by R D Wolfe
Over half of the troll’s defending forces had been lost as the battle drug on. They owed their victory to the wraiths, who Darien could see gathered near the southern corner of the grey city. After finishing off the last of the enemy soldiers, the wraiths had remained in the bodies they had stolen from Cyprin’s army. This allowed them the freedom they so desired, and for the time being at least, to abandon their hatred of the people of Olympus. Darien was glad to see that they could finally be free, at least in a sense.
The wraith who had possessed him had left as the battle concluded. Once it was clear that the citizens of Farkland Reach would be the victors, Darien had retreated into the safety of the castle at the request of the Queen, and his misty partner returned to assist his own people, taking the body of a particularly large cyclops. Darien had gone to him that morning and thanked him for his help. The wraith hadn’t yet gained mastery of the corrupted body enough to talk, simply nodding, blinking his one giant eye.
Darien walked back towards the city gates and made his way into the castle, where trolls were lined up in the halls on makeshift beds and stretchers. The temporary hospitals in the city’s houses had been moved into the castle to allow the survivors to return to their homes. Darien walked past them, some nodding in his direction, others asking to speak with him for a short period of time, begging promises that he would stop Cyprin. Darien did so, keeping he faces of the fallen clear in his mind, especially Torin’s. Why this death impacted him more than any other, Darien couldn't say, except that he had felt a piece of himself break at the centaurs last breath.
Eventually, he had worked his way past the injured to enter the council chambers. No one was inside. Darien was early, for once. The leaders of the battle had all decided that they would meet here, but none had yet arrived. Enjoying the temporary silence, he sat in one of the chairs, the same he had occupied in each of his meetings with the others. It was nice to have no one around to ask questions or beg him to save them from their misery.
Rubbing his temples at a headache that had been growing ever since the wraith had left his body, Darien set his head down on the large table, resting it on his folded arms and feeling the cold of the stone seep into his forearms. Just as he had started to relax, he felt a strong arm shaking him awake. It was Rist.
“Oh, sorry, I must have drifted off. I haven’t slept since…” Darien trailed off. Rist nodded, showing his understanding.
Darien groaned as light of the late morning sun shone directly into his face, splitting his headache wide open.
“Are you well?” Rist asked, his cold voice sounding concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Darien assured him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s just my head. Ever since that wraith left me, it’s been getting worse and worse. It’ll go away though. I just need to get some rest.”
“You should see one of the doctors.” Rist said, clearly worried.
“I’m fine, Rist.” Darien said, more sharply than he intended. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Yesterday, well, that was my first time being in anything like—” Darien felt his voice catch as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. “Let’s just wait for the rest of them, okay? I just want some quiet for a while.”
Rist silently acquiesced and took his place across from Darien. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. Darien’s headache subsided a bit, but it was still very distracting. Eventually, Marenya, Chorrun, Evatra, and Oratrin walked into the council chambers, with the tall cyclops containing the consciousness of the wraith entering last. They were silent as they arrived, taking their seats around the table.
“I need to thank you all for the sacrifices you’ve made for our city,” Marenya began. “I thought it would be impossible to mount a defense, and we would surely have failed if not for each of you helping to prepare us. My greatest thanks go to you, sir… wraith, for your people’s assistance in our fight. Without your intervention, we would have surely lost the city.”
“I still think it’s an abomination to allow that thing into these chambers your majesty.” Oratrin protested.
“Enough. I’ve made myself clear.” Marenya said curtly.
Oratrin fell silent, but still glowering, his eyes fixed on the wraith’s new body, a hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“Now, we turn to what happens next. Scouts have been sent to the surrounding area to report on what they’ve seen, but they won’t be back for several days. Until then, what do we do?” Marenya asked the group in front of her.
They all sat in silence, Darien beginning to feel nauseous from the pain sinking deeper into his brain.
“The best course of action,” said Rist, “would be to find the other members of the Four and end this Cycle as quickly as possible.”
“I agree, Master Rist,” the Queen said, “but how do we do that?”
Silence fell over the table once more.
The Queen turned to look at Darien. “Do you have any thoughts, Master Darien?”
The pain in his head had grown too great. He let out a scream and then, slumping against the table in front of him, blacked out.
When he came to, Darien felt normal. The pain had mercifully vanished. Sitting up quickly, he looked around. He was in his own quarters, and a male troll in white robes was standing by his bed side.
“What happened?” Darien asked, confused.
“I think that best discussed between you and the doctors,” the troll said impassively. He spoke with someone beyond the door before returning and mixing some powder into a goblet, stirring vigorously.
“Who are you?” Darien asked.
“I’m the doctors assistant. Here, drink this.” The troll was insistent, shoving the goblet into Darien’s hands.
“It smells awful!” Darien recoiled.
“So my nephew said when I made it for him,” the troll said in an annoyed tone. “Now, drink.”
“What is it?”
“It is a tonic made from lora root. It will help prevent the headaches. Now, drink!”
Darien eyed the murky liquid and sipped. It was warm and tasted like metal, but the memory of the headache he had experienced outweighed his revulsion. Pinching his nose, Darien drained the goblet in one quick gulp and handed it back to the troll. There was a knock on the door.
“Ah, that’ll be the doctor,” said the troll, moving to open the door.
Another troll in white robes, taller and looking much older in his face, came into the room, followed by Rist, and then Evatra.
“Hi,” Darien said, embarrassed at the fact that he had passed out in front of everyone.
Rist nodded, and Evatra gave a concerned smile from behind the doctor.
“What happened?” Darien asked, hoping they could give him some answers.
“We believe this is a side effect of having been possessed by the wraith,” the doctor said, sitting on the edge of Darien’s bed. “Nothing like that has ever happened in any of the histories or medical records we have looked through over the last two days.”
“I’ve been asleep for two days?” Darien couldn’t believe it.
“Nothing we did could wake you up,” the doctor continued. “We’ve been talking with the wraiths, and they don’t know why this has happened, either. But it’s possible that it may happen again.”
“Again…?” Darien felt panic begin to rise up within him, “I don’t think I can take that again.”
“We can’t know for sure,” the doctor spoke slowly, “but we’ve guessed a lot, and the wraiths have been surprisingly helpful. The wraith didn’t completely possess you, so we think that your mind created a space for it to occupy, to shield you from its influence. It is likely that that part of you has gone… inactive, as a result. Had the wraith simply possessed you outright, as they have in the past with others, it could have subdued your entire consciousness. Leaving most of your mind active however, appears to have possibly caused some… damage.”
“So I’m stuck with this forever
?” Darien said, dread rising at the thought.
“We don’t know,” the doctor answered sympathetically. “But you cannot be possessed by a wraith again, if I’m right about this. It would almost certainly kill you.”
Darien fell silent as he tried to process everything.
“I’ll leave you alone,” the doctor rose. “If you need anything, my assistant will be just beyond the door. I’ve ordered food to be brought up for you. Start small, with bread or broth, and gradually work your way into heartier foods. You’ve been through a lot.”
With that, the white-robed troll left the room, leaving him alone with Rist and Evatra. Darien realized he wasn’t fully clothed, and so sat back against the headboard, pulling the blankets up around him.
“So, what’s happening? Any news on Cyprin? Or the other members of the Four?” Darien asked, trying to distract himself.
“No, there’s been no word,” Rist shook his head, the dark hood gently falling from side to side. “None of the scouts we’ve sent to any of the villages have returned, either. It’s possible Cyprin was able to intercept them, but that’s unlikely, given the sweeping victory we achieved. We should know more in a few days. That’s when the scouts are due back.”
“Okay, so then what now?” Darien asked.
“There are two ideas,” Evatra answered. “One is that the two of you begin your journey with a guard. That way, the Cycle can continue, and the weapons you need can be collected quickly. The other two can follow after you, whenever they arrive.”
“Okay, that’s one. What’s the other?” Darien asked.
A servant interrupted them, apologizing as she laid a tray of food on Darien’s lap. He eagerly grabbed at the bowl of broth before its heat stayed his hand. He took a spoon from the tray, and gently dipped it, stirring it to cool the sweet-smelling liquid.
“The second option is that we wait here,” Rist answered his question. “The others should arrive soon, and then we can begin the journey as intended. Though it is also suggested that we take a guard, as well, given the uncertainty of the times.”
“What do you think?” Darien asked. He raised a spoonful of the broth to his lips, blowing on it before sipping. The salty soup warmed his tongue and throat, erasing the metal taste of the tonic that had been lingering in his mouth.
“I favor the second option,” Rist said, watching as Darien swallowed another mouthful of broth. “We should wait here and allow you to recover. It will also give us better knowledge of your condition, and that will let us know what supplies to take.”
Darien scowled. He hated the idea of having a ‘condition.’ He had worked his whole life to discipline his body and mind. To lose control of his body because of damage done to his mind was a double blow.
“Do you agree?” Rist asked, somewhat insistently.
Darien nodded silently.
“That settles it, then,” said Rist. “Regain your strength; the city would do well to see you. Apparently, word of your prowess has spread, and it would bolster the spirits of the people here to see you among them.”
Darien made a non-committal noise, not particularly enjoying the idea that people were now looking up to him. The attention he had garnered back at The Academy was one thing, but to have the admiration of an entire city felt… unnatural.
Rist turned to leave, and Evatra stepped forward. She reached out and clasped Darien’s hand. The warmth of her skin was soft and comforting. He squeezed back, happier with her there. Without looking back, Rist closed the door softly behind him.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Evatra said softly.
“Yeah, you too,” Darien felt ridiculous.
You too? Is that all you can say? Get it together.
“Look, Darien…” Evatra’s face was lined with some unknown emotion.
“What is it?” Darien asked, smiling encouragingly.
“Darien, it’s about you. I mean me. I mean… us.” Evatra sighed. “I’m bad at this. Look, we never talked about what happened back at the caves.”
Darien looked back at her for several seconds. “Okay… what do you want to say about it?”
She looked at him seriously, clearly mulling something over in her mind. Unbeknownst to her, Darien had spent a good deal of time thinking about the kiss they had shared, and the feelings that were growing for her. On their ride back north from the caves, and then with the marauders in tow, Darien had thought about her, about Kara, about where this journey would take him, and whether he would ever see his friends again. Even if he made it home, it’s likely that Kara would have moved on, anyway. He had a long road ahead, and that would take time, certainly more time than remained in the school year, when Kara would leave, and Darien would take his place in The Academy.
“Listen, we’ve been through a lot together,” Darien squeezed her hand again. “I don’t know where I’m going to be two days or two months from now.”
She watched him speak, a reserved, cautious look coming onto her face.
“But I know I’d like to have you there,” he continued. “As far as ‘us’ goes, I’m not sure, either. But I know that I want to see more of you. If that’s okay?”
A smile lit up Evatra’s face as she squeezed his hand again.
“I’d like that, too.” She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips, her other hand resting gently on his cheek. Darien put his hand behind her head, holding her there for a few moments before she pulled away.
She then walked to the door, ordering him to rest and recover. He smiled and nodded as she closed the door, poking her head back in to see his face one more time, before disappearing into the hallway.
Darien sat for a few minutes, feeling a swirl of guilt over his relationship with Kara, before excitement of the possibilities with Evatra began to blossom. For now, none of that mattered. The only path back to Kara lay within the mountain to the east, and with the change in the Cycle, no one could know how long he would be in Olympus. It made sense for him to find happiness while he was here. It’s what Kara would have wanted for him, right?
Shaking off the unease, Darien set the tray of food to his side and fumbled with the blankets. Sliding down to the floor, he planted his feet and felt his legs immediately begin to shake. Darien leaned back against the bed and pulled himself back up.
Okay. Guess I’ll stay here, then.
Darien found himself to be incredibly tired all of a sudden, his body warm from the broth. Deciding that the thought of sleep was better than the clamor of emotions rattling around in his mind, he let exhaustion drag him into a slumber.
He awoke the next morning, the early light of the morning sun spilling into his room and tested his legs again. They were still shaky, but he was able to stand, this time. As he walked, the shakiness wore off, and he found himself able to move around comfortably. As Darien paced, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Darien called, and the white-robed doctor entered, excited to see Darien up and walking around.
“Good! Good! Now come here, I need to check a few things before I let you run around the castle,” the doctor said, setting his bag on the chair.
Darien allowed the doctor to poke and prod at him. He felt Darien’s joints and muscles and looked into his eyes and ears with an odd, angular device. The doctor told Darien he was free to walk as much as he wanted, but to be careful, since his stamina wouldn’t be what he was used to. Darien thanked the troll and dressed himself, deciding to strap on his sword. It had been chipped and damaged during the battle and he wanted to find someone who could repair it for him.
Darien spent the next two days wandering the city, like he had done in Taitron, when he first came into Olympus. He carefully considered everything he had experienced since coming to the strange world. Reliving the adventure he now found himself embroiled in made him shake his head in disbelief. So much had happened in two weeks, and there was more still to come.
This definitely wasn’t the dream that he first hoped it was.
&nb
sp; Darien was stopped several times in the streets by citizens wanting to thank him for defending their home. Eventually, he grew tired of the appreciation, and decided to lend a hand in the city’s reconstruction, thinking the trolls there would be too busy to talk to him. Before he had been able to lift a box of tools, the pain in his head had made a rapid crescendo, and he blacked out, only to find himself back in his room, tended to by the doctor once again.
Confining himself to the castle, realizing he hadn’t explored it much, he wandered its halls. It reminded him of The Academy, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the structure held similar ancient secrets somewhere. The afternoon of the fifth day following the battle, he found his way to one of the castle’s spires, overlooking the western walls.
Darien looked out over the new scenery. This wasn’t a view he had been able to take in since coming into the city, having focused all of his attention to the south and the east. Not far from the city sat a beautiful, pristine lake—Silver Lake, Darien remembered. The sun glistened off the water at just the right angle, giving it a silvery sheen as it rippled in the light breeze that flowed across the grass lands surrounding the city. Tall mountains stood in the distance, rising above the world around them, dull white snow lining their enormously high peaks.
He considered how his new ‘condition,’ as Rist had called it, would limit him in the future, head already aching at the thought. How could he be of any use if a headache could put him down without warning? Darien looked back as he heard the hatch behind him open. Rist climbed up the small ladder to join Darien in the keep.
“How did you find me?” Darien asked.
“I looked for the blank space,” Rist tapped his head with his long, black-gloved finger.
“Ah,” Darien remembered the strange sense the other possessed. “Still can’t feel me, then?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Rist shook his head. “I can feel you I just can’t feel what you’re feeling. It’s hard to explain.”