Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos)

by Graham Carmichael

  Chapter 12

  The priests of the God of Chaos Order arrived at Blackheart castle. They came with a convoy of horses; carrying a wide range of trinkets that would be used in the ceremony. As they approached the portcullis, The Watcher stood observing them from the northern balcony at the top of the keep.

  “At last, they have arrived.” He said aloud with nobody in earshot. He turned and began his descent to the courtyard in order to greet the priests in person. The huge, creaky wooden gates to the castle were opened by goblins operating the crankshaft on the parapet. It seemed to take a long time for the gates to open fully as they were large, impenetrable and extremely heavy. The priests could see the imposing figure of The Watcher staring at them through the iron bars. The portcullis came to a halt with a loud metallic clang.

  “Welcome to Blackheart Castle.” The Watcher greeted.

  “We come only to serve.” The High Priest replied bowing low. The priests were all dressed in maroon-red robes. They had a v-neck collar, low cut, which was lined with a black material similar to silk. Only the High Priest wore different. He wore an entirely black robe fashioned in the same style

  “Follow me to the altar room.” The Watcher commanded. The High Priest followed obediently. Before disappearing into the keep, the High Priest gestured with his hand. Immediately, the other priests began unloading the horses.

  Once in the altar room, The Watcher spoke.

  “What are the chances of this working?”

  The Priest stopped looking around the room and turned to face The Watcher.

  “There is no doubt that it will work. Providing, that is, that you do not object to the ritual taking a long time.” The High Priest sounded like a man who had done this before.

  “How much time will you require?” The Watcher asked with a hint of displeasure at the tone of voice used by the High Priest.

  “There is no way of saying exactly how long the process will take. It could be a few days or anywhere up to one week. It will not be longer than that.” The High Priest was a weasel of a man who only had the courage to be so bold due to his allegiance with Bhryll. He knew that The Watcher had to be more fearful of him than vice versa.

  “Make your preparations.” The Watcher commanded turning to leave.

  “One more thing,” the High Priest began, “there can be no interruptions to the ceremony; not even from you.”

  The Watcher hissed before reluctantly saying, “I understand.” With that, he left the room.

  The priests set about creating the perfect atmosphere for the ceremony to take place. A ceremonial blanket was thrown over the altar in the centre of the room. Important artefacts that originally belonged to Bhryll were strategically placed to help the priests entice the correct soul into the body. Candles were lit; the book of incantations was placed at the foot of the altar. Finally, the child was brought to them. The Watcher carried Isabelle into the room, his long skeletal fingers surrounding her. As she was placed on to the altar, a booming ripple of thunder shook the very tower they stood in. The priests undressed the child and began painting strange markings on her body using fresh human blood from the slaves they had in the dungeon. Once the markings had been drawn, the priests began to chant. The thunder grew louder and the occasional fork of lightning lit up the room. The High Priest picked up a bowl of blood and proceeded to pour it down Isabelle’s throat. The High Priest opened the book of incantations and began to read from it. The ceremony had commenced.

  The next day the adventurers awoke with a terrible feeling.

  “Something is wrong. I have an unnerving feeling within my very soul.” Anree stated trying not to be the foreteller of bad news.

  “I feel it too.” John started. “I had a dream last night that dark figures were doing something to Isabelle. They were casting spells I think.”

  “I think you may be right.” Anree agreed. “Whatever reason Isabelle was kidnapped for, the conclusion is nigh. We should proceed with haste.” Anree turned to Conrad and Cohen. “What did your search in the tunnels turn up?”

  “There was no sign of the child but we found something most useful.” Conrad said.

  “We located two maps. One of the island; the other of Fairthesal Forest.” Cohen continued.

  Anree took the maps from Conrad. She looked closely at both. Many minutes passed before she spoke again.

  “Our path seems obvious. The map of Fairthesal seems to be very clear. The clearing we were searching for is clearly marked. The map of the island is also helpful. It seems to me that Isabelle would be in one of two places.” She showed the map to the others. “She will either be in the fortress to the north-west of the island or she will be in the castle directly west. Judging by the indicated size of each place I would guess she would be here.” Anree pointed to Blackheart Castle.

  “Blackheart Castle.” Conrad shuddered at reading the name. “Just the name of the place sends a chill down my spine.”

  “If my sister is in that castle, then that is where we shall go. Come let us make haste.” John commanded.

  “Wait” Anree shouted. “We do not know for certain that your sister is in that castle. We need first to go to the altar in Fairthesal. If I am right about the power it holds, it will be able to confirm if my suspicions are correct.”

  “How much time will be wasted in doing so? You said it yourself, something is very wrong.” John snapped.

  “I appreciate your situation but if the altar can do what it is supposed to be able to, we may find that we get to Blackheart Castle far quicker than trudging across this island on foot.”

  John did not look happy but he accepted the situation. The party geared up and went back into Terror Trees Forest.

  The journey was much quicker than before. The map guided them to the exact location of the clearing. Because it was daylight, they did not encounter any goblin resistance. The sight of the altar made Anree’s jaw drop. She had read about altars like this but had yet to see one.

  “An altar of the gods.” She said to herself in a quiet whisper. The others heard.

  “What does it do?” Cohen asked curious as to what use a lump of stone would be.

  Anree was now walking around it, being careful to keep her distance, but wanting desperately to touch it.

  “It allows those who have worshiped the gods for a long time, to be able to gain a favour.” She said. Her voice sounded far away as if she was in a daydream.

  “At what cost is this favour granted?” John asked sceptically.

  “For those with a pure heart, the cost is nothing. For those whose intentions are anything but pure, the cost would be your life.” Anree said forcefully, snapping out of her daydream state.

  “So, who will try it?” Conrad asked praying that it wouldn’t be him.

  “I will do it.” Anree said confidently. “It will be a test of my faith. This could be a life affirming moment for me.”

  No more time was wasted looking at the altar. Anree took the map of the island and laid it on the altar. She placed one hand on the map and one hand on the stone of the altar. She uttered her prayer before screaming:

  “Oh, gods of my faith show me where the child I seek is being held and show me the safest route there.”

  Thick black cloud rolled in overhead. Thunder and lightning crashed and forked as if an angry god had answered. Anree felt the end of her left index finger split open. The pain was intense but she did not flinch. Then her arm began to move. The blood dripping finger began to act like a pen; drawing a line from Fairthesal Forest to Blackheart Castle. Then as quickly as it had arrived, the cloud vanished. Anree collapsed to the floor. She was totally unconscious but alive. Cohen picked up the map from the altar.

  “Look,” He began, “there is a line from here to Blackheart.” The others gathered round to have a look.

  “Anree was right. The child is in Blackheart Castle.” Rhyll said.

  “There is also something else written here.” Cohen continued when the
map was returned to him. “It is either a word or a name. It is very faint. Bhryll.”

  “Bhryll, that sounds like your name.” Conrad said to Rhyll.

  “I am named after a god.” Rhyll stated. “I am named after the god of order.”

  “Then who is Bhryll? Is he some kind of god?” John asked dreading the answer.

  Rhyll paused for a moment deep in thought before recounting a small tale from barbarian folklore.

  “When the earth was born, many gods vied for position in the heavens. The gods wanted their families to be the most powerful; to command the most worship from the humans. Bhryll and Rhyll were born twins. Rhyll was born first and very easily. He didn’t even cry when he came out. Bhryll on the other hand would not come out. He made his mother endure another day of labour; a labour that would kill her. Bhryll came out at the last second, screaming and crying. The gods bestowed the titles and gave them the power therein. Rhyll became the god of order; Bhryll the god of chaos. The legend has it that both brothers took on human form and battled each other to see what the people of the earth would act like. Rhyll gained the majority of the support but Bhryll had many loyal followers. The final battle saw the brothers slay each other thus humankind had to decide its own course. That is why the world is as it is; a mixture of good and evil.”

  “Why is the name of the god of chaos on this map?” Conrad asked.

  “Maybe the people in the castle are the remnants of Bhryll’s supporters.” Cohen mused.

  The party avoided saying what the worst case scenario was. However, they all thought it. Anree began to stir.

  “Are you alright?” Conrad asked helping her to sit up.

  “Yes, I am fine. Did it work?”

  “It sure did.” Cohen said passing her the map. “It looks like our route has been plotted for us.”

  “Then let us waste no more time.” Anree said scrambling to her feet. “We go to Blackheart Castle.”

  Once again, The Watcher was looking out across the land. His attention had been caught by the sudden cloud movement to the east. He knew that something or someone had been sent to attempt a rescue. He was not going to let this happen. As part of the preparation that he had carried out to get the ceremony started, he had assigned a legion of Wraiths to be ready to move to intercept any approaching army. The Watcher figured that an entire army would have been seen by now and he would have heard the reports. The most logical course of action would be quiet infiltration. It was his guess that there would be between three and ten men on there way. He went to the courtyard where the Wraiths were in training.

  “Attention.” He demanded. “It seems that someone is approaching to try and sabotage the rebirth ceremony. This cannot be allowed to happen. There are only two paths leading to this castle. The road to the south, leading through the valley of tortured souls. The other leads over the northern cliffs. You will be split in to two groups. You shall take a path each and find these interlopers. Once you have found them; Kill them.”

  The Wraiths bowed, acknowledging The Watchers commands. Then they were gone. They travelled with haste to make sure that nothing got within ten miles of the castle.

  “The humans will be dead very soon.” The Watcher’s evil laugh could be heard echoing between the walls of the castle. All creatures froze at the sheer penetrating force of it.

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