Never Ending Darkness (title pending) - Chapter Three

Auron Rosenfeld

A chill crept into my body. Slowly at first so that I didn’t notice it, but eventually got worse and worse until I couldn’t ignore it if I tried. I did try. I pulled my thin shirt tighter around myself and curled into a smaller ball, wondering where she was. I should’ve heard her coming.

I peered through the darkness, down the hill toward the cabin. I could barely see the faint glow of a candle inside. As I watched, the door opened, letting more light out. I smiled. My Kyanna was coming to me. She promised she’d come, and now she was on her way.

I turned around, carefully fingering the basket of wool I spent the day cleaning, wondering what my sister would bring for me to do next. She usually brought me work to do—sometimes it was mending, sometimes it was cleaning wool, sometimes getting produce ready for her to process. I didn’t mind. It gave me something to do, during the long days that I had to spend in the small dugout she made for me.

It wasn’t safe for me to come out during the day, because a soldier might see me—and I couldn’t go very far when it was dark. I couldn’t explore without light, and I couldn’t have light without taking a chance of a soldier seeing me. Kyanna said that they were still sore at me. I still wasn’t quite sure why.

I stood up, stretching, peering down the hill. I still didn’t hear any sign of Kyanna. That was strange. She usually came to our meeting place quickly. I heard a loud crash. As quickly as I could I hauled myself up into the low branch of a tree and narrowed my eyes toward the house, trying to see what was happening. I couldn’t tell anything in the blackness.

“Please keep her safe.” I murmured a prayer under my breath, my chest tight with fear.

What if a soldier saw her? What if they were going to arrest her? What if they tortured her to find out where I was hiding? Worse yet, what if they did and she didn’t tell them? She was stubborn. Stubborn and protective— a mix that made her a great sister but not the best subject for a king to rule. I shivered, closing my eyes, hoping that she wasn’t in trouble.

Kyanna Rosenfeld

I was in the barn. The horse spooked in the night and put her foot through the side of her stall, and I’d spent the better part of the morning trying to repair it. It was a tricky fix—a weight bearing beam of the wall. I wasn’t sure how to mend it without bringing the whole wall down on myself. I turned my head to the side, squinting through the hole, and carefully slid my hand through it, testing the small plank I’d nailed up beside it.

I heard a footstep behind me. I didn’t turn. My little brother often liked to try to sneak up on me—far too often for me to give him a reaction every time. “Knock it off, Auron.”

No answer.

I sighed, rubbing my face. Sometimes he decided to be stubborn, and continue stalking even once the game was over. He’s just a little kid, I reminded myself. It’s okay to play when you’re a little kid. There was no reason why I shouldn’t play too. I whirled around, working up a playful growl. I stopped my lunge short when I saw the blue fabric of a soldier’s trousers in front of me, rather than my little brother’s smiling face.

Before I could react a large hand grabbed my shoulder, and a second hand grabbed a fistful of my hair. The soldier hauled me to my feet, mostly by the hair, and shoved me toward the door without a word. I yelped. “Ow! That hurts!”

“Shut up.” He snapped gruffly.

“You’re hurting me!” I complained as he threw me down on my feet, dug his fingernails into my arm, and began dragging me toward the house. His grasp tightened on my arm. I pulled against him. “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you here? Ow! My arm! Why are you—“

He stopped and whirled around on me, lifting his hand threateningly. His hair was brown, cut short. His face was contorted into a snarl, a scar running over the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes harsh and menacing. “Shut up.”

I clenched my teeth, glaring, and half trotted beside him into the house. It was best not to push it with soldiers. They liked hitting me.

The mean man dragged me into my house, where four other soldiers were standing around Father. I stumbled forward into their midst as he gave me a shove. The instant I regained my balance I straightened my back and pulled my shoulders back, trying my best to look brave.

“I found that brat in the barn.”

“Oh, very good. You found the little girl.” Captain Vasyrn said sarcastically. “Now if only you’d found the boy, like you were ordered.”

“I didn’t see him, sir.” The soldier answered stiffly.

“Then perhaps you should go look again, Sergeant Mikaelson.”

“Yes, sir.” The mean man said through grit teeth, then turned and left the house.

I hesitated, hopelessly confused, looking up at all of the soldiers timidly and wishing my blasted courage would return to me. It always seemed to leave when I needed it the most. I glanced down at the small cuts in my arm, inflicted by the mean man—Mikaelson’s—fingernails.

“Kyanna? Are you alright?” Father was trying to pull the bandages off his eyes.

“Yes, Father.” I answered quickly, taking a step toward him.

The Captain held his hand out, roughly giving me a shove backward. “Stay away from him, brat.”

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Shut up.”

“Why are you--?” I bit my question off as Captain Vasyrn lifted his hand threateningly.

~

Suddenly Sergeant Mikaelson came back in, dragging Auron behind him by an arm. I instantly started toward them, to get between the mean soldier and my baby brother. I groaned as Captain Vasyrn stepped forward half a moment before I could and held his fist out, driving it into my stomach as I lunged forward, stealing every speck of air I had in me. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked me backward, onto the floor. “Stay.”

I sat clutching my middle, trying to catch my breath, watching. The Captain stepped forward and roughly pulled Auron to his feet, critically evaluating him. “It’s not very big.”

“He’s only eight… Sir.” A glare from the Captain made me decide to add the “sir”.

“He’ll have to do. The King isn’t pleased that your household isn’t contributing a single thing to his Imperial Mines.”

“I’m going back as soon as I can see again.” Father defended.

“I spoke to that old man you call Doctor. You’re not going to see again.”

“No!” I stumbled to my feet. “He’ll get better.”

“Shut up, swine.” Mikaelson sneered, backhanding me so hard I stumbled into the wall.

“Kya!” Auron screamed, tears streaming down his dirty face.

“…The boy is going to make himself useful.” Captain Vasyrn finished, looking at me pointedly.

“He’s too young.” Father argued.

“He’s old enough.”

“He’s too little.” I was struggling to stand straight, my stomach aching, shoulders and arms sore.

“He’ll be fine… maybe.” Vasyrn chuckled cruelly, “Who knows, but you might have two blind little invalids to take care—“

“He’s not going.” Father said firmly.

“Look, old man, you’ve got two options. You can go to the king and argue your case with him, which I don’t recommend, he hasn’t been in the most welcoming mood lately; or the worthless boy can pull his own weight.”

“No!” I started toward Mikaelson, who was yanking Auron toward the door.

“You are on your last chance.” Captain Vasyrn snarled, shoving his finger in my face.

“You may not take—” Father started.

“May not?” Vasyrn turned back on Father, scoffing. “I don’t need your permission. I’ve got orders from the king—“

“Auron stays.”

“The boy goes, and if you don’t shut up I’ll—“

“You’ll what?”

“Run my sword through your—”

“I’ll go!”

“Shut—what?” Vasyrn stopped suddenly, turning on me.

“The king wants someone to work, right?” I wet my lips nervously, not quite sure of the source the idea or my sudden courage.

“Aye.”

“He didn’t say who?”

“I suppose not…”

“Then I’ll go work—”

“Absolutely not!” Father said. “You’re not taking my—”

Mikaelson, threw Auron onto the ground and walked over to Father. The soldier hit Father so hard in the mouth his chair fell backward. He groaned, grabbing his head. I felt a deep hate like I’d never felt before well up inside me, against that soldier. I wanted to hurt him. I didn’t know how yet, I just wanted him to hurt worse than he hurt Father.

“You can’t be serious.” Vasyrn’s cold eyes were locked on mine.

I could scarcely breathe I was so scared. Scared that Father was hurt. Scared that the soldiers were going to take my baby brother. Scared that every speck of my fleeting courage would desert me, before I could stand strong for my family—a good portion of it was already gone. I didn’t know if I was serious or not. I didn’t even know what I was thinking, until I heard myself volunteer. I glanced at father and cringed at the blood dribbling from his lip. “I just want my family to be safe, sir. I’ll go willingly if we can just go, and leave them alone.”

He was silent a long moment, before shrugging. “Fine with me. Go on then, brat.”

He gave me a shove toward the door. Mikaelson stepped up to my side and grabbed my shoulder, digging his fingernails into my flesh once more, renewing my hate. Vasyrn stepped to my other side and grabbed my other shoulder. Together they gave me a push—right off the end of the porch. I yelped as I flew head first into the yard and—

I gasped as I landed… on the wooden floor. I blinked stupidly, trying to figure out where I was.

“Well, now, did that little fall wake you up, or are you still sleeping?”

I moved my head to look way up at Father, where he still sat in his chair. I grunted at him and pushed myself up with a groan. I glared for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. I couldn’t. I frowned. “What’s going on?” And why are my arms so sore?

“Oh, you’ve had lots of adventures today—but right now all you need to worry about is getting into bed.”

I glanced at The Book, fallen open and crumpled on the floor. I quickly bent and gathered it up, my mind making weak connects suddenly. “What is—oh… did I fall asleep? Oh, I’m such a — where were we?”

“I was picking a reading. I think the twenty-seventh prayer, the first part.”

“Okay…” I flipped to the correct page, and slowly began to read. The words were swimming before me on the page, my eyes burning, my mind beginning to wander and stumble on the memories of earlier. Of Mikaelson and not visiting Auron, of the beating I took, of what could have happened—I started reading. “’The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’”

I frowned at the page. The soldiers. I will be afraid of the soldiers. The Lord might be the strength of my life—but what if the soldiers manage to take that life from me? Worse yet, what if they take the life of my Father or of Auron?

“Kya?”

I cleared my throat. “’When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.’ I wish…” I glanced up at Father’s disapproving frown. I sighed and tried to let go of some of the bitterness I felt toward Mikaelson... and all of the soldiers that made me work in the mines. “‘Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.’”

I hesitated again, staring down at the words. I sure wasn’t confident. I felt like there was a war about to break loose very soon, and I was pretty sure I’d be caught in the middle of it. Father put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll all turn out alright. Get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” I murmured, standing up to put The Book away. Clumsily I hauled myself up into the loft, and squirmed out of my dirty clothes before falling into bed. I was ready for bed. I felt like sleeping for the rest of my life.