by Dan O'Brien
“We have many rooms,” she began, but was interrupted by a craven, bent man who emerged from the same corner as the girl.
His thinning gray hair was almost non-existent, and his glasses slid to his nose. The freckles and dried skin made him appear the part of a troll. His back was crooked and his clothes hung from him as if he were a walking skeleton that had just risen from his grave.
“From where have you come?” asked the man with a harsh tone, his voice raspy.
“Far away from these parts, we are merely passing through,” replied Xeno quickly, knowing full well that the man was wary of strangers; especially those who had come looking for spirits in the darkness.
“Far away, eh? Your companion looks the part of a soldier,” crooned the old man.
“No, sir,” began Uthen and then trying to think quickly, he continued, “I’m a––uh…”
“We are entertainers, from the west. We have merely lost our way,” finished Xeno, flashing Uthen a disgusted glance. The man regarded them suspiciously and then scoffed, disappearing around the corner.
“Entertainers?” queried the girl with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
“Storytellers mostly,” replied Xeno as he opened the satchel of coins. “How much for that room?”
“Seven gold is what we charge, but if you are entertainers….”
“Seven it is,” replied Xeno as he placed the seven golden coins marked with the emblem of the Nine Kings near the girl. She made them disappear beneath the table into an iron box.
“Would you tell me a story sometime? We don’t have many strangers who pass through, and none who can weave a wonderful tale.”
Xeno hesitated for a moment. “Of course, we shall tell a grand story of good and evil here tonight, after some rest. How does that sound?”
“Thank you, I will be waiting.” The girl skipped off. This was a change from the somber zombie who had stalked out to wait upon them.
“Was that wise?”
“Uthen, sometimes the Fates choose to play strange tricks upon us mortals, and it is best to just take them as they come.”
Uthen could not fault Xeno’s words, knowing that he would be reluctant to deny a few moments of peace to a town steeped in its own despair and misery. As they made their way up the stairs, they saw that snow had begun to fall once again.
6
K
arian wandered about her chamber, her thoughts disturbing. She spun like a deranged youth, her head moving independent from her body. Her mind was incoherent as the she mumbled.
“Ariana of Devonshire, you have committed a tremendous sin. Sin against your family and sin against your code,” called the ethereal voice from the shadows of the room.
The were-beast did not move at the sound of the voice nor did the whelp stir from its slumbering perch. Karian stopped mid-spin and looked around, bewildered.
“You cannot escape your past, your choices that have led you here.”
“I have no fault. I am Karian, mistress of the lords of darkness,” replied Karian. Her eyes searched the darkness that she occupied.
The shadows parted and a glowing visage emerged: a white-cast figure that at first did not seem to be form at all, but instead comprised of air and light. As it came closer to Karian, it took form.
It was a mirror image of Karian herself.
“No creature of the shadow can ever truly be complete. You yearn to make things right, to rectify the things that drove you here,” called the voice again, this time challenging Karian.
“You are a ghost. An apparition conjured by the Light to confuse me, to break me from the bond that I have with the lords of darkness. But you cannot, I will remain strong,” screamed Karian, her voice quickly becoming hoarse and strained.
Her hand plunged into the shadow. The weapon of darkness materialized once again, the craven disfigured steel was meant to be menacing to the brilliance of the apparition.
“You have chosen to fight. That is wise. For it is the only way you can ever free yourself from the bondage that confines you.”
The image shimmered and a blade emerged from her hand as well, a contrast to the shadow steel. Instead, the hilt was carved of pearl strands and the guard the wings of an angel.
“I will show you the power of darkness,” roared Karian as she charged forward, the blade spinning and wheeling with decisiveness. The image backpedaled to the right, the translucent blade parrying the strikes easily.
“You cannot defeat what you wish to become, what you once were: a servant of the Light,” spoke the angelic mirror image.
“I was never a servant of the Light,” screamed Karian again as her eyes faded to black irises and her blade exploded in shadow fire.
Her strikes returned, this time with renewed force. The apparition materialized around the room, her teleportation making Karian’s attacks seem like the fleeting actions of a child. The Widow screamed in frustration, anger blinding her attacks.
“Your powers have dwindled during your service to the darkness. There was a time when your brother could not best you half of the time.”
“Never speak of my brother. He is poison. He abandoned me.”
“You are wrong, Karian. You abandoned your brother when you began to serve the lords of darkness. Your choice separated you from the only family you had.”
“Lies. All you have are lies.”
“You should be used to it then. The darkness is founded on lies and deceit.”
“No, I….”
Karian dropped the blade, the shadow weapon materializing back into the darkness from whence it came. She fell to her knees, her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed in the darkness, alone. The apparition dissipated back into the shadow. Only the lingering words that it had said remained for Karian to carry, until a choice would be made for her.
*
Night had returned and with it a blizzard of tremendous proportions. The whipping winds and torrential snowdrifts assaulted the minuscule town of Sel’verene. Its people could feel the grip of the storm’s power.
The inn had no occupants other than Xeno and Uthen. Their progression down the stairs drew strange glances from all of the townspeople gathered about the common room. The girl who had tended the counter sat closest to the fire, her youthful face intent upon the flickering flames. She turned as Xeno and Uthen entered the room, her face bright in wonderment.
“Master Entertainers,” she called as she rose from her seated position.
“My lady,” returned Xeno with a slight bow and then nodded his head to the other surly members of the room. Uthen followed behind Xeno and sat across from him as they took their seats closest to the fire. “Whenever you are ready, young miss.”
“Please begin.”
The others turned their miserable glances and furrowed brows to Xeno. He cleared his throat and rested his arms along the arms of the chair. “As you wish, my lady. Do you know of the kingdom of Devonshire far to the west?”
There were mixed murmurs and acknowledgments. Some of the older townspeople were perturbed by the mention of Devonshire, their hands covering their mouths at its utterance.
“The kingdom of Devonshire,” whispered Uthen.
“Devonshire was a grand place, a bustling metropolis of men and women who had stood the test of time against the failings and trappings of the Towers of Darkness. The warriors were called the Masters of the Spirits and the Song Maidens of the goddess Devonshire. The most powerful king to ever rule Devonshire, Giorden, Son of Gallion, had two children. They were his warrior son and the most beautiful Song Maiden in existence, Ariana.”
Xeno paused for a moment. As he cleared his throat, he began again. “The dark armies of the Towers of Darkness rode upon Devonshire, their legions extending far off into the horizon. Their mission was to eradicate the stronghold of Devonshire, taking away the only pillar left of man. Giorden had battled the legions of shadow as a youth under the command of his father, Gallion. He knew that they
were not invincible. He rallied his armies, led by his warrior son, and together they met the legions of darkness on the battlefield. A grand battle ensued. Many lives were taken; some became servants of the Towers. But at light’s dawn, the armies of Devonshire had beaten back the legions. They saw victory, but a false victory it was.
“When they re-entered the city, they saw the damage the legions of the Towers had inflicted upon the citizens of Devonshire. Women and children were taken by the darkness to be turned for their purposes. But of all the gems taken that night, the one that hurt Giorden the greatest was his daughter, the Song Maiden Ariana. The legions dare not descend upon Devonshire again, for they had felt the might of the armies of the Light. But the desperation of the king soon grew so great and evil found its way into the heart of Devonshire. Turning the people from the path of peace to the misery of pestilence, they accepted and worshiped the Towers of Darkness.”
Xeno had gone from a pastoral tone to an aggrieved, somber tone that affected those listening to his tale. “Needless to say, Devonshire was no longer the grand city it had once been. The son pleaded to his father to restore the peace, to beat back the depravity of the Towers. But, his father was far beyond words––the turning of his only daughter had rendered him no more a man than a shadow. The skies grew gray and the seasons changed. During one of the coldest nights Devonshire had ever felt, Ariana returned to her father; no longer the beautiful Song Maiden she had once been, but instead a cruel, twisted creature of the Towers. She took the most prized possession of Devonshire, the crest worn by the queen of the Song Maidens. This was something that had been passed down for generations, something that might have been Ariana’s someday, if she had not been taken by darkness.”
Xeno paused and rose from his seat, his hand at his chin and his head lowered in contemplation. The entire audience was his. They were enraptured by the sad tale and as the moments passed in silence, the young girl soon found that she wished to hear more.
“What happened? What happened to the warrior?” queried the young girl.
“The warrior left the kingdom he had pledged an oath. He set out to find a way to stop the darkness,” replied Xeno, his face rising and melding into the shadows. A great sadness was hidden within the lines.
“He just left?” queried Uthen, his curiosity piqued.
“I am afraid so. He found that he could no longer bear the condition of his father, and the memory of the tragedy that destroyed his birthplace.”
Xeno moved away from the fireplace, making his way back toward the far door. The sheath to his weapon was already strapped across his back and his pack strewn across his shoulder. He drew his hood close to his face, his gloved hands shaking.
Uthen rose at the sight of this.
“Xeno, what is the matter?”
“We must go now. We have spent far more time here than I would have wished. This storm will hamper our progress greatly. I wish to end this soon,” returned Xeno gruffly, his face hidden.
The young girl rose and approached Xeno, her hands wringing one another. “Master Entertainer…”
“Xeno. My name is Xeno Lobo,” he replied.
“Why must you leave, Xeno?”
“Young lady, there are some things that are best left unsaid,” replied Xeno.
“Does this have to do with the Widow?” she queried.
“Maian, you are never to utter that name here,” cautioned the elderly caretaker of the inn.
“But this man could help us. That woman took my brother and we did nothing to help. You all just stood and watched as she took him. You are monsters.”
“Your brother was a fool to go to the Tower, and he paid for his foolishness with his life,” spat the caretaker, his hand raised to strike the girl.
Uthen interceded and grabbed the elderly man. Shaking his head, the soldier’s meaning was not mistaken. His dark eyes and muscular face were far more menacing than the caretaker would have liked.
“What happened to your brother?” queried Xeno, moving from the shadows back into the light of the fireplace. The girl looked at the scowl on the old man’s face and then moved closer to Xeno.
“My brother, Melnon, approached the Widow in order to try and stop her. He bartered with her, bet his life against a contest of sorts. The Trials of Pain she calls them. And if he survived, then she would leave this place. Melnon accepted. He escaped back to the village, but was pursued by the Widow and her pet. They killed him not too far from here. He begged for help and he found none,” replied Maian sadly.
Xeno looked down, and then to Uthen. The soldier’s face was a canvas of emotions. “Can you use a weapon?” queried Xeno without looking up.
“I can use a bow,” returned the girl.
“Can you pack your belongings and walk away from this place forever?”
The girl’s eyes twinkled with tears and she nodded her head. Xeno gestured to go upstairs and the girl did so without hesitation, her footfalls echoing in the silence that had fallen between the caretaker, Xeno, and the others.
“We cannot allow you to take her,” spoke the caretaker.
“We will do so anyway,” returned Xeno.
Drawing his blade, he planted himself in their path. His head was lowered, hidden in the darkness that harbored his emotions. The caretaker backed away from Uthen, his eyes never leaving Xeno. He whispered among the other townspeople, their accusing eyes immediately focusing on Xeno and Uthen.
Uthen leaned in close to Xeno.
“We have to take the girl.”
“I know.”
“They aren’t going to let us walk out of here with her.”
“I know this as well.”
“She will die here if we don’t help.”
“Then we will help,” replied Xeno, twisting his wrist and flicking the blade from the floor to a ready position.
He looked at the blade, the firelight intermittently casting a glare upon the polished steel. The girl rambled back down the stairs, her bow in her hands. A quiver and pack were strapped across her back. She wore a brown cloak that seemed far too long for her. A hood was pulled over her features.
“What now?” queried Uthen as the townspeople rose from their seats and approached them.
Xeno stepped in front of Maian, keeping his eyes on the roving eye of the mob. “Maian, follow Uthen and don’t look back, don’t you dare. You understand that, Uthen?”
Uthen nodded grimly and backpedaled out the door. He raised his mammoth blade and used his free hand to guide the girl out the back door. They disappeared into the darkness outside as the mob descended upon Xeno, their voices rising slowly.
“You will not make it to the Tower.”
“I would have to disagree.”
The mob charged him now, their faded blades swinging clumsily at Xeno. He parried and dodged without effort, burying his blade deep into the flesh of those close enough. From the others, he simply took the ability to wield a sword away from them. Xeno’s leg flashed out with practiced speed, utilizing not only his steel weapon, but his physical ones as well.
“That should be quite long enough.”
Xeno spun around.
Dragging his blade with him, he used the momentum to gash whatever stood in his path and then leapt. His body twisted and catapulted like an acrobat, sending him sailing through the frozen window pane at the front of the inn.
He curled into a ball as he fell and somersaulted through the drifts of snow. On his feet in an instant, his feet churned beneath him, following the fresh tracks that Uthen and Maian had made only moments before.
The caretaker emerged from the building, his worn face covered in blood. He turned to a grim man behind him who had lines older than the earth carved into his face. Speaking in dark, growling tones, he pointed with a crooked finger.
“Release the beasts.”
The man nodded and disappeared around the building. Moments later, the sounds of vicious snarling and howling filled the night and raced into the darkness aft
er the fleeing heroes who had left Sel’verene that night.
7
U
then breathed heavily as he charged through the shrubbery; his face assaulted by branches and tangled bundles of frozen limbs. Maian barely made a sound beside him as she kept pace with the much larger man. She moved effortlessly, and the pack upon her back looked far too large for such a child.
The woods bounced across his vision.
As he watched the girl, the slope suddenly deepened and he was caught unaware. Falling to the ground with a thud, he rolled to a stop against the stump of a tree. Maian immediately sensed Uthen’s fall and stopped beside him. Her eyes were wide and glazed as she peered close to try and look at his face. “Are you alright?” she queried, her breaths calculated.
Uthen dusted the snow off his pant leg and used the tree to level himself once again. “Yeah, wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“We have to keep going,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation, pulling on his arm urgently. Uthen looked down at her small hands and allowed himself to be led a little bit before stopping the both of them.
“Why the urgency? We are surely far enough away from town now. They wouldn’t travel this far into the forest with the Tower being so close.”
“They are not what I am worried about. The beasts are coming, I can smell them.”
“The beasts?”
“The caretaker will release them. I have been tainted by the Widow and they mean to keep me until she comes for me, just like my brother. That was the compromise. He bet the lives of our bloodline in her dark galleries.”
The howling came again. This time the beasts were close enough for Uthen and Maian to hear them. They both turned at the sound. Uthen’s face was cold and ready, Maian’s masked with fear and apprehension.
“Was that them?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her body cowering as she backed away.