Through the Darkest Night

By Patrick M. Fitzgerald

Aster leaned into the cold stone sill and gazed out the window. The night sky was brushed with the haze of winter clouds, shrouding the stars to a ghostly hue and cloaking the evening star. No moon swam behind them. In the pale light, Aster could see the orchard on the hillside and the mist rising from the lake below to cover it.

She thought of brighter days, when she had watched Desmond tending to those trees, smiling up at her as he wiped his glistening brow.

Her father grudgingly accepted her betrothal to a farmer, but Desmond’s enlistment came with an uncertainty that her father could not accept. They could now meet only in secret.

Desmond had conspired to meet her at the lake one last time before leaving for the battlefield. Aster’s love for him meant embracing his mortality, along with the dread that this meeting could be their last.

A light flashed in the orchard and her heart leapt. She clutched the brass candlestick holder tighter and held it aloft, high enough to be seen through the trees below. She passed her free hand before the light once, twice, three times. And held her breath in anticipation.

The light below echoed her signal. She exhaled, and billowing vapor gave form to her breath. Throwing her shawl around her shoulders, she ran from the room.

The frosty stone steps chilled her feet through the thin soles of her velvet slippers. Aster cursed herself for a fool that she hadn’t dressed more sensibly. She couldn’t bear to turn back now, with so little time left to them.

The wind whipped through her hair as she slipped out the side gate. She reached to shield the flickering candle, but the flame died quickly. She found herself in the darkness of the night and despaired.

Then came the dim flicker of Desmond’s lantern in the distance. If she kept it in her sight, would it be enough to guide her? She stepped briskly along the narrow path, her feet growing wet and cold with the evening’s dew. His light in the distance slipped farther away, now and again obscured by the maze of trees. Each time she lost sight of it, her heart dropped; each time it returned, she rejoiced.

And then it was gone. She turned about in a panic. Nothing but darkness. She was too far from the castle to return and had lost the light that pointed the way.

Aster knelt and pressed her hands to her tear-filled eyes. If they’d never see Desmond again, what use were they but for weeping?

The tears were as bitter as those she wept after her mother’s funeral. In the sleepless nights that followed, Desmond’s embrace had been her only comfort. The memory filled her heart with warmth. She held her chest. Could this warmth grow to a flame to light her way?

Aster stood slowly, casting her eyes toward the horizon. Desmond would be waiting for her in that direction.

She stepped forward, trusting her heart to guide her steps.

This is the trail of our love. Why should I be afraid? Aster strode along the narrow way. In her mind’s eye, she saw each tree as the path twisted among them.

She sighed when she saw the lantern below, its light rippling across the lake. Picking up her pace, Aster wrapped her shawl tighter against the wind. The light below flickered, sputtered, and then died in the night. It didn’t matter. She had seen enough that she could find the way by heart. Aster walked with confidence, then broke into a run. I won’t waste a second more.

She slid on the mud as the lake loomed before her.

The hands that pulled her back were so gentle that it was almost a caress. “More interested in a swim than my company?”

“An icy swim sounded nice.” Aster spun with a laugh, slipping herself into the solid shelter of his arms. “But I suppose I’ll join you now.”

“Now is all we have.” Desmond’s voice was liquid in the darkness.

Aster lowered herself with him on the grassy bank and clutched his tabard. “Promise me you will return.”

“Dear, please.” Desmond took her hand. “I won’t make a promise I might be unable to keep.”

“Then don’t leave.” She pressed her face against his shoulder as her eyes filled with tears.

“I have an oath to uphold.” His gentle hand stroked her hair like a breeze.

She looked up, searching his face in the darkness. “What does your honor matter if you lose your life?”

“My honor is all I have.” Desmond pulled Aster close. “What would I be without it?”

“You’d still be my beloved.” Aster bit her lip and pulled away. “Do I mean so little to you?”

“Your love means everything to me.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Too much to let it lead me to desertion.”

She gripped him tight. “We could run together.”

“I wouldn’t bring you such disgrace.” He sighed deeply. “The thought of casting our love into such darkness…”

As Desmond turned to the lake, she studied every inch of his tear-stained face.

“I will see you again,” she whispered as she wrapped her shawl around his waist. “Take this to remember my promise.”

“Perhaps I will survive.” A smile crept across his lips. “If only to preserve your honesty.”

Desmond cut a strip from his verdant tabard. He made a knot like a clover leaf on her finger, sealing it with a kiss. “Let this hold you as I have through the coming months.”

With a final embrace, their hands slipped from each other as he slowly walked away.

Watching him disappear into the fog, Aster wept in apprehension of the long months looming ahead.

She caressed the ring and it filled her with warmth.

The light of their love would guide her through this darkest night.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Patrick M. Fitzgerald writes speculative fiction and suspense from his home in Missouri. Inspired by the epic science fiction of Isaac Asimov and Frank Herbert, he creates thought-provoking tales of new worlds and their unique denizens. His work has been anthologized in Bingeworthy and Warriors Against the Storm. Visit his website to learn more about the universe of Z Karr: Peacekeeper.

---

More Stories | Author Website