Into the Dark

This entry is part 1 of 5 in the series The Dark

The Watchers tell me you departed some time ago, that you walked into the tunnel by yourself armed with nothing but your pack, walking stick, and a lantern. An incredible risk, if you ask me, given what we both know lurks there in the dark. But I know you. I know your strength; I’ve seen it first-hand. So I’m not worried for you. But the things that live there, in the dark, ought to be worried, even though they don’t know it.

I’ve waited for you to return. I’ve hoped to see you again by now, but you haven’t come back yet. I can only assume the journey has been longer than expected, or that there has been some complication on the other end we didn’t anticipate. I’m certain the journey itself was safe enough. I’ve seen the way you take care of others, and I understand full well that you exercise the same level of care on yourself.

Just the same, though, I’ve explained my plan to the Watchers, and they have agreed. I have my own pack now. And walking stick. And lantern.

I’m going to follow you into the dark.

Sharing the Dark

This entry is part 2 of 5 in the series The Dark

We found each other in the dark some time later. Or, rather, the semi-dark. A crack in part of the tunnel ceiling extended through the rock over our heads and let in just enough light that we didn’t require our lanterns. It did little to dispel the gloom to either side of us, of course, but it at least gave us a safe haven for our reunion.

You were already on your way back when I found you. You greeted me with a hug and a smile that was genuinely warm. I knew I’d been right not to worry, but your gear clearly told the tales of your travels. There had been hardships along the way. I could see those markings clearly, even in that dim light. But still you smiled, ever positive, ever optimistic. And this was part of why I chose to follow you into the dark. How could I not?

We walked together then, both our lanterns lit, the shared glow of those lights illuminating the path ahead of us more clearly than each had alone. We talked, voices low, exchanging stories and sharing experiences.

I didn’t want it to end.

Traversing the Dark

This entry is part 3 of 5 in the series The Dark

We traveled like that for some time. Talking. Sharing. Laughing. It was always a joy to travel with you, and it was no less so this time.

And as we walked, we noticed the ground beneath our feet begin to slant ever so slightly downward.

The thing about the dark is that the path rarely ever stays the same. The tunnels are always changing, ever shifting. Honestly, it was a small wonder I was able to find you at all. These are the kinds of things the Watchers are ever on the lookout for, giving warning when such events occur. But even They can’t see everything, and so this shift slid beneath their attentive gazes.

We reached a cross passage, barely having time to note it when things, creatures of the dark, lunged at us. Neither of us missed a beat. We whirled as the things, barely seen yet lethally dangerous, attacked. We pulled weapons — you a stiletto, me a sword — and danced death with them, never leaving the other’s side, never dropping our packs. One always fights while bearing one’s own burdens.

Piercing the Dark

This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series The Dark

Our blades flashed in the dark, sparks of light from our lanterns flickering off our weapons. The things were all around us, attacking from the sides, the floor, even the ceiling. We stood back-to-back and warded them off — one, two, sometimes even three at a time.

Until there were none left. Corpses lay all about us as we struggled to catch our breath. We had fought. We had won. But we had not escaped entirely unscathed ourselves. Such are the dangers of traveling these dark corridors.

We moved off a bit, choosing a side passage almost at random. We needed to leave the stench of death behind us and attend to our own wounds. We both resheathed our blades into our walking sticks, then sat, our backs to the tunnel wall.

I could see a long scratch along your left forearm. It was already growing dark with the venom of the thing that had caused it. I dug into my pack for a bezoar, but a familiar crunch from between your teeth told me you’d already pulled one out of your own. Of course you didn’t need my help.

Comfort in the Dark

This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series The Dark

You reached out your injured arm, placing your hand on my shoulder while I wrapped and bound it. You didn’t even wince as I pulled the bandages tight to help slow the blood flow. One of the Healers would need to tend to the wound once we returned to the Haven, but for now, this made an adequate field dressing.

You smiled as I worked, and we made small talk again, as if we hadn’t just fought for our lives. Such was the way for those of us who made a habit of traversing the darkness. We all learned after a while that dangers lurked everywhere and that there was nothing to be done but to roll with them, dealing with each one as it cropped up. You were already an old hand at this, well-versed in dealing with such risks. You had taught me much in the brief time we had known each other.

I could help returning your smile. You always had that effect on me. Your smile could light the darkness in a way our lanterns never could. The warmth of your smile dispelled the chill of the eternal night here, however briefly.