The Darkness of Dawn Page 5

  “Damon. I need to speak to Bertrand. Go summon him.”

  “At once.” Damon bolted out of the room. Asher walked towards the window and looked outwards, admiring the setting sun once more. His face of anxiety was gone and replaced by confident determination. No one will respect and obey me if I am some castle hermit, he thought. I will find out what that Artifact did to me.

  After a few more minutes, Bertrand and Damon walked into Asher’s chamber. Bertrand had a look of confusion.

  “Bertrand,” Asher started, “I need you to take me to the Artifact Vault.”

  “Your Majesty,” Bertrand turned visibly nervous, “it’s too dangerous. I spent years training to be a Naturalist, there are a great many things that go into the process of studying these Artifacts without grave danger…”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Asher proceeded to take steps towards Bertrand, “but I gave you a command. The command was to take me to the Artifact Vault, not tell me stories of your educational background.” Asher now stood in front of Bertrand, towering over him.

  Shaking, Bertrand gulped then said, “Very well, your Majesty. But I must warn you, bad things happen if you are near Artifacts for too long.”

  “Like a certain village massacre?” Asher retorted.

  Bertrand sighed in defeat, “Very well, your Majesty. Follow me.”

  Bertrand turned around and walked towards the door, and Damon opened it. Bertrand shambled out the door while Asher exited with determination and purpose. Damon quickly followed behind.

  “Take the ferry to the bottom,” said Bertrand.

  The three men walked onto the ferry and Asher turned the crank more quickly than ever. The ferry moved swiftly and generated a breeze as it descended, seeming to take only a few short moments to reach the bottom. The marble furnishing of the front entrance reflected the candle and torchlight with serene beauty.

  Bertrand led Asher and Damon towards the rear side of the main floor, which had luxury furniture looking towards a hearth. The fire in the hearth emanated soothing heat on Asher’s face as he stepped towards the flames.

  “I thought we were headed to the Artifact Vault,” Asher politely said.

  “We are.” Bertrand walked up towards the right side of the hearth. On either side were marble statuettes of sword handles. The blade of each sword statue was made to look as if it were plunged into a side of the hearth. Bertrand grabbed the marble sword handle and gently twisted it inward. Shortly thereafter, a doorway ten feet from the pit of the hearth opened, revealing a stairway that descended underground.

  “Who builds this stuff?” Damon blurted.

  “An ancestor of Asher’s, named Rodrik Miller, discovered an Artifact thousands of years ago. According to him, the Artifact installed exalted knowledge into his mind. He dug a great pit from the ground and built the Vault inside. Then, he erected Steeltower around it.”

  “Exalted knowledge?” Damon halfheartedly chuckled then turned towards Asher. “That’s a bit hard to believe.”

  “Is it?” Asher remarked.

  Bertrand started towards the doorway, while Asher and Damon quickly followed behind. As they passed into the doorframe, the air become noticeably more concentrated and colder. The first few steps of the stairway were made of stone and then the steps turned into solid steel. The air continued to thicken and cool with each step until the trio reached a metal vault door.

  “Three feet of steel lined with lead,” Bertrand revealed.

  Bertrand pulled on three levers that were beside the door and turned an apple-sized crank with his left hand. The sounds of gears turning, and metal parts clanking were emitted from the wall surrounding the door.

  Slowly but surely, the door opened inwards to reveal a vast room, entirely white. The material making up the room was completely foreign to Asher—it was almost as tough as steel, but bended and morphed to fit his footsteps ever-so-subtly. Off in the middle of the room, there were two waist-high black pillars. Floating above one of the pillars was the Artifact that Asher had brought back to Steeltower after the village massacre. He squinted to see another Artifact directly beside it—the glow it emitted was dark red. Each of the two Artifacts’ glows reflected off the other, forming a blend of dark red and blue-gray that was projected across the chamber.

  “Besides the one I brought back, there’s only one other Artifact in this Vault?” Asher asked.

  “That’s how rare they are, son. At least ones like these,” said Bertrand.

  Asher did not hear the distinct hum that had been haunting him. He closed the distance between himself and the two Artifacts with a casual jog. As he approached the two Artifacts, he noticed a strange sphere made of light surrounding each one. The light was white with a hint of yellow, and when Asher stood very close to it, he could hear a faint buzz. That buzzing is nothing like the Artifact, luckily, Asher reflected.

  “What is that light-shield?” Asher asked.

  “Every Artifact Vault in the Dawnlands has them, but not one Naturalist has been able to figure out how it works,” Bertrand held his hand out at the light-shield, “but when an Artifact is placed by the pillar it appears—it tempers the influence of Artifacts, as far as we can tell.”

  Curiously, Asher stuck his hand through the light shield surrounding the Red Artifact. When his fingers were inside the bounds, a humming reminiscent of the hum at the village massacre sounded off inside his mind. However, it did not disorient him like the Blue Artifact had. Instead, it impressed upon him a nonspecific desire. Asher felt raw desire for something, but he could not figure out what it was. Suddenly, Damon pulled Asher’s arm back outside the light-shield.

  “Asher!” Damon raised his voice.

  “What the—”

  “Your Majesty!” Bertrand stepped towards Asher. “You screamed in agony until Damon pulled you away, are you okay!?”

  Asher looked at Bertrand in total confusion. “I screamed?” Asher switched his gaze between Bertrand and Damon at a rapid pace. They both nodded at him with concern. I don’t even remember that—what the hell? Asher gently shook himself free of their grasps, and slowly inched back towards the Red Artifact. I won’t surrender to these fucking things! I will figure out what the hell they’re capable of!

  “Don’t take me out of it unless I’m in real danger. I don’t care what I do, don’t take me away unless you absolutely have to!” Asher looked to Damon, who nodded compliantly, and Bertrand, who nodded reluctantly.

  Once again, Asher inched his hand forward into the light-shield. The humming returned into his mind along with the sense of desire. The desire was still vague, but as Asher kept his hand inside, he could decipher parts of it. Images of every great empire submitting to the same figure flashed through his mind. A world united, Asher thought. Then, he saw images of the Dawnlands being attacked by hostile forces both within and outside the united world. Through unity, the Dawnlands would prevail.

  “Get him out!”

  Asher did not know who shouted, but before his vision could conclude, he was thrown far back from the Artifact by multiple people. He could not make out their faces due to his blurred vision, but he saw them all wearing Emberland armor. More shouts echoed behind him, but the words drowned each other out. The shouts started to die down as Asher struggled to his feet. He winced in pain and was nearly overcome with lightheadedness.

  “Asher! Asher can you hear me!?” The voice was panicked, and Asher recognized it as Damon’s. His blurred vision began to refocus, and he saw dozens of Emberland soldiers surrounding him with their swords drawn, encircling him. Laid out across the floor were three more Emberland soldiers who all clutched broken limbs and groaned in pain. Asher wiped some fluid off his forehead and flicked his hand towards the ground, splattering red on the white ground.

  “What is—” Asher mumbled as he struggled to maintain his balance.

  “Nod right now if you can hear me!” Damon demanded.

  Asher struggled, but he nodded. He stood up to his feet then immed
iately collapsed down to his knees. Damon dropped his sword and immediately rushed to help him.

  “Stand down!” The dozens of soldiers all sheathed their swords and murmured amongst themselves.

  “What’s happening?” Asher murmured, coughing up a spittle of blood.

  “You were shouting some weird fucking language. I tried to take you out, but you threw me back twenty feet with one hand!” Damon strained as he pulled Asher up to his feet. “I called down all the nearby men to help but it took six of us just to nudge you!”

  With panicked tears streaming from his eyes, Asher looked at the wounded men strewn across the floor. “I k—killed them—”

  “No, you didn’t! No one died,” Damon reassured.

  Good. Asher was relieved to not have killed any of his men. What the hell is even going on? What the actual fuck just happened to me? Strange language? Throwing men twenty feet? Asher’s thoughts trailed off as he started to lose consciousness—his vision faded to black, and then there was only darkness.

  CH 6 – Black Eyes II

  Black Eyes had heard about Asher’s incident from multiple people. The stories would sound like complete fiction to a normal person, but Black Eyes knew better than to be skeptical of the Artifacts: he had seen one turn a village into a savage kill-box, after all.

  Black Eyes wore his Emberland armor and was strolling through the Steeltower market. He perused the shops, looking for a meal. He approached a food merchant’s stand. The air was filled with the satisfying aroma of baked bread and fresh meat. Apples, raspberries, and emberberries were on wooden displays. Black Eyes was averse to the tongue-numbing fierceness of emberberries, and he never understood why so many loved them. The food merchant was a middle-aged woman named Marcy. She was talking to her customers and fetching them their orders. When Black Eyes approached, she looked up at him with a polite smile.

  “Black Eyes, what can I get started for ya?” She spoke with an informal and expectant tone. She had no love for Black Eyes, but she did not fear him the way a great many others did.

  Black Eyes picked up an apple and showed it to Marcy, “I’ll take this, a roll of bread, and whatever meat is cooking.” He smirked as he bit from the apple.

  “Five copper pieces,” Marcy informed, matter-of-factly.

  Black Eyes reached under his left leg’s plate armor and foraged through his pocket for the appropriate payment. He seamlessly gathered the five coins and placed them on the stand’s counter for Marcy, who collected them hurriedly. She said some words to the cooks behind her, but Black Eyes could not make them out. She grabbed the roll of bread, placed a slab of beef on a flat wooden plate, and slid the items to Black Eyes over the counter. Standing on his two feet, Black Eyes nearly inhaled his food, scarfing down the bread and beef in just a few bites each. He walked away from the stand while still eating the apple.

  “Duncan!” a voice called out. The voice was that of a fourteen-year-old girl with straight black hair and pale skin. She came running towards Black Eyes with her arms open for a hug.

  She must be the only person who calls me that. Black Eyes opened his arms and reciprocated her hug.

  “You are just the girl I was looking for, Becky,” Black Eyes said. He ended their hug by gently turning her around. The pair strolled through the market, looking around at the shops and people nearby.

  “Did you hear about Asher?” she asked.

  “Heard a lot of conflicting reports—the most popular is that he became some sort of demon and threw several of our men away from him like ragdolls, all while chanting some gibberish.”

  “Is that really what happened?” Becky asked.

  “I don’t doubt it.” Black Eyes looked over Becky with a hint of gloom in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner, after that business at the village I—"

  Becky stopped her footsteps in the middle of the market road, then Black Eyes followed suit. The walking townspeople simply moved around them.

  “No, I should have visited you. I heard from some people what happened there. It sounded awful, and I know you liked Danny and Garret—”

  “I liked Garret, but Danny was overly fond of whining,” Black Eyes stated rudely.

  “You shouldn’t say mean things, Duncan.” Becky poked Black Eyes in his breastplate and looked up at him sternly. “You wouldn’t want people to talk bad of you when you couldn’t talk back.”

  Black Eyes looked around at the townsfolk passing by him. They passed glances at Black Eyes, thinking he would not notice, but he always did. Let them look, I know what I am.

  “Plenty of them already do talk bad about me behind my back,” Black Eyes admitted, “but I choose not to care.” He began to walk towards the end of the market, and he started to make way towards his house. “Before I leave the Emberlands, I want to give you a present.”

  Becky’s eyes lit up and she smiled gleefully. “Can you tell me what it is?”

  “Of course not, stupid.” Black Eyes emphasized his joking tone and lightly nudged her on the shoulder with his fist. “Don’t you understand the concept of presents? I’d spoil the surprise if I told you.”

  “I’m not stupid!” She punched his breastplate and recoiled her hand, grimacing in pain.

  “Stupid enough to punch steel armor,” he teased.

  Becky pouted at Black Eyes briefly, then smiled and let out cheerful laughter. Black Eyes playfully scratched her scalp and led her to his house. After a few moments of brisk walking, they arrived at the front door, and Becky looked up at the painted words above his door.

  “Do not enter under any circumstance,” she read aloud. “Are you sure I should enter?” Becky joked.

  Black Eyes chuckled and led Becky through the door. The furniture was exactly where he had left it.

  “Wait here, I’ll go grab your present.” Black Eyes went off to his bedroom. His armor clanked while he scoured beneath the bed. His hand felt up multiple wooden containers in search of the right one. He pulled out a container, dark brown wood, shaped like a generic rectangle with a black tin latch. He opened the container to reveal a wooden toy soldier. The soldier was wood, painted the same red and gray as a typical Emberland soldier. He popped back into the main room, where Becky was waiting, and handed her the toy.

  “This was a gift given to me many years ago, and I want you to have it.”

  Becky examined the toy more closely, taking in every detail. The paint seemed to have been chipping away for a while, and the Emberland Flame was engraved on the torso, though lacking some of the intricate details found on the real armor.

  “Is it a small version of you?” Becky lightly giggled.

  “It was supposed to be. It was given to me as a gift before you were even born. I guess it represents what I wanted to be growing up, and where I am now.” Black Eyes pointed at the Emberland Flame symbol on the toy, then to the genuine emblem on his breastplate. Becky’s gaze followed his finger as she acknowledged his earnest tone.

  “I’m not sure what to say, this must mean a lot to you.”

  “Keep him safe.” Black Eyes pointed to the wooden soldier.

  “So long as you keep yourself safe in the Headlands. Don’t let them hurt you.” Becky looked at him with the beginnings of a tear in her eye.

  Black Eyes wiped the tear from the corner of her eye and looked at her reassuringly. “You got yourself a deal.”

  CH 7 – Viktor I

  It did not take too long to make sure Alexey was truly knocked out. Viktor was much taller and stronger, and the kid had lost a lot of strength from the daunting march they had undergone. Viktor himself was nearly ready to collapse, and despite his exhaustion, he was compelled to protect Alexey from his own stupid decisions. He knew that undermining the Arch-Commander would be a fatal mistake: he remembered the two recruits who had tried to steal bread, and their open throats.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Anton said.

  “What do you think he wanted to do? Tell the Arch-Commander to fuck off?” V
iktor asked, keeping his voice hushed.

  “Probably,” Anton admitted. “But you have to choke him out?”

  “You think this stubborn child could be talked down by either of us?” Viktor heaved Alexey’s limp body over his right shoulder.

  Anton shrugged. “I suppose not.” He glanced out the window to observe the confrontation between the villager and the Arch-Commander. “Now what do we do about all that?”

  “Follow my lead,” Viktor stated confidently. What the fuck am I doing?

  With Alexey still on his shoulder, he gallivanted towards the exit. As he set foot outside, the breeze hit his face and the shouts of the Arch-Commander could be heard more clearly, still offering more threats. All right, Viktor. Think up a plan, now!

  “Anton, can you believe this child drank so much ale so quickly? And here I thought I was thirsty,” Viktor laughed loudly and obnoxiously. The Arch-Commander looked at him and squinted in confusion, his eyes darting among Viktor, Alexey, and Anton.

  “Uh, yeah…” Anton started with mild uncertainty. “Fastest I’ve seen a person black out!” He ended with a convincing chuckle. The Arch-Commander, officers, and villagers all looked with absolute confusion at the sight of Viktor carrying the unconscious Alexey.

  “What the hell happened to that one?” an officer inquired, pointing to Alexey’s unconscious body.

  “Oh, this one?” Viktor stopped right before the officers and clumsily dropped Alexey onto the ground. “Oops!”

  “He drank most of the ale at our table straight from the flagon, sir,” Anton chimed in, then pointed to Alexey and chuckled. “As you can see, he’s new to the art of drinking.”

  Many of the officers laughed while the Arch-Commander smiled silently. Viktor, exaggerating his level of intoxication, stumbled towards the elderly villager on the ground, who still appeared afraid and confused.

  “Villager person!” Viktor pointed at him, bobbing his finger up and down for an uncomfortable duration. “You ever heard of food?” The Arch-Commander was dumbfounded, his jaw agape.