Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  Dax charged the gladiator, his death-dealers a murderous flurry of cuts and chops. For the first time, the gladiator backed away from the older warrior, and the former Gladiator Prime of the Phadrine arenas attacked with controlled fury. Normally, gladiators were taught to fight without anger or rage, for that hindered them. Dax was the exception. He was the one man who had broken every rule, using anger and rage which only heightened his gladiatorial prowess.

  In the arena, Dax would step onto the sand and within seconds his opponent would be dead, no mercy or compassion. But here, someone or something tried to hinder him. Dax hacked and sliced with his death-dealers and breached the gladiator’s defences twice, slashing the man on the shoulder and gashing him across the chest. Dax roared and attacked again. Clang! His axe struck the man’s helm. Clang! He struck metal again and this time the man’s helm flew clear. Dax stepped back, staring into stormy-grey eyes that faced him.

  It was the image of Thade. Dax stepped back further.

  The Thade image charged forward and used both of his short swords to probe and prod at Dax. Dax received two shallow cuts, one on his torso and the other on the arm. The gladiator stepped in close and hacked down onto Dax with both short swords. Dax crossed his axes above his head and blocked the blow. The gladiator continued to press down, using his height to his advantage. Dax grimaced. He was being forced down.

  The older warrior started to chuckle. “You were taught by the best, boy, and now I know it’s not you.”

  Roaring, Dax pushed the Thade image up, forcing him backwards. As fast as lightning, Dax swung his left hand backwards, catching the gladiator across the throat. Using his momentum, Dax followed through with his right hand. The axe blade decapitated the gladiator. The body crumpled into a heap while the head bounced once, then rolled into the darkness. Dax raised his axes and roared in victory.

  The weeping and crying stopped. Dax stood in silence with his death-dealers at his sides, dripping with blood. Where the body lay, a bright light pierced the centre and grew outwards, getting brighter and brighter. An image appeared behind Dax and he slowly turned, sensing the presence. When the woman spoke softly to him, he dropped his axes.

  “Dax, I love you always. Step into the light and go home. You should not be here, here is for the dead, not the living.”

  “I want to be with you,” said Dax, stepping forward away from the light towards his beloved wife.

  “Your time is not yet, my love. When your time comes, I will be waiting for you. Go now.”

  Tears flowed down the old warrior’s scarred, stubbly cheeks. “I love you, Nita.”

  “That I know, but it’s time for you to go. Go now, my love,” said Dax’s wife as she started to fade.

  Dax turned and wiped his eyes. A voice echoed in his mind. ‘I love you, Dax.’ He paused, muttered something under his breath, then with a smile entered the light.

  ***

  Zane continued to battle against the Kharnack chieftain. He had been slashed several times, but not too deeply. The sounds of Aurillia’s pleading still echoed all around him. Zane ducked below another arching slash, the Kharnack’s sword only slicing through air. The young king could not react quickly, his limbs felt laden with fear. Constantly, Zane parried and blocked the onslaught from the Kharnack warrior. When he slipped, the Kharnack hacked down but his tulwar only clanged loudly against the ground. Zane just managed to roll away and slowly climbed to his feet—like a defeated man.

  His father’s voice entered his mind, whispering at first, then louder and clearer.

  “Fight my son—it is not what it seems. FIGHT!”

  “I cannot!” said Zane, his voice a shriek.

  “If you don’t fight, you will fail,” replied the voice of Logan, tinted with disappointment. Zane staggered to his left, his eyes staring at his opponent.

  “FIGHT, BOY!” screamed his father’s voice, like thunder in his head, causing Zane to reel. “Aurillia is in danger, son, but not here. She needs you in the realm of the living. FIGHT!”

  Zane did not need telling twice. He looked at the Kharnack warrior with a new glint in his stormy-grey eyes. Instantly, the sound of Aurillia’s pleading stopped. For the first time during the contest, Zane took the attack to the Kharnack. Zane sliced high and low with his two short swords. In this first attack, the young Rhaurn King cut the Kharnack on the right arm and left thigh.

  The Kharnack chieftain bellowed a battle cry and charged Zane. Zane defended himself against the man’s fury, but now he remained cool and calm; he did not let his anger or fear get the better of him. Zane dropped to the floor, but he was not falling. He spun low, swiping the Kharnack’s legs from underneath him. The Kharnack came up quickly, but Zane was upon him instantly.

  Zane sliced out with his left hand. Blood sprayed from a cut on the Kharnack’s torso. Spinning round, Zane reversed the sword in his right hand to hold it like a dagger. Aiming high, he buried his short sword into the Kharnack’s eye socket with such force that it exploded out the back of the man’s head, releasing a spew of crimson, gobs of grey matter, and shards of white bone. Zane held the sword there for a heartbeat, then wrenched the blade free. The body crumpled to the ground.

  The Kharnack’s body started to glow, getting brighter and brighter. The voice of his father entered Zane’s mind, this time soft and full of pride.

  “Well done, my son. I am, and will always, be proud of you. Now enter the light and you will return home. The light is your soul in its pure beautiful form. Now go home, your Aurillia needs you.”

  “Thank you, Father—I love you,” said Zane aloud.

  “And I love you always, my son.”

  Zane bowed his head and stepped into the light.

  ***

  The image of Aurillia, Rayth’s wife, shackled, appeared behind Alan D’Asher. Rayth’s eyes widened and for the briefest moment he hesitated. Then with a bellowing roar, he attacked the general. He arced a murderous chop. The general blocked the blow and instantly aimed a quick thrust, slashing at Rayth’s gut. Rayth swayed, then raised and slammed his elbow into the general’s helm. Rayth swung his battle-axe horizontally. It clanged against the general’s breastplate, denting the metal.

  Rayth did not stop attacking. He hacked and chopped at the general, who desperately defended himself. Rayth’s battle-axe repeatedly hacked at the general’s helm, finally dislodging it with a loud clang. The gleaming helm flew off, disappearing into the darkness. Rayth kicked out and struck the general’s right knee. The general fell onto his other knee. Using the weight of his battle-axe hilt, Rayth punched the general on the jaw. The general was sent sprawling across the ground, spilling his battle-axe. Rayth raised his own axe above his head, ready to deliver the killing stroke.

  “Stop!” cried Rayth’s wife. Rayth turned and looked at his wife, who was now not shackled. “Please Rayth, think. This is your test.”

  “What’s my test?” asked Rayth.

  “He is a Rhaurn and your greatest hero . . . ”

  “But he had you as his prisoner,” interrupted the innkeeper, confused.

  “Yet I’m free, my love.”

  Rayth peered down at his hero and slowly lowered his axe. Holding down his axe, he held Alan D’Asher’s pale blue gaze. The general reached up and grabbed the shaft of Rayth’s axe. Rayth pulled, helping the warrior to his feet.

  General Alan D’Asher smiled with genuine warmth. “It is you. I have followed your career closely, son, and you make me proud to have led the axe-wielders. You are a man to walk the Path with.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Rayth, turning to his wife, confused.

  “You should, my love. They put you against your greatest hero. If you had killed him, you would have failed and suffered an eternity of pure torment.”

  “Where’s my soul?” asked Rayth, stepping in close to his wife. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m your soul, for I am your soulmate.” A tear rolled down Rayth’s face and he pulled his wife into a cl
ose embrace. “I will always be with you, Rayth. Now, it’s time for you to go. Your friends need you and Aurillia is in danger.”

  Rayth eased himself from his wife, his eyes ablaze with menacing purpose.

  “Now, that’s the Rayth I know,” said his wife. “It’s time for you to go. Goodbye, my love. Remember, I’m waiting for you.”

  Rayth turned to face the general, but he had disappeared. Frowning, he turned back to his wife. Her image had been replaced by a bright white light, which bathed the innkeeper’s face and chest. Sadness touched Rayth and his head dropped.

  Alan D’Asher’s voice urged him to step into the light. “Rayth, your child needs you.”

  Rayth stood straight and proud, then stepped purposefully into the light.

  ***

  The Dax image gave Thade problems. He constantly blocked and parried the attacking warrior, his murderous axes—the death-dealers—getting closer and closer. Thade was battered to the ground by a series of chops and hacks that he just managed to block. The Dax image struck down with a killing blow, but Thade just managed to roll clear. Again, sparks leapt into the air where the short battle-axe blade struck the ground. Thade quickly rose to his feet, taking up his stance. The Dax image approached him, his violet eyes blazing. Dax’s voice suddenly boomed in Thade’s mind. “Boy, don’t give in to your fears. Be done with that thing and come home.”

  Thade smiled and blocked another hack from the Dax image. Now he realised this was not Dax, not his mentor.

  “You’re not Dax!” hissed Thade coldly. “Only Dax could defeat me in the arena, and you are not he.” A new spark glinted in his stormy-grey eyes.

  Thade drew in a deep breath and took up his gladiator stance with his legs slightly apart, his body twisted at the waist. His whole body was primed, his whole body a weapon. He readied himself. The Dax image attacked in a flurry of cuts and swipes. Each thrust or hack met steel with a loud clang. Thade calmly blocked each and every blow.

  Thade sent out a deadly thrust which was only just blocked by the Dax image. But Thade’s blade cut the warrior’s cheek. The Dax image stepped back, seemingly unsure. Thade stepped forward and continued his assault. He clanged his right hand sword against the Dax image’s left axe. Slicing low, Thade’s right hand blade slashed the warrior’s leg. The Dax image stepped back again. Thade also stepped back and stretched his back.

  “There’s no fear. So bring it on, boy,” said Thade, imitating Dax’s deep voice. He strolled forward, replicating the Dax ‘Swagger’. Suddenly, he leapt forward and took the fight to the Dax image. He carefully looked for an opening and dropped his left shoulder. The Dax image swiped with his axes horizontally but hit nothing. Thade dived over the warrior’s right axe blade, reversed his sword, and stabbed the image in the back between his shoulders. Wrenching his sword clear, Thade spun to face his opponent and saw shock in his face.

  Thade stabbed out with both blades, plunging them deep into the man’s chest. Thade let go of his swords, leaving the hilts wagging in the air. The Dax image dropped both of his axes and peered down at the blades in his chest. Thade grabbed both of his swords. With pure rage and a roar of defiance, he kicked the Dax image in the torso, releasing his blades and sending the warrior sprawling into the darkness.

  “That’s my boy,” came the voice of Dax in Thade’s mind. “I’m proud of you.”

  Thade looked down at Dax’s short battle-axes, crossed at the haft. They started to glow. The white light from the axes grew brighter, causing Thade to shield his eyes. Dax’s voice sounded again. “Come, boy, step into the light and come home.”

  Thade took a deep breath and stepped into the light.

  ***

  Tanas had his head bowed and waited for the warrior to attack him. He smiled to himself. The silver-armoured warrior leapt forward and attacked Tanas in a blur. Tanas calmly stood his ground, defending against the vicious onslaught. The clashing of blades sounded like one continuous ring as the two men moved at incredible speed. The silver-clad warrior sent out a deadly slice towards Tanas’s neck with his left sword. Tanas swayed to the right, parried the slice, and rolled his body so that his back touched the warrior’s chest.

  Using his spinning momentum, Tanas raised his elbow and slammed it into the man’s helm, snapping the chinstrap. Before the helm clattered onto the floor, Tanas continued his spin and sliced backhanded with his left sword towards the man’s neck. The silver-armoured warrior, surprised by the move, just managed to duck under the decapitating swipe. But the blade did slice through the man’s flailing white ponytail.

  The silver-armoured warrior chuckled as he stepped back, his eyes blazing red like the fires of Hell. The warrior leapt forward. The opponents clashed again, their swords hacking and slicing, but neither man broke through the other’s defence. The two men stepped back and circled each other. Tanas had his head bowed in concentration. In front of him, the warrior smiled and swiftly leapt forward, thrusting out with one sword, aiming for Tanas’s throat.

  Tanas blocked the thrust and sent out another deadly riposte. The silver-armoured warrior blocked Tanas’s stab aimed at his eye, rolled his wrist, and thrust low for Tanas’s groin. Tanas jumped back and lashed out, cutting his opponent’s face. The warrior paused, his eyes wide in shock. Dark blood trickled down the warrior’s face, plopping onto his breastplate.

  The silver-clad warrior growled like a beast and charged at Tanas. He hacked at Tanas’s head. Tanas stepped in close, ducking slightly. Wrong direction, but the move saved the blind warrior. The side of the sword blade slapped against Tanas’s temple, sending him sprawling. Tanas rose quickly, but his legs felt unsteady. The warrior leapt in for the kill. Tanas tried to defend himself against the murderous assault. The blind warrior was a heartbeat too slow. The silver-clad warrior cannoned into Tanas’s chest, sending him flying, landing at the edge of the circle of light.

  The silver-clad warrior stood, raised his swords above his head in triumph, and roared victoriously as blood dripped from the wound on his face. Using his sword, he lifted Tanas’s chin and stared at his face. Suddenly, with the flat of the blade, he slapped Tanas, sending him sprawling into the darkness.

  Tanas’s world spun as cruel laughter grew louder and louder.

  From the darkness, a voice, a mere whisper like a dream just out of reach of consciousness, called his name.

  CHAPTER 23

  Gan-Goran could hear death screams wafting on the cool air from the main house. He cast a spell, creating the illusion of a rock face covering the cave mouth. Roars and growls from the beasts grew louder, getting closer. Sweat began to bead and glisten on the old man’s bald cap. He turned and looked down at the five men who still lay in their death-trance. A beast moved across the front of the cave, but it did not enter. Gan-Goran stared in horror at the creature that prowled back and forth.

  The beast, the size of a large pony, was covered with thick, matted black fur. Its strong, thick legs ended on huge flat paws that had long protruding talons. Its head, shaped like that of a wild wolf, was massive with red cat-like eyes and two horns that started behind the ears, arching round and down to the beast’s mouth. The beast’s maw gaped open, exposing three rows of sharp yellowing teeth, huge sets of canines with drooled pink gelatinous saliva and pieces of rancid, rotten flesh caught between its teeth. The beast walked up and down outside the cave mouth growling with contempt, its breath misting in the night air and Gan-Goran could only guess how foully the beast’s breath reeked.

  “Wraith Hounds,” whispered the old magic-master, his voice full of fear. The hound by the cave mouth stopped moving. It stared directly at the old master-magiker. Gan-Goran stood stock-still and did not breathe. The beast’s hot pants misted over its face as it stalked forward towards the illusion. Suddenly, its head snapped around and it sniffed the air. In one bound, it loped off back towards the house. Gan-Goran let out a long sigh, shuffled to the cave mouth, and peered out. Nothing moved. Then behind him one of the men groaned. Gan-Goran s
harply turned, rushed to Dax’s side, and helped the old warrior sit up.

  “Welcome back,” said Gan-Goran, his voice choked with emotion.

  It took Dax a heartbeat to recognise the cave, then he smiled at the old man. “It’s damn nice to be back, Gan.”

  The others started to stir—all except Tanas. The men groaned and rose unsteadily. Gan-Goran greeted each warmly as they rose.

  “I am sorry to tell you this as soon as you have arrived back,” said the magic-master glumly, “but I think the house is in danger.”

  “I remember something about there being trouble,” said Dax, rubbing his head. “Wraith Hounds . . . ”

  “Aye,” started Gan-Goran.

  “Aurillia,” said Rayth, surging to his feet.

  “Wait, wait. There are beasts out there you have not seen before,” pleaded Gan-Goran desperately.

  Rising to his feet and smiling his crooked smile, Zane replied, “After what we’ve been through, nothing will ever surprise me again.”

  “But, but . . . ”

  “Wait here with Tanas,” interrupted Dax, noticing the blind warrior had not awakened. “We will go and help the others.”

  Before Gan-Goran could say anything, the four friends gathered up their weapons and raced out of the small cave into the night towards Thade’s home.

  Gan-Goran sat down next to Tanas’s body and felt his pulse. It fluttered weakly, very weakly, but the man’s soul remained still alive—barely. Gan-Goran sighed and sat next to the blind warrior, gently patting his shoulder, reassuring himself more than anything else.

  ***

  The four men moved quickly but carefully through the woods towards the house. Ahead of them, they could hear growling from the beasts Gan-Goran had mentioned, but had not seen them. Dax held up a clenched fist. The others halted and peered around in the darkness. They were lucky. The moon still bathed the area in silvery light.

  Dax pointed at Rayth and Zane, then gestured in an arcing motion towards the house. Rayth nodded and the two men disappeared into the undergrowth. Dax crouched down and moved onto his hands and knees, creeping through crunching thick grass and bracken. He reached the tree line, carefully parted the grass, and peered at the house. He cursed aloud.