Passing Through Darkness- The Complete Cycle

by Malcolm McKenzie

  Tolf, unable to contain himself, blurted out, “Who was that?”

  The soldier laughed. “That? That was just Commander Roshel, that’s all.”

  “She’s…”

  “One of the top brass of the whole legion? An Overlord? Able to strip the flesh from your bones without moving a finger? All of the above, friend, all of the above. Not hard on the eyes, though. No she isn’t. Wouldn’t mind her running those fingers over my face. Except of course if she decided to make my brains dribble out my ears. Always the downside, that.”

  My pulse was finally getting back to normal. Stunning though she was, Roshel’s impact on me had to be an effect of the Darkness.

  Didn’t it?

  Another branch of the river was contained within the city walls, and we followed it back north toward the inner administrative district. The city was quiet, but not empty of inhabitants. Some shops were open and doing business, despite the presence of Yoshana’s occupying force. I had to say, they were amazingly restrained for invaders. I wondered if they were paying for what they took. That would be unprecedented, and I hadn’t heard that the army was flush with silver. The troops were certainly in evidence, some encamped in public areas, some patrolling the streets. None interfered with us, escorted as we were.

  Tolf and Dee were trying to extract information from our guide, whose name was Carse. They learned little except that the men of the Darkness Radiant were fiercely loyal to Yoshana and her lieutenants, in this case Roshel.

  The seductive Overlord’s words echoed in my head. I think I’ll let Yoshana deal with you. If Yoshana chose to destroy us - and how would she not - I couldn’t begin to think how we could overcome her. The truth seemed like an awfully feeble weapon.

  And even the righteousness of our cause was beginning to look questionable. Our enemy’s forces professed a faith in God, showed impeccable behavior, and had no evident weaknesses.

  The inner wall was at least five miles away, but we reached it all too soon.

  Here, at last, we saw something that resembled a siege. A large contingent of Yoshana’s men, banners flying, was camped outside a vast, arched gate. Above the gate on a parapet, a smaller group of soldiers in gray tabards looked down suspiciously on them - and us.

  “Brought another damn Select?” one of them called down. “We already told you no more of your lot can go inside. And one Select is more than enough.”

  “Why don’t you come down here and we’ll have that conversation face to face?” snapped one of Yoshana’s men.

  “These are Grigg’s troops,” our guide said softly. “They don’t take kindly to cracks about the Select.” He looked at me and chuckled. “Lucky again. Maybe.”

  Prophetess stepped forward. “We do not serve the Darkness Radiant. We serve only God. We have come from Our Lady.”

  I didn't like the tone of the laughter that followed. I liked it less when one of the guards on the wall spat down near us.

  “Our Lady sends a little girl, a Select, and a half dozen beggars in rags? Well, that’s a relief. I thought we were on our own in here.”

  I shrugged and turned to Prophetess. “It looks like we’re not welcome. Maybe we should go.”

  Carse favored me with a wide smirk. Prophetess gave me a withering look that promised a scolding later, if we lived. She turned back to the guards. “Perhaps you should be grateful for what help is sent. We will see Stephen now, if you please.”

  “That you will not. His Majesty Stephen holds audience after the hour of afternoon rest. So if he were inclined to see you, which I highly doubt, he would see you in two hours.”

  One of the invaders, who I took for some sort of junior officer, chimed in. “And not then either, because he’s meeting with Yoshana herself.” The tone of his voice when he spoke the name was almost worshipful.

  “Really,” retorted the local, “and why should our lord hear your lady and not whoever else pleases him in his own hall?”

  “Because our lady has waited patiently despite arriving at the head of an army you couldn’t hope to resist.”

  “I’m confused,” said the other, and spat again. “Did you say you come in friendship or in force?”

  Yoshana’s man opened his mouth again, then was pulled aside by one of his fellows. A heated exchange of whispers followed. While that went on, the huge gate swung open. A squad of the gray-uniformed guards looked out at us. One beckoned.

  “You can’t be worse than what’s already inside. Pass, and if you truly serve God, may he watch over you.”

  “Lucky,” Carse repeated. His grin was wicked.

  The architecture of the central district reminded me of Our Lady, though it seemed less pleasant and harmonious to me. But perhaps that was just the circumstances. Here the city was silent. Not the stillness of the dead places we had passed before, but the hush of indrawn breath. Here, within Stephen’s stronghold, I felt the terrible, oppressive weight of fear.

  Our new escort of a half dozen men in gray led us quickly on, unspeaking. Prophetess moved up to thank the leader for guiding us. He had a young, open face, and there was something like pity in it.

  “We would have been kinder to turn you back, ma’am. I’ve seen Yoshana, and I hope never to do it again.”

  Then Stephen’s palace itself was before us, a vast structure of red brick and white stone, rendered more impressive still by the expanse of manicured gardens stretching in front of it.

  A semicircle of brick pavement fronted the building, decorated with statuary. Past Stephens, I imagined, all in some noble pose or other. Another group of Yoshana’s troops, several dozen of them, stood around or sat on decoratively carved marble benches. A slightly smaller contingent of Stephen’s guards was braced at attention against the facade of the palace. The tautness of their pose was a sharp contrast to the apparent unconcern shown by the besiegers. Here was their sovereign’s last line of defense.

  We marched through the Overlord’s loitering troops, straight up to the double doors of wood and leaded glass.

  “Representatives from Our Lady to see his Majesty,” the leader of our escort announced. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a shift in the stance of the nearest soldiers in white and gold.

  Stephen’s guard turned to us. “We allowed only the Overlord herself and one bodyguard to pass into our lord’s hall. I’m afraid we must apply the same restrictions to you.”

  Prophetess and I looked at each other. “I guess it’s just you and me again,” I said lightly, as my intestines tied themselves into knots.

  Dee said, “Much as I would love to accompany you, I must bow to circumstances. And indeed, some deeds are best chronicled from the perspective of a certain distance.”

  The guard came closer and whispered, “These troops around you may not look like anything special, but they’re Yoshana’s personal guard, her Knights of Resurrection.” His eyes swept Dee and Tolf, identifying them as the leaders of our group remaining outside. “If something happens, I suggest you run.”

  I summoned a weak smile. “Not to worry. In that particular matter we have one of the world’s foremost experts.”

  And then the guards swung open the doors and Prophetess and I stepped inside.

  We were in some sort of antechamber, more of Stephen’s guards facing us. Light streamed in through huge windows above, reflecting from marble tiles.

  “Representatives of Our Lady to see his Majesty,” repeated one of the men holding the door, and then shut it behind us.

  A small, balding man I hadn’t noticed got up from a cushioned chair and looked at us with evident irritation. He was finely dressed, and plainly no soldier. Some sort of chamberlain, or whatever the appropriate word was to describe the doorman who kept the rabble away from royalty.

  “This is very irregular. At least the Overlord sent an envoy to request an audience.” His eyes traveled up and down our clothes, and his nose wrinkled. “And dressed appropriately.”

  “If you’re determined to be impressed with
the things of this world, you may not find the next to be congenial,” Prophetess said coldly.

  It took the man a second to process the statement, then he flinched as if slapped. I realized my mouth was open and shut it. I had never heard Prophetess use that tone before. Much less indirectly threaten someone with damnation.

  I looked at her more closely and realized every muscle in her body was quivering, every sinew vibrating like a plucked harp string. She had walked in here so boldly I hadn’t realized she was terrified.

  More than anything I wanted to put my arm around her, but that would be out of place. So I just watched her stare at that man, her jaw clenched.

  He looked away and cleared his throat. “I’ll just announce you, then.”

  Prophetess nodded tightly, and I don’t think the chamberlain noticed the suppressed tears reddening her eyes.

  The inner doors of the antechamber matched those outside, and for the third time in as many minutes we were announced, “Representatives of Our Lady to see his Majesty.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  The hall beyond was long but not wide, paneled in dark wood and dimly lit with torches. It took my eyes a moment to adjust. Chairs were ranked on either side of a central aisle like pews in a church. And like a Universalist church, steps led up to a white marble dais, but with a huge golden chair where an altar would be.

  Guards stood at attention against the walls. Two figures stood on the dais, one on the steps, the other at the level of the throne, though a distance from it. We were already walking forward before I realized neither was Stephen.

  The nearer was Select. And massive. He stood several inches taller than I, and must have weighed at least fifty pounds more, none of it fat.

  The other brought me to a dead stop.

  Yoshana was not a large woman. She was shorter than Prophetess, and lean. But even had she not been at the top of the steps, she would have loomed over us. From a dozen paces away, I reeled in the presence of something more than human.

  It wasn’t her appearance, though that was striking. It must have been true that she was part Select, because her hair was as white as mine. Her skin was the reddish color of mahogany, her eyes a startling blue. She wore a simple, belted tunic as white as her hair, the golden symbol of the Darkness Radiant embroidered over her heart.

  Her eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit as she looked at us, the faint distaste of someone spotting a large cockroach scuttling across the dining room floor. I thought a hint of black haze shimmered in the air around her, but that might have been my imagination.

  I had never wanted so much to be somewhere else.

  Prophetess had lurched to a halt when I did, but now continued forward. I let her go. There was none of Roshel’s seduction about Yoshana. She was beautiful as a storm is beautiful. An awesome aura of power, barely contained.

  To challenge that power meant death. Prophetess slowed, each step more hesitant than the last. I stayed where I was. This time, Prophetess had stepped into something she could not overcome. But I might just be far enough away that I would be allowed to live when the storm was unleashed.

  The big Select - it must have been Grigg himself - was looking at me with something that might have been sympathy. Or pity. Or condescension.

  Ah, dammit.

  I forced my leaden feet to take a half dozen long strides to Prophetess’ side.

  Yoshana’s lieutenant favored me with a tiny half smile. The Overlord herself was not amused.

  “I don’t remember asking for witnesses to my audience.” Her voice was clear and fluid as a river. Somehow the words my audience suggested that Stephen had sought the audience with her, rather than vice versa.

  “How could it ever be a bad time to shine God’s light into darkness?” Prophetess asked.

  The Darkness can kill in a hundred ways, as subtle as stopping the heart, as brutal as rending the flesh. I wondered which it would be for us.

  A dozen heartbeats later, when the faint grimace of annoyance on Yoshana’s face hadn’t turned into anything worse, I let myself breathe again.

  “Glory to God in the highest,” said the most dangerous person in the world.

  “Glory to God,” repeated Prophetess, and bowed her head.

  I couldn’t imagine what Stephen’s guards were making of this, but someone watching through a spy hole must have rushed off to tell the monarch his guests were about to make a mess on his floor. Moments later a door opened behind the throne and a herald announced in booming tones, “His august Majesty, lord of the Source, Stephen, twenty-seventh of his name.”

  The door was wide, and it needed to be. A quartet of bearers emerged carrying a gilded sedan chair. The herald followed, reverently cradling an ornate staff.

  I stared.

  Stephen was not so much fat as almost gelatinous. Liquid folds wobbled on his jowls and exposed arms. The sweating bearers set the chair on the floor a pace from the throne. The herald handed the staff to his lord. It was painful to watch Stephen laboriously lever himself up and take two tottering steps before slumping into his cushioned perch.

  He peered out at us all with piercing gray eyes.

  Yoshana, who had turned her back on us to face him, dipped her head. “My lord Stephen.”

  “Ah. A strange turn,” the ruler of the Source said, voice throaty but strong. “A season ago we would have addressed each other monarch to monarch, but now here you stand, an exile at the head of a motley army with nowhere to call home.”

  Which seemed like a bold statement when that army was occupying his city.

  The Overlord replied, “I prefer to think of myself as a prophet leading God’s host to a new land.”

  Stephen grunted. “Well, I can see why you would prefer to think that.” His eyes turned to us. “And you? Not leading another of God’s hosts, I hope? I could hardly accommodate two of them.”

  “I am Prophetess. I come from Our Lady.”

  Again, a lie only by implication.

  “This is remarkable. Two prophets, each with her own Select.”

  “The world tends to fill up with false prophets in such troubled times,” Yoshana said smoothly.

  “Yes it does,” Prophetess agreed.

  “Only one of whom has something to offer you,” the Overlord added. “Specifically, an army.”

  “Go on,” Stephen said.

  “As you so astutely observed, my lord, I have an army without a home. Whereas you are the master of a home with, forgive me, not much of an army.”

  I shot a glance at the soldiers lining the walls. Some of them looked less than pleased to be described as “not much of an army.” But none seemed inclined to forcibly disagree with Yoshana or her hulking bodyguard.

  The Overlord continued, “This is a troubled age, my lord. The nations of the world war against each other while the demons rise in the east and the Darkness spreads untamed over the face of the earth. The land needs a strong hand to unite it. That hand should be yours - your hand, clasping the sword of God. The Lord says to my lord, sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet.”

  Prophetess stiffened at that last. “So it’s true what they say - even the devil can quote scripture when it suits her.”

  Yoshana turned slowly toward her. “The very devil? That’s quite an accusation, little girl.”

  “Can you doubt it?” Prophetess exclaimed. Her eyes implored Stephen. “Look at her, clothed in the Darkness!”

  “Even the Darkness is radiant in his sight,” the Overlord said easily. “The Lord can use any tool at hand. Even that one.”

  “It is sin!”

  Yoshana waved her hand impatiently. “It’s a tool. No different than fire.” Her eyes locked on mine for a moment, and I struggled not to step back. “Unless like the paleos you believe all human artifice is an offense to God’s order?”

  She turned back to Stephen. “The Darkness is dangerous if not controlled, yes. Or in the hands of those who can’t control it. Yo
u wouldn’t set a flame raging in a dry field, or give a burning torch to an infant. But as a weapon in a strong hand like yours… Blind force must be managed by intellect and will.”

  A look almost like lust was spreading across Stephen’s sagging face. I imagined my own face when Roshel had touched me, and was disgusted with myself. But I felt nothing like that for Yoshana - if anything, the fear, the urge to flee, had intensified.

  Prophetess cried desperately, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light.”

  “Enough,” Yoshana snapped.

  “Turn away from the Darkness, Lord Stephen,” Prophetess begged, and took a step forward.

  “I said enough!” The Overlord turned and the Darkness rose from her in a cloud, making her huge. It swirled above her, gathering like a snake about to strike.

  I grabbed Prophetess’ shoulder and pulled her behind me.

  Yoshana laughed.

  In three long strides, Grigg stepped between us, shielding both Prophetess and me. “No, Yosha.”

  The Overlord’s mouth twisted with rage and the Darkness lashed out. An answering cloud billowed out of the Select and for a moment the swirling masses met, clawing at each other.

  “You’ll just make her a martyr,” Grigg said.

  The black cloud drew back toward Yoshana and her face eased into a puzzled frown. Her bodyguard drew a deep breath, and the Darkness around him faded to a haze.

  “Well,” said Stephen. “That was instructive.”

  I stole a look at Prophetess’ face and for the first time allowed myself to hope. Yoshana had revealed herself, and we had lived. Could we have both stopped her and escaped unharmed?

  The Overlord turned back to the lord of the Source.

  “Instructive,” he repeated. He licked his lips. “Such power.”

  “No,” Prophetess murmured weakly.

  “Would you see what it can do, my lord?” Yoshana asked in a voice of silk.

  Prophetess made a soft sound in her throat and tried to step forward. I realized I was still holding her shoulder. Grigg turned to me and gave the smallest shake of his head.