Figures in the Dark

Aniah got a good look at the prisoner’s face for the first time, laying on the floor as she was. The kicking had momentarily stopped and she dared to look up. The half-dead man had somehow managed to turn his head and was staring at Aluri with brilliant green eyes. Aniah watched him dully, wondering how there could still be so much defiance in those eyes.

Aluri’s attention shifted to the pathetic form as well, giving Aniah’s breath a chance to return to her. She gasped it in gratefully, still curled in on herself. Her mind was muddled and dazed, both from the shock of the brutal beating and her futile use of Will. It was akin to how her body would feel if she had repeatedly slammed herself against a brick wall in the hopes of knocking it down.

Despite all this, her attention was drawn to the prisoner. The Delani held him in a strangely intimate pose, the boy sprawled across his lap as he knelt. However, his posture and expression betrayed no emotion. The young man still watched Aluri, his expression grim. His face and hair were filthy, stained with blood and muck. His body was emaciated and broken, so covered in bruises it was hard to determine what discoloration was injury and what was just grime.

But something about his eyes…

Suddenly, he let out a rasping scream. The sound was horrid, like a wounded animal letting out its final cry. Aniah managed to get to her hands and knees and scramble away, feeling her ribs and side cry out in agony.

A sharp crack split the air. She flinched again, turning to the sound. Aluri stood, clutching his chest. Aniah thought she could see a faint stain of blood seeping through his shirt beneath his fingers.

And then he was consumed by fire.

Aniah screamed, trying to scramble towards the door. However, she felt something give inside her, as if one of her ribs had shifted. She gasped in pain, nearly blacking out. She squeezed her eyes closed, breathing deeply, afraid to look. Tentatively, she lifted her shirt, fully expecting to see white bone jutting from her skin. It wasn’t so bad. A strange protrusion indicated that all was not well, but at least she hadn’t been impaled by her own bone. Or, well, ex-paled?

And…she was getting delirious.

She looked back towards Aluri. Except…there was nothing to see. The fire had burned away, leaving nothing, not even bones. She gaped, stunned and horrified. Bile rose to the back of her throat.

What, you would prefer to see a charred skeleton? How would that be better? She shook her head. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

“You still live.” Aniah looked towards the Delani, feeling a spike of terror. However, he wasn’t looking at her, but at the man. “After all you did.” The Delani’s emotions were impossible to read. Was he surprised? Displeased? Excited? Apathetic?

“This is new,” the Delani continued. “You must live.” He gently set the man on the ground then stood, looking at Aniah. “But she is not needed.” He raised an empty palm towards her.

***

Jistan groaned. He was moving in a distinctly odd way, his body flopping in a strangely rhythmic pattern. He opened his eyes to see someone’s upside down back. It took his mind a moment to orient before he realized he was slung over someone’s shoulder like a bag of animal feed.

“What the Flames?” he moaned.

“Jistan?” Karrin’s concerned face popped next to him. She was bent over with her head tilted to the side to see his face. “Wraiths, kid, are you alright?” Her normal flippancy was gone, replaced with genuine worry.

“Put me down,” he muttered groggily.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Karrin said, shaking her head.

“I’m fine,” he protested, holding his head up to glare at her. He started to squirm, pushing against his ride’s shoulder. He could tell now it was Sackrin.

Sackrin let him down gently, as if he were a piece of glass. Jistan put a hand to his head as his vision spun for a moment.

Jistan steadied himself, glancing around dazedly. “What-what happened?” he asked.

“You knocked out most of the soldiers,” Sackrin said, voice strangely hesitant. “We interrogated one that was still conscious and he revealed that temporary prisoners are kept in the basement of this palace. That’s where we’re going now.”

Jistan glanced around. “What about the other woman?”

“Injured, but fine. She took a gash to her thigh that won’t allow her to move quickly enough for us. She is hiding in an empty room for now.”

Jistan felt instantly relieved. He didn’t really know this Narissa, but he had been worried nonetheless.

Then he frowned. “Why was it worth it to take me, but not her? I was completely unconscious.”

“Overexertion of Will usually has very fleeting effects,” Sackrin explained, beckoning to indicate they should keep moving. “We figured you would wake up quickly, and we will need your help.”

Jistan frowned. He was the least experienced member of the group and had proven himself to be a liability numerous times. “Not to sound self-deprecating,” he said slowly, “but why would you need me?”

Karrin gave him a flat look. “You just took out over a dozen people in a single mind strike. I can’t possibly imagine how that could be useful.”

He flushed.

“Son,” Sackrin said, shaking his head. “Someday you’re going to learn to see your strengths and not just where you lack. You have earned a place among the Mind Scythes, and that is no small feat in and of itself.”

“Yeah,” Karrin said. “So stop having a pity party and let’s go kick some Kriton bootie.”

Jistan gave her a suffering look, to which she grinned broadly.

***

Joree watched in horror as the man lifted his hand towards Aniah. He had no weapon or the strength to use one. The strange ability he had to use Will hadn’t affected this creature. There was no way he could stop what was about to happen.

So, of course, he tired anyway. He threw his body forward in an awkward, painful flop, grabbing hold of the creature’s ankle and yanking. He was weakened and dazed, but the move was unexpected enough that it caused the man to stumble and lose concentration.

“Run!” he croaked. Aniah looked stunned. “Run!” he repeated, more urgently. She shook her head as if to clear it, then started to scramble on hands and knees towards the open door. She moved painfully slowly. She wasn’t going to make it.

The man kicked Joree in the face. He grunted, losing his grip on the ankle and falling limply onto his back. He turned his head to watch as the man raised his hand again.

Something moved in the dark corridor behind Aniah. As a wave of energy shot out from the tall, unnatural figure, something leapt out of the blackness.

Suddenly, Aniah was hidden behind an enormous silvery shield. The force of the man’s blast caused her and whoever had jumped out to protect her to fall backwards, the shield ripped free. Fortunately, it had been enough to shelter the humans from any real danger.

Aniah’s savior, a tall, older man, jumped up with alacrity, unsheathing a wicked looking blade. Behind him, flickers of movement indicated he was not alone.

The creature didn’t even hesitate. He raised a hand, no towards the older man, but out to the side. To the wall. A massive wave of energy shot out from him, blasting a large hole in the wall. Without a pause, he dashed out through the hole, ignoring pieces of falling rubble still crumbling around him.

Joree let himself go completely limp, too tired even to feel relieved.

***

Jistan supported the Heiress with an arm wrapped around her back. She limped along beside him, a glazed over look on her face. She occasionally muttered something unintelligible to herself, clearly in shock. Sackrin carried the other person, the man who looked more like a hunk of meat than a person, over his shoulder. Karrin had gone to retrieve Narissa while the rest of them made their way slowly to the kitchen.

Sackrin started to lead them down another corridor, but Areniah grabbed Jistan’s free arm in a vice-like grip, her fingernails biting into his skin. Lucidity had entered her eyes for the first time.

“Not that way,” she hissed.

Sackrin paused, turning to look over his shoulder at her. “This is the direction of the kitchens, yes?”

“Oh, you’ll reach the kitchens this way,” she said, a hint of arrogance creeping into her voice. “But you’ll have to walk through the King’s conference chamber to get there.”

Sackrin’s eyes widened briefly. Then he smiled. “Perhaps…you would care to lead?”

She nodded curtly, then pointed. “This way.”

She took them in a frustratingly circuitous route, claiming it would be unlikely for them to run into anyone. Jistan didn’t question her. Not out loud, at least.

They finally reached the kitchens just as horns began to blare.

“Oh dear,” Sackrin muttered. “I was hoping to be out of the building before this.”

“We’re almost there,” Jistan said urgently, increasing his pace, practically dragging the girl along with him.

They stormed into the dark kitchen. No cooks or servers were up at this hour.

“Karrin?” Jistan hissed.

“Here,” someone replied from the shadows. “And Narissa too.”

“Let’s go then,” Sackrin said.

“What about my son?” That had to be Narissa.

“I think we have him,” Sackrin said gruffly. “At least, we have a young man who was being held prisoner.”

“Let me see him,” Narissa said urgently. “Where are the lights?”

“No time,” Sackrin replied. “We have to go now.”

Narissa protested, but Jistan could tell by the shuffling noises and faint hints of movement that Karrin was dragging her away.

They burst out the back door into the cold night air.

A group of guards was waiting for them.

***

The guards all jumped into motion, crying out in Kriton. They clearly hadn’t known where the intruders would be. There were probably guards at every stairway inside and every palace exit.

Narissa felt a spike of alarm. In the faint starlight, she could see that Sackrin was carrying an unconscious form over his shoulder. The other young boy was supporting Aniah, who clutched her abdomen as if in pain. Narissa’s own leg, although not too dangerous, made her very slow. They were not ready for a fight.

Sackrin laid down his burden-less gently than Narissa would have liked-and stepped forward, drawing his sword. His two young companions stepped up to flank him on either side.

Narissa quickly counted the dimly lit guards. Ten. Ten against three, and those three had to worry about defending two wounded kids and an old lady. Not good odds.

Or so she thought. The three lunged into motion in near unison, and in the darkness she could barely make out their movements. They moved with incredible speed and coordination, shoving the guards back with cries of surprise and a couple shrieks of pain.

Narissa took the opportunity to limp over to the young prisoner Sackrin had been carrying. He was bloodied, bruised, and filthy, but she would recognize that face anywhere. She let out a sob that was a mixture of relief and anguish. What had they done to him?

She looked back towards the mini-battle. The trio was still holding its own, but the guards had managed to regroup and begun to push them back. Three guards had fallen that she could see. It wasn’t enough.

Narissa frantically started shoving out mind strikes at the opponents. She could see them stumble briefly, but she had never been particularly strong. Not in comparison to the true masters, at least.

Aniah had slumped to the ground against the wall, eyes closed. Narissa couldn’t tell if she was still conscious or not.

Narissa turned back in time to see someone stab Karrin. Narissa couldn’t tell where exactly the sword penetrated. It could have been her shoulder, or it could have been somewhere more fatal. Narissa’s despair rose.

Something zipped through the night air, nearly invisible in the darkness. It landed somewhere in the midst of the fighting figures. It was followed by another object, still moving too fast for Narissa to make out. This time, though, she saw it as it struck the neck of a Kriton. An…arrow?

Those shots were followed by two more, dropping two guards in quick succession. Narissa tried to find the source of the shots, but a nearby lantern made it difficult for her to see out into the shadows.

The shots turned the tide of the skirmish. In moments, all of the guards were down, dead or incapacitated.

“Who in Arkadia’s Flames was shooting those arrows?” Sackrin demanded. The velching man didn’t even sound winded.

A small, thin figure stepped out of shadow and into the faint illumination provided by the tall lantern. Narissa’s jaw dropped.

“Lanae?” she cried, then clamped her hand over her mouth. Shouting was likely unwise.

“Ah,” Sackrin said. “Your young companion. And our second tracker, I assume.”

“Um, guys,” Karrin said through gritted teeth, holding a hand to her shoulder. The young man was removing his coat. He pushed her hand away and started to wrap the wound tightly. Karrin kept talking. “Hate to break up this reunion, but we should really get going.”

“Right,” Sackrin said. Alarm horns still blared. “Right.”