Take the Darkness...: Epic Fantasy Series (3 page)

Chapter 5

Grimm felt good. The moment he had realised that Seth had sacrificed himself to avoid this battle, he’d felt such a pit of shame inside. He wasn’t angry at Seth as he knew he’d done it more to protect these other ones in the Keep. The guards, the mercenaries, and above all Elizebetha... but still, he had put himself in the way of the blade, and now Grimm had redeemed himself. Not only that, the battle was still coming, and without Seth here, it would be up to him and the other Northmen to lead these scared sheep.

The soldiers of the Cold Death were running around like headless chickens, and it was all their commander Dagosh could do to keep them focused. They were Seth’s men, hearts and souls, and now that he was gone, so had the fight gone out of them. What had seemed a glorious battle against the odds now seemed like a slaughter, with them as the cattle. Also, there was no explaining to them what had happened. Pellosi didn’t believe in things like lands of the dead and creatures of power. They believed in gods of the harvest and gods of trade, but they had no time for magic or things of that ilk. So he’d just told everyone Seth had snuck off to gather reinforcements, and at least that had brought their spirits up a bit.

Dagosh confronted Grimm as they stood on the stone battlements looking at the thousand strong force of the Duchess, slowly marching up the field towards the Keep.

‘Why tell my men, Seth is getting reinforcements: he’s dead, clearly.’

Grimm grabbed the man’s shirtfront and pushed his own face close to the older soldier’s. ‘He’s not dead, he is getting reinforcements, so get control of your men and do your fucking job,’ he snarled.

‘What reinforcements is he getting, then? And when will they be here?’ Dagosh asked back.

‘He’s taken all the gold we got from Rosen and he’s gone to recruit mercenaries. I think he mentioned the Red Bastards.’

Goldie, Flint, Stone and himself had already devised this plan, and Goldie and the twins were now riding hard to try and do just what Grimm had claimed Seth was working on. They had slipped out of a secret passage Elizebetha had shown them and were now making haste to Pellota.

‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ Dagosh demanded.

It was a bad plan anyway, both men understood without giving the thought voice. The Red Bastards were not a mercenary troop Grimm would trust, but at least he knew they were probably located nearby. They tended to follow around armies like the Duke’s, just waiting to see which side of the fight would end up offering them something to join, or else looting the battlefield afterwards. They were more thieves than fighters. Grimm answered vaguely, not caring to discuss intentions or ill-planning. ‘I don’t know – bring it up with him when you see him next. Now, tell me about this.’ He said, pointing at the Duchess’s assembled army, glittering in the sunlight with rays of sun shining off of spears and polished armour.

‘They are out of arrow and scorpion shot, but close enough to show us their intentions. Clearly, they intend to attack at darkness and try to climb the walls,’ Dagosh said, focusing on the task at hand.

‘Do we have enough men to defend this place?’ Grimm asked.

‘We will have for a few days; we’ve got almost 300 men, so we’ll do a good job of holding the walls, but we’ll need to start preparing for fire arrows and all sorts.’

‘How many days before we’re fucked?’ Grimm asked.

‘We’ll be dead to the man in three days unless we get some sort of help,’ Dagosh replied sadly, his grand adventure fading before him.

Grimm just hoped that Goldie and the boys could muster something up in time. It was at least a day’s hard ride to Pellota, and who knew if the Red Bastards were even in the country.

The Duchess of Twin Plains sat in her husband’s leather-bound command chair, drinking fresh blood from a pewter goblet like it was fine wine. The body of one of her least favourite levies was slumped on the floor of the tent, a large cut bleeding from his neck as two of her more loyal guards bled the skinny boy’s life blood into one container after another. Soon he was dry and they had a few bowls and mugs filled with the precious blood. If they felt any distaste towards their current duties, it didn’t show on their stern cold faces. They had the same look as most of the Guild, younger and stronger than their years and a deadness to their eyes. Not that she remembered, but they had been two of the hundreds at the desert massacre and the two men thought nothing of this chore. The boy they’d killed was a nobody, some little farmer’s boy recruited to the levies, not likely to be missed, and easily counted into the coming battle.

As the warm blood swirled in her mouth, she felt able to think more clearly and the hunger she felt was starting to fade. It was such an irritation to have to do this and her husband was right that she wasn’t ready to call him back yet. She’d let the rift close back on his howling and clawing form, and resigned herself to doing it properly in a few days time, with the bitch Elizebetha on her knees as the first one to be sacrificed. Wiping the blood from her lips, she straightened her clothes and stood up. She needed to address the men. They had been told that the Duke was captured in order to fire them with rage, but now she had to show herself and inspire them, and also explain what they had just seen. At least a few hundred of them were the loyal Dark Guard, but some were just levies and would need coddling.

Black leather boots clicking with purpose, she stepped over the body of the dead farm boy in his pretty new uniform and walked out of the command tent. She was flanked by her two Dark Guards, and then another two and two until she marched with an honour guard of twelve. She stepped up onto the rough wooden stage that had been built by her husband: he’d loved giving speeches to the men, and she’d seen him do it many a time. She felt up to the task.

She had to win the hearts and souls of these men if they were going to fight for her, but she could see the anger in their eyes and faces, and knew that it wouldn’t be hard to inspire their bloodlust. She looked the part of a leader and had changed from her fine gown into a suit of tailored leather armour. It was all black and inlaid with gold finery which set off her long blonde hair.

She addressed the troops as they stood with the Black Rock Keep looming in the distance.

‘What have we just witnessed?’ She cried. ‘It’s hard to explain, but what we have seen is lies, treachery, and deceit. Our lord, my husband, offered them peace. He gave them a chance to retreat and hand over Elizebetha, who has stolen back her seat from our fine Lord Renton, who many of you knew. He offered them surrender, and as you saw, they sent down their Northman and he has taken our Lord back into that Keep where they now hold him hostage and prisoner.’ She pulled out a piece of paper with some writing on it ‘This was found on the field where he vanished.’ She read, ‘We have your Duke. Surrender by sundown or we’ll send you his head!’ The men shouted with anger.

‘I have no idea how they did it. All we saw was them both vanishing from the field, but it’s clear they have our beloved Luthor and we need to get him back. We will not offer them a second chance to slip away. We will not back down or be forced to surrender. We will take that Keep, win back our leader, and show them the mistake they made in crossing Twin Plains!’

The army of men shouted and screamed for her. She had them, and tonight she would send a huge force of them over that wall.

Chapter 6

Since Seth had first come charging through the rift from the beautiful sunshine into this land of cold and constant darkness, he’d not had a moment to look around it properly. Now he walked beside this tall strange woman who called herself Silver, and he looked for the first time at the land itself. It was much colder than what he’d experienced even in the deepest winters back home, but he still must have felt some warmth in his body from his sparring match with her because he felt the cold a lot less than when he’d first arrived. He could also see fairly clearly though the failing snow.

The land was far from dead, and it had its own strange type of life here, which was like that of the desert lands near the Black Rock Keep. Stunted black trees grew up from the ground, and the land was littered with tall black rocks and boulders which appeared from the snow. Even the ground seemed like hard-packed dirt, and his feet only sank a little in the light cover of white. The strangest thing of all was the light. He’d been here for at least half of a day, and the moon hadn’t moved at all. It hung in the sky, full and bright, casting a steady light on the land. Clearly, there was no sun at all, and he didn’t think there would be. If the moon never went down then the sun couldn’t rise. He knew that much.

To add to the strangeness was the fact that there wasn’t a single star in the sky. Navigating yourself here would be all but impossible. The moon hung dead in the sky and was also no use as a tool for navigation. Every mile they walked, it seemed to be stationed in the same point. He felt he could walk for days and it would always be hanging right above them. Seth felt the control Silver had over him like a leash around his neck. He could think clearly enough, but he knew that if he tried to break her will it would be painful, so he’d to play along, wait and see if he could escape. He might have helped her if she’d just asked, but he hated the idea of being someone’s puppet or sword hand.

‘Is the moon following us?’ He asked Silver as they walked along. She had drawn her large black sword and was swinging it in one hand, back and forth like a child with a toy.

‘She’s following me, not you. I can feel she’s a bit angry with me,’ she said.

‘Oh really, and why is that?’ He asked, trying not to find it funny, the way she talked about the moon like it was a real person.

‘I’m clothed and she knows it,’ she said.

He laughed. In truth, the woman was barely clothed. The entirety of her long legs, her arms, and most of her back were bare, the only part covered being the middle and bottom of her breasts, and a small swatch of fabric that hung at the front of her, but also left her lovely white arse bare. He was glad she was walking beside him and not in front. Goddess or not, he was still a soldier and would end up staring at her like a drunk at a tavern wench, which would probably end badly for him.

‘Feel free to dress as you like’ He said.

She made a hissing noise at him. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Men can’t be trusted. Already I can feel your lustful thoughts.’

‘Sorry about that,’ He said easily.

‘You can’t help it, you’re just a weak man – it’s all you think about. Anyway, the moon gives us strength, so it’s rude to not let her shine on you.’

‘The moonlight itself gives you strength?’He asked.

‘We are like plants and mother moon is the sun, earth, and water. She gives us all.’

‘That’s handy,’ He said, only half-listening. He was fucking starving and was seriously considering trying to eat some bark off one of those black trees. ‘Speaking of which, is there anything for me to eat here?’ He asked.

She stopped in her tracks and hissed at him again. ‘Eating is a sin! It corrupts the pure flesh.’

Her bright blue eyes were so sincere. He was thinking more and more that if she wasn’t a goddess then she may be a priestess: she spoke in the certain terms of a religious zealot.

‘Well, if I don’t eat I’ll die.’ He replied flatly.

‘Oh...’ she paused. ‘Really, I had forgotten about your North kind and your growing plants and your little cages full of animals to eat.’ She looked around the landscape as if searching for something for him to eat. She seemed amused by the concept. ‘When you earn it, I’ll let you feed on my blood, and that will sustain you.’ She said it as if that was the perfect solution.

‘I’m not drinking your blood like I’m some dead man,’ He said with disgust.

She just frowned at him. ‘You’ll do it, and soon you’ll want more and more, but first you must earn it. Now stop talking and be happy.’

He stopped thinking about it and he too drew his sword from across his back, and then started to swing it back and forth. She seemed to forgive him, and he was glad as she turned her face to him, blue eyes regarding him.

‘Now we’re going to meet my people, but before we get there, you need a lot of work. For a champion, you’re very weak and slow.’ She spoke as if to a child.

He knew he was one of the best sword fighters in all of the realms, and through the gifts of the Wolvern he was a lot stronger than most normal men. But he was like a child to her.

‘So we must train you as we go.’ She began to sing loudly as she walked with him. It was a song of longing and hunger, one of want and loneliness. The words were a language he didn’t know, and they sounded very different from Northern. Slowly, as she sang, he started seeing shapes in the distance rise up out of the snow. The human dead.

He’d wondered why he’d not seen any so far, given that this was meant to be their home, but seemingly they were laying here and asleep until they realised they weren’t alone. She continued to walk along with him as they clawed their way slowly up from their shallow snowy beds. Soon, there were tens and tens of them, rising to shaky feet, but once they had seen Seth a spark of life or hunger hit them, and they ran to him like a moth to a flame, howling in high-pitched voices of pain.

They were as he’d ever seen in the land of the living. Like the creature Minsetta had summoned against him. Sharp white teeth too long and many for their human mouths, eyes black and lifeless, with lanky tall bodies and ragged clothes, they looked dead, but filled with awful purpose. They came as best they could, some on damaged bodies from death, but many whole. Silver grinned at him. ‘I’ll help, but only a little.’

Seth let out a sigh of exasperation and launched himself at the howlers. He pushed aside all thoughts that these were once people and that he didn’t even knew whether he could kill them, and he fought. The first was dressed as a city guard, and he met his charge with a relaxed up-hand swing that cut through his jaw and sent him reeling back as he followed though with a deep leftward slash into another neck, almost severing the head before he pushed on. There were at least twenty of them, but well spaced apart. Seth cut though them with workman like efficiency. He was a reaper and they were like shafts of wheat to be collected. Silver yelled to him as he cut, directing him to take the heads, remove limbs, or watch his back.

As they came closer to the ridge and the snowy patch most had risen from, he got a shudder of actual fear. He’d kept himself under control until now, but when he saw the last group of ten rush him in a ragged, stinking, howling mass, he almost broke and ran. He swallowed his fear and shame, and shouting, ‘Bloodcrest’ he leapt into the fray. They were all around him in seconds. White dead hands clawing and scratching him, sharp teeth trying to sink into his flesh. He smashed one hard in the face with his sword butt, then thrust his sword fast behind him into the open mouth of another, he wished he had a shorter sword. Thrusting down, he pierced the top of one’s skull as its teeth sunk into his leg. It was a child of young years. Then they had him.

He toppled with pain as the weight of them pushed him down into the snow. Still, he fought, even on his back, as they kept coming at his throat and he thrust upward again and again. Then he felt it. A feeling he’d never felt before. A huge rush of rage and battle lust came into him. Try and kill him, touch his body would they. With a mighty effort Seth slashed left, and throwing his attacker aside, he engaged them again. He stood on one knee, the other soaked in blood, and fought, thrusting his sword blade like a madman into the nearest and then the next nearest, again and again. He didn’t realise he was screaming the whole time. At the end, he collapsed again and smashed his pommel into one face, which he hit at again and again, blood and bone flying and flying as he screamed until there was nothing but bloody snow and a disgusting mess. He came out of his haze to hear a soft female laughter.

Looking up from his blood-soaked victim and himself, he saw he was dripping with blood and viscera, and surrounded by near on thirty of the dead. Some in a line to that point where he’d begun fighting, but ten at least all around him. His leg throbbed, as did a cut on his arm and another on his forehead. Silver sat cross-legged in the snow, where she’d sat watching his life or death battle.

She clapped and smiled at him. ‘Well done, Seth. That was fun, and actually a little exciting.’ She stood up and walked over to him, and taking his blade, cut her wrist slightly. Her silver blood came to the surface, it looked like cold liquid metal and without a word she put it to his lips. With no thought, he let the liquid into his mouth and felt the life of it pulse through him. His wounds felt hot and closed in moments, the very skin knitting itself back together. His vigour and energy, which had been completely gone, came back to him, and he stood.

‘Fuck you. You said you’d help,’ he said.

‘I just did, champion, and you got to learn something about yourself,’ she said.

‘What’s that,’ he said.

‘The Sun fire is growing inside you, Seth, and it will protect itself if pushed too far.’