Painted Black

Construction took some urging but, given the curiosity spreading to the people, they pitched in however they could. Husbands and fathers gathered wood from the trees, creating the walls and the roof of the shack. Wives and mothers, including Lindia, gathered what they could for pitch as to keep the inside relatively warm. Children brought both sides food and water. Two days, and the shack itself was completed, with one door facing the woods and another facing the wall (a rope ladder was hung over the side nearby, just in case). Tholan, on the third day, remembered that there would be a meeting and gathered a table and four chairs for the inside, plus four cups and a container of fresh water. He waited, the sun facing another cloudless day and continuing unimpeded across the sky.

Lindia came around, standing at Tholan's side. She worked hard, despite her recent illness, and now she embraced Tholan's arm as she anticipated her father's return. "What is happening, love?" she asked. "What has my father so worked up?"

Tholan looked upon Lindia, stroking her hair. "A friend from his past has, apparently, appeared at our front door. I think-"

He stopped as a figure emerged from the trees. It was Garrold! He looked worn, but otherwise appeared fine. He carried something in his left hand, and waved to the two with his right, coming closer. Finally, he arrived as breathless as a ghost, though he luckily appeared not as such. "Is...is it...done?" he gasped. When both Tholan and Lindia nodded, he tried to wave away Lindia. "You should be home, dear. You will need your strength for later."

"I find strength with the two men that I love, here and now", argued Lindia. She gripped Tholan's arm even tighter, emphasizing her point. She was not going to let her father disappear from her sight again when he just got back, especially with this Viczent character.

Garrold looked to the sky. Time was running out. "Hold this!" He gave Tholan a cannister while running again, this time to the gates. Another ten minutes, and he returned with lanterns, a sheathed dagger, and a mirror on a chain and a large spike. He opened up the shack, inviting the others inside, where he walked around the table and chairs, and stood in front of the shack wall. With the spike, he stabbed it into the wall, and hanged the mirror from it. He then peaked back outside and closed the wall-facing door. He passed some sort of band from under his coat to Lindia, where a bunch of bulbs were strung together. Seeing her wrinkled face, Garrold explained, "It's garlic. Wrap it around your hand and hide it under the table. Tholan!" He rushed over and handed the young man the sheathed dagger. Tholan took it and peaked at the blade. Silver. "Just in case", assured the concerned Garrold. He then indicated the seats, where Tholan sat Lindia first before taking a chair. Now, they waited.

An hour was almost over-

WHAM!

The unexpected gust of wind smashed against the shack, shaking the whole construct. Tholan and Lindia jumped, but Garrold held out his hand to calm them.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

The door facing the forest rattled with each strike. Garrold moved carefully to the door. Opening it, the first to greet them was the darkness of the night. As if a picture was coming into focus, the stranger was soon outlined in the black air, the snow reflecting what little light the stars above and the torches behind could give them. The red eyes, dark though they were, gleamed as if in competition with the lanterns inside the shack. Here was the Nightkin, in all his pale and powerful glory, yet not moving past the threshhold.

"Good evening, Viczent," Garrold greeted the guest, "you may enter."

Viczent flowed past the door, looking first to Garrold, then to Tholan, and finally to Lindia. He smiled his sharp incisors not in threat, but in an almost giddy cheerfulness as if he wanted to meet them for a long time. That smile soon faded as, looking up and around the construct, his dark-red eyes fell upon the mirror. He walked over to it, gazing longingly into the reflective surface.

"You still know how to wound me, old friend", he cooed, though a hint of anger and sadness seemed to seep out. Caressing the glass, he commented, "A tool of vanity, yet one that also reveals the ugly truth necessary for humility." All of a sudden, he punched the wall, shaking the construct and rattling the mirror, but Garrold raised his hands yet again to reign in both Tholan and Lindia. After a moment, Viczent turned to the two, and tears appeared in his eyes. "Forgive me; I must control myself better than this. Garrold, I know why you did this, just as I know why you have the young lady hold onto the garlic and the young man the silver dagger. Your message is clear."

Tholan was so focused on Viczent that he almost did not notice the lack of the reflection from the stranger. He turned to Lindia, who affirmed that she also saw it. He looked back to Viczent as the guest sat down opposite the two, with Garrold taking a seat at his side. He set the cannister in front of Viczent; "A house-warming gift for our guest of honor!"

Viczent scoffed and removed the top of the cannister. "It is fresh, old friend. Who did you kill to get this?"

Garrold frowned. "The Hunter is still alive. I only took what was needed."

"Of course", remarked Viczent, and he gulped down the contents. A red trickle came down his chin, with a strong hint of iron almost overwhelming the aroma of garlic. After nearly emptying the cannister, Viczent licked his mouth clean, flicking away the red bead upon his chin with a finger. "To Garrold the Merciful!" he toasted, and set his drink down. "The last time you did this for me was not long ago, during the last great war."

"Yes," Garrold interrupted, "the fourth war of the world."

Viczent smiled. "By then, my people were wide awake and waning in power. Yours, meanwhile, were trying to hide amongst the public, fighting on all sides as if you were bands of brothers."

Garrold scowled. "We were."

"As soldiers, yes. But you could never share your secret with the rest, could you? Neither could I nor my kind, or their weapons would have turned against the both of us. Ironic, as after the dust settled and the war was almost ended, they turned their weapons upon us regardless."

"Only because I ended up doing what I though was right, in saving your life!" Garrold shifted in his chair, his eyes staring past all three occupants as if holding the opposing wall accountable for some wrongdoing. Viczent looked upon the elder leader, and then turned his attention to the couple. "You two...are you married?"

Tholan looked at Lindia, wondering if that question should be answered. Lindia looked down at her garlic-bulb wrapped-up hand, and kept it in her lap. "Yes", she answered. "We married near the end of summer."

Viczent nodded. "You, young man, you are a protector of this fort?"

Tholan straightened up. "It's not a fort, but yes, I protect it. We are only adding a wall and gate because of the outside world."

"You afraid of Hunters, young man?" inquired Viczent.

"No. I anticipate them."

"Is it just the Hunters you anticipate?"

"There are...other threats."

"Such as?"

Tholan wondered why he felt compelled to answer these questions, as he looked into the red eyes of Viczent. "Abominations, ultrantulas, Black Wolves-"

"Black Wolves?!" Viczent shifted his eyes, and Tholan suddenly snapped out of his trance. "Did...did you also see the dark obelisks?"

Tholan was now no longer compelled to answer, but he did so anyways albeit with his eyes pointed more to the table rather than into the stranger's eyes. "Yes, I saw the black obelisks."

"They're not black, young man," corrected Viczent, "they're dark-green. Apparently, our enemies don't know how to stay dead, Garrold."

The elder continued staring away, but retorted, "The same can be said for a lot of things."

BAM!

Viczent slammed the cannister in front of Garrold, his mouth now curled into a snarl. "If you are insinuating something, say so! Do not hide insults from me, I know you better than that!"

Finally, Garrold looked into Viczent's eyes, but fell under no trance except that which anger notoriously brought with it; "If you knew me better, you would not have come to this place at all, and endangered my people!"

At this, Viczent stood up and screamed out a freezing bomb: "YOUR ACTIONS ENDANGERED EVERYONE!"

Garrold was on his feet, his form starting to alter as he bared now-growing fangs in an enlarging mouth. Viczent dug his nails into the table, as the lights of the lanterns started flickering and the shack trembled. Tholan and Lindia were both on their feet, both also ready to transform immediately. Lindia held onto the garlic bulb necklace, as Tholan unsheathed the silver dagger.

Forever and a day. That was how time seemed to work inside the construct while the night air glided peacefully in its scheduled second-by-second routine. Then, Viczent closed his eyes and his nails retracted from the table, his form now collapsing like a corpse finally allowing gravity to do its job. Garrold, in turn, reassessed himself to his elder form, holding his hand out one last time; Tholan and Lindia sat in response.

"Why did you save me?"

This whisper caused Garrold to balk, gasping slightly at Viczent's question. This time, there was no retort and no need to make an argument; the person sprawled in the chair before him didn't address him as an elder or a protector, a father or a soldier, but as a friend. Even like a brother. Garrold slowly sat down next to this pale creature and breathed his answer:

"I...I thought I was doing...the right thing."

Viczent closed his eyes again. "You and I, serving together in the fourth war of the world, keeping our secret from everyone except each other; one Nightkin, one Moon-Keeper, and brothers-in-arms despite how our people viewed each other. But despite our powers, we weren't invincible. You saw what that shrapnel did to me. You knew that I was a goner."

Garrold shook his head as if trying to dry his eyes before they could get wet. "Is this why you are here, to open old wounds?"

Viczent raised his head, an eye upon the elder. "My people demanded the nobles to find threats to their home, no different than what you are doing."

"You were chosen because you were the best?"

"I volunteered because I was the best. And," Viczent then leaned closer to Garrold, "because I hoped to find you again. For decades, I looked at everything in this world, what it all meant, where it all went to hell. And, in looking for threats, I hoped to find you one day because, old friend, I need closure. We all do. Please tell me why?"

The elder wiped a tear from his eye. "Because you were my friend, Viczent! Because no one could have done for you what I could, given your conditions. I saw you near death. I found an enemy combatant. I took him back to you, and then I had you take what you needed from him. But you took too much, and you took too long, and then..."

Viczent nodded. "Then both sides found out. Our side tried to detain us, and you transformed and pushed past them. The other side tried to kill us, and you carved a path through them. Both sides ended up shooting at us." He then laughed, but it was a sad laugh, not intentionally mocking anyone. "That day, we ended a war, only to create another one. You and I...made the Hunters."

Garrold inhaled deeply, trying to calm his emotions. "After that, your nobles excommunicated me and my people, and I never contacted you again. I was so angry, so scared, and I took the survivors to a place that seemed secluded and safe. How wrong I was!" He held his palms up to his temples, trying to fight the tears that fought back almost as hard.

Tholan looked from Garrold to Viczent. This was a far cry from what he had read about the Nightkin. Perhaps this one was an exception to the rule? Or maybe...the books were wrong? Were his people too hasty in labeling the Nightkin? Viczent caught him staring, and Tholan looked away.

"I take it that Garrold never mentioned his past to either of you?" Viczent asked. Before they answered, Viczent raised his own hand. "Please, understand, it was a horrible time. That war, like all the other wars of the world, took everything from all who participated; our time and effort, our empathy and humanity, our...blood and...tears..."

At this, Viczent wiped away at his own face and reached out to Garrold, gently gripping his arm. "I am grateful that you saved my life, that you were my friend. The cost was high, and I am sorry for my part in all of this. I should take the blame."

"No," interjected Garrold, "the blame is mine. I exposed us, and our people. Now, we are hounded and marked."

"It was thirty years ago, old friend. My nobles are in talks to lift the excommunication. It...it would mean the world to me if...if you could come back and convince them to be allies once more." When Garrold didn't respond immediately, Viczent tried with more vigor; "Come on, Garrold! We can't undo our mistake, but we can make amends. At least do it for your people, your daughter and her husband! Do it...for your grandchild."

"Wait...grandchild?"

Garrold turned to look at Tholan and Lindia. The couple were just as stunned, Tholan even more so. He had been hoping, praying to his patron deity for a child. "Lindia is...pregnant?"

Viczent nodded. "I can sense heartbeats even past the flesh, young man. Though, young lady, that garlic you are currently holding almost makes such difficult beyond measure."

Still in shock from everything that suddenly happened in this tiny room in the cradle of nowhere, Garrold stood up. Viczent, in turn, stood up and reached to steady his old friend. The elder allowed him and then hugged the stranger. "Viczent! Brother! I'm going to be a grandfather!"

Viczent carefully pried the elder's arms off of him. "You almost crushed me, man! But it's the truth! And I am happy that you are happy. I just...I thought...well, now I don't know what to say."

Garrold gripped his shoulders. "Say 'yes' to your nobles! But give us time; I want to see my grandchild before I leave. Tell them that I will have talks, providing that they will have listeners." When Viczent nodded, Garrold hugged him again. Then, he made his way around the table and hugged Tholan. "My boy, my grandchild's father!" He then, tearfully, went to his daughter and basically hoisted her out of the chair. "My beautiful daughter! If only your mother were here to see this day! My lovely daughter, a mother herself!"

Viczent nodded. "I'll take my leave; first light will come soon. Young man, young lady, old friend, congratulations! And Garrold," he paused, "thank you. For everything." At this, he held out his hand. Garrold came back around and took it, almost pulling the stranger into another hug. "I'll inform my people of your people's well-being and acceptance to talks."

As the Nightkin turned to leave, Tholan called out, "Wait!" When Viczent turned to him, Tholan said, "I...I'm sorry, sir. I thought poorly of the Nightkin, believing that you and yours were bloodthirsty beings intent on dominating all other beings."

Viczent smiled, his incisors gleaming again. "Some of us are, but my sect is a lot wiser than that. I am grateful that you are, too." He gave a nod to Lindia, then turned back to the darkness. Despite the glow of first light's impending arrival, the Nightkin was a mere outline leaving the shack, and then became part of the darkness once more.