The Darkness of Dawn

by Braden Michael

  “And what achievements am I to respect?”

  Alexey turned several pages until he reached the passage detailing an incident known as the Northern Failure. He turned the open book towards Viktor.

  “An army of 100,000 soldiers invaded the Winterlands. They failed. If it weren’t for the Winterguard—”

  “It wasn’t the Winterguard that stopped those idiots, it was the weather,” Viktor interrupted. “We didn’t need a Winterguard to make them freeze to death.”

  “If you had ever read a book, you might be aware of the role the Winterguard played.” Alexey turned the book back towards himself and traced his finger along the words, searching for the appropriate rebuttal. “Under the cover of a snow storm, the Guard infiltrated the Northern Army’s camp. They burned their provisions and freed the horses. Not a single Winterguardsman died, but the combined might of the North was completely destroyed.” Alexey looked at Viktor with smug satisfaction.

  “Cowardly tactics,” Viktor said.

  “You two both make good points,” Anton intervened. “Viktor, it certainly wasn’t the boldest countermove, you’re correct about that.” He looked to Alexey. “And you are right about the Winterguard playing an important role in defending the Winterlands from the Northern invaders.”

  “That book does not tell you about the real Winterguard,” Viktor continued, ignoring Anton. “The real Winterguard is not as noble as you might think, kid.” Viktor sat up off the edge of his cot and glared at Alexey with malevolence. “They don’t protect the lives of the Winterlands’ people, they ruin those lives.” He remained calm but hostile, continuing to glare at Alexey.

  “If you hate the Winterguard so much, then why are you here!?” said Alexey.

  “Because my only other choice was worse.” Viktor stood up and hastily marched out of the room.

  Alexey looked at Anton with anger and disbelief. “What’s his problem?” Alexey fumed.

  “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s probably just bitter about the weather.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. Alexey thought. Alexey never saw Viktor smile or say anything optimistic. To him, Viktor seemed a generally negative person. Alexey always tried to stay positive, and when people tried to destroy his good attitude, he always ignored them. That was what his father had taught him.

  “What did he mean by other choice, you think?” Alexey asked.

  “He told me he grew up near the Pit,” Anton said.

  Alexey looked down at the floor in melancholic contemplation. The Pit. I wouldn’t want to work there either, that’s for sure. The Pit was the largest mining operation in the Dawnlands: thousands of laborers broke their backs mining out copper, iron, silver, and gold. The Winterlands controlled the largest depots of those resources, and almost all of them came from the Pit.

  “I heard that multiple miners die each week there. Is that true?” Alexey asked.

  Anton quickly changed the subject. “Are you looking forward to the Rite, Alexey? We gotta march through the Frozen Forest then find the Arrival Zone, then we are Winterguardsmen. Sounds easier than it will be, I bet.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Forest.”

  “Seeing it is not the same as marching across the entire thing,” said Anton. “There is a noticeable attrition rate. Some recruits don’t become Winterguard soldiers, most end up frozen corpses.”

  “If you think it’s so dangerous, then why are you here?”

  Anton looked up at Alexey with a mischievous look in his eyes. “My other choice was worse.” He let out a chuckle and continued dashing his blade against his sharpstone.

  CH 3 – Black Eyes I

  After doing a full accounting, the death toll at the Village Massacre tallied in at twenty-four men, thirty-one women, and twelve children. In all the chaos, Black Eyes could not fully conceive of the magnitude of the massacre. All he had cared about at that time was defending himself from a mob of ferals wanting to tear him to bits. He had seen multiple villagers killing Danny and Garret with their bare hands, and he’d barely escaped death himself. Oddly enough, he was fortunate that the bulk of the villagers were attacking each other rather than attacking the greatly outnumbered Emberland Patrolmen.

  Black Eyes and Asher were able to recover Danny’s and Garret’s bodies, minus Garret’s legs and one of Danny’s arms. The bodies were tied down to the horses the best they could manage. On the trek back to Steeltower, Asher and Black Eyes galloped forward in near absolute silence. Occasionally, one gave the other a sullen glance, but they could not bring themselves to speak.

  After two hours on the road and with nighttime approaching, Black Eyes and Asher finally set their sights on Steeltower. Black Eyes admired the walls surrounding the fortress. They were made of a mix of steel and stone, with a guard tower standing fifty feet in the air every one hundred feet along the stretches of the wall. It was impossible not to look up in awe as the main tower reached up and extended into the air so magnificently. The main tower was constructed of steel and concrete, a proud and impregnable beacon of Emberland might.

  A horn sounded from the nearest guard tower as Black Eyes and Asher approached the gate, and a formidable shout echoed from the same guard tower. “Two riders at the gates!”

  “It’s Asher and Black Eyes!” another guard echoed.

  My name just doesn’t sound like royalty, Black Eyes thought. The gates crept open to reveal the inside of Steeltower. The formidable fortress walls cleverly hid the town, which contained dozens of impressive buildings. The town was home to nearly a thousand people: singers, dancers, and actors performed throughout the dirt streets, an armory with dozens of Emberland Guardsmen were playing dice, and blacksmiths clanged away at the weapons and armor they were crafting.

  “Take the horses to the stable,” Asher commanded the guards by the gate, then continued, “and send fifty of our people to Kano’s village for corpse disposal. Send forty men to accompany and protect them.” Asher looked behind him at Danny’s body, slung over the back of his horse like a sack of potatoes. “Take their bodies to the morgue.” Every guard looked upon Danny’s and Garret’s bodies with horror, grief, or disbelief. Several of the dice players had stopped their games to look.

  “Danny and Garret?” one man asked.

  “I need to speak to my father immediately.” Asher dismounted from his horse and started to walk towards the main tower, avoiding eye contact with everybody. Black Eyes quickly dismounted and followed Asher through the crowd. The guards displayed mild confusion but nodded and moved to carry out their orders. Shouts echoed, and dozens of men ran quickly to their posts.

  As Asher and Black Eyes passed by, the guardsmen and townspeople glanced at them. Their sullen faces and bloodied armor were an unusual sight, but they dared not stare. The pair walked through the market, past the residential district, and reached the landing before the main tower. A wooden bridge over fifty feet long and twenty feet wide allowed passage over the river that flowed through the fortress. The walkway was enforced with thick gates and barbed fences around the river bed. As they approached the gate, the men posted there quickly opened the way through, allowing them to walk across the bridge and towards the tower entrance.

  “Are you here to see the Emperor?” one of the guards asked.

  “Yes, we are,” Asher replied solemnly.

  “He is atop the tower. He’ll be waiting for you there.”

  Asher and Black Eyes remained silent as they stood before the base of the main tower, which was far more impressive up close. The foundation was made of durable concrete while stone, steel, and mortar comprised the tower itself. The entrance was entirely transparent and made of glass doors and windows, minus the concrete pillars supporting the tower.

  The two men entered the main hall, which spanned dozens of square feet and had a floor encased in marble. The far end had a large hearth with marble statues of sword-wielding soldiers on either side. At the center of the hall was a wooden platform that acted as a ferry from the bottom to th
e top. The platform was used to ferry supplies and people throughout the many floors of the main tower. A crank in the center of the platform was turned to move the platform up or down, and beside the crank was a lever that could be pulled to keep it in place. The platform hung from several massive ropes thicker than men.

  Asher and Black Eyes stepped onto the platform. Asher stood in silence as Black Eyes started to turn the crank clockwise. The platform lifted as Black Eyes labored on the crank. After a few minutes, the platform was a hundred feet higher than the tower base and encased by the concrete shaft in the center of the tower.

  “I haven’t forgotten what you did, you know.” Asher’s stare was contemptuous and unflinching.

  “Seems that I have forgotten. Can you be so kind as to remind me what has you so upset?” Black Eyes grimaced as he continued to turn the crank.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

  Black Eyes sighed, pulled the platform lever and stepped back from the crank. The platform remained still.

  “Why are you so hung up about that? Are you honestly telling me you have sympathy towards kinslayers and rapists?” Black Eyes contended.

  “I am hung up about how brutal you were! What kind of person mutilates a person like that so impulsively?”

  “Nothing impulsive about it. I did the only right thing to do,” Black Eyes insisted.

  “How can you believe that?” Asher asked.

  “You would rather put him in a cozy cell with a comfy bed and three hot meals a day? Tell me, how can you believe in that?” Black Eyes leaned against the platform railing and crossed his arms, looking at Asher in anticipation of his response.

  “We’ll see what my father has to say about it.” Asher glowered, arms crossed.

  “We’ll see what your father has to say about it,” Black Eyes replied mockingly.

  Black Eyes looked from Asher to the crank, back and forth a few times. Despite being incredibly annoyed, Asher walked over, lifted the lever, and started to turn the crank clockwise.

  Both men remained silent as Asher worked on the crank. He turned it more quickly than Black Eyes had before him, wanting to reach his father as soon as he could manage. Due to Asher’s impatience, the platform reached the top of the tower, nearly five-hundred feet high, after little over six minutes had passed.

  The entrance to the Emperor’s quarters was grand to say the least. As many as six marble statues of Emberland soldiers stood sentry along the short length of the hallway. The faces of the statues possessed incredible detail: every subtle aspect of the human face had been taken into consideration by the sculptor. The statues were dressed in iconic Emberland armor, same as Asher and Black Eyes, and carried ceremonial swords with blades of gilded steel. The floor was made of fine marble that pleasantly reflected the light.

  Asher and Black Eyes stepped forth into the Emperor’s quarters. The finest furniture conceivable found its place inside. A horse-skin rug was sprawled across the floor, and silk-cushioned chairs and recliners were placed throughout the room. A glass window allowed for a breathtaking view of the fortress below and the lands outside the walls.

  In the center of the room there was a steel and wood table surrounded by six chairs, one chair per head and two on either side along the length of the table. At one head of the table the Emperor Harvey Miller sat. He wore a fine red-leather tunic with the Emberland Flame embroidered on the left breast. His fierce green eyes studied the maps and books laid out in front of him. Standing over the Emperor’s shoulder was Steeltower’s Chief Naturalist Bertrand Glover, an elderly man with wisps of white hair across his head. He wore a brownish-red robe that rested comfortably over his body.

  The Emperor’s fierce green eyes shifted upwards and he gazed upon Asher and Black Eyes. “You returned,” he stated plainly. His eyes squinted as he studied the wornness, blood stains, and dirt of their armor. “What happened?”

  Asher took the leather bag he was carrying and carefully placed it on the table, then looked to Naturalist Bertrand. “We found an Artifact. It needs to be locked away in Steeltower’s vault right away.” Bertrand gave no response. Asher continued, “C’mon! I don’t know where the vault is, so what are you waiting for?”

  Asher looked at Bertrand expectantly, and Bertrand nervously darted his eyes away towards the Emperor, who nodded affirmatively. Bertrand quickly grabbed the bag from the table and scurried out of the room.

  “I’m sensing there’s more to this story,” said the Emperor.

  Asher told his father and spared no detail. He spoke of how the Artifact had come into the village’s hands, how Black Eyes had mutilated the prisoner at the village square, the strange hum emitted by the Artifact followed by the massacre, and how Garret and Danny had died fighting.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Danny and Garret. I’ll arrange the funerals,” the Emperor said.

  “What about him?” Asher pointed at Black Eyes. “He can’t get away with torture!”

  The Emperor gazed intently at Asher in silence for a few moments, then looked over to Black Eyes. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “It’s exactly how your son described it, your Majesty,” Black Eyes responded confidently, “and I don’t see why he is more upset about a tortured rapist than a massacred village.”

  “You son of a—”

  “Quiet!” the Emperor commanded. “Do not argue another word!”

  Asher stared at his father with rage and disbelief but was wise enough to hold his tongue. Black Eyes hid his satisfaction and maintained a straight face. The Emperor gestured the two of them to sit down at the table, and both men complied.

  “I grow tired of philosophical arguments over the treatment of prisoners. We have more important matters to discuss.” The Emperor leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together under his chin.

  “What will be done about the Artifact?” Black Eyes asked.

  “Bertrand will see that it is stored safely in the vault,” the Emperor replied curtly. “Right now, the matter of focus is the geopolitical shitstorm we find ourselves in.” He pointed to the Dawnlands map in front of him. “You are both familiar with the war between Emperor Robinson of the Rocklands and Chairman Howell of the Midlands. What you don’t know about is the upcoming armistice, which I am to play a central role in planning.”

  “Why are you supposed to plan this armistice?” Asher asked.

  “Howell has accused me of supporting the Rocklands behind his back by supplying them with excess amounts of firedust.”

  “But you are…” Black Eyes said.

  “That’s correct, but Chairman Howell claims that the Rocklands have a surplus of firedust that they could not replenish with their own resources—that they require our firedust to produce as much as they have shown to have on the battlefield. He has threatened to take drastic action if he uncovers proof that the Robinsons are being sent large caches of firedust. That means a joint Midland-Headland invasion of our territory,” he explained as he slid forward a letter on the table. The content was exactly what the Emperor had described, and the bottom was signed Prescott Howell, Chairman of the Midland Union.

  “What do the Headlands have to do with that?” Asher asked.

  “Chairman Howell’s son recently married the eldest daughter of King Hiroshi.” The Emperor looked directly at Asher. “The same daughter I planned to wed to you.”

  “Looks like perpetual celibacy for Asher,” Black Eyes joked.

  The Emperor ignored Black Eyes and continued, “I hope I do not need to explain to you two how dire this situation is.”

  The Emperor was correct, and never the type to mince words: a joint Headland-Midland army would outnumber the Emberland army three-to-one. Emberland territory was too expansive to adequately defend against such a force with only the numbers they had. The Robinsons of the Rocklands were on the other side of the Dawnlands, thousands of miles away, making them unable to assist in any apparent and effective mann
er.

  “It is of paramount importance that this armistice is successful if we are to survive as a nation,” the Emperor said.

  “What’s the next step?” Black Eyes asked.

  “The armistice is being held in the Headlands, in Yamamoto’s capital fortress, the Furakuhold. I will be traveling there,” he looked at Black Eyes, “and you will be coming with me.”

  “Why him?” Asher protested.

  “You will stay here at Steeltower, and rule domestically in my stead,” the Emperor replied.

  Asher’s frustration and disbelief quickly evaporated from his face. That shut him up. Black Eyes thought. It’s exactly what the fucker wants. To be the mighty Emperor and nowhere near me. You won’t hear me complain either.

  The Emperor turned to Black Eyes. “We set sail for the Headlands one week from now.” The Emperor stood up and walked over to the window to admire the view. “Now leave, both of you. I have a lot of work to do.”

  Black Eyes and Asher quickly stood up and exited the Emperor’s quarters. They passed the soldier statues and set foot upon the ferry platform. Asher pulled the lever and began to turn the crank counter-clockwise.

  “Don’t you think for a second I will forget,” Asher warned. “You ought to be very thankful your fate isn’t up to me.”

  Black Eyes stood silently and Asher turned the crank around a few more times. The platform was lowered one floor below the Emperor’s quarters to reveal Asher’s. The entrance was not as extravagant as his father’s, but paintings depicting Steeltower, the Emberlands, and a sunset were hung up on the walls. Asher quickly went off into the quarters and started to remove his armor.

  Black Eyes went to the crank and lowered the platform all the way to the bottom of the tower. He quickly walked out of the main hall and back out to the landing before the tower. His feet quickly glided across the bridge towards the gate.

  “Open the gates!” Black Eyes commanded.

  Two guards immediately jumped down from their respective platforms and went to open the gates. Black Eyes made haste from the bridge through to the market. He scampered through the crowds, quickly making his way to where the market ended, then walked past the military gate he had entered Steeltower through earlier. There were now only a few guards standing around the area. After dozens more steps, Black Eyes reached the residential district. The houses were impressively constructed and painted beautifully with the iconic Emberland red and gray. Black Eyes walked off the dirt road to the door of his house—the first one to his right. The house was only one story, and had an ominous warning painted above the door frame—Do Not Enter Under Any Circumstance. Black Eyes entered his house.