Chapter XVIII

Meanwhile, in the midst of the Dark Zone, a single figure was riding by horse through the trees in the faint morning light. The fog, though still very heavy, was slightly blocked by the woods of the mountains, and so even just after dawn, it was quite dark at ground level.

The rider traveled swiftly, zigzagging through the woods along a narrow dirt trail. He was a young man, in his early twenties, and he was one of the people of the valley of Ravenna. He was wearing a ragged, leather chest plate, on which he carried a large knife in a holster and a wooden longbow on his back. There was also a harness attached to the horse. One side of it held a quiver full of arrows and a stone sword in a scabbard on the other side. The man wore a brown hood over his head, under which his face showed an expression of ceaseless hate and resent as well as a few old battle scars.

He rode for miles in the dark break of dawn. After nearly an hour, he soon came upon a slight opening in the woods. The fog that had been blocked by the tree canopy became more dense as it settled low to the ground. Before long, the terrain to the left of the path began to rise up, and to the right, it began to drop downward. The tree line had broken apart and within minutes the rider found himself coming out onto a much wider but still narrow path stretching straight outward, with a high cliff side directly to the left and a steep drop to the right. The path itself was only about thirty feet in width at its widest point. Beyond the cliff, the rider could see the Appalachian mountain ranges extending for miles. There were many hills and valleys to be seen as the fog began to dissipate, painted with the light green color of the trees’ spring blooming, and towering rocky mountains pointed ever upward.

Most of these areas belonged to the boundaries of the Dark Zone. Straight ahead, at the far end of the perilous cliff trail, the path suddenly fell and joined the drop off. Just on the other side of the drop was the border of a large plateau belonging to a separate section of the mountain ranges. The area was still cloudy as the fog continued to slowly rise, but the man on the horse could make out the natural structure of a bridge eroded from the mountainside leading up to the plateau. He rode across the land bridge, which was quite sturdy and supportive as the horse galloped over it. Upon reaching the other side, the rider stopped and looked out at the sight that stood before him.

Lining around the edge of the plateau was a man-made wall, standing around twenty feet high. It was built primarily from large stones piled evenly atop one another and held firmly together by a frame of wooden beams and posts. Another path was laid down to lead the rider up straight toward the wall, where it split into a gate-like opening. He rode into the wall’s perimeter and then brought his horse to a quick halt. He dismounted the horse, and as he did so, two other men appeared to greet him.

The first man approached him. “Welcome back, Malachai.” he said, bringing his hand up to touch his forehead and then back down to rest against his heart.

The horse rider, Malachai, nodded back to him. “Am I the last one back?” he asked.

“Yes,” he replied, looking out through the entryway. “The last of the riders came in just before dawn.”

Malachai looked inward to the plateau. “Where is he?”

The man followed his gaze and pointed the same direction. Knowing who Malachai was referring to, he replied, “In the map room. He’s been there all day.”

“Alright,” Malachai nodded. He reached over and patted his horse. “Take him down to the stable.” He then turned and headed away into the plateau. As he did so, the man at the gateway muttered something in their speech to the other with him and they led Malachai’s horse away.

The Citadel; the last place of refuge for the people of Ravenna. It was here on the mountain plateau that Delmar led the remnants of his people to safety, and over the years, they had come to construct an imposing fortress atop the great upland. A quaint pathway extended from the gateway through which Malachai had entered and traveled just up a small rise. Malachai followed it up over the hill, and that was when he saw it.

The fortress called the Citadel was made of an immense structure that sat near the center of the flatland of the plateau. At its base, a second stone wall encircled it. There were several dozen people standing all along the top of the inner wall, looking out in every direction. Some just stared out into the distance, some looked down to see Malachai approaching, while others were just talking amongst each other. On the other side of the wall, the fortress rose upward with a great barrel-like structure. It was built in layers, each tier smaller than the one below it. The central structure consisted of four layers pointing up like an obelisk. Over Malachai’s head, there were many long, bridge-like extensions stretching from the tower and connecting to the plateau’s outer wall in several directions. It was a truly impressive construction of wood, stone, and clay.

Malachai passed through the opening in the wall, similar to the first one. There were many people within the walls; speaking with one another, some hauling materials in and out such as wood, food and other resources. The fog was only just starting to lift completely and the keepers of the Citadel were already busy trying to maintain their new home.

It was dimly lit on the inside, but Malachai and his people were well accustomed to the dark. The bottom level had a diameter of approximately thirty yards. The walls were covered all the way around by hundreds of hanging bows and quivers of arrows with each one. Throughout the rest of the large chamber were many rows of standing racks holding sheathed swords and other bladed weapons. It was obvious that this room was designed to be the Citadel’s armory, where they kept their weapons in case of an ensuing conflict.

This is not where Malachai was headed, though. Just inside the chamber there was a staircase to the right of the entryway and an identical one on the other side. The stairways traveled up along the wall and disappeared about a quarter of the way around into the next layer of the tower. Malachai followed it up.

The next level was only a few yards smaller than the first. As the bottom layer was used as their weapons closet, this chamber appeared to be some sort of forge. At the walls adjacent to where the stairs entered, there were clusters of stone blocks, similar to anvils, and furnaces sitting against the walls. The furnaces each had a large, metal pipe sticking out through the wall to vent the smoke outside of the structure. They were stone cold, however, as the people of the Citadel had all of their weapons made and, at this point, never had a reason to mass distribute them from the armory.

The stairs continued up around the wall. The two identical staircases met when they reached the third layer of the tower. This level was much different than the two below. It was more brightly lit, and the chamber revealed a corridor in the middle running from the stairs’ entry to the other end of the room. On either side of the hall were several rooms, the doorways of which were covered by a cloth-like curtain. Malachai knew this to be a medical chamber, intended for any who acquired a serious injury in the wilderness of the Darkzone. Just like the armory and the forge, it was rarely used because such incidents almost never occurred over the past five years.

From one of the rooms on the left side, a woman emerged into the corridor. She was an older woman, with aging gray hair put up in a bun. She wore a light coat of fur, and in her arms, she carried what appeared to be a folded blanket. As she entered the hallway, she looked up to see Malachai and smiled at him as he approached. “Good to see you back, Malachai,” she beamed.

Malachai nodded to her. “Morning, Altha,” he replied, stopping before her. “How have you been?”

At first she seemed to disregard Malachai as she headed over to another room along the corridor. “Another long day out with the crusaders?” she then responded, reaching into one of the rooms and placing the blanket onto the ground in the corner.

Malachai grinned to himself. “It was just reconnaissance, Altha,” he replied. “We’re not at war yet.”

Altha reappeared into the hall and looked back at Malachai. “And God willing we stay that way,” she said. Of all the people inhabiting the mountains of the Dark Zone, Altha was one of the last of the people of Ravenna with ties to the Outside. Her grandparents had integrated into their communities many years before. Despite being raised all her life in Ravenna, she was taught all about the outside world. Even when Hell opened up and unleashed its wrath upon their people in the form of invasion, she remained as calm and compassionate as ever, trying to understand the Outsiders’ true motives and the ongoing stress that must have caused them to turn so aggressive against her people. All in all, Altha always would have preferred other possible solutions to this conflict without Delmar seeing fit to strike back at their enemies. But they were running out of time and everyone knew it. More and more Outsiders were pouring into the Dark Zone every day under Ramon Moreno’s influence, despite their borders having been closed. The game board was being set; one side was going to have to make a daring move sooner or later. Peace was simply no longer an option.

Malachai glanced back toward the other end of the corridor. He breathed very heavily, “I’m ready to do whatever it is he needs,” he said seriously to Altha, referring to Delmar. At first, she seemed to give Malachai a look of disapproval, but then she smiled and nodded her head as if to say, ‘All of Ravenna is behind you.’ Malachai bowed his head slightly to her. “Take care, Altha.” He turned and headed for the archway at the end of the hall which would take him to the zenith of the tower.

He always found it somewhat uncomfortable when climbing these steps. For years, his closest friend, Delmar, had been a much different person as he dwelled constantly on the devastating past and spent all his time ensuring that his people had a future ahead of them. At the peak of the tower, the map room, as they commonly referred to it, Delmar could be found most of the time, and there were times Malachai was worried that the stress was starting to go to his head.

Upon reaching the top of the final staircase, Malachai found himself staring out at an incredible view. The great stature of the tower provided a lookout point jutting outward from the structure and gave a clear view over the entire plateau. The sun was now peeking through the tree canopies of the mountain ranges in the east, and below, dozens of figures could be seen moving about all around the Citadel. To the right of the tower, the plateau sloped downward where it cradled a small, clear-blue lake. The sight from this man-made vista always gave even Malachai a great sense of wonder, but he quickly remembered why he was up here and shook it all off. Just behind him, positioned up a few more steps, was a large, curtained archway leading into the peak of the tower. Malachai climbed the steps and quietly moved the cloth hanging over the door frame, slowly making his way inside.

It was dimly lit inside, much like the rest of the great structure, with the exception of the light of the sun peering through the doorway. The room was quite small, and its walls were covered haphazardly with many hand-drawn maps, each seeming to portray a different region of the Dark Zone. In the center of the small chamber, a single man was standing over a table, staring down at another large map laid out before him. The map seemed to be unfinished in one of its corners, and the man was just gazing at it intently as if lost in deep thought. As Malachai approached him, he could see a strip of his hair grown down over the left side of his face. This he knew was meant to cover a scar he had received years ago when Ravenna was first attacked.

“Delmar?” Malachai stopped in his tracks and spoke out softly.

In response, Delmar shifted his glued attention right to Malachai, who now stood before him. Looking just past him at the sunlight penetrating the archway, he said, “Malachai. What time is it?”

Malachai made a quick glance at the doorway behind him. “After dawn,” he replied. “Have you been up all night?”

Delmar just took a deep breath. “No. Not exactly.” He stood up and walked over to his friend. “You have anything to report?”

Shaking his head, Malachai answered, “It’s been really quiet out there lately. A little too quiet.” He gave Delmar a serious look in the eyes. “Listen, we can’t hide behind these walls forever.”

Delmar seemed like he wanted to ignore his comment. He turned and looked back at the map. “We’ve been over this before, Malachai,” he said, the intensity growing in the atmosphere. “It’s not as simple as that. We’re talking about starting a war within our borders. We’re not soldiers,” he looked harshly at Malachai, “and we have no support.”

It was quiet for a moment. Malachai just shook his head in disbelief. “So how would you justify all that they’ve done to us? Are we just going to wait behind our walls until they overwhelm us?”

“We’re not ready yet, Malachai,” Delmar responded. “We’re vastly outnumbered right now; much of our people are still scattered throughout the mountains in hiding. We can’t risk revealing ourselves. I will not bring further harm to us.” He swallowed and lowered his head. “It’s best for now that we all remain hidden.”

“I’m not asking for open war, Delmar!” Malachai continued, moving closer. “Their scouting parties are starting to move deeper into our territories, eventually they’ll find us here. I say we let them come just a little closer. We can attack them in the night like we did before, but with full force. Kill them all swiftly, and we’ll inflict so much fear upon them that they won’t come anywhere near this place again-”

“Or the opposite, Malachai!” Delmar cut him off. “If we show them absolute hostility then they’ll unify and march right through us.”

Malachai couldn’t help but grin at his old friend’s comment. “They won’t be able to penetrate the walls of the Citadel,” he said confidently. “And besides, I was there with you when the valley was attacked, remember? We weren’t prepared and they knew it. They took advantage of our weakness. Sure their numbers may be growing but we’re much stronger now. If we don’t do something now, then our people here and out there will forever lose hope. We’re backed into a corner, Delmar.” He looked him directly in the eyes. “We must fight!”

The map room suddenly went silent and tense. Malachai felt that he might have gone too far insisting that they march to war. He was prepared to apologize for his words, but Delmar began laughing under his breath. Malachai was taken aback. “What’s so funny?”

Delmar put a hand on his shoulder. “Stick to your fighting skills, my friend,” he replied, “but there’s more than one way to fight a war.”

Malachai raised his eyebrows. This was a sudden shift in Delmar’s attitude. “You’ve already given commands?” He was starting to feel a tingle of excitement.

“Not exactly.” Delmar said back, “but I sent Matheus back out into the mountains to take care of something for me.”

Malachai could not help but feel a bit confused. “What did you tell him to do? And why couldn’t I be involved?”

Delmar put his hand up. “For now I need you here, Malachai. The rest is need to know for now.”

With that being said, Malachai was a little bit hurt that Delmar could not let one of his most trusted friends in on his plans. Nevertheless, Malachai knew better than to question him. Delmar had never let their people down yet. For now, however, Malachai was lost on what to do. Delmar seemed to have his mind made up. All that was left to do was wait patiently for his next command, if it ever came at all.

“Alright then,” Malachai nodded in compliance. “I’ll take my leave.” He turned and headed back for the doorway.

“Where are you going?” Delmar called after him.

“Down to the arena,” he replied a bit coldly. “I’d rather not grow too stale.”

Delmar shook his head. “Malachai, you should get some rest.”

As he lifted the cloth curtain to exit the map room, Malachai looked back at his trusted friend. “I’ll rest when this is over.” Then he was gone.

Delmar gave a soft sigh. His friend was right about one thing: time was running out. The enemy’s numbers were always increasing and their tactics were getting bolder. If he did not do something to raise his people’s hopes soon, he feared he would fail them all, and that was not on his agenda.