Chapter 15 Through the Dark #2
“I’m not your enemy,” Venrick said. As he spoke, he was struck with a fresh wave of pain that drove him to one knee. The metal pages clattered against the stone floor once more as he flexed to brace himself against the burning inside.
The action startled the boy, who flinched and tried to retreat deeper into the shadows. As the boy moved, he gasped, his hand going to his side.
“You’re injured,” Venrick observed, forcing himself to focus beyond his own agony.
The boy hesitated, then gave a barely perceptible nod. “When the fighting started upstairs, I was delivering messages. Something exploded. The wall,” his voice trembled. “I got lost trying to find my way back.”
Cheyanne’s distraction, Venrick realized. Their allies must’ve created a more violent form of chaos in the upper levels of the Keep. This child had been caught in the crossfire.
The rational part of Venrick’s mind screamed at him to keep moving. Guards were pursuing him. They would know he was somewhere the tunnels beneath the Keep’s main level. Yet he found himself setting the pages carefully aside and approaching the boy slowly, hands open to show he meant no harm.
“My name is Venrick,” he said quietly. “I used to be a Squire for a Paragon from this Keep, you may have heard of him before, Tel Roan.”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly. “But... you’re with the intruders.”
“Life has become complicated since Tel’s fall,” Venrick admitted, now close enough to see the extent of the child’s injuries. A nasty gash ran along his side, and his ankle was twisted at an unnatural angle. “What’s your name?”
“Edgar,” the boy replied after a moment’s hesitation. “I serve Lord Cardwell’s household.”
“Well, Edgar, it looks like you’ve had a rough night.” Venrick managed a smile despite the pain coursing through him. “So have I.”
Edgar stared at the black lines creeping across Venrick’s skin. “What’s wrong with you?”
“A spell. Not a pleasant one.” Venrick knelt beside the boy, ignoring the protest from his own body. “May I look at your wounds?”
After a moment’s consideration, Edgar nodded warily.
Venrick gently examined the cut on the boy’s side. It was deep but had mostly stopped bleeding, though infection would be a concern if it wasn’t properly treated. The ankle was a simple sprain, painful but not broken.
“I can bind that cut,” Venrick said, reaching for the hem of his own tunic. “It will help until you can reach a healer.”
“Why would you help me?” Edgar asked, suspicion clear in his young voice. “If you’re an enemy of the Keep.”
Venrick paused, considering how to answer. The corruption from the King’s spell chose that moment to flare within him again, sending molten agony racing along his nerves. His vision darkened at the edges, and he had to brace himself against the wall to avoid collapsing.
When the wave passed, he found Edgar watching him with a mixture of fear and concern.
“I’m not an enemy of the Keep,” Venrick said finally, tearing a strip of fabric from his tunic. “Or of its people. I’m trying to stop something terrible from happening.”
As he wrapped the makeshift bandage around Edgar’s midsection, Venrick found himself explaining the scenario. He didn’t use the full truth, which would sound like madness to the boy, but a simplified version.
“The King’s greed has gone beyond the best interests of Lamar. He’s become involved with dangerous magic,” he said, securing the bandage. “The kind that hurts innocent people. My friends and I discovered this, and now we’re trying to find a way to stop it.”
“But the King protects Lamar,” Edgar protested, though with less conviction than before. “The Paragons all serve him. They are heroes.”
“Many of them are and they’re doing what they believe is right,” Venrick said carefully, “But people in power don’t always tell the truth about what they’re doing to those who follow them.” He moved to examine the boy’s ankle, gently probing the swollen joint. “Does your family live in the Keep?”
Edgar shook his head. “Lower city. My mother works in the laundry. I was chosen for messenger duty because I’m fast.” His face fell. “Or I was, before this.”
The sound of distant footsteps echoed through the tunnels, still far off but growing closer. Venrick’s time was running out.
He knew what he should do. The mission came first. He needed to get the ritual pages to Hardin, no matter the cost. That was what Lark had sacrificed herself for. That was what might save them all from the Void Drinker and the coming Flashover.
But as he looked at the injured boy before him, Venrick couldn’t bring himself to simply leave.
His gaze fell on the metal pages beside him, their ancient text glinting in the dim light. The corruption seeks division. Unity is its bane.
He formed a plan. It was desperate, risky, but perhaps their only chance.
“Edgar,” he said, making his decision, “do you think you can make it to the eastern service entrance if I help you?”
The boy considered this, then nodded cautiously. “I think so. There’s a passage that connects to the kitchens, and from there it’s not far.”
“Good.” Venrick reached for the metal pages, quickly sorting through them. His fingers found the one with the most complete section of readable text. A page containing the core of the binding ritual.
He carefully separated it from the others.
“I need your help,” Venrick said, holding out the single page.
“This is very important. There’s a man waiting near the eastern service entrance.
He’s a young adult, brown hair, brown eyes, and he has a subtle mustache and goatee.
He’s a skilled bard. His name is Hardin. I need you to get this to him.”
Edgar stared at the metal page, then back at Venrick. “Why me? Why don’t you take it yourself?”
“Because I don’t think I can make it there before the guards find me,” he admitted. “And this information needs to reach my friends.”
Understanding dawned in the boy’s eyes. “You’re going to lead them away. Create a diversion.”
Venrick managed a smile. “Smart lad. So, will you help me? Help all of us?”
Edgar hesitated only briefly before accepting the metal page, carefully tucking it inside his tunic. “What should I tell the bard, Hardin?”
“Tell him that Lark’s been captured. Tell him the ritual requires both types of magic, working in unison.” Venrick reached for his sword, drawing it with effort. “And tell him, I’ll find another way out.”
The lie soured his emotion, but he forced his expression to display confidence. He doesn’t need to know that I won’t make it.
With his free hand, Venrick reached for the Yogo Sapphire in the sword pommel. It was nearly depleted, but there might be just enough power left for what he needed.
“I’m going to cast a small spell,” he explained to Edgar, who watched wide-eyed. “It will mask your presence from the guards, but only for a short time. You need to move quickly once I’ve done it.”
Venrick closed his eyes, focusing on the last reserves of the Yogo’s power.
His training gave him just enough aptitude to shape a simple concealment charm.
Not true invisibility as someone better versed in magic could, but a subtle suggestion to any observers that the boy was merely a shadow, a trick of the light, nothing worth noticing.
The Sapphire dimmed as its final energy flowed out, forming a shimmering veil around Edgar. The spell would last maybe fifteen minutes. He hoped it was enough time for the boy to reach the eastern entrance if he moved without delay.
“There,” Venrick breathed, exhausted by even this small working. “Now go. Stay close to the walls, move quietly, and don’t stop for anything.”
Edgar stood, wincing as he put weight on his injured ankle. “What about you?”
Venrick gathered the remaining metal pages, securing them inside his coat. “I’ll be right behind you,” he lied again. “Just taking a different route to confuse the guards.”
The boy looked unconvinced, but the approaching sound of marching guards was growing louder. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For helping me.”
“Go,” Venrick urged, rising painfully to his feet. “And Edgar? When this is over, find your mother and get as far from Astral City as you can. Head southwest, find a small town in rural Lamar. Things may get dangerous around here in the coming days.”
With a final nod, Edgar disappeared down one of the tunnels with surprising speed despite his injuries.
Venrick waited until the boy was out of sight, then turned toward the sound of pursuit.
Waiting in the darkness, he braced for the whispering voice that had been following him.
As he gripped his now-powerless sword, Venrick felt an unexpected clarity.
The spell’s whispers had gone silent. The visions of surrender didn’t come.
Did helping Edgar stave off some of the spell’s effects? he wondered.
“The corruption seeks division,” he murmured. “Unity is its bane.”
With deliberate steps, Venrick moved away from Edgar’s escape route, heading deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels.