Chapter 3

  Lights in the Dark

  Elivera’s head rang as she struggled to open her eyes. The air was warm and heavy, and unusually hot. With a grunt, she got to her knees, frantically blinking her eyes open. The intensity of the surrounding darkness startled her, and for a terrified moment, she thought that her fall had harmed her vision.

  “Arv!” she said, “Neyra! Shamil! Anyone?!”

  “Here,” came the soft bellow of Arv’s deep voice, cracking ever so slightly at the end. She felt his large hand fumble into her back, and she could just barely see his angular, orcish features in the oppressive dim.

  “What just happened?” Shamil asked, voice not too far off. Neyra soon followed, coughing with a strained voice,

  “I’m here. Where are you? I can’t see a thing.”

  “Climb on, quick! We’re getting out of here,” Arv said.

  With an effortless snatch, he lifted Elivera off the ground and onto his shoulder. Shamil and Neyra soon followed.

  “There’s another door somewhere back here!” Shamil said, “Just keep going forward!”

  “I see it,” Arv said as he propelled them through the darkness.

  “How can you two see anything in this?!” Elivera asked with exasperation, straining her eyes even harder.

  “Dark vision,” Neyra said from the other side of Arv’s back. Right, Elivera thought. Perhaps she hit her head harder than she thought.

  Just as Arv approached the door, a shape (almost bigger than Arv) came barreling past them,

  “Move!” he hissed, whipping gnarled hands out to shove Arv aside. The man scrambled past them and threw open the door. His ornate maroon robes swished as he ran out into the open air.

  “The soothsayer!” Neyra called. Elivera couldn’t tell if her sister spoke with disgust or with awe. She knew how much she wanted to meet the strange fellow, but the bastard was running away from them!

  “Arv, after him!”

  Arv needed no convincing to rush after the man. As they passed the building’s threshold, the oppressive darkness eased up, but not by much. It couldn’t have been any later than early evening, but it was already dark. Elivera’s ears finally stopped ringing and, with terror, she could finally make out the distant sounds of screams. What was happening?

  “Hey, you!” Arv said, his orcish lungs propelling the shout forward with a terrifying energy, “Stop right there! What did you DO?!”

  The man glanced over his shoulder in absolute terror, his beady eyes widening at the sight of Arv. His legs moved faster. The man was scrambling to gain ground as he made his way north up the main road.

  With a sudden jerk, Elivera’s face slammed into Arv’s shoulder. He had stopped, and abruptly at that. Shamil and Neyra grunted as well, recovering from the sudden lurch.

  “Ow! What was that for?!” Shamil asked.

  “Oh, hush!” Arv said. Elivera peered down to see that Arv had stopped to rummage through a crate near the smithy, Master Stev’s house,

  “What are you even doing?” Elivera asked, “He’s getting away!”

  Arv snapped back with a venom that was unusual for his normally mild manner,

  “Catchin’ him’ll mean nothin’ if I don’t have something to whack ‘em with, Elle! Aha!”

  He pulled two slightly rusty harpoons from the crate, testing their weight in his hands.

  “These’ll do.”

  He tensed his legs to get up and run again when they heard it. A strange, whistling shriek echoed across the sky, carried on a green ball of fire. Elivera froze as she watched it lance forward, its sickly light breaking the unnatural dark. It screamed with fury as it struck true, crashing directly on top of the soothsayer. Elivera swore she could hear a sickening pop through the boom of the impact. Her stomach churned with bile as a fine red mist covered them from head to toe with all that remained of the robed man. A small crater steamed in the ground not too far ahead of them, a grave that they would have shared with the soothsayer had Arv not stopped.

  “Home,” Neyra said, all color gone from her cheeks. Shamil swallowed and wiped the gore from her face, devoid of expression. Elivera shuddered and closed her eyes. She buried her head into Arv’s shirt, and he ran.

  ***

  Neyra took shallow, forced breaths as she held onto Arv with sweaty, clammy hands. Her head was spinning, and her blood ran ice cold. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Wails of agony still pierced the night, fading slightly as they put distance between themselves and the center of town. Neyra considered just how many times in her life she cursed the distance of their house from the amenities of town and the waters of the sea, but now she couldn’t be more grateful. As they grew closer to the cluster of homes, the mists of darkness eased. The oppressive dark hadn’t reached their home, not yet. Neyra finally felt as if she wasn’t half-blind. With desperation, she scanned the approaching dwellings. Light filled the windows of their home, and she could see shadows moving inside. She choked out a cry of relief as they skidded to a halt in front of the house. There was her father, her blessed, wonderful, wonderful father, rushing out to greet them.

  “Kids!” He said, rushing to help the girls down off Arv’s back, “Barcus! Shamil is here! I told you they’d have her!”

  He kept his eyes locked on the children, not daring to look away. There was a clanging crash as a stocky, frazzled gnome came running out of the house.

  “Millie!” With a cry of relief, he scooped an indignant Shamil into his burly arms. He shook as he held her, obviously trying to restrain tears,

  “I’m fine, Da,” Shamil said. From behind the two gnomes came another voice, familiar and warm.

  “Thank the old Gods above!” she said, “We were coming to get you!”

  Neyra’s eyes widened in shock as a figure in full plate armor came clattering out of the doorway. Though covered in small dents, and not particularly polished, the armor was resplendent. Neyra had seen nothing quite like it in her life. Gauntleted hands reached up to remove the helm, revealing the familiar sight of her mother.

  “Ma?”

  Neyra couldn’t find words to form the millions of questions running through her mind. They were all cut short as her mother crushed her in a metallic hug, dragging Elivera into her arms as well. Through tears, she looked up at Arv and their father as they came to join in the embrace.

  “You wonderful boy,” she said, “You did so well.”

  Danya laughed and squeezed Arv’s hand tight.

  “We need to get moving,” Barcus said, walking over with four backpacks in his hands. Neyra examined her best friend’s father with fresh eyes now. Though not as intensely garbed as her mother, Barcus also wore armor. Studded leather, not plate, covered his chest and shoulders. And over that, he still wore his dingy work apron and a belt of tools around his waist. He cracked his knuckles and adjusted his thick leather gloves after dropping the bags at their feet. Brows furrowed in curiosity, Neyra whipped her head around until she found her father. She hadn’t noticed before in the heat of the moment, but he was also wearing a set of fine leather armor. Well-fletched arrows bristled from a quiver at his hip, and he was taking a moment to string a massive bow in his calloused hands. Who were these people?! And what had they done with her parents??

  Elle, Shamil, and Arv seemed to notice the change in their respective parents now too, and they stared with wide eyes. Danya noted those eyes with a chuckle.

  “Yes, yes… I suppose we owe you some explanations, but later. Barcus is right, we need to move. Put those on, and quick!”

  Neyra spared a quick glance into the sturdy, yet roughly sewn pack in her hands. Tin cups and plates, canteen, wine skin, bundles of what she could only imagine were food, small knife, rope…it was an honest to Gods survival pack. How long were these sitting in their house for? Forever?? She looked back up with a start, as her mother called her.

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  “Neyra! Quickly, go fetch the cloaks and coats.”

  Danya jerked her head towards the door. Neyra scrambled to her feet, slinging the pack over her shoulder as she went. She jogged into the house, mindlessly grabbing the cloaks that hung on pegs near the doorway. Her thoughts were elsewhere. With only the briefest hesitation, she hurried up the stairs to the small room she shared with Elivera. She only had a moment. Her eyes watered as she considered the handful of books on her humble shelf. She shook her head and ?found the most important one, her notebook. She snatched the bundle that held her writing implements and stuffed them in her pack. Before even a minute had passed, she was back down the stairs and out the door.

  Her mother eyed her as she hustled past, hands full of the bundled clothing. The others were crowding around the wagon that always sat, mostly unused, tucked behind the back of the house. Barcus led his two mules to the front, eager to get them hitched. They weren’t runners, but they knew to pull well enough. He was talking quickly with Shamil, who walked by his side while rummaging through her spare pack. She pulled out the leather strap and looked at her father questioningly.

  “You know Id’ve made one for you years ago, had ya just asked! But yes, get that on him! Gods send he doesn’t need to run with you again, but better to be ready.” Shamil turned to grin at Neyra, who smiled back in earnest.

  It had taken many weeks to scavenge all the straps and buckles, and many more nights of sneaking to take measurements of Arv, who was, mercifully, a VERY deep sleeper. But it was ?ready.

  Arv stood moments later, all strapped into something that could only be described as a halfling harness. It was of modest design. Sturdy leather straps held a small wooden “shelf” in place near the small of his back. It stretched the width of his lower back, providing just enough of a ledge for three small pairs of feet to stand on. Small, looped handles near his shoulders provided better handholds than his shirt alone.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Barcus said, looking at Neyra with a grin. “You ?were paying attention all those days in the workshop. You and Shamil did well. It’s sturdy and effective. Count me impressed,”

  “How’s it feel, Arv?” Neyra asked as she beamed up at her brother. The fear of their situation seemed to melt away for a moment as he flexed his shoulders and rolled his arms. He hopped a little in excitement.

  “This will be SO MUCH better! Thank you!” He scooped Shamil and Neyra into a hug.

  “Time to go,” Adelard said, voice grim. He stood atop the wagon, spyglass to his eye, “We’re about to have company.”

  “You heard your father! In! In!” Danya said, pushing them into the back of the wagon. Howls filled the air, and a green light pulsed from down the village road. After they were all aboard, she leapt to the front of the wagon alongside her husband.

  “Barcus! Give us some cover! We’re out of here!”

  The wagon lurched, and Neyra had to hold on to keep from tumbling out as they launched off into the unknown.

  ***

  Shamil felt like wooden dice in a tin cup as she rattled uncontrollably in the back of the cramped wagon. But even through all the bumps and jolts, her eyes never left her father. What strange spirit had possessed this man? He stood as if he was the hero in one of her stories, his crossbow loaded and ready. His eyes shone with unyielding focus as he scanned the distant horizon. The rattling of the wagon never seemed to phase him. A shiver raced up her spine as another howl pierced the night. She couldn’t believe this was happening. What in the gods was chasing them?

  The landscape passed by in a bumpy blur, landmarks just barely registering to Shamil’s frazzled mind. They were about a mile outside of town now, with nothing but a few warehouses and storage sheds dotting the grassy plains.

  “So the soothsayer’s dead?!” Danya shouted into the back of the wagon. Her head craned back and nearly touched with Neyra’s, who stood on tiptoes to reach her mother. Shamil’s best friend was furiously trying to explain what had happened.

  “Damned coward,” Adelard said as he gave the reins another snap, “Hiding in the back room, making you come to him. I told him to wait for you outside!” He had to shout to be heard, “Danya! Take these, love.”

  With practiced expertise, Ma Tallfellow took control of the wagon, allowing her husband to hop into the back with Barcus and the children. He motioned for them to huddle close to him, all except her father, who kept his post.

  “The man gave a divination, you see. He told the council, in no uncertain terms, that danger was coming to our shores. A danger, he said, that we stood no hope of fighting against.” His eyes darkened. “Once the arguing began, I knew we had no choice but to run, no choice but to get home and get prepared. I left him with explicit instructions to help you if you came, fat lot of good that did.” he shook his head in disgust, “I should have stayed. I should have done something better. I’m so sorry.”

  Shamil stared at him with wide eyes. She had never seen Master Tallfellow so vulnerable, a state made all the stranger by the armor and equipment he wore. She glanced at Elivera, Neyra, and Arv, trying to imagine what they must be thinking. Elivera clung to her brother, using his leg to keep steady in the wagon's jostling. Her expression was strained, and her eyes glistened with a soft sheen of tears as her father spoke to them. Arv crouched down as small as he could make himself, but he kept his head held high. His yellow eyes almost glowed in the dim light as he stared ahead at his father. She couldn’t read him, which was quite unusual for the normally expressive orc. Shamil sucked in a sharp breath as she glanced at Neyra.

  Neyra was her oldest and best friend, a near-sister to her in every conceivable way. And as such, Shamil was quite apt at understanding how her mind worked, how she handled things. Neyra was putting up a front. Shamil knew she was trying to be brave for her siblings, brave for her, but she was barely keeping it together. Her knuckles were white, clenched in fists at the sides of her slight frame. Auburn brows furrowed over her big brown eyes, and Neyra almost looked fierce, if not for the slight quiver in her lower lip.

  “Da,” she said, “You don’t have to be sorry. We-”

  Neyra’s words cut short as a familiar shrieking whine screeched through the air.

  “INCOMING!” Shamil’s father bellowed as he threw himself at her with desperate speed. Her father’s arms enveloped her little body as an explosion rocked the ground right next to their wagon.

  ***

  If the day had not already been full of impossible things, Neyra would’ve been shocked at the word that left her mother’s mouth.

  “Shit!” Danya yelled. The wagon tipped dangerously to one side as she lost control of the beasts reined in her hands.

  “Out! Out!” Barcus shouted, Shamil still clutched in his arms. He sprang out of the wagon with surprising strength, bearing his daughter away from the impending crash.

  “Arv! Get Elle!” Adelard yelled as he scooped Neyra up.

  Before she knew what was happening, Neyra crashed to the ground in a heap with her father. Through blurry eyes, she could see her brother bearing Elle to safety as the wagon careened out of control. Her mother soon followed, jumping out to land with a loud clank before the wagon tipped over. Hot air swept Neyra’s face as fire struck again, this time catching the back of the now-empty wagon.

  “Go!” Her father’s voice sounded muffled as he held her tighter to his chest. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing as her father spirited her away into the fading light.

  ***

  Elivera clung desperately to her brother as they left the wagon behind. They fled off the road, taking a direct path to one of the old storage houses that stood on the outskirts of town. Night was coming in truth now, made all the worse by that awful black mist that was slowly encroaching on them. Compared to Arv and Shamil, Elle’s eyes were useless in darkness like this. Despite that fact, she could see enough. And what she saw made her want to shut her eyes forever.

  Small, flickering pinpricks of light dotted the tree line. Orange and metallic, they reminded her of how Arv’s eyes would catch the light in a pitch black room. A bone chilling howl named those lights for what they were, the eyes of wolves. Even with that information, horrible enough as it was, she wasn't truly prepared for the creature that prowled out from under the deepest dark of the mists. This was no natural beast.

  It resembled a wolf, though it stood even larger than the wagon they had just abandoned. Long, thick quills jutted from matted gray fur, and they bristled and quivered as the beast shook its head. The monstrosity exuded pure terror, a terror that remained unmatched in Elivera’s heart until she saw its rider.

  Hunched over the beast’s back was a figure clad in armor black as obsidian. The plates overlapped in a haphazard mess of straps and savage spikes, wet with blood. In its hands it clutched a wicked spear, its pointed tip raised directly at them in challenge.

  Abruptly, Arv turned a corner, whip lashing her around like a rag doll as they fled into the cover of the small cluster of storage buildings. Elivera’s heart felt as if it was trying to pound its way out of her chest.

  “Here! Quickly! Quickly!” Danya said, wrenching the massive door open and ushering them inside. The wood groaned with the unexpected use, hinges creaking in protest as she forced enough room for them to rush in. The musty air was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from a small lantern that Neyra clutched in trembling hands.

  “No! No no no!” Shamil said. Her strangled whimper pierced the dim, causing Elle to redirect her gaze. She watched with tearful eyes as her own father restrained Shamil, holding her tight as Barcus pressed a kiss to her shaking forehead. Elle couldn’t hear what Barcus said to his daughter. She only watched as he sprinted out the door with his crossbow raised and loaded.

  Adelard slowly released a numb Shamil, giving her a reassuring squeeze as he set her on the floor next to Neyra, who was nodding slowly as their mother talked to her in furious whispers.

  “Arv, quickly! Help with this,” Adelard said. With a thump, Elle found herself deposited on the ground as Arv rushed to help their father. The two were lifting the lid off of a large crate, wood splintering slightly as they pried it open. “It will do, lad.” Adelard turned to find Elle in the darkness. With a forlorn sigh, he scooped her up into his arms, holding her head to his shoulder as they walked to the open crate. She didn’t know when she started crying. Her father’s voice came to her in only a whisper, the words barely registering to her frazzled mind.

  “Listen to me, Elle. Your mother and I are so proud of you. Your spirit, your ferocity, your cleverness — never forget it. I—I love you, my little one.”

  His voice was cracking by the end as he gently set her down in the deeper darkness of the crate. Elle was glad she couldn’t see his face because it surely would have broken her more. Her own face was a mess of tears, falling hot down her cheeks.

  “Now you, Arv. You’ll fit just barely, there’s a good lad…” the rest of his words to Arv drowned out in Elle’s mind as she put her whole effort into not falling completely apart. She barely registered as Arv’s giant legs swung into the crate, gently avoiding her. Arv was sniffing as he reached out to take Shamil, who was completely silent. The girls clung together near Arv. Finally, a soft light came as Danya approached the crate, holding a trembling Neyra in her arms. Armor clanked softly as she pressed a tender kiss onto Neyra’s head. The lamp’s light struck Neyra’s face, briefly illuminating a gaze that was completely hollow, her tears long spent. She joined the others, clutching the small lantern as if it was anchoring her to life itself.

  “We love you.” Danya whispered, and the lid of the crate crashed shut.