Omylia sat upright in her chair when the sound of footsteps approached. She rested her arms on both armrests and crossed one leg over the other. She turned her head upward towards the large doors of the great hall and smiled with an inviting grin.
The doors burst open with a gust of wind, as though a storm had blown through the castle. The wind howled as it pushed itself through the room, extinguishing the flickering flames of any candles that were in its path. Omylia screamed as the wind blew over her, carrying with it a chill that instantly made her flesh crawl. She instinctively raised her hands above her head, trying desperately to shield herself from the cold air.
Through the doors came two riders, still seated in the saddle, guiding their black steeds through the castle. They moved with ease, as though they were ghosts floating through the air. There was, in fact, something ethereal about them. Omylia could see neither of their faces, but she could see glowing eyes burning beneath their hoods. Plumes of steam jutted out from their hoods as they breathed. The wind seemed to blow around them and did not touch them. Even their horses’ eyes burned with a red glow.
They pulled on the reins and stopped their horses simultaneously. Both swung their legs over the saddle and dismounted, then hastily walked the rest of the way to the throne where Omylia sat shaking. Both horsemen drew their swords and Omylia stood, trying to flee from her attackers
The first sword was thrust into her belly, just below her navel. She gasped breathlessly from the pain and doubled over as the sword was withdrawn. Fresh, hot blood spilled from the wound and coiled around her arms which she had wrapped around herself.
Omylia fell to her knees in pain and she gasped for breath but could not fill her lungs no matter how hard she tried.
The second horsemen stepped close to her and rested the edge of his sword at her neck. She watched in terror as he pulled the blade away then swung down with all his strength. She felt the sting of the blade as it sliced through her delicate flesh. And though she should have been dead, Omylia was fully aware of her head lopping away from her shoulders and rolling onto the cold floor.
Omylia screamed. She sat upright in her bed and grasped at her neck and head to find both intact. She reached down quickly and fumbled with the blankets until she could see her belly and the lack of a sword wound.
Omylia sat still for a moment, breathing heavily into the fresh morning air. She closed her eyes and tried her best to calm her rapidly beating heart.
Then the headache set in. It shot up from the back of her head where the skull meets the spine and all the way to the front, pounding with ferocity behind her eyes. She winced in agony and grasped her temples, applying a slight pressure in order to lessen the pain.
A vision, she realized.
Omylia had had visions before but none had ever been quite so vivid.
What could it mean? She wondered. The vision had truly disturbed her. Two black riders approaching- two omens of death.
When the pain in her head became less severe, Omylia lowered her right hand and placed the palm of it over her belly.
Could it be true? She wondered as she gently rubbed at the unscathed flesh below her navel.
It was sometime later, after the sun had risen completely, that Omylia stood from her bed and dressed herself. She quickly ran a comb through her matted hair and rushed down to the great hall where she knew her two guests would meet her. She waited patiently for them to arrive and she was prepared to wait all day; not knowing when they would come.
She ordered a servant to bring breakfast to her on her throne. Then a few hours later, she ordered lunch to be served in the same fashion. It was only a few moments after she finished the last bite of her salted pork that the horns outside blew, alerting her to the arrival of guests.
Omylia quickly sent her plate away and sat up taller in her throne, not wanting to give any guest the impression that she was afraid.
The doors to the great hall were thrown open, only this time, there was no a gust of wind that followed, nor were there two dark men on black horses.
It was her Lord husband, Guyon and his Protector Josef who entered, still dressed in their chainmail and boiled leather. Their swords were both sheathed and strapped to their sides. Hopefully, that is where they stay, Omylia thought as the two men approached. She hoped Lord Guyon had not noticed the slump in her shoulders as he entered the great hall.
So Hanley failed in ridding me of him. She strained her neck to look behind Lord Guyon. And where is Hanley?
Lord Guyon and Protector Josef stopped at the foot of Omylia’s throne. She only just noticed the large, wooden crate that Josef carried in his arms as they stood before her.
“You have returned.” She said, trying to force some sort of relief into her voice.
“Aye.” Lord Guyon said in cold reply. “Does that surprise you?”
Omylia stiffened at his words. She leaned back in her chair and placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She tried her best to read Lord Guyon’s thoughts but being as shaken as she was, it was difficult to concentrate on anything. She decided to change the subject.
“Was your campaign in Axendra successful?”
“It was.” He replied with the same flat tone in his voice as before.
Omylia was almost afraid to ask her next question but she knew that she had to.
“And where is Protector Hanley? Has he returned with you?”
“Of course he has.” Lord Guyon replied. He turned to Protector Josef, who stepped forward and opened the lid to the crate he carried. He turned the wooden box over and let its contents fall to the floor.
Omylia was hardly aware the scream that filled the great hall was her own. She jumped from her throne and backed away from Hanley’s bloodied head that had fallen at her feet. Several of the maids jumped as well. They turned and hastily left the room, not wanting to have any part of what was about to happen.
“How…” Omylia could not quite form the words she wanted to say. “Why?” She managed to croak as she looked back to her husband.
“I heard the two of you conspire against me before we left for Axendra. You ordered him to kill me!” Lord Guyon shouted and Omylia suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to flee. She turned and ran for the nearest door but Protector Josef was on her before she could reach it.
“Let go of me!” She shouted and she tried to struggle away from him but Josef’s grip was firm and she stood no chance of escaping.
Lord Guyon narrowed his eyes as Josef pulled Omylia back into the room.
“You will be taken to the tower and locked away until you stand trial for your treason.” He stepped forward and looked to her with regretful eyes.
“I was not asking you to love me.” He said in almost a whisper. “But I thought you and I would have made great partners. Our two northern cities would have been the most powerful in the entire realm, but now you will not have a chance to enjoy the benefits our alliance will bring.”
Lord Guyon turned his attention back to Josef and nodded his head. “Take her away.”
Protector Josef began pushing Omylia forward but she struggled against him with all her strength.
“No! Please, wait! I am with child!” She began to sob. Protector Josef stopped and turned back to Lord Guyon who stood dumbfounded in the center of the room.
After the news settled in, Lord Guyon asked; “is it true?”
“Yes!” She replied between sobs. She reached up and wiped the tears away with the sleeve of her gown and took a small step towards Lord Guyon. Josef would not allow her to go any farther.
“How do I know the child is mine and not Hanley’s?” He asked with anger.
“The child is yours, I know it.”
“How can you know something like that?”
“I am a Sorceress. I know the child is a boy and it is yours.” She stepped forward once again, trying to reach out to her husband.
“Forgive me.” She begged. She grabbed hold of his sleeve a
nd felt Protector Josef’s grip on her loosen. “I was blind with greed but now I see the error of my ways. Please forgive me! Let me live, and I shall give you more sons.”
Lord Guyon stood for a moment looking down to her with consternation. He suddenly became unaware of what to do with her. He highly doubted that the child was his but if there was a small chance it did belong to him, he could not execute her whilst it grew within her womb. On the other hand, if it was not his, he was still not willing to end its life before it even began. After all, it was not the child’s fault that it was fathered by a worm such as Hanley.
Lord Guyon opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of the horn warning them of an approaching rider.
Omylia gasped in fright and stood upright. Her eyes darted towards the great hall’s doors and she waited for them to burst open once more.
“The second rider.” She whispered, mostly to herself. Lord Guyon looked to her in confusion but quickly looked away as the doors opened and several men in brown leather and black cloaks entered.
Lord Guyon smiled at the familiar faces that filled the hall. He stepped away from Omylia to greet his personal guard he had left behind in Elipol.
“Welcome!” He shouted in greeting. “What brings you men here?”
Stanley Hanecock, Captain of his personal guard, stepped forward with a bow then began with a reply.
“We have come on Lady Patrice’s orders.”
Lord Guyon smiled at the name. “And how is my dear sister?”
“She is well.” Stanley said. He turned abruptly and motioned for the others to bring something forward.
It was a man, small and frail, they shoved through their ranks. He stood before Lord Guyon and trembled, as though he was afraid to be in his presence.
It took Lord Guyon several moments of studying the frightened man’s face before he realized who it was.
“Protector Merek?” He asked in surprise. He barely recognized the man.
Merek had always been a strong, proud man, exuding a confidence that would make any man uncomfortable in his presence. But now he was feeble and weak and seemed to be having difficulty looking Lord Guyon in the eyes.
“What has happened?” Lord Guyon could see the man had clearly suffered some sort of trauma.
“Shadows.” Merek whispered. Suddenly, he collapsed but the men around him caught him.
“Take him to that chair.” Lord Guyon pointed to an empty chair sitting against the wall of the great hall. They shuffled him over and let him fall into the chair in a heap.
Lord Guyon gazed down at Protector Merek in utter bafflement. He could not imagine what the poor man had been through.
“He came to Elipol after Hely had turned him away.” Stanley told Lord Guyon. “Your sister thought it prudent to send him here so you can become aware of the situation.”
“What situation?” Lord Guyon asked.
“Tyos has been destroyed. All its citizens are dead.” Stanley turned his eyes to Merek with sympathy before continuing. “He is the only one who made it out alive.”
Lord Guyon looked back down at the ruined man before him. He leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Merek’s shoulder.
“Tell me what happened.” Lord Guyon coaxed.
It was Lady Omylia who replied. Lord Guyon had practically forgotten all about her until her voice rang in his ears from behind.
“Flame and shadow now rule in Tyos. Where once there was life, nothing remains but death. And the dead have risen. They walk in shadow, blind and hungry for vengeance.”
All the men spun around to stare at the Sorceress as she spoke. Her eyes did not look at any of them. They looked beyond the men in the room, as though her soul had been spirited away in some dream but her physical form remained.
“The darkness that was once defeated has now returned. It has grown in strength and is coming out of hiding.”
“Darkness?” Protector Josef asked in confusion. “What is she talking about?”
Suddenly, Omylia screamed. Her body jolted forward and she fell to the floor. Lord Guyon and Stanley raced forward and turned her to her side. The rest of the men all congregated around her, curious to see what happened to her.
Lord Guyon placed his hand on her cheek and felt it was cold. He could sense that she was conscious but unaware of their presence.
“Omylia!” He shouted, trying to wake her from her trance.
Her mouth gaped open and the words she spoke then were so soft, Lord Guyon had to lean forward in order to hear them.
“Shadows walk amongst us…” Her voice trailed off and she went limp in Lord Guyon’s arms. He knew she had lost consciousness and he cursed under his breath.
“What did she mean by the darkness?” Lord Guyon asked, turning his eyes upward at his men, hoping one of them would provide him with an answer.
Protector Merek looked up to the men in the great hall and for the first time since his arrival, he spoke with some clarity- “she means the ‘dark one’. The Lord of Death has returned.”
Epilogue
The Curse of the Four Watchers
Part Two
Faine
“Get those men back inside and seal the gates!” Faine shouted to his officers. All ten of them obeyed at once, rushing off to alert the men to fall back into the city.
Faine stood as close to the gate as he possibly could, peering out through a peephole at the mess that lay before him. Bodies had been strewn about as though they were garbage that had been tossed aside. Some were his men and some belonged with the enemy but in the chaos, it was difficult to decipher between the two.
“My Lord!” He heard from a distance. He turned his head quickly towards the sound of the voice and was greeted with the grisly sight of what used to be his Captain.
Captain Hobart stumbled wearily towards Faine. From the looks of him, he had been dragged through the Shadow Realm and back- his hair was matted and caked with blood, his left eye was swollen shut and had turned the color of a plum, both his ears bled- the blood dripped freely onto his shoulders, staining his boiled leather. And his leather… it had been torn and shredded away as though the shadow walkers had tried to rid him of his armor.
Their strength grows. Faine realized with fear.
Captain Hobart, though forced to limp from a deep cut above the knee, quickly made his way to Faine and when he was close enough for Faine to hear his words, he stopped and leaned forward, trying desperately to catch his breath.
“My Lord, scouts have spotted a massive horde of shadows moving westward into the forest.”
“They are making for the castle!” Faine said, angry that he had not realized the gates had been a diversion.
Faine looked up at his tired and bloodied men. They came stumbling back through the gates, eager to escape the enemy onslaught. He wished he did not have to order them forward but he knew he had no choice.
If the castle is overrun, it is over.
“Close the gates!” Faine shouted as the last of his men re-entered the city of Axendra. The great portcullis began to swing shut with a loud creak as rusted hinges were pulled. Faine could now see the shadow walkers that had pursued his men. They stopped short of entering the city and stared in with their cold, dead eyes as the gate was closing- not daring to enter enemy territory.
They were not ordered to enter. They were ordered to distract us.
Faine spun quickly on his heel and made for his horse. He climbed into the saddle and drew his sword all in one stride.
“Make for the castle! Form a perimeter! The shadows will be descending from the forest!” Faine saw the alarm grow immediately on his men’s faces as he shouted these words and they all searched for their horse or any horse that was nearby and followed him through the empty streets.
The people of the city had rushed to their homes in panic and had locked themselves inside. Faine could see their frightened eyes peering at him through the windows as his host rushed past them.
T
hey should be afraid. Even the bravest of men were frightened of the shadow army. It was not an army of ordinary men that invaded- it was an army of corpses, raised from the grave. It was an army of his fallen brothers and innocent citizens who had been slaughtered as their homes had been invaded- any that the Lord of Death had been able to get a hold of. And as Amag’mar pushed his forces south through Kaena, his army grew.
Faine was well aware they were greatly outnumbered, and each soldier he lost was another added to the enemy host. No matter how much they seemed to push the shadows back, they advanced with double the force.
But Faine fought on- for three years now he had fought with no end in sight. He had recently struggled against the shadow walkers in Hely until there was no hope left and he ordered his men to flee to Bhrys. They fought the shadow walkers in Bhrys after they followed them there. That battle had taken months to come to an end. He and his men protected the city for as long as they could but the shadows forced their way in. His forces holed up inside the castle, keeping the enemy out. Thankfully, Faine had ordered the citizens of Bhrys to leave before Amag’mar’s army made it to their borders. The people of Bhrys had been safe in Axendra long before the enemy arrived.
They had had enough provisions to last for two months inside the castle and the walls of the fortress were thick and impossible for the enemy to penetrate. But it soon became clear to Faine that he and his men needed to escape- and so they did.
They had had no other choice but to rush through the enemy head-first. It was a bold move and one that Faine regretted terribly. Though he could not have possibly waited any longer for the King to send reinforcements, he wished he had come up with a better strategy.
More than half his men fell in Bhrys as they tried to flee and now they had returned to the battlefield, fighting for the enemy instead.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 43