The DarkWatch Patrol

She was sat in a kind of hypnotism – a stupor induced by the ceaseless and peaceful to-and-fro of the waves. The tide had been steadily approaching her rocky perch for almost an hour but something as trivial as wet feet wouldn’t drag her from her reverie. Her joints were on the side of stiff that was actually rather comfortable, so long as you didn’t move, but Alatarie did not mind this in the least. She was waiting, as she did every evening, and she would not move until he arrived.

He was late again. He was never on time if he could help it. Not when it came to meeting Alatarie, anyway. She was always exasperated and frustrated by him, no matter what he tried to do to prove himself. He mentally cursed first impressions and their lasting consequences. But when she was waiting for him, when he was late, she drifted. She always looked so much more at peace waiting by the ocean, her hair often swept away from her face in the wind. Sometimes she even smiled – if the weather was right and the waves were calm.

As he came over the ridge and spotted her in her usual perch, he was gladdened that today was indeed one of those better days. It was cold for a summer day – proof that autumn really was on its way, now that August was ticking down its last few days – but the setting sun shone with as much gusto as it could manage and the wind was only gently guiding her hair out of her face, which was aimed resolutely but amicably towards the glittering blue.

She’d always managed a happier relationship with the water than she’d ever attempted with him. He often cursed at his younger self, who had been so cocksure when he’d first met her – and likely put her off him for life, which made their partnership so much more difficult. He’d give anything for a do-over as the person he was now. He shook his head and started towards her, onto the soft, densely packed sand of her favourite beach. He’d had his chance. He’d simply been too much of a jackass to see it, then.

Alatarie’s mind had drifted to an altogether new thought-line as she’d lost her gaze to the waves today. She was thinking about him – her Patrol partner. This in itself was not completely out of her normal range, but comparing her initial impression of him with what she knew now? It certainly hadn’t happened before. He’d been such a dickhead back then, but she well knew how much someone – or something – could change in a matter of 4 months, which was how long they’d been partnered for.

She almost jumped as she started to hear him approach. She’d gotten lost in her thoughts today, as he’d gotten much closer to her before she’d moved. In their entire 4-month partnership, this 3-metre distance was the closest he’d ever gotten to making her jump. She was usually highly skilled at being constantly aware of her surroundings – an essential skill in their line of work. Especially at the moment. The Denizens were more active than ever.

The denizens of the Dark, or the Denizens, as the DarkWatch called them, were supernatural creatures of the night and they were the underlings of the shadowy being known only as the Dark. The Dark had been terrorising the island of Albion for as long as anyone could remember – and the Watch had been around for just as long, with Patrols and Warnings for when people should hide away and Warriors to fight the Denizens. The Dark itself hadn’t been sighted so far south on the island in a century, but everyone in the Watch worried that this was likely to change.

Once he’d seen that Alatarie had noticed him – though both had failed to notice that her smile had yet to actually fade – he leaped up and jumped the final 3 metres to land perched beside her on a slightly lower rock. She nodded to him, acknowledging his skill at a successful landing. He was always wobblier than her, but then she’d had the highest scores across the board in their training. His own scores had always been closest to her near-perfect ones and his balance score had been 2 whole points lower than hers.

“You’re late again, Marakhian,” she said, starting to stand on her own rock. Thomoh Marakhian sighed as he stood back up. His partner, Alatarie Kormahka, was always work-focused. He secretly rather admired it, but it didn’t help that he’d tried to make light of it when they first passed upwards to Patrol.

“Only because you insist on meeting early for our Patrol. I’m still early for the Patrol itself.” He only noticed that her smile had continued now, as it finally faded. Why did he always have to shoot himself in the foot?

Thomoh and Alatarie had grown up two villages apart, putting them only 30 miles from each other. They first saw each other on the first day of Training for the DarkWatch and it had been infatuation at first sight – at least, it had been for Thomoh. His admiration had only grown once he’d discovered that she easily outstripped even the Tutors in nearly every aspect of Training. Alatarie herself had been impressed at Thomoh’s ability to keep up with her in Training. He was the only Trainee who could. But she had also seen his attitude during those 2 years. He had been far more impressed by himself than she could imagine that his Scores could warrant – and even then, it was mainly for entirely unnecessary and vain… behaviours, she’d believed to be the closest word.

Graduation for Thomoh had been a blessing. It was the day the Tutors assigned the new recruits to their roles and partners. For him, the day had gone perfectly. He’d gotten his preferred role of Patrol – a chance to live in a new part of the island – and he’d been assigned to the highest-ranking recruit, aka, his infatuation. He’d thought he’d seen her watching him more in their last few Training sessions and had convinced himself that they would be together in a matter of days.

For Alatarie, Graduation was less of a ‘big thing’ than for the other new recruits of her cohort. She got much as she’d been expecting to. Her skills pushed her more towards Patrol and reserve Warrior than to Clerk or Recruitment. And she had expected to be partnered with the next highest-scoring recruit. Thomoh Marakhian. It wasn’t until the next night, when they met for their first Patrol, that she learned of his expectations. They weren’t entirely unusual; many partners ended up together, after having to know each other perfectly and spending so much time together. But it was his unwarranted confidence that she could never refuse him that had guaranteed he would not receive the answer he had expected.

‘Considering how confident he had been,’ she’d mused on her rock that earlier evening, ‘he took my negative surprisingly well. He didn’t even request a transfer, which would have been well within his rights, after my response. Of course,’ she now continued, knowing instinctively that they were both remembering earlier times, ‘he did continue to entertain a hope for a good month afterwards.’ She also noticed that Thomoh had winced at his own words. They had harkened back to a time when neither was so civil to the other as they both could have been.

Thomoh hadn’t meant for his words to sound so angry or defensive when he had spoken to Alatarie. He knew better, however, than to try again. He didn’t trust his own body to find the right tone and words, for starters. He sighed. “Let’s just get going, yeah?” he eventually suggested, trying to shake himself free from the mistakes he’d made in the past.

Alatarie nodded and somersaulted over him, landing 5 metres away on the beach, pointing in the direction they needed to be heading in. Back the way Thomoh had just come from. Her hair was now blowing around her face, due to the change in position and direction but, as Thomoh joined her on the sand, she tied it swiftly and neatly out of her way, in a delicately formidable French plait. Thomoh had yet to see her anywhere without a bobble and a spare around her wrist, and it had been over 2 years since they had first met. Alatarie was nothing if not a creature of habit.

He couldn’t help but note how intimidatingly attractive Alatarie looked in that moment. The light of the sunset caught her hair beautifully to give her a mane of righteous fire. This only helped to deepen the dark colour of her brown eyes which, in these conditions, adopted some of the caramel-and-fire orange of her hair. He found himself wishing that he had his sketching tablet and stick with him. It had been a present to him from his rich city-dwelling uncle, when he passed his Training with flying colours and he knew precisely how lucky he was to have such a device, rather than only having paper and colour sticks. Thomoh mentally shook himself. Tonight was turning very quickly into a dangerous one for him. First, he may end up off his game if he didn’t pull himself together. And second, well, there was a risk his own partner could murder him if she worked out where his mind was. But it got worse. He’d likely end up thanking her if she did kill him.

Their Patrol route didn’t start until they reached the Tower, but both kept their eyes open as they made their way to it from Alatarie’s beach. It paid to be vigilant, after all, especially walking through the marshes that separated the village from the surrounding land, including Alatarie’s beach. Of course, it was not her beach specifically, but she was the one who visited it the most and she had been the one to suggest they meet there before they went to their Patrol shifts. Alatarie had always loved the beach – and loved being as close to the water as was sensible, with the creatures that lived within it, just past the divide to the cove of the beach.

Thomoh and Alatarie kept in stride with each other, unlike when they had first been assigned Patrol. Alatarie had led the way then, as their Patrol route centred on the village where she had grown up, and its surrounding farmlands and marshes. She knew every field, bog and street as well as she knew her old family home, where her family had lived for four generations now. She knew which fields would have animals grazing and when. She knew the safest paths through the marshes. She’d been responsible for making sure her partner knew all of this too, once they passed up into Patrol. It was her job to watch his back and keep him safe, just as it was his job to keep her safe. Alatarie’s Patrol-wage had already paid to fix the roof of her family home, which had needed doing for years, at her insistence. Her parents had thought she should’ve saved that money to help her find her own place. She’d simply found a way to help her parents, which she considered far more important than leaving them alone in a crumbling house.

The Patrol walked to the start of their route in near-silence. Their sheathed Silver blades bounced against their legs as they walked in silent symmetry. If they had tried, Thomoh and Alatarie would’ve found it much harder to fall out of step with each other now than 4 months ago. They may have had an interesting start, but they couldn’t deny how well they worked together. As they passed the marsh where a ‘clan’ of Bog Wraiths nestled and noted that it looked suitably subdued, Thomoh finally spoke again. “What do your instincts tell you about tonight’s Patrol?” he asked his partner as they came out the other side of the Bog Wraiths’ territory.

Thomoh had quickly learned to trust Alatarie’s gut instincts at work, and it had saved them from a fair few ambushes in Denizen attacks in recent weeks. Her instincts were pretty much always right. There had been precisely 3 false alarms in their entire time patrolling, where she had felt that something would happen but nothing did. Alatarie shook her head as they pressed on and started to approach the Tower. “Feels calm to me,” she replied slowly. Thomoh had dragged her from her thoughts and now she felt unsettled. She really had to focus. But it felt like she had left her mind on the rocks, to carry on its ponderings without her.

They arrived at the Tower, as always, precisely on time for their Patrol. They both grabbed their flasks and torches that they checked out every night for their Patrols. Alatarie checked her torch, then clipped it to her belt beside her blade in one swift movement then stood back, flask in both hands, to wait for Thomoh to do the same. This too was part of their nightly routine. This was how their evenings passed 5 times a week. Another Patrol took the weekends, as well as acting as a reserve in case other Patrols couldn’t make their shifts.

Alatarie’s movements were always swift and sure. The torch had turned on. It would last the shift. She always found the belt with the torch’s clasp. She would only ever take calculated risks, but the calculations were often only moments behind her instincts.

Thomoh always double-checked his torch, also checking the display that it would last the night. His body had been known to act before his mental calculations had finished but he only fumbled clipping his torch to his belt if his mind was badly pre-occupied. It had been this way since early on in Training. Alatarie noticed him fumble it that night. He felt his face grow warmer as he finally clipped it on, but he knew she’d never mention it at the Tower, where any number of reserve Warriors and Clerks bustled and got on with their tasks.

Alatarie did indeed mention his fumble once they’d put a careful 30 paces between themselves and the Tower. Thomoh was simply glad she so disapproved of gossip. “You need to focus, Marakhian. Just because I sense no disturbance, there is no reason for shirking.” Both knew she hadn’t quite found the word she’d intended, but since Thomoh typically knew what she was grasping for, when she couldn’t find the right word, neither ever felt any need for elaboration.

Instead, he nodded and adopted his nightly posture. Thomoh had a specific gait that he adopted when on Patrol, which was now so familiar that he could already feel his mind honing in on the dimly lit streets surrounding them. Unless there was an attack or an ambush, there was typically no worry of Denizens within the village of Kharkahie itself. Even so, they had to be aware. In every form of society in Albion, there were creatures of one form or another sharing with the people. Big cities had Goblins and Sprites who kept the streets free from waste of most kinds. No one was sure when or why they had come to the cities and started this behaviour, but no one was willing to question it and risk the creatures leaving. Smaller locales, such as Kharkahie and Thomoh’s home village of Remnaix, had farming creatures guided by their farm-hands during the day and the occasional dust- or smoke-Demons at night, when beings were typically at rest and the fires in the homes had burnt – or been put – out. While none of these beings were Denizens, and therefore typically posed no threat to people or the Patrol, they were often easily spooked or horribly territorial, making any possible night-time encounters unnecessary and risky.

Thomoh and Alatarie settled into their usual silence as they made their way through the streets now familiar to them both. In their first few nights, Alatarie had pointed out things to Thomoh as they’d patrolled. The Hall here, close to the Tower. The street of shops there, with the Market Square down at the far end. The School she’d attended before being accepted for Training for the DarkWatch. Some of her old acquaintances still attended, though they were down to their last few weeks, now. Now these things that made it her village also made it his. He’d never attended the School but he’d been to plenty of Community Meetings in the Hall, bought food and clothing in the shops and the market, walked the streets – both by day and by night.

As they made their way around the streets, watching for creatures and Denizens alike, Thomoh could feel Alatarie’s mind frequently reaching out towards his. This in itself was not an unusual occurrence on their Patrols – though most partnerships had formed a full Mindlink by now – though the frequency of the reaches had already exceeded their most-anxious Patrol a month ago, when they had been nearly destroyed by a Chaos Denizen right there in the village streets. They’d been lucky to have still been so close to the Tower and within easy reach of assistance – and doubly lucky for Alatarie’s impeccable instincts. Even had he not had this advanced warning of her mood, with her mind reaching out, Thomoh would soon have picked up from his partner’s posture and gait – and near-frantic gaze – that something was amiss with Alatarie.

They would soon be needing their torches and leaving the streets when Thomoh broke the silence between them. Alatarie’s mind had reached for his again – a Patrol-er instinct, he knew – and he had started to allow his to respond when hers withdrew. “Ali,” he asked gently, at this, “what’s wrong? Your mind is nervier than a cow startled before milking.” He knew, being from a village so like his as she was, that she would understand his expression. He’d been a farm-lad himself before Training and it had been his mother’s favourite phrase.

She looked at him – clearly debating answering him – then quickly looked away, before abruptly stopping them on the boundary of the village. “You remember the Chaos Denizen that attacked these past 4 weeks, now?” Thomoh nodded and confirmed this. How could he forget that? Her instincts had saved his life. “And the illness of Energies it passed on?”

He decided he loathed where this conversation was going. Of course he remembered it. There’d been plenty of Community Meetings on the best course of treatment that could’ve turned sour, if not for the Clerks holding the village’s reins. People got so ill so quickly with that particular Chaos illness and the DarkWatch still weren’t exactly sure as to how it spread.

There was a pause where Alatarie didn’t speak. She’d yet to realise that – completely unknowingly – Thomoh had used her father’s nickname for her. Even without the Mindlink, Thomoh had a clear impression of what terrible news his partner had been bottling in. “It’s my father,” she eventually admitted in a hushed tone, confirming his worries. Alatarie loved both her parents dearly but was especially fond of her father. She still hadn’t looked at him since before she’d first started speaking. She’d actually gone to meet him at the beach hours earlier than usual, as she’d desperately needed the time alone to try to push her poor, dear father’s dire situation from her mind. A Patrol-er needed to be focused entirely on work, when on their shift. “He tried to hide it from us for a week, but now he has too little energy in his breath and bones to even change position, sat in his bed.” Alatarie’s voice was scarcely louder than a whisper but her tone betrayed her desperation. All she had was her two parents. Thomoh may have been alone in the village of Kharkahie but he had his parents and youngest siblings in Remnaix and his older brothers spread throughout Albion. Had she tasted her own desperation then, she would not have continued talking, even though it was Thomoh and they were on shift. “He is on the agreed treatment now but he seems so depleted and so little like himself.” Alatarie finally met Thomoh’s gaze, finally showing her fear – reflected in her eyes – that he had already tasted in her words. “I fear we are too late for him, Thomoh.”

Despite their lack of Mindlink, Thomoh felt her fears as acutely as if they had been his own. He had met Old Master Kormahka frequently enough in the village and in Community Meetings. He’d liked him; he certainly respected him, much as the rest of Kharkahie did. It was also not lost on him that this was the first time Alatarie had ever used his Individual Name. Even in casual conversation she had preferred his Family Name. He longed that their situation was not as it was. “Oh, Ali, look not so glum! Your father Kormahka has long been a strong and able man. And he has now taken treatment. You know how the illness of Energies goes. He will right after a Shift or 2. Fret not, dear partner. All will end in lightness.” Another of his mother’s phrases slipped out, but he knew they were the right words.

Alatarie noticed, this second time, as Thomoh used the nickname but she was altogether too anxious for her father’s condition to pay it much mind. “Thomoh, it has persisted now for 5 Shifts.” Thomoh froze and any new attempts to cheer his Patrol partner slipped resolutely from his grasp. The Old Master had been depleted 2 weeks? It was the longest bout he ever had heard of and he well understood the full scope of Alatarie’s worry, now. Her father led the DarkWatch across Kharkahie, Remnaix and even so far as the edge of the Big City, hence his affectionate title of Old Master. All Patrols, Clerks, Recruiters, Tutors and Warriors in this West- and Southern Quart of Albion answered to him. If he did not recover, she would be expected to take his mantle. And what would become of him? If they were Mindlinked, it would be simple. He would remain with Alatarie. Thomoh could find no words that could ever sufficiently comfort Alatarie – and could find no way to soothe his own mind, which had been well and truly shaken from the Patrol still before him.

When she found that Thomoh had no new words of comfort, Alatarie allowed them to continue their Patrol. As they walked, she retrieved her torch from her belt, spinning it in her grasp, before clicking it on and directing its glow ahead of them. Thomoh simply walked silently beside her, lost in worry for her, not getting his own torch out. It was here that she fully realised how she’d addressed him – and wondered why she’d told him. She came to the careful realisation that she had not banished her fear so resolutely as she’d planned. And that, indeed, she had begun to see Thomoh less as a comrade and more as a friend. A friend she often became exasperated by, but a friend no less. Even then, she wasn’t entirely clear on how she’d thought Thomoh might alleviate the stress, but she did feel the slightest bit lighter for having spoken her grief.

They hadn’t taken more that 20 paces out of the village when Alatarie broke the denser silence that had settled between them. “I cannot help but think: I may have carried it to him. I was the first Watch-member to tackle the Chaos Denizen…” She trailed as she remembered why. Her partner had been in danger. Thomoh had been in danger and she had done her job and jumped up to help him. It was what her father had always taught her. To do whatever she could to help others. She wasn’t saying she wished she hadn’t fought the Denizen away from him – and Thomoh knew this, too. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she was wishing.

Her words stirred Thomoh as they reached the Western Marsh, the opposite direction to her beach. “Come on, Ali, you can’t seriously believe yourself responsible! It had been a firm 2 weeks between. Even Patrols catch Chaos illnesses. Rumour that Energies was cooked ‘specially for Patrols around Albion! We both would have had time bedbound. Clear it from your mind, dear partner! Near half Kharkahie has been down these past 4 weeks.”

And here was where she understood answering his question. She smiled – and smiled consciously – for the first time in a week. The words he’d spoken near enough echoed what she’d been telling herself since she’d discovered her father was ill, but they had so much conviction behind them now. Thomoh knew her best, being her Patrol partner. He grinned back to her when he saw her smile and they continued through the Marsh, their comfortable silence returning. Her mind settled and was no longer desperate to reach his, though she found herself dwelling on his words – and adding what they told her about Now-Thomoh to her comparison with how he’d been when she’d first met him.

Alatarie completely missed her torch start to flicker. It wasn’t a sign they were expecting to need to watch for. Thomoh, not wanting to worry unnecessarily, pulled his own torch out and clicked it on, checking its display. His torch was full of glow – it was an ever more precious commodity, since the stone-caves in the East had started to deplete. He watched as their torches flickered in sync. He stopped dead. Here? Now? In the Western Marsh? He opened his flask’s bottom compartment and whispered a message to the Heat Stone within, for it to pass to the Tower. Alatarie hadn’t stopped, which he now noticed.

There was a double-flicker and Thomoh cursed the darkness under his breath. It was close now. But the extra flash had caught Alatarie’s attention. She stopped dead, glanced around for Thomoh and checked her display as she turned and started to return to him.

“Ali,” he whispered, his eyes widening and his skin paling. She immediately caught his gaze and froze to the spot. Thomoh could see It – well, not see It, but what they’d been taught to watch for. It had found them. It had finally come South, after a century away from their coasts. He could see the distinct blackness that was Its trademark. Its shadow blocked out the stars that had been appearing as the sun had finished setting, allowing Thomoh to estimate It as at least 5 times his height – and he was tall for a young man of his age. He was a little bit taller than the average height of a man of Albion. Alatarie was shorter than him of course, and short for a woman of her age, but she was also a mean fighter, and no person would dare mock her height, even had they ever debated mocking any other woman Alatarie’s size.

They were alone, in a darkened Marsh, face to face with the deadliest creature in all of Albion. Thomoh could only pray in the name of the Light that the sirens had started to sound in their village, while Alatarie prayed he’d alerted the Tower at his first fear of It being here. They were alone with the Dark Itself.

Thomoh had sent his plea via Heat Stone – the fastest and most secure way to pass messages, should something show on Patrol – and his torch now guttered out under the imposing blackness of the Dark, so he dropped both torch and flask at his feet. He kept his gaze on Alatarie and It as his hand drifted to his Silver blade. They were trained to do this on instinct, so he knew Alatarie would be doing the same. They could only pray in the name of all that is Light that they had assistance in the form of Trained Warriors arriving soon.

‘Stupid children!’ Thomoh heard echo in his mind, along with a malicious cackle. ‘You number only 2 and hope to hold me? You are but quivering infants, beside me! Barely even a snack!’

Thomoh had never heard before that the Dark would reach into your mind to taunt you. The voice – and everything else about the creature – was cold and seemed to empty Thomoh’s soul completely. But still Thomoh saw strands of Nothing – as clear to him as tendrils of incorporeal Mind – reaching out towards Alatarie.

Not on his Shift!

Thomoh didn’t even think as he leaped 3 metres, straight over Alatarie, drawing his Silver as he did, and slashing at the strands that had been reaching for his partner as he landed. As he slashed at the first strands, however, a second round reached around him and one caught Alatarie as she fought this second round herself. At her slight yelp, he felt his mind reach desperately for hers, his body still using every trick that he knew to fight off the Dark Itself. He near collapsed as he felt her mind link to his. He felt his worry flow to her and he tried to pass her some of his strength but it wasn’t enough. He backflipped to Alatarie at the next opportunity he got and could feel how bad she was getting, now he was closer. They wordlessly pressed their backs together, out of both strategy and necessity. The strands of Nothing kept coming at them and Alatarie was starting to really struggle.

She collapsed to her knees. Thomoh glanced at her. He held his free hand back to her as the other fought as hard as he could make it. After a moment, he felt her Silver blade in his hand. She slid full to the floor behind him and he continued to fight the Dark, desperate to at least hold It off until help came for Alatarie. The voice continued to mock him in his mind. He knew for certain that she also heard It, now. Finally, after 4 months being partnered and working together almost every day, their minds were one.

Thomoh was starting to lose his Energy – and Alatarie was losing consciousness – by the time help arrived, in the form of the whole village’s Warriors. Aarrin, one of the Warriors with whom Thomoh was friendly, came to his side. Even in the blackness surrounding the Dark, Thomoh could make out Aarrin’s fair hair. It picked up the very little light that his drawn Silver was able to find to reflect, making him seem like the Patrol’s very own Guardian Star. Thomoh knew that Aarrin would mock him, if he knew that was how Thomoh was viewing his appearance in that moment. “The rest of the Quart’s Warriors are on their way to us,” he told his friend as he joined the fight against the Dark. “You have fought well, Patrol.” Thomoh felt his legs threaten to give. Other Warriors were approaching and engaging the strands of Nothing now but Thomoh couldn’t focus on them. His hands were cramping and he could still hear the Dark in his mind, taunting him. “Go to her,” Aarrin added quietly, piercing the Dark’s negativity. Finally seeing all of the Warriors and their Silver weapons surrounding the Nothing, Thomoh nodded and collapsed to his knees beside Alatarie, to wait for extraction. It wouldn’t be long now that help had arrived. Thomoh nearly lost it when he felt Alatarie lose consciousness.