The Prelude to Darkness

by Brenden Christopher Gardner

  “Prince Adreyu, I—”

  “Your concern was noted, Knight-Commander Ser Jered Ludic.” At the pronouncement of his full title, the knight nodded his head slightly. Adreyu continued, “I will not wait for word from the scouts to the west. At dawn, our forces will advance southward. Wherever the shites gather, we will battle them.”

  “There are a handful of knights that I would trust to chart the forest,” Rian intoned. “By your leave, Prince Adreyu, I would dispatch them at once.”

  “See it done,” Adreyu replied, dismissing the knight away. Ser Rian Kolan nodded his head and hurried out of the tent.

  Ser Jered gathered his claymore and gauntlets before shouldering away. Adreyu let the man leave without a word, but it would be the last time the knight-commander shows such impudence.

  “Do not mind Jered,” Lillian said solemnly. “He means well, but he is a man stuck in the old ways.”

  “The old ways, dear Lillian?”

  The knight frowned at that. “Such a breach of decorum, Prince Adreyu. All these brave knights still guard your life, and you are so familiar with me.”

  “Does that bother you, Lillian?” he asked, half-teasingly. “I could care less what they think, and I doubt you care much either. And you still have not told me the old ways.”

  Lillian stepped forward, gauntleted hands flat on his chest. “The Royal Protectors have always been commanded by a knight, and one who has more grey hairs than brown. It unsettles him.”

  Adreyu sighed. “It is hard, dear Lillian, when he does not see sense. But I need him, as I need you. I do trust him. Mayhap he is right.”

  “There, was that so hard, Adreyu? Your trust is not misplaced. I squired under him, though that seems so long ago now. There is no more loyal of a knight in the kingdom.”

  He could not help but smile at her. “No title, even amongst my knights?”

  “The familiarity no longer bothers me.”

  Lillian was smiling so sensuously at him, running her tongue across her lips. Those perfect, scintillating blue eyes pierced into his mind.

  He brought her close, kissed her, and he felt her mouth open up. She kissed back, her tongue against his, and after a stretch of moments, he pushed her back.

  “What is wrong?” she asked, though her face did not show much worry.

  “You will not tease me another night, Lillian,” Adreyu answered, unable to hide a smile from her. “See to matters, then return here, without armour.” He needed that, more than aught else, and the bed warmers alone would never suffice.

  Lillian pressed close, kissing him lightly on the lips. “What are you looking at?”

  He would not lie to her. “Them,” he admitted, pointing. Lilian turned and giggled. The girls were stretched out on the bed moaning; the oldest was pleasuring the younger’s sex, while the third was rubbing her own sex over the both of them.

  “They are quite distracting, filling my mind with such ideas. Is it not the same with you?” Adreyu asked before kissing Lillian’s neck.

  “Oh I do have some ideas for the fun we can have,” Lillian admitted, though she never took her eyes off them. “Especially that one above the other two. She has such a pretty face. It would be a shame to make a mess of it.” She giggled and turned to Adreyu. “I will return without arms and armour, but if it please you, I would like to bring a few surprises.”

  Adreyu could not help but smile. “As you wish.”

  “I must be off, then,” Lillian said, pushing away from Adreyu. “Do not have too much fun whilst I attend to matters.” She waved and left the tent.

  “Prince Adreyu,” all three of the bed warmers called out, amidst screams of pleasure. “We need your hard—”

  “Sers,” Adreyu interrupted, calling out to the attendant knights in the tent. “Remove my armour and leave.”

  It would be a long night before a bloody dawn.

  Sherin Forest

  Dawn

  2 April 15133

  Adreyu dismounted in front of a treeline of old oaks and maples, thick and intertwined.

  A faint breeze on the morning air rippled through the trees, the branches scratching against the bark. Yet there were no wailings, no screams, no howling.

  It was just like every other forest in the wide realm.

  “We proceed on foot,” Adreyu said, turning to his small company of knights, pike, and archers. “We end this on the other side.”

  One by one they dismounted, tossing the reigns to stable hands lost for breath. Adreyu turned to the forest once more, peering into the verdant labyrinth. The forest floor was dark, shadowed by the towering boughs above, and the roots weaved above the dirt.

  An untamed maze, he thought. Naught more than idle fear. I should have ordered a fledging force through here long ago, not paltry scouts of knights. If I had, mayhap my father would not send his wretched birds.

  Two turns of winter had come and gone, and still the gap lay unclaimed. The field was more broken bones and rotting flesh than dirt and soil, and though more Dalians and Isilians had fallen, Adreyu thought he had lost more than won.

  And so did King Marcus Marcanas.

  The king’s words, laced with anger and disdain, ne’er relented, though no lord or knight from the court ever sailed east. At times Adreyu thought it no more than his father’s bluster, but when the war ended, when he stood before the Lion Throne, it would be much different.

  The heads of Ser Elin Durand, Lord Commander Rafael Azail, Lord Protector Ser Johnathan Falenir, High Priestess Lutessa, and the wretched God Stone had to be in Adreyu’s possession.

  He knew that all too well.

  “Prince Adreyu.”

  He turned to the soft, melodious voice of Knight-Captain Lady Lillian Leuven, who had her slitted helm in the crook of her elbow and offered a flittering smile. Beside her, Ser Rian Kolan had his arms crossed, looking side to side with a look of displeasure on his face.

  “Yes?” Adreyu asked, though he suspected what they would say.

  “We can still turn back,” Rian said, then spat off to the side. “No knight ever returned from this forest. Ser Jered thinks we can claim the gap before long.”

  “Even you do not believe that, Rian,” Adreyu said, while supressing the briefest of smiles. “Ser Elin is not the fool we thought he was. The shite will hold the gap for years yet, whatsoever the knight-commander believes.”

  Rian shook his head. “There are ports we can assail—”

  “No,” Adreyu interrupted. “Every ship we send down the coast is sunk. Damian wants us to bleed out here. The overlord will see his due before long.”

  “It is as I told you, Rian,” Lillian began with a shrug of her shoulders. “The forest is our only recourse. Prince Adreyu only—”

  “You side with the prince only on account of—”

  “Swallow those words, ser,” Lillian said cuttingly, her lovely face twisting to a frown. “Lest you do not wish to have a tongue.”

  Rian spat on the ground again, turned on his heel, and walked back towards the company.

  Adreyu laughed. “I do enjoy your anger, Lillian.”

  She offered a little laugh, more a giggle. “And I enjoy watching him twist in the wind.” She paused and her smile dropped. “His sentiment is shared by many within the company. I have quelled many fears, but I do worry. We will make it through, tell me we will?”

  It was so unlike Lillian’s voice to crack, but she stood a little less straight and more shaken than he had ever seen her. He wanted to dismiss her out of turn as he did for Ser Jered, who he nearly cut down for insolence a week before.

  But this was Lillian. “I do not intend to die today,” he said instead, smiling widely. “No forest will be the death of us.”

  “Not without bloodied steel, at least,” Lillian replied, smiling and patting the pommel of her long sword.

  “You found the path to my heart,” Adreyu replied. “Do stay there this time.”

  “Prince Adreyu,” Rian called out, steppi
ng through the company. “All is made ready.”

  “Then let us not keep the shites waiting,” Adreyu said, and stepped over the sprawling roots and into the forest.

  No more than a few slow and methodical steps in, he drew his sword, slashing away at far reaching branches, twisting in the wind. There were a few skittering sounds across the forest floor and upon the highest boughs, but his eyes could pick up naught but shadows.

  Before long, what remained of a dirt path seemed to twist southwards, which he led the company towards. The trees still leaned over, and branches fell to steel, but the sledding was not as hard was the dips and valleys in the wild undergrowth.

  As the dirt path twisted on, he looked side to side, past the shadows and the roots, for the knights who had not returned, or the broken trails of their demise. Naught caught his eye. He was not overly concerned with them: they did their service, as each man and woman in the company would.

  As he would do.

  Eventually, Lillian caught up to his strides. “We lost a score of knights to this?”

  She was not wrong. Treacherous as the forest was, there were no creatures who could topple a knight. Even still, Adreyu had asked Rian for the names of each knight that entered the forest: they had served the kingdom for a score of seasons, and should not have fallen prey so easily.

  “Dusk has not come yet,” Adreyu said instead to Lillian. “The forest would take a day and night to traverse, if not more. Whatever lingers here may sleep still.”

  “I thought you believed the tales rubbish.”

  “I did, and still do,” he answered quickly. “But these were not knights just anointed by my father. They served long and well. For all of them to vanish…”

  He let his words trail off as Lillian began to smile. “You sound just like Ser Jered,” she said softly.

  “Do not remind me,” he near growled, and strode on ahead. She did not keep pace.

  A faint trail of light seemed to flitter through the thick boughs above, casting back shadows from the forest. All around were still thick clumps of undergrowth, and Adreyu could see that the trees were still clumped further from the path.

  And still no corpses.

  The bloodied faces of the knights flittered in his mind eye, their voiceless screams echoing across every thought. He tried to dismiss them, telling himself that their sacrifice was for the greater glory of the Lion Throne, but they kept hurdling forth, more gut wrenching and bloodier than ever.

  He had failed them, each one.

  Whipping his head around, the shadows seemed to move, but the undergrowth did not stir. Momentarily, he thought white eyes big as saucers appeared, though they did not last long.

  Mirthless, wordless voices seemed to carry on the wind. Glancing over his shoulder, none of the company seemed to hear it, nor the knight-captains. They simply trudged on.

  It is only my imagination, Adreyu admitted to himself. It is only—

  A clump of oaks on either side of the path seemed to lean in, blocking out the light of day. Some of them even seemed to move; the bark twisting into visages of death and decay.

  Adreyu dared not look back. He would not show weakness to the company. No, he would not fall as the others did, taken by terror.

  Where are you? he thought to himself, tightening his grip on the hilt of his steel. You monsters, you daemons, you cursed, bloody men. Show yourself, and I may show you mercy.

  “Prince Adreyu.”

  When I find you, I will bleed you out, and leave your corpse to dry in the sun.

  “Prince Adreyu!”

  Do you think to try me? Do you mock me by hiding behind trees and below roots? Do you send rabbits to skulk and scout? Show yourselves!

  He turned about and saw Lillian grasp his free arm, a look of worry creasing her face. “Prince Adreyu, do you not see it?” she asked.

  Following her outstretched finger, he saw a clearing, the midday sun shining flat upon it. A small, squat cottage sat beside a cool, undisturbed pond.

  “You see it too?” He knew it was a fool’s question, made worse by Lillian’s unceasing frown. He shook his head. “I am fine.” Her frown did not fade. “I want eyes north, south, and west. Whatever is in that cottage, I will handle. See that I am not surprised, Lillian.”

  Ser Rian started to shout commands. He seemed to overhear.

  “I do not want to lose you,” Lillian said, fighting back tears.

  “Just stay back,” Adreyu said sternly, though the look of concern did not fade from Lillian’s face. He would have to make that up to her when this was all done.

  Nearing the cottage, he could hear footsteps from inside. Whatever it was, whatsoever fell voice or visage it had, he would cut it down. Tightening his grip on his sword, he called out, “Where are you?”

  The patter of feet picked up and the cottage door swung open. An old man stood there, his loose, lanky hair a near pristine white. A pair of skinny spectacles sank on his long, sharp nose, matching his piercing brown eyes. Rubbing his hands on his brown trousers, he nodded his head and said, “Prince Adreyu. You have come when they said you would. The tea is just about ready. I trust you will want a cup, yes?”

  Adreyu raised his steel; he did not believe it was just an old man. Advancing nearer, he asked, “My knights, where are they?”

  “Attending your knight-captains beyond the borders of my little land, I do not doubt.”

  “That is not who I meant,” Adreyu seethed. “I do not take well to liars.”

  “I will account it all to you in due course. Please, do come inside. “ The old man gestured towards the door, bowing deeply.

  Adreyu stood a few feet from the old man. He did not trust the old man’s words, suspecting that there was some unseen presence behind them. “You first.”

  The old man straightened and entered his home.

  Adreyu reluctantly followed.

  Inside the cottage was cramped and drab, though neat and clean. A narrow bed was pushed against the far wall, and shelves stuffed with leather bound tomes stood beside it. Uncaring what the old man thought, Adreyu read the spines: The Reigns of the Voice, The Mountain of the East, Trade in the South, and Bloody Claws of the Lion.

  He turned to the old man, who stood by a small hearth where a kettle puffed out steam. “You are well read, old man. Bloody Claws of the Lion. Written by some pious shite, I do not doubt.”

  “The man who does not read is a fool,” the old man said flatly, then lifted up the kettle and poured the boiling water into two tea cups. “You must forgive the bland flavour. I do not leave my land much.”

  Adreyu did not answer, but walked to a small, round table in the centre of the cottage, pulled a wooden chair out, and threw his bare steel on the table. “As long as you drink first.” He sat down.

  “You are distrustful, Prince Adreyu, and that has served you well,” the old man said as he placed a cup of tea before Adreyu, then sipped from his own cup. “Still quite hot. But, ah yes, there is no need for such distrust here.”

  “Do you take me for a fool?” Adreyu bristled. “I do not know your name, and do not think I failed to hear those voices and the faces in the bark.”

  “Frederick,” the old man said as he sat down. “My name is Frederick.”

  “Most men do not keep their heads who forget respect for so long.” Adreyu took a sip of tea. It was still quite hot. He put it down and tapped the steel of his sword. “If you know my name, then you must know why I am here.”

  Frederick pressed down on his white tunic and said, “Not for your fallen knights. You seek a path to the fields south of the forest, no doubt to flank the Dalians and Isilians at the gap, is that not so?”

  Not a word passed this Frederick’s lips that eased Adreyu’s mind. “How would you know much of that, holed up here?”

  “I am not a hermit, Prince Adreyu,” Frederick said simply, before taking a long sip of tea. “I have few friends in the great kingdoms, but word does reach me. I know that you have burned much o
f the Northlands, and that the gap is more a lichyard than grassland. War exacts a terrible toll.”

  Adreyu threw his teacup against the wall. “Word reaches you? Yes, do your daemons tell you that?”

  “Daemons?” Frederick said aloud, sipping his tea as if naught had passed. “Nay, they are not daemons, nor are they mindless beasts as the Dalians have often said. They are the masters of the forest. Not so distant from the people who dwell in the forests of your own kingdom.”

  Shaman, Adreyu thought, remembering the tales of his youth. Dirty, grubby soothsayers who only creep out of their hovels to foretell death and ruin. Not that any of those white words ever came to pass. “They cower, but do not show steel.”

  “Not all people are alike, Prince Adreyu,” Frederick said nonchalantly. “Nor is every weapon sharpened steel.”

  Whoever these masters of the forests were, they had slain the knights. The voices and visages were too much for Adreyu to ignore, even if this Frederick seemed like a harmless old man. “Were they buried?”

  “I cannot say. I was not told.”

  Adreyu stood and pointed his steel at Frederick. “My father and I do not agree on much, but he would want blood for his fallen knights. And I, old man, would be more than happy to bleed you like a stuck pig.”

  The old man simply stared back and said, “And why, after all that has passed—and will pass upon your return to the Lion Throne—that you care a whit for your father’s opinion?”

  “You have balls, old man,” Adreyu said, a smirk crossing his face. “A fool though, just like all these other pious shites.”

  “I have not taken to piety for long years. Nor do you frighten me.”

  “Dead men have often said the same thing. Not with words, but all men scream out in terror when their blood runs cold.”

  “I wish to tell you a story. You may stand as you will, grasping your weapon.” Frederick put his tea cup down on the saucer and gently brushed it aside. “I was invited to this land many years ago. I presented myself to the masters of the forest, prone, dirt and worms against my lips. There I remained, humble, with due respect. The masters, they talked about me, what I was and what I would be. They needed me, but did not trust me.