The Dark Path

by James M. Bowers

  They found a table and when they had set all their belongings down, they went to see what was cooking. Gen stayed behind and took his spell book out of his pack. He turned past the first page and slowly went through the spells he had enclosed. The book was half full, but he wasn't satisfied. "I should copy down some more spells from the library."

  Picking up his book, he walked over and took a biscuit from the pile in the center of the table. Absently munching on it, he walked to the library while the others ate breakfast.

  The library was empty this early except for the librarian. Every time Gen had visited the library, the librarian had been there. Even the times he sneaked out of bed late at night, he had found the elder elf sitting behind his desk or attending to the shelves. The elf had never complained about him being there after hours, merely asked Gen if he needed any assistance. It seemed there was always an odd aura around the elder elf. The faint hint of almonds mixed with the sickeningly sweet smell of death surrounded him. Most of the students shied away from him, but Gen rather liked him, as if they somehow had been through similar experiences.

  Gen walked quickly through the aisles until he came to the last row of books. This aisle, though lit just like the others, somehow seemed dark and cold. He could feel the power coming from the books on this shelf. He had walked past here many times, even stopped with the intent to go in. This time he would go in. He would take down one of those black bound books that made his skin crawl. He would take it to the center table and copy down a spell or two.

  Clenching his teeth together so tightly they made a terrible gritting sound, he walked quickly down the aisle. He stopped in the middle and forced himself to read the titles on the spines. Most of the titles were illegible. They were protected so that none could read them save those that were of proper learning to do so, as the spells they contained were very dangerous.

  He scanned the spines looking for one he could read. He looked at every book from the top to the bottom. All the titles spun and swirled in his mind. He was about to give up hope when he saw a book at the very bottom of the shelf. It seemed almost as if it hid in the dark bottom corner. He looked closer and saw that it had no title. A deep blue stripe ran down the center of its spine and it seemed almost to glow when Gen touched it.

  Gen's arms were covered in goose flesh and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, but he forced himself to grasp the book and pull it from the shelf. He carried it quickly out of the aisle and set it down on the center table. Lighting a lamp with a nearby tinderbox, he pulled up a chair and sat staring at this odd book. Its cover was flat black. Light seemed to be sucked into it. The more Gen stared at it, the more he felt as if he too were being sucked into it. Quickly looking away, he shook his head.

  "It's just a book, Gen! Pull yourself together." He mumbled to himself. Boldly grasping the cover, he opened to the first page. He found it blank. Shrugging, he turned to the next page. It too was blank. Getting frustrated, he picked up the book and flipped through the pages. They were all blank. Anger flushed through Gen and he slammed the cover shut on the book. The resounding boom echoed through the library and Gen cringed. The librarian was at his side a second later, appearing as if he materialized upon the spot. His face was angry till he looked down at the book Gen had before him. Then his eyes glimmered a bit and his frown turned into a knowing smirk. "I suppose you found it empty?" the librarian stated absently.

  "There is nothing in it!"

  "Oh really?" the librarian mumbled. He opened the cover of the book and the first page was filled with magic script. "So to you, this is nothing?" Gen reached for the book but the elf closed the cover before he could touch it. "This book is different from the rest." Gen finally grabbed the book and threw open the cover. Again the pages were blank.

  "I don't understand. Is there a command word? A movement or prayer one must make first?" Gen looked up at the elf, waiting.

  "No, nothing of that sort. This book does not give its information freely. You must give it something in return before it will give you anything. It's alive in its own odd way."

  "What does it want from me?"

  "What will you give it?"

  "Whatever it wants."

  "Oh?" The elf stood back a bit and stared off in thought. After a while he nodded once and looked back to Gen. "It may ask much or very little. Just remember this. In the end, It is your choice what to give it. Remember that. Your choice."

  "I don't have time for this now. I must leave on a mission for the Headmaster." Gen sighed and pushed the book toward the center of the table but his hand did not linger far from it.

  "Take it with you."

  "Come again? I thought you just told me to take it with me."

  "I did. Take it. Use it well. I have no more use for it. I know its...information."

  "Thank you! I don't know what to say. What can I give you for it?" Gen asked as he placed the book atop his spell book.

  "I ask for a favor. I will ask it when and where I need it, and if you happen to find a person wearing black robes that shares your name. Give it to him. I believe it belongs to him. Now go. Your friends wait for your return."

  "It's a deal. I will do you the favor you ask, when you ask it, if it be within my ability to do such at that time." Gen got up and walked quickly to the door.

  "By the way, young Gen. The color suits you. Just remember you wear the robes. They don't wear you," the librarian said as Gen reached the door. When Gen turned around the elf was gone.

  X

  The Village

  The village was bursting with life and activity. It was midday, and those that weren't hiding from the heat were in the market.

  "I had forgotten how busy the markets can be. This brings back some very old memories," Gen said to Meeka.

  "Incredible," muttered a wide-eyed Meeka. "I've seen paintings, but now that I'm here, I..." she trailed off, taking in the foreign atmosphere. Gen rubbed her arm reassuringly, knowing she would adapt soon enough.

  "Where’s the Tavern?" Aaron asked looking around. All he wanted was some shade and a drink to clear his head.

  "Hold on a minute," Gen commanded in a friendly tone as he grabbed Aaron's shoulder and pulled him back to the group. "Business before pleasure. Eh? We need to do some things before we can have a little fun. Thomas?"

  "Yes?"

  "You and Aaron are in charge of finding some good horses at a reasonable price. Meeka and I will handle the rest. Meet us back here when you’re done."

  "Come on, Thomas. Let's get this over with so we can have a drink," Aaron said as he started walking toward the stables.

  "See you later. Stay out of trouble," Thomas shouted back at them.

  "Shall we?" Gen asked extending his hand which Meeka took into her own.

  "We shall," she replied, losing her initial bewilderment to the comfort of his companionship. With that, they proceeded into the market.

  "Four pieces of silver for a hatchet! That's robbery. I've seen better made for less than half of that." Gen was having fun. He didn't know how much he'd missed haggling over prices until he had actually done it again. "I'll give you one silver for it."

  "Three."

  "One! It's not even sharpened!"

  "Three." The full bellied merchant crossed his arms.

  "Two."

  "Agreed."

  Well that wasn't too bad. The price was a little high, but a hatchet could be quite useful in the woods.

  "That was amazing. How did you learn to do that?" Meeka asked Gen as they walked further down the street. "You knew just what to say, and he never had a chance!"

  "I learned how when I was little, before I came to the Schola." Gen hadn't yet gotten annoyed with Meeka's fascination with seemingly everything she saw. He also liked the fact that he could impress her with the simplest things.

  "I think the sun is getting to me," Meeka confessed after a time, "Can we find somewhere to sit and get something cool to drink?"

  "This place seems as good a
s any," Gen stated after looking around the plaza and seeing no better place in sight. "The Broken Mug, interesting name," Gen commented as they walked under the faded sign. The old wood had been poorly painted. It pictured an ale mug with a large crack in it. Ale spilled out the crack and pooled around the mug. Gen shook his head and held the door open for Meeka.

  They walked in and sat at a table. For a moment the room was silent as everyone looked to see who the newcomers were. Gen wasn't really worried about Meeka's safety. The robe she wore alone would fend off any thieves, but Gen looked around anyway. The two of them found a table close to the door and after a while, a serving girl approached to take their order. What she wore hardly covered her body. A shirt that was perhaps two sizes too small was laced together over an abundance of cleavage. What cover she had on her bottom half didn't hide much and nothing at all when she bent over. Embarrassed about staring, he stole a quick glance at Meeka and was glad to note that she hadn't seen him gaping at the serving girl.

  "What can I get for you two Wearers of the Robe?"

  "Two glasses of red wine, please," Gen answered. The waitress went into the back and returned with two overflowing glasses. Setting them down at their table, she then went to serve another customer.

  "Ack! These are warm," Meeka said with disgust after tasting her wine.

  "Here, let me fix it," Gen said and, incanting softly under his breath, wrapped his hands around the glass. After a few seconds, there was a thin layer of frost around the rim of the glass. "Now try it."

  "Much better," Meeka replied as a pleasant shiver ran through her body from the cold drink.

  They finished their drinks, left some coppers on the table, then returned to the heat of the day.

  "I wonder how Aaron and Thomas are doing."

  "They're probably just fine," said Meeka with a giggle. "Don't worry about them. I want you to show me what else there is in this town while there is still daylight left.”

  "A round on me!" shouted Aaron from the bar.

  "Are you sure this is a wise thing to do, Aaron?" Thomas whispered in caution.

  "Don't worry. I've got enough money," Aaron replied.

  "But we don't have time for this. We've got to get some horses," Thomas persuaded his far from sober classmate.

  "Nonsense, Thomas, it's barely even noon."

  Thomas took a look outside at the setting sun and sighed. It looked like he had screwed up again. I should never have let him in here, thought Thomas as he put a few coins on the table and started to haul Aaron out of the bar.

  As they left through the door, they were about ran over by a man coming in.

  "Hey! Watch where you’re going. You about trampled me," Aaron yelled at the incoming person.

  The man stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to address the insulting drunkard.

  At that moment, Thomas recognized the man to whom Aaron had addressed so rudely.

  "By the Gods! It's the Green Knight," Thomas was, at first, stunned at this unusual sight. He was soon brought out of it from concern for Aaron's life. He certainly didn't like Aaron all that much but he had heard many stories of those that got in the way of the man in green armor.

  "Milord, please forgive my friend's outburst. He is a little drunk and knows not what he does," Thomas said, addressing the knight as he gave him a low bow.

  "Take the fool home. I should lop off his head for his insolence. You are lucky that I'm in a good mood," The Green Knight stated then turned around and walked back into the bar.

  "You damned fool. You almost got yourself killed! You were lucky I was there to save your unworthy ass. Now come, let's go get some horses before you spend all our money in a bar."

  XI

  Duncan

  “It was hot. No, it was sweltering. No, it was more like the abyssal fires of hell,” Duncan laughed. “I guess it doesn’t help to argue with myself about the heat. It won't change anything.”

  Duncan panted as he drew water from the deep well.

  "Hurry up with that water, or you’ll have no supper,” Duncan’s mother leaned out the door. “You’re not finished yet!”

  Duncan smiled. He knew she was only joking about the absence of supper, but he didn’t want to take the small chance that she wasn’t.

  “I’ll be there in a minute, Ma,” Duncan shouted back as he put the worn, wooden bar across his shoulders and walked easily back home, this time without spilling a drop from either of the buckets that he carried. Duncan emptied one of the bucket’s contents into the horse trough and carried the other inside. The table was filled with bowls of steaming food that made his mouth water.

  “Dump half of that in the pitcher then go clean up for supper,” She watched him leave and wondered, not for the first time, whose child he was. Duncan had been found on their doorstep when he was just an infant. She and her husband had raised him the best they could on what money the meager amount of land that they owned produced. She had never told him that he was an orphan, though she had been tempted many times. She also wondered why he hadn’t suspected anything about it. He definitely didn’t resemble his foster father. Though a farmer, her husband had never been a big man. Duncan was a full head taller than her husband and was built like a bear. She suddenly banished those thoughts from her mind. What did it matter where he came from? The gods had given her this boy to raise instead of one of her own. It was a blessing.

  A grinning, half clean face, topped with messy, short blond hair, appeared in the doorway followed by the rest of his body. “How’s this?” Duncan asked.

  “Still dirty. Go back and do it right,” she told him, and almost laughed at the fake dejected look her son wore.

  “I’m home!” Paul walked in his house and smelled the air. “Something smells good. I hope it’s for me.”

  “You know it is. It always is,” Gwen said to her husband as she embraced him. “Go wash up with your son, and make sure he’s doing a good job of it this time.”

  After a while, two clean faces came in the kitchen and sat down to eat.

  “How was your day, Dear?” Gwen asked her husband as she passed the mashed potatoes.

  “It was hot for one thing, and then one of the horses threw a shoe. We had to plow by hand and then...”

  A loud thud stopped Paul mid-sentence.

  “What?” That was all Paul had time to say before he noticed Duncan lying unconscious on the floor.

  “Gwen! Hurry get the salts and a wet rag,” Paul yelled at Gwen as he got up and started around the table. “Damn these spells.”

  “O Gods! What’s happening? He, He’s shaking all over! Help me, Gwen!”

  The convulsions were strong. Paul could barely hold him still.

  “Put a rag in his mouth before he bites his tongue off!”

  Gwen shoved a rag in his mouth and barely got her hand away before he would have bitten it.

  “He’s getting worse. Quick! Get the amulet,” Paul said to Gwen as he struggled to keep his son from hurting himself. Gwen rushed off to the bedroom and returned quickly.

  “Here, take it.”

  “I can’t. I can barely hold him back as it is. Just tie it around his neck.”

  Gwen did as told then stepped back in shock.

  “Paul, the amulet. Look at it. I’ve never seen it act this way before.”

  The amulet, usually a deep blue color, turned bright red. Great pulses of white energy flowed from Duncan's prone body into it. With each pulse it grew brighter and brighter until the flow stopped. The amulet was glowing an evil red so bright it almost hurt to look at it. Paul had an odd feeling as if it was somehow looking back at him.

  “Look! Duncan’s stopped shaking, “Gwen said to her husband as he slowly released the boy.

  “I know. What are we going to do now?” Paul asked his equally puzzled wife.

  The amulet had changed yet again. It was black, but not for long. Paul bent over, picked it up, and laid it on the stone floor then he brought his heel down hard against it.
There was a cracking noise followed by the sound of grinding glass. Then suddenly it exploded, knocking Paul off his feet and against the wall. A deafening scream burst forth seeming to go on and on before it finally faded away. There was a smoldering black patch where the amulet had been. The merchant had been thorough in his directions. Paul didn’t know why he had to do it, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. The merchant had said nothing of an explosion or a shrieking that left his ears ringing.

  “Take that rag out of his mouth and try to wake him up,” Paul said to his wife as he sat again at the supper table and began eating. This matter wasn’t going to change from his going hungry.

  “Paul, I think he’s too worn out to wake up. Why don’t you take him to bed?” Gwen said after receiving nothing but moans from Duncan.

  Paul didn’t say anything. He just got up and carried Duncan to bed. There would be time enough to talk about this tomorrow when Duncan could hear what had happened.

  “Good night, my son,” Paul said as he put his son to bed, his hard eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  XII

  New Friends

  "Son, wake up and get dressed. We're going to town," Paul yelled to his drowsy son from the kitchen.

  "Right away Pa!" Duncan sat up, fully awake, a trip to town was rare and was not to be missed. Dressing quickly, he ran outside and started helping his dad load the wagon.

  "Go see if your Ma has some breakfast for us," Paul told his son after Duncan had loaded the last of the supplies.

  "Hey Ma! You got us some food?" Duncan yelled as he entered the house.

  "Stop your shouting or you won't get nothing," Gwen said jokingly to her son. "Here take this. You can eat on the way." She handed her son a lunch basket.

  "Thanks Ma," Duncan said as he hugged his mother.

  "Wait, I have something else for you," Gwen said stopping her son. "I've been saving this for you. It's not much, but it's something." She walked back into her room and returned with something in her hand. She placed the item gently in Duncan's large calloused hand.