Stirring Embers: An urban fantasy action adventure (The Light and the Void Book 1)

by Willem Killian

  Eleanor looked away from him with tears in her eyes, thinking of all the examples of abuse and misery and agony she had encountered in her short span as an investigative crime reporter.

  “I understand,” Jöanth said, surprising her by leaning forward and resting his hand on hers. “I really do. The example you used of these exploited children,” he paused, thinking, “this is a problem created by evil men. This is a problem borne of man, not the Creator.”

  “But why does He allow it?” Eleanor asked earnestly. “If He is all-powerful and the creator of everything, He can change everything with a simple thought, right?”

  “I cannot answer that,” Jöanth answered truthfully. “It is not my place to question these things.”

  “So, we must just accept these things?” Eleanor asked, the anger growing in her again; shrugging his hand off and sitting back in her chair, folding her arms defiantly.

  “Not at all,” Jöanth answered. “You should not just accept it. It is up to good men to do something about it.”

  Eleanor humphed. “You haven't answered my question. Why does He allow it?”

  “I cannot answer Eleanor. No one can.”

  “That doesn't help those children, does it?”

  “No, it does not. And before you accuse me of not caring, I agree. It is not fair towards them. They are children.” Jöanth stared at the window for a few seconds. “I believe that innocents, like children, are guaranteed a place on the higher plane. But that is my opinion.”

  “That still doesn't ease their suffering while they are still alive, does it?”

  Jöanth didn't have an answer that would soothe Eleanor's hurting heart. “That example of misery and suffering is created by man, and only man can solve it.”

  “What about natural disasters?”

  “They will always happen,” Jöanth answered with a frown, not really understanding where Eleanor was going with this. “People cannot live forever, Eleanor.”

  “I understand that,” she hissed, “but why do some have to go in such terrible fashion? Burnt to death? Dying of hunger? Mutilations? There's no reason for it!”

  “None that we can understand, no,” Jöanth said.

  This seemed to add fuel to the fire. Eleanor jumped up, grabbed the folder and threw it across the room towards the desk. It hit the side, spilling its contents, pages flying everywhere. Eleanor started sobbing, rushed over and started picking up her notes and drawings. Jöanth joined her and silently, they replaced everything in the folder. Once done, Eleanor placed the folder on the middle of the desk, almost reverently.

  “I'm sorry,” she apologized, more in control of her feelings.

  “No need to apologize,” Jöanth said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I understand your frustrations. I also understand that I am merely adding to your problems. For that, I apologize.” He retracted his hands and stared at her, glad to see that most of her anger had passed.

  Eleanor nodded and looked at the folder.

  “You were telling me about the svartálvur,” she said, returning to her leather chair.

  Jöanth followed suit and sat down as well.

  “You understand how we are bound by duty and only live to serve the Light?”

  She nodded.

  “Sometimes, an álvur is ensnared by the Void. They are captured and subjected to intense torture inside the Void. Body and soul are subjected to these unnatural pressures over several decades, sometimes for centuries, until they either pass on, or they are twisted into something anathema to their true nature. Instead of serving the Light and upholding all that is good by living a life of peace and love, they become a servant of the Dark. Now they live only to kill, cause chaos, and sow seeds of discord and hatred. They become the complete opposite of an álvur. They become an abomination.” He paused for a second, looking out the window once again. “They change emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and even physically,”

  “Like that Thing?” Eleanor blurted, looking towards the desk and her drawings.

  “Not exactly. Because the Void is an all-consuming, living breathing darkness, a svartálvur's physical appearance will alter, but not as extreme as the creature you have drawn. They have been known to have darker skin, sometimes oily black in extreme cases where they have spent centuries in the Void. They turn into predators that hunt and consume their prey raw. They can develop claws, their teeth sharpen, they have additional abilities, like keener hearing and eyesight in the dark. Their skin also changes into something akin to reptilian and so forth, but their basic body structure remains the same.”

  “You're referring to a form of evolutionary chance, where the body adapts to its environment?” Eleanor asked.

  “Yes, but at a much faster pace. Instead of generations or thousands of years to bring about a change, the Void seems to speed the process up. I cannot explain it to you as I do not know how it is possible myself. Perhaps the Void is a remnant of the primordial ooze and it still retains some of that pre-creation power and magic. Who knows? But it has limits to how it can change a creature like an álvur, that is imprisoned there. It takes time to implement changes at the cellular level,” Jöanth looked back at her, frowning. “The creature as you have described it, has changed considerably. It has additional eyes, the ears have changed, the jaw has changed completely, it is much bulkier, taller even, has additional digits on its hands, and less on its feet. These changes are unheard of. I do not know how they are possible. It defies belief.” His eyes flicked to her. “Not that I do not believe you,” he said gently. “There are things about it that I have a hard time understanding, least of which is its physical appearance. I also have trouble tracking it to a precise location. At times, I can feel the link between us. It is strong and I know where the beast is, like yesterday in the woods. But then there are times when I am not even sure that it is in this town. The link is almost non-existent. To me, that is more worrying than its ability to have changed its physical aspects so drastically from what it once was.”

  Jöanth fell silent again, deep in thought as his eyes returned to the window.

  “You're not worried about its scale-like armor? Those extra limbs and claws? And it has extra eyes, so surely it has extra abilities too? You're not worried?”

  Jöanth shook his head and smiled. “There's no point in worrying about it. I will only be able to assess the svartálvur’s strengths and weaknesses once I confront it in battle. It may seem invincible, but I have successfully fought and killed much bigger beasts than it. There is always a way for the Light to defeat the Dark.”

  Eleanor nodded, deep in thought. “Do you know who it was?” she finally asked.

  “I am not entirely certain, no,” Jöanth answered, his gaze returning to the dark woods at the end of her property boundary. “Over the last thousand years, only a handful of álvur have disappeared without a trace. If this is indeed a svartálvur, then it can only be one of two álvur. I wasn't befriended to either of them, but I do know who they were. One was a scholar, Ulríck by name. A record keeper of sorts, keen on learning more about the Void. He was arrogant and it cost him his life. He thought he could enter the Void and through righteousness alone, would be able to defeat the creatures within. The second was a youngster, barely two hundred years old. Eíríc was still an acolyte in training to become a Royal Palace Guard. He was taken by the Void in a battle and never seen again. The scholar would now be nearing the end of his life cycle, the younger would be around five to six hundred years old in Earth terms.”

  “Whoa!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Six hundred! Is this normal? You said it could take centuries to turn an álvur into a svartálvur, but it never clicked. What's your life expectancy?”

  “A life cycle is a thousand years on Edínu.”

  “You live to be a thousand?” Eleanor nearly shouted.

  “If we are not killed, yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.

  “This is crazy,” Eleanor said, her tired brain trying to place yet another piece of t
he puzzle.

  “How old are you?” she finally asked, giving up and just accepting the information overload.

  “I am now around seven hundred and fifty years old.”

  She looked him up and down. Jöanth looked like a buff gym freak in his early thirties. The guy aged well.

  “Insane,” she murmured.

  “If you do not have any more questions,” he suddenly said, his gaze moving away from the window. “I suggest you try and get some sleep. Personally, I would not take those pills. Something was not right about that man.”

  “Don't worry,” she said. “I have an idea I won't be needing them. I am dead tired. Can I get you anything before I go comatose?”

  “I will be fine, thank you.”

  Eleanor gave a tired nod. “Before I go to bed, I just want to see if I remember the basics.”

  Jöanth nodded encouragement.

  “You are an álvur monster hunter from Edínu, the center of the universe.”

  “Cosmos,” he corrected.

  “What's the difference?” she asked, her tired mind unwilling to retrieve information she was positive she knew.

  “The cosmos is bigger. It contains several universes.”

  “Gotcha,” she said, giving a slow thumbs up. “You are a race of warriors protecting us all from the darkness, you live to be a thousand and you're tracking a possible svartálvur that escaped from your world and is now in ours?”

  “In short, yes,” he replied.

  “All righty then. I'll see you tomorrow morning.” She wanted to add something, felt the need to, but her tired brain didn't know what it should say.

  She couldn't believe she had been overcome with such a complete tiredness so quickly. She wondered if she was going to make it up the stairs.

  “Eleanor,” his voice stopped her.

  She tiredly turned around, not remembering that she had begun walking down the short hallway towards the stairs.

  “Thank you for all you have done thus far. And thank you for inviting me into your home. You can sleep soundly. You will be safe. The question remains: where would you like me to sleep? I am comfortable outside.”

  “Given what your job is, I can understand that,” Eleanor answered thinking of how difficult it would be chasing monsters all over different universes. He'd be used to sleeping outside by now, “but there's no need for it tonight. When last did you sleep on a bed? I have spare rooms,” she added quickly, remembering her school girl flushes from earlier, hoping her aura wouldn't hint at anything. If possible, she was going to try her best not to look like a strawberry again.

  “That is kind of you, thank you. But no,” Jöanth answered diplomatically, his eyes not giving anything away. “Human beds are not designed for the likes of me.” He nodded to the plush leather couch where he had been sitting. “I will sleep here, if you do not mind.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Okay,” she said. “There is a spare bathroom down the hall and to your left, but it only has a toilet and basin. If you would like to take a shower or bath, you will need to use the upstairs facilities. And you're welcome to use them, there is soap and towels,” she added as an afterthought. She looked at his clothing. “Do you need any laundry done?”

  Alone in the room and in such close proximity, Eleanor realized that the álvur gave off no scent. For a person that spent most of his time outdoors, hunting and tracking vile creatures, you would expect him to stink to high heaven (or probably the lowest hell), but he didn't.

  “You have a question,” he stated.

  “Forgive me for being so brash, but you don't smell.”

  Jöanth smiled. “It is a combination of things. As a Tracker, our bodies have adapted to make our hunting as effective as possible. Over millennia, our bodies have adjusted in certain aspects to become the ultimate hunters. Keener hearing and eyesight are but two of these traits. Another, is that we do not have a distinctive body odor. It is near neutral to the olfactory glands, even after we have exerted ourselves physically.” He smiled again. “We obviously don't want creatures from the Dark to be able to smell us from a mile away.”

  “But surely your clothes?” Eleanor began and stopped.

  If your sweat doesn't stink, then your clothes won't either, she reasoned.

  “Smelly clothes are a product of two things. Your own body odor and external factors,” he confirmed her theory. “But the clothes are also unique and made in such a way to support us in our quests.”

  He pulled at his shirt sleeve and Eleanor was surprised at how far he managed to pull the fabric. It seemed very elastic.

  “This is made from ünid, a plant similar to flax, but with better properties. As you can see, it is very flexible, it is extremely durable, an excellent insulator but at the same time very breathable. Dirt particles and other environmental elements do not cling to it easily, so it is extremely easy to keep clean. The best thing about it is,” Jöanth opened one of several pockets on his pants. The flap of the pocket was held closed by a simple rectangular button, which seemed to have been carved from a precious stone.

  Now that they were standing next to each other, she was able to take a closer look at the tall álvur and his clothing. She noticed several pockets along the sides of his pants. The pants were made from a different material. Although similar in color, the texture looked different from the shirt he was wearing. The pockets were of varying sizes, each one with a different stone or button.

  Custom-made cargo pants for the modern-day monster hunter, Eleanor smiled inwardly.

  Jöanth produced a small, square piece of folded fabric. It seemed to be made of the same fabric as his shirt. The square of folded fabric fit neatly in the palm of her hand.

  “Unfold it,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

  Eleanor, unable to stand any longer and fearing she might fall over, shuffled to the nearest chair and plonked down, her fascination getting the better of her. She looked at the folded square from all sides, even smelled it (it smelled like nothing), and then she started to unfold it. As if by magic, the small piece of cloth seemed to defy physics and kept unfolding until it was a long sleeved shirt. She was also amazed at how light the shirt was. She stretched and pulled at it, turned it inside out. Eleanor saw that it looked exactly the same on both sides. She then held it up to the light and saw that no light filtered through until she stretched it all the way.

  “Amazing,” she breathed in awe.

  “Fold it again,” Jöanth prompted.

  He was proud that despite their lack of technological wonders like the humans, álvur could still be inventive and produce incredible feats of their own type of science.

  “Any specific way?” Eleanor said unsure, referring to the folding of the garment.

  “After every fold, just make sure to press the folded part down firmly.”

  Eleanor nodded, got on her knees and placed the garment on the floor. She started folding the shirt as she would fold a t-shirt to go into a suitcase. After every fold, she pressed the shirt firmly and the fabric seemed to compress itself beyond what it was supposed to. Within a few short seconds, she held the folded shirt in her palm once again. The shirt's magical compression qualities seemed to have a limit, as she couldn't get it any smaller. The fabric wouldn't fold any more than it already had. She handed it back to Jöanth, truly impressed.

  “The pants are made from a different material?” she noted as Jöanth placed the folded shirt back in its place.

  “Yes,” he answered. “The pants are made from the tanned and treated skin of a nøbruuk. The nøbruuk is a great herbivore that is found in the plains of Obruuk. They shed their skin, much like snakes do on Earth. The closest material you have to nøbruuk skin in terms of texture, is cow leather. The difference is that these nøbruuk pants are completely weather proof. It breathes in the summer, retains body heat in the winter, water and wind cannot penetrate it from the outside and it is extremely strong. I have a nøbruuk vest underneath my shirt as well. The problem with this
material is that it is not as flexible as the plant-based ünid fabric. My boots are made from nøbruuk leather as well. You might have noticed that there is the minimum amount of friction from all these materials.”

  “Friction?” Eleanor asked, confused.

  “They are silent,” he said and vigorously wiped his hands on his pants and then his shirt. There was no discernible sound.

  “Amazing.” Eleanor ventured again. “But it still doesn't answer my question. Do you need any laundry done?”

  Jöanth nodded and then shook his head. “Thank you for the kind offer, but it is not necessary. All I need is some clean water. There's no need for your fancy soaps and machines. These clothes were made for the constant traveler, thank you. The basin will suffice.” Apparently, that concluded the laundry topic. “Good night Eleanor Kraye. May you have a good rest.”

  “Thank you, Jöanth the álvur.” She replied, resisting the urge to curtsy. “Good night.”

  She barely managed to make it out of the library-study, a pervasive tiredness having suddenly overcome her. She couldn't help but yawn in the most unladylike fashion as she scrabbled up the stairs, leaning onto the banister for support. Her bones seemed to weigh tons. She couldn't wait for bed.

  Sleep will come quickly, she thought. Who needs the weird Doc Black's pills, anyway?

  CHAPTER 34

  Jöanth waited until he heard the slow breathing of his hostess before he started contemplating on the day that had passed.

  It had been an interesting series of events.

  At first it had been a slow day.

  His quarry seemed to have disappeared, and if it wasn't for the faint feeling that his quarry was still in town, somewhere, and somehow having gone to ground, then Jöanth would have thought that the Thing had escaped again, possibly to another world. There were a few scattered CéataCranné within easy reach. One just so happened to be next door. The fact that there was a Tree Portal on the adjoining property wasn't lost on Jöanth.