Like every other beginning, it started with one day. One day, where the sky was clear and blue, till it wasn’t. An unnatural darkness seeped in—over the skies West of Windel. It crept to east, with foreboding movement. It would have shrouded the whole village, but was constrained at the village center—the border between the east and west. And so it was, all the land West of Windel; became engulfed by deep darkness, but East Windel had the gift of light.
From the darkness came — growls, howls and hisses — and things with red eyes, white serrated teeth and claws; some prowled, some slithered. They were predators, and everything, not in the same manner as them, in the darkness, became prey.
The screams of children, women and men — scattered through the air; tossed to and fro—by the bizarre wind that had invaded with the darkness.
Fearful; many ran into their homes, and drew up protection sigils upon their walls. Desperate; others ran to the east, for they saw the light on the horizon. They never made it.
One day passed, and another trailed after it, till it became a week.
The darkness didn’t let up, rather the howls of the things, which prowled the dark night, tormented those hidden behind the four walls of their home. Then on a day hoped for, light pierced the sky of—West Windel; manifested as letters —from thin air— in every home; addressed to all who had taken refuge behind closed door, and it said, “Wait, help is coming.” It was signed by the Magi Greaves. The light in the sky was consumed, and once again—darkness became king; but hope, now burned bright white in the hearts of all, who were trapped.
***
Windel had been a peaceful town, until the shadow creatures come to light. No one knew where they had come from, or who had summoned them. But even with her limited knowledge, Triss knew; the black gate must be open, before all things black and dark could walk under the light.
“I’m hungry,” said little Kala.
“Hold on, I’ll get you something to eat.”
Triss pushed herself up, and left the room that had four bare mattress. The only source of light was a candle half way burnt. It threw gloomy shadows upon the walls, which were littered with childish drawing, whenever the little ones —under her charge— walked past it.
She left the door ajar, then made her way to the store room; wherein, she found Gerald. He rummaged through a stream of canned soups, he came up empty and cursed. She made her presence known with a soft cough.
Then he said, “We are out, there is nothing left.”
“What of—”
“Gone. Last night. The kids were hungry, I didn’t want to bother you.”
“It’s alright.”
Her stomach betrayed her, when it growled like a dying whale.
“This is madness,” he said.
He picked one of the empty tin can then flung it against the wall, where it made a dull clang on impact. He wasn’t satisfied, because he unleashed a furry of feet strikes at the helpless cans, and the room sang with a clatter of clinks and chinks. And when there was nothing left for him to strike, he released a frustrated cry, dropped to his knees and sobbed. She closed the door behind her, to block in his cry. The illusion; the invincible guardians, must be kept alive.
Triss wrapped her arms around him, and nuzzled against the back of his head. The scent of his wash soap had faded, and the stink of sweat filled her nose. She didn’t mind, neither of them had—had their bath in days, it was a luxury left for the little ones.
“We are going die. No one is coming to get us.”
“The letters said—”
He scoffed, “‘Wait, help is coming’. Well we waited and no one has come.”
The night wind rattled the windows and doors, when it breezed through and around the house, and the distant howl of the night creatures trailed after it; the protection sigil, inscribed on each corner of the external walls, was the only thing that prevented them from bursting through the doors and windows.
“What can we do?” she asked.
“We can leave. If we can get to the barracks—”
Triss detached from him. They couldn’t leave the house. “What about the children?”
“We take them with us.”
“You can’t be serious. We won’t make it past the bridge.”
She rose to her feet, and pointed at the wall, beyond which an oppressive darkness stood guard.
“Have you forgotten the black night,” she said, “the sun has deserted those of us on this side. Those things will pick us off, one after the other.”
“And if we stay, death will take us by the week’s end. One after the other.”
“Or the ones we are waiting for, will come by then.”
“Listen…”
She lost the argument. Nothing she said had convinced Gerald to wait for help. We can no longer afford to he said. Which was why she found herself scavenging through the basement, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. The most important being blessed flame, created in the similitude of the sigils.
It was nothing fancy. All she needed was a sturdy piece of wood, with a nice grip. A piece of cloth, soaked in holix — a ghost blue liquid — which, she would wrap around the upper edge of wood and ignite with a small fire chant. She was not particularly gifted with the powers that came from channeling the Grey source. But bringing a small flame to life, was nothing. She found four piece of wood, roughly sixteen inches long, but Gerald had to trim the handle of two; because, two of the older children would have to hold onto them, when they venture past the walls of the orphanage, that had protected them for so long.
“Please Gerald.”
She tried to reason.
He remained unmoved.
“Get the children. We are leaving.”
She summoned them, and they all gathered in the common room. When Gerald explained what they were about to do, she couldn’t tell which tremors she felt; hers, or the little ones who had latched onto her legs.
***
Gerald took lead, with her at the rear. Zara to his right and Libo to his left — the wedge formation he called it. Torch—bearers he called them, who held the flaming wood. The children moved in a packed cluster inside the wedge; together they formed the fold.
Despite the oppressive darkness, she could still make out the world around her.
They marched through the quiet street’s — with deserted homes. Silent, the night was. Not even the chirp of crickets. The noiseless night was a tunnel, which end, showed no escape of light. The wind swept to left, and then to right, and fallen leaves sailed with the motion. The air carried the taint of rotting corpse. Many, had fallen to the prowling things, shrouded by darkness.
They came upon the hallowed bridge; made of ashen bricks; with an arch that let the laminar flow of water pass underneath. Then, the shadow creatures made their presence known.
Their skin was one with the night. Feline things, which stalked them on all fours; having red eyes, hidden among the shrubs. They were frightening, as the first time she had laid eyes on them. The clawed scar along her calf, throbbed in remembrance of the near death embrace of the encounter. Some of the children, who had never laid eyes on them, whimpered at the sight of them. And it enticed the feline things with blood eyes.
“Keep moving,” said Gerald, “they won’t touch us. No matter what, keep your torch steady.”
She wondered how he maintained his composure, while her arm trembled in its place.
The shadowed presence trailed behind them, and became unwanted escorts. For that, she had to rest the torch against her shoulder, so the flame could cast its light behind her, and hold back the black claws — that would snatch her from the fold; all the while, the flame caked her face and neck with sweat, which rained down her chin, and left cold trails down the length of her spine. Her biceps cried, from being squeezed for what felt like hours, and when she looked toward the horizon, she gleamed the radiant light of noon, on the other side of Windel.
The creatures patience — reached its limit. Their placid steps became wild dashes. They zipped past them in packs of three’s and four’s; through the front; behind her; and on the sides; became blurs that disappeared into surrounding shrubs, and then emerged head first, with startling speed and growls; designed to throw them off.
Gerald’s voice kept the children in check until it didn’t. Two blurs crisscrossed by the side of Libo. And just as they faded from sight, another swooped in with angry and frightening snarls. Libo flinched and the torch stumbled off his hand.
It was quick — Libo dragged across the ground as he trashed about; silent — his dying scream wasn’t.
~
Three more were lost from the fold, before order was restored, and Zeno became the next torch bearer.
Afterwards, it just wasn’t the growls of the shadow dogs and wolves — Triss contended with. But the tiny growls and rumble that left the children bellies.
“I’m hungry,” said one, and then others chimed in. It was music, the kind that drove one to madness.
“Silence,” said Gerald, “you will eat when we get to the other side.”
The journey continued along overgrown pathways, and she kept looking at the horizon; the promise of light made itself known as a distant flare, and she craved to feel the heat of the sun once more. She looked up, and wished to escape the darkness, as quickly as possible.
It wasn’t long; for though the light was unseen, it shined on them with hidden rays — when they came upon a plantation, which belonged to Edgar Woods.
The yield period had passed in the months, wherein, she was trapped behind the doors of the orphanage. Of this, she was sure. But firmly rooted to the ground, were bananas trees ripe with fruits. And when Triss remembered the golden ball of light, which had being absent from the sky, for what seemed like ages ago; the yellow curved fruit looked like something out of the dream; it was too good to be truth: and it was.
The cries that rang through the fold was a joyful one. After months of canned soups and paste; the thought of eating something fresh, was enough to cast the illusionary light in their dark state.
“Banana,” said a little voice, and it was echoed and repeated through the fold.
“Silence,” said Gerald, but she could hear the relief in his voice.
When the days compounded into months, she and Gerald had to cut back on their daily ration, so the children could have more. Then they relied on the Grey, when they entered a meditative state, in order to preserve their strength and energy.
“Stay together,” said Triss, “we move as one.”
The little ones bounce was visible, as they move toward the trees.
Not more than six paces of clustered footsteps, the cheerful spirit was torn from their bodies, and the cries of devastation riddled the cold air.
It was as though the pervading night decided to give birth: red eyes, which had been unseen, with their limited light range, snapped open, one after the other; blocking their path, in masse, with deep growls, that rumbled through the air.
The creatures proceeded to commit what she could only describe as a human act, designed to be inhumane. For it was outside the behavior of wild creatures: the black skinned things, turned around, and smashed into the trees, and when the trees toppled to the ground, the dreams of stuffed and filled bellies, were dashed with it.
As though they weren’t malicious enough, the vile things stomped over the yellow curved fruits, with their dirt and blood stained paws, turning them to mush, all the while—excited yips left their terrible maws.
They looked like wicked humans in the body of animals. And for a moment, she wondered if the creatures were people who had died; cursed —when they had been alive— to tread the earth after death; on all fours; obligated to answer the call of whoever summoned them from the dark afterlife.
Their misfortune didn’t end there. For an unknown reason, and even if it was known, she had doubts that she would comprehend it. Zeno did the unthinkable.
He hurled the torch, which flame protected them, at the shadow creatures.
A wicked silence descended, but only for a moment. The creatures pounced with vicious glee, and she moved with the feeling of impending doom, for she hoped to cover the blind spot Zeno had created, before the creatures came close.
Gerald moved in to help, as did Zara, but his sharp bark, ‘Zara, stay back,’ stopped Zara in her tracks. Yet, it came a moment too late; claws, dark as night snatched two children from Zara’s side of the fold. Triss never heard their scream.
She defended both positions, by waving her torch in wide arcs, moments before Gerald moved in to assist. A triangle of mad swings, kept the dark things at bay, but they needed a forth torch—bearer. Zeno was no more; in those few seconds of madness, two shadow wolves had pulled him by the arms, and tugged in opposite directions. His scream—short lived, his death—painful.
The sobs and whimpers of the children, were like virgin sacrifice; offered under the starless sky, unto the imposing night god.
Triss heard the shrill cry of Samson — over the rush of blood that coursed through her ears, but gave no mind to it; her attention was centered on the shadow wolves, which napped and jabbed at their vulnerability, and her throbbing shoulder blades, which ached from all the swinging.
But then Gerald gave a startled cry of his own, “Kala.”
And then she saw, with the limited reach of light, little Kala, bundling toward to exiled torch. The wolves—hungry, swift and agile, bounced after her. Not another death she thought.
One of the wolves lunged with outstretched claws, and Triss heart died; but resurrected when Kala leapt through the air, landed on her belly with an extended hand clasped around the torch’s handle. The wolf flew overhead, hit the ground, and then scrambled to its feet. With her hand wrapped around the torch, Kala rolled onto her back and brought the flaming torch to her chest, and the swarm of shadows creatures descended on her, from all corner; and they blotted the view of Kala on the ground.
Triss heart constricted at the sight. Kala was gone, not even a sound, the flame didn’t save her.
There was a blue flash, and the dark creatures were repelled by a watery force.
A dreamy translucent force enclosed Kala, in the form of a dome. Triss gasped, as did everyone. Kala, was gifted.
All eyes were on Kala, and she longer seemed little to Triss. The creatures prowled about the dome, in a deadly dance. Triss dared, and stretched her arm into the dark, and the other held the torch over her head. The creatures gave no heed to her actions; their focus was on little—
No, no longer little.
On Kala, whom she beckoned with a come here gesture.
Kala had thoughts of her own, for she gave her back to Triss, and everyone else; moved toward the toppled trees, where she snatched a complete stalk of banana that had survived the onslaught, and when she moved, the dome moved with her — as its center.
Triss didn’t realize she held her breath her in suspense, until Kala was settled inside the fold. Where the children; those younger and those older than her, latched on her and praised her, as though she was a Saint, who had fallen from the sky.
Yet as Triss gazed at Kala, whose form was all light and ethereal, she might have well being an Angel.
The dome was large enough that everyone fit in. And Triss allowed herself a moment of rest; dropped her torch to the ground, and then nursed her aching shoulders.
She saw his shadow, cast upon the ground by the dome’s light, before he loomed over her.
“She needs to shut her connection to the Grey,” said Gerald, “before it takes its toll on her.”
“She doesn’t know how.”
“Then force it shut,” he said, “I would do it myself, but I lack the finesse and would hurt her.” His eyes flickered to the procession around Kala, and then returned to face her.
“You mean, I’m weaker and couldn’t hurt her, even I used the Grey, at my highest limit.”
Gerald hissed and step closer. “Heavens’ no. Triss,” his palm washed over his face, he looked defeated, “why would you say that? I have never looked down on you. Never.”
She knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that she was weak in comparison to everyone else. That she was—
She killed the train of thought.
Approached and dropped down, by the side of Kala, who was feeding Samson(her little boy) with little bits of banana, which he ate with the fervor of a three year old, while the rest helped themselves, and before long the bundle was wiped clean.
But it appeared Kala was thoughtful.
“Here I saved this for you and Gerald.”
“Thank you.”
It’s wasn’t long, before cries for water echoed through the dome, which she quickly attended to and then returned to the task at hand.
“Will it hurt?” asked Kala.
“Just a tiny bit. You may not even feel it. Are you ready?” Kala gave a positive nod. “Alright.”
It was suppose to be quick, like snapping a bone in place.
With her palm pressed against Kala’s midriff: she directed a surge of foreign Grey, which traveled through the newly formed network. Kala’s awakened energy sensed the foreign presence, and pushed back. Not even an hour, and Kala’s gift was already stronger than hers. Still, she had awakened hers year ago which gave her an advantage. Not much. And she was able to cut off the connection. The push and pull, drained Kala’s of mental and physical energy and she collapsed into the arms of Triss.
The dome washed away, and deep growls remerged from the night.
They were prepared: Gerald had sprinkled burning salt, which sparkled like crystals(angry red and sharp blue) and it enclosed them in a circle. When the last vestige of the dome faded, the wolves thought them helpless, and pounced, and were set ablaze by the reddish blue flame that sprung up in a full circle about them.
“It should hold them, until Kala is ready to move again.”
***
While Kala slept off the fatigue, Triss did the same — but with little success. The shadow creatures poked and probed the circle of burning salt; in a search of a weak point. There was none, except that—it made the fold immobile. And the occasional roar of fire, when one tested too forcefully, denied her a much needed rest.
“The sun has set,” said Gerald, and when she looked over the horizon, it no longer possessed the hue of bright light, but the beginning grey of night.
She wondered, if the shadow creatures could go into East Windel, under the cover of darkness, or was the darkness—which presided over West Windel, a special kind, in which they hunt only.
“Rouse the children. We have lost time, and need to keep moving.”
She didn’t need to; they must have heard Gerald voice, and one by one, they stirred from their light slumber. Before long, they went set and ready. Triss passed Kala the burning torch: she was the obvious choice. And it became apparent when she received the torch. The red flame, sparked by her grey power, was snuffed out. But in its place, a startling white and bluish flame came alive, and it burned bright, than any of the other three, surpassing them in range and power that even the shadow wolves and dogs shrieked away.
“Kala’s flame just killed Triss’.”
As if she needed another evidence. She had felt the girl’s power, and the little ones were not making things easier for her, as their little eye flickered from flame to flame.
“Look. Kala’s the biggest and brightest,” said Jalan, then he pointed, “second is Gerald, then Zara, and the last is Triss.”
The innocent words killed her in a manner it shouldn’t have.
“Enough,” boomed Gerald, “we are leaving. Gather around, torch—bearers to your position.”
He kicked off the salt and their colours died. The creatures snarled—unable to come close. Kala’s flame, was something they were weary of.
The fold moved as one, it was a silent march, but those little words, replayed again and again, killing her a little more, each time.
***
They had being walking for what felt like hours, and whenever Triss looked toward the horizon, a sickening sensation deposited itself in her gut. She looked at Gerald, his shoulder squared and his step unwavering, even the little ones moved without complaint. It appeared no one saw what she saw, or felt what she felt. So she kept quiet; no need to single herself out again.
The journey began to take its toll, and the children began to murmur. They reached a path that was uphill, and when she looked to her right, situated at the base of the hill, was a barn which laid beyond a corn field, and blue sigils lit the up its wall, visible for all to see. It was protected.
“We should rest there,” said Triss, and there was a murmur of agreement
“Fine. But just for a while, the faster we get out of here,” he glanced around, “the quicker we can get our lives back.”
She never had a life to begin with. No parents, no siblings, with only Gerald for a friend. And till this day, she wondered why he hanged around her. She was no one, and had nothing to offer.
She said nothing, but catered the children down the hill, while the shadow creature trailed behind them. With the help of Gerald, she got the barn door open, and a pungent smell invaded her nose.
Even with candle lights at their last leg, it was dark inside. And much of what laid inside the barn was hidden from first sight.
Triss heard a shuffle from inside, and she tensed up.
A young girl, no older than eighteen, emerged from a dark corner, and clutched onto Triss. Her hair smelled like dead rat; her skin—slick with greasy sweat, where their arms met. And when she spoke, “where have you being?” her breath was putrid, “we have being waiting for you.”
The girl could have passed for her a sister she never had, and she wondered if this was how she would have looked if she never left the security of the orphanage, hopelessly waiting for help, as Gerald had put it.
One of the women huddled in a corner, jerked to her feet; moved with weak strides; clutched onto Gerald. Her skin was wrinkled; teeth — yellow and missing quite a few. The aged woman shook Gerald, or at least—she tried to. But she was the one, who suffered the tremors.
“What took you so long?” the aged woman asked. “Our sons have died, and so have our daughters.”
Though the occupants were older, they were worse off, than she, Gerald, and the children had been, back at the orphanage.
A set of quick words, and Gerald, discharged everyone who hurled questions after question at them. The people, thought them the messiahs of the letters.
Gerald pulled her aside, “these people… “
“I know. We can’t stay here.”
“We can’t take them either.”
“I will gather the children.”
“When?”
“I will cast a sleeping charm, and then we leave. “
“We can’t,” Kala startled them, and Triss dropped to her level, “we can’t leave them, they were waiting for us.”
“No honey. Not us. Someone else.”
“Does it matter? We are here aren’t we?”
“It matters,” said Gerald, his voice firm as he stared down Kala. “We can’t take care of them,” his eyes darted from person to person, “and I sense no gifted one here. We will all die, if we moved as one fold.”
“But the dome. I—”
“No!” Kala flinched, but Gerald turn soft, “I won’t place the burden of keeping everyone safe on you.”
“Because I’m small?”
“Triss,” she turned to him, “whenever you are ready, “ and he turned to Kala, “not a word.” And her face became defiant, and Triss had to shield the girl from him.
“Don’t worry she won’t speak,” and she stopped the childish mumblings, by burying Kala’s face in her chest.
“We have to watch over our own,” said Gerald, and she couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince her, Kala, or himself, “we have lost too much already.”
Triss patrolled the barn, looking for anything that could be of use when they left, while Gerald offered the helpless people promises of false salvation. She, Gerald and the little ones, were not the heroes of anyone’s story, neither, where they the promised help, that was to come. They were just children, with the oldest being Gerald, who turned nineteen two months prior.
They were no heroes she told herself once more. They had just chosen a chance of life, against the death that prowled in the dark; against the death that would have plucked them, after hunger and thirst had ripened them for the picking.
They were no heroes. And despite all they had lost along the way, she was glad they left the orphanage, for she was sure they would have turned to eating the flesh of those, whom death first. Cannibals they would have become. Better to die at the claws the night creatures. Than live off the flesh, of children, who called her big sister.
“Are you ready?” asked Gerald.
The word ‘yes’ was on her lips, and just then, like a forgotten memory, the dread that had plagued her mind, while they journeyed, resurfaced from its hiding place.
“Did you noticed anything, while we made our way here?”
“What are you talking about?”
Something had taken root during the past months, after all the adult left the orphanage, with the promise of getting help. Yet none had returned.
Did they get to the other side? She had wondered, and then decide that they weren’t worth the hassle of saving.
Or did they die along the way?
Before leaving the orphanage it was the former, but now that she was in the midst of the black night, she was sure it was latter. Not because, she thought the shadow creatures got them, for the matrons were strong with the power of the Grey, but because of something else.
“By your estimate, how long will it take to walk from the orphanage to barrack?”
“About three hours to fours.”
“And how long have we being walking?”
“Less than that.”
“Gerald,” she said, “don’t be stupid. We started with sunlight visible on the horizon, now its gone,” his eyes shown no recognition of what she was hinting at, and the dread grew, “yet we are no where close to the village square.”
“We just need to keep moving. I don’t understand you; are you saying we should stop or what?”
“Listen. By your own words, it takes about fours hours to get to the barrack, but we have being in the road for more than that, I think.” She forgot the time keeper, when they left the orphanage.
“Oh I see,” relief washed over her, “have you forgotten the children? Our pace is much slower.” And then it plummet.
“No, no, no. Listen, you don’t—”
“Now Triss, I know that—”
She slammed her fist against the wooden column to right, which rattled the unsealed roof, from which dust sprinkled over their head.
“Listen. You brown haired idiot. Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong. No matter how far we go, we’ll never get to other side. Don’t you see. I can’t tell how I know, but it’s like time and space is warped in a very sinister way.”
Her breath came out in heavy doses, but his brown eyes were clueless as ever.
“I know we lost some of children. And I can tell you are afraid; but so am I. But we need to leave. If we stay, we will die with these people.” He spoke as though he was talking to a child, that knew nothing. “So, shove your fears aside,” he said, then placed a placating arm on her shoulder, “and don’t worry, we will make it.”
The thoughts came unbridled.
Is this what happened to the ones who left, and probably the ones who came to help?
Walking but never reaching; destination always in sight, but never within grasp.
They were blinded; everyone was blinded. The shadow creatures were not the only weapon of the dark night. It possessed a much sinister weapon. It made everyone under its rule blind. Not a physical blindness, but a blindness of the mind.
If the shadowed things didn’t get you — you will walk; walk until you walked your life away—away into death. For the space within the darkness was stretched to infinity. It didn’t matter, one could to gleam the sunlight on the horizon. It was a trap. No matter how fast you ran, no matter how long you ran. East Windel would always be out of reach.
She clutched his hand, willing him with everything she had, she even drew on the Grey.
“Do you understand what I am saying?” she asked, and the outer ring of his eyes glowed a brief white, and then he blinked sluggishly, like one who had just risen from slumber, “do you see?” she questioned, “do you see what’s happening?”
“Triss.”
“Yes. I am here.”
He glanced around, “I think… I think something is wrong.”
She nearly cried.
“Yes, yes,” she said, “that’s what I have being trying to tell you…” before she could, utter her next words, the outer rings of his pupil glowed again. This time a pale red, and his visage changed once more.
“Have you cast the charm?” he asked, “we need to leave.”
A sob escaped her lips, and she crumbled to her knees.
“For heaven’s sake, Triss, pull yourself together.”
His voice held no compassion. She took back her previous thoughts, they should have never left the orphanage.
“I can’t handle, this right now, if you want to stay, stay. But I’m leaving with the little ones, with or without you.”
