The Edge of Darkness

The Edge of Darkness

CHAPTER ONE

Aramac wandered the forest, alone and lost. He was cold, tired, dirty and very hungry. It had been many months since he had eaten more than just the scant few berries and edible leaves he had found growing around him. He had encountered some of the dangerous beasts that inhabited the woods and came out second best. Most of his wounds had healed over, but the deep gash on his leg was festering. Without medication it would only get worse. Although the canopy overhead was quite dense, the rain still managed to find him. He was soaked to the skin and shivering violently. Night was coming and the temperature had already started dropping. It would be very cold tonight, winter was getting closer. Aramac needed to find shelter for the night, and soon. On he limped, in search of just such a place.

Before long, he spotted a cave entrance ahead. Raising his spear, he approached cautiously. There was a good chance some wild animal had also taken refuge from the weather here. Quietly, he approached the opening and peered inside. It appeared empty, but looks could be deceiving. Gingerly, and in desperation, he entered and paused while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. While he waited, he listened. Nothing so far. When he was convinced there were no animals inside, he continued. His trembling hands gathered the few dry stick that he could feel on the cave floor, and he withdrew some dry kindling from a small waterproof bag inside his coat. Taking out his flints, he struck them, creating sparks, and very soon he had the kindling lit. Within minutes, a fire was well under way. The light from the fire showed the cave front to be empty, but it seemed to go back a long way.

Aramac stripped off his soaked boots and coat and warmed himself by the fire. Once he had warmed up enough, he stripped off the remaining wet clothes, took a blanket from his small shoulder bag, and wrapped himself in it. Taking a burning branch from the fire, he walked to the back of the cave to examine it in more detail. At the rear of the cave, the floor dropped away steeply and twisted out of sight. Seeing nothing that gave him concern for his safety, he returned to the warmth of the fire again, and sat down rubbing his hands together. Aramac had no food, but drank some of the rainwater he had collected before laying down to sleep.

Aramac’s dreams drifted back to the reason for his current dilemma. He had not eaten for several days when he came across the village. It was market day. The food on the market stalls looked so good. He picked up an apple and held it up to his face. He could see his reflection in the polished surface. He stepped back to catch the light for a better look. Stop, thief! shouted the stall owner. Aramac looked left and right, to see the peacekeepers hurrying to his position. In panic, he dropped the apple and ran. They followed. Inevitably, he was caught, and brought to the market square for a hearing. He had lost the apple when he ran, so the evidence was gone. The stall owner said, This thief stole a lovely yellow apple from my stall. I demand payment or punishment. I thought it was a red apple? said a neighbour. Maybe it was a blue one? offered another. Yes, it was blue! I saw it too! shouted another. The crowd roared with laughter. The argument became violent as they argued the colour of the apple. Suddenly, and without warning, Aramac made a dash for it. He made it to the village entrance pathway before the peacekeepers dogs caught up with him. They had him down on the ground and proceeded to tear at his clothes and any bare skin; one sank its teeth into his leg. Fighting for his life, he managed to get free and flee back into the forest once more. The peacekeepers followed him for several hours before finally giving up and returning to their role inside the village boundary. For two more days he drove deeper into the woods to escape the unjust punishment that he had been threatened with.

It felt that hardly had his eyes closed, when he was awoken by a growling noise. The previous cave tenants had returned home from their hunting trip, and were not pleased to find they had a squatter. A pack of wolves had returned, and dragged their kill home to eat it in the dry. The wolves spread out, intent on encircling him. Aramac jumped to his feet, grabbing a burning branch from the fire, brandishing it at the nearest wolf. Good doggy, he said, soothingly. Slowly, he backed away as the pack continued to approach.

Before long, he found himself at the rear of the cave and starting on the downward slope. The wolves continued to follow. Walking backwards to keep his eyes on the animals, Aramac approached the unseen ledge, staggered, and fell. When he awoke several hours later, he was still wrapped in his blanket, and lying on a sandy surface. The ledge he had fallen off, was some thirty feet above him. There was no sign of the wolves, which told him that there was no other way for them to get down there, or back up if they had followed him.

Aramac managed to get to his feet, and limping badly, explored the tunnel he now found himself in. His leg wound was turning nasty, and he found himself shaking, sweating and burning up. He was delirious and his sight was blurred. Aramac followed the many twists and turns of the tunnel, tripping and stumbling and falling. All this because of the colour of an apple I DIDN’T steal! He fumed silently. The rage was building up inside him. As he went along in his anger, he tripped again, but this time he landed badly. A crack could be heard as he went down. He had now broken his bad leg in the fall amongst the rocks he was weaving his way through. Aramac cried out in pain. Still sobbing, he dragged himself along the sandy and rocky floor in search of an exit, but instead, he found a small wooden square. Dragging himself into a sitting position, he tried to examine the object. Maybe it contained food . . . or water. Oh, how he longed for some water!

He lay on his back, clutching the mysterious object to his chest without really thinking about it. His mind wandered . . . it was a red apple, no! It was yellow, governor. Maybe it was blue? YEAH! It was a blue one, I swear it! IT WAS RED . . . NO BLUE . . . NO, IT WAS YELLOW! You bastards! he shouted out loud. He picked up the small box still lying on his chest and threw it at the cave wall opposite. The lid broke open and fell to the sandy floor. He continued to lie on his back with his eyes closed when a hushed voice suddenly whispered to him. Aramac opened his eyes and tried to focus, but could not see the vague dark cloud form and shape into a humanoid figure in front of him. All that he knew was the soft and soothing, familiar voice telling him that he would be fine, and the soft hand stroking his brow before he fell asleep.

Aramac awoke feeling stronger and healthier than he could ever remember. He stood up, and his broken leg was healed. He felt great, alive; electric. Then the voice spoke to him again, but this time from inside his own mind. Now we are one. Together we cannot be beaten. Together we will live forever. Now Aramac knew. This was his destiny. This was what he had been searching for his whole life. He had heard the voice call to him in his dreams since he was a small boy. And now he was finally home.

He strode back down the tunnel with a new confidence. He looked up at the ledge he had fallen from, and held out his arms. Suddenly, he lifted off the ground and ascended to the ledge above, landing gently. Walking with no fear, he returned to the cave entrance. The wolves were still there, growling and snarling at him as he approached. He stood quite still until the alpha male charged him. It leapt for his throat. With one hand he caught it by the neck and squeezed. Once it was dead, he dropped it and stepped forward to meet the next one. The remaining wolves all attacked together, and within a few minutes, they all lay dead beside their pack leader.

Aramac left the cave and stepped out into daylight. The rain had stopped. He dressed and made his way back to the village that had persecuted him. There he is! shouted the market stall owner. The fool has returned to try again! several people tried to get to him, to take him into custody, but with a wave of his hands, they were thrown across the village square. A crowd gathered around him, then Aramac spoke. All this for an apple that I did not steal? Was it red? Or yellow? What about blue? Now it is your time to pay! As you seem to be preoccupied with colours, let’s see how you live without them! Aramac opened his arms wide, then brought his hands together above his head in a huge clap. With that his body exploded with colours of such intensity, which slowly turned to a dense grey fog as they faded. The fog stretched a mile up into the air and covered the entire surface of the planet. It lasted for ten days, and when it finally cleared, all colour, everywhere, was gone. Everything was now just simply shades of grey. Aramac was never seen again.

Five thousand years had passed. Aramac had long since passed into legend, but something was beginning to stir . . .

CHAPTER TWO

Tumbleweed stepped out of his small, shabby-looking thatched cottage at the edge of Greywood Waters and into his small, tidy back garden, locking his kitchen door behind him. There were no other houses within a mile of his home. He stood still, looking around nervously. Usually when he came out here, it was to admire the view across the lake as the light-grey sun was rising over the distant mountains, and the mist slowly dissipating as the temperature rose, but not today. He was tired. He had spent most of the night poring over his many-times-great-grandfathers’ ancient, handed-down medical books in search of a cure for one of his patients. He only needed one more ingredient to complete the potion, but he knew of nowhere he could get it locally. As far as he was aware, it had not been seen at all in the last fifty years, since he himself was just a young Stelt. He pushed his pinch-nosed spectacles back up the bridge of his wide, flat nose and looked around again, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the early morning light. As the forests only physician, he was regularly called upon to make his own natural or herbal remedies to care for the sick and the elderly. His fame and success at this had spread, and creatures of all kinds came from near and far to seek his help.

Are you sure this place you have selected will have what we need, Peter? asked Tumbleweed. Peter, the enchanted pencil, stuck his head out of Tumbleweed’s smock pocket. Quite certain. You asked me to research that while you were making that foul smelling mixture, and I am quite sure it is right. Very well, he sighed. In his left hand, Tumbleweed clutched a small white cloth bag, tied at the top by a single grey lace threaded through hand-stitched eyelets and ending in a neat bow. It had the words, With Thanks, embroidered on the side. The bag had been made for him by one of his patients who was unable to pay for his services, as were many. He smiled at the memory it invoked. HhWhen he was sure no one was around, he loosened the bow and opened the pouch. Putting his small furry hand inside, he pulled out a small amount of grey powder. Tumbleweed threw the fine dust up into the cold, still morning air directly in front of him, and as it fell back to earth, glittering in the sunlight, he walked in to it, sneezed loudly, and promptly vanished from sight.

As well as being a physician, Tumbleweed was a Slider. He had the knowledge to open a doorway, a crack if you will, to another place and ‘slide’ through. Most Stelts had a small knowledge of basic magic, which Tumbleweed used to enhance his medication, and it was through this, he made Peter come to life – quite by accident! He would concoct his magical powder and go in search of ingredients that were no longer available locally; in this case, a rare fungi known as Amanita muscaria – a toadstool with a red cap covered in white spots, but of course in his world, it was just different shades of grey. This ‘Sliding’ was a secret he did not share with anyone. He had discovered it quite by chance some forty years earlier when he was trying to perfect a remedy for warts. It had made him sneeze, and the powder went everywhere. When it finally settled, he was no longer in his laboratory!

Tumbleweed arrived at his destination and looked about him urgently, to ensure that his arrival had not been seen. He took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the many colours once more, then sneezed again. He had had no success at trying to rid himself of this