Guardians of the Dark

Samael surveyed the north-eastern side of the Metropolis of Light, the Eastern Living Section. He flicked through the houses with his eyes – like he’d done so many times before – only to pause on a block of boxy, titanium-white ones. He counted down the streets, followed by the houses. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

There is was.

The fifth house.

His old home.

While he couldn’t recall much about it – like the kitchen, the living room, or even his own bedroom – he remembered its roof like he’d been up there yesterday. He remembered how he and Kasen used to play the best games, like pretend the solar panels were space satellites, and they the astronauts sent to repair them.

Oh, right.

Kasen.

A Guardian.

Perhaps they wouldn’t run into each other. Or perhaps they would, but Kasen wouldn’t recognise him, remember him. No. Not likely. The entire city ought to have seen the broadcast of the attack the other day.

Samael checked his transmission band: 5:58 PM.

True to its name, the Metropolis of Light was a city of everlasting day. He glanced behind him – beyond the troop of Raiders, and nearly a thousand Roamers in cages – at the night-enveloped sand dunes and overcast city in their wake. The city of eternal night, of the Corrupted, and ruled by the Emperor of the Dark.

“You better not mess this up, Sammy boy,” grumbled Theon next to him. He held up a pair of battered binoculars and swerved from left to right, to the Eastern and Northern Collection Points respectively.

“Nothing will go wrong,” Samael insisted.

“If you say so.” Theon huffed. He lowered his gaze to the canyon under them, swiftly scanning it as well. They were at the edge of the ancient Nile, a river that had dried up quite some years ago. He skimmed it from left to right, then raised his thumb in the air. A couple of Raiders lowered rope ladders over the bank.

Samael checked his transmission band again: 6 PM.

“It’s time,” he declared. He stuck out his hand, and Theon reluctantly gave him the binoculars. He took them, carefully, and raised them to his eyes. He swerved to the Collection Points, scanning the fence’s foot.

Theon turned to the fleet behind them.

“Raiders, are you ready?” A chorus of cheers followed his enquiry. He spoke on, specifically addressing the Raiders responsible for the Roamers. “On my signal, wheel out the cages. Five-hundred Roamers to the Northern Collection Point, and five-hundred to the Eastern. Wait ten minutes before you release them.”

The Raiders agreed.

“Remember, the Roamers are only our decoys. Do not engage. Once they’ve been released, return to this spot, and keep your transmission bands active. If my team were to require assistance, I’ll broadcast my orders.”

More cheers.

Theon looked to Samael, then asked in a thin voice, “Did I forget anything, fellow second-in-command?”

Samael narrowed his eyes at him, but shook his head.

“Very well, then.” Theon cracked his knuckles. “Let’s take this forsaken city down once and for all! Raiders, Roamers, Corrupted of all types, let’s head out!” He bellowed from his belly, and the fleet became alive.

The Raiders with the cages dispersed, five-hundred Roamers due north, and the other five-hundred east. Each cage required about five people to push it, and three more to control the unhappy Roamers inside. Wheels squeaked and feet rustled. Dust billowed into the air, fogging up their surroundings even more, darkening the Dark.

Once everyone had gone, only five of them remained. They were Samael, Theon, and three other men. Three of the best Raiders in the Dark Capital, according to Theon. Samael recalled them from training, but didn’t know them. They were large, hulky and had biceps almost as swollen as Theon’s or General Bentley Traynor’s. Their party might’ve proved small, but they were more than capable to finish the job.

“While I usually prefer a bit more man power,” noted Theon, groaning of sorts, “I guess this’ll do for an infiltration.”

“We’re already too many in my opinion,” Samael said. He turned, crouched, and mounted one of the rope ladders. He clambered down, slightly too fast, which made the ladder swing from side to side, scraping the riverbank.

“Noob …” grumbled Theon, but set after him.

Samael reached the end of the ladder and leapt to the ground. It hung a couple feet in the air, so he took care not to twist his ankle. He refused to have something as trivial as a self-inflicted injury bring him down.

“Watch it, runt!”

Samael sprang back just as the beast of a man plummeted next to him.

“We’re not even inside the city yet, and you’re already getting in my way,” Theon snarled through his teeth. He held the ladders still for the others, and didn’t let go until they too shook the earth with their plunges.

Samael, in the meantime, traversed across the canyon to a lattice of glowing wire by the opening of a cave – their entryway to the Metropolis of Light, an alleged escape tunnel for Emperor Hamman if the city were to be attacked. The wire across the entrance buzzed with electricity, so he approached it with caution.

“Perhaps wait for the rest of the team, will you?” bellowed Theon from across the canyon, his voice echoing down the length of the river. His footsteps boomed off the ground, sending tremors up the riverbanks.

Samael turned on his heels. “Could you possibly be any louder?” he hissed.

“Could you possibly wait for us – the muscle – before you run off like that? What if this was a trap or something?”

“That’s why I’m checking it out.” Samael did his best to lower his voice, but it nonetheless pitched. “I know you’re not used to working in stealth, Theon, but try to keep those gigantic things you call feet on the ground.”

Theon licked across his teeth. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me, Sammy boy.” He took another, not at all quieter, step forward. “But I don’t take orders from you. If I want to trudge around, I’ll damn well do so.”

Samael snarled, “This is serious, Theon, we –”

The wires across the entrance deactivated, and the steel door behind it creaked. It parted on a screen at first, and a person – their voice rustled and indistinguishable under a helmet – asked, “Go ahead, state your business.”

Theon and Samael exchanged a look, then Theon pushed him aside. “Emperor Sumuri sent us. He said we’d be granted access to the Metropolis of Light from here. Open up, or we’ll be forced to break down the door.”

Samael clapped his palm to his face. What a meat-head. Threatening the Emperor’s inside man was hardly the smart thing to do, especially when they already played a dangerous game in trusting them to begin with.

The person on the other side of the door laughed. “He said you’d threaten me. But that won’t be necessary.”

And with that, the door opened all the way.

“Get in,” said the person.

Theon happily complied. He motioned for the others to follow, and Samael strode in after them, although not without checking behind them first. They couldn’t be followed, of course, but he wasn’t sure whether they should place so much trust in someone from the Light. He had done so once before, and look how that turned out.

The person shut the door and reactivated the wires. The lock was code-activated, which proved somewhat unusual, but convenient. Samael followed the person’s fingers across the panel: Three. Three. Three. Six.

“Why’d you close it up?” asked Theon, somewhat hostile again.

The person – Gatherer X, by the looks of them – rubbed their gloved hands together. They wore a full insolation suit, complete with a helmet and a knife. Nothing distinguished them as the same person he’d seen the other night, but, of course, it had to be. The Emperor never said anything about Gatherer X having a partner.

“I don’t want anyone to escape,” said Gatherer X. “Once we’ve killed the switch, we want everyone in one place. That includes Emperor Hamman. He’ll make a break for this tunnel, but I’ve changed the code.”

Theon seemed to accept this explanation. He looked to Samael. “What do you think? Can we trust this person?”

Samael thought back to that night, to the moment Gatherer X had left Gatherer Y to die. The two of them likely knew each other, perhaps worked together at the Collection Point. They might’ve been friends, even lovers.

And yet, Gatherer X still obeyed the Emperor’s orders.

“Yes,” was all he said.

Theon looked the person over again. He snorted, drew a knife from his belt, and turned to set off down the tunnel. A line of small, red lights on the ground lit their way. Other than that, they were in a place as dark as the outside. Samael reckoned it a ten minute walk to the exit, since it stretched right under the city.

“Which way is the switch?” asked Theon.

Gatherer X rounded the group – wearily – and reversed ahead of them. “We can make our way to the Craedor Fortress now, but you’ll have to wait until at least after seven o’clock for the plan to commence.”

Theon stopped. “What do you mean, seven? We’ve already dispersed our Roamers to the Collection Points. The damn plan’s already in motion!” The knife in his hand lit up, reflecting off Gatherer X’s helmet.

“Emperor Hamman has called a meeting tonight at seven. All Senior Officers and Officers are to attend, which leaves the switch unguarded.” A pause. “Well, not entirely. There’ll be a team of recruits there.”

“Recruits?”

Samael swallowed. That likely meant Kasen. He was a Guardian now, after all. It was his job to protect the Dark. A sourness flushed his mouth – not exactly bile, but not spit either. He promptly swallowed it.

Perhaps he could convince Kasen to step aside. Perhaps he could persuade him comply in exchange for his life.

But what if he didn’t want to?

“We’ll think of them as light entertainment.” Gatherer X chuckled again, but not quite as confidently as before. He or she turned around, and the group walked on again. “I’ve planned every part of tonight to the letter.”

Theon roared with delight. He put away his knife and cracked his knuckles again. “Good. I’m thirsty for some blood.”

They walked along.

“Where are they keeping General Bentley Traynor?” asked Samael when no one spoke for several minutes. He checked his transmission band again: 6:20 PM. They still had plenty of time. He still had plenty of time.

“What the heck, Samael?” Theon blurted out, actually calling him by his name. “What does he have to do with this?”

Samael upped his walking pace. His pushed past the other three Raiders. “Where are they keeping him?” he repeated.

Gatherer X didn’t turn their head, but Samael knew they could see him. His face likely reflected on the inside of the helmet. “Samael of the Dark,” they acknowledged, softly. “They’re keeping him in the city hospital.”

“Will I be able to make it there and back again in time? You know, without being spotted in the process?”

“Wh – uh – I guess so.”

Theon grabbed Samael by the shoulder. He squeezed with his fingers, but his nails were too short, too blunt, to puncture his flesh. He wrenched away, but Theon only grabbed him with the other hand. They came to a stop. “Samael, are you out of your damn mind? Why do you want to know the General’s location?”

“I’ve got a little detour to make.” Samael pulled away again, and when Theon made to grab him, he whipped out his staff and deployed its blades. “Don’t touch me! Emperor Sumuri ordered me to finish off the General, and I’m not about to disobey direct orders. You lot can wait at the Fortress, but I’m going to the hospital.”

Theon reached for his belt, but didn’t draw his knife. “You think you’re tough, eh? Now that you’re a Raider and all?”

Samael grunted to himself.

“Well,” Theon went on, “you’re not.”

Gatherer X made to step in between them, although briefly second guessed it. “Fellas, we have to get moving.”

“Right.” Samael put away his staff, turned, and walked on. A speck of light came into view – the tunnel’s exit. Voices echoed from the space beyond, followed by footsteps and the sound of water and railway pods. He slowed down, quieted down. They were in Craedor Fortress now, the centre of the Metropolis of Light.

“Where’s the hospital located?” Theon wanted to know, actually managing to control the sound of his steps.

“Two blocks from here,” said Gatherer X. “I can provide you an AOL railway pod, but I don’t think this is a good idea.”

The other three Raiders agreed. They tried to reason with Theon, who simply said, “I know this a bad idea, but –”

“Theon,” Samael interrupted him, “I’m not kidding, I’ll go alone.”

“No, you’re not.”

Samael glared at him, followed by the three Raiders and Gatherer X. Theon actually wanted to come with him to the hospital? Why? He clearly thought it an idiotic idea, and he certainly didn’t care whether or not he died …

Theon made his way to the tunnel’s entrance, then peered around it. A pair of Guardians marched by – “I heard they’re appointing Commander Eli of the Southern Collection Point the new General.” – and he jerked back. He retreated into the shadows, walking right up to Samael, towering over him with a frown between his brows.

“If you’re telling the truth, and the Emperor did order you to do this, I’m not going to sit around here, hoping you don’t die.”

“I’ll make it back,” Samael insisted. He stood his ground, unhindered by Theon’s overwhelming stature and course-as-gravel voice. Even his breath smelled like that of a cave-bound beast’s. “Nothing will go wrong.”

Theon smirked. “You’re right, Sammy boy. Nothing will go wrong as long as I tag along to save your sorry behind.”