The Prelude to Darkness

by Brenden Christopher Gardner

  The lord chamberlain ignored the silence and spoke. “The king owes his attention to the subjects of our kingdom. Trecht—as you will learn when the day comes for you to rule—is wide and vast. Dalia, Isilia—and most certainly this contrived Southern Nations—cannot hold a candle to the breadth of our sovereignty. On and on our lands spread westwards: endless rolling plains, magnificent mountains, rivers that weave and surge. Farmers, labourers, scholars, they all are subjects to your father, and their concerns, their sustenance, they are of great concern to him. It is to them that we must guide. No burden is stronger than the king’s, but to his sons, that weight must be taken earnestly.”

  “I had not forgotten our land, Lord Chamberlain. I have visited many of our towns and cities. I know the responsibility that we bear.”

  “Your father will be glad to learn of this,” Lord Theadric said as he wiped his sticky hands on his robe. “Your father will require your presence at—”

  The lord chamberlain suddenly tossed his head to and fro, his eyes wide and alert. Tristifer stood and reached out to the old man, but then he heard the clamour of plate and steel. There were shouts, and he thought one belonged to the knight outside his chamber door.

  Ser Lucius Godbert burst into the chamber, sword drawn. “My prince, you must come with me at once.”

  Tristifer rose to his feet, trying to ignore the shouting and the plate ringing through the hall. “Ser Lucius, what madness has taken the castle?”

  “I do not know, my prince. There are foes within the castle. My knights are rooting them out. Your father wishes for you to be with him, at the Lion Throne. You will be safe there.”

  “That will not do, Ser Lucius,” Lord Theadric said suddenly. Tristifer looked at the lord chamberlain inquisitively as he spoke. “This is the prince, and the heir to the throne. He shall not be ushered to and fro blindly.”

  “Does the lord chamberlain question the orders of the king?” Ser Lucius bristled.

  “Only yours,” Lord Theadric replied.

  “Do not forget your place, my lord.” Tristifer said strongly, staring daggers into the lord chamberlain. “They are the king’s orders. To you, Lord Theadric I say this: scour the royal apartments, and the noble wings as well, before you return to the throne. I shall meet with you there.”

  The lord chamberlain scowled, but passed out into the hall with a surprising alacrity. Tristifer heard the old man call out for knights, before scurrying out of sight.

  “Ser Lucius,” Tristifer muttered, trying to read the knight’s face, but he saw no more than cold loyalty. “I am no mere boy, naive in youth. In times of peril, it should be your sword that guards the king. Why do you not attend my father?

  The knight frowned and knit his brows, and though the words were hard, there was a softness too. “The king, my prince, it is he who sent me away. There are knights lined up and down the Lion Throne, and Prince Adreyu swore his steel to your father’s life. Your brother, Prince Adonis, heard the words as well. The king is safe.”

  Tristifer sighed. “Take me to the king, ser.”

  The halls echoed with plate footfalls and shouts. The noise was such a cacophony that Tristifer could barely hear himself think. He could not see any blood upon the floors or walls, but the servants cowered in doorways and inside chambers, muttering feverishly.

  Ser Lucius lead Tristifer down a great stairwell, and down the main hall to the doors leading to the Lion Throne. He still did not see blood or heaped up bodies of invaders, though the scores of knights stood outside the doors, swords drawn, tension writ across their faces.

  The doors were thrown open, and Tristifer passed through the short hall into the throne room. He saw his father and heard only the sound of a bar slamming down on the door behind.

  “Adreyu,” Tristifer said. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Adreyu had the king on his knees, holding the edge of a short sword near his neck. The knights did not draw their swords, and Tristifer saw Adonis huddle against the shadows of a pillar, looking away from the throne.

  “Answer your brother, you worthless husk of flesh!” King Marcus uttered defiantly. His eyes were wide and wroth. “I am your father and your king. It is time you learn that.”

  “Oh, speak like that to me again, Father, and my hand may just slip.” Adreyu moved his hand up and down as if to emulate the shakes. “It was a long war, Father. I am still all a-titter.”

  “This is treason!” the king exclaimed.

  “Treason?” Adreyu shouted. “You would speak of treason? What of your actions, your decisions, Father? You were oh so obsessed with this accursed God Stone, and every sot in your fucking court knows that. Of course, they do not know what it is, no more than you do, oh, but you did delude yourself into thinking it once belonged to us, and it was stolen. When? By whom? No Dalian nor Isilian has entered Trecht for hundreds of years. Your own fantasies, Father.”

  “They had to be brought to heel!”

  “Oh, now I do not disagree, Father.” Adreyu smirked. “I spit on those pious fools and the wretched cunts in the wasteland. I took your motive for what it was, but you, oh yes you, you did not grant me enough knights, and vowed to cut my head off if I did not push and push and push. I would not share that with the court, or someone else would have done this for me. No, I may not be a knight like so many in this chamber, but they were my brothers and sisters in arms. They were mine, and your hubris slew them!”

  “Disgraces, just like you.”

  Tristifer heard the shuffling of feet, though none of the knights drew their steel. He did not know what possessed his father in this madness, nor his brother.

  “You see, Tristifer, he is mad,” Adreyu said sullenly. “These knights, these Royal Protectors, they know it too, but will they act ‘gainst our wretched father? No, they will not. I saw it in their eyes. Ser Lucius’ too. He will stand by and let us decide. Well, not our brother, he is too cowardly for this.”

  Tristifer looked to Adonis, who still stood in the shadows; he shook his head, muttering inaudibly. Tristifer turned and looked to Ser Lucius—his face was blank, his gauntleted hands were balled into fists, and he nodded his head slightly.

  “What do you want me to say, brother?” Tristifer asked, moving a few steps forward, looking into his father’s eyes. He saw naught but crazed fury. He looked into Adreyu’s eyes, and saw pain and rage. “He is our father. He has brought us nearly to ruin as a king, but he is our father. What would Mother say?”

  Adreyu stared back intently. “Mother? More than you know, dear brother. He had her slain.”

  King Marcus squirmed, though Adreyu pulled his hair back, and the gold crown crashed against the stone steps, bouncing towards Tristifer. He did not look at it, though he saw his father’s eyes lock upon it.

  “That crown meant more than our mother’s embrace,” Adreyu screeched. “You feared her and what she would do. She loved you, you bastard.”

  “Adreyu,” Tristifer said commandingly as he retrieved the crown and held it in his right hand. The crown felt heavy, heavier than any burden he had yet to bear. “How long have you known this?”

  “He has not known it long, my prince,” Ser Lucius said as he stepped forth. “As for how he learned of it—”

  “Ser Lucius!” a voiced called from beyond the doors to the throne. “We have him.”

  Tristifer nodded to Ser Lucius, and the knight pointed towards the men at the door. They unbarred the door, and another knight pushed Lord Theadric Rammel forth, who was bruised and bloodied.

  “He was to be unharmed, ser,” Ser Lucius said coldly.

  “The lord chamberlain was not unarmed, nor alone,” the knight said.

  “These others—who are they?” Tristifer asked. He wanted to know who aided Lord Theadric.

  “They would not give their names in the struggle, my prince, nor did they bear sigils. The lot of them looked drab and desolate, and spoke sharply and quickly. I daresay they are our own kin, but not of the knights, I would s
wear to that.”

  Tristifer looked down upon Lord Theadric Rammel. His eyes were still nearly closed, but the faint light in them flickered, and the gaunt, emotionless expression was guilt enough.

  “What possessed you to connive against the queen—my mother?” Tristifer asked.

  The lord chamberlain did not raise his eyes from the marble floor. “I did not question the orders of the king. I found the men. They sold their swords over the course of their lives, every one. They served dissidents to the crown. If you scour my chambers, you will find the names.”

  “Theadric!” King Marcus screeched, though his eyes crept to the steel at his throat. “You lying whore.”

  “I whored myself to your ambitions,” Lord Theadric intoned. “’Til the Cleaver Prince held you at sword point, I obeyed your will. I have moulded young Tristifer into a worthy Trechtian lord.” The lord chamberlain shrugged his shoulders, sighing, though ne’er looking up. “Yet the game is up, King Marcus. The men still loyal to you are dead. I saw their corpses when I fled from the prince’s chambers. These,” he said the word so vilely, “false knights saw to their end. Fate was not kind to us, Your Majesty.”

  “You failed me! You spineless coward. Defend your trueborn king!”

  “Trueborn king?” Lord Theadric asked solemnly. “Ser Lucius. This will be the last order from the king that was: defend your trueborn king.”

  The knight’s sword went through the lord chamberlain, his robes turning into puddles of crimson. At the sight of it, the king frantically squirmed, though he suddenly remained still as blood seeped from his neck.

  “Why did you slay Mother?” Tristifer asked. He did not know what the answer would be, but he needed to hear it.

  “A king is accountable to none—not even his sons.”

  “That is where you err, Father.” Tristifer said as he walked to the throne. He held the crown with both his hands, and the weight was nearly more than he could bear. “We do not serve our own interests, but all. All who are born beneath the great lion need to know why the queen is dead.”

  “Father,” Adonis said suddenly, emerging from the shadows. “I do not much know of these affairs, but I would know of my mother.”

  “As would I,” Adreyu said sharply, grinning.

  “She told me,” the king started, though Tristifer saw a fleck of shadow cross his eyes. “She told me that the God Stone was a dream of fools, and that, whatsoever I was told, she would do anything to stop me. No, I would not have that, not from my queen. The God Stone is ours by right of birth. It shall not be denied to us. She died a traitor’s death!”

  “Father, you—,” Tristifer looked to his brothers briefly. Adreyu looked dark, scowling. Adonis seemed anxious. “Father, you told us that Mother had taken ill, and in her weakness, she did not wish for us to see her so. Mother was always prideful, but no fool, and, the children that we were, we believed it.

  “I remember the look on my mother’s face as we lowered her unto the ground. Her beautiful face was wracked with pain. She was so pale. I believed your words. The healers repeated them. It was all a lie.”

  Tristifer glared at his father, who suddenly trembled. “It was a lie, Father! You took our mother on account of a mythical delusion that you chase. The God Stone? The God Stone? Would you not have rested until all that you once loved is consumed by this madness?”

  “’Tis no myth! He told me you would turn on me, just like these other sots of my blood. If only my knights would have stayed true, we would have reigned for a thousand more years. Now our end is near. Tell your brother to cut my throat. Let the kingdom die with me.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Yes, Father,” Adreyu said sharply, breaking his father’s skin slightly. “Who is he?”

  “The only counsel I ever had worthy of lordship,” King Marcus said. “We are surrounded by traitors, my sons. They have poisoned you against me. Tainted you! The God Stone is all that matters. Even if it costs me all that I love. It is what Trecht needs—what Trecht craves. That is what we serve.”

  Tristifer did not know the creature before him. “Adreyu, I no longer see the Blood of the Lion.”

  Adreyu’s steel opened his father’s neck, and the blood splattered all over Tristifer’s robes, but he did not care. He walked up the steps, over the body of the king, and sat upon the throne.

  Adreyu wiped his steel clean and stood to Tristifer’s right, and Adonis kneeled to the fore, hands outstretched. Tristifer placed the crown in his brother’s hands; Adonis raised it and placed it on Tristifer’s head.

  He could not see it, but he knew it did not sit askance.

  The knights walked out from the walls, lined up before him, and kneeled. Ser Lucius was at the fore and proclaimed, “The Blood of the Lion sits in judgment! All hail King Tristifer Marcanas.”

  “All hail King Tristifer Marcanas,” the knights intoned.

  Tristifer allowed himself a smile. He looked past the knights, and stared out the doors. He knew there was much to be done.

  Though it all began with the he, and the shadows that consumed his father.

  ??? years Later…

  The Will of Darkness

  ???

  ?? ?? ????

  Amos drifted through the Darkness.

  He let it suffuse him; its strength was intoxicating as it tore through his flesh, searing his mind with pain. Once, he would have screamed, but it was now a welcome friend.

  He let it carry him through the Unseen Realm. He gazed below to the gaols his brother had erected, in the depths of the deepest darkness. There was a woman, tall and proud, rattling against her chains and shouting incomprehensibly. It was so long since she had walked the realm, and if plans did not go awry, it would be longer yet.

  Kings that were sat in a circle, bound together, their crowns as weighty as the thick chains that bound them. The youngest of their lot could barely keep his neck straight, the burden of his rule weighing him down. The others sat with a stillness, a placid regard for what had come. Amos knew that, before long, the chains would be lengthened, for more would follow in their path.

  Beyond sight and hearing, there would be countless others mired in darkness, bound in shadows, crying out for a salvation that would ne’er reach them. Light did dwell beyond death, but the dark god was far stronger than a goddess of fleeting strength.

  The Darkness took him above the gaols, hurdling him further and further away, towards heights yet unseen by this mortal realm, but that would change.

  Slowly, the Darkness thickened, the shadows coalesced, and Amos was enraptured by an endless churning, a maelstrom of death and decay.

  His feet met solid ground, and he knelt before gazing upwards. There He stood at a great height before a darkened throne. His twisted sword sheathed at his back, tattered cloak fluttering in a brief wind, his thick armour mottled, His flesh cracked and diseased.

  “Lord Sariel,” Amos intoned. “I bring news.”

  “The king has found his place in your brother’s gaols,” Lord Sariel intoned, crimson eyes flickering. “Three hundred years since the last soul passed unto our keeping. I had doubted you.”

  Amos could feel Lord Sariel in his mind, reading every thought. He could not hide anything from the dark god. “Doubt no longer, Lord Sariel. My servant in the holy land has said much that you will wish to hear.”

  Pain threaded to Amos; he placed hands on his head, crumbling to the ground. “You would utter those vile words, here!” Lord Sariel shouted. “I have trusted to your servants once before. Fifteen thousand years we have lingered, one abysmal defeat after another. I had chosen a poor herald.”

  Amos pushed himself to one knee, fighting through the pain. He gave himself to the Darkness; it gave him a little, fleeing strength. “The high priestess has acted against him. Little by little hope flees from his heart. All it will take is but a whisper from your essence, Lord Sariel, and he will succumb to endless despair. His strength and wisdom shall be yours, Lord Sariel; a worthy vessel
for your Darkness rising.”

  “I am the Darkness Rising!” Lord Sariel shouted, and the very air of the Unseen Realm seemed to choke Amos. “And so shall he be, if he proves pliant.”

  “Oh, but he will, Lord Sariel,” Amos said, pushing himself to his feet. All his plotting had come to fruition. The dark god had to know his worth. “The Trechtians are but a shell of what they once were, mired now by a coup for the Lion Throne, whilst the masters of the forest draw e’er nearer. Dalia and Isilia are weakened, no longer able to keep the reavers at bay. The overlord will bask in his victory, but he will not be sated; not by coin or influence, but your gifts he shall seek but cannot have.

  “Fifteen thousand years ago I could not extinguish the Light, but now my father has given into hopeless, his only seed ignorant of what truly awaits her. The fire you seek, the destruction you crave, it is but within reach.”

  Lord Sariel cracked a smile, his lips quivering together like worms. “Then the Time of Ascendance is at hand.”

  The ground shook. Amos steadied himself, as he watched the Darkness throb and coalesce about Lord Sariel, and all along the walls the symbols of the Animus Stones ignited: Sovereignty, Sky, Pyre, Cognizance, Faith, Entropy, Dominion, Subversion, Plague, Lucidity, Salvation, and Twilight.

  Lord Sariel spoke as streams of light and darkness suffused in his outstretched hand. “They shall call out now to those who cannot resist my strength. Find the vessels who shall carry us to our salvation, to tear apart the Great Fate things binds us all to submission!”

  Amos felt it, the strength of the Animus Stones coursing through him. He saw the Vaults, crypts beneath the Cathedral of Light, storerooms of the great and powerful, in the depths of the seas, and the darkened halls that few dared to tread.

  He knew where they all were.

  “Your gifts I shall not forget, Lord Sariel.” He turned to leave.

  “Elder Amos.”

  Amos froze and turned back to the dark god. “My lord.”