The Disturbed Darkness

Mysterious creatures in a dark vale threaten a magically lit castle. A faerie story.

Once, there was a marvelous castle that shined in a deep, dark vale. Those who have seen the castle do not think it marvelous or shining, but that is because they have only seen it in the daylight. Certainly, those who have seen it at night would have attested to its magnificence and light, if they ever came back. You see, at night, darkness covered the wooded vale, but it was no peaceful darkness. It was a disturbed darkness and that meant terror. Perhaps even in your age, during the night, there came a time when the darkness did not seem fair. Perhaps you thought something was watching you, despite all your assurances that there could be nothing there. Well, imagine sending a friend into that dark, black corner. You wait for him to come out, telling you its nothing, but he never returns. That is the disturbed darkness, and that is what the people of this castle faced every night.

Remarkably, the castle did shine in the darkness. To those who lived within, the light of day never left, even after the sun had gone to rest. The source of its light was not a number of candles or great fires, but a water that flowed into the castle and shone with a clear, crystalline brightness. Its light seemed like gems that one could simply reach in and touch but never take hold. Fountains of all sizes jutted from the inner and outer walls and shone slender reflections that flowed across the grounds. No one could find a shadow in the courtyard, and no room was without at least one bowl of light-water. Day after day the people would fill their fountains in expectation for the night. Not to do so meant certain disappearance.  

 Sentries watched the borderline that the light had drawn against the night. There was no slow transition from light to dark; the invading brightness seemed to face a wall of complete blackness. Here and there, lengthy, slender fingers came into the light before quickly disappearing back into the void. Dark shapes hung aloft the trees and shook the branches furiously. There could be heard a great deal of scuffling, snickering, sniffing and breathing on all sides of the vale. There was such an uneasy commotion in the dark that the shaded forms could barely be seen fumbling over one another like insects without purpose. Whatever it was that lurked in the darkness most certainly crawled, and most certainly cursed the light before them.

So the days passed in dread, and the nights loomed in fright, yet the water always seemed to give a short sense of peace to those who gazed deep within it. No one ventured to desert their home during the daylight, for the water seemed too precious to abandon, and no creature left the castle in peace during the night, for the light seemed too precious not to put out. Each night, the dark creatures tossed large stones into the light-water river. In the morning, the men would awaken, venture out into the vale and break the dam. The darkness returned every night, and the light shone ever clearer. Soon, replenishing rains became rare, and the light-water river seemed to diminish. Even so, the borders were never crossed.

Until one historic evening, the only two knights in the entire world stumbled into the vale, dreadfully hungry and hopelessly lost.

“Well, I am dreadfully hungry,” Sir Aodren complained, “and that is the same rock we passed ages ago.”

“We never left it,” Sir Antaeus replied, rising to his feet, “We have obviously been resting too long, Sir Aodren. But we are hopelessly lost.” Both knights stared into the forest gloomily. They were never of the depressed sort. They set out in good spirits, dreamed fanciful dreams under the stars, happily swung their swords against the cruelest dangers, and ate their bread whilst joking about their quests. If they ever did feel gloomy, it had to have been a dinnerless day.

“Slivers of juicy pork and buttered potatoes!” Sir Aodren exclaimed as they walked amongst the trees, “Sauces and cheeses and salted nuts! Pastries and biscuits and sweet—”

“We shan’t eat tonight, or ever again if we cannot find our way,” Sir Antaeus muttered and sighed, “I suppose I will never taste my wife’s cooking again.” The gloom set in once more.

The hour was growing late and the strange noises of the vale reached their ears. “I shudder to think of being food for a wild beast, Sir Antaeus.” Aodren glanced around him.

“Do you think beasts are attracted to bright, solid colors?” Antaeus thought aloud. The green and red knights stared at one another in silence. More gloom.

The sun fell lower and the disturbances became stranger. Rocks fell along the path. One came down so hard that Aodren swore it was tossed. Trees swayed against the wind and both had to beware of falling branches. Small boughs that suddenly appeared tripped them up, and every so often, a shuffling could be heard. The air became foul and the fading twilight was not welcoming. The two knights set aside gloom for fear.

 “There is an evil around us,” Antaeus whispered. He ducked as a small rock sailed by.

“But there is a light ahead!” Aodren shouted. The knights broke into a stumbling sprint. The last light of day had just passed through the vale when they fell into the lit clearing. Aodren was first to dive out from the blackness, while Antaeus fell slightly behind. Upon reaching the clearing, he noticed long, fingerlike shadows wrapped around his ankles, but he quickly shook them off as they evaporated in the light. The glimmering castle rose before them.

“I say!” Aodren was lost in wonder of the small fountains along the walls, “What a magnificent castle! Such a peaceful light should welcome lonely travelers.” He walked up to the wall and stared into a low fountain of water.

“No you don’t!” Antaeus pulled him back. “That is magic, that is! Remember that fairy’s castle we saw so many weeks ago? Full of deceptions and trickeries! It disappeared right before our eyes! There is magic about this vale and no mistake! I say we rest out here and keep going tomorrow.”

Sir Aodren inched to the wall and poked the gate with the tip of his sword. “It is very real, and that means there are probably very real foods and very real beds. I say we stay.”

A sentry’s voice from above broke their thoughts, and a great amount of shouting ensued. The knights were asked a great number of curious questions: Who are you? Then answers followed: We are knights. What kind of knights are you? Starving knights. Do you serve the darkness? We did not know that darkness needs serving. What brings you to our gates at this hour? We are lost. After much assurance that the knights were but simple men, the gates finally opened. A great, curious host of men and women stood inside to eagerly welcome the strangers. Introductions and explanations were in order. There was such a commotion of questions and faces of astonishment as they surrounded the knights in welcome that both men had trouble staying together.

“It appears you do not receive travelers often,” Sir Antaeus spoke amiably.

                “Indeed we do not,” a lordly voice boomed nearby. All the people fell silent in respect. “I apologize for our curiosity, but a traveler has not been welcomed in this vale for many years.” An elderly man made his way in front of the two knights. “I, Alexus, am the lord of this castle, and we are keepers of the light-water. Every night this castle is under threat of dark plots, and we do not know what threatens us, but we think they must creep under the mountain at daylight. Light is their enemy, and our light comes from the great water that you see around you. But come! You will eat and rest here amongst us tonight, and do not worry, for no darkness can spread where the light does not allow.”

Sir Aodren and Sir Antaeus received this news gratefully and asked many things about the looming darkness. They learned the names of many brave men who had traversed the night with bowls of light-water, seeking the hideout of the creeping shadows. No one who entered the gloom ever returned, and it was said that the dark creatures would toss the lost travelers’ empty bowls back to the castle in jest. The knights too shared the higher points of their adventures while Alexus and his castle-folk listened with speechless wonder. It appeared the knights had traveled long and hard through fantastic lands. At length Alexus finally ceased all questioning.

  “The night is long and our visitors tired. Curiosities and stories have been satisfied for the moment, and our friends must get some—” a sentry broke his words with a shout.

“Lord Alexus! The shadows are moving about!”

A greater commotion occurred about the knights as people scrambled to the posts or to safety. In all their curiosity, the opened gate had been neglected. Sharp, small stones sailed from the void into the castle grounds. Most struck nothing but air, but a sharp few made contact with the people. Sir Aodren’s armor received a nasty dent while the two knights held aloft their shields in front of the opening until the gate was properly raised. As the thumps of stones could be heard against the wooden door, the knights turned to inspect injuries. Some folk nursed bruised arms or bleeding legs, yet one small boy lay on the ground; he was not moving. Alexus’ face looked grave as he kneeled over the boy. A woman was weeping over him with a great amount of wailing and tears.

Sir Aodren glanced to Sir Antaeus. Their countenance wore a mixture of grief and resolve, and both knew what the other had in mind. Amidst the weeping of the castle and the laughter of the darkness, the knights pulled out their swords and checked their armor. Aodren checked his helm while Antaeus tightened his greaves. They comforted the wounded and apologized for the pain that they caused. Little ill will was brought against the knights, and no one openly blamed another. It was the cursed darkness that had claimed another life.   

Lord Alexus stared at the knights in bewilderment. “Do not blame yourselves!” he spoke to them after a grieved memorial had been given, “It is our folly that has brought this upon us. You are guests to this vale and know not what you face. Whatever lingers in your minds, do not follow it! A life has already been lost tonight.”

The knights seemed not to notice his voice. “What weapons do you have?” Aodren questioned.

“We have none amongst us.” Alexus replied in exasperation. “They do no good here, only light.” Aodren sighed and got up to carry on his tasks.

Alexus spoke softly, “I know where you wish to go. You will squander your very lives.”

Antaeus glanced at the feeble man in thought. “Perhaps so, but you see, myself and my friend have made a vow. That should any innocent life be harmed by a foul malevolence in our presence, we should do all in our strength to rout that evil. We have just arrived, but I dare say we will not sit idly by. Does not the poor boy’s mother deserve that hope?” A crash and a cry of surprise from Aodren broke his words.

“Sir Antaeus! My blade glows bright!”

Sir Antaeus rushed to his companion, and glanced at Sir Aodren’s sword. It gleamed with the flowing light of the fountain nearby. “What has happened?”  

Aodren spoke in wonder, “Well when lord Alexus mentioned he had no swords, I had the mind to polish my rusty blade. A dirty sword is no knight’s sword I always say. So I was heading to find something to polish my blade, when I tripped over this cursed fountain! But see, the water flowed over my sword, and now look at it glow!” He swished the sword through the air as its light reflected off his eyes. The blade seemed as though it were filled with light-water, sloshing about in the steel. Lord Alexus could only stare in astonishment. A renewed vigor shone in the knights’ eyes as Sir Antaeus dipped his sword into a glowing fountain. The blade came up shining. The knights laughed together in delight.

“How can anyone explain this marvel I see?” Lord Alexus whispered to himself in wondrous confusion.

“Perhaps there is no need.” Sir Aodren patted his shoulder as he followed Sir Antaeus to the higher battlements, leaving an astounded Alexus staring deep into the fountain.

 The knights placed themselves upon the tallest wall, planning their rout to the base of the mountain. Little could be stated, for neither of them knew what lurked beyond the night-border. At last, all talking ceased. They stared in dread at the dark forms and shaded tendrils that faintly crawled in the blackness. Shrill laughters that taunted from the void added sorrow to the thought of the young boy, fallen dead upon the grounds. Sir Antaeus’ heart sank.

“We should hold to our promise, Sir Aodren,” He spoke at length, “but I should wonder what good can come of it after all. Some say the world began in darkness, and if all lights are stolen, it would be so again.” Sir Aodren stared into the darkness without a word. Sir Antaeus continued, “I heard a sad tale long ago. It is told thus: Once, there was a man who hated lights. He darkened his house and scavenged at night. He cursed any and all who lit even a single candle. Soon his hatred became so furious that he vowed to steal and destroy any light that shone. He hosted a great following of beasts who loved the night and they spread darkness into every household. They blew out all candles and destroyed the wax. They threw ash on the fires and even scared the stars away. After their long fit, they came to rest in the night that was present before the world began. Everything was dark, and that is what will be.” The tale had ended and the knights went on staring.

“I wonder what they did to the sun, Sir Antaeus,” Aodren thought wistfully.

  Antaeus stared blankly ahead, confused. At length he could only say, “You know, Sir Aodren, I haven’t the slightest clue,” A grin slowly formed on their mouths and the darkness did not seem at all as frightening as before.

“It is time, Sir Antaeus,” Aodren finally spoke and both made their way to the gate.

Lord Alexus and a great host stood before them to see them off. There were many encouraging pats and good wishes. Most were still weeping over their loss. Others offered their services to go with them, but they were hastily refused. The castle had faced enough death. At last, Alexus handed a large flask of light-water to the knights. “Use it well,” he said. “You go into a world unknown and unfriendly. Should your lights go out, polish your blades with this again. Our water is too precious and too diminished to be given, but this is a time of need.” He handed the flask to the men, “And do not drink it!” he warned, “It has been said that the only man who did so, writhed in agony and perished in the vale.”

The knights received the gift gladly and cheerfully spoke their farewells. The gates were lowered and raised quickly as the knights stepped across. The last they saw of the lighted castle-folk were their disheartened faces. Most eyes stared at the departing knights with a hopeless gaze. The only two that did not were eyes of the dead boy’s mother. Hers glimmered with a faint hope.

The gate slammed behind them and Sir Aodren strapped on his red helm. “The night is young, Sir Antaeus. We should walk if we value our strength.”

Sir Antaeus secured his green shield. “The night is sinister, Sir Aodren. We should run if we value our lives!”

The knights agreed that a prompt jog should be just the thing. As they neared the wall of blackness, they quickly unsheathed their swords. There was a great deal of squealing and scuffling as the creatures felt the light increase its territory upon their beloved darkness. Shadowy fingers and limbs were seen as they continued shuffling in surprise and fear. The dazzling swords seemed like great fires upon a sea of black water.

It was a most disturbing sight. As bright as the blades shone, the darkness remained only feet away. Fingers, legs, and twitching arms were all about them. There was considerable scurrying and not a few hisses. The scrawny, black limbs seemed like the shadows of snakes scouring the grass.

After the knights had jogged some length and the light of the castle had long become obscured by the dense foliage of the vale, Sir Antaeus finally spoke. His breath was shallow out of fear.

“Sir Aodren, I can barely grip my sword!”

“I’m shook to the greaves for sure, Sir Antaeus!”

“I would very much like it if you would not be so close, Sir Aodren. Your cape is brushing my leg too much.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Say that again Sir Antaeus. I am ten paces behind you and can barely make out what you say.”

More silence.

“Sweet Mary!” Antaeus roared as he jumped up in the air and swung his blade at his leg. The dazzling light flashed about the green knight as a shadowy limb dissipated at the stroke. The light became uneven around Sir Antaeus and the battle was on.  

Creatures from all around found their boldness at different moments and leaped at the knights. Their shadowy arms were long and their legs thin. They gave whoops and hisses and snickers. Their bodies flowed in disproportional and indefinite shapes. Neither knight took the notice to inspect the creatures thoroughly, for their lighted blades swished about them, dissipating whatever creature leaped from the void. The knights stood back to back, thrusting, circling, and dodging barrages of woodland projectiles. 

 “We are in a desperate spot!” Sir Antaeus bellowed as he lopped off what he thought was the head of a dark creature. “Look to the left!”

“How close is the mountain?” Sir Aodren hollered over the rustling and hissing. He whirled his blade across a black mass of leaping forms.

“I cannot see it in the darkness!”

“Most are leaping from that direction.” Aodren pointed ahead of him.

“Running is in order!”

“Right then!”

The knights swung about in a whirlwind to briefly illuminate their surrounding before sprinting at the host of creatures. Those that failed to leap away were quickly cut down as the knights passed in a fury of speed. They held their blades before them, running blindly into the dark. They felt the long fingers tickle their heels and knew a great swarm was crawling after them. Still more lay ahead. Most scurried off but a bothersome amount leaped towards them, screaming and flailing. The knights’ hearts leaped in their chests with every scream as they glimpsed thrashing limbs and gaping mouths. They could not tell if the dark creatures wanted them eaten or simply torn apart.

At last Sir Aodren leaped upon a great mound of crawling shapes and thrashed them to vapor. More poured out from a great black abyss before them and Sir Antaeus was next to take the lead. They ran and swiped for what seemed ages to them. Time became lost, and the only thoughts that remained were placing one foot in front of the other, never to stop swiping the lighted swords. At long last, they found that the air had become thick and cold stone had replaced the sky.

“In a cave? How long have we been in here?” Sir Antaeus whispered. Neither one of them had thought to glance upward during their mad sprint to see if they could glimpse the mountain.

“Perhaps this is where they fester,” Sir Aodren reasoned, “They certainly feel disturbed,” he listened to the creatures scurrying along the walls.

“And I am quite disturbed to see that anyone could make it this far,” a shallow, whispy voice hissed along the caverns. “My creatures tell me you put quite a fight. But it will take more than,” here more violent hissing ensued, “sword-lights…to shine out the darkness here.” The shadowy fiends all hissed and sneered, but did not move to attack.

“I, Sir Aodren, and my fellow, Sir—”

“I have no care who you are! Your light is invading the Shadowman’s kingdom!” the voice rasped. “Invaders have no right to be heard.”

“You know, I just realized that light always takes the offensive, Sir Aodren,” Sir Antaeus thought aloud, eyeing the creatures warily. “Even if all it does is just shine there.”

                “Well that is comforting,” Sir Aodren whispered, “but mind your surroundings. We are still outnumbered.”

                “Perhaps if we—”

                “SILENCE!” the creatures jostled at the scream of the Shadowman. “No one leaves my kingdom alive! After we have torn you apart, we will throw your bones back into that waste of a castle! Soon, when their waters have dried, they will know the pain they have caused me.”

                The knights glanced at one another in confusion, but there was no time to question. A creeping form stepped half into the light. Its legs seemed strong and its arms reached near to the ground. Its twitching form seemed wrapped in the shadowy, knotted limbs of its servants. Aodren thought he saw a tongue creep out from the mass of shadows. Before either had time to react, the hunkering form slithered between them and knocked them aside. “Rip them apart!” it yelled as the light flew away with the knights.

                “Sir Aodren! Run the Shadowman through!” Antaeus cried as he leaped back up and swung his blade everywhere.

                “Keep those things off me then!” Aodren called back.

                The crawling creatures all whooped and leapt and held on to the knights, beating and gnawing their armor. Sir Antaeus batted many away and slammed himself against the wall, shaking off as many as he could. Sir Aodren swiped away an untold number of shady fingers in search of the Shadowman. Just as he stumbled before the great form of the grinning monster, Sir Antaeus let out a shout. The creatures had surrounded him on all sides and were leaping from every dark corner. “I need more light!” he cried out in desperation.

                Without a second thought Sir Aodren held his sword aloft and swung it to Sir Antaeus with all his might. The blade stuck into a crack, scattering the shadows in fear. Sir Antaeus used the advantage.

                Yet Sir Aodren was left in complete darkness. He felt a cold breath against his cheek. “That was a foolish thing,” the Shadowman muttered. The next thing Aodren felt were blows and fists clattering and banging against his armor. His body crashed against the floor, wall, and ceiling of the cave seemingly in an instant. “In the end, all lights go out!” the Shadowman shouted and slammed Sir Aodren against the ground once more. “Where is your precious light now?” it rasped in laughter.

                Without thinking, Sir Aodren pulled forth the leather flask of light-water given to him, and took a small drink. Suddenly, as if realizing what he had done, his eyes widened in horror. He seemed about to speak, but the Shadowman had picked him up and pinned his body against the cave wall. The light from Sir Antaeus sword swished about in the void, clearly trying to make its way to its companion. The creatures scuffled around, blocking his path.  

                The hideous face of the Shadowman leaned close to Sir Aodren. The long, murky tendrils of the monster threw off the red knight’s helm and the Shadowman chortled at his enemy’s helplessness. “The battle is over for you, foolish traveler. What have you to say to Death?”

                “I can see you,” Sir Aodren managed to cough, “and you look something dreadful.”

                The Shadowman stared at Sir Aodren in confusion before raising his long fist to smash Aodren’s head. Just in that moment, two things occurred. First, Sir Antaeus disposed of the last brave creature standing between him and the Shadowman. Second, Sir Aodren emptied as much of the flask of light-water as he could into the snarling mouth of the Shadowman.

What ensued was a great deal of screaming, writhing, spitting, and staring. The Shadowman screamed, writhed, and spat in agony as the two knights and all the swarm of shadow creatures stared in wonder.

“No! Again!” the Shadowman screamed and tossed about, “Not again!” He flailed against the walls and scraped his face. Thrashing himself against the ground he turned and sprinted blindly towards the standing knights. Sir Aodren and Sir Antaeus narrowly escaped the thrashing limbs and sprinted off deep into the cavern. The Shadowman gave chase, screaming and beating the walls. Sir Antaeus thought that Sir Aodren led the way remarkably well without his sword.

“Do you know where we are?” Sir Antaeus asked, glancing back at the stumbling Shadowman.

                “No, but this way smells like fresh air!” Sir Aodren shouted back. Soon, the breeze and chill air of the outside world embraced the gasping knights. The Shadowman too followed in a rage into the outside world, just in time to feel the dawn.

                The knights covered their ears against the screams of the Shadowman. It fumed and wailed and flung its long arms around to find the small entrance from which they had come. It throttled itself and made such a fit that Sir Antaeus considered putting it out of its misery. However, the Shadowman brought itself against the mountain wall and slammed its head against the stone in a stroke of madness. The screams ended, and the Shadowman fell to the ground. It had stopped twitching.

                Sir Antaeus poked the Shadowman more than once with a long stick before pronouncing it dead and done with. He glanced at their surroundings and found the vale nowhere in sight. Both reasoned they had traversed a small passage of the mountain into a new land. Antaeus looked from the dead Shadowman to Sir Aodren and clutched his shoulder in friendship.

                “How on earth did you find the way out, Sir Aodren?” he asked astoundingly. “Had I been leading, we would have met wall after wall!”

                “Well you see Sir Antaeus, I took a sip of that light-water that lord Alexus gave us,” Aodren started. Antaeus’ eyes widened, “And I can see the darkness just as if it were day!”  

                “But this is incredible! I thought he told us not to drink the water!”

                “Well I wouldn’t have. But the Shadowman asked me some question while he was giving me a bad beating, and my mouth was a bit dry you see. So I said to myself, ‘Why not take a small sip. Your thirsty enough, and you need to say something back at him’ so I drank. Now the darkness is as light!”

                “Well fine job of having that brute drink it.” Sir Antaeus grinned.

“But recall him saying, ‘Not again?’” Sir Aodren asked, “I wonder if he was that poor bloke who first drank the water at the castle long ago. I suppose if you hate the light before you drink the water, it must certainly be anguish.”

“Oh! You recall that tale I told you about while we were on the wall?” Antaeus broke in, “I just remembered what that dark man and his beasts did to get rid of the sun.”

“Oh really? What?

“They blinded themselves.”

“Well that is a poor way of dealing with it.”

“Indeed. So what is it like seeing everything without darkness?”

“Well, Sir Antaeus, I should say that before I drank the water, I would think that normal sight was the opposite of blindness, but after, I think that this is the real sight. Because everything is revealed rather than only some things, if you get my meaning.” 

“Well I should hope to experience it one day, Sir Aodren.”

“It is a most wondrous experience, Sir Antaeus.”

“But so is eating, and I am dreadfully hungry.”

“But we haven’t the slightest where we are. We are hopelessly lost!” The knights looked over the new landscape from their lofty position and sighed wearily. More gloom.

The morning light shone a new day, and though the knights could not be certain, they felt sure that a great burden had been lifted from the illuminated castle on the other side of the mountain. And to be sure, it was lifted. The castle owed the knights all that a long age of peace could give.

 

Author's Note

Did you enjoy it?

Reviews

[Laureleaf]

Yes, I did. It's a fun story, and you did a good job of tying the story together neatly at the end. I especially liked the little side story about the creatures who blinded themselves to escape the sun--it added a lot of depth. One thing I might point out, though--one does not clean a sword with water (oil is the prefered material). I would suggest getting the water to his blade in some accidental manner, since it jarred me rather badly to see a knight mistreating his sword in that way. Other than that, this was thoroughly enjoyable. You have a nice, lyrical writer's voice.

[3rd Chance]

The style of writing is humorous, even though the theme is a rather sinister one. Yet, the light-hearted approach of the knights to their dark plight makes it an enjoyable read, and the way the prose is laid out is reminiscent of olden writers, before the post-Tolkien times. Simple, but very well written.

[BP Barwick]

You have a good strong plot and the story has a nice pace. The main thing I would look into is the very beginning. The information was vital and had to be put in there, but I wonder if it could somehow be weaved into the story itself. When I began reading it, I was intrigued, but I was not sucked into the story because there was nothing at risk. I didn't feel pulled in until the knights spoke with the people of the castle and understood these were the people who had to deal with the darkness and all its menace every night. I do understand, however, this can be hard to do with such a short story, so it would be more difficult to mesh the exposition with the action.

But overall, I really enjoyed the story. It was enjoyable and well thought out. Thanks for sharing it.

[Gilad Levanon]

Fantastic. I love the style. And content is very interesting. You got anything to say about what inspired this story?