"Even in Darkness" Prologue

Prologue:

"The Light and the Dark"

“It all began with the division. The separation of what would become to be known the Darkness and the Light.”

1821, M.E. (Modern Era)

The Great Citadel, Midnight

Light. It was what gave the world life, meaning, purpose. As captain Emmerick Lisan stood upon the massive towering stone battlements of the Great Citadel, his world felt like a cloth covering a lamp, smothering the light that attempted furiously to escape, in vain. The captain simply stood, his mind numb as he watched the futile bloodshed below. Two sides struggling for nothing but power. Sure, each side claimed it was for all noble reasons such as to stop corruption or in honour of the “greater good”. Of course that was nothing further from the truth. They were fighting for their own greed, their pride. And Emmerick, he was a part in it.

He watched as the Wardens of Tarius fought the oncoming armies of the eastern empire; Sarion. The Light fighting against the Dark of the cloth. Except the cloth was not what it seemed. It was not just the enemy. It was all of them. Or rather, all of us. Humanity’s biggest enemy was itself. Emmerick knew this to be true, yet what could he do about it? It was the way of the world. The only way for them to survive was to win this fight, then the next, and then the next.

At present Lynk the “Shadow Bearer” and the people of the Dark were the enemy. They had broken the pact, a pact that had been in place for generations, since the Great War. That pact had been the world’s only hope of peace.

After a crushing religious civil war the evil empire of Sarion had been rejoined under one banner by Lynk, the Shadow Bearer. The civil war had taken a big toll on the nation, however Sarion was slowly regaining its former might. Lynk’s first order as emperor was to begin an all out war against the country of the Light, the Holy Tarian Commonwealth. Even at their weakest, the forces of Darkness were still a formidable opponent. 

You see the most part of the known world was divided in half — a division that had been in place since before anyone could even remember. According to the Creed, the ancient bible of those of the Light, the Creator made the world like that purposefully, for each person to make a choice and take sides in one massive competition of sorts. The Creed stated that when the end times came one side (either the Light or the Dark) that was most faithful and worthy would be granted eternal life in his realm. Other more modern scientific views brought the conclusion that it was just simply two feuding tribes of people that over time progressed and grew into the two nations that existed today, one that worshiped darkness and the other light. The Holy Tarian Commonwealth being the light, and the Empire of Sarion being the darkness. Or the other way around — it really depended on which side you talked to. Yet history could not take away the problem that lay before the people of Tarius. As of this moment legions of the “Dark Ones”, soldiers of Sarion, poured out from the Vale of Sarus, laying siege to the Great Citadel of the Light — Tarius’s primary line of defence. The Wardens were currently engaged with the Dark Ones, who were pushing forwards and beginning to set up rows of siege engines. To the West side of the Citadel, the common people were being evacuated by a smaller teams of wardens, away from the violence. The battle itself took place in the field that spanned between the Citadel, and the Vale of Sarus (which formed a link between the mountainous border of the Eskelon Ranges in the middle of the East and west). One of Lynk’s five main servants Terador was leading the ghastly assault on the Citadel. 

Even after all his years as a military man, Emmerick still grimaced at the grim sight below, cringed at the scraping sounds of metal clashing against metal and crossbow bolts flying through the air, at the shrieking desperate cries of the dying men. Throughout the world’s recorded history their had been many clashes of violence and conspiracy between the two nations of Tarius and Sarion. The last time was most gruesome resulting in the near collapse of both societies. You see both Tarius and Sarion have each a saviour, a Bearer that is supposedly chosen by the Creator each generation (through the holy influence of high priests and on occasion simply passed down through the generations). They are meant to guide each side to spiritual fulfilment, and teach the masses how to be deemed worthy by the Creator. It was in this gruesome war a thousand years before that the two Bearers of that time did battle on the peaks of the Lyre — a monumental mountain well inside the borders of Tarius. They battled furiously whilst the armies of both nations did around them below. In the end the war, which was to be called the Great War, finished in a stalemate, with each side retreating lest they face the dire consequence of extinction. The Light Bearer of the time who’s name was Trine became one of the most influential men to ever live, writing most of the Creed and helping rebuild a new and improved nation of the Light after the war — which he named Tarius. Emmerick knew that the people feared that this assault from Lynk was would result in a similar outcome — maybe worse. It was what they all feared most, a second Great War. 

Emmerick was snapped to attention by a stern, deep voice form behind.

‘Are you ready to leave captain?’

Emmerick turned to see the general of the army, Phillip Redwood, walking up beside him, leaning over the balcony rail and looking on too at the morbid view that haunted them below.

‘Yes, sir,’ nodded Emmerick in a quiet response. Redwood was a good leader and well suited for his job.For a newly appointed army general he did well. Redwood inclined his head to the horrific sight below, then passed Emmerick a small telescope.

Emmerick looked though the telescope, scanning the battle. He noticed the darkly clad men in the distance lining up around twenty catapults facing the battlements.

‘It does not look good,’ commented Emmerick.

Redwood shook his head. ‘No,’ he sighed. ‘Our marksmen are in position, but we aren’t prepared for this,’ he raised his voice whilst wiping the sweat off his forehead. ‘Every time. Every time! They just keep coming. The army is exhausted, most of us haven’t slept for almost three days. There is a moment, a moment you get to, when you start to wonder why we are doing this. I mean, we might have a chance at winning this battle — but we will not succeed in winning the war. Surviving today would buy us five or some years but Lynk will still return with an army even greater. Back in Tereth there is new forms of weaponry in development. Using what they call the “fire powder”. It might give as an edge to Lynk. Bah! It will be years before anything’s ready for the field and by then it would be too late. Any how, we need you to leave as soon as possible — we have men ready down in the basement.’

Emmerick raised his eyebrow. ‘What is it?’

Before Redwood had a chance to reply he looked behind Emmerick, who turned around to see a beautiful and slender, well dressed but not at all delicate young lady walking briskly over.

It was her. Emmerick felt a mixture of joyfulness and anxiety as he saw her — saw the Light Bearer. He fell to his knees, ‘My Lady,’ he stammered. What was the likes of her doing here, at a time like this? People talked about her. She was far more ambitious in comparison to former Light Bearers. 

She walked over to him, lifting him to his feet. ‘There is no need for that, and please, call me Isadora. Now De Chaedan is waiting,’ she said gently, motioning to the man standing behind her. There was a certain air about her that Emmerick picked up instantly. A grace. Isadora was scarcely out of adolescence — just nigh of thirty — yet she had this not just commanding nature but emanated a certain reverence. She was the sort that made even kings automatically fall to their knees and respond with titles such as “my lady’, or “my grace”. 

Louis De Chaedan, the man whom Isadora discussed, was the leader of Tarius’ espionage department — a fine, brave man. He was not just the best at doing his job but made sure he looked the best for it, with his fedora hat sitting neatly on his head that tiled slightly to his left and his well tailored suit. This clearly marked his position. Emmerick had always thought it odd that the Tarian intelligence even in an old fashioned steel-to-steel battle still preferred to use more nondescript garments as opposed to the heavy duty, but reliable, gleaming amour of the wardens.

‘Colonel,’ said Emmerick, giving the customary salute by raising his right hand above his shoulder level to his chin in a horizontal position, palm facing down.

‘Are you ready Captain?’ inquired De Chaedan.

Emmerick nodded. 

‘Good, because we are out of time. The men await.’

Emmerick followed De Chaedan and Isadora down the stone staircase and into the main section of the Citadel. They moved to the second level above, ground where there was a large hall in which an open cart was waiting for them. 

Near the carriage was the masses of people, hurrying to leave the Citadel and following the soldiers down the large wooden ramp. The ramp was approximately ten meters wide, and led down to ground level. The ground level consisted of one basement room with massive blast resistant doors (that were, at the present time, open). From there — outside the fortress — was open fields.

‘I still don’t understand where they can all go,’ said De Chaedan. 

Isadora glanced at the massive exodus of people. ‘In the trees, far away from the fighting. They shall be safe.’

Sitting in the cart were a group of seven wardens, awaiting command.

General Redwood was the commander of the military as a whole, under that there were five legions (not including the intelligence department). They were Fallen Guard, Jade Crown, Ancient Havoc, Trine’s Covenant and White Order.

Each legion consisted of approximately ten-thousand men and was led by a Colonel. Fallen Guard and Trine’s Covenant both protected the state of Whiten (one for the capital, one for surrounds), White Order: Talonia, Jade Crown: Eldor and finally Ancient Havoc: Alacrest. Each warden had the choice of three different classes: Soldier, Marksmen and Ranger. The Soldier suited general ground combat, in almost any terrain. The Marksmen specialised in long distance, mainly acting as snipers or guards. Lastly was the Ranger, a heavy unit which worked well in close combat or taking on large groups of enemies at once. Yes, the warden certainly were a mighty foe in battle, but the shear number of Dark Ones could overwhelm almost any opponent. 

Armed with black crossbows, swords sheathed on their backs and garbed in the usual white gleaming armour and helmets the wardens were ready for their mission.

Emmerick looked at the men in the cart — a few were clearly De Chaedan’s. He recognised one of them, Shandler. Charles Shandler was a young hothead who did have lot’s of potential but often was too impulsive and emotional. Some of the others Emmerick had worked with before on previous missions but their names he could not recall. 

Emmerick sat down at the back of the carriage, De Chaedan not far behind, keeping to his feet.

‘Attention!’ shouted the Colonel, the men responding quickly by salute. 

‘Sir, yes sir!’

‘We have received word that one of Lynk’s loyal servants — Dalivent — has infiltrated Tereth and stolen high priority intelligence that only few including myself and the general have been made aware of the contents,’ said De Chaedan. ‘Because of the nature of this mission the Lady Isadora — whom we all know as the newly chosen Light Bear shall be accompanying us to represent our nation. If all goes well, Isadora is to attempt to reason to reinstate the peace pact with Lynk through Dalivent, possibly our last hope in bringing about peace.’ 

De Chaedan turned to whisper quietly into Isadora’s ear. ‘I hope you have been made aware of the dangers of this mission m’lady.’

Isadora glanced to the side at him. ‘Indeed Colonel. I may not appear to be warrior like, yet I assure you that I can take care of myself.’

Emmerick looked to De Chaedan and Lady Isadora, ‘I’m afraid to ask, but what would be the consequences if this mission were to fail?’

Lady Isadora paused. ‘Well, it would certainly give Lynk one of our biggest tactical advantages. He will have the upper hand in this war; if that is what it comes to. But enough, we must leave at once Colonel.’ 

The Colonel motioned to the cart’s driver, and the horses jolted forward and it started moving down the large ramp. 

De Chaedan sighed, looking to Emmerick, who nodded.

‘Alright gentlemen, you know the mission. Just remember…’ he took a deep breath, ‘Just remember what the stakes are here.’

He looked around at the group. They all had the same look, the look of a man in the face of a most certain doom. Emmerick could hear the muffled screams, the noises from the battlefield outside. Terrible noises. 

‘We… we may…’ he put his hands on the edge of the carriage for support. ‘We may not survive, but this day shall be remembered. We shall be remembered. For the Light.’

Everybody nodded, and shouted his words in unison: ‘For the Light!’

Suddenly there was a loud, deep rumbling noise. They were now at the bottom level of the Citadel, approaching the main gate to exit. Emmerick looked around him, he felt the floor shake, the sound going straight through his very body.

‘It has begun,’ he said quietly, ‘the bombardment.’ One soldier raised his hand and closed his eyes, giving a quiet blessing over himself.

The civilians began to shout, scared. Terrified for their lives.

‘We will be safe here!’ said Isadora loudly, attempting to calm them down.

De Chaedan looked to her. ‘Isadora, they know that it isn’t true. Nobody is safe here.’

‘The bunkers of the ground level have strong impenetrable walls. This Citadel has been built for this. But yes you are right, it is not about the siege engines. The Dark Ones will storm through this fortress and tear it apart inside out. We should have started the evacuations earlier.’

De Chaedan nodded. ‘Once they get to the woods they will be out of harms way.’

There was another rumble as the Citadel was hit once more. All the wardens looked on edge. Shandler held his crossbow at the ready, his fingers twitching. 

‘You alright son?’ asked Emmerick.

Shandler nodded quickly. ‘I—I am, sir,’ he closed his eyes. ‘I am,’ he said with soft resolute.

They had now reached the giant door which led out of the west side of the Citadel and out into the grasslands.

The grasslands stretched for about a kilometre until it was halted by a small, but dense forest. Some of the commoners had already reached the trees. Emmerick just hoped that they could all get to safety before the armies could interfere.

These commoners would not stand a chance, he thought to himself gravely. There were people of all ages; women, children and men, all moving in fear towards cover. One boy Emmerick could see was clutching a newspaper in his grasp. 

“Terror rises and the future grows dim, the wars of the past may very well erupt once more” read the headlines. Beside the title was a dramatised sketch depicting a masked man — a Dark One — fighting a warden.

‘People are saying that the end times have come. That soon the Choice shall be made,’ said De Chaedan, looking to Isadora. ‘They say this is a sign.’

She looked around her, then back to the young spy.

‘Yes. Everything is going much like what was foretold in the Creed. But it is not time yet, I believe. The Creed talks about more than just a battle of betrayal, it talks about a war, a war with devastation beyond comprehension. It says the very sky will be turned to black even in the daytime.’ 

As they moved out of the Citadel he could hear the sounds of the battle even more clearly. Lynk’s armies were now hurling massive, flaming rocks at the walls of the great fortress from their trebuchets. Everything was dark and the only thing that illuminated their path was the glaring light from the burning sections of the Citadel and the torches of the armies.

‘The evacuations are about halfway done,’ noted De Chaedan, observing the scene, his eyes taking in every detail no matter how small. Nobody replied. Shandler rolled over, then turned to face the battle, looking on with alarm. 

Suddenly there was movement, out in the distance between the section where the exodus of people and the battle.

‘What the hell is that?’ Emmerick grimaced, then turned to Shandler, who was pointing out into the grass field towards the battle, where a man in a dark cloak was standing eerily, moving towards them through the mist which had an unusual reddish tinge caused by the explosions from the battle. Shandler appeared to be frozen looking directly at the man in the mist, not daring to take his eyes off him. Emmerick turned to Isadora, who looked worried, then he turned back to where the man was. The man who looked almost like a moving shadow was now running towards them, and behind him more men were appearing. The men wore awful looking ghost-like masks, Emmerick recognise them as Dark Ones: soldiers of Sarion. 

Shandler raised his crossbow. The weapon was a bolt-action, long-range model designed especially for marksmen.

Emmerick put his hand on his short sword, slowly pulling it out of it’s sheath.

One warden slowly got to his feet… Emmerick could see him struggling over the darkly-dressed man’s startling presence.

‘Get back! We will fire!’ the warden screamed. 

The man held his crossbow close to him, ready to shoot.

Nothing. 

Then there was a dull thudding sound and the man was thrown backwards off of the cart, with a long silver bolt (or “needle” as commonly called) sticking out of his neck in between the gap in the armour. The warden fell to the ground in the mud, dead.

Shandler looked carefully down the scope of his crossbow, aiming at one of the Dark Ones oncoming, the one that had shot the warden. He then fired a single shot, taking out one of the men, but this did not make the others hesitate in the slightest, instead they simply ran faster coming towards them.

The enemies were now close to people, running with their weapons out — around twelve of them. The first man Emmerick now recognised as Terador, one of Lynk’s servants.

Isadora now took action as Terador now approached the line of people with the Dark Ones just behind, Isadora jumped off the carriage, her loyal protector not far behind — Emmerick could not recall his name. Emmerick noticed Isadora seemed quite bothered by Terador’s presence. Enraged, in fact. They all knew the stories that were told. Isadora was almost always a quite, calm person. Something had just changed, as she ran towards Terador, her protector not far behind.

Shandler began to reload as they passed the Dark Ones, who seemed to ignore the cart altogether, focusing their attention on the escaping people.

Terador moved towards one particular lady in the line of people who carried a little baby in her arms. The woman seemed to be accompanied by another man, most likely her brother, observed Emmerick. The lady looked familiar, but he could not quite place who she was as her features were obscured by the misty darkness. As Terador approached the lady she stopped moving. The brother attempted to pushed her onward. People began to scream as they saw Dark Ones beginning to come close, backing up Terador’s rear. Isadora ran out in front of Terador, taking out a small sword blocking his path.

Why would he target this lady? thought Emmerick. 

Isadora and her protector fought furiously, her protector attempting to keep her rashness from getting the better of her. It would not be enough. All the masked men, the Dark Ones, were moving towards the lady with the child. The woman started to run backwards, giving the baby to her brother, pushing him forwards. 

‘Elizabeth!’ shouted the brother holding the baby in his grasp, but he was swept away by the push of the crowd, who were hurriedly moving backwards.

Shandler started to reload his crossbow.

‘We have to do something!’ he shouted to Emmerick.

Emmerick shook his head. ‘There… there is no time!’ he said back, putting his hand on Shandler’s shoulder. 

Shandler pushed the hand off, aiming through his crossbow again and pulling back the bolt. He fired killing one, then two of the Dark Ones — however it was a futile effort as the lady was now surrounded.

‘Turn this cart around!’ he screamed, looking to De Chaedan, who shook his head regretfully.

‘There are bigger things at stake here… I’m sorry,’ he shouted over the roaring wind as the carriage sped forwards.

Shandler began to tremble. ‘They will kill her!’

‘There is nothing we can do. If we let Dalivent get away we will all die,’ said Emmerick, who pointed to the people. ‘They will all die.’ 

Suddenly there was a horrendous shriek. Shandler looked back, the lady was dead and Isadora’s protector and Terador were still engaged in most furious combat. De Chaedan looked to Emmerick groaning. 

‘We needed Isadora, we don’t stand a chance at convincing them of a peace treaty without her! They won’t reason with soldiers!’

‘What choice do we have? We must continue! We must at least stop them getting the stolen intelligence over the border!’

The carriage was now veering off to the right, away from the line of people and closer to the battlefield. Emmerick could see up ahead three riders who were following a small dirt path the led back the other war into the forest — the rider in the middle clearly Dalivent. The carriage driver changed direction again, now coming up behind the riders, who were about thirty meters up ahead.

One warden, a Ranger, pulled out a massive automatic crossbow and began to fire upon the three riders. The thin needles sprayed in all directions, some ricocheting off trees. One hit s horses’ leg, going straight through. The horse let out a noise, staggering slightly, but did not give in. After eleven rounds he managed to hit the rider on the left’s horses’ leg enough for it to cause serious damage. The horse collapsed and the rider tumbled to the ground — most likely with some broken bones. The warden continued to shoot at the horsemen — one of them turned around with a small crossbow pistol and fired back. Emmerick ducked as four needles sailed pass his head. As the carriage thundered down the path after Dalivent, Emmerick turned to De Chaedan. 

‘How long do we have before he gets to the border?’

‘Well, after these trees it’s an open field to the mountains and the vale, near three kilometres. Once he reaches the vale it will be too late.’

De Chaedan flipped out a small knife, readying it by giving the knife an elegant twirl. Emmerick raised an eyebrow. ‘This is war De Chaedan. Don’t you want something a little… bigger?’

‘No,’ shouted De Chaedan over the noise. ‘It will do the job.’ 

De Chaedan then smiled, pulling out a pistol, which he held in his other hand. Resting it on the other hand with knife he pulled back the slide and shot a few needles. Emmerick looked back to their target moving up ahead. He turned to Shandler. ‘Take out his horse.’

Shandler changed position and took two shots at Dalivent’s mount, but each time Dalivent moved out of the way at the last split second.

‘Damnit!’ said Shandler, reloading. He then looked again through the scope, other wardens doing the same with their weapons. Five of them began to shoot simultaneously at the mount, this time eventually hitting their target. The horse let out a bray then tumbled over. As the horse fell Dalivent fell also and in one fluid seamless motion. He jumped off the horse and rolled safely onto the ground. His companion reigned in his horse, waiting.

Dalivent got to his feet, then turned to face the cart, unwavering.

‘What is he doing?’ said De Chaedan.

He just stood their, his companion getting off of his horse and taking out a sword.

Just as the carriage was coming towards Dalivent, Emmerick shouted to the driver to stop. They needed him alive. The driver pulled the reigns and the horses let out screams, their feet digging into the ground and in the process almost flipping the entire cart over. Dalivent held in his hand a dark, leather satchel: this is what they had come to retrieve.

The wardens stormed off the cart and surrounded the two men, Emmerick stood forward, with De Chaedan following closely behind.

‘In the name of President Randelle, Tarius, and the Light you are under arrest.’ 

Dalivent laughed. ‘Oh am I now?’

Suddenly twenty more Dark Ones came to surround the few wardens. Chaos ensued. De Chaedan ran towards Dalivent who was beginning his escape, but a Dark One intercepted him, attempting to punch him in the head. De Chaedan ducked, spun his knife around and then hit the man in the jaw from below. He then brought the knife down stabbing the man in the shoulder.

The wardens began to fire at the oncoming enemies, but there was too many. Some took out their thin and slightly curved swords, charging to meet the masked Dark Ones. Emmerick turned to find De Chaedan, who was fighting his way to where Dalivent was making a run for it. One Dark One jumped at him, sword out swinging to his neck.

Emmerick deflected the blow with his blade, the two swords locked together. Emmerick kicked the man, and he stumbled backwards onto the ground, one hand out balancing himself. With his sword flying through the air, Emmerick dived towards the men, his foot impacting on the man’s chest. The man was pinned to the ground, the arm that was supporting him broke with a sickening crunch sound. He parried the blow of another oncoming attacker, then pushed him to the right. As he did so, he pulled out his side arm, shooting the man straight in the temple. Emmerick found himself in the open and stepped back to observe the scene.

There were now only a couple wardens left and De Chaedan. Half of the Dark Ones were dead. It was a hopeless case, Dalivent would be now long gone.

One of the Dark Ones ordered the others to secure the remaining wardens, along withDe Chaedan and Emmerick. They forcibly removed all their weapons. The same Dark One giving out the orders sat them down on their knees, and he pulled out his sword raising it up in the air. Emmerick gulped, feeling faint realising what the man was about to do. He looked to De Chaedan who looked pale.

He moved over to the first warden lined up and before Emmerick could prepare himself, the Dark One cleaved the poor soul’s head clean off. Just as he was moving over to the next warden there was a noise, a sound of a horn. The Dark Ones all paused, looking around them for the source of the noice. In quick succession three bolts ripped through the leader Dark One’s torso and blood began to spurt out of the man’s chest. The man collapsed and fell backwards limp.

Emmerick could see approaching from the direction of the Citadel fifty or so wardens arriving, eliminating the remainder of Dalivent’s men.

Isadora was not far behind, walking up to Emmerick and De Chaedan.

‘Well?’

Emmerick paused, then sighed. ‘We… we failed. He is long gone by now.’

Isadora nodded with a serious look on her face. 

‘Well, not much we can do now.’

When they returned to the Citadel, Emmerick and Isadora stood on the walls, looking out over the now empty battlefield in the rising light of the sun that peaked over the horizon.

‘I just don’t understand,’ Emmerick said in a quiet voice. ‘De Chaedan assured me that nobody was supposed to know about this mission. They — he — knew we were coming.’

‘I know,’ she said softly, then fell silent for a moment. ‘Well, we survived the battle. Lynk’s army is on the run back to the border — I presume that once they knew Dalivent had secured what he was after they retreated. We don’t know why — they practically had us at their mercy. All we can do now is wait and see what their plan is.’

‘Yes.’

The land that was once a pleasant, green field was know a grey, bleak wasteland. The flowers, pathways and beauty was now replaced with dead bodies, blood, and dust. All manner of weaponry, embers, and splinters covered the scene.

‘Well, I have to say they sort of ruined this perfectly nice view.’

Isadora gave a quiet laugh. ‘Yes. Yes, they sort of did.’

Emmerick lent on the rails of the balcony. ‘Lynk will come back though. This is just the beginning.’

‘I know.’

‘But it will be our children… they will be the ones to suffer from our mistakes today. Tarius stands no chance,’ said Emmerick.

Isadora looked to the man putting her hand on his shoulder. ‘All shall happen as it is meant to. Have courage man! Remember, even in Darkness, Light comes forth.’