Story #307 - Darkness Prevails

Darkness Prevails

“Darkness prevails.” That was Harry Tulman, a tiny shred of a man that had no business being near anywhere anyone with power. His family had money, though – which counted for more than it should.

“Darkness prevails,” echoed Sare Fullbright. She was more in line with what the Masters considered to be a perfect recruit; tall, sensible and with a significant drive to learn.

“Darkness prevails,” Ril Tessla said in a small voice. He hated the phrasing, and had never enjoyed their Arts of the Underside class. It had always been difficult to reconcile the idea of fighting for the Light by getting to know the darkness he opposed – it made sense, when the instructors explained it, but felt wrong when they were sitting in a circle and chanting out the same words that had brought the Provinces to ruin.

“Better,” Master Grada said in a hollow voice. “But you still lack passion. The darkness is nothing without passion – I’ve said as much every day you’ve been here with me.”

Ril squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. Passion was the last thing he wanted to give the darkness, even in jest. Stories told by the elders of his birth-village said that venerating the dark gave it strength, no matter the purpose. The Masters had been critical of the idea since he arrived at the Annex, and told him such notions were nonsense. On the surface, he agreed with everything they had said – there could be no way the fallen gods of darkness could rise again, but when he sat enrobed and enshadowed chanting words of their glory it was easy to imagine them rising from the pool in which the forces of Light had bound them eons ago.

“Ril.” Grada’s voice was hard. “You especially are weak in the chants. Explain.”

“Master, I…” he hesitated. Truth might not bring the best result, but lying would make things even worse – Grada had a way of figuring things out. “I don’t like this.”

“Why?” The Master’s gaze bore into him. “Why do you have such trouble with what I ask you to do?”

“It’s wrong,” Ril said flatly. “We shouldn’t be doing it.” He heard Harry and Sare draw in quick breaths and saw both look down at the floor. They knew he was going to catch hell, and didn’t want to be hit by accident when it flew.

“Wrong?” Grada’s voice was deceptively quiet. “You presume to know what is right and wrong at such a young age? Perhaps you should be the Master and I the student?”

“No, Master,” finding his voice was a struggle. Truth suddenly seemed less than sensible. “I do not mean to question your wisdom, but my feelings speak too loudly. The Light teaches us to venerate it alone – that praising darkness leads only to more of the same. We should not be doing this!” The last was delivered more loudly than he intended, and Ril saw both of his classmates recoil. Speaking the truth was one thing – yelling it was something else entirely.


“Pupil,” the thick-armed Master said as he rose, “you are treading on dangerous ground. Do you really wish to continue along this path?” He loomed over Ril, massive frame tense and teeth clenched. Physical violence was unlikely, but fear didn’t listen to odds. “Do you really wish to continue to question?”

“I must!” Ril stood as well, moving and speaking before he had a chance to think. “This is wrong!”

“Students,” Grada’s voice was heavy with potential threats. “You bear witness to this, you are a part of it.”

Dirty looks from both Sare and Harry told Ril he was going to hear about his actions later, as would the rest of their class – providing he was not removed from the Annex entirely. Grada’s face broke into a grin, and Ril shivered.

“Well done, student,” the Master said, stepping forward to place a large hand on Ril’s shoulder. “Few recognize the problem with the class, and fewer still will speak of it.”

“What?” Harry’s voice was incredulous, and though Sare held her tongue it was clear she was also on the verge of an outburst.

Grada spun to face the fat young man. “The purpose of this exercise is not to speak of the darkness – the rituals we perform here are not a tenth as vile as those originally conducted by priests of the abandoned light. Instead, we use this as a gauge, a way to know how far our students have come and if they are ready for the next stage of their training. Ril is – but I worry about the other two of you.”

The faces of his classmates told him that their anger at his punishment was a pale thing compared to their envy at his praise and he sighed. Being singled out was not what he wanted.

“Harry, Sare,” Grada said sharply. “Leave us now, and think on why you were not willing to speak. Soon you will both be in your final year and we expect a greater strength of will from our top-level pupils.”

The two filed out, shooting dark looks at Ril as they went.

“They are displeased, Ril – but I am sure you know that,” the Master spoke softly. “I have praised you and insulted them, and they will view it as your failing. Does that bother you?”

“Yes,” he said honestly, “but not because I care what they think. I just don’t need the extra attention.”


“You are wise to say so, pupil,” Garda said, smiling. “Few are so intelligent at such a young age.”

“Master, I –“

“Silence.” The tone was kind, but firm. “I did not ask for a response. I have a question, young Ril – what made you speak?”

“Fear.” There it was, plain and simple. Grada would not be pleased, but it was the truth. Silence filled the room as Ril endured the Master’s stare.

“Good,” Grada said finally. “Only the wise are fearful, and only fear can fight the darkness. Darkness prevails,” he went on, “and we fight it still. Your fear will let you fight it as well. Come with me.”

The Master turned and strode away; Ril had no choice but to follow. This was not what he wanted.


- D