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

by Willem Killian

  It was enough water to flood the valley and drown most of the town. If the Korgon had been able to get his hands on explosives, and somehow learned how to use them, then there was a big possibility that hundreds, if not thousands of people could die.

  Jöanth felt the chances were slim that the Thing would ever tell him of such a plan, or that it would have the knowledge to pull it off, but they had to at least run past McKinley and have a look.

  A gated access and tall security fencing made it impossible to get within two hundred yards of the dam wall by car, so they parked and Jöanth offered to reconnoiter the area. His internal tracking system told him that the svartálvur was nowhere near, but that didn't exclude the possibility of explosives that could be detonated remotely.

  In cloaked form, Jöanth scaled and jumped over the locked gate within seconds. Eleanor and Rosewater were impressed with his speed and stealth. The women barely discussed the possibility of this being a trap and kept their conversation to a minimum and their eyes peeled.

  Six minutes later, Jöanth returned and decloaked for Charlene’s benefit, shaking his head.

  “It was lying,” he said, “there are no bombs here. No signs of foul play. A red herring.”

  The girls nodded and they returned to town in silence.

  “Should we drive around?” Rosewater asked. “Maybe your Spidey-sense will start tingling and we'll find the sheriff.”

  The pop culture reference was lost on Jöanth, but he got the gist of it.

  “There's not much else we can do,” he agreed.

  “This is going to sound terrible,” Charlene said from the back, sitting next to Eleanor, “but can we pick up some food on the way? I'm starving!”

  “Food!” Eleanor exclaimed, remembering her order from Fabrizio's.

  She phoned and apologized to the manager, Karl, offering a personal emergency as excuse. “I hope the food didn't go to waste. Did you throw it out?”

  The manager replied in the negative, saying that leftover or unclaimed food was taken to a homeless shelter at the end of the night's shift. Their food was still there, cold, but at least it wouldn't be fished from a bin. Karl promised to have the food warmed, and Jöanth's salad freshly made by the time they reached the Bistro.

  Ten minutes later, they were dining from cardboard boxes and Styrofoam containers as they cruised along the back streets of Havensford. Eleanor was famished and the pizza tasted great. Even Jöanth expressed a grunt of satisfaction over his steak and fresh salad.

  After two hours, however, their spirits were low. They were not able to pick up any signs of Walther Black. It was almost as if he was constantly on the move, able to keep ahead of them all the time.

  “Let's head back,” Jöanth said finally, admitting defeat.

  They weren't accomplishing much by just driving around. Even their conversations had died down to a steady nothingness, punctuated by their inability to think of new conversation starters. One topic was at the forefront of all their thoughts, but no one talked about it.

  Where was Sheriff Troy Troger?

  At home, Eleanor took a quick shower. She could still feel Walther Black's touch where he had grabbed her. Scrubbing her arms red did not help much. It was as if his touch lingered. It was a slimy coldness that invaded all the way to her bones, and from there to her soul. She also made sure to wash her hair twice and scrubbed at the spot where the Dim-X had touched her crown. She also made sure to disinfect the scratch that the Walther Black thing had left on her cheek.

  Despite the balminess of the summer evening, Eleanor felt the need to wear a red knitted jersey with her blouse and denims. After the day’s events, she couldn’t seem to warm up.

  She found the gang all huddled around her kitchen table, each with a mug of coffee. Jöanth stood up and poured her a cup from the prattling glass jug from the coffee machine.

  “Did we learn something from today?” Eleanor said as she sat down and poured milk and sugar into the cup. She was grateful for the coffee. She needed something to warm her up.

  “Several things,” Jöanth nodded.

  He handed Eleanor a scrap of paper with a numbered, handwritten list in a neat, but tight cursive script.

  “You write this?” she asked.

  Jöanth nodded. A smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

  “Does it work on the same principle as our spoken communication?”

  Jöanth nodded, delighted with her quick wit and deep intellect.

  “So you can't write in English?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “And yet, we all see English?”

  Jöanth nodded. “You see, just as you hear, your mother tongue.”

  “Trippy,” Rosewater said.

  “Totally,” Charlene seconded.

  Eleanor shook her head in wonder and looked at the list.

  “Svartálvur,” she read.

  “We know that now for a fact,” Jöanth answered.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. It makes sense, although I still do not know how it is able to change shape. And why its natural form is so different from the svartálvur before him.”

  “He told me about that,” Eleanor said, remembering. “He mentioned something about a small creature inside the Void. Something that was able to consume other creatures and then be able to change its shape. Ring any bells?”

  Jöanth shook his head, perplexed. “I have never heard of such a creature. There are no records of it. Especially not a creature from within the Void. And on Edínu? Intriguing.”

  “Black mentioned that you knew nothing of the Void and that it has its own eco-system. It isn't what you think it is,” Eleanor offered.

  Jöanth offered a thoughtful hmmm but didn't comment further.

  Eleanor returned to the list.

  1. Svartálvur. Calls itself Urøk the Korgon – the first of its kind.

  2. On Earth for a reason. Why?

  3. Assumed the identity of Walther Black. How?

  4. Difficult to track – probably because it uses the (original?) body of Walther Black.

  5. Has a beiier under its control.

  6. Has an interest in Charlene & Rosewater. Why?

  7. Whispering Box? Probably made from Whispering Willow. Contents?

  8. Sheriff... Why kidnap and (possibly) kill him?

  She looked around the table.

  “I guess we have some answers, but not to all of them.”

  The others nodded.

  “Some of these points create more questions.”

  Jöanth nodded again. “We'll go through them in order.”

  Eleanor nodded and sat back, letting out a long sigh. “I suppose we at least know more now than we did a couple of days ago.”

  “Progress is often slow and frustrating,” Jöanth smiled.

  “You sound like my history teacher,” Rosewater quipped.

  “Well,” Charlene joined in with a wink. “Jöanth is positively ancient.”

  The girls, Eleanor included, shared a quick laugh at Jöanth's expense. He didn't mind. They had been through a lot in the past few days. They were taking it pretty well. Most people would still be in shock and unable to react if their world had been turned upside down like this. Most people wouldn't even be able to cope, and yet, here they were, these three remarkable women, not only taking it in stride, but doing something about the evil they were facing.

  “I guess,” Eleanor said. “The most important thing we need to discuss is how we move forward.”

  Jöanth marveled at their resilience, their fighting spirit. Some human beings could be incredible when it was needed. He was lucky enough to have found three of them.

  “That is very simple,” he said. “We find it, and I kill it.”

  “Easier said than done, right?” Charlene asked.

  Jöanth nodded. He understood her concerns. It had been difficult to track the svartálvur. They knew that it had assumed the identity of Walther Black, but now that they had that know
ledge, it would move on. They wouldn't find it at the doctor's home anymore. By now, it could be anywhere.

  “We'll have to wait for it to make a move,” Jöanth said. “It's far from the ideal situation, but we don't have much of a choice.”

  The others nodded grimly.

  A second or two passed and then Eleanor grabbed the scrap of paper again, looking at the list.

  “So,” she said. “We all agree with number one? We are dealing with a svartálvur, albeit a different type to what you would expect.”

  Jöanth and the girls nodded.

  “Number two then,” she continued. “We won't know why he's here. Did he let anything slip in front of you?” She looked at Jöanth.

  He shook his head. “I was hoping he might have said something to you.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I'll have to replay our conversation in the warehouse again, but I don't think so.”

  “I do know with certainty though,” Jöanth said, “that his plan will include some kind of devastation on a grand scale. An intelligent servant of the Dark, such as a svartálvur, would not be wasted on random killings. It will have a clear and diabolical plan to wreak havoc and negatively impact thousands upon thousands of souls. Whatever it is, it will be big and will have far-reaching consequences. Its talents won't be wasted on something small.”

  The three women nodded grimly.

  “Based on what Eleanor said,” Jöanth continued, “we have an idea of how it assumed the identity of Walther Black. I still don't know the exact details of how it is possible, but that doesn't detract from the fact that this svartálvur has shape shifting abilities.”

  “You think it can change into anything or anyone it wants?” Rosewater asked, concern etched on her face.

  “I honestly do not know,” Jöanth answered. “There's no point in worrying about it, though. We can only guess, and our guesses may be well off. There's just no way of knowing anything about its shape shifting ability for sure. I do believe that it is limited. You have only seen it in two forms. Correct?”

  Eleanor and Rosewater nodded. Charlene, however, like Jöanth, had only seen it in one form, that of Walther Black.

  “That tells me that there might be limits to its ability to change shape.”

  The others nodded and didn't offer any further comments.

  “I believe the reason that I have difficulty tracking it, is because it inhabits the human body of Walther Black.”

  “Like a demonic possession?” Charlene asked.

  “Not quite,” Jöanth answered. “I think that the unfortunate Doctor Black is deceased. In this case, the host has passed on. There is no battle for his physical body nor his soul. His body has been completely taken over by the svartálvur. It probably isn't the original body any way. I think the svartálvur has created a very lifelike copy. The Walther Black we have seen, is merely a mask. The thing driving it, is the svartálvur. It's a copy of the original, it's not Walther Black's body. Or so I think at least.”

  The others nodded, still in thought.

  “I guess,” Eleanor said, “that brings us to number five. What is a beiier?”

  “An interesting creature,” Jöanth said, taking the last sip from his mug. “It is a shadow creature, which means it cannot survive in sunlight. Many think it is an incorporeal being, but it is very much a physical creature although it may not appear like one. Let me explain,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and resting his folded hands on the table. “A beiier appears as if it is a cloud of shadow no bigger than a man's head. Its body is less dense than air, which gives it the ability to float in the air. This is why those who come into contact with it think that it is perhaps a spirit or a cloud of gas.” He paused for a second. “It is sentient it possesses intelligence. According to records, beiiers are able to link telepathically with their masters and relay everything they are able to sense in a given period of time. This makes them incredibly effective spies, for lack of a better description.”

  “What do you mean by ‘telepathically relaying what they sensed?’” Rosewater asked. The look on her face suggested that she had no clue.

  “Let's say a beiier is sent to observe someone, for instance, Eleanor in the warehouse. When it is done with its observations, it will return to its master, and via a telepathic link it is able to relay everything it saw, heard, smelled and even felt to its master in exact detail. Its master will then experience these observations firsthand, as if he had been there alongside the beiier. Or even, as I understand it, as if the master himself, was the beiier.”

  “So,” Rosewater said, a frown on her forehead. “If I was the master of a beiier, and I sent it to hide on the stage of my favorite musical artist during one of her concerts, then the beiier would record everything it experienced with its senses? Then, when it meets up with me again, it could replay all of this sensory info to me and I would experience it as if I had been there myself?”

  Jöanth smiled and resisted the temptation to clap his hands. The kid got it in one go.

  “That is exactly it,” he said with a look of fatherly admiration.

  “Trippy,” Charlene smiled, recalling Rosewater's earlier comment.

  “Totally,” Rosewater mimicked.

  They both smiled at each other.

  “Coolest pet ever,” Charlene said.

  “Not quite,” Jöanth cautioned. “There's a price to pay. Apparently, the beiier is something of a psychic vampire and it feeds off your life energy. Linking with it telepathically, requires a strong mind, soul, and body. Not only is it mentally and emotionally draining on the master, but it also takes a physical toll. Beiiers have been known to cause the deaths of their masters. The longer the link, the bigger the toll.”

  “A psychic leech,” Charlene said, disgust on her face. “Okay,” she conceded, “not a cool pet to have.”

  The ladies were quiet for a few seconds as Jöanth waited for more questions. It was Eleanor who broke the silence.

  “So, it looks like a cloud?”

  Jöanth nodded. “Like a small, black, rolling thundercloud, yes.”

  “Eyes? Mouth? Nose? It records or experiences senses, right?”

  “Yes, but as far as our records go, there are no physical appendages as we know them. You will not see a nose, mouth, or eyes on it. Nor arms, legs, torso, head.”

  “Just a small rolling cloud?” Rosewater asked.

  “That's if you can spot it. Remember,” Jöanth pointed out, “this is a shadow creature. They keep to the shadows, making it almost impossible to see. They're also quite fast.”

  “Apart from the life force sucking part, is it dangerous?” Charlene asked.

  “Apparently, they have a single cephalopod-like tentacle with sharp scale-like protrusions that can produce nasty, deep cuts. But that's not the problem,” he paused making sure he had the girls' full attention. “If it is able to place that single tentacle on your head, it can create a psychic link with anyone, leaving the victim paralyzed. If the established connection is kept long enough, it can kill the other party by stealing all its life force.”

  Eleanor's hand went to her heard and rubbed at the spot where the thing had touched her. Did it create a psychic link with me? She couldn't remember feeling paralyzed. Quite the opposite. She felt restrained by the duct tape, but she had definitely been moving around. She expressed her fears to the group.

  “I don't think it created a psychic bond,” Jöanth ventured. “What would be the point? You are not its master so I don't think it wanted to show you anything. Instead it was taking something.”

  “My thoughts?” Eleanor exclaimed in shock. “Can it read minds, steal memories?” The idea frightened her more than the idea of the svartálvur tearing her limb from limb.

  “No. Not at all,” Jöanth tried to soothe her worrying mind. “It feeds off your emotions. That's probably what it was doing.”

  “Psychic vampire,” Charlene said, sticking out her canine teeth and doing her best Bella Lugosi impression.
/>
  “That sucks big time,” Rosewater mumbled and Charl stifled a giggle.

  “Let's move on,” Eleanor suggested with a smile, despite feeling thousands of little spiders crawling and scrabbling all over her scalp. “Why does our svartálvur have a thing for my girls?” She asked of Jöanth, indicating the two teens.

  He merely shrugged. “Who knows?” He looked at the girls sitting opposite him. “You both have a Glow and are Gifted. What exactly those Gifts are, I cannot say. The Korgon obviously sees something in you that I cannot.”

  “You really think it is more interested in one, or both of us, rather than Eleanor?” Rosewater asked.

  “Positive,” Eleanor answered. “I'm convinced it's only toying with me, and in the warehouse it said that it was going to kill me, and that my death would have an impact on someone else. So, it's not here for me. And since it's been spying on you, personally, I would think that leaves the two of you.”

  “But why?” Charlene nodded, as if accepting the explanation. “Why us then?”

  “Only it can answer that with certainty,” Jöanth offered.

  “Speaking of the Thing,” Charlene said, looking at Jöanth. “How do we kill it?”

  “In its human form, it will be easier.” Jöanth answered. “It might be as simple as a bullet through the brain. In its natural form as svartálvur, it will be more difficult, but one thing that has never failed, is decapitation. That kills everything, every time.”

  “Good to know,” Rosewater quipped. “Now, where can I get a shiny pig sticker like that?” she asked, eyeing Jöanth's sword.

  “Unfortunately, Drÿmwÿn was forged by the Elders tens of thousands of years ago. There are not many of these swords left in existence and the knowledge to forge the likes of this has not been passed on.” He caressed the hilt lovingly. “No human, that I know of, has ever wielded one. But,” he said, a mischievous glitter in his eye, “an axe will give you the same result most of the time. We can get you one at the local hardware tomorrow, if you like.”