After the Dark

by Spencer Labbe

  “But our people? Your people —”

  “It was a necessity,” repeated the King firmly.

  A strained silence as Harlem glared at the King, and King Harlow looked mildly around at them all. He stopped to study Pil and Felicity with particular interest.

  “King, sir,” said Dirk, awkwardly breaking the silence. “My — my brother’s in Southden right now — he’s a digger… do you — do you think —”

  “I think all civilians are currently alive,” said King Harlow, not unkindly. “But it is a grave situation for them — one that will be dealt with in due course, I promise you that. As for now — all we can do is wait. Perhaps we will hear a list of demands for the safe return of our people. For now, we must remain calm and hopeful.

  “I think I am right in observing,” the King went on, addressing Felicity, “that you Entri performed exceptionally well, and fought very bravely out in the light.” Harlem crossed his arms, still obviously upset.

  “Normally, after waiting a year there would be a ceremony in which you would be granted the Exidite badge. I think I am right to assume that we might grant you the Exidite title prematurely.” He raised his eyebrows at Harlem.

  “Yes,” said Harlem, taken aback. He turned to face them all. “I was planning that as well. You have done exceptionally well. I have personally reviewed your potential and think you should all be granted not only your title, but also the freedom to choose whichever squadron you may wish to join.” He paused to glare quickly up at his Father. “I think I am right in saying that we will need all the help we can get in the coming days.”

  Pil felt strange. He could not quite enjoy the moment. So much had happened in the Afterdark; so many had died, and yet he, Pil, was being rewarded.

  The King smiled for the first time and clapped his hands. Immediately from some hidden doorway, a waspish-looking well-dressed man came into the chamber.

  “My lord?”

  “Andrew, I need,” he counted the Entri looking up at him in shock and excitement, “seven titles for these young Exidite.”

  The man nodded and swept quickly out through a hallway off to the right. Pil looked over at Dirk, whose eyes were shining with glee. This would mean a world of difference for his family. Sandy looked similarly shocked and pleased. Brixton looked bored, as though this gift was less than satisfactory.

  The waspish man Andrew was back in seconds, carrying a plump purple pillow on which lay seven gleaming pieces of silver.

  “My lord,” he said, offering the King the pillow.

  Harlem strode quickly over and took the pillow from his father. “I will do this, Father. I owe them that much, and more.”

  He turned and approached Pil first. “For your bravery, your loyalty, and your cunning: welcome.” He pinned the curved medal E onto Pil’s front. Pil stared down at it and managed a sad smile.

  Harlem went around pinning the titles onto their black fur vests. When he was done, he stepped back to face them all.

  “Welcome,” he said again. “The road ahead is going to be dark and fraught with danger. But I speak for all the Exidite when I say that I am glad to have brothers and sisters like you young Elfin by my side. Welcome to the Exidite.”

  Pil straightened importantly, feeling a warm glow begin to creep onto his face.

  “Incidentally, Harlem,” began the King quietly, “the matter of the sparks … you didn’t say … have you any information? Perhaps did —”

  “No,” said Harlem somewhat harshly. “I have heard nothing of a necklace, and I will not sacrifice more of my men on such a useless effort again.”

  “Necklace?” Pil asked curiously. “I found one …” Pil pulled the necklace from his tunic; it still had flecks of dried blood on it.

  “Oh!” The King rose as if in a trance. In an instant he was in front of Pil, his hands outstretched. “Where … how did you come across this?”

  Pil handed the golden crystal over to the King, who examined it greedily. The light reflected off his cold blue eyes, which were, for the first time, showing real emotion.

  “It was in the Chasm of Agora,” said Pil. “Why? What is it?”

  “This, dear boy, is the heirloom of the Kings,” said King Harlow. “This is the Ethereal piece of Alfer Arrow, long lost, and long forgotten. I never hoped in a million years …”

  “This thing,” Harlem interrupted. “This is why you sent my men on the mission? What is it?”

  The King glared at him. “I sent your men on the mission because gold sparks are a sure sign of the lüxore. This,” he held the golden crystal up, “this is no simple necklace. The lüxore is responsible for the creation of see-stone. Its full magical capabilities are unknown, but it is said when Alfer Arrow decided to hide us away underground he traveled to Soma Mountains and used the lüxore to trap the light of the day in the rocks … Westleton was not always so dark.”

  “Then—then how do we use it?” asked Pil. “What does it do to the see-stone?”

  “I think only you can find that out,” said the King. He unclasped the necklace and approached Pil. “You found it — you are its rightful keeper. You are the lüxore now; you and it will become one, and it will show you the way.”

  Pil looked down at the crystal now hanging from his neck.

  “That’s great and all,” said Pil. “But shouldn’t Harlem wear it? Isn’t he better suited…I mean, this is the King’s Heirloom.”

  “Pil, he’s right,” said Harlem. “Magical items can be picky; I don’t think it would ever work for me half as well as it would for you.”

  “The lüxore was searching for an owner and it reached out with golden sparks,” the King went on, walking back to the throne and sitting down heavily. “It reached out, and it found you…”

  Pil didn’t quite understand it, but he nodded anyway. The weight of the lüxore was heavy on his chest.

  Not long after this, Harlem dismissed them all. He needed to have a private meeting with his father.

  “And I think you have all earned a rest; your families must be very worried.”

  Pil left feeling elated. He was going to see his family, after everything he’d been through. They were finally home.

  The way back was a blur. Felicity left Pil and Dirk at the gates heading into the Castle grounds off to the Falon manor. And Dirk, too, broke away from Pil, shortly after they got into lower town. He was worried about having left his family alone for so long with their father.

  Soon Pil was standing at his crooked front door. The familiar old wood and rickety structure felt like home. Pil hardly hesitated on the doorstep before striding quickly in. He creaked his way up the stairs to his sister’s room.

  “Peach,” Pil whispered, leaning over her hammock. “Peach, it’s me — it’s Pil.”

  Peach grumbled and rolled over. The second she opened her eyes, she let out a loud squeal of excitement.

  “I was so worried!” She leapt up and cried into his shoulder. “An’ Pa’, too, Pil — we’ve been — it’s been awful!”

  “I’m all right, Peach,” said Pil reassuringly as he patted her on the back. “Everything’s alri’ —”

  Bang! The door flew open.

  Standing framed by the door, looking wild and scared, was Pil’s father, Peri Persins.

  “Wha’s going — I heard yelling, who?” He started crazily and then he caught sight of Pil.

  “It’s me, Pa’ I’m back. I’m home.”

  Mr. Persins let out a shout of laughter as he glided over to hug his son. Together they all creaked back down the stairs.

  “What happened to your face!?” Peach exclaimed as they sat at the dinner table. “And your hair! Pil —?”

  It took Pil all of an hour to tell them what had happened to him since the Entri test, in which time Peach had gone to get them all food and come back.

  Pil finished telling his story and sat back to eat ravenously, as they stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

  “Pil — charring hell —” said
Peri Persins, dumbfounded. “I mean — and Southden an’ all? Charring hell, we are in a mess of things now.”

  “We didn’t know anything like that was going on,” said Peach, terrified. “It has been almost normal here. I mean, the Exidite told everyone what had happened outside, obviously because there’ve been a lot of deaths. And they said you were lost outside, but that Harlem was going to look for you — but this is just …”

  “Scary,” finished Pil. “Yeah, but it will all be all right, Peach. I won’t let anything happen to you guys — and, anyway, the King has blocked the borders. They have no way of getting into Westleton now.”

  “Don’ worry so much, Peach,” said Mr. Persins. “I reckon them Exidite will get it all figured out — and the King’s men an’ all too.”

  They ate the rest of their dinner, talking of smaller things. It seemed while they had been away Dirk’s father had been again kicked out of the bar Foibles. And the Falons had even consented to visit lower town — to come see if Pil’s family had heard anything from the Exidite about Felicity. Prestige rarely go into lower town, and it had caused something of a spectacle to the poverty-stricken.

  “And her mother is so stuck-up-looking,” relayed Peach, talking about Felicity’s mother. “The whole time she was here she was acting all paranoid like she would be attacked at any moment.”

  Pil laughed. He could almost imagine it — the famous Falon family strolling up to his decaying neighborhood.

  “You look so much older, Pil,” said Peach happily. “Those scars on your eye — you look like Harlem Havok.”

  Mr. Persins gave a strained smile. “I didn’ wan’ you to have to go through them things, son, but I’m proud o’ the way you handled it. You’re a true Exidite, now.”

  Pil smiled warmly. “Thanks. I’m just glad I’m home, though.”

  The thought of being home brought a warm feeling to his chest. But after a second that warm feeling didn’t fade, it intensified.

  “Pil, that necklace!” yelled Peach, pointing to his chest.

  The crystal of the lüxore was glowing brightly and then, all at once, golden sparks exploded out from it. Peri Persins shouted and jumped back as the sparks flew around them; and then they turned, racing out through the cracks in the house.

  “What was that!” Pil chased after the sparks and went out onto the dark street.

  Except it was no longer dark. A burst of golden light was now pulsing against the dirt ceiling above him, illuminating the world around him. It was a collection of moving sparks as bright as the sun.

  Peach and Peri Persins stumbled out behind him murmuring indistinct words of shock. And then more people began to appear. One by one, doors slammed open in a panic and in seconds the dirt street was full of Elfin, all of whom were staring in awe at the spectacle on the ceiling. Even as Pil watched, liquid-looking purple light drifted from out of the open doorways, floating lazily towards the golden ball. They collected en masse, staining the golden light purple, until there were merely spots of gold peeking through.

  And then it was gone. The light died down to reveal an enormous see-stone, apparently hanging from the ceiling. The purple died to almost black, and once again the street flooded with darkness.

  A great bubble of laughter and chatting broke out at once; the Elfin were mystified, apparently unsure of what had just happened.

  “Wha’ in the world?” asked Peri Persins, gazing fixedly at Pil. “Wha’ in Haven jus’ happened, Pil?”

  Pil smiled and looked down at his chest. The crystal necklace was lying dormant now. The light had gone from it completely.

  “I’m not quite sure,” he said at last. “But I think things will be a bit brighter around here tomorrow morning.”

  And as he let that thought sink in, he felt all the worry he had carried with him aboveground melt away. He was home — and he was safe — no longer would he live in the dark and cold. Let the others worry about the future, for now, he was happy.

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  Despite how often I have read the words “This book has taken an enormous amount of effort,” I never quite understood the immense amount of time that goes into such a project. Until now, that is. The Castaway King series is everything I have ever wanted to write. But the first book of this series would never have come about without the combined effort of friends, family, and my brilliantly hard-working editor. To Erin Young – thank you for putting up with my incessantly annoying adverbs, as well as my – excessive – number of em dashes. I appreciated your insight and am very thankful for your help.

  Another person of note when in consideration of After the Dark, is my lovely fiancé Sierra. Without whom there would be no Pil. Or rather there might have been, but his name, and the names of every other character in this book, would have been something significantly less perfect. Names are powerful things, and it takes a certain amount of cunning to suggest the first one that comes to mind.

  And lastly, I think an enormous of thanks must be allotted to my dear parents. Who not only backed and contributed to this project, but who were also very supportive of my vision. All parents should love their children. But it certainly must take a lot of patience and understanding to deal with someone like me.

  ABOUT SPENCER LABBÉ

  Reading has always been an expansive part of my personality. It had become an obsession for me, I ate, slept, and bled the written word for several years. From that, my drive grew to create other worlds; whether that be on canvas or on paper.

  Fantasy, to me, has always been the purist form of storytelling. As Lloyd Alexander said "Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it." It allows you not only to relay, and convey, thoughts and emotions – but to explore ideas otherwise impossible.