DARKNESS
Udrys’ dreams were plagued by images of people in stars and worms in the void, but he rested well, and awoke with a fresh perspective. 1st April. Maybe he was lucky enough for this to all be a practical joke played by Metternich, after almost killing him and probably bringing him to some creepy mind-bending facility run by the infamous Obrad Baran. Somehow, that was more ridiculous than this. Dionisie was waiting outside his door in a dark green suit very similar to their last outfit. A person of habit, then. He filed that away in his mind, although he wasn’t quite sure how he might use it yet.
As if to confirm this fact, their plain black ring - obsidian maybe - remained where it was. He himself had changed into a sweatshirt adorned with the letters “LC,” flourished with Natin columns and laurels, and a different pair of jeans, this time a darker blue. Thinking back, Udrys remembered that Dr Danesti had worn a similar ring. No, not similar. The exact same. But it was on both of their index fingers, so it couldn’t be a wedding ring, unless this country had different ring placement traditions to his own. It would be an odd divergence from his world, but he wouldn’t put it past the whims of the multiverse.
“Morning,” Dionisie called. “Dr Danesti’s waiting for us. Props to you for not trying to run away.”
“Did you expect that to happen?”
“Eh, fifty-fifty.”
“What do you call the third finger on your hand?” He asked, deciding not to provide any context.
Dionisie paused. “Including the thumb?” They didn’t seem too thrown.
“No.”
“Ring finger.”
“Got it.”
Dionisie shot him a puzzled expression, but didn’t question it. Ivaska had slept in a free dorm, and the pair had to walk a bit to reach the Administrator’s office. Udrys noticed that Dionisie would say hello to all the staff there, who would all know them by name, and even a couple students. Udrys realised too late that a sweatshirt was probably not the best idea, as it seemed this country was not nearly as cold as the Directorate. The walk was brisk, though, and the sun was hidden behind clouds often enough, so he didn’t complain.
The door to Dr Danesti’s office was open, and there was an adult woman sitting in front of his desk. She wore a green turtleneck and tan pants, fairly informal compared to the man’s dark blue suit and grey bowtie. The walls of the room seemed extremely unchanged, contrasting the desk, which was cluttered in a unique and different way. As Dionisie and Udrys entered, the latter took a good look at Danesti’s hand, to see that he did indeed wear a black ring, seemingly of the same material as Dionisie’s.
“Dionisie, Udrys, thank you for coming. Udrys, this is Mrs Parasca, a patron of the Danesti Foundation. We were just discussing her pending appointment to the Committee on Cultural Conservation. I wrote her a letter of recommendation for the job, you see.” His voice was strained.
“Congratulations, Mrs Parasca,” Dionisie said coldly. “I do hope we can count on your support in Teronia.”
“As I was telling Dr Danesti, the Committee is independent of bias, but I’ll be glad to consider it on its merits as a Committeemember. Now, I best be leaving. I have a job to do.”
“Right,” Dionisie said, although they appeared unconvinced.
“Thank you for coming. Please consider the details of my case,” Dr Danesti said, and then the woman was gone.
“What the hell was that all about?” Udrys asked.
“Politics,” Dr Danesti sighed.
“We can remove her, you know. Replace her with someone who won’t be such a pain.”
“Too much hassle. We can only hope that she sees the importance of maintaining Teronia Catacombs’ isolation. We will only result to drastic measures if necessary. But let’s not get bogged down in the particulars. Udrys, how are you finding your stay?”
“I’ve thought about the choice you gave me,” he replied, ignoring the actual question. “I’d like to talk about returning to my own world.”
Dr Danesti nodded. “I believe I owe Dionisie ten crowns.”
“Ten what?”
“Our currency here,” Dionisie said, helpfully and smugly.
“Ah. So this is a game to you?” he demanded.
Dr Danesti shook his head emphatically. “Not at all. We’re very concerned for your safety, and this is a matter of great urgency. It’s just difficult to resist the puzzle of figuring you out. After all, you’re from a very different world from us.”
Udrys made a “Hmph” noise.
“I digress again. I did a lot of research on Arkyr, and it is not a weak being. If it has taken an interest in you, we need to determine whether it wants you alive or dead. Did your interactions with it show any indication of this?”
“Yes. It gave me a choice, when I was in-between.” Ivaska’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “I saw a fork in the road. One path was shrouded in darkness. The other was haunted by a monster I cannot describe. I was afraid. It wasn’t an easy choice. But I knew that the darkness would be safer than the path of the monster. I knew, somehow, that my death would be certain. So I chose the unknown. And then I woke up.”
“Interesting. I was looking into the potential reasons for your displacement. You see, striding between universes doesn’t just happen. You typically need to walk through a gap in reality, and that is a process that kills many. There have been very few documented striders, the most notable of which is the Painter. Most of them, however, are beings like Arkyr. Extra-dimensional things that play with worlds like toys. These beings can manage to bring someone through without a Gap. There are four that we know of that can do so. One of them is Erebus.”
The name alone sent a chill along Ivaska’s spine. Suddenly, he was a child again, awake in the pitch black and some unknown hour of the night, hiding in the comfort from under his heavy blankets, straining his ears to listen to the creak of the floorboards or the exhalation of breath, certain there was a monster under his bed, and in his closet, and standing beside him, that would eat him if he moved a muscle, if he made a sound, or if he looked out from under the safety of the blankets. His hot breath was suffocating, but outside of the blankets, a monster lurked. Images of dancing shadows filled his head, and he felt suddenly dizzy and very cold, despite his clothing.
In a few moments, it had passed, and he became aware of where he was once again. Dionisie and Dr Danesti’s faces were soft, their eyebrows raised in concern. He shivered once, and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he merely said.
“No, you’re not,” Dionisie replied firmly. “Tell us what happened.”
He debated lying, or refusing, but he was in a strange land with no idea what to do, so he did as they asked.
“Did a similar sequence of images or memories appear when we mentioned Arkyr?” Dr Danesti inquired.
“No, not that I can remember.”
“Hm. I’m going to name other such beings. I need you to let me know if you have a reaction to any of them.”
Udrys nodded solemnly.
“The Jeweled Liar.”
Udrys shook his head.
“Karo Vadas.”
Nothing.
“Veluri.”
No reaction.
Dr Danesti paused. “The Watcher.”
“No. It sounds . . . familiar, but no.”
“It’s native to your world,” he explained absent-mindedly. He was clearly deep in thought. “Okay. Here’s my theory. The path you choose, the one shrouded in darkness, was the path of the literal Darkness, a supernatural sphere of obscurity and hidden terror. Its master, Erebus—” Udrys had no reaction this time, much to his relief “—seems to have a direct hand in your displacement. We think he directly correlates to your vision of a worm in the void. Arkyr guided you, because Erebus by nature does not illuminate, whereas Arkyr does, but the entire process bound you to Erebus. Drawing on his energy is likely the only way you can return to the Directorate.”
“So how do I do that?”
“Erm–”
“You don’t actually know?!” he asked incredulously.
“Not quite. But I know some people who might. We’re going to go on a little field trip. There’s a couple things we’ll have to figure out, but I think our first stop should be—”
“Arthur Frost is on campus,” Dionisie interrupted, looking directly at their cell phone with a strange expression that Udrys decidedly filed under ‘grim.’
Valerian sighed. “Udrys, I’m afraid this matter will have to wait. Dionisie, please direct Mr Frost to my office before he starts poking his head into classrooms and debating philosophy professors again.” Danesti looked to be preparing for a headache.
“Should I leave?” Udrys asked politely.
“No, you can stay here if you wish. I’ve found that everyone can always find something interesting in what Arthur has to say, buried deep beneath his obnoxious veneer.”
Ivaska offered a small smile. “Alright, I’ll stay.”
It was only a little while before Dionisie and a man Udrys had never seen before stepped through the doors. Arthur Frost was wearing a deep purple waistcoat and matching slacks. The sleeves to his plain white dress shirt were rolled up, his dark grey tie was a little loose, and he wore an unadorned black ring on his right index finger. That made three so far. He debated asking about it later and was interrupted by the man of the hour.
“Is this your new pet project, Valerian?” Arthur’s voice was a little shrill for a bearded adult in formal wear. “I like him, he’s indignant already. You might want to watch out for him, he’s a wanted man.”
Dr Danesti blinked slowly. Before he could craft a calm, level response, Dionisie spoke instead. “What do you mean? Don’t joke around now, Arthur.”
“Why, Mx Caragiale, did you not ask why your dear Mr Ivaska was sporting a gunshot wound when he arrived here? He’s not your average schmuck, that’s for sure. I love that word. Schmuck. It’s so fun to say.”
“Who shot him, Frost?” Dionisie asked firmly. Udrys had a feeling Dionisie’s patience didn’t actually run that thin, but that they were just skipping ahead on purpose.
“Johann Franz von Metternich. Charming fellow, if you’re on his good side. Not so much when you’re not, hence the gunshot wound and the, ahem, big fall.”
Ivaska began to assess his options here. If he was fast enough, he could push Dionisie to the ground and take their gun, but he wasn’t sure how soon security would react. Could he talk his way out of this? He wasn’t sure, he felt like—
“Frankly, it’s none of our concern who shot Mr Ivaska or why. I’d like to know how you know, though.” Danesti’s voice cut through the suspicion and panic, and Udrys visibly relaxed.
“I’d like to know that too,” he added.
Arthur nodded. “No, that’s a fair request. You see, that one Detective, what was his name? Peeta? Whatever, anyway, your stunt didn’t go unnoticed. One of his fellow officers made a report to one of my enforcers, who told his handler, who was concerned that some other organised crime group was trying to push in on Saragrad, and so met with the city’s underboss. I’m known for my curiosity and interest in odd developments, so a guy claiming to be from a fake country was sure to pique my interest. Especially with the Black Hand’s involvement. I was briefed on this exciting lunatic and he just happened to match the description of the guy who apparently shot the beloved Lieutenant General Andrejauskas. It only took a couple phone calls to my favourite morgue guy to find out the gun that killed him was Metternich’s, not Ivaska’s, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to piece the scene together from there. Never got that expression. Rocket science. It’s such a niche field to reference so often. Insult a respectable field, like physics. I fucking hate physics. If I wanted to do maths I would have majored in finance, not philosophy.”
Dionisie rolled their eyes, but Danesti pressed further. “So let me get this straight, Udrys was framed for killing some general, and his country’s President tried to kill him to prevent the truth from getting out?” Danesti seemed to be getting the headache he predicted.
“Well yeah. Except, Chief Minister, not President. And I mean framing someone for a murder they were trying to commit isn’t that evil, to be perfectly honest.”
“That makes no sense, why frame him then?”
“It was a power play. The way I see it, Metternich wanted to show this upstart that nothing happened without him wanting it to. Andrejauskas dies? By Metternich’s own hand. It also shows that he’s not rattled by their little movement. Right, Udrys? Am I forgetting anything?”
Udrys decided that he didn’t like this Arthur Frost. “No,” he said shortly.
“But why—”
“I’m not here to answer your questions about a conflict that is literally a world away.”
Danesti nodded. “Yes, quite right. I apologise. I did say it was unimportant. What brings you here unannounced?”
“As you may have heard in the news, Governor Byrne—”
“Out of the question,” Dionisie interjected.
Frost smiled. “I didn’t even finish.”
“Just because you’re mad the Kritarchy’s golden boy is spoiling your fun in his city doesn’t mean we have the right to meddle in these affairs.”
“Actually, I was happy to see August’s commendation. The mafia’s decreased presence in Castenor isn’t the point here, just a preface. You see, the good Governor is now on Eddy Stoker’s nice list, which means there may be some goodies in store for Ademarmas. I want the Danesti Foundation to throw their support behind Byrne, and maybe organise a charity event or two. Boost his reputation a bit. He’ll need it in the coming days.”
“I doubt there’ll be an opening for a new Justice soon,” Dr Danesti replied, guessing at the other man’s intentions.
Frost laughed. “You’d be surprised.”
“Arthur,” he warned.
“I won’t lay a finger on anyone,” he said with the feigned innocence of a child but an underlying honesty, if not sincerity.
“Fine, I’ll do as you ask. But, I’ll need your advice on something.”
“Udrys here? Let me guess. Ole Chernobog’s got his claws on the man.”
“If you want to call it that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t suggest searching in dark caves. Something rotten sleeps under this country and Udrys cannot survive it. However, in the nights of Westhafen, the Nachtkrapp calls, and heralds disease and death. It is a thing of the Darkness. Grab a brat or try a schnitzel while you’re down there. In honor of Mr Metternich.”
“You’re sure about this, Arthur?”
The other man nodded. “I can’t join you, however. I just have so many crimes to commit,” he said dryly. Turning to Udrys, he added, “Good luck getting the Abyss to stare back, or however the saying goes.” He winked at Udrys, saluted Dr Danesti, and left them in his wake.
“I don’t like him,” Udrys shared helpfully.
Dionisie laughed, and Valerian grew a sly smile. “That tends to be most people’s first impressions of you. But he gave us a lead. That’s good. Now we don’t have to go around searching for the supernatural.”
“The Nachtkrapp.”
“Night Raven. An Ethalrian legend.”
“It sounds like an Araseotic word.”
“It might as well be,” Valerian said. “You’ll find that languages and cultures between our two worlds tend to be quite similar, simply given different names. The Nachtkrapp is a dangerous beast, though. We must be careful. Are you two ready?”
Dionisie smiled. “Sounds fun.”
Udrys shrugged. “I guess I have no choice.”
Valerian nodded. “Very well. Pack your bags. Looks like we’re flying south for the winter.”