“Are you sure it’s him, Your Majesty?” Themon asked.
The king nodded. “Yes, it’s him. And some sort of monster is always with him. It’s shaped like a man, but impossibly huge. I always see them talking to one another. I can never see the monster clearly, but him,” said Jebran, pointing at Brynn, “his face is etched into my mind when I awake. How did you find him?”
“He’s a druid at our college, Your Majesty,” Themon replied. “When I received your message this morning about your dreams and your description of the man, I had him apprehended immediately. We believe he may be corrupted by an evil spirit.” When he saw the alarm on Jebran’s face, he quickly added, “But not to worry, the talisman that you possess will protect us from harm.”
Brynn caught Themon’s unconscious glance at the king’s waist. A dagger was belted at Jebran’s side. Runes adorned the hilt that looked exactly like the runes on Arasen the Bonewalker’s dagger. How had King Jebran obtained it? Could there be multiple of them?
In spite of Themon’s assurances, Jebran took a small step back. The knights at his side did the same, while also placing their hands on the hilts of their swords. The two jailors tried their best to shuffle away on their knees. The jailor holding the lantern jostled it, its flame flickered, and for a brief moment, an instant,
there was only Darkness
What kind of effect does the Darkness have?
- Roll 99: Charge
- Roll 24: Balance
and Brynn gasped and teetered. He felt a strange sense of detachment.
Nothing changed … something changed … everything changed …
The lantern fluttered back to life. Brynn blinked. What had changed?
“What is to be done with, er, … ?” Jebran was asking. He was obviously conflicted about ending his sentence with ‘him’ or ‘it.’
Themon looked at Brynn and then to Jebran. A fleeting expression crossed his face. Was it suspicion? Expectation? Brynn was unsure.
“We need to study him, Your Majesty,” he finally answered. “There are rituals to remove corruption, but first we must understand its nature. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I merely required confirmation that we have the right person. I apologize for inconveniencing you, good sir.” He gave slight bow to the king.
“See to it that this man stays out of my dreams, Druid,” Jebran responded. He looked around the cell and wrinkled his nose. “I have more pressing matters to attend to. Let us be away.”
The king, the knights, the jailors, and Themon filed out of Brynn’s prison. The door squealed as the jailor closed it. Then it slammed shut with a bang.
Brynn was kneeling on the cell floor, surrounded by Darkness. His hands were still manacled behind his back. The jailors had obviously had no desire to go near him to release him from his bonds. They had fled the cell with the others as quickly as they could.
His nose itched. He awkwardly started moving in a random direction. Maybe he could scratch his nose on one of the cell walls. Assuming he could find one without smashing his head into it.
“I could help you.”
Brynn stopped short. “Kodroth?” he asked blindly.
“Of course.”
“What does the Darkness want?” Brynn asked.
“For it to be dark. What else would it want?”
“How is the king involved?”
Kodroth sighed. “Involved with what?” he retorted. He sounded annoyed. “The meeting was what was important. You were to meet the king, and you did.”
“Why me, Kodroth? Why?”
“Why me? How this? What that?” Kodroth mimicked Brynn’s voice mockingly. “I grow tired of your questions, Backstabber.”
“I need to understand, Kodroth,” Brynn persisted.
“You think you are entitled to understand?! Who are you to ask with words without knowledge?” Kodroth replied angrily. “Brace yourself—I will question you, and you shall answer me!” he thundered. Brynn felt the cell tremble and quake before the sound of his voice. “Where were you when the earth’s foundations were laid? Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it while the morning stars sang together and shouted for joy! Who fixed limits for the sea when it burst forth into the world!” The walls cracked and the iron door rang from the onslaught of his speech. “Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you walked the recesses of the deep? Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all this!”
“What is the way to the abode of light?” Kodroth bellowed. Brynn’s ribs hummed. “And tell me, Backstabber, where does the Darkness reside?”
Brynn scrunched his face. His nose really itched. “If you don’t want to give me an answer, you could just say so,” he complained.
Kodroth let out an exasperated groan. There was silence for a long moment. When Kodroth finally responded, his voice was softer, sadder. “Listen to me, Backstabber. My life as a raider was poor, nasty, brutish and short. As it is for many mortals. But it doesn’t have to be that way! We could change things! Remake things! All for the better! But I’m afraid we’re going to have to start over, right at the beginning. And what came first? I’ll tell you, but I think you already know.”
Kodroth whispered in his ear. “Before there was light, there was Darkness.”
Kodroth was quiet now. Perhaps he had said too much. Maybe he had simply left. Brynn stayed on his knees, listening to the silence.
Time passed.
His stomach grumbled.
The rats skittered.
His nose itched.
He decided to distract himself by thinking about what Kodroth had told him. From what Brynn could understand of Kodroth’s unhinged rambling, he intended to unmake the world using the Darkness. Brynn wasn’t sure how or why. Had it been his goal when he was alive? Brynn recalled that Arasen the Bonewalker had been sent by Kodroth to Brightmyst. For what purpose? Arasen eventually ventured into the Far Forest, where he met his untimely end. Maybe it was to find the Darkness. And what about King Jebran’s dagger? The runes matched Arasen’s. Themon had said it would protect them, but Brynn wasn’t so sure.
Brynn sighed, breathing in the Darkness deeply. His ruminations on the matter were useless. He had given up on trying to stop the Darkness, hadn’t he? Besides, the druids would soon come to conduct their rituals to rid him of his supposed corruption. He had never learned any of them—they were reserved for High Druids only—but if the rumors were true, it would not end well for him. He was going to die here in this cell and there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps he would become a bonewalker like Arasen, and then be doomed to wander the dark corners of the Dungeons of Galdir for an eternity.
Don’t.
The word came unbidden to his mind, Seleeku’s prophecy back in Grimcairn. Was it a prophecy though? It was more like advice. Or a command.
Don’t.
Both he and Seleeku had assumed the prophecy was telling him not to kick the black stone tomb in Grimcairn, but Seleeku had shouted it out at the same time as he had sent his foot flying. Prophecies were for the future, weren’t they? Not the past. Not the present.
Don’t.
The prophecy wasn’t for then.
It was for now.
Dull lights flickered around the edges of the cell door, trying vainly to pierce the Darkness. He heard the fumbling of keys as someone on the other side searched for the correct one. Finally the door screeched ajar in halting steps, the person grunting with effort. When the opening was wide enough, a small, wizened figure squeezed in. The lantern in the individual’s hand dimly illuminated the cell, giving Brynn just enough light to recognize who stood before him.
High Druid Themon looked Brynn up and down. “Tell me, Druid Brynn,” he ordered, “what have you done with my book?”