"Crusade of Darkness" by Becca Lusher

The fire crackled pitifully, the only thing in this barren land to provide any semblance of light. Far above the stars were shining, more brilliant than he had ever seen before, but he had no heart to look skywards. Too much guilt weighed his gaze down to the earth.

What was he doing here?

The lone watchman, huddled next to his fire, was not focused on the job. He did not sleep, for he could not, even had he wished to. Too many thoughts swirled around his mind and he found that they were the only things for company in this dark and desolate place.

A soldier, that was what they claimed him to be and he had signed up eagerly. There was no shame in being a soldier, no one could accuse him of anything; a noble profession. So what if he was using it as an excuse to run away, or that was how it had been at first. Now he was not so sure it had been such a wise move. Had he run from one stifling problem only to be wrapped within another? Shutting his eyes for a brief moment of respite, he hoped not.

His feet ached, oh how they pained him. Groaning he uncurled his stiff knees and faced his feet to the fire, letting the warmth soothe them a bit. Walking, that was all he was doing. Not too noble a job really, walking all day long while the priests rode back and forth, back and forth, the pounding of their horses hooves a dull echo in his mind. He liked the sound, it was all he hoped to hear whenever the priests drew near, but he was never that lucky. Always the hooves were accompanied by a cloud of dust which made the soldiers cough and rub their eyes, but the priests cared nothing for their discomfort. Above whatever other sounds may be going on around them they would quote the scriptures, loudly, fanatically; they would tell of the rules of the gods and the laws of life and how these men would be eternally blessed for their service. Then why did it sound and feel like a curse?

So far from home, so distant, in an alien land where the locals hid at the very sight of them. Yet those were the clever ones. Every village they past through they left in ruins. It was the way of the scriptures, or so the priests would claim. They were heathens, devils in the eyes of Gods. They worshipped false idols, renegade demons and as a soldier of the Lords he would take part in the killing. Every day would dawn bright and clear, yet the stain on the horizon would match the stain on his hands, on his mind, on his conscious. On his soul.

All to achieve the perfection of oneness, to spread the good word. As far as this soldier was concerned there was no good in it, not if by spreading it you had to kill. What right did these priests have to enter another land, a land they knew nothing of and proceed to massacre the inhabitants? It was a twisted world, indeed it was. A race for domination, history told it so. Always there were others who wanted someone else’s land, money, power and now it was faith. Grind them down into the dust until fear would rule. They would not worship these new gods because they believed in them. Faith had nothing to do with it, fear was what ruled people. Fear of death, pain, suffering; powerful weapons, but were they right?

No, of course they weren’t, but even those in religious guise cared little for what was right. They cared only for themselves and their immortal soul, and mortal pocket if he was being cynical. There was much to be gained from being a crusader, or a missionary, death was all part of it, although the more noble would be your own. He often thought about it, what death would be like for him, yet he was too afraid. There was now so much blood on his hands that he feared what the afterlife would spell for him. And everyday there was more.

“These are the ties that bind us,” he whispered to the fire; it crackled and spat in response. For its company he fed it a few more of the brittle twigs and sticks, all that they had managed to gather on their hard day’s trek. It wouldn’t last the night, but it would last for now. It was not warmth he desired, but light, something which would shine brightly and give him hope. Something to provide a noise in this deathly silence, some kind of distraction to tempt him away from his bleak thoughts.

Tipping his head back he watched the stars, glittering above him. Serene, distant, perfect; they had no qualms over the foolishness of mortals and their never ending quest to deal out death. What would they say to him, if only they could talk? Would they judge him, like he judged himself? “What are you thinking?” He asked them, not expecting an answer.

“Couldn’t sleep.” The muttered voice startled him so much that he all but fell into the fire. “Hey, easy there,” the voice laughed again, before the speaker came into view.

“Evening Sidereus,” the night watchman greeted the new comer, recognising his fellow soldier. “And Erro.” A second soldier appeared out of the gloom, seeking company and light.

Both nodded back politely, “Evening Caligo,” while watching him with their strange eyes. For a moment all were silent as the watchman mused on his new companions. He had been talking to the stars, and then these two had appeared. Looking at Sidereus it was almost as if the stars themselves had answered, they shined ever constant in his eyes. It was hardly surprising he was named for them. Caligo had never found out if Sidereus was his birth name or not, it may have been simply a nickname, either way it fitted him perfectly. His companion, Erro, had eyes that reminded him of the sea; they were an ever changing swell of grey and green. It made him homesick for that remembered place by the seaside; tucked into a small bay, with golden sand, carved out of the cliffs above by the harsh pounding of the seas. Back home there was no gold with which to buy off invading religious fanatics and their murderous hordes, just silver. The silver of a fish’s scales as it writhed in the morning light, the currency of life down by the seashore. It seemed so idyllic now, looking back, and yet he had run away from all that, hadn’t he? That was after all why he was here?

“Time passes so slowly.” Sidereus broke the silence between the three, his starlit eyes gazing upwards. “What time is it?”

“Around midnight.” Caligo shifted, trying to ease the cramp which was developing in his neck. “It has been a long night,” he sighed.

“Are you watching alone?” Erro wondered, but it was obvious Caligo was, for there was no one else awake in this part of the camp. “I didn’t think that was allowed?”

Caligo chuckled, reaching out to warm his stiff hands. “I sent Amiculus to bed, he was sleeping anyway, so I figured he may as well be comfortable while doing it.”

“That was kind of you.”

“It was, wasn’t it,” he winked across at them and was rewarded with smiles. “Why are you out here?”

“Told you, couldn’t sleep,” Sidereus told him with a yawn. When Caligo raised an eyebrow at him he laughed, “Doesn’t mean I’m not tired though.”

“I do not believe I have ever been so weary,” Erro remarked, shifting nearer the fire, though it wasn’t cold. “My very bones ache with the tiredness of trudging in line, day after day after day, now it has come to the point where no sleep will help and so I cannot. It worsens, I see no end in sight.” The others fell quiet in silent agreement. It was monotonous and exhausting, but there was no choice in the matter. The priests only stopped their onward slaughter for one thing; to hunt down deserters. There had been many days halt at the start of the journey, while the fervour in the priests eyes grew as they unleashed their bloodhounds. Their monstrous howls had haunted the soldiers for days, only changing in pitch when they found what they were seeking. Then there would be the silence and a chill would creep into the souls of the halted men; what fate would befall the runaways? Sometimes the deserter would return, more often they wouldn’t. None escaped. Those who returned never lasted long, so harsh were the beatings that often they would die of blood loss, infection, fever, or broken spirit. After the first few weeks of this no-one dared to escape again and the days had become unbroken marching, ever onwards towards the featureless horizon.

The march through the continent had passed easily, cultured cities which they past by, never through, cultivated fields to break up the landscape and maintained tracks and roads. It was hard work, but bearable. The first runaways had been forced into the army in the first place, they just wanted to get home. They would never have lasted the trip as slowly the known world trailed away. It was time to walk off the map.

“The lands of the heathens will be harsh and ill-favoured for they live not in the light of the Lords. We, who march upon this sullied soil, are bringing the true faith to shine upon them. Fortune lies in your soul for you are the chosen of the Lords, and you shall be treated favourably in the Beyond.”

They would ride up and down the columns until the soldiers could recite what they were saying word for word, right down to the pitch, tone and pauses. Everyday a new verse would be barked across the sea of souls, variations on a similar theme, all telling of the glory of the invasion they were bringing.

Then came the first day of the true crusade. “Heathens cannot be treated the same as you or I, for they are not men, they are but demons. They have been led off the path of righteousness and have fallen from the light. We have come to guide those souls which were misguided. We have come to show them the way back to the light. We come to spread the word of the Beyond, of the Lords who reside there and to banish the darkness. We are their saviours, you are their salvation. We are the forces of good.” These words were shouted with fervour over the dying screams. Men, women, children, none would escape the slaughter.

“And the guilt will forever weigh us down.” Caligo tore his mind from his thoughts, fearing to dwell on the rough outlines of why they were here, the details would surely follow and he couldn’t handle them again. It had been hard enough to live through them once. He couldn’t do it another time.

“Why are you here, Caligo?” Erro wondered, shivering again, though it still wasn’t cold. It never was here; they were trapped in a dead valley. The heat had been building to sweltering levels ever since they had first set foot within its borders. And now the flies buzzed, covering the bodies they had left so callously as they marched onwards. Always they hummed on the edge of hearing, a constant reminder of what they had desecrated behind. The quartermasters had a hard time of it keeping them out of the stores; the salted meats and fresh fruits, all stolen from the ruined farms they had left in their wake.

“I’m not sure I remember,” Caligo hedged. “You?”

“I was called,” Erro told him in a quiet voice. He didn’t look up, so he missed the sceptically raised eyebrow from his companion across the fire. A religious fanatic, Caligo thought in disgust.

“And you?” He turned his dark eyes on to Sidereus, thinking he may as well be civil.

Starlit eyes pierced him, pinning him to the spot and Caligo felt as though his whole soul had been laid bare for inspection. Would he be found wanting? He pulled himself together and away from these ridiculous thoughts; Sidereus was just a normal soldier like him. “Seemed a good idea at the time,” he shrugged, one hand ruffling his harsh red crop. “I felt a calling and so I answered. Why are you here?” He narrowed his eyes, making Caligo feel nervous and under suspicion; the repetition of the question was not lost on him.

“I was searching for something.” He settled for somewhere near the truth.

“And did you find it?” The eyes glittered at him.

“Now there is a big question, worthy of debate.” In this was they toiled away the early hours, debating nonsense and steering their minds away from the real business of their exile from home.

~*~

“And so the Lords called out to them and laid down the Laws of Life and all shall follow them. Foremost we must remember to honour the Lords each day, and dutifully the followers did so. Gather all ye strays for the morning has broken and all shall be called to the work. The greatest work a man can do, in the service of our Lords, is to spread the word and so shall we do their bidding.” It was barely dawn in this sickly valley, and already the priests were in full swing. Every so often they would halt by a group of soldiers and say a prayer with them, quizzing them over the scriptures. Fear ruled these moments, the penalties of failure were not to be thought of. Many a soldier had been beaten within an inch of his life and left to rot by the roadside.

“Justice shall be seen to be done!” Cried the preacher as he cantered past. Caligo had to halt for a moment, leaning upon his spear, wiping his streaming eyes and coughing in the dust.

“Whose justice I wonder?” Sidereus mused as his arm came around Caligo’s ribs, helping him along for a few steps while he recovered.

“Thanks,” he muttered when he could breath again.

Sidereus released his hold and offered him a slight smile, “No problem. The least I could do.” Thrown together in this hellish situation meant that all the men looked out for each other, after all they had no one else to do it for them. And anyone seen to be stopping was often accused of deserting, or at least sloth. Most were whipped for the privilege. It wasn’t unusual for one to carry another for a short space of time; they had to take care of one another, it could save their life one day.

“Where’s Erro?” Caligo suddenly noticed his red haired companion was missing his blond friend. They were rarely seen apart.

Sidereus shrugged. “Around.” He didn’t seem bothered so Caligo didn’t press it any further and they trudged on in silence.

The smell in the valley, as the day dragged on, grew to unbearable levels. It was potent and foreboding; death. It stalked in their very shadows, it stained their hands, permeated their clothes and crept up their nostrils. How much longer could things carry on like this?

“I can’t do this,” a mutter from behind before a shallow thump. The dust scattered, not wishing to be tainted by the touch of the damned. That soldier would not get up again. Death. They were all doomed, walking from destruction into damnation, and there was nothing they could do.

~*~

“And the Dark Angel fell down on them, tearing the flesh from their bones by the power of his voice alone. He was the dread one, the fallen, the feared. But nothing can withstand the power of the Light and the faithful stood before his mighty evil, and each one was counted a martyr, a saint and their names will be remembered through all eternity. Aaron, Aberyn, Adam, Aled, Alfred…” And the list went on. Caligo tuned it out, he was too tired to hear their lectures, he knew them all by heart now anyway. The names of the hallowed hundred washed around his memory. So many times had he heard it that no longer did it hold meaning. At times like this he even wished the Dark Angel would swoop down from wherever it was he came from and scream the flesh from his bones. It was a tempting offer to the hell he already faced each day. At least this day had passed with no more slaughter. The only deaths which had dogged his footsteps were the remembered ones which lay behind, and the falling men around him. Disease was running rife amongst the ranks again. He found he cared less and less, death was a welcomed release for them, he pitied them their suffering, but envied them their freedom. What was to become of him?

He cared not, right at this moment in time all he longed for was sleep. At least he wasn’t due for watch tonight, so even if the sleep wouldn’t claim him he could rest. For all the good it would do. The food was foul, half of it rotten, but with nothing else on offer it was the sweetest he had ever tasted, as it slid down his willing throat, sitting heavy and uncomfortable in his dehydrated stomach. Oh but for water, any form, be it a stream, river, lake, sea or rain. How he longed for rain. Never would he complain of a downpour again, he longed for the life of it, the feel, the taste and the fresh, clean smell it left behind. He doubted he would ever be clean again; he was stained, tainted by what he had done and it haunted him. Too tired to warn it away, he fell into place alongside all the others in their exhaustion and welcomed oblivion. Here was his Goddess and how he worshipped her as the blackness swept in and washed him away to her bleak, forgotten shore.

~*~

~*~

He could feel the scream as it shattered around his mind. He was going crazy, losing his sanity, out here in the barren lands where no one would care for him. Abandoned for the scavengers. Left alone to die a sad, lonely death, forgotten. “Go to sleep.” The hand pushed him back down again, he hadn’t even realised he was sitting up. He felt the hand soothe across his forehead, while a blanket was tossed across his shoulders, more for comfort than warmth. “Sleep,” the voice commanded again and Caligo recognised Erro’s soft, calming tone. Unable to deny the power of the voice he shut his eyes and he drifted.

~*~

And he opened his eyes.

“Do not fear to see,” Erro told him gently, as if reminding him of something. Caligo shot him a strange look, before noticing the whole camp was waking around them. “Eyes open.”

“They always are,” Caligo told him. “They always will be.”

~*~

Day turned into night, before it welcomed back the dawn. The horizon stretched to infinite reaches and no longer did he wish to see what lay beyond. Distant mountains leapt into the sky, harsh edges tearing the blue into streaks of white, but no clouds climbed overhead, nothing blocked out the sun. Fiercely it dominated every day, a punishment for the wrongness they were committing below, and yet heat alone was not enough to stop them. The fear of consequence was enough to force them on, always on. No matter how much he envied the sick and the dying their freedom, Caligo was not ready to die yet. He couldn’t. There had to be more to life than this, he thought to himself as his thoughts gathered round to plague him. There had to be another way. He would find it, and death would not take him until he had.

~*~

It came upon him before he even knew it was there; perhaps he had been sleeping while walking, a trick many of the soldiers had learned out here. However it happened, Caligo didn’t see the village until they were amongst the first houses.

It appeared deserted.

Sand trickled under foot, rolling across the empty streets. A stray dog spotted them, froze, barked a warning, but as the soldiers kept on coming, marching in greater numbers down the street, brandishing their spears in their set formations, it turned tail and ran.

“Clever dog,” someone muttered behind and Caligo agreed.

“The heathens are hiding,” the priests began when the troops reached the main square, revealing this village to be more of a town, far larger than Caligo had anticipated. “They are using their witchcraft and demon devilry to conceal themselves. Do not let yourselves be fooled,” they continued. “Use the power of the light to open your eyes and seek for them. They are devils in human guise, they have no right to live. Search! Find them!”

Dispatched into smaller groups, a section of the soldiers were sent into the town to search and discover where they were hiding, or to highlight any areas of interest. These groups were the ones usually responsible for ransacking the food stores, or the livestock. Today Caligo found himself sent out to search. Erro and Sidereus joined him, one on either side. Along with several others they filtered through the streets, swords and spears at the ready for any surprise attack. Caligo felt he had more to fear from the priests than any they would meet out here.

“Split up,” the soldier in charge ordered, dividing everyone in to smaller groups of twos and threes. Caligo didn’t even feel the slightest bit surprised when he was sent with Erro and Sidereus, they seemed to be shadowing him of late. His thoughts troubled him too much to care what they were up to. “You three, that way.” They followed the line of the soldier’s arm and headed down the back street, eyes and ears open for anything suspicious.

Erro paused, holding up his hand to the others behind him. He tilted his head fractionally to one side, before pointing to the left. “I heard something,” he whispered before leading the way. Sidereus remained outside on watch, while Caligo followed his fair headed companion into the gloom of the house. Inside was gloriously cool, built by people who knew the area well, which stone to use and how best to position it to combat the fierce valley temperatures.

A mild squeak and Caligo froze. He tapped Erro’s heel lightly with his spear and pointed to the ground. Erro halted also and they both crouched down. Lying flat against the floor Caligo pressed his ear to the sand strewn floorboards and listened.

Breathing.

There were people here, hidden beneath the floor. He looked at Erro and widened his eyes, before they steadily began searching for the trapdoor. Rolling back the fur and dyed wool carpets the outline became clear. Caligo wedged his spear into a gap but hesitated before he lifted it. He looked to Erro, wondering about the ethics of this situation. His earlier thoughts, there must be some other way, rushed in to haunt him.

“Do not be afraid to see,” Erro whispered to him and Caligo wavered. Once he saw them would he feel duty bound to alert the others, or would he feel merely guilt. What would Erro’s reaction be if he turned now and left; would he report him? It was too late to back out now, until he knew Erro’s mind more clearly…

What to do?

Something in the corner caught his eye. A rag doll. Its black eyes peered at him, glassy beads, stringy hair, crude smile painted on the patched face. All it was made of were cast offs from clothing and materials, yet it struck him - these were women and children in here, fearing for their lives.

He didn’t look at Erro as he walked the two paces to the wall and lifted the doll in his hand. It was just the sort of thing his own little sisters would play with, far away, back where home was. How were these children any different? They were innocent in all this, all those who died were. They didn’t ask for the priests to come, and yet they were dying because they were different.

It had to stop.

Returning to the spear he hitched open the hatch, hearing the collective panic from below. Without looking he dropped into the darkness below, crouching on landing, before straightening and waited for his eyes to adjust. When they did he saw several young girls, a scattering of women clutching frightened toddlers and babies to them. In front of them all, brandishing a little wooden sword was a small boy, his dark eyes fierce as he threatened the invading man. Caligo would have smiled, except the situation was too tragic. This was the way it was everywhere they had been so far and as yet no mercy had been shown. He looked into the eyes of the boy and saw himself at that age. Lifting his eyes he sought the oldest woman in the room. All he saw was hatred and fear. Was that how he wanted everyone to greet him in future? With fear and hatred and scorn?

He hung his head in shame for a moment, before a sob brought him back to reality. One of the little girls had seen the doll he still clasped in his hand. Kneeling down he placed his spear on the floor and spread his hands to show he meant no harm. Then he held the doll out in front of him. Suspicious eyes met his own, before the little girl ran towards him and snatched back what was hers. She stopped before running back, and looked at him closely. She babbled something to her mother, in words Caligo couldn’t comprehend, and suddenly he remembered where he was. He widened his eyes at her and placed his finger over his own lips, miming to her to be silent. She copied and flashed him a brilliant smile. Then she touched his cheek, thanking him for bringing her doll down, before she scuttled back into the shadows and her family. Slowly he regained his feet and mimed to them all to stay silent, before he picked up his spear and lifted himself back through the hatch.

“Anything?” Erro asked, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Caligo shook his head, “False alarm,” he muttered, rolling the carpet back across the hatch and placing a chair over that. Erro raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and in that moment Caligo knew that Erro knew. “Will you tell anyone?” He muttered pensively, not wishing to die after only one good deed. In silence Erro turned and led them back out into the glaring sunlight. When they reached Sidereus and moved on further down the street Caligo grabbed Erro’s sleeve again.

Grey-green eyes looked at him, almost as if for the first time. They seemed to plunge beneath the skin and really look at him, deeply and fully. Then a flicker of a smile appeared, but vanished before Caligo could be sure, but then he relaxed. Erro knew, but what was more he understood and even approved. Perhaps change would not be so hard after all.

~*~

The search went across the whole town, but no one was found. Caligo felt himself tensing, fearing that the people he had left alone would be discovered by someone else, and not be so lucky a second time, but he needn’t have worried. By the time all the soldiers were gathered in the town square once more, no inhabitants had been found. A spy had been spotted in the sparse foliage near the top of the valley, but by the time the pursuers had reached the spot, the spy was well gone. The priests counted their gains, in wool, furs, food and precious gems and were contented. The town had bought their freedom for now it seemed. As the day began to wane, the army moved on. That evening they finally crested the far side of the valley and left the sweltering heat and gathering stench behind, if not the guilt and foreboding.

~*~

Erro sat up on watch, his back to a chilly rocky outcrop. Out of the valley the nights were cool. The ground soaked up the unrelenting heat of the day, slowly releasing it come nightfall, but the open plains were swept by a heat sapping wind, which fluttered ever constantly and stole away the warmth. The fire snapped at his feet and he sighed discontentedly. He wasn’t supposed to be watching alone, as his grey eyes swept the silently sleeping bodies. Waiting for his companion to return was always a trial, but he had to admit it was only fair, sometimes Sidereus had to stay while he himself went elsewhere. Didn’t mean the wait wasn’t boring. To take his mind off his current situation he let his gaze search the bodies. Finally he picked out one particular dark shadow, his dark brown, almost black curls were dusted down with sand, his face, even from this distance was noticeably drawn, yet a faint smile tickled at his lips. The sign of a conscious soothed for once, rather than troubled.

“What are you dreaming?” Erro wondered, and yet he already knew.

~*~

The magpie watched, circling above the dream before in a rush of wings it returned to its master. Messenger settled on Shaiel’s shoulder, nibbled at his ear and told him of what she had seen. He smoothed her feathers with one hand and thanked her, before she flapped off to roost with her fellow magpies. Her departure was timed to perfection with Maskaoí’s own return. A slice of darkness dripped into the air in front of Shaiel before she stepped through, her wings dripping blackly from her shoulders. She lifted her raven, Orion, from where he was perched and he flew off into the night. Her eyes met his and they stood a while in silence.

Shaiel was the first to move, spreading his own wings he enfolded her within them, his arms embracing her too. “Welcome home,” he whispered.

“And to you, my stars.” She pulled back and touched his cheek softly, before kissing the same spot. “It is quiet when you are away.”

“And?” He asked, one pale blond eyebrow arched in question.

She knew him well enough by now not to need him to clarify any further what he wanted to know. “He is almost ready,” she told him, her eyes serious. “Almost, but not quite. He hasn’t yet realised who he is, and when he does, I doubt he will understand. You must be there for him, Shaiel, and Demero. Watch him carefully, the time is approaching.”

“Riddles,” Shaiel chuckled, taking her hand in his. “Always you say everything you want, but not in a manner for anyone else to understand. We do not all think like you,” he whispered softly in her ear.

“Thankfully,” she laughed. “You are merely Aekhartain,” she shoved his shoulder playfully. “I am an Entity, no others think like we do. It’s our blessing and curse.” Her smiled faded as she played with a strand of his white hair. “He is unusual,” she muttered. “There is a test which he will face, and not even I can see if he will pass or fail.”

“Then why are we bothering?” Shaiel tried to bring a smile to her face, but failed.

She sighed, “He must be guided, and yet I still think he will fall.”

“It will be as it will be,” he told her softly, taking her hand from his hair and pulling her closer.

She rested her head upon his chest and shut her eyes, allowing herself to be wrapped in his wings and the feel of his presence. “Such is the way of darkness.”

~*~

Erro was trying to coax the fire into staying alive when he returned. A gap appeared in the rock face beside the soldier, and Shaiel stepped through. “Back so soon,” he muttered, snapping a twig viciously in half before sending it to its fiery death.

“Cheer up, Mero,” Shaiel sighed, shifting his shoulders until his wings shrank and were lost from view. A solitary black and white feather, too large for a normal bird, fluttered to the ground.

Erro picked it up and stroked its soft length. “How’s it going?” He could never stay angry for long, it wasn’t in his nature, plus it wasn’t Shaiel’s fault he had been called home.

Sitting down, Shaiel gathered his long white hair into his hands. Ruffling it about on top of his head, it was soon replaced with russet strands, which shortened to the harsh crop of Sidereus. “Ah, as well as can be expected,” he nodded, rubbing his chin until a sparse, red beard appeared. “The dreams are progressing and we’re close. Soon he’ll know and then we will have to be ready.” He brushed a finger across each eyebrow, transforming the pale blond hairs into faded red, before doing the same to his fluttering eyelashes.

“You know I’ll never get used to that,” Erro chuckled as he watched the transformation, fascinated.

Sidereus smiled, “Well you’ll have plenty of time, Demero, trust me.”

~*~

The moon was in its first phase, nothing more than a thumbnail in the sky, a mere glamour of what it should be. Sitting just above the horizon it was infected with an orange glow. Caligo stared at it, spying the pin pointed stars which were vaguely visible outside it.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Sidereus was sharing the watch with him this night.

“Different,” Caligo muttered, nodding his head.

He missed the sharp look Sidereus cast his way, while considering his next words carefully. “Perhaps that’s why it’s beautiful,” he said at last. “Because it is different. I’m taking a walk.” He stood up and was swallowed by shadows before Caligo had a chance to reply.

“Beautiful because it is different,” he mumbled to himself, hearing Sidereus’ footfalls weaving between the soft breathing of the sleepers all round. “Do not be afraid to see…beautiful because it is different, and yet it may look strange, but it is the same moon underneath.” He mused on these things in silence, welcoming the calming darkness. They had run out of fuel for the fire, with no chance of restocking in this barren wasteland. Right now he could be anywhere because it was too dark to see the surroundings. “Darkness is a fine leveller,” he chuckled to himself, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders, to block out the constant wind.

“Hmm, sounds like heresy to me,” Sidereus returned and Caligo could just make out his wink in the gloom. They chuckled briefly, before falling silent again.

“It is though,” Caligo spoke at last. “In the darkness you cannot see your differences, it’s only the light which highlights our faults.”

“I’d be careful who you said that to,” Sidereus warned him.

“Obviously, I’m hardly going to tell this to the priests!” He laughed incredulously.

Sidereus’ starlight eyes glittered at him, “No, you won’t, but there are others who might.”

The warning hit home then and Caligo nodded, understanding. “You’re right,” he muttered. “Others need to be taught how to understand.”

~*~

Like all things precious it started as barely a whisper. A rumour which flittered into the night as soon as it was spoken, no one knew where it came from, no one asked; it just was. And as the rumour spread the whisper grew louder, reached more ears and became more real.

There was another way.

Caligo was amazed at the response, strangers he had never seen before, would hustle through the crowd and whisper messages to him. He wasn’t alone in his discontent, he was just one of thousands. Few were on the side of the priests but fear of reprisals had stopped them doing anything about it, until now. He was more surprised to find that Sidereus and Erro weren’t in the least bit fazed by the general feelings of the soldiers, it was almost as if they had expected it would be so.

“If you knew they would react this way, why didn’t you do anything about it?” He asked them one day as they trudged along a steep gully, the river at the bottom was a thin trickle, yet it had been the most incredible sight Caligo had ever seen. Precious, life giving water. There was hope yet.

“They need a leader,” Erro had shrugged, having received the nod from Sidereus first. “We were just waiting until one made himself known.”

“Who are you?” He asked them both, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“We are, that is all.” The hidden meaning of Sidereus’ words were lost on Caligo and they marched on in silence.

~*~

Gradually as the day wore on Erro and Sidereus dropped back from him, putting their heads close together as they whispered. “Is he ready?” Erro asked, hardly audible over the tromping of feet.

“Let us hope so,” Sidereus sighed, his worries showing on his face for the first and perhaps only time.

Erro shot him a half-smile of shared understanding, “Is there so much at stake?”

“Mask seems to think so,” Sidereus ruffled his hair and they said no more on the subject.

~*~

“I am ready,” he woke, his eyes seeing only stars and darkness above him. “Let it begin.”

~*~

Shaiel watched through the seeing glass, feeling her come to stand beside him and he knew of her discomfort. Looking up he caught and held Demero’s eyes, but he shrugged; there was nothing he could do. Shaking his head, Shaiel wrapped one wing around her, but she didn’t acknowledge or turn to him. “It is not too late,” he whispered. “We can stop it, if you think it is a mistake?”

“There are things in this universe that are greater than I,” she told them both in a low voice. “The wheels that drive us are one, and the making of him is another. Mistake or no, there is nothing we can do. Let us hope the tracks we have laid out for him will be enough to guide him.”

“They will contain him,” Demero gently tried to reassure her.

Looking up into his peaceful grey-green eyes she smiled. One hand touched the black and white feathers that covered her shoulder. Leaning against Shaiel she shut her eyes and sighed deeply. “For now.”

~*~

“I know what I must do,” Caligo said to Sidereus when they began moving again the next day. “I know who I am and how to end this.”

“And how?” The eyes shined at him, but what message they held Caligo could not interpret.

“The light is the curse of this place, of this crusade, of this world.” A pale light was shining in his dark green eyes as he told Sidereus of his plans.

Sidereus felt a slight warning tighten the muscles in his neck, “What will you do?”

“Destroy the light,” Caligo whispered with a smile. “And cover all the world in darkness.”

~*~

Guards were set on the priests’ quarters, ready to send a warning signal at the slightest hint of movement. The rest of the soldiers gathered in a far corner of the camp. An air of tense, nervous excitement rippled through the gathering. Most were still unfamiliar as to what was going on here, others were curious to see how far this adventure would take them. Then he stood, silence fell and all eyes were on the one at the front. His dark eyes swept over the gathered. It should be enough.

Change would come.

“Brothers,” he called across to them all. “We are gathered here for one purpose and one only. To prevent the slaughter in the name of the light. Light traps us in cages, reveals every tiny detail about us, it suppresses us and forces us to do its will. Was this what we thought we were becoming soldiers for?” A gathered murmur went through the crowd, mixed with not a small amount of unease; was this heresy?

“Brothers,” he spoke again and they fell silent, compelled to listen further. “It is time to take control of your own destiny. To do what you believe is right. To gather in the shadows…and unleash the darkness.”

~*~

“The light came down to them and opened their world, no longer did they fear and cower in the shadows, for all the world was laid bare before them. They could see. Only at night did they cower with fear and hide from the monsters it would conceal.” The priests were oblivious to the whispers which were spreading through out their troops.

“A balance, that’s what he calls for.”

“Protection from the light.”

“As we have day, so we have night. The darkness surely has a place alongside the light?”

“You cannot say all dark is evil, surely it’s a necessary part of life?”

And so on, Caligo’s words had the desired effect and even those who weren’t interested to begin with began to waver. Was it possible that the priests were lying to them? And had been all along? Would all this slaughter truly save their immortal soul?

The seeds of doubt were sown, now all it would take was time and the ultimate test. Whispers were all very well, but what of action?

~*~

“You chose well.”

“I know,” she muttered, tugging at a raven feather as she wrapped her wings close for comfort. “Sometimes I wonder if perhaps he was not just a little too perfect.”

~*~

Several weeks passed them by and still they found no more villages, towns or sign of life at all. Occasionally they would cross well trodden roads, but what clues they held were not going to be shared. Then one intolerably hot day something rose through the heat haze. The soldiers were weak and weary, they had been toiling under the harsh heat of the midday sun and were sweating dangerously close to death. Even the priests were seen to be suffering. No longer did they ride up and down the columns, nor did they shout out their sermons. The only sounds to be heard were the constant trampling of feet, pounding relentlessly along under the unmerciful sun.

An oasis. Glorious green foliage shimmered in the desert heat and many believed themselves to be hallucinating, but more and more saw it too and soon they knew it was no mere illusion, but real. Without the energy to speed up, they maintained their slow toil and drew closer and closer to their goal.

As they crawled nearer they began to realise that the oasis wasn’t all it appeared to be. Oh the water was real enough, but it was more than that. Tents, livestock, people. A huge gathering was wrapped around the waterhole, and they were no mere peasants.

An army.

~*~

They camped for the night to regroup and consider their options. While the priests and their commanders gathered in their tents, discussing the lives of their men as mere numbers, the soldiers themselves were deciding their own fight.

“What do we do, Caligo?” One voice rose above the babble to ask the question they were all asking.

“Simple,” Caligo stood at the front and spoke, silencing them all with a word. “We don’t fight.”

“But they’ll slaughter us!” One incredulous voice issued above the others.

“Perhaps,” Caligo shrugged. “Perhaps not, we won’t know until we meet them.”

“But we could all die!”

“We’ll die in the fighting anyway,” Caligo growled angrily. “How many more innocents have to die in the false name of the light? If there are gods up there watching over us, then they are surely playing games. What do they care for us? Nothing, if they let this happen to us! Why should we worship them when we are but playthings in their great minds?” His furious outburst was met with silence. The only sound was the howling wind as it danced with the grains of sand around them.

“Then what do we do?” Erro broke the silence with his calmly spoken question.

Caligo turned to him and took a deep, controlling breath. “Nothing.”

“And if they attack first?” Sidereus brought the thought from another direction.

“Nothing,” Caligo repeated stubbornly.

“Then we will die and prove nothing,” Sidereus hissed at him. “I thought you were a leader, not a mule.” He turned away from him in disgust and walked off into the night.

“Do not be afraid to see,” Erro told him tellingly before following his companion into the darkness.

~*~

Caligo had an uneasy night, filled with dreams of slaughter and for once it was not his sword that was bloodied. He watched as everyone he knew was murdered around him, a fierce light in their assassins’ eyes as more and more bodies piled up. Only Caligo wasn’t touched, doomed to watch it all take place and he sat in the middle of the carnage, spear across his lap, sword sheathed by his side.

An uneasy sweat woke him, shivering in the still darkness. To do nothing was not the way, so what was he to do? He thought on it long and hard before calling the nearest men to him. Urgent whispers were passed on and soon everyone knew what to do.

~*~

That night, as the priests and commanders plotted and planned, assassins waited outside their tent. Whenever any exited, for one reason or another, he never returned. So great was the pressure on these men that the absences went largely unnoticed. There was little they could do and they forgave their absent companions for trying to snatch a few hours rest. The messengers had already been dispatched to the encampment in the south. Just a few moths earlier a city had been taken, no more than a handful miles from where the army was now. All they could do was pray that support would reach them in time. But time was not on their side. As dawn began to filter into the sky, all but three of the ten commanders were lying in the sand outside, while almost half of the fifty preachers would say no more prayers.

“And so the day has dawned,” the remaining priests had lined up the soldiers, ready to march on the army at the oasis. “As all days will come because in the eternal wars the light will always return.”

“It is no battle,” Sidereus muttered at Caligo’s side. “Just the natural order of things.”

“And so we shall prove this today. The good will prevail over the evil and we will rid this land of their darkness. Go forth! Go!”

It was around this time that the bodies were discovered. Too late, the head preacher was felled by an arrow in the throat. Panic was instantaneous as the remaining leaders of the army called to their bodyguards and personal troops. It would never be enough.

Many of the troops gladly ran back to protect their fellow soldiers, allowing themselves the satisfaction of running a priest through on his sword, no longer caring for the consequences this may spell for them. This had to stop. Even as Caligo brought his spear to rest in the chest of the last of their oppressors, the messenger sped his way south, to where another army was waiting to join up with them. All this passed unnoticed as the troops celebrated their freedom.

Caligo made a big show of retreating from the desert army, and they were watched all the way by dark, confused eyes. Caligo himself remained at the back, watching out for any moments when their tactics might fail and they would have to turn and fight. But as the day drew on, they headed back down into a shadowed gully and were finally heading home.

What now?

~*~

“He feels guilt,” Shaiel watched the dream through the seeing glass, his head cocked to one side, the perfect mimic of the two magpies on his shoulders, also watching with curiosity in their beaded eyes.

“We all feel guilt,” Maskaoí pointed out to him.

Shaiel frowned, “I know, I just didn’t expect it from him, that’s all.”

“Shall we see which way the scales fall?” Demero watched, an unreadable expression marking his face. Shaiel found himself wondering what Demero knew that he didn’t.

“Not yet,” Maskaoí said slowly. “He is not done yet, it would be unfair to judge him so soon.” With that she waved her hand through the water and Caligo woke.

~*~

The return march was just as wearisome. Arguments broke out amongst the men, food was stolen and anarchy threatened to break free everyday. “There is a lot to be said for fear,” Caligo complained to Sidereus and Erro one morning. Yet again he had faced a night of tormented dreams and breaking up fights. He was more tired now than he had ever believed possible. With nothing to fight for, and no real reason to return home, he was facing tough decisions. “Oh, let them rot,” he growled, seeing another scuffle amongst the soldiers. Standing up he pulled himself on to the nearest horse and cantered into the newly broken dawn. All stopped to see him pass, but he acknowledged no one, his jaw set in a determined line.

Erro ran over to mount a horse and follow after him, but Sidereus stopped him. “Wait,” he counselled. “He’ll return soon enough.”

“How can you be so sure?” Erro asked, though he knew better than to ask such stupid questions by now. Sidereus, Shaiel, or whatever name he went by, knew everything, or so it seemed.

“Because the last dice is being thrown, the game is about to reveal itself. He’ll be back.”

~*~

Caligo let his horse canter steadily along, feeling the sand shifting beneath its hooves, grateful that this was an Arabian horse, well used to the harsh desert conditions and sure of its feet. He didn’t get far before he noticed the cloud up ahead. Reining his horse in, it reared in protest, dancing across the sand, while Caligo’s green eyes widened in horror. “It cannot be,” he whispered, before turning his horse and urging it back to camp as fast as its swift hooves could carry it.

~*~

“We’re in trouble,” he panted as he galloped his horse right up to where Sidereus appeared to be waiting for him. A hand came out, holding the horse still while Caligo dismounted, then Sidereus handed the blowing equine over to a passing soldier, bidding him to walk it around until the poor animal cooled. “There…there’s an…army,” Caligo puffed, out of breath, while Sidereus guided him towards a meagre breakfast.

“Eat,” the redhead ordered, sitting down to his own breakfast. “There will be much to do after this.”

“You…you’re not surprised?” Caligo wondered, amazed at Sidereus’ coolness.

The starlit eyes smiled wryly at him, as Sidereus shook his head. “Caligo, have you learned nothing about me? I am never surprised.”

~*~

“If we die now, we die with honour. We have taken our destinies in our own hands, we chose this path and let it guide us where it would.” Caligo turned and mounted his horse, the same grey Arabian he had ridden that morning. “We go to glory, we go to honour, we go by our own choosing and freedom!” The troops cheered him, their appointed general, and he rode through the ranks, ready to take his place up front along with Sidereus and Erro, who at some point had become his captains. It seemed fitting.

“Ready?” Erro asked him as they sat on their horses, watching the army approach.

“Hope so,” Caligo muttered, feeling nervous and worried. He was no longer just a mere soldier, but was now in charge of the three thousand men gathered behind him. Could he send them to their deaths? “Let’s just pray we get no more surprises.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Sidereus spoke, rubbing his nose in thought. “I feel there will be one or two.” He then looked knowingly across at Erro and both looked at Caligo, as if they knew something he didn’t.

“What?” He demanded, feeling uneasy under their eyes.

Sidereus smiled, “Nothing.”

~*~

The heat of a true battle was a chaos unlike any Caligo had ever seen before. All around him sounded the clash of spear and sword, accompanied by the cries of men. Was he cut out for war? He was beginning to think not. Another thrust of his spear and another man dead, his face a contortion of agony and eternal bliss. “Damn religion fanatics,” he growled, pulling his spear free, but not quick enough to block the blow which saw him knocked from his horse. The grey screamed as it was pulled down too, a spear piercing its elegant neck, now stained with sweat and blood. Poor beast, Caligo thought in a red haze. It didn’t ask to be here. His head was spinning from where it had struck the ground, catching the edge of a fallen soldier’s helmet. He couldn’t move, could only watch as the sword came down and plunged towards his heart. The focus was gone before he felt contact, the darkness rushed in and carried him far, far away.

~*~

“NO!” Erro dived across, seeing Caligo and his horse being brought down. He had abandoned his own mount hours ago, not wishing to take the noble animal in to battle, not wishing to seal its fate unfairly. Now as he cut a path through the fighting he could see that Caligo wasn’t moving, watched in horror as the enemy soldier began to bring down his blade.

At the last second the sword was stopped. Panting from his exertions Erro lifted his own blade, which had blocked successfully and thrust the other man backwards. The soldier grunted, his eyes going wide as he stared down to see a spear tip emerging from his own chest. A gurgle from his throat and the spear was removed, allowing him to fall limply to the ground. Sidereus appeared on the other side, wiping the tip of his spear. “Good work,” he smiled across at Erro and clapped him on the shoulder. “Get your breath back, it’s almost time.”

~*~

Time seemed to halt all around him. Nothing and nobody moved, it was as though he had stepped outside the bonds of time. His head ached and his eyes swam, but he knew what he must do. Struggling to his feet he swayed. “Easy now,” the voice swam through his garbled consciousness and he looked up. Stars. Sidereus smiled at him, helping him to stand. “You can do this.”

“It is time,” Erro told him, steadying his other side, calm, sea swelling eyes lending Caligo strength.

He nodded at both of them and they let go, taking steps back to give him room to breath. A dot in the distance drew his attention and he lifted his eyes over the scene of the frozen battle around him. It was heading towards him, fast, as it reached the air above his head it screamed out in recognition, folding its wings. It plummeted down towards him, breaking at the perfect moment, before landing on his outstretched arm, talons digging into his leather wrist guard. He lifted an unsteady finger and stroked the pitch black feathers of its chest. “Noctis,” he whispered, and the black hawk inclined its head towards him. “It is time.”

As if on cue the battle raged back into being around him and he felt the skin on his back tighten. Sidereus and Erro stepped back yet further, somehow untouched by the fighting, as Caligo lifted his face to the sky and screamed. His voice carried all across the field of battle, stopping all in their tracks, turning to find what the source of the noise was.

Shadows swept in, under the midday sun and the light was blocked out. More darkness wrapped itself around Caligo and he fell under the weight of it. As his scream died away and thoughts of returning to fighting were filtering through the soldiers brains, another cry came and this time they all looked and saw. What their eyes took in that moment they would never forget.

The dark angel had come.

Caligo shook off the shadows and leapt into the air, Noctis flying alongside. Just when he should have begun to fall, darkness itself spread from his shoulders, forming into wings which carried him higher. He knew what he had to do.

Sweeping over the battlefield he commanded the fighting to stop. He could not carry the deaths of three thousand men on his conscious, for he knew his men would lose. The supporting army which they were currently battling had numbers of almost ten thousand, it was a hopeless and desperate battle and it had to stop.

Finding the leaders he demanded an end to the fighting and that a choice be given to each of the men out there fighting, whether they be his men or theirs. Let them choose if they wanted to take place in this war of immorality, or allow them to return home. In return he handed himself over to them. Death was never far away.

~*~

As his feet touched the ground, his demands agreed to, he felt his wings fold behind him, before they vanished altogether. No longer the dark angel of terror and legend, just a normal, battle wearied man. He collapsed as they went to tie him up.

~*~

“Caligo, former soldier of the Crusading armies, you are hereby charged with High Treason and Heresy…” the rest of the charges and crimes flew over his head, he cared not. He knelt on the wooden platform, his dark head down cast, his wrists bound tightly behind his back. His skin was raw and tight from where they had whipped him continuously trying to torture his secrets out of him. He had said nothing, for in truth there was no point, they would never believe him anyway. At least his men had been freed, that was all that mattered to him now.

As they began to wind up the charges and speeches Caligo at last raised his deep, dark, dangerous green eyes and let them rest on the gathered crowd. They were all here to watch his death. Did he want to remain in a world where people revelled in the deaths of others? Was everything he had done for nothing? Would people still kill needlessly, just for the sake of their own profit?

Then his eyes fell on two familiar face; Sidereus and Erro, even now they were still by his side, ready to support him. All noise seemed to drown out as his own green eyes connected with the light of stars. Sidereus’ voice sounded in his head; “It was not a fight which had to be won, just so long as it was fought. You were the one to turn the tide, Caligo, history will remember you.“ He smiled at them, no longer surprised at what Sidereus seemed able to do and lowered his head once more. There was still hope, even now.

They raised him to his feet, cut the bonds on his hands and tightened the rope around his neck. As they placed him above the trapdoor, he lifted his eyes to the sky one last time, a final look at the light which sealed his fate. Circling high above was a black bird. Vulture, he thought well aware that his dead body would be hung from the battlements for the birds to devour, until his bones had been picked clean. Even as this thought registered across his mind, the bird folded its wings and dived down. Wings out it halted just in time, before landing on the outstretched arm of Erro.

“Noctis?” Caligo asked in a choked voice, just as the trapdoor twanged free.

He fell, tensing against the moment when the rope would bite and he would die, but it never came.

“Welcome home, Caligo,” a soft voice broke through his tense mind and blinking slowly he opened his eyes. She smiled at him, the raven on her shoulder, sun questing eyes warm once more. Beside her were two men who were familiar and yet strangers all at the same time, and all of them had wings. “You’re safe now, Nawaquí , the darkness has brought you home.”

And as Noctis took off from one of the men’s wrists, to settle on his own, he knew it to be true. “So,” he muttered, one hand feeling his unmarked neck, spying his own, rich, black feathers pouring from his back. “This is death.” And he smiled.