Wilem returned to his tent not long before what would normally have been sunrise. Just as there hadn’t been for the last five days, there would be no sunrise, today, however–a fact that, with each passing day, made Wilem more and more uneasy. Wilem’s unease wasn’t just caused by the unnaturally persistent darkness–which was bad enough by itself–but also by what suspicions he had about it. Some of those suspicions had already been confirmed by the spontaneous magical awakenings of Stevan and Robert, which, though they would have eventually happened, anyway, seemed to have been hastened by some external force. Was that external force what Wilem thought it was? A sudden heightening of the world’s natural magical field? If it was, and if that heightening coincided with the advent of the endless night which had taken hold, the implications were disturbing, indeed.
Sister Niela was waiting for Wilem when he reached his tent. She was sitting on one of his folding camp chairs, and had brought an earthenware jug and two wooden cups with her. She smiled at Wilem as he stepped inside and settled onto the only other available seat–his cot. “Time for that drink, already?” Wilem asked.
“A lot of people are going to die, tomorrow,” Niela said. “Maybe even us. I didn’t want to waste any more time.” She popped the cork from the jug and filled the two cups, handing one to Wilem.
Wilem looked at the cup, and was surprised to see that what Niela had filled it with was what the country folk called liquid lightning. “Where in Hel’s name did you get this?” he asked.
“Now, now, Wilem,” Niela scolded playfully, “let’s not swear. I bought it off one of the soldiers.”
“Have you ever had any of this before?”
“No, but I’ve heard amazing things about it. And don’t worry. If it makes us too drunk, I can heal both of us.” She took a swallow from her cup, then coughed. “I think.”
Wilem took a drink of his own. The liquor was harsh, but also surprisingly good. He looked at Niela and shook his head. “You really go all out when you decide to break an oath, don’t you?”
“And why shouldn’t I? This could be our last night this side of the grave.” Her smile grew more mischievous, and, even in the darkness, her eyes seemed to twinkle. “I intend to enjoy it to the fullest.”
Wilem cleared his throat and looked away, his cheeks growing hot. Niela chuckled and reached out to him, placing her hand over his. “Don’t be shy, Wilem,” she said. “No one but us will care what happens here, tonight. Not even the Gods Above.” Wilem looked back up at her, and when he did, her brow creased in a slight frown. “You’re not afraid you’ll regret breaking your oath with me, are you?”
Wilem smiled. “Not at all, Niela,” he said. “It’s just that, well, you’ll be the first woman I’ve ever been with, and that makes me a little nervous.”
Niela looked at him for a moment, then laughed. “That’s all right,” she said. “You’ll be the first man I’ve ever been with!”
“And you don’t think it’s weird, sleeping with someone you’ve known since he was a boy?”
“You aren’t a boy anymore, Wilem. You’re a man. And a very handsome one at that.”
Wilem smirked. “Even though I’m bald?”
Niela grinned. “That’s the best part,” she said, taking another drink. She didn’t cough as hard, this time, and the twinkle in her eyes seemed to grow brighter.
Both of them were on the cot not long after, their drinks forgotten as they discovered other, more pleasant things. Afterward, as they held each other, enjoying the feeling of being in each other’s arms, Wilem said, “I’m afraid, Niela.”
“I know,” Niela said. “So am I. This darkness is stirring forces the world hasn’t seen in a very long time. That’s why so few of the Order are here. Those who didn’t come are waiting and watching, hoping against hope that, whatever the night brings, they’ll be able to contain it.”
“The Nightslayer will come,” Wilem said. “I’ve sensed his return to the world. Surely he will be able to do something.”
“He’ll be able to do much. There’s no doubting that. But will he do enough?”
“What do you mean?” Wilem asked, though he was sure he already knew.
“The Unnamed Prophecy,” Niela said. “You know it as well as I do. You know it mentions the darkness, and the return of the gods. You know it speaks of the growing chaos we both feel, and how only the one who holds the Seven Points of Night can bring rein to it. Is the Nightslayer the one who holds the Seven Points?”
“I don’t know,” Wilem said.
“Neither do I. No one does. No one even knows what the Seven Points of Night are.” She was quiet for a time, then said, “Wilem, why haven’t we ever shared the Unnamed Prophecy with anyone? Maybe, if we had, one of them could have given us the answers about its meaning. Were we that afraid of admitting our own ignorance?”
“I don’t know, Niela,” Wilem said. “The Unnamed Prophecy has always been the most unsettling piece of lore known to us, and not just because of our lack of understanding. After all, its fulfillment could mean the end of the world.”
“Of all worlds,” Niela said.
“Yes.”
“Hold me, Wilem.”
Wilem pulled her in closer, and he felt her own embrace grow tighter in return. Niela felt good in his arms, and he never wanted her anywhere else. A sudden stab of anger passed through him. Was this the gift the Gods Above had given him? The chance to sleep with the woman of his dreams on the eve of his own death? None of this is their fault, Wilem thought. Not even if they actually exist.
“Are you all right?” Niela asked.
Wilem met her eyes with his. “As long as you’re with me, I will be,” he said.
“I’ll never leave your side,” Niela said. “Not if we die, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now.”
They kissed. “Thank you for coming to my tent to share a drink with me,” Wilem said when their lips finally parted.
Niela smiled, her eyes once again twinkling. “Thank you for letting me share the comfort of your bed.”
Wilem chuckled. “It’s not a bed, silly woman,” he said. “It’s a cot, and it’s not very comfortable at all.”
Niela giggled. “Silly, am I?” she asked.
Wilem grinned. “Only in the best possible way.”
They made love, again–to Wilem’s surprise, it was better the second time, even if they were confined to his less than comfortable cot–then fell asleep in each other’s arms. Outside, the new day–such as it was–had dawned, and both of them knew that the battle would break soon. Until it did, however, nothing mattered but the time they had, and in his sleep, Wilem smiled.
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