Darklight

by Greg L. Turnquist

  The words struck a chord. Braknow became committed the moment he gleaned Melicose’s real motives, the day he discovered that this man sought power for himself. The colonel had merely been more cautious when inserting himself into things.

  Was it wrong to play things safe? Being a key military officer, Braknow had convinced himself caution was key. But was it true, or was it a fiction he used to justify . . . cowardice?

  “Well?” His friend’s words jarred him from self-reflection as his rook was captured by a bishop.

  “Let’s do it. Where is he?”

  “I’ll signal him as soon as I do this,” the short man replied. “Checkmate.” His eyes rose up to Braknow’s and stared hard. Then he lifted both arms in the air as if cheering at his victory.

  Braknow glanced down to the ground.

  “Your game is off. It often takes much longer to beat you.”

  The colonel licked his lips.

  “You called?” A tall, thin man had strolled up behind the colonel’s friend.

  “I’d introduce you two, but it’s best if we don’t. The information?” The short man held out his hand.

  Colonel Braknow reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the sealed note. “You must relay this to our key point of contact in the north. It’s double sealed. Inside are the details on how to make contact. Don’t open it until you are beyond the borders. If you are searched on the way, tell them you’re a private courier. At worst, they’ll just send it back here for verification based on the seal. Don’t get caught with anything unsealed. Got it?”

  “I do. Anything else?”

  “You’re raring to go, aren’t you?” The man’s rough, almost disrespectful tone of voice was irritating.

  “Let’s just say, I’m not a big fan of Melicose’s troops. I don’t much care for hanging out with one either. Let’s get to it.”

  There was no value in attempting to ingratiate himself. He waved him on, and the man he hadn’t seen two minutes ago was gone.

  “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

  “Yes he is. And that’s why you picked him.” The colonel pointed at the board.

  His short friend reset the pieces so they could play another game.

  These traitors had to be stopped. If Melicose hadn't uncovered the plot to feed critical battle intelligence to the enemy, the battle at Nartosis might have had a different outcome. And the prospect that someone from within known as The Raven was sharing critical information with the Undergrounders burned.

  Staring at the response to his message sent by private courier, the decision to return was clear. His most trusted advisor back in Kelmar, one who had taken on the faux title of vice commander, didn’t have the right military expertise to follow up on Captain Tor’s progress.

  Returning on foot would have taken several days if not a week. Given their vaunted success with conquering this city, it was a justifiable risk to pull the Third Cavalry.

  As the unit got in formation, Melicose entered the stables. He handed the stable hand his pack and climbed into the saddle. His horse groomed and ready, and his pack latched on, he took off.

  After a few feet of trotting, he sped his horse up to canter to the head of the line. As he approached, he slowed. The entire unit responded to his arrival with shouts and cheering.

  Melicose waved as he moved along the ranks. At the front was the unit commander.

  “Everything ready, captain?”

  “Yes, sir. The men are ready, all sixty.”

  “Move out,” he ordered, followed by commanding his steed to walk. After a couple minutes, he stirred his horse into a trot. They merged onto the main road leading to Kelmar.

  The cavalry unit captain lined himself up with Melicose as their horses trotted.

  “Sir, any details about that mission you would be willing to share?”

  Melicose had heard this question before. It was a combination of tactical skill and ambition. The captain liked being up-to-speed to provide his best support while also being in tune for a potential promotion.

  Melicose glared at him and then behind. Being several horse lengths ahead of their troops, and by now a good ten minutes outside their encampment, he opened his mouth. “I had my chief advisor send orders to Captain Tor through a private courier. They were dispatched to invade the tunnels and flush out the Undergrounders.”

  “What?” The captain’s eyes shot wide open. “Sorry, sir. It's just, well, that sounds dangerous. Did you learn something new?”

  “Indeed. Do you remember the spy we captured two weeks ago?”

  The captain nodded.

  “Well, you didn't get to read the detailed report. The man had information supplied by the Undergrounders.”

  “The Undergrounders? I thought they were just a handful of rabble-rousers out marauding some of the poor. You’re saying they are engaged in resistance?”

  “They are. I was surprised by this discovery. That information was kept secret because we didn't know how everyone would react.” Melicose clenched his teeth.

  The captain’s face bent.

  Melicose continued, “There is much mystery and superstition floating around about the Undergrounders. At first, I didn't see the benefit of committing soldiers to chasing some rogue group that was impossible to identify.”

  “Something changed, sir?”

  “Yes. The report was sent back to headquarters by private courier to avoid compromise. I received a follow up message yesterday.”

  The unit captain stared at him with twitching eyebrows.

  “Using the information in the report, they surveyed Undergrounders entering four distinct hatches in the city. I sent a final word to have Captain Tor put together a contingent and invade.” Melicose grinned.

  “Sir, your combat leadership has been inspirational, but such decisive actions based on this gleaned intelligence is incredible.”

  Melicose fixed his eyes on the road ahead with a thin smile and didn't say another word.

  After many hours of trotting, walking, and cantering, Melicose's men covered much ground before they stopped to rest for a few hours after nightfall. His men were master horsemen and their steeds were stout.

  After four hours of sleep, which was plenty for the mounted beasts, the men arose and ensured their horses fetched a good nibble of grass. Everyone saddled up and moved out before dawn.

  As the sun popped up above the horizon, they continued their cycle of trotting for an hour, switching to walking, and then a good canter. This gave the horses, as well as their horsemen, a nice change. It prevented them from getting tired and sloppy in their riding habits.

  The sun rose to noon, and they approached the high ridge that signaled they were close to the city. They topped the ridge and stared at their calm, lazy city resting in the valley. The northern edge had little vegetation, so it afforded them a clear view home.

  As they approached, Melicose spotted flashes of sunlight just outside the city on the road. “I believe someone is coming to greet us.”

  “I see him as well, sir.”

  “They no doubt spotted us on the ridge. I just hope it's positive news and not a standard greeting.”

  After about ten minutes, the flash of light grew into a single man riding a horse. He approached and waved in the traditional manner.

  Melicose waved him forward. “Do you have a report for me, soldier?”

  “I'm afraid not, sir. Your advisor told the tower scouts to send someone out should you be spotted. At the moment I was dispatched, no message was given to me.”

  “Then ride back at full speed and inform him that as soon as we arrive, our men will assemble into eight light squads. Be prepared to take our mounts, replenish the men, and have arms and light supplies ready,” Melicose ordered.

  The greeter repeated the order, turned, and took off.

  “Eight squads? Begging your pardon, sir, but do we need that many?”

  “Captain, if they don't return, or at least send word by the end of the d
ay, then we just might need all of them. I don't want to be held up.”

  Melicose sped his horse to canter the rest of the way, signaling the same for the whole unit.

  Chapter Twelve

  A New Discovery

  Gavin led Terrell for about four hours through a myriad of twists and turns. It seemed like a long time, but it took a few wrong turns to figure out where they were. Snitch would have cut the time in half.

  The memory of what happened sunk in his stomach. Glantham's message gave little reassurance. Was she all right, or was Glantham just trying to make him feel better? Whatever he meant about Snitch helping didn't sound like hiding the truth.

  Gavin shook his head and focused on their location. Terrell had gotten good at keeping up.

  Click. Tap. Tap. Creak.

  Hairs raised on the back of Gavin’s neck, so he gave the silent signal to stop, crouch, and switch on their darklights.

  Terrell responded without talking.

  Were they soldiers, teammates, or what? He wasn't sure. The tunnels had a knack for making disturbing sounds, and knowing there were now enemy soldiers in them heightened his fear.

  After a couple minutes of nothing, they resumed moving along the familiar tunnel. Of course he had been “right” twice before. The first mistake cost forty-five minutes of trekking along a tunnel that missed an expected right turn at the end. The second time, not so bad.

  The tunnel curved to the right with many junctions, except it had one too many. Each time, Gavin sighed and gave the hand signal to double back.

  If he was right, they were a ladder away from the others. It was annoying to navigate the tunnels from a relative perspective. He doubted anyone other than Snitch knew the area from an absolute perspective. Though, perhaps Glantham did.

  He gave the silent cue to Terrell to follow him down the ladder. After descending, Gavin closed the hatch. Then he tapped the walls.

  Tap-tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap came a response.

  He lit his pocket bulb, and its tendrils stretched out. Up ahead, they stopped at a barrier of darkness. Waving at Terrell, they proceeded through the silent black wall into the presence of his teammates.

  Several rushed to greet them, and the commotion woke the others who were sleeping. Clarel formed a warm smile as she reached over to stir someone else. He recognized the big round glasses on Rodrina's face as she sat up.

  “I see you found us,” Clarel remarked. “And who might this be?”

  “Terrell, the one who tipped off Snitch.”

  “Well, if it wasn't for him, none of us would be here. Well, none of us.” Clarel bent her lip.

  “I heard Base was attacked. You're the only ones that got out?”

  “Yes,” came Rodrina's screechy voice.

  “You may not believe it, but I'm glad to see you,” Gavin said with a smile on his face.

  Rodrina broke out into a big grin.

  They laughed.

  “Where is Snitch?” Clarel asked.

  Gavin's face darkened. “Not here,” he said with a soft voice.

  “What do you mean? Where is she?” Clarel’s voice rose as she looked back and forth.

  “We ran into Glantham in the tunnels and stumbled into a patrol after crossing Rat's Nest.”

  Gavin paused. All this time he had focused on navigating here, not what to say regarding his lost teammates. What should he say?

  “I engaged them hoping the rest could get away. We ran, trying to lose that patrol in the tunnels. But—” He paused, digging for an answer they would believe.

  “They got swept up—” Terrell said.

  “—into a hatch we didn't spot.” Gavin finished. “Glantham tripped, and Snitch was too close and accidentally fell in with him. There was no ladder. I couldn't see how far it went, even with my pocket bulb. I thought they were dead, but Glantham somehow sent me a message.” Gavin prayed he didn’t sounding delirious.

  Clarel and Rodrina stood with their mouths wide open.

  “A message?” Clarel asked.

  “While resting a few levels up, a vision of Glantham woke me. He said they were safe but had to find their own way out. Said Snitch might help him make it.” Maybe Glantham's actual words would make his altered story sound more true.

  Clarel and Rodrina looked over at Terrell.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “He says he heard a voice in his head, so I don't know. But that Glantham guy sure seemed spooky.”

  Clarel and Rodrina looked at each other and smiled.

  Gavin proceeded to summon everyone. There was a lot at stake. “We can't stay here. While we may be safe for now, this isn't the place to plan our next move. There is another location that will serve us much better.”

  Gavin's soldiers looked at each other with confused faces. It was understandable, given they had only trained to reach this spot.

  “Pack up as fast as possible. Take whatever food and water you can carry.” As the civilians dispersed, he motioned for his men to gather closer. “I haven't told you this, but Snitch and I did some extra scouting. The next location isn’t too far away. I'll take point. Terrell with me.”

  While everyone assembled their packs, Terrell pulled Gavin aside.

  “Why did you lie about Snitch?” he whispered.

  “Glantham has insisted many times that I not share what I know with anyone else. I think he crossed a line, and my gut says to keep it to ourselves. I need your help to keep it that way.”

  Terrell stared back, biting his lip. “Okay.”

  Clarel found herself nestled in the middle as everyone stood, packs loaded. She tugged at her straps, trying to shake off the soreness in her legs.

  Gavin looked back, his eyes scanning until they stopped on one man. “Sergeant, fine job getting everyone here. Well, everyone that you could. Pick up the rear.”

  That man probably saved her life, the thought piercing her heart. Then her mind replayed the sounds of the attack, and the warm thought was replaced with a single tear.

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant said. He shuffled himself to the back.

  Clarel looked over at Rodrina.

  Rodrina touched her shoulder and offered a smile.

  “Extinguish pocket bulbs and get the darklights from both ends,” ordered Gavin.

  Things went dark, followed by those familiar clicks from the two darklights. Padded feet filled her ears, and she started walking. Traveling in pitch black, buried deep in tunnels was dreadful. The comfort of those feeble lights was gone. Clarel had relished those few hours, but no more. Was this necessary so deep in the tunnels? Not being a military tactician, she chased such doubts from her mind.

  Bits of light were a privilege and not the standard accoutrement she was used to. It took another thirty minutes of trudging, making turns, and descending more levels to shake off her angst.

  In that time, her mind shifted into tunnel ops. Remembering her past nervousness, she again tapped those around her to spread a sense of companionship, and a sense of renewal radiated back to her.

  After another hour, Clarel tabulated having gone down five more levels. Her thoughts drifted to the questions she couldn’t shake. Who built this? And why? This run had started at the sixth level. At least that was her guess. They had now doubled that. How deep did these tunnels go?

  Giving up on these unanswerable questions, Clarel looked over at Rodrina.

  Rodrina brushed her shoulder, straightened the glasses on her face, and continued moving with a familiar gate.

  Despite Clarel’s eyes being starved of sensory input, tiny vibrations painted a picture that made her stare in surprise. She turned her head to the right, and her ears focused in that direction. Rodrina licked her lips and scratched her nose. These minuscule sounds entered Clarel's brain and gave her a crystal-clear picture.

  She looked to the left and noticed two other Undergrounders. One tugged at a strap, while the other put his hands in his pockets. Her mind drew an image as the glimmer of a fingernail scratch
ed webbing and a hand brushed against fabric. The doldrum task of hiking in pitch black evaporated, and she looked ahead and behind, discerning details about their entire troop.

  Clarel had guessed the soldiers and Snitch traveled by dead reckoning. Not true.

  Someone at the front scratched their head, and the ricochet of that vibration was wrong.

  That fragment of sound painted a tunnel ahead, branching left and right.

  Clarel exerted every effort to avoid shrieking. These bits and pieces of sound cast a picture of Gavin as he veered right. As she passed the junction, Clarel reached, her fingers gracing empty space. Fighting the desire to leap up and yell with excitement, she lowered her hand.

  Then she noticed herself, louder than anyone. Her feet scraped the floors, her clothes swished, and her breathing was coarse.

  She tried several tricks. Picking her feet up a tad higher made the stomping vanish. After several minutes of tunnel stepping, Clarel focused on her breathing. Deep, calm breaths instead of panting. She stretched her arms and stopped swinging her shoulders. It was much quieter. Not perfect, but better.

  After another half-hour, they approached a dead end. This time, Clarel came to a halt on cue. Darklights double clicked, and a bit of light appeared at the front from Gavin's pocket bulb, piercing her eyes as her ears shifted out of tunnel mode.

  Gavin stood in front of a hatch. It had the same style lock as the surface ones.

  She hadn't seen a locked hatch anywhere else, granted she didn't conduct many tunnel missions.

  Gavin entered a code.

  Had Snitch figured this out and told him, or was this more of Glantham's mysterious knowledge?

  Completing the combination, Gavin swung the door open and stepped in, dagger drawn. His head poked back out, and he waved everyone to follow. After they all entered, Gavin closed the hatch and spun the lock.

  Clarel looked around. This was a room, not a tunnel, with no other doors.

  From the way Gavin’s eyes moved around, it was obvious he had never been here. Suddenly, a bright light flooded the room.