, and the flesh that Wilem had burned with his. It was the scent that reminded her what had happened.
"Wilem?" She found his hand resting across her shoulders, and she took his arm and shook him. "Get up."
His hand shifted as he woke. "I fell asleep. I'm sorry."
She pushed herself away from him. Every muscle in her body ached, but she was able to stand without much difficulty. The dread she had been feeling wasn't gone, but it was greatly reduced.
"We need to bury them," she said, forcing herself to look at the corpses. She considered both of them friends. It was only right to see them safely to the arms of Amman.
"Here?" Wilem asked. "This place is evil." He stepped up next to her. "It was my magic that killed her," he whispered, his eyes red.
"It isn't your fault. Davin knew it. He saved your life." She kneeled down and pushed the mercenary's eyes closed. "That thing... The Curse was afraid of it." She looked back to where the creature lay face down in the grass. The area around it was dark with its blood. It reminded her that she was coated in it as well.
"It still is, but not as much. I have a bad feeling that there are more of them."
She had been thinking the same thing. She looked down at her clothes. They were stained, but the stains didn't look like any blood she had seen before. "It was immune to magic," she said. "I tried to knock it over, but it didn't even notice."
She remembered the way its skin had flaked away when Davin had struck it. She got back on her feet and approached it.
Sure enough, the area around the wound had also flaked away, revealing a layer of radiant metal beneath it. "It isn't skin," she said. "It's armor. Ircidium armor."
"No wonder your magic did nothing," Wilem said. "The Carriers wear ircidium armor, but I've never seen anything like this. Where are the seams? Where are the joints?" He bent down and lifted the monster's arm, straining to do so. The armor around the elbow looked creased, but it was all one piece. "Nobody can wear armor this heavy." He dropped it and then looked at his hands. They were covered in flakes of the deep red that coated it. He wiped it off on his pants.
"Let us see who is inside. Help me turn it over."
They positioned themselves on one side and took hold of the heavy arm, using it as a lever to flip the monster onto its back. It offered only the resistance of its weight, rolling over in a cacophony of scraping metal.
"How does it come off?" Wilem asked.
Eryn knelt over it, running her hands along the roughness of the flaky scales in search of a hidden seam. There had to be a clasp or something holding it on the wearer.
Her eyes landed on its fatal wound, and she gasped.
This can't be real. This can't be true.
She could see down into the wound. She didn't see any flesh.
"Wilem, can you make a small light, one that will fit in the wound?" She didn't have enough control to guide it.
"Ignus," Wilem whispered. A tiny light flitted over Eryn's shoulder and landed at the edge of the hole before diving in.
Eryn felt her heart begin to pound. There was still no sign of any living thing beneath the metal suit. She got to her feet and found Silas' sword laying in the grass. She picked it up and examined the black blood that clung to the metal. She brought it to her face. It didn't smell like blood. It smelled musky and slightly sweet.
"What are you doing?"
"There's nobody in there," she said, taking the sword and stabbing it into the armor. She sawed with the blade in a line along its chest, and then shifted and cut another. As she did she heard a click, and the whole chest opened.
What she saw confused her, amazed her, and frightened her.
There were ircidium rods attached to ircidium gears, attached to strange rubbery strands that lined the underneath of the thick ircidium shell and a secondary set of clear strands where random drops of the dark liquid still hung. The strands spread along the guts of the creature in an intricate patchwork she didn't understand, but she traced the bulk of them back to the center of the chest, where a thick ball of ircidium rested. It swung open as she watched.
The crystal inside was pitch black and nearly opaque, and she could feel the energy pouring out the moment the ircidium was no longer blocking it. It soaked into her, and she felt a rush of excitement and happiness at the sight.
"It's amazing," she said. "Beautiful." She reached out
to touch it.
"Eryn, don't." Wilem smacked her hand away, and then reached into the monster's chest and pushed the tiny door closed.
It was like jumping in a cold river. The excitement vanished, leaving her feeling empty and alone. She stared at the ball. "It's ebocite, isn't it?"
"I don't know what ebocite looks like, but if I had to guess, I would say so. I felt such a pull towards it. That I wanted it more than anything."
"So did I. How did you fight it?"
"I was ready to hurt you to get it. I didn't like that."
She smiled at him. "Really?"
He nodded.
"Thank you for caring for me," she said. "I care for you, too." She blushed. "In case you hadn't guessed already."
His voice was soft. "I hope we survive long enough to escape this place. I hope we have more than these few days together. You are a wonder to me." He smiled at her, a hopeful, sad smile. "We should see to Davin and Saretta, and make sure they didn't die for nothing." He looked back towards the plume of mist that was rising at the center of the Dark. "As much as it frightens me here, the thought of what we don't know frightens me more."
"It seems strange, doesn't it? They call this place the Dark, and yet I have the impression that the world beyond this valley is where we are truly in the dark."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Wilem
They buried Davin and Saretta together at the base of the wood, placing them side by side in a deep ditch dug out with the help of the monster's massive sword. It too was made of ircidium, and that made it light enough for Wilem to manage for the job, though he had no intention of keeping it. The size was fine for an eight foot metal man. It was unmanageable for a much smaller 'wizard'.
That was what the creature had called them. Wizards. They had seen the word before in Jeremiah's journal. He had called himself a wizard. Did that mean he had the Curse, or was there something more to it? A different kind of power, or the same power? Wilem didn't know, and couldn't guess.
It was clear the thing recognized them by their magic, and was able to communicate with them through it. Was it the ebocite that made it possible? Or was it that the thing was powered by magic itself? Had it been in the valley since it had been abandoned, waiting to kill any who tried to enter? An adventurer had managed to get in and take Jeremiah's journal, and nearly escape with it. Had he somehow evaded the creature? If so, how?
There were so many questions, and so few answers. As they made the trek through the line of dead trees towards the center of the Dark, they argued back and forth about what it all meant. It was a good argument, a healthy argument. In other circumstances, Wilem would have enjoyed it so much more. Even so, the comfort of the exchange only cemented his feelings.
Not only that, but Eryn had admitted to some of them herself.
The truth motivated him to keep fighting against the fear that threatened to chase him from this place. He was certain that he would do whatever he could to protect her.
He laughed at the thought.
She is the last person here who needs protection.
He had heard the voice of the metal giant. It had said she was familiar, before it lost its mind. There was something about her that it recognized, something in her that it knew.
"What do you think it meant, when it said 'it hides'?" Eryn asked.
They were halfway through the graveyard of trees. The plume of mist had continued to grow thicker and larger in front of them, proving that it was much more grand than they had originally realized. They had no indication of anything else alive with them, and his Curse had remained quiet.
"I don't know. It sounded angry, like it was upset that something was hiding from it. What puzzles me more is that it acted as if it thought it knew you, and was trying to tell you about it. Almost as if to warn you."
"I don't like the sound of that."
"I don't either. It doesn't make sense. It clearly didn't like wizards, and it wanted to keep us out of this place. Why did it pause? Who are you?"
Eryn stopped walking. "Right now, I wish I knew. I wish Silas were here."
They stood silently together, working through their thoughts.
"Maybe Silas was descended from one of the wizards who live here?" Wilem said at last. "That would make you a descendant as well. What if it knew that somehow?"
"It could be. Do you think it wanted me to help it find whatever was hiding?"
"I don't know, but if the metal man was afraid of something, I think we should do everything we can to let it stay hidden."
"I agree."
They continued walking, covering the remaining distance within a few hours. The plume of mist spewed up a hundred feet in front of them, pouring into the air without a sound, as big as the palace in Varrow and so thick that even the purple hue couldn't penetrate it.
"I don't see anything," Wilem said.
They had been hoping that once they grew near there would be a cave, or a door, or something obvious to signal that there was anything in the Dark besides the mist and the metal man.
What would he be trying so hard to protect if there wasn't?
Instead, there were the dead trees, the dead grass, and the fog. If Eryn hadn't been with him, he was sure he would have gone insane from the loneliness of it all.
"It must be inside," Eryn said. "Take my hand, and don't let go no matter what. We don't want to get separated."
Wilem reached out and took her right hand. She held her sword in her left.
"If anything attacks us, try to steer me towards it."
"Instead of running away?"
She smiled. "If we run we may get turned around and lose our sense of direction. I'm counting on you to stay facing forward. I'll protect you."
He was sure she would. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. He shifted his shoulders, making sure Davin's pack was secure there. "I'm ready."
They walked forward, back into the mist. They were blind four steps later, the already dense fog growing thicker and thicker as they moved. By the twentieth step they began to struggle to breathe. By the thirtieth it felt as though they were pushing against it, like trying to walk through water.
"We can't make it," Wilem said. He tried to take a deep breath, sucking down the vapor. He felt its weight in his lungs and little else.
"We have to." Her voice croaked. There was no air for the sound to ride on.
"No. Eryn, we need to turn around. I can't breathe. There has to be another way." He clutched her hand tighter and started to turn.
She pulled against him. "Then we need to run for it," she said. "Get as much air as you can and hold it."
"What if we don't make it? What if we're too far away and there's nothing in front of us? We're going to die."
"We're not going to die." She sounded angry. Her fingers dug into his hand and she tugged him forward. "Get as much breath as you can."
Wilem sucked in the mist and spit it out as quickly as he could. He could feel the oxygen collecting and the feeling of choking recede. Eryn squeezed his hand again.
They ran.
He lost count of how many steps they took. They moved as fast as they could, arms and legs flailing, fighting to keep their hold on one another. They raced into the fog, feeling it solidify further as they moved, dragging against them and threatening to bring them to a stop.
His lungs burned, his muscles ached. All he wanted was to open his mouth and exhale, and to try to inhale again. He whole chest was on fire, and he didn't want to die.
Eryn kept going, so he kept going. He couldn't believe how long she was able to hold her breath. His eyes began to water and droop, and still they ran. The mist was trying to stop them, like phantom hands gripping at their arms and legs, but they denied it. They kept moving, kept fighting, even as the white blindness began to fade to black. Even as their bodies started to shut down.
They were near collapse when they gave one last shove through the wall of vapor, miraculously falling through. They tumbled ont
o the ground, laying on their stomachs and taking huge gulps of air.
"I'll never complain about anything else, ever again," Wilem said, once he was able to speak. "That was terrifying."
Eryn rose on her elbows next to him. "I knew you could-" Her eyes widened. "Do you see that?"
Wilem lifted his head up. He noticed now that the grass beneath him was green, and something was casting a shadow ahead of them. A shadow?
He rolled over. The bright blue sky greeted him. It was daytime.
"The sky," he said.
"No, not the sky. That."
He shifted his head so he could see what she was looking at. It wasn't hard to find, because it rose hundreds of feet into the air. A tower. A shimmering tower made of ircidium.
The metal reflected the light from the sky, catching it and throwing it out into the mist. They could see if diffuse as it entered the fog way up above, shooting away in rainbow colors before settling on a purple hue.
"Amazing," Eryn said. "The mist hides the tower, so that it can't be seen from the edges of the valley."
"Look, there's a door."
It was minuscule against the immense scale of the structure, a single archway defended by a pair of wooden doors.
"If a man made of ircidium and magic, and suffocating fog can't keep us out, I don't expect a door will give us much trouble," Eryn said.
Wilem smiled and got to his feet. He was still holding Eryn's hand, so he circled in front of her and pulled her up.
"How could you be so sure we would make it?" he asked, looking down into her big brown eyes.
"I made a promise," she replied. "Giving up isn't an option."
"I... I... Uh..." His heart filled with emotion and he was tempted to say it, to give voice to his feelings, but he stopped himself. She had made a promise, and he wasn't going to complicate it with his own desires.
I love you.
"What is it?" she asked, her eyes searching his.
I love you.
He didn't say it. He couldn't imagine telling her, and then dying and leaving her alone. Instead, he smiled sheepishly, his face turning crimson. "It's a bit embarrassing. I have to relieve myself."