Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  Purposefully, Dax left Essie and strode forward through the thick snow, entering the fighting before he realised he was in it. But he could not swing his death-dealers in anger. He had no idea which of the fighting grey silhouettes surrounding him was Tanas. A warrior stepped close to Dax, and he grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and violently yanked him in close. Recognising the colours on the warrior’s cloak, Dax bellowed at the top of his voice, to stop the fighting.

  Tanas ducked down low, with his swords crossed in front of his chest, waiting for another attack.

  “Dax, is that you?” shouted the blind warrior over the storm.

  “Aye, it is I, Dax.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “These men are from the Silverswords clan. We must be close to their camp.” Turning to the clansman he held, Dax spoke in heavily accented Kharnack. “My name is Violet Storm, friend of Maldino. I travel with Kavlon, Maldino’s son.”

  “You say you travel with the son of Maldino. If so, where is he?” countered the Kharnack clansman.

  Dax turned and grimaced when he saw his tracks were already covered with fresh snow. “That’s a problem at the moment,” he said in broken Kharnack. He faced the blind warrior.

  “Tanas!” he called

  “Yes.”

  “I think you had better call your horse. My tracks have been covered.”

  Tanas put together his quarterstaff and called for his mare.

  ***

  The Ubert scouts ventured closer to the enormous gothic fortress. As they approached, the light seemed to dim, as though black storm clouds drifted in front of the sun, cloaking them in shadow. However, there were no clouds, only clear, pale blue sky. They watched the moat of sand in awe as it swirled around the fortress, and froze when they heard unearthly shrieks from inside. None of the sounds were human.

  ***

  Inside the fortress, the Dark One stood in a great windowless hall, with the Darklord and his three silver-armoured warriors waiting behind. Several thick pillars lined a central aisle. High on the pillars torches were ablaze, bathing the room in orange light. Black palpable shadows danced and leapt around the hall as the torch flames flickered behind discoloured glass. The Dark One turned to face his companions and inside his helm, he smiled. His red eyes blazed, shining through his helm’s chain-mail.

  “I’m back,” he began in a hoarse whisper. “Again, I stand in my fortress in the land of the mortals. I have come back to take what should be mine. The light will perish and our darkness will again rule these lands. I am the Dark One, servant of the Prince of Darkness, and I am the one to bring his rule, his anarchy, back to these lands. I am here and today my army will return. In time our army will conquer, kill, and pillage. We WILL rule these lands again. Hear me, Children of the Light—I AM BACK!” The Dark One’s booming voice shook the building to its foundations.

  “Within these walls my dark magic is strong and with my black crystal and my sword, I will triumph over all. My army will achieve great deeds: deeds that will be known for all eternity. My blade will cut a swathe through the light and dim Her brightness. I will dim Her magic until our darkness rules. My brethren, we must journey to slay the Children of the Light. None of them can survive my vengeance—none of them will. And as for him . . . he will return to my side or face my wrath. He will return or I will return him to Mount Moranton, where his soul will never be reached.

  “Now I must bring forth my pets, my army.”

  The Dark One raised his right arm, holding aloft the Blade of Yallas. Instantly, the room was plunged into thick darkness. He uttered ancient words of power that had not been uttered in a millennia. Within the darkness, a crack in space and time opened, rending and hissing as black magic filled the hall in an eerie red light. The power from the Blade of Yallas oozed into the air, charging it with dancing black sparks, and the temperature rose. The gateway between the realms opened wider and the hall was again plunged into darkness. Only the sword held by the Dark One shone, like a beacon in the darkness, a beacon summoning forward evil.

  “I am the Dark One, the Bringer of Death, the Master of Anarchy, and I will destroy all those who stand against me. I am the Dark One, wielder of the Blade of Yallas. I am the Dark One, sovereign of the Dread—the Army of Darkness. It is time for my army to come. Come my pets! COME TO YOUR MASTER!”

  The portal between the two realms widened and dark shapes ambled towards it with steam rising from the mass of dark bodies. Black smoke billowed from the portal, hugging the ground and climbing the sides of the hall. Creatures amassed on the other side of the gateway as the Dark One looked on, his eyes wide with excitement. The Blade of Yallas glowed brighter in his hand, the black crystal pulsating in the hilt. The portal filled a cross-section of the hall between two black pillars, the edges marked with licking red flames.

  “I am the bringer of death. I am the Bringer of Darkness. I am darkness, I am mayhem, I am the Master of Anarchy. I am destruction!” boomed the Dark One. “Pets, come to me and let us take this land once again. Let my dark times return!”

  ***

  Zane jerked up as if he had been stung and looked around the room, his eyes wide. Something troubled the young king—a feeling; a bad, ominous feeling of pending doom. Recognising his room only partially calmed his racing mind.

  ***

  Rowet visibly shivered in his study, yet all the windows and doors were closed and no draft wafted through the room. He too felt trepidation: something dreadful was coming. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it remained. His subconscious knew what was happening, but it would not come forward into his mind. The Chosen massaged the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Nothing came to him, nothing except an overriding feeling of anxiety.

  ***

  The first creatures to amble through the portal were the powerful Talon Hunters. They entered the hall, their eerie orange cat-like eyes glowing brightly. Each had the head of a serpent with a ridged cranium, but covered with tufts of fur instead of scales, and lipless maws narrowing to a point were armed with rows of sharp teeth. They had broad shoulders and powerful arms that swayed at their sides. Covered in thick black, matted fur, only the Talon Hunters’ torsos were bare, showing their powerful barrel chests. Standing on two stout legs, the smaller Hunters were around eight feet tall, the larger creatures reaching ten feet in height. The creatures ambled into the realm of the mortals four abreast and marched to the far side of the hall, for they knew their place in the army. They were the army’s fodder—the first into battle, the first killed. Thousands upon thousands of the creatures surged through, their howling filling the hall. They all bowed to the Dark One before exiting the hall, and waited outside in the dimmed sunshine. Outside, the creatures howled impatiently.

  ***

  “Anything wrong, Zane?” asked General Brooks, voicing his concern.

  Zane sat silently gazing at nothing. He had called General Brooks into his chambers, but had yet to explain the reason for the meeting. Zane looked at the older General and saw concern in his eyes.

  He smiled his crooked smile and replied, “I’m fine, my friend. It’s just . . . well, let’s say some strange things have happened to me lately.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Zane’s crooked smile broadened. “I have a story to tell you and I want you to keep an open mind until I’ve finished.”

  General Brooks closed his eyes, smiling a wry smile. “This reminds me of a discussion I had with your father here in this same room. He told me a saga that would change my life.”

  “I have one that may match his tale.”

  General Brooks reached forward for his tisane and sat back in his chair, making himself comfortable.

  “You know the saga about the Dark One and the relics?” asked Zane.

  “Aye, that was the story your father told me.”

  “Well as you know, we banished the threat from our city. However, I believe the saga has yet to be concluded. I had a
dream where I was told the Dark One has been resurrected and has returned to our lands. Let’s say it was more than a dream; more like a prophecy, a vision. I’ve seen the Dark One marching on our lands and he will be heading here to Teldor.” Zane paused. “And with him he brings his army of massive beasts.”

  General Brooks nearly dropped his drink. “Are you certain?” he asked, his voice almost breaking with fear.

  “Yes,” answered Zane softly.

  “But that’s impossible. You stopped the rite of resurrection here in the palace. You told me as much yourself.”

  “In that, we were wrong. It appears that was an elaborate ruse. The true rite has now, I believe, been completed, and the Dark One, with all his powerful dark necromancy, walks our lands. He is a powerful mage with an army that has the ability to destroy all in their path—literally all. We will need the combined efforts of our army together with the Phadrine, and maybe others, in order to defeat him. Even with such a force, the outcome will be difficult to predict. I’m not sure we can win even with all the available armies united against him.”

  “You say he will march here.”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been told he will march to try and destroy people who are called the Children of the Light.” Zane paused. “I am one of those children.”

  “Children of what? You’re a what?”

  “We, the Children of the Light, are protectors of the Divine One’s goodness and defend Her against all evil.”

  “What will we do?”

  “We need to make preparation, and quickly. We need to ensure the safety of my people.”

  The general smiled at his young king. “You have a plan. I can read it in your eyes, you rascal.”

  “Yes, I have a plan but we will need Admiral Rendel’s help for it to succeed.”

  The two men remained in the king’s chambers for many hours, going over Zane’s plan. General Brooks marvelled at its brilliant simplicity and his young king’s cunning.

  After several hours, General Brooks left, leaving Zane alone to think. Zane had kept many of the details of his dream from his general, as he thought appropriate. How he wished Dax were in Teldor; the young king could do with the old warrior’s counsel. His plan was sound but full of risks, many risks, and he would have to face them alone. Moreover, he would have to bear the consequences alone. For the first time, he did not have his friends around him when he needed their support. The young king had to rely on his own cunning and shrewdness. He smiled to himself, thinking, Dax would be proud of my plan.

  ***

  Next through the tear between the realms came the hideous, awesome Shadows. They emerged from the darkness of their realm into the gloom of their new home and streamed through the hall. Unlike the smaller beasts summoned in Teldor by the Darklord, these creatures were massive. At least ten feet tall, each carried either huge double-ended, double-headed battle-axes or colossal broadswords. The beasts had scales on elongated heads, resembling wolves, with orange or yellow cat-like eyes, and the bodies of huge, powerful men.

  These creatures had an exoskeleton protecting their backs, torso, arms, and legs with living armour. The rigid bones forming the exoskeleton were dense, able to withstand a blow from most men, wielding the sharpest weapons. Totally black, the creatures blended perfectly into the darkness, able to hide in shadows. Belying their size, they were swift and moved with great stealth; thus with their ebony colouring, night attacks were their speciality.

  When they passed the Dark One these creatures hissed out of respect, then stalked from the great hall along winding corridors to the courtyard. Thousands upon thousands of the beasts marched through the portal, following the Talon Hunters outside into the realm of mortals, waiting, their exoskeletons shimmering in the gloomy sunlight.

  ***

  The Chosen broke every protocol, his instincts as a father overcoming the etiquette of being an emperor. He stood on the steps of the white palace in Kal-Pharina, dressed in white leather leggings, flanked by his personal guards. It was a perfect day. The sun hung high in blue skies with a light, cooling breeze, and his daughters were arriving back to their home. When the carriage pulled up to the base of the steps he smiled, rocking impatiently on his heels.

  Ireen and Megan stepped out of the carriage. He could not hold himself back. With a single tear of joy rolling down his cheek he ran down the white marble steps, taking them two at a time. His men were caught off guard but tried to keep up with their emperor. Reaching the bottom step, Rowet paused. His smile broadened as he gazed at his daughter, his heir. He slowly opened his arms and his daughter rushed into his jubilant embrace.

  “Welcome home, my child,” he whispered as more tears rolled down his face. “Your mother says hello.”

  Ireen pulled back from the embrace to look at her father, a question in her eyes.

  “I will tell you later,” he said softly.

  Rowet looked over Ireen’s head. He saw the fair-haired Megan and smiled. He held out his right arm to the Rhaurn woman. “Come here, child.”

  Megan moved into the family embrace.

  For a long moment, Rowet enjoyed the closeness of his family, then finally stepped back. “It is good to see you two again. I had no doubt I would see you here at your home.”

  “It’s good to be home, Father,” Ireen said, smiling broadly.

  “Gordy!” called Rowet.

  In response, the wily old warlord stepped down from the carriage, limped towards his emperor, stopped, and bowed deeply.

  “It is good to see you, your Highness.”

  “Enough of that,” replied the Chosen, stepping away from his daughters and embracing his friend.

  Gordonia realised this was in breach of every protocol, but could not help returning the embrace, and hugged his friend.

  “Thank you,” whispered the Chosen into his friend’s ear.

  “I made a promise and your children are here,” replied the general proudly.

  ***

  The family enjoyed a wonderful supper in the Chosen’s private rooms, exchanging news and stories—mostly the two girls telling their father about their adventures in Teldor. Rowet was shocked to hear they had been in such danger, but pleased to hear about the exploits of Zane, Dax, and the others. The girls spoke fondly of the King of Rhaurien and his friends, especially Thade and Tanas. They told of their escape with Zane’s mother; the Shadows; the retaking of the city; and of ultimately defeating the Darklord in the palace, stopping the rite of resurrection. They talked of Zane’s wedding plans and Rowet’s invitation to the ceremony.

  The sun had nearly set when the girls finished their stories, and feeling tired from their journey, they left Rowet alone with his old friend.

  “Thank you for bringing my children home, Gordy,” said Rowet suddenly, watching the rosy sunset through the large windows in his room.

  “Like I said, I made a promise. But I must tell you it was more the doing of Thade, Dax, and the others. I just waited outside the city for the gates to open.”

  “But you brought my children home,” answered Rowet softly. He was still staring out of the large window.

  “Why so sombre?”

  “It’s not over, Gordy.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not over? We defeated the Darklord in Teldor, his threat has been stopped.” The general’s expression filled with foreboding as he looked at Rowet.

  “I do not think so. I have a tale to tell you and I hope you will believe it.”

  “With everything we’ve been through, I now have an open mind,” commented Gordonia, only half-joking.

  “Good,” said Rowet. The emperor turned and settled himself into his deeply cushioned sofa. “I hope you do not think I’m going insane, but a few nights ago, I met my wife again, and Gammel.”

  An anxious expression washed over General Gordonia’s face and he could not help shift his weight nervously in his chair.

  “For now, I will not share al
l the details, but will say that we still face a threat from the Darklord and moreover, his master, a being called the Dark One, and his army. We need to prepare for a war to beat all wars and face the Dark One’s army—the Dread. I have seen an image of them and they are evil, hideous creatures that I still cannot find words to describe.”

  At that point, a soft rap on the door broke the conversation.

  “Come in,” called Rowet.

  The door opened and in walked Master Armourer Platos. Seeing the general sitting opposite the Chosen, Platos bowed. “Your Highness, you summoned me.”

  Rowet smiled. “Platos, there’s no need to be formal. This is General Gordonia, Gordy to you and me. We will be working close together so we will keep these meetings informal.” The two men shook hands and Platos took a seat next to the general, placing several scrolls on the floor next to him.

  “I am sorry for not coming to see you, but my children just arrived home. Anyway, I was just telling the general here the type of creatures we will be facing. I hope you can produce weapons that will aid our plight.”

  The large master armourer leaned forward with a wry smile on his face. “Did you think I would fail you?”

  Rowet just smiled at his response.

  “I’ve created some designs and have tried out a couple of possibilities. As I see it, the challenge we have is to create weapons that are capable of penetrating massive wooden structures. However, I am failing somewhat in producing weaponry that can be easily reloaded and or fired repeatedly. From what you described to me, we will need weapons that can do both.”

  “You’re right, my friend. Can we see your designs? Gordy here may be able to assist you with some ideas.”

  Platos unrolled the first scroll. The three men poured over the designs, rejecting some and laughing over others. By the end of the evening, they had chosen two designs to be investigated further and decided that Gordy and Rowet would visit Platos’s forge to see demonstrations of the new weapons two days later.