Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  “She has no say in the matter!” snapped Rayth.

  Zane grinned again and shook his head. Both men knew he had lied.

  “You listen to me. You come back to us, or she will . . . ” Rayth left the sentence unfinished.

  “I know, Rayth. I’ll meet you at Thade’s home.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll be at your tavern later,” said Zane, rising. He added, “Father,” and smiled his crooked smile.

  “Do not ‘Father’ me yet, boy,” snapped Rayth. “You take care of yourself. We will still have a wedding to prepare,” he finished softly.

  “I will, and it will be the finest celebration ever.”

  The two men stood and embraced. Rayth left and again the worries about his plans started to gnaw at the young king. He returned to his desk and started making notes on a fresh parchment.

  ***

  Dragging his mind back to the present, injured and exhausted, Zane rode his tiring horse northeast to meet up with his family. The rain stopped when he reached the set meeting point for his army. Of the several thousand horsemen who had faced the Dread, he could see only a few hundred were in the camp. Zane’s side burned like it was on fire, but he pulled his cloak around himself, so the wound would not show. He dismounted with a grunt, nearly crumpling into a heap. He prayed for enough strength to walk through the temporary camp to talk to his men. Healers rushed around, tending to the wounded. One healer accidentally bumped into Zane’s side and he grunted in pain.

  “Sire, are you injured?” asked the healer with concerned eyes.

  “Not badly. See to the men first.”

  Then it struck the young king. He grabbed the nearest heavy cavalryman. “Have you seen General Brooks?”

  “No, sire,” answered the soldier with red-stained bandages wrapped around his head.

  Zane started to worry and searched the camp, looking for his friend. He could not help himself. “Brooks!” he called.

  A Royal Lancer approached the distraught king and bowed. “Sire, please follow me.”

  The Royal Lancer led Zane to a tent where a group of seriously injured men were being treated by healers. The Royal Lancer pointed to a man receiving treatment. There was no need for the soldier to say anything. Zane instantly recognised the injured warrior’s helm. It was the helm of his general, General Brooks. Zane staggered forward, his eyes misting when he saw blood—lots of blood. The tired healer working on the general glanced up, and gently shook his head. A heavy cavalryman stepped forward and reported to his king.

  “Sire, I’m sorry to report that General Brooks was wounded defending you. I saw everything. General Brooks lost his sword; it got stuck in a foe and ripped from his hand. It seemed a warrior in silver armour was aiming for you and the general steered his horse in front of yours to protect you . . . He took the blow. He stayed on his horse and I guided him out of the fighting. He rode here and initially refused treatment, but I forced the healer to work on him.”

  “Thank you,” Zane said softly to the cavalryman. He placed a hand on and squeezed the man’s shoulder while the soldier looked down at the ground, unable to maintain eye contact. Zane could see the man was disturbed that his general lay before them, badly injured.

  The healer rose and stepped in close to Zane, keeping his voice low and evenly measured. “I’m sorry, my liege, I have done everything I can. The blade cut through most of his insides. I can do no more. To tell the truth, he should be dead already.”

  “Thank you for trying. He’s waiting for his king to release him.”

  With a stifled groan, Zane knelt down beside his general and lifted the man’s head into his lap. Brooks opened his eyes and he smiled weakly at Zane. Blood oozed from the corner of the dying man’s mouth.

  “Did it work?” asked Brooks, his voice ragged. Zane reached for a canteen of water and poured some of the cool liquid on his general’s lips.

  “What’s this recklessness I’m hearing about? You charging the enemy without a blade?” asked Zane, forcing a smile, but it was strained—very strained.

  “My duty is to protect my king and you’re the best of all the kings.”

  Zane’s eyes misted further and tears tumbled down his cheeks.

  “I’ve been proud to have served you, Zane. Proud to have watched you grow into the man you have become.”

  “You have many years to come, to help me, and watch my children grow.”

  “I do not think so,” answered Brooks, his weak laughter racking his body; his breathing no more than ragged gasps. “I hope . . . I hope I have served you well, my king.”

  “You’ve been the best.” The next sentence was the hardest sentence Zane had ever had to say. He did not want to lose his friend, and mentor. He looked up at a cavalryman and silently mouthed, ‘sword please’. The Rhaurn stepped forward and handed Zane his sword, hilt first, then stepped out of earshot. Zane placed the weapon into Brooks’s hands.

  Brooks grabbed the leather handle, holding Zane’s hand on the hilt.

  Tears streamed down Zane’s dirty face. “You have been the best of men and the best of friends. It is now time for you to rest; your duty is done. Our plan worked and it’s time . . . time for you to rest, my friend,” he said softly.

  General Brooks, Warlord of the Rhaurien, smiled at his king—then he was gone. Zane took a sudden gasp from emotional pain. He leaned forward, cradling his friend’s head, and rocked back and forth.

  The sobs from the young king echoed throughout the camp.

  CHAPTER 15

  Dax, Thade, and Tanas pushed their horses hard, making their way towards home to find Cara. All around them lay death and slaughter. The men had been in the siege of Ubert where many men lost their lives. This meaningless slaughter appalled the warriors. They passed through several more small villages; all were razed to the ground. There was nothing left, no birds sang in the sky; no animals moved in the undergrowth or in the fields. The men noticed that the main body of the army headed directly southwest, towards Teldor. However, tracks from smaller groups of creatures headed in all directions—probably hunting parties.

  Dax dismounted and looked at some of the tracks. In the churned soil, he spotted a horse’s hoof mark. “These horses must be huge,” stated the older warrior, placing his hand next to the hoof print.

  Thade dismounted and led his horse next to the hoof mark in the mud. His horse’s hoof print was only half the size of the one in the mud. Thade looked at Dax, who said nothing. Thade’s horse was not the smallest in the Kingdom; in fact it was larger than the average breed, so the horse that left the print must have been massive.

  The three warriors continued on their journey through the rolling hills, searching for any movement, and more importantly, any sounds.

  Dusk descended on the three as they drew closer to Thade’s home. Fears rose when they spotted many clawed tracks heading towards their destination.

  The darkness of night engulfed the land as the three warriors reached the village near their home. They paused, peering through the gloom at the buildings.

  Dax’s impatience got the better of him and he urged his horse forward towards the settlement. Thade was about to call Dax back when Tanas urged his mount past. Thade cursed silently and joined his friends as they moved slowly towards the buildings.

  They saw that the village had already been attacked, but unlike the other villages they had passed, this one had not been razed to the ground.

  Dax walked his horse slowly into the village, then stopped. He dismounted and looked about at the tracks. He looked up and studied the buildings. One or two of the homes had been burnt, and were still smouldering. Strangely, he could not find any claws marks anywhere. He slowly looked around and stared at Thade.

  “This is not the aftermath of the Dark One’s beasts. I think this was a slavers’ raid.”

  “Which way did they head?” asked Thade.

  Dax did not answer, but vaulted onto his horse and urged it towards home—following the
tracks.

  “Did he say slavers?” asked Tanas.

  “Yes, and I think they headed towards home,” answered Thade, his voice unable to cloak his increasing worry.

  ***

  Just before dusk, the three warriors dismounted and crept through the undergrowth on a hill overlooking the house. Dax peered through the gloom but could not see much. Then by the front door, a man lit a pipe. Dax smiled; he had not seen the man but now he knew the house was being guarded. He was about to rise when Tanas gripped the older warrior’s shoulder. Dax turned to look at the blind warrior, who put his finger to his lips for silence. Tanas disappeared into the undergrowth. Moments later, there were two muffled thuds and he returned.

  “We can now move on,” advised Tanas.

  “More guards?”

  “Yes, they will wake with sore heads, but we have plenty of time,” answered Tanas with a wry smile.

  The trio made their way down to the house and crept around the building, noting where other men were situated. Men were hidden in the undergrowth around the buildings. They reached the back of the house and spotted two men guarding the back door. Dax reached forward and squeezed Tanas’s shoulder. Leaning in close, the old man whispered, “There are two guards by the backdoor. Can you deal with them silently?”

  Tanas did not say anything, but turned to Dax and smiled.

  “Hoot when it is done.”

  Tanas took off. Dax saw the man’s brown coat for a few heartbeats, then he merged into the night. Dax was not the most patient man in the Kingdom and Thade could sense him getting edgy.

  “He will deal with them,” whispered Thade, trying to calm Dax. Thade knew it was taking much for the older warrior not to go charging towards the door, roaring at the top of his voice, with his death-dealers swinging—Dax style.

  From the doorway came an owl’s hoot. It was the signal for the other two to creep forward. Slumped by the door were the bodies of the two guards. There was no blood. Tanas had not drawn his blades, instead using his quarterstaff to knock the two men unconscious. They would wake with very sore heads.

  Dax pushed the creaky backdoor open slowly and entered the kitchen.

  The kitchen smelled of a freshly made rich stew and this confused the old warrior. He heard laughter from the living room. The door to the living room opened and the corridor connecting the two rooms was bathed in light. A large man left the living room and strolled towards the kitchen. Dax stood behind the kitchen door, whilst Thade and Tanas ducked below the dining table.

  The man entered the kitchen. When he pushed the door open, Dax grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around, and cracked a right hook against the man’s chin. The large man staggered back, but did not fall. He, in return, threw a right jab that caught Dax on the cheek. To give the others in the house warning, the large man screamed his battle cry and dived at Dax.

  All hell broke loose.

  The large man tightened his grip around Dax’s neck, lifting the shorter man off the ground. Dax tried to speak, but choked on his words. His assailant’s large callused hands tightened around his neck. The backdoor opened. Thade and Tanas turned with fists flying, and fought the men who arrived from outside. It was too crowded and as no lanterns were lit in the kitchen, it would be dangerous for the warriors to draw their blades.

  The man tightened his grip on Dax’s throat and the old warrior reached down to pull out one of his daggers.

  Thade shouted at Tanas, “DUCK!”

  The blind warrior crouched down and Thade punched a man, sending him sprawling out the backdoor.

  From the corridor, came a call in a woman’s voice, “Thade, is that you?”

  Thade stopped and received a punch on his chin for his trouble. “Cara?” he yelled, rolling over the table.

  Cara rushed into her kitchen, barged open the door, and screamed, “STOP!”

  Her strong feminine voice cut through the noise of fighting and the men instantly stopped. Lifting her lantern, the kitchen was bathed in an orange glow.

  “Dax, you old dog,” said Rayth, releasing his grip on the warrior’s throat.

  “Rayth?” asked Dax hoarsely, rubbing his throat.

  “Yes, it’s me,” replied the former axe-wielder joyfully.

  “Good,” said Dax and he cracked Rayth’s chin with a mighty upper cut. “That makes us even, you old mule.”

  Rayth stood motionless for a moment, rubbing his chin, and slowly a wry smile grew on his face.

  Cara rushed past the old friends and knelt down next to Thade. Gently, she touched the man’s face and smiled.

  “Good to see you, Cara,” he said softly, rising to his feet with the plump woman’s aid.

  Tears threatened to flow as she stepped into a long embrace.

  “What the hell is going on?” asked Tanas.

  Rayth answered. “I’m here with Queen Larene, Princess Sasha, and my daughter, Aurillia. Zane sent us here. He said this would be a safe place to wait for him.”

  “And the men outside?” asked Thade.

  “Axe-wielders and Royal Lancers are here to protect Zane’s family. We decided it would be better for them not to wear their uniforms. We did not want it made known that her Highness was here.”

  “Did you know that the village yonder has been attacked by slavers?” asked Dax.

  “Aye, that happened before we arrived. The safety of the queen is of paramount importance here,” explained Rayth solemnly, “so unfortunately, we could not go after them.”

  Dax nodded.

  “Where the hell have you men been?” asked Rayth.

  “That’s a long story, but we have a caravan of women and children riding here through Single Tooth Gorge. I would appreciate it if you could send some men out to escort them in. Especially, if there are slavers in the area.”

  “Captain Urkin!” called Rayth.

  “Yes sir,” answered a man standing by the backdoor with his sword drawn.

  “Can you send out a few men to find a caravan of women and children heading this way? Escort them here safely.”

  “Yes sir,” acknowledged the captain, and he left the building to issue his commands.

  “Now, come sit down. After all, this is your home,” said Rayth, putting his arm around Dax’s shoulder.

  ***

  Dax, Tanas, and Thade washed and joined the others in the living room. As the groups had met before, the conversation was light later in the kitchen. Rayth explained Zane’s plan for Teldor and Dax smiled when he finished.

  “He made that up himself?” asked the older warrior proudly.

  “Yes, it was all his idea. The only dangerous part of the plan was the charge into the enemy’s ranks. Everything else was planned precisely—the only unknown was the charge.”

  “Well, that’s why Zane led the charge.”

  “You cannot fault the boy for his bravery.”

  “Aye,” said Dax thoughtfully.

  ***

  Three days after the friends arrived, the women and children, with Gan-Goran, reached Thade’s home safely and stayed in nearby houses.

  ***

  The Dark One rode with the Caynians straight to the palace. The whole city was empty; not a living person remained. The Talon Hunters and Shadows searched the city for something, anything to feast on—but there was nothing. The creatures howled and hissed in rage, realising they had been tricked.

  The Dark One entered the palace and walked straight to the throne room. Using the Blade of Yallas, he thrust the sword between the doors. Summoning a spell, he uttered a word of power and the doors ignited in fierce red flames. Within seconds the flames died, leaving only the charred remains. Wrenching his blade free, the Dark One kicked the glowing embers of the door. The black-armoured warrior stalked into the room and sat on the throne, his mood sinister, his yearning for blood high.

  Following the Dark One into the throne room walked Malice, Fury, Chaos, and the Darklord, all waiting for their master to issue his command. The Dark One sat in silence,
listening to his creatures howl and hiss outside.

  “They have done well, these mortals,” hissed the Dark One without derision.

  “You sound pleased, my lord,” commented Malice.

  “I must admit I did not want this to be too easy. But to be tricked like this is devious. It reeks of Her meddling.” What could only be called a chuckle emanated from within the Dark One’s helm. But the sound was twisted, lacking any humour. “I congratulate the mortals for their planning. But this will not stop my vengeance.” He paused for a moment. “There are two Children of the Light in the white city on the other side of the scorched lands. There are a few more this side of the crystal mountains, but they are being shielded. I have cut one of the children and his soul will soon be ours. The others will fall shortly. Then She will be mine.”

  The Dark One paused for a moment. “It is all as I have seen. The futures on the Paths of Time all lead to the white city. It will finish there. Malice, prepare my army to march. We will head to the white city and destroy the mortals there. Then we will return to Rhamagabora and I will unleash my wrath.”

  “As you command, my master,” said Malice, bowing and leaving the throne room with Fury and Chaos in tow.

  The Dark One looked at the Darklord. “Naats, I think your brother has a hand in cloaking the Children of the Light.”

  “His magic is still strong, my master. He uses the magic of the land, Her magic.”

  “I sense you still want to face him.”

  “In good time, master. He will come to me.”

  “Yes, he will. Wherever he is cloaking the Children of the Light, he is also cloaking himself - and the other.”

  “I have sense he is hiding, my lord.”

  “No matter, the traitor will also come to me. And when he does, he will either kneel before me or die.”

  “Just as you have seen on the Paths of Times, my lord?”

  “Yes, just as I have seen,” echoed the Dark One.

  ***

  After the Ubert women and children were housed, Aurillia stood outside the front door, gazing into the night.

  Rayth walked out and wrapped a blanket tightly around his daughter’s shoulders. “You’ll catch your death standing out here,” he said softly.