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Without the Darkness There Is No Light

by Riley Berg

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Chapter One

"And so It Ends"

I look at Jane.

Her face is white.

Damn.

"It's almost exactly the same," Jane whispers, confirming my assumptions.

The others look at each other, at a loss.

"So, it's a locating… spell?" Rogers asks.

"No," I answer, "it is a locating device, which makes use of magic in a spell-like manner. But yes, it is a locator." I sigh. "A locator that pointed to England," I glance at Jane, "while we were there. And then, when we came here, pointed here."

Thor straightens into a semi-defensive pose. Erik looks around nervously. Jane stares at me, silently begging for further explanation.

Why am I the one with answers? I prefer to sit in quiet corners, unnoticed.

"When you first showed us the anomalies, I thought perhaps Thor was the target. The Scandinavian Peninsula was favored by us in our earlier centuries." I ignore the choking noise coming from Stark. "But if the directional spikes in energy were pointing toward the target, it stands to reason that it is not Thor, whose location was elsewhere, but you, Erik, or even me that is the target. I could be a coincidence that a different target happened to be in England when we were, and happened to move in the same direction we did by the time the locator was used again, but that would be a dangerous assumption to make."

"So, this thing that is searching for… you guys is coming here?"

"When will they be here?"

"Who would be looking for you?"

"Can we determine anything from the kind of tech they have?"

I smile at Stark. He asked a valuable question.

"Yes," I admit, "we can."

He looks at me expectantly. I turn to Thor instead.

"It means that I must take leave of your presence for a time."

Dumbfounded by my declaration, Thor lets me extend to tiptoe and kiss him on the cheek. It is not until I have moved to Jane, placing a kiss on her furrowed forehead, that Thor is finally able to speak.

"You are not going without me."

I sigh as I make my way toward Erik.

"Yes, I am, Thor."

My tone is final. But Thor is disobedient.

"No, you're not."

I pull Erik into a hug, trying to reassure him with my touch and my expression as I pull away. Everything will be alright. He will be perfectly safe. He stares back at me uncertainly.

Thor catches my arm as I turn toward Stark.

"Ástriðr."

I look at him pleadingly, willing him to remain silent.

"I lost you once. I do not know what I did to drive you away, Sister, but I will not let you leave me in such a manner again." He speaks in the tongue of the Asgardians.

We ignore the looks of curiosity and confusion surrounding us.

"My departure from Asgard was out of your control, Thor," I reassure him for the one-hundred-sixteenth time. "But if what I suspect is true, I have no way of determining whether I go to meet friend or foe. And if it is a foe, it could be a formidable one. In any case, it is my meeting or my battle, not yours."

"You are my sister, Ástriðr. Your battles are my battles."

I shake my head. "I will not let the darkness consume you."

My answer is not what he expects. He remains silent, uncomprehending and shocked, as I turn again to Stark.

"Mr. Stark—"

"Tony, please."

I smile. "Tony. I thank you for your hospitality, but I am afraid I must depart." I glance at Thor. "If events are such that I can return, I would appreciate a standing invitation, if only to assure my brother that I continue to breathe."

Tony looks at me, a trace of shock in his eyes, though I am not sure which aspect of my request he is shocked by.

"Yes, of course."

"Ástriðr."

I sigh for what feels like the twentieth time today. "You said you wished I had made a dramatic exit instead of sneaking off at night. You have your wish."

Thor glances at his friends. I do not know what he sees there, but he apparently feels free to continue.

"I said that because if you had tried to leave in such a manner I could have stopped you."

"You are not going to stop me."

"No. I am not."

"You are not?"

"No. I am coming with you. And you will allow anyone who wishes to join us to do so. If you go to face a threat, I will be by your side."

"This threat you speak of," interrupts Rogers, "is it a threat to Earth?"

I turn to the captain. "I do not know. But I do not think so."

"I will go." He turns to Banner, who snuck in quietly sometime during the course of our experiment. "You can stand down."

Bruce does not argue. In fact, he looks relieved and leaves the room immediately. I get the impression he did not want to join us at all. I wonder why he did.

"I'll go," volunteers Tony.

Romanoff and Barton exchange glances and depart without announcement.

"There, you have some companions on your quest," Thor concludes, satisfied.

I smile sadly. I used to travel with six companions. I enjoyed those days.

"Tony and—if you will allow me—" I direct that at Rogers, "Steve are poor replacements for the five we used to 'quest' with."

Thor returns my sad smile, his eyes glazing over for a moment. Then he shrugs off his contemplation and smiles at me.

"They are fun in their own way."

"I suppose I will find out soon enough. Jane, would you please take Erik to our—your quarters."

I slump, unladylike, into the chair Erik vacated. Staring at the screen and the data listed to the side, I do several silent calculations.

"I will be honest with you all," I say, swiveling the chair toward my two new and one old companions. "I do not know much about what to expect from here, but I will share with you what I suspect."

I look to Steve Rogers: Captain America, whom I noticed took command of his fellow Avengers, however subtly. He is obviously their leader, even if it is Tony who houses them. Thor is a prince, and—I have little doubt—capable of defeating any one of them, but his authority is in a different world, and he always had respect for good fighters, as long as they strove to be the best they could be, whatever their species and ability.

"The energy readings of from a location device—an old, inefficient location device. But his or her or its or their travel was not detected by any of Jane's equipment, or displayed in the other equipment databases that Jane has access to."

"So they're… human?"

I shake my head. "I find that improbable. If it was someone who had been on T—Earth for some time, they would have started in England, I should think, or perhaps here."

"If they aren't from Earth, how'd they get here? Without evidence?" Tony joins the discussion.

I shrug. (I am feeling unladylike today.) "The same way most do: by spacecraft." Steve and Tony exchange glances. "The Bifrost is a relatively unique mode of travel. Most civilizations are not advanced enough, or rich enough, or otherwise capable of establishing such an instrument. Most peoples that are advanced enough to venture beyond their home planet do so in the mundane spacecraft your 'science-fiction' lauds. This may be an advantage to us."

I look at the screens.

"Judging by the likely age of the locating technology, and the length of time it took to travel from the first location to the second, I suspect that the spacecraft is not designed for inner-atmospheric travel beyond take-off and landing, or it is too gaudy a ship to risk using, for fear of detection.

"Such crafts often have a smaller vessel, in the way your old sailing ships had a row boat. Its use was similar: go where the big ship cannot. If my calculations are correct, it travels at approximately one-hundred kilometers per hour and has an autopilot feature. But I do not know how long it will last without refueling or recharging. I doubt it will take them across the ocean."

"Which means?"

"They have no way of refueling, for Earth does not yet accommodate such craft, and recharge would require reuniting with the spacecraft, which would have to be done multiple times during the journey, which is, of course, impossible. Which leaves two options: use the spacecraft despite whatever complications prevented its use initially, or learn how the local populace travels and do that—which also presents its own problems."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that we probably have time before they arrive, but also that we do not have means of calculating their—how do you say?—estimated time of arrival."

There is a long moment of silence as we all stare at the displays as if answers might suddenly occur to us if we look long enough.

"You said we can determine something from the kind of tech they have," Tony finally reminds me. "I assume you were not thinking of the time-related discussion, because whatever thought crossed your mind, you were determined to leave, immediately and alone."

I smile. How astute of him. I think we could be friends. I believe, in fact, that we could be quite close to best friends. Perhaps my best-friend-in-the-world. (The position of best-friend-in-the-universe is already filled.)

"The technology is, I suspect, of Darkling origin. I, therefore, determined that I am the likeliest target, and wished to… go where there would be no collateral damage."

Even Thor looks confused, and I note that both Steve and Tony notice this.

Tony hesitates to question me. Thor remains silent. He is still uncertain where he stands, so far as his right to pry into my secrets is concerned.

Steve summons the courage to ask. "What makes you think they are "Darklings," what is a Darkling, and why would they be after you?"

I pull in a deep breath slowly through my nose and push it back out in a swift exhalation.

"The similarity in the pattern."

I walk to the computers, pushing a few buttons until the reading of my experiment shows next to the larger energy readings detected in Europe.

"You can see the similarities. If you were to look at them closely, you would see that there are minor differences. Each instance will be different, even when performed by the same instrument or person, but there will be a pattern and a limit to the variations. Those two," I point to the map of the world, with its too elongated starburst, "upon closer inspection, would be confirmed to be two separate events from the same source, and mine," I gesture, perhaps unnecessarily, to the display of my experiment, "would be evaluated as a similar spell, but from a different source."

An unspoken "so?" hangs in the air.

"But if I were to teach, say, you," I point to Tony, "how to do this… spell, your display, while perhaps maintaining the generic outline of an… explosion with a trailing at one end, would be far less similar to mine or theirs than mine is to theirs."

"Why?"

"Because you are human. Your body would facilitate magic differently than mine, leaving a different signature." I sigh. "I suppose I can compare it to D.N.A. Your D.N.A. when looked at broadly, would demonstrate that you are a sentient being, and on that level may not look very different from mine. But upon closer inspection, our specific species could be determined and differentiated, and upon even further analysis, you could be differentiated from anyone else, even of your own species.

"It is like that. I can tell that the magic's source—the magic within the technology they are using—is Darkling. It will have been… programmed, for lack of a better word, long ago. They creator is likely dead. Therefore, it could, technically, be anyone who is using it, but I still believe it is most likely a Darkling."

"So, you're a… Darkling?" Steve questions tentatively.

Thor scoffs.

"Yes."

Thor's scoff turns to a choke. "What?"

Tony looks at me in surprise. "Your brother doesn't know what you are?"

I notice a shadow of suspicion on Steve's face, but I ignore the all-too-familiar expression.

I smile a crooked smile. "My identity was… guarded on Asgard. Even Thor was not privy to certain facts."

"What, exactly, is a Darkling?" Steve asks, eyes narrowed.

"I cannot tell you exactly," I begin, "any more than I can tell you exactly what a human is. But if it will make more you more comfortable, I will tell you something about them."

Steve nods.

Thor sits.

Tony leans against the table.

"'Darkling' is an informal term, a translation into English of a word we use to shorten our name. We are Klaa'killa'shaan," I say for Thor's benefit—perhaps he has heard the term— "or, translated, the Children of Darkness."

Steve looks at me warily.

"Our people are not dissimilar to the Æsir and Asyniur—to the Asgardians in strength, ability, resistance, lifespan, and such. Our technological abilities are also similar, but not confined to healing and travel, so if you were to travel to the Dark Planet, you would see something more futuristic than old fashioned like you would if you traveled to Asgard." I do not know if either of the two has gone to Asgard. "But there are some who still practice magic, as well."

"And you are one of those?"

I nod. "But… I do not like using it." It is not true, but I do not have the time or desire to explain why I should not use it. "I would not have done anything, even so small as my experiment, except that I felt I had to confirm or dismiss my suspicions in order to make the best choice for…" Jane's protection.

"What can we expect from a… Darkling?"

"As I alluded, they are strong. Have either of you sparred with Thor?" They nod. "It would be similar, except it would be a real fight, not a sparring match. As for weapons. They tend to have an age's variety of them. Swords or other old-fashioned weapons. Guns. More advanced shooters, ones that are designed to work without oxygen or gravity—ones only dreamed of in your science fiction. It depends on the person, really."

"What might he want with you?"

I look at Steve, despairing.

"Either to drag me back or to kill me," I answer honestly. "I am afraid I cannot envision any scenarios in-between. And even if they have no hostility toward me, I have no intention to go back with them, so things may get… ugly either way."

"Why are you call the Children of Darkness?" Tony finally asks.

I sigh. "That is a long tale for another time. But, if you are worried about the whole 'Darkness' aspect, they are as a whole no more evil—for I know humans give darkness negative meanings—than the humans are as a whole. There are both good and bad among them, like most races."

This seems to reassure them a bit. Of course, nothing is quite so simple. But I hope my explanation will both suffice and not lead them astray.

After another long pause, Steve speaks, this time in a commanding tone. "We should gear up and get out of here, to avoid collateral damage if it comes to a fight. Let's get somewhere less densely populated—unpopulated if possible. If they're using a locator, they'll find you wherever you go.

"We can keep monitoring for energy outputs, and tell Romanoff and Barton to be on alert in case these Darklings come here."

Tony nods and leaves the room, perhaps to relay Steve's orders or to ready himself. I brought little, but I might as well pack it, so I go to do so, Thor trailing behind like a(n unnecessary) bodyguard.

As I make my way toward the exit, bag in hand, I notice Erik's worry.

"Do not fret," I try to reassure. "We will be fine."

He nods uncertainly.

"We all have survived big messes before. And you have little idea how tough Thor is," I smile.

Erik is reassured a little, but he has never seen me in a fight, or talk my way out of one, before. I pull him into a hug. We have become good friends despite my attempts to remain indifferent.

"Ready?"

I look up to see Steve and Tony waiting in the open elevator. Thor joins them, his lips thoroughly kissed goodbye by Jane. I run, entering the elevator just in time for the doors to begin closing.

The elevator takes us to the floor where their aircraft is housed, and I situate myself in a seat across from Thor as Steve and Tony take the pilot and co-pilot seats.

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"A river of molasses," I muse aloud, contemplating the rate at which time seems to be flowing while we wait for the Darklings.

I do not know exactly where we are, but there is no one nearby. Woods surround the small grass-covered dale in which we camp. We have been here for a few short hours, but it already feels like days. During our journey, the third swell of energy was detected in New York, pointing toward our location. The Darklings must have continued following it, for some hours later, just a few moments ago, the fourth burst of energy that pointed toward our current location was also detected. If Tony's calculations of their speed are correct, they will meet us approximately at sunset.

The sun has sunk below the horizon, but twilight has yet to fade when we hear rustling nearby. The three men that accompany me jump to their feet, Thor calling Mjølnir, Steve picking up his shield, and Tony calling his Iron Man suit from its convenient carrying case.

By the time the intruder clears the trees, all three are ready for battle.

But the man walking across the clearing is not whom I expected.

"Mar'kwa?" I question my eyes in disbelief.

Mar'kwa stops at the edge of our camp and turns to me with a cold glare. I feel a shiver run down my spine. He wears the uniform of the Protector, a position he inherited from his father before I was born. And yet here he is on Terra, far away from the Planet Beneath the Black Sun, wearing the paraphernalia of the Protector as if he were home fulfilling his duties. It is a mockery, I conclude indignantly.

"So the little traitoress dares to show her face," he comments, his voice dripping with a disdain I have never before heard him use.

The pendant of my necklace warms my skin. He speaks blasphemy, I silently translate its reaction.

"Though not your true one. Your Asyniur disguise is disgusting."

I stand straighter. What is wrong with Mar'kwa? Abandoning his post, staring at me icily, calling me a traitor with sureness and contempt. Before I left, there were some rumors floating about that I was, or would become, a traitor. I believe that is why Mother sent me away; to protect me from our people's uncertainty until such a time as I could choose what to become and show them who I truly was. But Mar'kwa is my kin. He should not condemn me for a crime I have yet to commit.

I take a deep breath. "What do you want, Mar'kwa?" I let my tone remain even, disguising the tumult of emotions inside me. It has been centuries since I last spoke in the Dark Tongue, but it comes naturally. It is sweet and smooth like honey and I now realize how much I regret its absence.

"The Artifact," he replies concisely.

I feel my eyes grow wide, their brows rising. "You what?"

Something is wrong. Something beyond the obvious. Mar'kwa knows better than to make the request he is making.

"I wish to return the Artifact to its rightful place. With the queen."

I tilt my head at him and bite my tongue to keep from replying in any number of ways.

"The Artifact," as he calls it, "is not something one simply takes," I remind him.

"That portion of the legend is obviously less than accurate. You have it," he concludes as if that explains everything.

He thinks I took it? I scoff inwardly at the idea. But he seems convinced that I am not the Artifact's—the Agent of Darkness's—rightful Keeper, that he can somehow take it from me, and that it will obediently take my younger sister, who sits on the throne in my stead, as its new Keeper. But no one can make that decision except the Darkness itself.

My sister was foolish to admit she did not have possession of the Darkness. But what errors led to this encounter between Mar'kwa and I are currently of no consequence. What is done is done, and I must contend with the here and now.

"What do you intend?" I ask this time.

"To give you a traitor's punishment," he replies evenly, "and to bring the Artifact back to Her Majesty."

Her Highness, I silently correct, surprised at my possessiveness over the crown I was never sure I wanted.

But I have more important matters to think on. A traitor's punishment is death. Mar'kwa intends to kill me. Murder, the Darkness whispers in my mind, warming against my skin once more.

I mentally shake my head. Mar'kwa is a prince of rich heritage. He is privileged to understand the Darkness as most others are not. As my mother's Bonded, he should understand that his implications and assumptions are false. Has someone poisoned his mind?

I notice that Thor has taken a defensive stance. A glance confirms that storm clouds are gathering overhead. He knows what a traitor's punishment is, it being the same in Asgard. I know him well enough to see a trace of doubt in the confusion and determination, but I am grateful for his allegiance.

Mar'kwa glances at my companions. "Can they understand me?" He knows human technology is far behind that which he has access too, but the display before him makes him wonder if they have translator implants after all.

"I can," Thor replies in the All-Tongue.

The wind rips my hair out of the loosely held bun and whips my dress around me. I do not shiver. I was born to the cold and I am at one with it.

Mar'kwa stares at me for a moment before turning to Thor and requesting translation. Mar'kwa would not dirty his tongue by learning a petty human language, but Thor has studied the All-Tongue sufficiently to both understand and be understood.

Thor nods his head and Mar'kwa addresses my three companions.

"I apologize, sirs," he says with something close to sincerity, "but this matter does not involve you. I see that you are all surprised to learn about this young woman's crimes, and, therefore, I do not implicate you in them. You are free to leave without my punishment, but she," he turns his icy glare to my once more, "must die."

Without translating Mar'kwa's last two words, Thor steps in front of me defensively, Mjølnir at the ready.

"Thor, no," I order with surprising calm, placing a hand on his shoulder. The others had begun to follow his example.

Mar'kwa smirks. "I had heard the sons of Odin were nothing to praise. I see they were right. Foolishly guarding a traitor from her rightful punishment. You don't know what is going on, do you? No one ever told you, did they?"

Thor lowers Mjølnir slowly, glancing at me, his doubt more defined on his face now. I shake my head in dismissal. Now is not the time for the revelation of secrets.

I move forward, walking past Thor and to Mar'kwa. Mar'kwa is the greatest warrior of my people, now that his father is dead. I cannot outfight him. I have also concluded that I will not convince him of my innocence or the error of his thinking before he strikes the fatal blow.

The only remaining option is to die.

I stand before Mar'kwa, accepting.

"I see you plead guilty," he sneers in a very un-Mar'kwa-like manner.

Slowly, he withdraws a dagger. It is beautifully crafted and deadly sharp. It is an heirloom from his father, one-half of a dagger-sword pair that was forged millennia ago.

My three companions, disobeying my unspoken orders to stand down, converge on my executioner. He dodges Thor, back kicks Steve, sending him across the clearing, and lands a fist on Tony's face. The smell of blood—presumably Tony's from a bloody nose—registers in my mind, but then Mar'kwa moves swiftly toward me, and—

The pain is excruciating. And then it is gone. I stare at the dagger hilt pressed against my flesh. I feel four sets of eyes staring at me, three in perplexed shock, one in victory. Dark blood seeps from the wound. I watch in horror as the black pendant hanging from my necklace slowly floats upward. In realization, I turn my head to Mar'kwa. He has a smug look of satisfaction on his face as he watches the small black object intently.

But it is not my life I fear for; it is his.

Silently, I beg the Darkness to spare Mar'kwa. A tear slips down my cheek, but my sobbing is trapped in my throat. I plead. I reason. I bribe. Mar'kwa does not need to die; he is not in control of his actions, I try to convince it.

I look on in confusion as the Agent of Darkness neither executes Mar'kwa nor settles back to my chest. Instead, it continues floating upward, pulling the necklace over my head and disappearing into the storm clouds above.

I look at Mar'kwa in disbelief. He was right. I am unworthy. The Darkness has left me. And I must die.

With an arrogant and satisfied, "I was right," Mar'kwa leaves me to die among friends.

Although I said so myself, as soon as Mar'kwa spoke those words, I knew we were wrong. He was not saying that he was right and I was wrong, but that the Darkness was wrong, and I was an unfortunate casualty of war: an ignorant girl, corrupted by the enemy, and used as a sacrifice.

But the Agent of Darkness is never wrong.

"Thor," I gasp, staring at his horrified face, "call Gaea."

He looks at me in confusion and worry as I cough up more blood.

"Say 'Gaea,'" I try to explain. "She'll come. She… knows what... to do."

My sight begins to distort and I close my eyes in fear. My hearing soon fades, and then all the world is falling up. Blackness. Silence. Weightlessness.