The Shadow of Death: The Conquering Darkness

by Lucas Hault

  “She is the one accused of sacrificing small children for her evil act”, said a man of thirty. A golden-haired, average height figure, he along with the other citizens had presented a woman into the President’s custody.

  “Do you deny these allegations?” asked Sean Maddox, the President of Syneria. An elderly man, red-faced and choleric, he resembled the same genetic hair and eyes like his royal house, and was dressed in his elegant frock coat with a small emblem of the nation attached to its breast pocket. He stood facing his people in the big Royal Palace of Hustlecitis. It was the time before the partition, and no North-Eastern nation existed.

  She remained silent. Dressed in a fitting red gown, the gorgeous woman of twenty-nine, with long caramel hair and alluring amber eyes, she was but beautiful, regardless of the allegations upon her. She never resembled the look of a witch or any evil, not a bit; but her pointed nose and smooth skin made her irresistible. Her face and some cleavage could get her anything or anyone.

  Sean Maddox asked her for a second time, but she spoke nothing.

  “The allegations are all true, My Lord!” said one of the women wiping her tears. A brunette in perhaps her early thirties, she had lost her child in the woman’s evil practice and she demanded no less than a death penalty.

  “I ask you for the last time Cassandra. Do you deny this?” he asked irritatingly, but it least affected her. She could not help with her smile, a devilish one though, which shocked everyone around, including Sean Maddox.

  She spoke nothing, not a word, as if she never feared anything. She seemed ready to accept any possible outcome.

  “I Sean of the House Maddox, the President of the Country, the Dictator of the State and the Law of the Nation, sentence you to die for the charge of murdering innocent children for your own selfish will”. The command was passed, and Cassandra Frost was taken to the large pit in the midst of the large terrain, which laid next to the big entrance gate.

  Cassandra walked very slowly and circumspectly, and there was something indescribably guilty and furtive in her whole appearance. The preparations for the execution had been done beforehand, and everything stood ready. The guards took her to the logs placed on the large golden pit and tied her against one of the vertical ones. It was further surrounded by other logs of wood and haste, and there she stood, tied and helpless. The look on her face did surprise everyone, as there was not a single mark of guilt or fear, but instead, her resemblance was bold and glorious.

  Sean could not bear those expressions as it annoyed him furthermore. He waved at the guards and finally one of them moved to the spot with a burning torch in his hand, and as per the command, lit the haste and the wooden logs. It took less than a moment for the fire to wrap it up, burning everything vigorously. The logs, the haste and the accused all were covered in fire, but shockingly there was no sound of groan or cry, not even once, but a little laughter followed. Everyone believed her to be sick, and stood surrounding the pit, watching her burn. Many people in the land had described her as beautiful, though her actions had always attracted fear rather than any adoration.

  The flames were at its highest, covering the pit, and after some moments, slowly began to lower and lower, and at an instance ceased. The logs, the haste and everything were burnt to ashes, but to everyone’s astonishment, the long vertical log against which she had been tied remained in its initial state, with absolutely no damage. It remained unburnt, and there was no sign of her. Some believed her to be lying in ashes, while the others had absolutely no answer to this event. This single incident had turned the world upside down. It was that day when the theories of her rising up with the dark, smokes arouse.

  Sean Maddox could hardly sleep that night. The image of Cassandra Frost draped in fire flashed before his eyes all the time. He could perceive absolutely nothing. It disturbed him so very much that he decided to spend that night alone, in a different chamber. Leaving his wife in their private room, the man proceeded to a separate chamber which was located at the far end of the corridor. The chamber was spacious, fully tiled and well-furnished, with a half moon peeping between the drapes in the large balcony. The cabalistic scene never slipped-off his mind, but disturbed his senses all the time. He tried to get over it, lying over his big royal bed, but unfortunately could get no sleep. He moved towards the small wooden table before the large balcony, emptying the big jars of wine. He gulped all of it, before returning to bed. His struggle continued for some time, and soon he was around the virtual land, drowned deep into his sleep. But suddenly, within a blink of an eye was his tummy and the lower abdomen lit with fire all by its own. The fire was rapid enough to conquer the whole body, while the helpless man screamed and groaned in pain, as the flesh and veins burnt. He was all alone in the chamber, and the same horrid laughter of the woman filled the entire room. The flames began to melt his shape into ashes, casting a shadow on the wall; the shadow of a woman in a gown, with her lofty hair and flaunting curves, draped in flames and laughing at him loudly. A Banshee Knight shall give rise to a Necromancer’, was the message written with blood on the opposite wall. His cry reduced every moment, while her laughter increased.

  It was so dreadful and heart-subduing that Barbara opened her eyes. The dream was over. She was on her haunches on her bed, drenched in sweat. The mystery that had always drawn her attention was perhaps unveiled. The terrific scene repeated before her eyes, while the loud cry of the poor man echoed in her ears. Indeed, the Curse of Cassandra Frost was no nuisance, but the actual truth behind the tale of the mysterious death of Sean Maddox. Cassandra was not just any woman or a witch, but a Banshee Knight whose wailings were a forerunner of death. She would give rise to a Necromancer, something that sounded like a sharp warning against mankind, about which nothing was known. The thought chilled her to the heart and terrified her so much that Barbara feared her very own shadow casting on the wall. She was frightened, while her nerves battled to withstand it.

  She jumped off her bed and moved towards the table in her chamber in order to fetch herself some wine, which she believed would dissolve and digest her internal agitation.

  She poured some in the glass and gulped it all at once. The horrific dream still disturbed her mind, making the glass quiver and rattle in her hand. She was struggling to battle her thoughts, when suddenly some unusual sound fell into her ears. Very stealthily, she heard it pass upstairs until it died away in the distance. It came straight from Chris’ chamber.

  A queer thought came into her head. She placed her glass on the table, and with a dour face moved in the direction of the sound through the dark corridors and towards the stairway. The lights were turned off and the place was as dull as the night. She didn’t turn it on, in order to remain unnoticed, and began ascending the stairs. The night was long, while the air was bitter and keen. The unusual sound slowly turned into a moan as she got closer and closer, with every ascending step. She could have easily guessed it right, but was too disturbed with her dream that repeated itself time and again. She once had the thought of discovering Cassandra Frost up in the chambers, who might be awaiting her arrival, and it turned her breath cold.

  She ascended the remaining steps and landed into the long narrow corridor before his chamber. Her nerves thrilled with anticipation and the cold wind blew upon her face through the gloomy corridor. She sneaked towards his room at the far end, and the sound increased with every nearing step.

  She hid in the dark and peeped through the door, which was neither locked nor properly shut. Moonlight entered through the small opening at the top of the wall, diluting the darkness within. There were candles flickering on the mantelpiece before the couch, and there it was! She could barely trust her eyes as to what they witnessed, striking a chill into her heart. She could have never ever imagined such a thing despite her strong dislike for that man. Chris and his aunt, his very aunt Lara Hills, were naked before her eyes, wrapped in each other on the couch. Chris was on her top, thrashing her as hard as he could. They moaned in pleasur
e with every move, kissing and cuddling all the while.

  Barbara was stunned. She had always known him to be unmannered and mean, but she had never ever thought about something like this. The incident made her remember the times when the two were always late for dinner, and she could actually apprehend as to why Lara agreed for a small chamber upstairs when she was being offered a big one beside her own sister’s.

  She could have used this single incident against Chris, but she was barely interested in him, as if he has never existed for her. She therefore immersed herself back into the dark in order to get away unnoticed and moved her silent steps back towards the stairwell.

  The grunting sound suddenly stopped. Something was not right and she could sense it, though she didn’t had the heart, at that instance to look back. A horror sprang up in her and convulsed her whole features. With bated breath and crouching figure, she stumbled across the corridor, using darkness as her shield. She could hear some footsteps, or perhaps it might have been an illusion out of fear, as she rushed towards the stairs. But before she could take any step further, she was held by a stiff hand that pulled her back. It was him, Chris Maddox, who grabbed her by her waist with one hand, while the other one sealed her mouth. She tried to cry out for help but it was useless, as he pulled her back into his chamber.

  “I have wanted you for so long”, he whispered, smiling at her helplessness, while his sinister eyes stared her in a most unusual way. He pushed her down to the floor and locked the door. She was trapped inside with a monster and Lara, who sat naked on the bed with a glass of wine.

  “Please let me go”, she begged and a few drops of tears rolled down her eyes.

  “I think not”, he replied, beckoning Lara to get him some wine. “Women are never to be entirely trusted, not the best of them”, he said, pouring the wine down his throat, following which the two kissed, while poor Barbara lay down on the floor.

  “I love you Babs! And you only belong to me,” he said.

  “Never”, she cried. “I will embrace death rather than accepting you”. Her sharp voice reflected her strong dislike and hatred towards him.

  Chris and Lara laughed, which sounded no less than an insult. He threw the empty glass annoyingly on the floor, causing it to shatter into pieces. He bent down and grabbed her legs, pulling her towards himself, while Lara stood still and enjoyed the act.

  Barbara tried resisting it and dragged herself backward. She was flooded with tears. Never had she imagined him to be so graceless and scroungy. She looked quickly up at the niggard man with an angry gleam in her green eyes. Chris pulled her for the second time but she opposed, using her legs to push him away as hard as she could. The force threw him back, and he hit against Lara, who further fell back towards the wall. The back of her head smashed hard against it, and the very next moment, the lady fainted.

  “Lara”, he cried, giving a most dismal groan, as he moved to check on her, and meanwhile Barbara’s hands felt the splinters lying on the floor. She grabbed one and rushed towards the door. This annoyed Chris furthermore, and he quickly chased her, pulling her by her hair and pressing her against the wall. He moved his hands over her top, trying to pull down her gown. She was silent but struggling, and her face was still very pale. At last, she looked up with something reckless and defiant in her manner, while her eyes flushed with anger again. She spat on his face, and it was both out of hatred and self-defence. He quickly pulled away his hand to wipe it off at once, and this was when she grasped the splinter, and within a single stroke slit opened his throat.

  Blood gushed out through the opening, like water from a fountain, and he slowly fell down unconscious on his knees, and finally lay down on the floor; senseless and dead, with his dead eyes staring at her. Some of the blood spills covered her face, which she wiped it clean with her bare hands, throwing down the pointed object. Chris Maddox laid down dead before her, while his mate perhaps unconscious.

  Barbara cared about none among the two. She was still standing in the doorway, conceiving the picture of terror, wringing her hands and moaning to herself. Suddenly, however, she broke out into a sharp, querulous cry. She held herself up, though she was still terrified, and dragged herself by the walls and towards the stairs. She pulled herself with all the strength, but dropped down all of a sudden, following a tremendous sound of an explosion. That sound seemed to freeze her blood. It was so massive that she could actually feel the vibration under her feet. She moved with a thrill of horror, pulling herself towards the small windows by the staircase, though her nerves were still quivering from that sound. Her heart trembled, while her hands turned cold, as cold as a block of marble. She was horror-stricken to witness their magnificent Palace of Jewelsberg under attack, which was being led by the army of Antonio Calaway—the invincible Dictator of North-Eastern Syneria. Her eyes caught the sight of large army tanks surrounding the Palace. The explosion blew up the large boundaries through which the army poured in. The Dictator’s men had gained access to the giant Palace, and the wails and killings followed. The Palace of Jewelsberg was laid under siege.

  The Palace guards were shot down mercilessly, while the ones guarding the top were blown off by the tanks. The guards tried with their body and soul to fight back, but were outnumbered and crushed down by the valiant army.

  The incident struck a chill into her heart, while the poor girl continued to shed tears in helplessness. She was, indeed, half blubbering with fear, and her twitching, feeble face had the helpless, appealing expression of a terrified child. Something struck her mind instantaneously. She remembered it. Something which she had feared before. It was exactly the same sight that she had witnessed in her dream. The broken Palace, the burning walls, and death and mourning everywhere around. Everything was exactly similar like her dream. It was Antonio’s army, the one she recognized by its grey flag that had the emblem of a large mammoth.

  The continuous gunshots and the tremendous sound of firing tanks conquered the entire environment. Nothing could be seen, except conquest and death, the one which she had already conceived in her dream—her disturbing dream.

  The army entered the Palace, like cattle into a farm, and shortly the approaching footsteps audible to her ears. A dozen soldiers or maybe more began to ascend the stairs. The footfall was shuffling, thumping her heart and ears. The square towers located within the barrier had been destroyed, and so was the beautiful garden draped in fire. The nearing footsteps forced her up the stairs and towards the barrier. She had no other choice, as death was everywhere around and there was nowhere to go.

  She was sure about this day to come, not because she had it in her dream, but because she was well aware of Antonio Calaway and the type of person he really was. She knew it with absolute surety that he would do nothing different than this. He would have never let a single territory of his empire slip off his hands. She had tried to warn her uncle and aunt a couple of times before, but none ever listened to her. They perceived her as immature, neglecting all of her words as nuisance, regardless of the truth.

  Barbara rushed towards the top, when she was interrupted by Ella’s cry, which came right down the stairwell.

  She turned around to approach her when the second cry followed. Ella was perhaps brutally assaulted, and she sounded vigorous, screaming her to get away. The cry was heard for one more time, and then it finally died.

  The dead end flashed before Barbara’s eyes. Her breath shortened and her feet turned cold, as the sound of the marching footsteps got closer. She gathered all her strength, and rushed the remaining steps, before finally landing on the wide barrier, most of which had been destroyed. She stood at the end and before the battlements. The large River of Phoenix flowed right beneath the Palace which appeared as dark as the horrific night. The flowing sound of the river could be heard from the top. She stood on the edge, with her back facing the river, as she looked at the scene around, the one that had flashed more than a couple of times earlier in her dream. Broken walls, destroyed garden and bloo
d around everywhere. Everything was exactly the same. She stood cold and motionless, as if paralyzed by the sudden disaster.

  “She’s here”, said one of the army men, ending up at the top. The others followed, pointing their rifles at the target. There were a dozen of them, or perhaps more, all appearing tall and bloodthirsty. One among them dragged the lifeless body of her closest friend, Ella. The poor girl’s face was painted with blood, while other severe wounds covered her body. Her garment was damaged and drenched in blood, and she lay lifeless before her eyes.

  “Surrender yourself or suffer the same fate”, roared one among those figures.

  Barbara remained quiet and still, with no movement except for her silent tears.

  “I command you to surrender”, he cried again. He wanted her to fall to her knees to indicate her surrender.

  She made no move, but remained in her initial state, stunned and shattered. She had turned deadly pale, and her knees seemed to give way under her, and before the men could take any step further, she slipped off the edge and in the act tossed herself off the roof and down into the river.

  Her body swung midway, before getting down and deep into the river, followed by a big splash.

  The guards ran to the edge and flashed their lights to watch the concentric circles on the river surface.

  “She’s dead”, said one among them. “None can survive that giant river”. The River of Phoenix was the largest in the Southern Continent, and it was not easy for anyone to survive it, especially a sweet innocent damsel of twenty. It was the end.

  The same horrendous scene flashed before his eyes; the dark sky turning volcanic red, the raining fireballs, the figures in black hood and the lifeless body of Owen Green. His accidental fall into the dark well chilled him to the heart and sent the blood surging up through his brain. It felt so uneasy and suffocating that his eyes opened. Borkan found himself down, lying on a large ground covered in some blue grass-like thing, which felt sticky all over his body. He discovered himself surrounded with strange human beings, all dwarfs and similar in size, with big round eyes and a pointed nose. They were all stout and stocky and too much in number. Their faces were good-natured rather than beautiful, broad, bright-eyed, red-cheeked, with mouths apt to laughter, and for eating and drinking. They stood surrounding him as he lay still, rubbing his eyes in surprise and awe. Astoundingly, none of the dwarves stood on the ground, but their feet remained inches above it. They stood still and comfortable in air, just like human beings on ground. Borkan hurriedly scanned his surroundings but gathered no sign of Owen. It was just him and the large population of these weird dwarves.