Chapter Eighteen - The Darkest Dawn
I OPENED MY eyes when I felt the freshness of the clean morning air upon my face. I was lying on the moorland just outside of Forge Gate, my back wet from the morning dew on soft thick grass. I barely had a second to recover my senses before the huge figure of Balthus materialised from the air itself and landed directly to my side. He was awfully pale, still clutching the stump of his knee. I don’t think he had discerned yet that he was out of the chamber and out of harm’s way. He was thrashing with his huge arms at the imaginary force he thought was assaulting him. Scarlet pools of blood ebbed from the angry exposed wound on Balthus’s kneecap.
“Balthus, Balthus you’re ok.” I whispered the words as soothingly as I could but he didn’t appear to hear me, continuing his fight like a wounded animal striving to survive an impossible situation. “It’s going to be okay Balthus.” I promised calmingly. “We’re out of the chamber; we’re out of danger now.” The last words I spoke made me feel like a liar. After all, I was lying we were not out of danger. We were undoubtedly in the most dangerous predicament that could be. The whole of Falinn Galdur was and it was entirely my fault. Whatever the truth of the matter, in this moment Balthus needed reassurance and the least I could do was to offer him some. When Balthus finally stopped fighting me, his eyes opened rolling around in a sporadic manner before finally focusing on my face.
“Violet, your safe.” He smiled weakly; his lips had a bluish tint due to the huge amount of blood he was now loosing.
“Thanks to you and Merl.” I said somewhat weakly myself. Balthus did not answer as he slipped into a worrying state of unconsciousness. I reached out across the grass toward him, touching the tips of his fingers with my own. It was a small comfort but I was sorry, so sorry for what I had unleashed upon him. In that moment, I was so consumed with Balthus’s suffering that I had not even thought to question how and why we were here. At least I hadn’t until I saw Merl somersaulting out of the air in much the same way that myself and Balthus had landed, only touching down with a bit more grace.
“Come on Violet you nincompoop ruddy move yourself.” Merl said. He was urging me upwards, grabbing the soft skin inside my elbow. I winced with pain as my injured shoulder bore the brunt of the force. Merl’s eyebrows rose at my flinching, he gently stroked the blade of my shoulder.
“Gosod.” Fusing and snapping together again, the strength in my muscles renewed giving me new power to try to help Merl with his attempt to lift Balthus but it was no good. Our futile efforts to lift Balthus’s huge form hardly raised him from the ground. He was so heavy that even when he had calmed slightly and stopped thrashing around he was almost impossible to lift physically and without the lower half of his leg, he was finding it difficult to regain his balance. Instead, Merl stepped back and began to lift him from the wet ground in the same magical way he had elevated me on the night at Stonehenge. Balthus, boosted from the ground easily by Merl’s magic, was ascending higher and higher into the air until he was at least a meter above head height.
Suddenly I understood just how we had exited the chamber as Merl spun on his heels several times propelling Balthus in a circular motion in the air, he was spinning Batlhus around like a weightless Frisbee in preparation to throw him once again a safe distance away from Forge Gate. However, Merl was tired and the magic that he had used so skillfully against Agrona was waning. I wasn’t entirely sure how to do it but I decided that I would try to help.
I dug the heels of my feet into the ground, imitating exactly the actions that I had seen Merl take. Feeling the pulses of electricity that Merl was drawing from the earth I decided to add to his by drawing my own. In a peculiar way, the experience was similar to sucking liquid through a straw. I had never channelled as much energy as this particular spell required and it made me dizzy with excitement and adrenaline. I felt my own hands instinctively rise towards Balthus, I began to spin in perfect equilibrium with Merl. Balthus was moving through the air with greater ease now, spinning in circles with Merl and I, he began to reach the speed required to send him off towards his destination. I wasn’t sure how I knew how much speed would be necessary and in the same manner I wasn’t sure how I understood that we were sending Balthus to Blossomdown. I guessed that by joining Merl’s spell I had somehow tapped deep into his psyche. I had a clear image in my head of the very small patch of garden that was our target for Balthus.
It was Merl’s garden and in it stood a nervous Bettery, folding her hands in the pockets of her flowery apron as she waited anxiously. The moment came to let go, and without hesitation, I did just that. Balthus disappeared into the ether. He would soon be reappearing in the relative safety of Merl’s garden.
Merl turned to me, the look of anger and disappointment on his face hurt as deeply as the look my own mother gave me, one reserved for when I had done something particularly reckless or stupid. I guess on this occasion I deserved this look and the pain it brought more than I had before. I looked at the ground, utterly ashamed and utterly guilty. My actions on this night had directly instigated the raising of the most fearsome witch this land and many others had ever known. I had walked into a trap and now every last drop of, Worlen, Banshee or Bobbin blood that was spilt was not only on her hands, it was on mine.
“I’m sorry.” I uttered ashamedly, it was as useless as it was sincere. Merl turned and began to advance towards the woods. I followed behind.
The first of the autumn leaves had begun to fall from the trees and were crunching under our feet as we advanced through the wood. The night had been terrible, unnaturally cold for this time of year and with no wolves to keep away the sting of the sharp cool breeze, we lay on the edge of the woodland trying to take shelter in the bushes around us. The Banshees had retreated to Thistlewick Castle upon hearing from the fleeing Worlen that Agrona was awake. Forgetting about any wars they may have with the Worlen’s, they now had a much greater and much deadlier common enemy to worry about.
We were at the mouth of the Loch Du when the stragglers of the fleeing Worlens met us. They had been camped at the edge of the loch during the night, waiting for the sun to rise to move again, this wasn’t because they couldn’t move at night. Actually, they had very good night vision and travelled at greater speed than us, they could have easily carried on with their journey around the loch. However, they had decided amongst themselves that to show up in Blossomdown before the sun had risen might cause panic amongst the Bobbins.
Many of the Worlen’s had stories about how they had seen the witch Agrona or about how they had only just escaped with their life from her deadly grasp. I knew this wasn’t true but I didn’t much feel like talking about what I had witnessed in the chamber that night. Merl disappeared as soon as we had met with the travelling Worlens, he hadn’t talked to me the whole journey back. I didn’t try and force the issue. I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue about the injustice. I had tried to help and it had backfired hugely. I could only blame myself for my own rash decisions. Still, I was hugely comforted at the sight of Jestin around a small campfire with Elba at his side.
Elba looked just as ashamed as I felt. The gravity of our decision was weighing as heavily on her as it did on me. Jestin would understand, he knew me better than anyone else did. He would surely embrace me in his reassuring arms and tell me that he knew I meant well, that despite everything he still loved me.
He raised his head from the embers of the campfire that he was watching intently. His usual calm composure was somehow changed when his eyes met mine. He inclined his head in the direction of the woodland, wishing for me to meet with him in the relative privacy of the wood. I followed him without anyone noticing until we were around a mile away from camp. He stood in the centre of the thicket we had manoeuvred our way into. His eyes were red and blotched underneath. During our quiet walk, I had imagined that I would fall into his chest and with the sound of his strong heartbeat against my face and I would know that I was safe again. When I moved in closer
to him, he pulled away. I was confused and hurt, he had never moved away from me before but he did now when I needed him the most.
“What’s wrong?” It was a silly question, there were many things that had happened that could currently be described as wrong, but nothing that I thought would have caused this kind of reaction in him. He glared at the ground for a long time until he finally lifted his head to meet my gaze. I saw only pain in his eyes, the deepest and most intense pain. The redness in them was not fatigue as I had first assumed, he had been crying. He opened his mouth more than once before he was finally able to speak the words he was trying to get out.
”Last night when Merl finally opened the door that yourself and Ebla had cracked we followed you through Merl, Balthus and myself. Merl knew you would be heading for the chamber where the heart had been hidden thinking it would be your best way into the manor so he and Balthus pursued you through the underground tunnels. I however chose to take a route I knew within the manor that would bring me to the old chamber door.” He stopped, running his finger backwards through his black curled hair. The sorrow written across his face worried me deeply. “When I got to the mouth of the door, I recognised a figure there, a figure that was motionless and covered in blood from the royal dagger that had been mercilessly planted within her heart.” his words escaped him now in sobs of pure grief “My mother has been murdered by that demon of a king. With her last breath, she begged me to take my brothers from the manor and so I did. I turned from where I knew you were, from where I knew you would need my help and I took my brothers away from danger.” His grief, now matched by his guilt. I was now the one who needed to do the reassuring. Jestin’s need was far greater than mine.
“I’m so sorry about your mother Jestin, please don’t feel guilty that you saved your brothers. You did the right thing.” They were only words, they could do nothing to soothe his grief and pain but they were all I had. I tried to move in closer to him again. I wanted to hold him, to comfort him but he moved away from me.
“Violet stop. Don’t you see your misguided affection is torture to me?” He had stopped crying now he was angry even.
“I don’t understand.” I whispered. I knew what was on the tip of his tongue, the next words from Jestin’s mouth, were going to break the heart that Agorna so desperately wanted to take from me. She could never know that it was not mine anyway, it belonged to Jestin from the moment we met.
“I am the head of the Worlen army, my queen is dead, my king has deserted and my people need me. I cannot allow myself to be distracted any longer by emotional attachments. I must, in this time of great need fulfill my duty to my people. I’m sorry Violet but nothing more can take place between us.” I could tell by the new tone that had crept into his now business-like and dispassionate voice, he was trying to emotionally detach himself from me. He walked out of the thicket leaving me to fall to the ground. Silent tears were meandering rivers upon my face.
Somehow, I managed the journey back to Blossomdown. Somehow, I made one-foot move before the other on the lengthy crossing around Loch Du with the Worlen camp. They could have run towards Blossomdown and gotten there in half the time it took with Merl and me accompanying them. I think the general feeling was they were more likely to be accepted with Merl by their side. I talked to no one although as I plodded along the wet ground I overheard many whispered conversations about how Prince Idris had fled with the Princess Dahlia. They had retreated to Thistlewick when the chaos had begun. The truth about King Alphus was also rife around the Worlen camp. Many of whom had suspected him of such treachery since the days the queen had been locked away by Agrona, or so they said.
I didn’t see Jestin, Merl or Elba for the whole of the journey home, purposely staying at the very end of the travelling party. I was too cowardly to endure the pain that any of their presences currently evoked within me. I simply didn’t have the strength to face any of them. So I was trying to blend in with the crowd although I’m sure I must have seemed either ignorant or mad to my chosen companions.
We finally reached Blossomdown after almost three days of travelling. Mayor Wilmot was in emergency mode again, after being warned about the volume of Worlen refugees she would be receiving.
When I managed to find Bettery, she was trying to look on the bright side stating that it would be a happy occasion for the Worlen children who would get to see their mothers and fathers again. I tried to mirror her optimism but all I could manage was a meagre smile and so instead, I chose to retire to my observatory room overcome by heartbreak and defeat.
I lay on the bed for hours staring into the twinkling stars that beamed down on me, they still shone their brilliant light unaware that loving sons had just lost their mother and that, however indirectly, it was my fault. I wished I had never opened the gate that night. That I had just let the Gnarl defeat me, it would have been for the greater good, for Deltrina, for Jestin, for Solomon Dixon, for Dahlia and for Balthus who’s howls of grief were now filling this early autumn night with a thick atmosphere of loss and devastation. I put the soft duck down pillow over my head trying to block out the world and sometime between late afternoon and midnight, I drifted off to sleep.
I woke with Merl sat in contemplation at the end of my bed. His aged eyes were surveying me with curiosity.
“I wondered myself how it is you have come to look so much like my Gweniveev. It seems the resemblance is so uncanny that when Agrona first saw you she seemed to think Gweniveev was revived again.” He stated calmly. I thought back to the chamber, remembering when Agrona had seen me she was as shocked as she was dismayed. I banished her from my mind, even to think of her I began to feel the same sense of permeating darkness that I had felt in the chamber.
“I guess Gweniveev would be as disappointed in me now as you are.” I said solemnly.
“I think not, you see Gweniveev was the wisest soul I have ever known. Much like her mother she was infinitely kind and astoundingly forgiving.” Merl smiled “She would have understood that it was the goodness in you that took you to the chamber the other night, she would have reached that conclusion in much less time than it has taken me. Violet, you are the only family that I have. I cannot afford to lose you to reckless behaviour, it would destroy me. However, you have been in pain and being so connected to you, I can feel the hurt that cuts into your heart. I find I have absconded from my duty to keep you healthy emotionally as well as intact physically. Can you accept an old nincompoop’s apology for the way he has treated you in the days that have passed?” Merl was looking away from me now. Knowing how stubborn he was, to apologise was very difficult for him. I nodded and for the first time in the past few days managed a genuine smile.
“So what now?” I asked.
“With the rising of Agrona, Falinn Galdur has entered an era of the greatest darkness its people have known for a long time. Shall we see if together we cannot conjure some light?”
Epilogue
Agrona
The Chamber
As the burning molten light crumpled away from her face, the witch Agrona took a strained breath. Her skin was cracked and red as the pieces of the now waning charm, melted away. Her furious face, stuck in place by the light-charm, returned to its usual measured equilibrium. Only her grey blue eyes gave a glint into her maniacal soul but she held no-ones gaze long enough for them to bear witness to it. The girl had seen it, the heir that looked so much like the wretched Gweniveev. Agrona’s lip curled at the thought of both Gweniveev and the girl. One was dead; one was soon to be so; at least the girl would make for a much easier target than Merrydian. That was a satisfying thought. Still it was troubling that the girl had seen inside. When they touched, the girl had witnessed deep into her soul, which was curious to Agrona. It was also another reason the girl needed to be eliminated from this world.
Agrona thought about holding the girl’s warm wet heart in her hand, the blood staining the creases in-between her fingers. The copper smell and refreshing metallic taste made her
hunger for it. She would not hold it for long of course, it was far too precious to be exposed for long but she would take joy in killing the girl now she was older, wiser and a more experienced murderer. Lying dormant for so long, she had not only been trapped in the stone tomb but also in her own mind. She was consumed by dreams of vengeance and murder; they had been her dominant thoughts during her extended slumber. She would savour the moment of death, taste it, and breathe it in. All those she killed belonged to her, especially her magic kin. She still felt their presence from time to time. It was sickening; they filled her with emotions that she had long since let go of. Simple emotions like enthusiasm, optimism and joy. They were merely sparks of feeling, like a sudden flash of light that is there and then gone again in a second. The unexpectedness of their intrusions was unsettling to Agrona. Sometimes when they hit she would feel almost human again, almost. Then the darkness within her would consume the light and she would once again be at peace. She felt one of these temporary lapses in the chamber when she had come into contact with the girl. It was Gweniveev’s presence distinctly. It was curious and had put her off her stride allowing Merrydian to strike her with the light charm. No matter, she would not be defeated so easily again. Malice, indifference, and cunning were her greatest allies in her youth, in times of light they cast her heart back into the shade she needed to shelter in. She would use those emotions wisely next time she was attacked, embrace them, and bestow them upon herself once again.
She felt a keen burning sensation on the cracked skin of her hand. The darkness rose, how could she have come away from the fight so damaged?
“Novo.” She spoke the word aloud and it renewed her flesh to its previous pale tone and smooth texture. The damage was gone but the fury raged on within her, it burnt a midnight black.
In this moment, Agrona tamed the darkness within her. If she let it out, she may well eliminate her entire army. A killing spree might fill her with a temporary sense of elation but she would regret it later if there were no Gnarls to do her bidding. No, she needed to be collected in her approach. To be patient in her quest, sooner or later the girl would come to her.
“Sion!” She commanded. A small and elderly looking Gnarl pushed his way through to the front of the crowd. Stopping, he bowed as low as he could possibly get toward the ground.
“Yesss misstresss?” He asked, overjoyed that he had been the first one called in the mistress’s service after all the years that had passed. The other Gnarls eyed him dangerously, they were jealous and he would pay later.
“Do the Ogres and Spinners still reside in Cragsley?” Agrona asked.
“Yesss misstresss, we believe so.” The ageing Gnarl replied.
“Then go to them, tell them that the only true queen of Galdur has awakened. Tell them to pledge their allegiance or die pitifully.”
“Yesss misstresss.” The dutiful Gnarl began to make his exit but one voice in the crowd spoke out. An army of furious Gnarls were growling angrily in the direction of the unwelcome voice. Gnarls were creatures of low intelligence and even lower morals but it was tantamount to blasphemy for a Gnarl to speak in the presence of the mistress without being spoken to first. The baying crowd pushed the bold Gnarl to the front, scratching and biting at him as he went. Restraining his arms with a piece of rope one Gnarl took from his black robe, they threw him at the feet of the mistress. His face hit the hard stone floor with a thud and the other Gnarls erupted in a collective spurt of delighted laughter. Most of the Gnarls calmed quickly when they could see that the mistress was not at all amused, still they could not help the gleeful smiles that plastered their faces revealing rows of vicious bladed teeth. They loved to watch a public execution and this one promised to be particularly gruesome, not one of them had ever spoken without being spoken to by the mistress before.
Agrona kicked the now bleeding Gnarl over from front to back with her foot; she wanted him to face her. She could have manoeuvred him magically of course, but she liked to inflict pain, it was a great source of pleasure for her. As the terrified Gnarl winced with pain, she felt a sense of joy flutter in her stomach, the way that young lovers would describe feeling when in one and others presence. It was true that Agrona was in love with the pain of other beings and the power it gave her.
“What did you say my little fellow?” She asked darkly. She was curious as to what was so important that this Gnarl had risked his life to point it out. The Gnarl winced and threw one bite-ridden arm over his broken ribs.
“Pleassse misstresss, I ssaid that the sspinnersss would not betray their queen.” The Gnarl hissed. Agrona’s eyebrows reached the top of her forehead in surprise. Had the Gnarls become a little detached from her because of their long absence from one and other? Surely not, the rest of the crowd seemed as shocked by the injured Gnarls statement as she did.
“And why do you think such a foolish thing?”
“Pleassse misstresss.” The Gnarl repeated, knowing that a terrible death was imminent.
“WHY?” Agrona screamed. The other Gnarls began growling again much like loyal dogs attacking as their owner did, they smelt blood.
“Because if they love their queen asss much asss we love you, they will not betray her.” The answer surprised Agrona. It was an angle she had not considered and the flattery was not wasted on her.
“Sion!” She called again changing her plans. Sion shuffled forward nervously.
“Yesss misstresss?”
“Go to Cragsley, recruit the Ogres and bring back with you the queen of the spinners.” She smiled at her own cunning as she kept her eye on the Gnarl at her feet. Sion shuffled off recruiting five other Gnarls for the mission on his way out.
“ALPHUS!” She bellowed. A bruised and swollen Alphus stepped through the crowd.
“My love.” He answered bowing his head dutifully.
“Bring me your mightiest Worlen soldier. I am in need of a very brawny warrior.”
“Yes, of course my love but whatever for?” Alphus asked. Agrona’s face turned from self-satisfaction to vexation.
“HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME, BRING ME A SOLDIER IMMEDIATELY.” She screamed. Alphus slunk off like a naughty child before returning promptly with a huge Worlen boy. He looked around eighteen in human years, much longer for a Worlen but this boy was still an adolescent despite his magnificent stature. The boys eye’s widened as he approached Agrona, his lips trembled with fear and sweat began to form in tiny beads upon his brow. Agrona smiled inwardly at the effect she had upon the terrified boy, he ought to be afraid she thought, after-all he was in the presence of greatness. Alphus used the sharp sword he had pointed at the boys back to force him to his knees in-front of Agrona. The boy’s lip curled in disgust at being positioned so close to the injured Gnarl next to him.
“How beautiful you are boy, what is your name.” She ran her fingers through his auburn hair. He winced; he had felt the darkness too just like the girl in the chamber. Agrona took a satisfied breath, she was glad that she still had this effect on other beings; it was an interesting part of her power.
“Pactus.” The boy answered. His crystal blue eyes filled with fearful tears.
“Pactus hmm, you smell of fear. It is divine.” Her eyes widened in excitement. She kicked the Gnarl again. “And what is your name little fellow?” The wording of the question seemed innocent but it was spoken with malice.
“Kazimir misstresss, my name is Kazimir.”
“Well Kazimir, you were a naughty little fellow, you spoke out if turn and you must be punished. Kazimir winced at her words, expecting to feel the burning agony brought by Agrona’s dark magic but he did not, not for the moment anyway. “You will be punished Kazimir, you will also be rewarded. You have inspired me; I have not been inspired in a very long time. I have seen something within you little fellow that can be of great use to me. Take Pactus’s hand Kazimir.” She commanded. The obedient Gnarl did as he was instructed. Pactus could not hide his disgust as he used his mighty muscles to wrench his hand aw
ay. “That was not very kind now was it Pactus?” Agrona laughed, she waved her own hand toward Pactus and his arm responded by moving him against his will toward the Gnarl. Pactus was terrified and confused as his broad arm rested along the much smaller shoulders of the injured Gnarl. The pair almost looked like they were embraced in friendship. It was only the revulsion on Pactus’s face that gave away the horror he felt at being so close to the Gnarl. Agrona lowered the top half of her body so that she was now face to face with the petrified Pactus. Smiling pleasantly she whispered into his ear ‘devoro’ before stepping away to admire her work.
The pain Pactus felt was both instantaneous and excruciating. He felt as if a thousand knives had pricked every muscle in his body and now the content was slowly draining out the same way that a cut would bleed.
“Mother, mother please.” He begged hopelessly. Agrona laughed harder.
“Oh I am not your creator sweet Pactus, I am your destroyer.” Pactus was not the only one screaming in pain, Kazimir also began to writhe in terrible agony. Unlike Pactus who was deflating, Kazimir was growing monstrously bigger. As his muscles grew to grotesque proportions, the snapping sound of his bones had the crowd of Gnarls jumping around in joy. The show their mistress had put on for them did not disappoint. They clapped appreciatively as the wretched Pactus took his final breath, his frame much distorted by the curse Agrona had cast upon him.
What had been a strong and sinewy boy was now nothing more than a skeletal frame, its hair falling to the floor as the skin hung loosely from the bones. The dead eyes wide with panic and pain, betraying the final agonising moments of the boy. Agrona looked into them with equal deadness.
“Take it away Alphus.” She commanded. The figure was now so decreased that Alphus, who clearly was not impressed by Agrona’s command, took his long sword and balanced the remains on the end as he took them from the chamber. “Now Kazimir, arise.” The spell that had taken so much from Pactus had given it all to Kazimir. He arose as a foreboding Gnarl triple the size he had been moments previously. The bones in his neck cracked as he moved his head from left to right trying to gain a feel for his new enormous mass. He threw his arms out heavily and smiled at the crowd of Gnarls, who stared in wonder and terror at their supersized peer. “Who would like to bite Kazimir now?” Agrona asked as the stunned Gnarls looked on. Not a single one of them responded. “Your silence is wise my pets, he is your new General, obey him as you would obey me.” She instructed.
As Agrona walked from the chamber the crowd of Gnarls parted respectfully, Kazimir being careful not to cast his mistress into shadow walked a few paces behind her. As she reached a hidden doorway in the chamber wall, another optimistic Gnarl also spoke out of turn. Agrona turned on her heals, her eyes looked wild with rage.
“Who was that?” She shouted across the crowd.
“It wasss me misstresss, I was wissshing you safe journey.” A rather chubby Gnarl responded enthusiastically. Agrona looked to Kazimir who seemed to read her thoughts. He went over to the outspoken Gnarl and placed his hands around the other Gnarls neck. Turning with seemingly little effort the other Gnarl’s neck snapped viciously and his callous attacker threw him to the ground. Agrona grinned, impressed by her new General.
“Come Kazimir, you have an heir to hunt.” Kazimir smiled maliciously.
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