Breaking the Gloaming

by J. B. Simmons

  “What happened?” Lorien’s tone was serious. “You have returned from Sunan. I expected a triumphant entry. You look defeated.”

  Ravien glanced over Lorien’s shoulder. The nurse-maid was attending Mailyn and the baby while Jon stood close by.

  “I need to speak with Andor now,” Ravien said. “I’ll tell you more on the way, but this cannot wait.”

  Lorien nodded. She took Ravien’s arm, and led them out. It was the middle of the night. The halls of the palace were empty.

  Lorien began to question Ravien about what happened. At first, Ravien tried to hold it back, to focus on what needed to be done now. But Lorien was persistent. She pried the way only a sister could, and soon Ravien began letting the story seep out.

  “The boy king returned from his meeting with Andor in a rage,” Ravien heard herself saying. “I had never seen him like that. He was always light-hearted, if petulant. His life had lacked challenge and opposition. Whatever Andor did during their meeting triggered something in him.”

  “I was in his quarters on the ship,” she continued, “when he came back. Jezebel, Cid, and others were there, too. He pointed to me as soon as he stormed in. He had a different look in his eyes. The boy I had taunted, the young man who had enjoyed me as a foreign ornament—that person was gone. It was as if wounded pride, fury, and lust possessed him and propelled him toward me. I fought him at first. I landed a punch, a knee to his groin. I bit his lip. It all made him more determined. He had guards pin me down, spears at my neck, while…while he forced himself on me.”

  “When it was over,” Ravien shuddered and hugged herself tight. “When it was over, he shouted that he never wanted to see me again. Cid escorted me out. No one tried to stop us when we left the ship. There was too much confusion. No one paid us any attention until Cid and I boarded an empty Sunan boat and he pulled the anchor and set sail.

  “Then the Sunans on shore sprang into action. They boarded other vessels and came after us. But Cid had a head start, and the man is a genius on a boat. He had picked one of their scout ships, the fastest kind, and we put distance between our pursuers and us as we rounded the cliff where the Tyne meets the sea. By the time we sailed into the harbor, the Sunans had given up. I used the passageway our father once showed us to come here. Now,” Ravien steeled her voice, “I must tell Andor what is coming.”

  Lorien was staring at her with tears running down her cheeks. Ravien realized they had stopped walking. They had reached the long hall that led to the prince’s chambers. Two guards stood on either side of the ornate doors at the far end of the hall.

  She felt her sister’s hands on either side of her face, turning her head gently. She met Lorien’s eyes.

  “It was good to let some of that out,” Ravien whispered, her eyes moist. “But I cannot mourn this now.”

  “My sister,” Lorien answered, “I am mourning for you.”

  Lorien wiped her cheeks and closed her eyes for a long moment. When they opened, Ravien saw a power in her sister—a woman who stared the worst pain and suffering in the face, acknowledged the evil, and then overcame it.

  “I will take you to Andor now,” Lorien said. “I would hear your news of what is to come as well. Let’s face it together, just as we’ll face the past together when the time is right.”

  She took Ravien’s arm again and walked to the doors. The guards swung them open without a word.

  Andor, Ulysses, and two other knights were inside, leaning over a map on a table. The prince looked up, his face tired.

  “This is unexpected.” He walked over and took Lorien’s hand, seemingly ignoring the surprise guest. “Come, join us.”

  As they moved to the table, Ravien realized she was disappointed. Her arrival was supposed to be grand and triumphant. It seemed the prince had little warmth.

  “You and Wren left with little trace.” Andor locked his unnerving eyes with hers. She’d forgotten how fierce he could look. “I would know what you’ve been doing among our enemies. And what about Wren?”

  She fought to keep His Excellency’s face out of her mind, but there it was. A young face, a shaved head, an evil smile.

  “We believe,” the prince continued after she hesitated, “that the battle will begin with the morning. Can you tell us more about their position? You’ve come from their fleet?”

  “I just arrived.” Ravien nodded. She put her finger on the map. “The Sunan leader camps in his ship here. A smuggler named Cid helped me escape. He stole a boat and sailed around the cliff to the harbor.” She dragged her finger along the path on the map.

  “We have met this Cid,” the prince said. “He gave us the Sunan king’s message about today’s meeting.”

  “I do not know if we can trust him after today,” Ulysses said, “him or anyone who has been among the enemy.” He looked down at the map. “The Sunans are spread along the entire beach.” He pointed to the forest on the far left side of the map. “They stretch all the way to here, where they are cutting our trees to build siege weapons. Already they have rams for the gate.” He glanced up at Ravien. “What else do you know?”

  “The Sunan warriors are restless, anxious for battle,” Ravien replied. “One of their high priests had convinced their young king to seek peace first. Whatever happened between you,” she did not try to hide her anger as she stared at Andor, “was a devastating failure for the boy. He is in a destructive rage. They will attack soon, I am sure of it.”

  “Where will they focus the fight? And when?” Andor pressed her.

  “My love,” Lorien spoke from between them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Ravien has had a very hard journey. I know this is an urgent, testing night, but let her speak. All she has done is out of loyalty to Valemidas.”

  Andor took a deep breath and held it in. He slowly let it out and motioned for Ravien to continue.

  “Their thin line was intended to allow an easy escape, or a change of plans, if needed.” Ravien found some comfort in reciting simple facts. “They are not accustomed to this cold, nor do they have the supplies for a long siege. Their attack will be sudden and intense. Their numbers triple ours, at least. While the men wear hardly any armor, they fight with unmatched discipline and coordination. Most of them have trained together in legions since they were children. For those reasons, you might be tempted to stay inside our walls and defend with caution.”

  Ulysses and the other two knights nodded agreement. Andor wore a hard, suspicious glare. Lorien had taken Ravien’s hand in hers at some point.

  “I understand that temptation,” Ravien continued, speaking faster, “but you must listen to me. At dawn, you must send our best knights out from the walls, because at dawn, an explosion will rip open the cliff by the beach. It will break open the Gloaming, and we must seize the chaos to strike at the heart of their army. We must crush their leader and those around him.” She slammed a fist down on the table. “Kill the little boy-god and you cut off the army’s head. It will flail like the body of a headless snake.”

  The knights were leaning back, away from her.

  “The Gloaming?” One of the knights asked.

  “The Gloaming,” Andor said, “is a city of prisoners beneath us. How will this explosion happen?” he asked Ravien.

  “Sebastian has been stockpiling all the black powder of the Icarians. He has filled barrels with it. They are hidden within a crevasse of the cliff, out of sight, but positioned perfectly to splinter the rock and unleash the Gloaming.”

  “Do you have any proof of this?” Andor asked.

  Ravien pulled out the agreement and unrolled it on the table before Andor. “Read this.”

  The others stood around the table in silence as Andor leaned over the parchment and read it. There were marks of blood by the three names at the bottom. Andor’s face was ashen when he looked up.

  “I have many questions,” he began, “but we must set actions in motion now. We need to send a message to Tryst, in hopes that he is alive and has some
control down there.”

  “I will go,” Ulysses volunteered. “He knows me, and he will heed my words.”

  “We cannot afford to lose you.” Andor was shaking his head. “And what about your son? Would you not fight by his side tomorrow?”

  “My son has grown and my wife has passed on. You can afford to lose me for a day. I will return, or you will come and get me. Jon understands our strategy and our resources, and the men love him. Put him in my place tomorrow. Based on what you have said about the Gloaming, I believe the men down there will fight whoever is in their path as they flee out of the cliff. You need someone like me to guide them toward the Sunans. We will form an eastern flank, while Jon leads a western charge.”

  Andor clasped Ulysses’s shoulder and nodded. He turned to one of the knights. “Go to Jon now. Bring him here.”

  “Yes, my prince.” The man bowed and hurried out the door.

  “Find Sebastian,” Andor commanded to the other knight.

  “Yes, my prince.” He followed the first knight out the door.

  “Ulysses, we must talk of what you should say to Tryst, if he lives, and of what you might find down there.”

  The old knight nodded.

  Andor smiled at Ravien for the first time. “I should have guessed something like this from you. You have a unique way of pulling men into action, into extremes.”

  “It is good to see you again, too,” Ravien answered. “You are more right than you know.”

  “Your timing is impressive,” Andor said. He put his hand gently on Lorien’s swollen belly. “In the midst of war and death, you’ll see our child born soon.”

  “From pain may come new life,” Lorien said, tears in her eyes again as she squeezed Ravien’s hand.

  Chapter 25

  BREAKING OUT

  “It is true that the ones who

  come out on top are the ones

  who have been trained

  in the hardest school.”

  This was what I had always craved, to be worshiped. These men, these criminals and exiles, they praised me. They believed I summoned bountiful food from above. They believed I conjured a divine blade as a source of power and order. They believed I would someday lead them out. I was like a god of the underworld.

  None of them seemed to see I was just a man, a fallen and broken man. I accepted their faith for their sakes. The worship I had craved did not give me what I had expected. I now carried the mantle of authority as a duty. The sword Zarathus was heavy in my hand, like a burden. There was no pleasure in their praise because it stopped mattering once I had it. Pleasure would be a good death, a release from this hell.

  Mersault had died a good death. Or maybe it was bad. The Icarian’s death was bad. But at least they had found it. I was still searching.

  It felt like an eternity since I had killed Cain and lost Mersault. I did not track time as Andor had, with crude scars on my arm. Time was meaningless to me. Everything was meaningless to me, except the duty I owed to these men.

  However long it had been, two changes had made the Gloaming a different place. The city had the same abandoned buildings, smooth walls, and constant grayness, but it now it felt more like a funeral than an arena. First, no new men were falling. I had not noticed when they first stopped, but it was probably sometime while I fought the fever from my infected hand. The end of newcomers meant diminishing competition. Men still died, but no longer did dozens arrive and die every day. The second change was that real food had begun to fall. It seemed to come at the same intervals, and while it was still not enough to make us all full, it was far better than the previous rotten scraps. There were whole loaves of bread, dried meat, and even an occasional skin of wine.

  I guessed that Andor had ordered the changes. I had felt mocked, angry at first, but quickly I had grown thankful. I told my followers I had brought the changes, and it seemed the word spread. Maybe those who knew the truth were dead, or maybe they just wanted to believe me. Whatever the cause, within twenty fallings of food under my authority, my followers had grown to over a hundred. After twenty more fallings, all but a few men had sworn faith in me. An occasional holdout, like the Icarian, would try to kill me, but that only meant another holdout would die.

  My kingdom now had three hundred twenty-seven men. I knew most of them by name.

  In the beginning of my reign, I had ordered them to form into groups of twelve, which I called pockets. The pockets stayed close together, and I assigned them each a building to occupy. I divided the city into six segments and appointed a leader for each segment. The segment leaders oversaw the pockets.

  Before each falling, we all gathered in the central square. My men had built me a throne there. It was made of bones held together by rags and mud. From my throne I judged the competitions. The men had come up with many games, and the segments competed against each other. Most of the games involved battle of some form. There were melees, wrestling matches, and races. Fights still broke out, but we quelled them quickly.

  Once the food fell, I divided it evenly among the segments. I delegated to the segment leaders how to divide it from there. I kept complete control over the wine, which I gave to the winners of the competitions. They were given the honor of feasting with me. We even sang together as feasts ended.

  My power was the cornerstone of our system. I offered to face any challenger, any time, for a duel to the death. Seventeen men had tried and died by my hand, while men gathered around and watched. The challenges were much rarer now. Most men would not challenge a god.

  Now, as I sat in the throne awaiting another falling, I almost could have been at peace with this fate. What was life but a grasping for the wind? Down here, where there was no wind, where there were no women, we could not live much better this. My men bonded and they competed. They ate and drank together. We could make our funerals worth having.

  The long pipe stretching above began its now-familiar rumble. The flaps suddenly fell open and snapped shut an instant later. Baskets of food fell to the ground as always. Segment leaders moved to gather them.

  Then, out of the midst of the food, a man stood. I recognized him instantly as Ulysses.

  The grizzled knight had not crossed my mind in ages. Memories arose of him joining Andor, turning against me, helping depose me. Once those memories might have stirred something within me, but now I hardly cared. Those old emotions were gone, worthless.

  Unexpected words came to my lips. “A prophet!” I shouted and stood from my throne. “We have a prophet in our midst,” I announced to the men as I walked to Ulysses.

  He looked like one, with his heavy dark cloak and long gray hair. His stance was defensive, wary. He had probably expected some sort of challenge or fight. He had always been gifted with the sword.

  My men were a picture of decorum and order, despite their ragged clothes and dirty bodies. They formed a circle around Ulysses and lined the space between us. Their bodies were straight and hard, battle-ready. I kept my sword in its hilt as I approached.

  Ulysses moved forward a step, trying to keep his eyes on all the men around him as if they were threats. He held out his hand as I neared his reach.

  I stepped past it and embraced him.

  “Kneel,” I commanded as I released the embrace. He obeyed.

  “Our prophet has come with important news.” I looked around at the men surrounding us. Excitement shone in their faces.

  “Andor sent me,” Ulysses said in a low voice as he stood again.

  “I know, because I desired it.” I lied. I did not want anything from Andor, and I had no idea why he would send Ulysses. “What message do you have for us?”

  He hesitated, glancing around uneasily. “Part of the wall will be blown open soon. You must back away from that area, and you must prepare for battle. Camped outside are—”

  His words went unheard as a murmur rose up among the men. They yelled and cheered. Some of them began to bow at my feet. It seemed only I had heard Ulysses’s words about bat
tle, and only I had heard his anxiety. So we would have a battle.

  I drew my sword and raised it overhead. The men’s rapture sounded out, but it did not touch me. We leave the Gloaming. We stay in the Gloaming. We live, we die. None of it mattered, but I did have a duty to my followers.

  I stepped onto a crate of food and motioned for the men to quiet. The crowd went silent.

  “Our prophet has spoken,” my voice filled the central square. “Segment leaders, distribute this food and organize the pockets. My fine men,” I spoke louder, “bathe yourselves in fountains, smooth your hair, and gather your best arms. This day will be your opportunity for redemption. We will fight side-by-side, we will leave this home and charge out into the unknown. We battle until the good death takes us. For Lord Tryst!”

  I lifted Zarathus into the air and the men shouted back, “For Lord Tryst!”

  The men sprang into action. The segment leaders and pocket captains were issuing commands and leading their men out to prepare.

  I put my arm around Ulysses and walked with him toward my tall building. I had never seen the veteran knight look so stunned. He was speechless as we climbed the stairs to my home on the top floor.

  We sat across from each other on the polished floor, like two pawns on a giant black chessboard.

  I began to ask him questions, and he grew more comfortable, or at least he pretended to.

  He told me about the Sunan invasion, about Sebastian’s plan to blow open the cliff so that we could escape. He told me about my sisters. Lorien expected Andor’s child any day now. Ravien had manipulated the Sunans into this trap.

  I listened to it all with detachment. I understood his words, but they were diffused as if he was speaking to me underwater.

  None of it mattered. I would charge out with my men and we would kill Sunans. I would search for my death, and maybe I’d find Andor along the way.