Darkness
by Jeffrey Konkol

Taumril suppressed a shiver as he gazed up into the stifling blackness of the night sky. The chill northern winds that always preceded the onslaught of the storm season were whipping about the rough countryside, but he was oblivious to them. For the first time in his twenty six summers of life, Taumril was truly terrified. 

Terror was a difficult sensation for him to grasp.  Despite his youth Taumril was one of the most successful blacksmiths in the area, a position which made him as strong as he was wealthy. His entire body was covered with muscle and his skin had gained a leathery texture from the countless hours of baking over the fires of his forge.  There were few in the region who could best him in bouts of strength or swordplay.  Yet fear had still found its way into his heart. 

"If only I had heeded the warnings!" He quietly cursed to himself as he nestled closer to the warmth and security of his campfire.  While he had been making his final preparations for his yearly journey to the inland city of Semilae, a group of city guardsmen sent message that he 
should be especially careful this year. The message went on to vaguely describe some kind of peril nesting in the large region of hills directly east of Semilae.  With the storm season coming on fast however, Taumril had elected to ignore the message and travel through the hills anyway. For years he had made the journey and arrived just in time to help his parents prepare for the onset of the storms.  He was not about to fail them this year. 

Taumril never did understand why his parents chose to live in Semilae.  He easily had enough money to support them in Telamon, and he would much prefer that to making this journey each year.  The storm seasons were used by most smiths as a time to build an inventory for the prosperous spring season that followed.  Taumril hated having to lose the valuable work time, but he knew that his parents would have difficulties without his aid. 

A distant cracking noise split the air.  Taumril almost fell into his campfire as he sprang to his feet and drew his broadsword from its scabbard.  After a couple of seconds, however, he noticed the occasional flashes of light that played across the distant northern sky.  He chuckled and sheathed his weapon. "I must look like some scared little child," he cursed to himself. After all, he had been in these hills for three days now and he hadn't actually seen anything that 
would qualify as perilous.  Yet the young blacksmith felt as if something were different about the trip this time. 

At the moment the sea of waist-high grasses that blanketed the hills moved with a current, seemingly in response to the winds.  However, there were times during the last three days though that Taumril was certain something else was driving them.  It was as if something 
were moving within the grasses, creating an undertow.  Occasionally birds and other creatures that nested within the forest of grasses would startle, and burst forth from the foliage in a flash of color and a rush of sound.  At first he assumed the birds to be disrupted by his own travel, 
but he never seemed to get close enough to any of the disturbances to have caused them. 

His nerves had begun to wear thin after the second day.  He began to avoid the long shadows cast by the trees he would occasionally pass in fear of what they might contain.  The darkest hours of night were the hardest on Taumril, and his mind tore into him whenever he closed his eyes.  His dreams were filled with images of claws and teeth ripping out of the darkness, always coming close, but never tasting his flesh.  He knew that he was letting his imagination get the better of him, but he couldn't keep it in control.  Something was hunting him, and it had been doing so ever since he crossed into the hills. It hadn't shown itself, but 
he knew it was out there.  It was out there in the grasses somewhere. 

Late on the third night, he started from his uneasy slumber.  He heard then for the first time the quiet, inhuman baying of the beast that was stalking him. 

The beast gazed longingly at the living thing that had entered her territory. Even though she kept well out of the range of the man-thing's light, her senses were very keen. She could sense the creature.  More importantly, she could sense the presence of her ally, Fear. The beast 
could also sense great strength in this man-thing, but that did not matter to her.  The man-thing had a soul, and she was only one soul away from gaining freedom from the hellish curse of her existence. 

Taumril was unable to sleep for the remainder of the night.  The winds had receded a bit, but the cool night air was full of the rustling of leaves and grasses.  He could see the silhouette of a giant tree off in the distance and he allowed its gentle motion to ease the tension from 
his muscles. 

A few more days of travel and he would be in Semilae.  Once there, he would finally confront his parents.  They had given him life and raised him until he was capable of supporting himself.  He wasn't a perfect child, and they undoubtably made countless sacrifices for him over the years.  He had a life of his own though, and he couldn't keep risking it for their comfort. They simply had to come stay with him in Telamon.  The valuable work time he would save each year would provide him enough extra money to support them and the warmer climate would do them some good.  They had always deflected his requests in the past with their fears of leaving the only home they had ever known.  He could understand their fears, but he couldn't risk the yearly journey anymore.  Not after this trip.  They will have to face their fears, he resolved. 

Taumril struck camp and resumed his journey as soon as the red light of the twin suns had topped the western horizon.  With the exception of a burning sensation in his belly and a metallic taste in his mouth, his body felt completely distant from him.  He knew that the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on him, but he had to press onward. 

The morning suns were reassuring to Taumril.  The winds had not returned to their full intensity, and the grasses seemed much calmer than they had the previous days.  He still felt the presence of the hunter, but doubted that it would attack him during the day.  He allowed his 
mind to relax a bit and absorb the brilliant countryside, for he understood that in any event this would be the last time he would make the journey to Semilae. 

The tips of the grasses he waded through were sun dried to a bright golden hue, and when viewed from a distance they appeared much like a miniature corn field.  An occasional tree provided contrast to the otherwise flowing fields of grass.  He was more than halfway through the hills, and they had begun to grow in height and depth.  The distant horizon was dominated by a mountain range.  He had always loved the view of the mountains.  He fancied them as rare places where the earth merges with the receiving sky.  He remembered stories from his childhood where the earth and sky united for a period of six days.  When they finally separated it began to rain, and from that rain came the races of mankind. 

The journey passed easily for Taumril while his mind was wandering.  He was less aware of his surroundings, however, and his foot was pulled out from under him as he crossed the crest of a hill.  He fell forward and began to tumble down the side of the hill.  The full horror 
of his situation struck him as he crashed down the mountainside.  It had ambushed him.  He could hear its pounding footfalls behind him as he fell.  He pitched himself down the hillside as fast as he could, but it was futile.  Its claws were tearing into his skin. 

Taumril felt white hot moisture crash across his face.  The heat quickly fled to be replaced by icy water.  He was lying face first in a stream of fresh water.  He knew the beast was only a few steps behind.  He wrenched his body around in terror and threw his bloody arms 
in front of his face.  There was nothing there. 

He sat there in a stupor for a moment.  Above him was the hill he had pitched down. A few exposed rocks glistened with syrupy red moisture as markers of his passage.  He noticed a path of divots in the soft earth of the hillside where his scabbard had evidently bit into the hillside during his fall.  He had imagined the whole attack. 

Taumril sat in the brook for awhile, until the cool water could sap away some of the tension from his body.  He slowly climbed to his feet and took a careful glance at his surroundings.  The stream he had landed in was no more than ten feet wide, and it barely had a current.  He knew that the wounds on his arms would become infected if he didn't tend to 
them.  Further, he had to regain his wits.  He decided to rest for a few hours by the stream. 

He used the glassy surface of the water as a mirror.  His wounds were not nearly as extensive as he had originally feared, but it still took him a long time to clean them in his exhausted state.  After he forced some rations and fresh water past his swollen throat, he rested his body against the curve of the hill.  The water was tranquil, and it reflected a beautiful image of the sky off its surface.  Ripples disturbed his picture as a rainbow of a fish broke the surface to devour some insect that had flown too close.  He marveled at the ease with which it hunted. A few moments later the soothing trickle of the stream has shattered by the screech of a bird of prey as it dove down and yanked a fish from the comforting folds of the water.  The multicolored fish thrashed a bit in the bird's claws, and then it was gone.  Carried away into the sky to feed the successful hunter, or perhaps to provide nutrients for an entire nest of young hunters.  A few moments passed and the stream returned to what it was, as if nothing had happened. 

That must be the way of the world, Taumril mused to himself.  It is a place populated by hunters who are yet hunted.  When one falls prey to another it is as if nothing has happened. The hunter becomes the prey to feed the next generation of hunters.  And some day that next group of hunters will become the hunted in order to support the next.  This day I am the hunted. And when I fall victim . . . if I fall victim, the world will continue on as it has all along.  Taumril did not journey much farther that ay.  He travelled far enough to find a defensible camp site, and lay down to gain some rest before nightfall. 

The beast crouched, and lowered her belly to the ground as she fixed her gaze on her prey. She could sense that Fear had done its work well, and that there wouldn't be a  struggle when the time came to gather this one's soul.  The time was not yet right though, so the beast sat and 
waited.  Soon her curse would be ended, and she would be allowed to die. 

It had been an eternity since the night of her tragic mistake.  She remembered falling to the ground after the lumbering demon struck her.  She remembered the flames burning away her skin, setting every nerve in her body against her.  She remembered crying out to the beast for mercy, begging and promising anything in return for a respite from the incomprehensible pain and the mounting fear that it would grow worse.  But most of all, she remembered the damnable bastard's laughter as it cursed her.  As it damned her. 

She had feared the demon and it had needed nothing else to enslave her.  One hundred souls she had already stolen for it.  One hundred and one souls and she would gain her freedom. The only provision to her dark contract was that the souls could only be taken from those whose 
hearts were stricken by the same terror that had struck her down that night an eternity past. Fear was her only ally now. 

The nightmare would end with the destruction of this one last soul.  The beast stretched her sinewy muscles for a moment and pondered the faceless souls she had devoured.  Just one more, she thought.  One more soul and it would all have purpose. 

It took Taumril nearly two hours to set up his camp.  He would have liked to sleep longer, but he knew that a fortified camp might be the only thing to protect his frail life later that night. His camp was set upon the crest of the highest hill he could find.  He constructed three fires that night, each spaced far enough apart from the others to allow him to lie down in between them.  Taumril realized that his fires would be certain to attract his enemy's attention, but at least this way he would be able to see the beast's attack when it came. 

He set himself down in the center of his triangle of fires and scanned the horizon for a brief moment.  There was a powerful storm blowing in from the north, but he was confident that his fires were built well enough to withstand the wind and rain that the storm would bring.  Now all I have to do is wait, he thought as he pulled his broadsword free from its scabbard and gently set it to rest against his lap.  The feel of the great blade in his hands granted him comfort and the reflections of the firelight off its surfaces gave him company as he waited through the 
night. 

Moving in near complete silence, she crept closer to her prey.  The first drops of rain were beginning to fall as she closed to within a hundred feet of her target.  The beast was tired of waiting for this enemy to fall into slumber.  The time for freedom had to be now! Without further 
hesitation she burst from her shadowy perch. 

Taumril restrained his terror as he watched the beast start its charge up the hill. For the last couple of hours he had been able to monitor the thing's slow progress by picking out its silhouette whenever the lightning flashed, but this was the first time the creature had ventured close enough for him to get a good look at it. 

It walked on four legs, and it stood no more than four feet tall at the shoulders.  It was blanketed in such thick black fur that it was difficult to keep track of its location in the steady drizzle that had begun to fall.  The only thing that gave Taumril warning when the charge had 
finally come was the reflection of the firelight off the beast's golden, saucer-like eyes. 

Taumril braced himself for the worst as the nightmare which had been stalking him for days finally leapt into his firelight.  It sat before him now, licking up the saliva that came from its slavering jaw.  The beast looked almost canine, thought Taumril as he studied it.  Its huge maw extended out from its head, and its ears were flattened back far enough so that they rested against its skull.  "We end this now, my friend." Taumril whispered as he pointed the tip of his great weapon at the horrid beast that now sat a mere ten feet away from him.  In the eternity of the next few moments, he wished his parents well.  He hoped that they would have the common sense to sell his business and live out the rest of their lives comfortably.  When the attack came, there was no fear in his stance.  He looked like one who had accepted his fate. 

The time was right, but the beast was not quite so confident anymore.  Where was her ally? She couldn't wait for this creature to weaken further though, so she lunged toward her victim. Her salvation.  We will die together, she thought, and the storm will lead us away from this 
hell to the next one. 

Taumril met the charge with as much courage as he could muster.  He swung his sword at the approaching beast, but it was too quick for him.  The beast pounced on him before he could recover from his failed swing.  All the air was blasted from his lungs as the incredibly dense 
body of the creature slammed him to the ground, and Taumril felt the burning liquid sensation in his side that could only indicate that a rib had been broken.  The pain was intense, but there was no time for pain.  The creature was right on top of him.  His sword had been knocked from his grasp during the creature's charge, but even unarmed Taumril was a powerful man.  He reached out with his huge, tree trunk arms and locked them around the beast's tawny neck.  He knew that he would be clawed to death before he would be able to strangle the gigantic hound, but he could think of no other way to stop the creature's powerful jaws from clamping down on his exposed neck.  Taumril felt his abdomen being torn apart by the creature's tough raking claws, but he held tight.  He held on with all his might.  Blood flowed from his numerous wounds, and he gradually began to weaken.  His grip on the beast began to slip. He could feel its rancid breath blast against his face as it tore its head free from his grasp.  He struck out at the black thing.  Everything was growing dark as his blood danced with the rain.  All he could see were its golden eyes as he sank into the depths of unconsciousness. 

The beast sadly looked down at the body that would end its curse.  She was ready to end the nightmare now, but she could find no trace of her ally.  Where had Fear gone?  Without its aid, there was no way to take this man-thing's soul.  The strange beast slowly turned her head away 
from the blacksmiths body with hot moisture in her golden eyes, and looked at the first rays of light that heralded the dawn.  Without further delay, she sprinted away into the receding night. She could not take this creature's soul.  The nightmare would have to continue. 

Taumril gradually faded back into awareness as the twin suns bathed his bloody body in the warm rays of the new day.  He did not know why he was still alive, but he wasn't about to question it.  After cutting his spare cloak into wide strips, he created a makeshift bandage for 
his shredded midsection. 

A few days after the onset of the storm season, the battered form of a man appeared at the entrance gates of Semilae.  The man was drenched from the rains that had fallen that day. It seemed obvious that this man had been travelling for many days. "Isn't it a little dangerous out there to be travelling alone?" commented the younger of the two guardsmen that manned the gate. 

"Yes it is," Taumril replied in a frail, controlled voice. 

The older of the two guards, a man who had known Taumril for a number of years, met his gaze for a moment and then chuckled to himself lightly.  "Your parents were worried, you had better go to them right away." 

"Thanks," Taumril managed. 

The older guard followed Taumril's progress with his gaze.  He noticed the bright, angry spots of crimson that were occasionally dripping to the ground from beneath Taumril's cloak. He decided to say nothing.  Whatever Taumril had faced out there, he was a proud man, and he didn't look like he wanted to discuss it. 

"Come on Jehlam, lets go inside and warm ourselves by the fire."  The older guard grinned at his younger companion as he quickly ushered him towards the door which led to the internals of the gatehouse. Before entering the structure, the old guard took one last look out into the street.  He was satisfied to see that Taumril's blood was being washed away by the rain.