Waking the Dark

by K.N. Lee

  My lips parted and eyes widened, as they arrived on the backs of wyverns, their armor glinting under the sunlight.

  Wind Riders, elite soldiers of Veruth.

  The wyverns were slim, sleek, with red eyes and large—yet elegant wings that reached the span of two men and nearly blotted out the light of the sun.

  Dust was kicked up, and a roar of rage erupted by the masked bandits as they stormed the streets.

  I knew where they were going. They were rushing toward the next tunnel that would take them to the realm of the upper class that surrounded the palace. Humans weren't allowed there without proper documents.

  With bruised knuckles, I gazed up from my spot on the ground, astounded by what I saw. The show of force by the Wind Riders sent a shiver of terror throughout my entire body.

  The Riders shot out enchanted whips made of spun elvish silken Morder steel that could bend and stretch like leather. It caught the lads by their necks and arms, and swung them into the air in a gust of wind and color that resembled blue flames.

  The yelps that came from those poor, young men filled the quiet in the square, and they reached for the whips that began to suffocate them.

  Scrambling away, I ran into the crowd of frightened bystanders, terror flashing in my eyes as I tried to escape the storm of destruction that played out before us. The cries were deafening, and screams from the horrified crowd sent shivers up my body.

  There was no warning. No second chances.

  Blood and bone sprayed through the air, as the enchanted whips cut through the bodies of the bandits. Thick red covered the once clean stone and white gates. As I glanced over my shoulder, it broke my heart, and steeled my hate of our oppressors who turned and flew back to the top of the Wyvern Tower, without so much as a word or prayer for those they’d slaughtered.

  I was left speechless, despondent. The Crows might have been the aggressors, but they didn’t deserve their fate—they never even got a trial. Their lives were cut short as quickly as their plan was hatched.

  This was the world we lived in. I almost wondered if my dream of fire was what this wretched kingdom needed.

  Hope was a figment of our imagination, but I wouldn’t let go of mine—I’d hold on with my last breath.

  Chapter Twelve

  The smell of mold affronted my senses as I lay awake, staring at the dilapidated ceiling above. As Moira snored beside me, I pushed away any dreams of working in the posh elf houses, and sighed.

  I stood from our makeshift bed on the floor and washed my face with cold water from the basin beside the hearth. There were only a few more logs left for the fire, and it burned low. If we ran out in the middle of winter, we could freeze.

  I gazed down at Moira, who wheezed from the chill in the air. It was never warm enough for her, until summer rolled around. While our mother went house to house collecting dirty laundry from her clients, guilt made my stomach churn. Sitting around without a job simply wouldn’t do.

  Of the three frocks I owned, I picked the one I’d worn to High Grove for the maid’s position from the hanging line and pulled it over my head. Frowning, I held it out, staring at how it no longer fit well. I’d grown thinner, and as I ran my hands along the front, my ribcage poked out further than it had just weeks ago when Moira mended the hem I’d torn.

  Tears burned my eyes, but I quickly rubbed them away. No room for tears. I pulled the sash around my waist tighter, and headed for the door. It was time to head to the local guild.

  Wrapping myself in a heavy cloak, I left the safety of the four walls, and escaped out into the grimy streets of Veruth. I would be lucky to stay out of the way of any of the roaming gangs who ruled the East End, especially after what I’d seen that day in High Grove.

  The slums of the sun elf city were now our only chance of survival.

  We’d fought a war with the elves centuries ago, and lost.

  Now, as their slaves, our lives were filled with the sole goal of making sure the emperor and the sun elves were kept wealthy and comfortable in their elegant homes.

  “What you doing out here, mate? Come and sit with me for a spell,” Tala, Ford’s older sister called from across the street.

  She smoked a pipe from her front door. She was lucky to afford a two-story cottage of her own, where she cared for her mixed-blood children. It even had a vase of flowers in the front window, and drapes.

  What luxury.

  Her ebony-colored hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and she wore a pretty ivy dress that probably cost a year of wages on The Wall.

  Home didn’t sound as nice as a chat with an old friend, so I shrugged, and joined her on her front stoop. We sat together, and she draped an arm over my shoulders.

  “Heading to the guild,” I said, and she chuckled.

  “What for? Waste of time, that. Thought you were going to find a place in service for the posh upper elves?”

  “Every girl from East End to west was in that line," I said, rubbing my temples. A dull ache in my head had set in, from days of little sleep and growing hunger, and she started to hand me the pipe.

  "No, thanks," I said, turning the pipe away. She gave me a sidelong glance.

  "At least you tried," she said, and puffed again, releasing a cloud of smoke into the air.

  "You're turning eighteen soon, aren't you? Any suitors?”

  "Ugh," I said, burying my face in my hands. "Don't remind me of the Blood Lottery. I’d rather wait for love. And, no. No suitors.”

  “What about Ford?”

  My cheeks burned red at mention of Ford as a suitor. Never. He was like a brother to me. Imagining a kiss other than on the cheek didn’t sit well with me. Though he was an attractive lad with nice, kind eyes, there could be nothing more than friendship.

  I shook my head. “Caiti likes Ford. She’ll make him a very pretty wife. I’ll be a spinster, I’m sure.”

  She chuckled. “Nonsense. Someone will snatch you up before you know it. Why don’t you throw your name into the lottery and see what it pulls up. You might find a handsome elf who you actually fancy.”

  A grimace came to my lips. “Doubtful. I’d rather not.”

  "Don't frown on the potential of a good master. I do pretty well with mine. Cory and Brenna are good kids, and they have a brighter future than most human children. So don’t look down on us. Our bellies are never empty, and we have a good, solid roof over our head.”

  I couldn't look at her, or say what went on inside my mind. But, I apologized, nonetheless. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “No worries, love. I know you didn’t mean it. But, the world is changing. Before long, we’ll all be mixed-bred,” she said.

  “It all just drives me mad. I just wish we could have the same opportunities as the elves. We work hard to keep the kingdom going. When do we get rewarded?”

  “Rewarded? Nonsense. You get what fate deals you and do your best to find happiness within it.”

  She shrugged when I didn’t reply, and looked off to the vendors on the other end of the street, selling wool cloaks imported from Odom, a kingdom in the west of Aranthia. Instead of crossing the ancient forests where the Dark was said to haunt, they sailed around the continent to deliver their goods via the ports.

  Fate? No, fate and I weren’t on good terms.

  I’d make my own.

  Chapter Thirteen

  My eighteenth birthday came and went.

  I’d nearly forgotten about it, until Ford showed up at my door, with a bundle of flowers.

  Eyes widening, a smile came to my face. “Where did you get those?”

  He shrugged. “I know a guy.”

  I knew what that meant. Someone stole them for him.

  “Thank you,” I said, and went inside to put the flowers in a jar with water. When I came back outside, he waited for me.

  I closed the door behind me and stepped out into the cool, afternoon air.

  “Come with me,” he said, reaching a hand out.
/>   “Where?” I asked, lifting a brow.

  “You’ve just turned eighteen. How about I buy you your first drink?”

  “Yes,” I cheered, throwing my arms around his neck.

  He held onto me a little longer than was comfortable, but I laughed and gave his shoulder a squeeze as I withdrew.

  “Off we go then.”

  I laughed, and followed behind. A drink was just what I needed. The week had been absolute rubbish, and if the drunkards outside of the taverns had taught me one thing, a bit of ale or mead could wash away all manner of strife.

  “Cider or mead,” the barkeeper said after we headed inside the only tavern with cheap enough drinks. His drawl voice was monotone as he stared at me from behind the bar.

  “Two meads,” he said, and handed him a dull copper.

  I looked to Ford, unsure of the difference between the two. The place was quiet—quieter than what I expected of a place where people went to dull their senses. A minstrel sat on the floor, near the fire, playing a instrument with strings, his eyes closed as he hummed a solemn tune.

  The girl behind the bar keeper was quick to plop two half-pint mugs before us. Ford slid mine toward me, and picked up his.

  “Enjoy,” he said, and I bobbed my head to the minstrel's song.

  I took my first taste, and grimaced.

  “Golly, its quite sweet.”

  He shrugged and drank more of his, gazing at me from over the rim of the mug.

  "Oh, well," I said, and peered into the cup at the pungent liquid. "How long before it starts to work?"

  He burst out laughing and nudged me. "You're going to have to drink more than that, mate."

  I giggled, and drank more. I held my breath to avoid tasting it, and downed the mug. It was warm, and went down my throat like a thick tonic. At least the feel of it was nice, and soothing, but as I resumed breathing, the sweet flavor lingered.

  “So, how is this for a birthday gift?”

  My grin faded as I looked up at him. It was time to reveal what I really wanted most of all.

  “There’s something else I’d like,” I said, as he took a chunk of bread from the basket the bar keeper placed before us.

  I set my empty mug down and crossed my arms over my chest. My eyes scanned the room. Several gazes were fixed on my face, and the air of the room was thick with energy that I couldn’t decipher.

  I took him by the arm. “Let’s step outside,” I whispered and we headed toward the door, but not before Ford grabbed another chunk of bread to take along.

  “What are you up to?” Ford asked, once we were standing in the street in front of the tavern.

  A lantern hung over our heads, casting a dim glow on the darkening street.

  “Take me to your brother,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as he chewed a piece of the bread.

  He lifted a brow, and scratched the back of his neck. Tension filled the air between us. “Kem? What do you want to see him for?”

  Sighing, I leaned against the side of the building, pulling my cloak tighter across my arms as a chilly breeze swept in. Keeping my voice low, I revealed my plot.

  “I need a forged invitation to the palace.”

  He almost choked on his bread. Coughing, he looked to me with widened eyes. “No. Absolutely not. Dear spirits, Ava.”

  “Why not?” I said, patting him on the back.

  He stood back to his full height, his coughing attack subsiding. “It’s too dangerous. It’s punishable by public flogging, or death if they find out you talked to a Crow or any of the rebel gangs.”

  “You do it all of the time,” I said.

  “Right, but he’s my brother. I don’t think you should get involved with him. You’re too innocent.”

  I held onto his arms, standing right before him, my eyes locked with his. "But, its worth it," I said. "If I don't find something, we will lose our cottage. Guess who will have to work in the mines if that happens. Do you want to see me come home everyday covered in soot? Or worse, to never come back at all?"

  That made him pause, and I knew I was halfway to getting what I wanted.

  I remembered Kem from our childhood playing in the streets before curfew. He was always bigger than everyone else, and a bit aggressive, but he was nice to me. He was the oldest, and had left home before I was old enough to seek out proper work.

  Maybe that's why Ford didn't want me to speak to him. I knew he fancied me, but this was more important than any of that. I had a family to support, and the palace seemed to be my last option.

  “Just arrange a meeting for me. Please,” I said, as sweetly as I knew how.

  I left it with that, and walked away before he could utter a protest. People were already staring, waiting for me to make a mistake. The whispers followed me wherever I went. By now, I’d grown used to them, and was skilled at ignoring them.

  Perhaps that’s why I didn’t mind working on The Wall. It was a place of solace, where the whispers could never reach my ears. The wind and sun were all that watched me, and for that reason, I missed it.

  I kept my head down, and covered my hair with my cloak’s hood.

  Droplets of rain began to fall, and some of the people of East End began to head back inside. No one could afford to get sick, and rain could sometimes cause a chill.

  I knew why people stared at me. It was because I looked nothing like my mother, and heard that I didn’t look like my father either. If my mother had an affair, she’d never reveal it, and I didn’t really care. My father was gone, either way.

  I’d long given up on figuring out the secrets of my past. The future was brighter. I just hoped Kem would be willing to meet with me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I arrived home, it was just before curfew.

  Buzzing from the mead, I ate soup with Mother and Moira, and then went outside to climb up to the roof. The solitude of the night was what I loved most of all. The darkness and quiet wrapped around me, like an old friend's embrace.

  The cool air caressed my face and filled my lungs as I gazed at the moon light.

  While the sun elves retreated to their homes, and the humans were forced inside of theirs, I was free. The kingdom was mine, and a smile came to my face as I realized that under the cloak of the moon I had been healed just days ago.

  “Are you there?” I asked the wind. “Come back.”

  The plea was smothered as screams from the street in front of the cottage turned my blood cold.

  Sun elves.

  They had come for someone.

  I scrambled from my spot on the roof to crawl on my belly and peer over the edge. They weren’t at my door.

  Relieved, I exhaled.

  At least it wasn’t mother or Moira.

  As I sat up in from my space on the roof, dread filled my stomach. This is what they’ve done to us. Instead of running out to save whatever poor soul was being attacked, I timidly peeked out the window and kept quiet.

  Just to save my own skin.

  My hand covered my mouth, stifling a cry, as the neighbor’s eldest son was dragged out of their home, just across the stone road. His sister and mother wailed, reaching for him as he was pulled away.

  The sky was still dark, and an eerie fog had settled into the thoroughfare. His face was like stone, and he didn’t flinch as the sun elf guards bound his hands in front of him.

  “This lad is an accused member of the Crows, and charged with the murder of a High Elf lord. As such, he will be executed at dawn,” one of the soldiers said.

  Those words sent a frigid chill up my spine. I gasped and rolled onto my back, afraid of being seen.

  Covering my mouth, I stared at the inky black sky and did something I had stopped doing when I was just a little girl.

  I prayed to the moon god—prayed for him to save us.

  Not just my family, but all of the humans kept within that stone wall.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kem

  I sat at my throne, listening to the
trickling of water.

  It was a seat of stone I’d carved myself, and overlooked the waterfall that seeped into my underground kingdom from the river above. I’d swam through the dark pool below, in search of a way out of the kingdom, under The Wall, and each time I’d nearly died.

  The sun elves had us caged in quite well, but from my world below theirs, I almost felt free. I was the king of my domain, and they couldn’t touch me.

  “Uh, pardon me, Kem,” Azur said, stuttering as he approached from the cavern corridor that led to the main cave where the other crows communed each evening.

  I ignored him, sipping my wine from a fine jeweled chalice.

  Gazing down at the rubies along the rim, I swished the bitter liquid around my mouth and swallowed before paying the boy any mind. He knew better than to interrupt me.

  How should I punish him?

  “Your brother is here,” he said, and I lifted a brow.

  Perhaps he had a good excuse after all.

  “Send him back,” I said, standing from my seat. I drank another sip of the wine and stood at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the underground lake. The waterfall trickled into it, through three holes that resembled two eyes and a mouth.

  What was Ford doing here? In search of more gifts to woo his lady friend, no doubt.

  I waited for the sound of his boots on the slick, wet stone, and closed my eyes. He smelled of home. Though foul, it brought back the best memories. Family, pretty girls, the crowded taverns.

  “Kem?” Ford called. His voice was timid—almost as if he was afraid of me.

  Did he know what I’d done?

  I poured the rest of the wine downward into the darkness at my feet. An expensive waste.

  Turning to face my brother, I put on my jovial face. He deserved to see me as the boy from his memory. Not the man I’d become.

  “What brings you here, dear Grifford?” I asked, setting my chalice onto a small wooden crate at the side of my throne. Clasping my hands before me, I took a step toward him. “Come to ask Ludwig for fresh flowers? Or, is it a bag of coins to buy your little love food and mead?”