The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  "Well, I'm a fast learner, and you don't have much magic, either,” she shot back at him. “You said so yourself."

  He took a breath, praying silently for the gods to give him patience. "No, I don't, that is true. But I am of the land, I know it and I know how to survive it,” he said with growing irritation. “I simply don't have time to waste, and you could only slow us down." It was a hard thing to say, but it was true, so he told himself he could not regret it.

  She opened her mouth, and he braced himself for another tongue-lashing, but the fire died from her eyes and her shoulders sagged. "Fine, then. Go,” she said, sounding defeated as she turned away from him. “And you can forget your debt. You don't owe me anything."

  Bram watched as she left the room and felt guilt stir in his chest at the thought of leaving her here all alone. In truth, he didn’t want to at all. The idea of never seeing her again had been a grain of doubt in his mind, but it seemed to be growing at a terrifying rate. Regret ate away at him. He followed her into the kitchen and took a moment to look around. He hadn't seen it since the night he'd arrived, and then he’d been in too much pain to notice the terrible state of the building. The ceiling was badly stained where the roof had leaked and there was barely a stick of furniture in the place. Ameena had carried on walking into the next room and he followed after her, to find her leaning against the wall, staring out of the window.

  It was a small room, and had obviously once been hers. The walls showed him tatty posters of horses and kittens, and the wallpaper with the pretty little fairies that had once filled her childish imagination. She looked all at once very young and very alone, and no matter how he told himself that it would be best for her, safest for her, to remain here ...

  He knew he couldn't do it. He didn’t want to.

  ***

  Laen glanced over at Corin riding beside him. He had been withdrawn ever since they'd left, despite Laen's attempts to draw him into conversation. Laen didn’t think it was entirely his fault, though. The closer they got to Aos Si, the more his own skin began to burn and prickle with the sense of wrongness. He knew the men felt it, too. All of them were tense and strangely quiet. Not that they said anything, they were too professional for that. Yet everyone was on alert, their eyes scanning the countryside with growing horror. Everything about this place was screaming for help, and even though he could not hear the voices as Corin did, he could sense them. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to Océane, and he could only wonder at exactly what Corin was going through. He could see he was deathly pale, his shoulders hunched. He looked exhausted and unwell, hollow eyed and desperate.

  Laen felt a stab of guilt at how he had spoken to him that morning. Perhaps he had been too hard on him, but when he had found him there with that knife ... He’d been terrified that Corin was too close to the edge, closer than he had known. That, more than anything, was what frightened him, that he hadn’t known just how bad things were. He felt sick to his stomach just remembering. He had always believed they had hidden nothing from each other; he certainly hadn’t. Corin knew everything there was to know about him, every single dark secret he had shared, but clearly it hadn’t worked both ways. How much more was there that Corin had kept hidden? How much more was being kept from him?

  Laen glanced over at his oldest friend once more, knowing it was sheer determination keeping him upright. He wondered how just how much more Corin could take before he broke.

  He looked up as two reconnaissance riders came into sight and watched as they got closer to see their faces ashen.

  “What is it?” he demanded, a cold feeling growing in his chest at the look in their eyes.

  “Up ahead, Your Highness, a village ...” The two men exchanged a look before the one who had spoken carried on. “It’s far worse than we feared. The people are sick, starving.”

  Before Laen had a chance to give any commands, he heard Corin curse with fury beside him and he took off towards the village.

  “Corin!” Laen swore, too, and followed in his wake, shouting orders for his men to follow them.

  By the time they arrived in the village, Corin had already dismounted, his face a mask of horror. Men and women stood, watching them in silence, their limbs as thin as sticks, eyes too big in their heads. There was an air of defeat, of silent despair that clung to the place, to its people.

  A little girl, no more than five, walked over to Corin, her little face curious as she touched a finger to the fine material of his jacket with awe. Corin got to his knees in the dirt, and held out his hand to her. She took it, without hesitation, and Laen watched as Corin drew her closer and put his other hand to her face before pulling her into an embrace. He looked up at Laen with tears streaming down his face.

  “I will kill him, Laen,” he swore, the words hard and heartbroken all at once. “I will kill everyone who had a hand in this.”

  Laen nodded, his own throat too tight to speak.

  Corin looked back at the child. “You are not afraid of me?” The little girl shook her head, big eyes solemn. “Where is your mother?” She pointed to what looked like a bundle of rags sitting at the side of the road, only the fire in her eyes watching Corin with anxiety giving away that this was the girl’s mother. Corin got up and carried the little girl over to the woman, putting her carefully back in her arms with a smile. He got to his knees before her and bowed his head. “I will make this right, you have my word.”

  The woman’s lips moved and Corin leaned closer to catch her words. “King?” she whispered.

  Laen swallowed hard as Corin nodded, seeing the pain in his eyes. “Yes, I will be your king,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I promise, I will try to be worthy of you.” He looked up at the crowd that had gathered around him now before looking back at Laen. “Of all of you.”

  Two little boys jostled their way forward, each one pushing the other closer. “Gentlemen,” Corin said, smiling at them. “Would you show me the Heart of the village please?” The two boys grinned and each one placed a grubby hand in Corin’s and led him through the streets. Laen walked beside him and the two men exchanged glances. They did not need to speak to know what was in the other’s mind. What, in the name of the gods, had Auberren done to cause this?

  Laen watched as Corin walked to the centre of the village where the Heart tree grew. Every village, town, or city in the Fae Lands had one, no matter how grand or how lowly. The tree was planted at the time the land was first settled and reflected the health and status of the people and the place. Laen knew he should stop him, they didn’t have the time for this and Corin could not spare the energy, but he wouldn’t. Corin wouldn’t listen, for starters, and in truth, Laen knew he wouldn’t have followed Corin this far if he’d been the kind of man who could turn his back on something like this, even temporarily. So he went with as much curiosity as the starving villagers, to see what their future king could do for them.

  ***

  As expected, the tree was barely alive, with bare, skeletal branches twisting out of the crown. Corin felt his own heart break at the sight and cursed himself anew for having waited so long. He should have brought this war to Auberren’s door long since, if only he’d known how bad things were. If only he’d not been such a coward.

  A growing crowd of shabby, starving people began to appear around the Heart, and Corin thanked the two little boys. With growing interest and the faintest glimmer of hope beginning to kindle in their eyes, the crowd watched as Corin walked over to the tree. He spoke the formal words of greeting, may the Heart ever prosper, and laid his hands upon it. Pain lanced through him and he fell to his knees as his fingers touched the bark, his legs bucking as the agony of the dying village swept over him with the force of an angry storm. Laen and his men were beside him in an instant, but Corin shook his head, waving them back. He gathered his courage, knowing now what he faced and replaced his hands, holding his breath as pain seared through his body.

  Corin breathed, slow and deep, focusing on t
hat to endure the pain as he found his connection to the land and then cried out as the power rushed through him. He heard screams behind him, shouts of fear and anxiety as light blazed around him, so bright it blinded him as life rushed back into the tree. The branches crackled as energy burst through the dried out limbs, bursting into leaf at an incredible rate. He felt the power spread out from the roots, down, down into the earth and outwards, searching out every corner of the village, chasing away death and sickness until his hands fell from the trunk and he sat down beneath the tree, breathing hard, dazed with the rush and glitter of magic burning through his veins.

  Corin held his head in his hands, his mind buzzing still from the scalding heat of power. He was dimly aware of crying and looked up to see people hugging each other and weeping. Laen crouched beside him, dark eyes full of concern. “Are you alright?”

  He let out a breath and nodded, realising it was true, in fact, he felt much better. Instead of the constant screams, the land seemed now to chatter and whisper in his mind … he’s here, he’s here, he’s come ...

  Corin held his hand out to the little girl who had first approached him. She was devouring an ebony apple taken from one of the many trees that had burst to life throughout the village, the red juice dripping down her chin in a sticky stream. He looked around to see Laen’s men had climbed an apple tree that was now laden with fruit and were throwing them down to the crowd. He drew the little girl to him and held her hands, sending his healing powers into her and watched with satisfaction as the bloom returned to her cheeks and blue eyes widened and became bright with life once more. Her mother cried out and ran to her daughter, looking at her in astonishment and joy before falling at Corin’s feet and taking his hand, covering it in kisses.

  He shook his head and kissed her hand in return, feeling the weight of guilt in his heart for everything they had suffered. “I do not deserve your thanks, lady,” he said, meaning it. “I beg that you may forgive me for having taken so long to come.” In turn, he sent his healing into the woman and watched, his heart easing just a little as her skin shone with vitality, though she was still far too thin. The crowd jostled around him, everyone desperate to get closer to him, and with each man, woman and child he restored to health he felt his own mind become calmer.

  By the time he had done, Anaïs and her grandfather were there and the army was distributing food and care. Laen sat beside him, under the Heart tree.

  “You have done a wonderful thing here today,” he said with a wide smile but Corin shook his head, frowning.

  “The land is bleeding from a thousand wounds,” he said, knowing how much more needed to be done, what a vast undertaking it truly was. “I have merely covered one with a small plaster. Unless Auberren is defeated and I take claim, this will be undone in a matter of days.”

  Laen got to his feet and held out his hand, pulling Corin to his feet. “Then we had best go and make sure the job is done once and for all, and the rightful king can finally rule this land as he ought.”

  Chapter 12

  Bram knew he was going to regret it before the words had even left his mouth, but he was going to do it anyway.

  "You'll have to do exactly as I say!" he said, feeling a bit aggrieved and no little anxiety as to what Corin would say when he returned with a stray human woman in tow.

  Ameena turned and her eyes widened in disbelief. To his astonishment, she squealed and flung her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. Seconds later, she looked quite taken aback herself and backed away from him, cheeks blazing. “Sorry,” she muttered, though the excitement glittered in her eyes still. “I will … do what you say, I mean. Whatever you think best, OK?"

  Bram scratched at his chin, grimacing at the stubble that rasped against his fingers, he hated being unshaven. "Right, then," he said, wondering if he was actually out of his bloody mind, and how in the name of the gods a woman like Ameena would fit into the Fae Lands. Nonetheless, he couldn’t deny that something in his chest felt easier at keeping her with him. Why, he simply couldn’t fathom. "Well, we need to start preparing. Where's Jean-Pierre?"

  She rolled her eyes, looking disgusted. "Trailing around after Inés like a lost puppy dog. She's gone back to get supplies, stuff to prepare your tonic, apparently."

  "Gods," he muttered, staring at her in horror at the idea of getting involved with Inés. "Is he mad?"

  "Oh?" Ameena raised an eyebrow at him, a considering look in her eyes along with something he suspected – hoped - might be jealousy. "You looked pretty friendly, when I walked in on you."

  Bram shuddered at the idea, needing no acting talents to indicate his revulsion at the idea. Ameena laughed. She looked relieved, too, which made him smile in return.

  "Scary, huh?" she asked, grinning at him.

  Bram flushed a little, not really wanting to admit to being terrified of the woman, but by the gods, it was true enough. "I am glad to be mobile again,” he said, trying to ignore the fear crawling down his spine as he wondered how she’d claim her debt. “But ..."

  "But you may have bitten off more than you can chew?" she added with a lift of one eyebrow. She looked amused, which irritated him, though. Surely she had enough sense to be scared of a witch?

  "Don't worry,” she said, reaching up and patting his cheek with a condescending air. “I'll protect you."

  He laughed despite himself, knowing she was only teasing. "Gods, I wish you could," he said, frowning as he thought the idea through. He scratched at his stubble again with irritation, wondering if she would think him gutless, but finding the alternative was worse. "Actually, I would appreciate it if you would make sure not to leave us alone together,” he said, wondering if she would laugh at him. “If you would be so kind."

  To his relief she just nodded at him, her expression serious as she smacked him on the shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't worry, Bram, I've got your back."

  He gave a heavy sigh, wondering how it had come to this. "How terribly reassuring."

  ***

  Word of what Corin had done spread through the land like wildfire. Wherever they went, people gathered, coming out to line the streets. Families appeared in the middle of barren fields and yet others stepped out from the shadow of woodland, every one of them as grey and emaciated as the last. Corin felt his heart might never recover every time he looked into eyes that regarded him with a mixture of terror and tenuous hope. Their journey was far slower than it should have been as Corin could not bear to pass all of them by without a word or a gesture to give them hope.

  In the end, Laen had put his foot down and forbade him from stopping again. Once the job was done, he reasoned, the land would be whole again, as would its people. Corin agreed with him and knew in truth that he was right. The sooner they got to Aos Si and put an end to Auberren’s reign the sooner the people would be well, but knowing that and riding past a desperate mother with a sickly child in her arms was something else.

  By the time they finally arrived at the outskirts of Aos Si, the night had closed in on them, as had the weather. Although it pleased Corin to no end to know that Auberren's mood was so grim and foul, that was small comfort when they were stuck outside in it. The temperature had plummeted, a freezing icy rain caught up in a ferocious wind, soaking them to the skin and freezing the marrow in their bones. They had met with no resistance on their journey, and they both knew that Auberren was placing everything he had on the defensive nature of his palace. The largest and best fortified castle in the whole of the Fae Lands, he had reason enough to feel secure. It had stood for thousands of years and was thought to be impregnable.

  The wind howled harder and hail lashed down from the skies as the men struggled to make camp for the night, fighting to pin down tents and keep fires blazing in an attempt to keep warm. There seemed not to be a living thing for miles around them, nothing but dead trees and acres of barren ground that turned to mud beneath their feet as men and beast alike slipped and stumbled in the mire. The horses whickered and fre
tted, disturbed as badly as the men by the strange feel of the place. There was a weight to the air here, a stench of death and decay and hopelessness. It settled upon everyone, making nerves fray and tempers short as fears for what the morning held multiplied in the freezing darkness.

  “Laen, I can assure you I am feeling much better, there is really no need to fuss over me!” Corin snapped, his patience at an end. He knew he had more than deserved Laen’s anger this morning, but things had changed, and he was feeling much more in control. Surely he could see that? “I am perfectly capable of being left alone, I promise you.”

  Laen, however, as stubborn as ever, would have none of it and refused to let Corin out of his sight for a moment.

  “I can see you’re not in pain like before,” Laen admitted, with a taut nod of agreement. “But you’re as jumpy a cat on hot coals and you look like you’re about to combust at any moment, there’s so much magic burning around you. So you’ll stay where I can see you and that’s an end of it.”

  As far as Laen was concerned, the discussion was over. Corin, however, felt he had borne his company all day with very good grace but now he wanted some peace. Laen, though, would not let him have a tent to himself, insisting that they share. By the time the camp was settled, watches arranged, and plans for the coming battle gone over yet again, the two of them were both cold, wet, and extremely irritable, and Corin was perfectly prepared to make Laen suffer for his decision.

  They both muttered and grouched at the state of the tent. In view of the weather and the fact that it was only for a few hours before dawn, they hadn't bothered with anything more than the most rudimentary accommodation, as this was what most of the men were suffering. So a small, draughty tent, a couple of thin mattresses, and some blankets were all they had to endure the freezing night.