Dark Chalk

Join Master Elisha as they try to ensure the Hunters and Traders under their watch survive the night they are forced to spend in a cave belonging to Darkhearts. Written in 43 A.S.

It was a rain-sodden, mud-stained, wind-swept disaster of a summer evening when the Constant Duty ran aground. This not being the first time I was on a ship as heavily laden as this one, I knew what came next. We threw out the gangplank and my Hunters and I disembarked onto the riverbank. There were six of us, myself and one squad led by Brother Valentine. I gave the order to secure a perimeter, which the squad swiftly did. They were some of our best, on their way home from a demonstration to the people of Iosabale, which I had overseen. I may be biassed, as I was the one to teach them, but they gave a good account of the Hunters of Fenblith, worthy of pride.

Once the perimeter had been established, Master Ivor, who was in charge of the Constant Duty, gave the order to begin offloading it. The goal was to make the ship light enough to allow it to rise in the water and be led across the sand it was stuck on before loading it up again and moving on towards Fenblith. Thunder rumbled in the distance as Master Ivor’s crew began to shift the cargo, all ten of them heaving up and down the gangplank while the last of the day’s light was swallowed by darkening clouds. Master Ivor shouted directions, but it wasn’t long until a shout came back from beneath the deck.

Water.

The ship had hit a rock hidden beneath the surface, cracking the hull and letting water flow inside. Wishing to save what could be saved, Master Ivor went down to help shift the cargo, crates piling up on the shore as the rain thickened into a torrent lashed by lightning. When the ship was offloaded, the Traders joined us on the shore, Master Ivor sidling up to me. He shouted over the wind and rain that the ship wouldn’t sink any further in the shallow waters and that he might be able to repair it, but not before the storm had passed. I nodded, calling Valentine to me. I ordered him to take his squad and find us a place to wait out the storm. He protested, saying he couldn’t leave me to protect eleven Traders by myself. I told him not to underestimate what a Master Hunter could do and to follow my orders. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, taking his squad away from the shore.

It didn’t take long for two of them, Sister Soyala and Brother Louis, to return. They had found a cave, offering solid shelter from the storm and an easily defensible position. There was but one caveat: it had recently been inhabited by Darkhearts.

The Traders were uneasy at this news. I hardly blamed them; I couldn’t expect them to be comfortable sleeping in the lair of those who would worship the Dark Ones. But we needed shelter, so I gave the order and – reluctantly – the Traders followed to the cave, carrying with them the goods most in danger of being damaged by water.

We arrived shortly, Sister Ada and Sister Cordelia awaiting us at the mouth of the cave. The entrance was blocked with makeshift barricades of tree trunks tied together with twine, leaving only a foot or two between their top and the arch of the cave’s mouth. Soyala and Louis helped Ada and Cordelia replace the barricades as soon as the Traders and myself had entered the cave. Its walls were rough and pale; an outcrop of chalk seemingly rising from the earth to swallow our entire group, spacious enough to shelter all seventeen of us. Lining the walls were rough-hewn shelves strewn with basic bowls, cups, knives, and some tools. Several were made of bone and antler. The floor was hidden underneath a layer of fur-covered skins. I suppressed a shudder as I felt their softness underneath my feet.

Valentine was in the cave’s rear, where tied up branches made for panels behind which food might have been stored, though it was an empty black hole now. Fire-wood was piled up to the panels’ sides. Happy with the find, we began to build a fire near the entrance of the cave to allow ourselves to dry and warm, as our soggy clothes had begun to chill us. Some of the Traders begged us to burn the hides and tools, but I refused. The smoke would choke us until we had no option but to go back into the storm. Better to hurl the animal parts outside instead.

Thus, we claimed our shelter, shifting a mount of skin and bone into the storm, setting our salvaged cargo in the dry corners of the cave, and warming ourselves around the fire. Thankfully, we had already eaten on the ship, so all that was left was to form a watch and go to sleep. Naturally, the Hunters would take the watch, and we quickly formed an arrangement whereby Valentine and Ada would take first watch, Soyala and Louis would take second, and Cordelia and I would take third and last. We settled in around the fire – not as comfortable as in a Fenblithian rest house, but dry and safe – and we slept.

I was awoken by Valentine. Even through the haze of dissipating sleep, this seemed odd; there was a watch between ours. Valentine moved deeper into the cave, gesturing for me to follow. As I rose, I realised the storm had blown over. Blinking up through the gap above the barricades, my suspicion was confirmed by the deep darkness of the sky: I had been woken early.

Quietly, I moved away from the slumbering Traders, asking Valentine and Ada what was wrong. They exchanged a glance and Valentine told me they had heard a sound not unlike a garbled voice. I asked if they thought the Darkhearts were returning, glancing at the cave's blocked entrance as I talked. Valentine shook his head. The sound had come from deeper within the cave.

I asked what they meant and in response they quietly removed the panels in the cave’s rear. Ada picked up a small piece of gravel and tossed it into the dark. There was no sound when there should have been, the rock hitting something far later and far deeper within the cave than should have been possible. Perturbed, I took a slender piece of firewood and went to stick it in the dwindling but still burning campfire. Some of the Traders roused as the wood took flame, but I ignored them, walking towards the dark pit of the cave’s rear and sticking the burning torch inside. The light caught on the pale walls, revealing the space we had believed to be for food storage. In the centre – sloping down into an unlit abyss – was a hole just large enough for a person to crawl through. I took another stone and tossed it into the hole, the sound of impact coming much too late for comfort. Then another sound rose from the cave, from much deeper within, indeed not unlike a garbled voice.

I cursed, and told Ada to rouse everyone. Valentine asked me if I intended for him and his Hunters to descend into the cave. I told him I intended to descend alongside them. Darkhearts lurked nearby, and as a Hunter of Fenblith I had no intention of leaving them be. He nodded, turning as Soyala, Louis, Cordelia, and the Traders woke and got up. Some of the Traders were annoyed we woke them, others were scared of why we did so, but the Hunters were calm and ready, making me glad to be their Master. I explained briefly what had happened and that I intended to lead a Hunt into the cave. The Traders nodded, understanding the necessity of killing the Darkhearts. Together, we formed a plan. In order to ensure the Traders’ safety, they would replace the panels after we had descended, blocking them with whatever they could and only removing them if a signal was given, namely the pass phrase ‘Constant Duty’.

Satisfied the Traders would be as safe as possible, we discussed our plan. We agreed to leave our firearms behind. They would be a boon in a fight in the open, but within the echoing caves they would be a liability, not to mention the choking smoke that would have nowhere to go. Still, no Darkheart could hope to stand against a Hunter with a sabre, so we were confident we could win a fair fight. The question was whether the fight would be fair. We discussed the possibility of traps, but with the crudeness of the tools and barricades we had seen, we agreed that any trap would be easy to identify and avoid. We also discussed the number of Darkhearts we expected. Based on the amount of bowls and cups we saw around us, we estimated there would be no more than ten, likely fewer. Even if there were a few more, each of us would only have to defeat two or at the most three Darkhearts – a small feat. Smoothly, we agreed on our positionings, with Valentine forming up the rear to keep an eye on his squad and Soyala and myself – the most skilled sword fighters – as the vanguard.

With that, we were ready to begin our descent. I tossed a burning torch down the hole, illuminating the passage. I then slid down after it, leaving behind my cuirass so that I would fit. The passage opened up into a wider cavern, large enough for the six of us to regroup before continuing. Valentine let my armour drop after me, allowing me to re-equip and take up my guttering torch before coming down himself. We had an unlit torch, which he lit on my flame after putting his own cuirass back on. Thus we continued, until all six of us were down the hole, Master Ivor having tossed the last cuirass after us. We each stood with sabre drawn, the Starsteel glittering like dancing embers in the light of our torches. We pressed into the cave.

As we went, the passage wide enough for us to walk abreast, I recalled how our shelter had initially struck me as a mouth rising from the earth and considered what that meant now that we were travelling deeper into the cave. I envisioned a Dark One swallowing us, consuming us, breaking us down into components for the creation of Beasts. I suppressed a shudder and passed through a simple calming routine drilled into me from youth to keep myself sharp and focussed. The Darkhearts knew we were coming and we were in their domain; I would not give them further advantage by failing to control my mind.

A small shape on the wall caught my eye as my torchlight flickered over it. The shape was a straight line cutting across the curve of the stone, suddenly angling aside near the bottom. As the flames passed over it, a shadow stretched out from it – longer than it should have been, as if it were reaching out. I wanted to stop, to study the mark and see why it made the shadow look so odd. But we were on the Hunt, so I pressed on.

As we continued, more shapes caught my eye. They were akin to the first: straight lines, many of them with sudden angles, the shadows stretching out of them. When the symbols became denser, the walls themselves seemed to stretch out, reaching beyond their true dimensions before snapping back into shape and beginning to stretch again. I recalled reports containing descriptions of similar symbols, going back to one of the first Hunts thirty-five years ago. The symbols had always been paired with Beasts pouncing while Hunters were distracted, so I instructed everyone to ignore the walls and keep their eyes firmly ahead and their minds firmly grounded.

It was dizzying, the passage seeming to go on forever as it appeared to bend around us. Cold sweat tickled my back as the image of a Dark One swallowing us resurfaced in my mind, the tunnel feeling like some gargantuan throat forcing me down into a cavernous stomach.

Then the passage widened into a cavern, and my knees almost buckled at the thought of my horrifying vision coming true. By the strength of my experience alone did I step into the dark and cast my torchlight around.

It caught on a group of huddled figures.

Light flooded the space as the others stepped alongside me and raised their own torches, revealing our quarry. There were only six of them, huddled in the centre of the cavern. I would have been relieved, ready to exact swift justice on these people before leaving in peace.

But they weren’t people.

The first of them rose. It was over seven feet tall with knees bent and shoulders slumped. Its long, slender body was covered in skin pulled so taut it might break. Ears like knives rose around its bare scalp, twitching as I and the other Hunters sank into fighting poses. Its hands and feet were pulled out of shape so as to almost be unrecognisable, the claws longer than my fingers. Needle-like teeth dripped saliva on the cavern floor, which I now saw was covered in symbols, the whole space shifting so as to make me almost lose my balance. The other five figures rose as well. They weren’t as tall as the first, but their gangly bodies had the same stooped build, the same merciless claws.

The transformed Darkhearts fanned out, lining up so that each of them faced one of us. Six against six, Hunter against Beast, Starsteel against claw underneath the firelit earth. The reports of past Hunters flooded my mind, the stories of Saints who faced odds far worse than these. I gave the order to give each other room to fight. Silently, my Hunters stepped apart, the Darkhearts following suit with slow, awkward gait. The tallest of them was across from me, pack leader against Master. It was as in a story.

Then the pack leader screamed – a garbled, drawn-out mockery of a voice – and the cavern descended into chaos and bloodshed.

We clashed with the Darkhearts in a shower of ichor and blood. Ada cut across her opponent’s chest but received a cut through the throat in return. She dropped to her knees choking on her blood.

Valentine exchanged vicious blows with his Darkheart. Catching the Beast’s attacks on his armour, he managed to partially sever one of its arms, its black ichor spurting. Before being able to capitalise, however, the Darkheart that had felled Ada threw itself on him. He screamed as its needle-teeth sank into his neck.

Soyala moved with cool grace, stepping around her Beast and cutting it down as it rushed past. She darted towards Valentine, cleaving the skull of the Darkheart that was now feasting on him before moving on to finish the one he had injured.

Cordelia made a forceful thrust, catching her Beast on the tip of her sabre. Ichor gushed as it was impaled, but its momentum carried it forward, and Cordelia yelped as the Darkheart’s claws scored her eyes in its death throes.

Louis dodged his Beast but did not manage to cut it down as Soyala had. He danced around the cave, trying to keep his opponent at a distance while unable to finish it.

The pack leader came at me in a blinding rush. It towered over me, its arms extending far beyond my reach, but it was clumsy to my eyes. Gauging my opportunity, I struck, severing the Darkheart’s head and immediately bringing my blade into a guard and catching its flailing arm as it dropped. I stepped aside, wrenching the Beast on Cordelia’s sword away from her with the back of my sabre as I passed and driving my blade through the back of the Beast fighting Louis.

Silence descended, save for Cordelia’s ragged breath. Ichor and blood covered the symbol-strewn floor, but the fight – fast and fierce – was done.

The Beasts were dead.

Or were they?

With sudden, jolting movements, Valentine and Ada began to twitch. Their blood streamed over the symbols and they seemed to move in response, trembling with the lifeforce flowing across them. My Siblings’ bodies began to stretch, popping into the same horrid shape as the Beasts that had slain them. Soyala was closest to them, but she stood horrified, doubting.

It was left to me.

With a yelp of anguish, I crossed the cavern. I rushed past wounded Cordelia, jumped over the slain pack leader, and plunged my sabre into what once was Ada as she began to rise. Wrenching free my blade, I turned to face Valentine.

He was already coming for me.

His gangly arms cut and slashed in a flurry of attacks I could only just fend off. Allowing my muscles to make the movements automatically, I strung together cut after defensive cut, striking away the Beast’s attacks in a whirl of Starsteel. I had taught Valentine to fight. He was never to be a savant with the sword, but he was a dedicated pupil, and I am proud to say he learned what he knew from me. It hurt me to see him so changed, so grotesque; his Hunter’s gear awkward on his elongated body, exposing his abdomen, forearms, and shins. It hurt me even more to see him so familiar, so the same. In his twisted features, I still saw the face that had watched my every move so intently during training, that had gleamed so proudly when comprehending some new technique. Ichor flicked into my face as the Beast’s arms turned to shreds against my sabre, but I hesitated, wavered.

Then Soyala saved me.

Her sabre burst forth from what had been Valentine’s abdomen. His movements faltered, eyes bulging at the blade before rolling into his head. He sagged, and Soyala withdrew her blade and let him drop away. We stood there: panting, horrified, unable to speak, finding but little comfort in the knowledge that now, truly…

The Beasts were dead.