Dark light, p.22
Dark Light, page 22
part #2 of The Shinigami Tomes Series
“Father . . . Ruin . . . why? Why are you doing this? I thought I would never have had the chance to speak to you again, and yet, here we are. I must say that you have changed. You never had those tattoos before, and . . . and your voice . . . your voice is different. I refuse to fight you. I won’t . . .”
“Hmph . . . You are weak. You have always been weak. You are as much a failure with women as you are as a king! Tell me, Kaze, did you know that in the ancient necrotic tongue, the letter ‘a’ and the letter ‘u’ are actually the same?” Kaze was confused at the weird topic that had been chosen by his long-lost father. “It is too early, perhaps . . . It matters not. I won’t fight you today. Remember the ball, Kaze, son of Ruin! Reversed Black Magic: Shadows Eclipse!” The necromancer king pointed his fingers at the sun, and before Kaze could move, he flicked them. The sun abruptly disappeared, and macabre, pitch-black darkness, in which not even Kaze’s ghoulish eyes could see, enveloped the battlefield. The spell lasted no more than a minute, and once it disappeared, Ruin, Rani, and the unconscious High Lord of Oserin were nowhere to be found.
Chapter 39
Somewhere West of Renegade House – Oserin
The rolling dunes and golden sand were covered with blood and severed heads. The battlefield was littered with lifeless bodies from both fronts. From the broken shields and spears of the enslaved trolls, their bloating viscera hung, drying under the torrid Oserinian sun. Vampires’ skulls began surfacing from the evaporating wet flesh of their foreheads.
What was previously the royal tent was now an improvised infirmary filled with the wounded and dying.
The lost souls of the inhabitants of the Light Capital had been returned to their bodies and were now on their way to the hometown via Drar’s interdimensional portal.
Kaze, wrapped in his necromancer’s cloak, stood in silence. At his sides were two impromptu sick beds; Guruk lay on one and Ulir on the other.
My father is alive? I have thought about him so often, and yet, I can’t even remember what he looked like, unlike my mother. I can still remember the smell of rose oil in her hair when she used to kiss me good night. My father was a great king . . . his tone . . . I am not even sure that who I met on the battlefield was actually my father . . . And then there is that weird thing he said. What was it? ‘The letter u and the letter a’? What could he possibly mean?
“Sire,” uttered a high-pitched voice, awakening the sleepy Kaze from his reverie. Having been deep within the mire of his thoughts, he was caught by surprise.
“Oh . . . hi, Daphne. You are working hard as usual. What is it?” The tired Kaze smiled. He then noticed the frown on the face of the young, worried-looking she-elf. Daphne was a slender white elf who served as nurse to the wounded. She had stayed back at the tents with a few elder vampire and werewolf guards.
“Sire, Lord Simmon desires to speak with you outside,” replied the tiny nurse, who appeared embarrassed as she attempted an awkward curtsy before leaving immediately with the excuse of having to care for an acute attack of sneezing.
“Lord Simmon indeed.” Kaze sighed as he pulled himself out of his seat and exited the tent.
The fresh air awakened the overwhelmingly tired Kaze and was definitely a welcome change from the heavy air, filled with the odour of purulent wounds and cursed rotting flesh, which filled the infirmary.
“We have lost thousands. Those golden-armoured Oak Gods devastated our infantry with their spells and crushing physical prowess,” uttered Simmon in a warm voice as he walked towards Kaze and handed him a cup of juniper liquor.
“So early in the morning . . . and already drinking? No, thanks.” Kaze smirked as the drink that had been intended for him was emptied into Simmon’s mouth.
“What do you expect to drink the morning after a battle? It inebriates the mind, allowing us to cope with the stench of blood and guts which engulfs us, and it helps us forget that so many tried to kill us,” replied Simmon slowly as he tightened the cloak at the nape of his neck. “I never imagined it would be cold this morning. I thought Oserin was supposed to be a hot, dry pile of sand.”
“Well, Oserin is a place of two extremes. There are seasons of extreme cold and incessant heat. It is the way it is.” Kaze sighed. “And as much as I would like to make small talk with you, I must ask whether there is anything important you needed to speak to me about. Daphne said—”
“Daphne . . . she is a sweet. A ripe fruit ready for plucking,” Simmon interrupted, smiling maliciously as he stared at the grey sky above.
“Really, Simmon? So, what do you need?”
“Come!” The Ice Lord grinned, signalling to the new monarch to follow him. “We have found him cowering in a small, rotten log like a stinking rat!”
They walked towards a scary-looking, leaf-less tree, to which a human prisoner had been tied tightly.
“King Niss, this is Frizas Kun, usurper of the Kingdom of Watir and traitor of the necromancers’ cult,” uttered the Ice Lord victoriously as he grabbed the prisoner by his hair and pulled it up, revealing the features of the Kunnis royal.
“Frizas! I should behead you where you stand for the crimes you have committed against the necromancers and the people of Watir.” Kaze sneered ragefully as he stared in disgust at the man tied up before him.
“Kaze, you are the king of Watir. I am willing to announce it to the kingdom, if I must. I beg you . . . spare my life. You are a man of honour. Your family was—”
“Don’t you dare speak of my family before me with that filthy mouth of yours! I will not have you sully their name!” thundered the monarch as the face of the trembling Frizas was reflected in Kaze’s ghoulish eyes. “I will not kill you, and neither I nor the people of Watir need you to give me back my throne.”
“So . . . will you set me free?”
Simmon burst out laughing at Frizas’ naïve supposition. “You stupid fool.” The Lord grinned. “You really think we’d let you go free just like that?”
“Simmon, you traitorous scum!” raged Frizas spitefully in a moment of blind rage.
“I’ll show you who here is scum!” replied Simmon vehemently as flashes of his past life, filled with the evil commands of the Kunnis royal, resurfaced in his mind.
“Simmon, stop! We are not like them! They are savages!” ordered Kaze as he stopped Simmon’s fist from landing on the prisoner’s jaw.
“No, we won’t free you, Frizas, Prince of Kunnis. We will imprison you and use vampire mind-reading abilities to extract every ounce of information you hold regarding Behem and his plans. I lost many good soldiers today, and many will lose their lives in the fights to come. I swear, I will use any intel I can gather to aid them in their battle . . . whatever the cost I have to pay!” Kaze’s voice was strong and powerful. It was a voice which demanded obedience and revealed the true origins of the Niss prince.
“Where . . . where will you take me?” hesitantly inquired the defeated monarch, who now kept his gaze downward, staring at the dirt surrounding him.
Kaze halted, and after a few seconds of silence, a crow cawed above him. “Hmm . . . crows in Oserin? It must be a sign. Regarding your question . . . we are taking you to a familiar place. We are going where it all started. We are going home!”
Chapter 40
Kingdom of Watir – The New World
“Welcome! Welcome to Lilly’s Bloom Inn. Might I be of service?” offered a young dwarf jovially as a man dressed in a coat entered the inn.
“The last time I was here, there was a different innkeeper,” replied the guest as he looked around him.
“A different innkeeper?” repeated the dwarf, scratching his long, spinous golden beard. “Ah, yes, yes. He’s long dead. Something really bad happened here. Would you care for a drink first? You look cold.”
“Yes, yes a drink. But, tell me, Master . . .”
“Master Tianu, last surviving dwarf of the Tianu clan. I am sure you have heard about the proud and fierce Tianu clan,” the innkeeper declared proudly as he poured a good amount of apple cider into two thick wooden cups.
“No, I can’t say I have,” replied the mysterious guest. The dwarf’s look of pride suddenly transformed into one of gloom, which then dissipated after he took a long sip of the sweet cider. “But back to the man who managed this inn . . . You say he is dead? How did he die?” slowly asked the guest, whose face remained hidden by a heavy-looking hat that was tilted forward and bore the mark of a stick and a sword, symbols of the vampire hunters of old.
“Uh, terrible thing that one. The elder from a nearby village told me everything. It is the reason I was able to buy this inn. Such a bargain! And all because the ignorant people of these lands were afraid of the ghosts of the dead ones which lingered in this establishment . . . a bunch of human nonsense, if you ask me!” The dwarf grunted.
“Yes . . . a bargain. But what exactly happened?” pressed the guest as he emptied the golden liquid into his mouth.
“They came in the night with ravenous hunger. They barged into the inn and butchered everyone in it. The innkeeper . . . poor wretch . . . they found him headless, his body half eaten by ghouls, they say. And you should have seen some of the guests! Ah . . . they say there was a pretty she-elf who was killed in the middle of her sleep. The bastard who seduced her left her just before the attack took place. The villagers found her beautiful face resting on the bloodied pillow . . . just the face—nothing else.” The dwarf grunted hoarsely, and the expression on his face turned into a nightmarish grimace as the thought of the severed head flashed into his mind.
The inn was empty, apart from the innkeeper and the mysterious guest. They stood in silence, drinking cider and exchanging brief phrases and thoughts regarding the inn. When the clock struck midnight, the innkeeper inquired whether the guest wished to stop over for the night.
“Yes . . . I am tired. I have secured my horse in front of the barn. Listen, I would like to sleep where the she-elf was found.”
The sudden macabre request of the odd guest didn’t seem to affect the dwarf’s composure in the slightest. He smilingly replied that the room was in perfect shape and was fit to accommodate a lord. “Here is your lantern, just in case your bowels bring you trouble during the night. It gets very dark in this inn, Mr . . .”
The man stood in silence under the inquisitive look of the innkeeper as he replied coldly, “My name is Luiner. I am the brother of the deceased innkeeper.”
“Oh . . . oh my. That is why you were so keen on learning about your brother. Well, if you wish, I can accompany you to your brother’s grave tomorrow morning,” said the dwarf kindly, always maintaining his coolness, thereby revealing the true toughness and emotional equilibrium for which dwarves were famous.
“Yes . . . yes, I would like that, Master Tianu. You know, I have been away for . . . for some time, and I regretted having parted ways with my brother soon after we had a bad argument over who was to inherit our father’s inn. Lilly . . . that was my mother’s name. Did you know that?” asked the vampire hunter warmly as a melancholic smile opened up on his aged face.
The dwarf shook his head as Luiner brought the lantern forward, shedding some light on the dark staircase leading to his room.
“Good night, master Luiner,” bid the dwarf. Luiner nodded and slowly headed towards his room.
Not much had changed since his departure. The creaking stairs reminded him of his days as a young toddler playing there at the inn with his brother. Their father had descended from the first humans, an ancient race that could be differentiated from common humans due to their long lifespans, much like those of the royal Niss and Kunnis bloodlines, whose lives could last centuries. Their father’s father had been a warrior who had decided not to curse his lineage with the same atrocities that he had been forced to witness. And so began the story of the inn—Lilly’s Bloom Inn.
There he was in his designated room as he remembered watching his father build the inn from scratch. But Luiner’s motives for visiting were not rooted in a mere nostalgic wave; they were more prosaic.
I can stop here for three days maximum. I told Galadri that I had to meet with an informer who had intel regarding Frizas Kun. I cannot lose time. I must find the party responsible for my brother’s death. I was not able to live a life with him, and I perhaps dishonoured him when I fled to Blacuir. But that was what I had to do when I chose to become a vampire hunter. After all, it was a vampire who killed our father . . . isn’t that right, dear brother? I shall honour our father’s wish: “An eye for an eye”! For no one touches our family and goes unpunished!
Luiner was lost in a vortical sea of thoughts as he knelt at the foot of his bed. “Reversed Light Magic: Light Memory!” he uttered. Reversed magic was the most advanced level of regular magic, whether it was of the Black Magic or Light Magic variety. It allowed the spell caster to cast more intricate and effective spells, which could be tweaked by each individual sorcerer.
The spell soon revealed its effects. The room filled with the shadows of the past guests until Luiner found the targets of the spell. There they were—the she-elf and her seducer.
“Impossible . . . Kaze Niss? How? Why? Let me go forward . . .” he turned his index finger to the left, and the scenes he was viewing sped up. What stood before him were the shadows of the past . . . the memory fragments of the light which lived in that room. Then, he saw it—the culprit of the massacre . . . a second necromancer, followed by ghouls which attacked the unaware she-elf mercilessly.
“This must be the necromancer who Kaze warned me about. I did not know he’d led him here. This mysterious necromancer is the culprit for sure—”
“BUT,” a dreary voice thundered in Luiner’s mind, interrupting his mumbling. He quickly turned around to face the owner of the eerie voice. “I am here!” A smirking young boy lay on his bed.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” uttered Luiner immediately, readying himself for a fight, as he knew all too well that what lay on the bed in his room was no ordinary boy.
“Who am I?” The young boy, whose long black hair was tied in a knot on top of his head, smirked as a tiny kitten jumped on his belly and began to purr. “I think you know who I am, Luiner, the vampire hunter!” As he muttered these words, a black aura suddenly pervaded the room, forcing Luiner to his knees due to its sheer pressure.
Such a fierce energy . . . and so dark. I can’t even breathe. Were I not who I am, I would already be dead . . . There is no mistaking this mana type. A Shinigami’s! thought Luiner before uttering the name of the enemy of his monarch, to whom he owed his allegiance. “You are Behem!”
“Well done! Very well done!” The young boy, who had now begun to pat the pitch-black kitten, clapped happily.
“How did you know where I was? I don’t think you hold the same power of vision that Lord Aras had?” hesitantly inquired the vampire hunter, knowing all too well that one false move would mean certain death for him.
“Oh no. I hold no such power. I simply knew that you were bound to come here, and so here I am!” A disturbing grin appeared on the young boy’s pale face as he began scratching the kitten’s fur and shaking his head as he stood.
“And what do you want from me? You realise I am fighting to destroy you . . . and we will destroy you!” Luiner had lost his tenacity since Behem had revealed what the vampire hunter understood was but a miniscule portion of his true power.
“Your faith in the man who has caused the death of your beloved brother is truly touching,” continued the Shinigami.
“Kaze did not cause the massacre . . . your necromancer did!” Luiner sneered spitefully, steeling his mind in preparation for his strongest spell yet.
“Hm . . . That is one way to look at it. The other is that were it not for Kaze’s carelessness and lustful mind, your brother would never even have seen those mindless ghouls,” replied Behem maliciously. “His carelessness cost your brother his life. Kaze knew he was being hunted. Nonetheless, he decided to stop at this inn and spend time moaning with an elvish slave!”
“Enough!” cried Luiner. He is trying to plant thoughts in my head. This is no chance meeting. He has no plan to kill me; he wishes to use me against Kaze. Kaze’s latest victory has shown Behem my king’s true strength. To think Kaze caused my brother’s death . . . What an absurd idea! Even if . . .
Behem contained his powerful mana once again, allowing Luiner to remain at ease. “Do you know why I like morphing into this body?” he asked jokingly.
“You are not morphing . . . You have no morphing abilities. What I see before me is but a vision . . . an illusion materialised into this world by an extreme amount of mana. Your real body is probably hiding somewhere in Oserin right now!”
“Wonderful,” came Behem’s response to Luiner’s accurate analysis. “Truly wonderful. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I like meeting faraway creatures in this body. You see, I truly think that blessed creatures are the ones who can feel inside the way a human boy—or girl, for that matter—feels. Naivety, unprejudiced happiness, and a sense of wonder about the simplest things are what make life interesting. I have witnessed enough humans to know that a Shinigami’s life is merely boredom and emptiness. I will change all the worlds, Luiner, with or without Kaze’s interference. Join me. I can grant you eternal life. I can grant you a place in a new, wonderful world, where death is once again fully under the control of the Shinigami Lords and where I can choose to keep it at bay for those who are deserving of that mercy.” Behem’s tone, which had gained hints of warmth and assurance, would have been able to sway even the sturdiest of souls.
“You won’t corrupt me, Behem, seeker of death!” Luiner’s response was short and firm. But deep inside, he knew that his will was vacillating, though his mind was not ready to admit the weakness of his heart.
