Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (2 page)

Bone snapped and flesh parted as hot blood spewed out from a
jagged wound. A gut-clenching wail echoed off the stone walls and startled the
ever-present black sentries into flight. As the alert subsided into moaning
sobs, the sleek, black ravens resettled on their perch in the grey twigs of the
sorry excuse for a tree that occupied the courtyard.

“Silence!” The command was followed by the crack of a whip
and a slight, strangled cry. “You cannot afford to be heard, even when you are
injured –
especially
when you injured. Silence! Always. Be.
Silent.”

The deep sobs were slowly replaced by tiny sniffling
whimpers as young Rezkin pulled himself back together. At six-years old he knew
full well he should not have shouted. He was stupid, so stupid. He had to think
quickly. Any moment now, Master Jaiardun would begin to ask questions, and he
needed answers or he would suffer even greater punishment. How could he have
fallen? He should have been more careful. If he had set his weight properly as
he streamed across the battlements he would not have slipped on the loose stone.
Always, he was supposed to be prepared to compensate for uneven or treacherous
footing. He had become careless in his mad dash to make up for the time he lost
getting tangled in the rope. It was not the fall that doomed him, although that
would have led to severe enough punishment as it was. No, it was the shout that
sealed his fate.

Finally managing to draw in a complete breath, his vision
started to clear. For several moments the sheer intensity of the pain had
robbed him of sight as his mind flooded with intense heat and light. The
spinning in his head had threatened to disown him of consciousness…or his
breakfast, but he managed to hold on to that much, at least, and thereby
escaped
those
dire consequences. That would have been much worse than
what he was facing already. To shout was to draw attention to one’s presence,
but at least one was still able to defend oneself or commit suicide to prevent
capture. To lose consciousness meant to face discovery
and
be captured
alive.
That
must never happen,
Rule 117
. Rezkin knew these truths
already. Still, he had been unable to control the involuntary noise that
emanated from his small lungs.

A shadow fell over him as Master Jaiardun towered above. His
face was red, and his eyes were blazing with fury beneath an intense scowl.
“You failed! Explain.”

Rezkin swallowed the lump in his throat and took several
shuddering breaths through his nose before containing his nausea enough to
speak. “Master, I failed to set my weight and slipped on the loose stone. I
fell.”

“I can see that you fell,” snapped Master Jaiardun. “You are
still too weak. You could not contain your pain. You will work diligently to
master your pain. You can be sure of this. Now, set that,” Master Jaiardun said
has he waved his hand in the direction of the injury.

The injury in question throbbed with a pain so overwhelming
Rezkin still was not sure he would remain conscious. As soon as his eyes fell
on the bloody off-white edges of bone peeking out from flesh and wool his head
swam, and he lost his breakfast after all. When he finished retching, he
sobbed, “Master, I cannot.”

Master Jaiardun scoffed, “Then, you die. Do you think
someone will always be there to help you? No! You must be ONE. Alone. No one
will help you. No one will care. If they do find you, they are more likely to
kill you immediately or torture you for information and then kill you.”

Rezkin sniffed and whimpered as he reached tentatively
toward his leg. The break was half way down his left shin. It could have been
much worse. A twenty-foot fall could easily kill a man. He was aware that he
had most likely sustained other injuries as well, but the overwhelming pain
stabbing through his leg overshadowed anything else. He tugged on his pant leg
to try to pull it up over the injury and the sickening dizziness filled him
once again. “I-I cannot do it, Master,” he sobbed.

“Men must care for their own injuries,” Master Jaiardun
stated as though it was that simple.

“But, I am only a small-man,” replied Rezkin. “I do not know
how.”

“That is no excuse! You are still a man. You will never be a
big-man if you do not learn this
Skill
,” Master Jaiardun rebuffed.

“Jaiardun, enough,” came a soft but firm voice from
somewhere behind Rezkin.

He jerked his head around in surprise only to feel a sharp
pain shoot through his body from his leg as he moved. He should have heard
Master Peider approach. He should have known
exactly
where the old man
was. Rezkin began to worry about his mind. How could he be failing so much?

Master Peider scrutinized Rezkin with a critical eye. Seeing
the apparent panic on little Rezkin’s face he stated, “It is the pain, Rezkin.
It addles the mind. It makes a man unable to think clearly, and he can easily
lose track of his surroundings, sometimes even forgetting who he is or his purpose.
The injury is damaging. The pain can be deadly.”

Master Peider turned to Master Jaiardun with calm surety, “I
will take him. Without proper treatment by a skilled healer that injury could
negate all of our teaching. He would be a cripple, useless.”

Unsatisfied, Master Jaiardun countered, “He must learn to
treat such an injury. If he never fails so miserably in the future, this will
be the only injury of the sort, and he needs the experience. Plus, it will
teach him not to be so careless.”

Master Peider frowned, “I am sure he is already regretting
his carelessness. I will not sedate him during treatment. He will watch how it
is done so that he knows what to do in the future. Still, I will have to use a
bit of power to stimulate and speed the healing unless you want him unable to
train for the next six months. Obviously, that is something he will not be able
to do for himself.”

“Fine,” Master Jaiardun huffed. “Just make sure he learns
from this. It would be a waste for him to sleep through the treatment and gain
nothing.” He turned his brooding glare back on Rezkin. “You will face me again
when you are healed. You will not enjoy it.”

Enjoy
? What did that mean? Rezkin frowned as his
eyebrows pulled together on his tiny face. He was not sure what this
enjoy
was, but perhaps it was a big-man thing. He would have to ask Master Peider
about it later. He knew he had much to learn of big-man things. The masters had
explained to him how men came into this world very small and knowing nothing.
In order to become a big-man he had to learn the
Rules
and
Skills
.
Ignorance
, (that meant not knowing the
Rules
and
Skills
),
was no excuse for failing. Small-men were always punished for
infractions
(that meant breaking the
Rules
or failing the
Skills
), and as the
men grew bigger, they were punished less because they learned the
Rules
and
Skills
.

Rezkin wanted to become a big man fast, so he worked very
hard to learn all of the
Rules
and
Skills
. Unfortunately, he had
just failed in his
Skills
miserably. He had also broken
Rule 6
– Do not get injured
and
Rule 12
–
Do not make sound
.
As Master Peider bent to pick him up, Rezkin sucked in a breath and spied the
blood and vomit on the cobblestones. He was about to break
Rule 10
–
Do not leave evidence
, as well. Just as Master Peider lifted him
from the ground, a searing pain ripped through him and all went black.

Rezkin reached for the swaying branch, just barely managing
to grip the rough bark with the tips of his fingers. As soon as he caught hold,
he used the considerable strength of his wiry frame to pull himself up. He
perched in the bough as he surveyed his surroundings once again. He was still
honing his observational skills. Master Jaiardun assured him that once he was a
full-grown big-man he would no longer need to concentrate so hard on his
environment. The
Skill
would be so infused in his mind that he would do
it automatically without thinking. Until then, he had to concentrate. Striker
Farson and Striker Adona were both here somewhere, and they were looking for
him. This was by far the most difficult task he had been assigned yet. Not only
did he have to enter the fortress by stealth, he had to do it during the day
with the “inhabitants” having been forewarned of his coming.

There was no movement in the courtyard or on the balcony
across from him. He took a moment to peer into a shadow to one side of the
balcony. He saw nothing to indicate anyone was hiding in the shadow. Averting
his gaze, he reexamined the shadow with his peripheral vision. One could often
see things in their periphery that one could not see directly. Still, he saw
nothing.

He took a deep breath and then stood, balancing his weight
on the balls of his feet. Normally, he would turn his feet to the sides to walk
about a swaying tree, but what he was about to do required speed and power.
Without a moment’s hesitation he darted forward, his feet barely touching the
sturdy limb, and then launched himself into the open space beyond. Just as he
began to think he had misjudged the distance, he closed in on the balcony’s
railing. Strong hands gripped the carved stone, and he swung his legs forward
so that his feet impacted the wall below. His legs coiled with his momentum,
and, like a viper, he sprung back from the wall while pushing slightly downward
with his toes. He shot upward and over the railing to land softly in the shadow
of the stone wall.

Soft boots settled lightly on the stones making neither
sound nor mark. The balcony doors would surely be locked, but that would be no
problem – not anymore. He had achieved his
Lock Mastery
Skill
last year. Now, at twelve-years old he was focusing on a number of other
Skills
,
the present most important one being
Daylight Stealth Invasion
. His task
was to enter the fortress and retrieve an item from a predetermined location
and then return said item to the Master waiting in the stables. Not only was he
required to succeed without getting caught, but also without anyone knowing the
item was missing before he finished the task. Five strikers were assigned as
regular guards at stationary posts, four were on roaming patrols, and two,
Farson and Adona, were actively seeking him. The strikers were only permitted
to check on the artifact every twenty minutes, so he had to time the
acquisition just right.

Not only did Rezkin have to succeed in performing the task,
he had to plan the entire invasion without assistance, which was part of his
Stealth
Strategy and Tactics Skill
. What made it even harder, though, was that in
this particular exercise, he was not permitted to kill or even engage any of
the guards. It was truly meant to test whether he could get in and out without
anyone ever knowing he had been there.

Rezkin slipped through the balcony door and closed and
locked it after him. He would not be using the same route to exit, so he made
sure to leave no trace of his presence. An unlocked outer door would be a dead
giveaway. He had decided on this particular entrance because it was so obvious
and open. If the “inhabitants” were not aware of his intent to break in, he
would never have taken this route. Since they were looking for him already,
they would assume he would never choose such a vulnerable entry.

Crossing the sitting room as quickly as possible, he
crouched low just in case anyone glanced through the plethora of bright and
open windows. Prostrating himself at the door leading to the corridor beyond,
he pressed one hand and ear to the door. He watched the light that peeked
through the slit at the bottom and felt for the slightest hint of a breeze.
When he was sure no one was skulking on the other side of the door, he very
carefully eased it open just enough to slip through. He glanced up and froze,
his heart beating wildly, his attention riveted on the armored guard standing
stoically at attention across from him.

Armor. He sucked in a deep breath to calm his racing heart.
Full plate armor. None of their guards wore plate armor. This was just a suit.
Never had there been a suit of armor decorating a corridor before. They had
placed this here for the purpose of confusing or alarming him. He realized he
needed to hurry. If they had placed this here, they had considered the chance
he might choose this entry. There was no telling how many other things they
might have changed to confound him.

Rezkin knew he only had moments before the next roaming
guard wandered down this corridor. He padded quickly and quietly to the end
where it met a second corridor at a ‘T’ juncture. This is where it got tricky.
Thirty paces to the left, the second corridor ended at another corridor. A guard
would pass by just as the roaming guard entered the corridor in which he was
currently standing. He would have to slide into the second corridor at exactly
the moment the second guard passed out of view or the first guard would see
him. The guards were using time dials to coordinate their efforts. Rezkin did
not have a time dial of his own, but he had been given a copy of the guard
rotations two days prior to simulate the event that he had a spy in
“residence.” He had memorized the guard patterns and relative movements to the
point that he had actually dreamt about them the previous night.