Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  Batrice smiled at that. "I’m so blessed to have such wise children, well at least two of them. Now put me down before you break my ribs, ya big ox."

  Lucian laughed and set her down. Batrice giggled as she gave him another hug, bade him a good night’s sleep, and made her way into her bedroom. Erland, who had been listening to the conversation while sitting in his rocking chair, and smoking his pipe, called for Lucian to come out and join him.

  Lucian went out onto the porch and gave his father a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "I must get some sleep father. I’ve not had much in the past two weeks."

  Erland put his hand atop Lucian’s. "We love you son. You make us very proud. I just want you to know that."

  Lucian squeezed his father’s shoulder again, "Love you too pa. I will see you in the morning."

  Erland patted his hand again and Lucian walked to his room, which he shared with Eliath, who was already sleeping, or at least appeared to be. He knew that Eliath always stayed up and waited for him to fall asleep first, but didn’t know why and after living with the man for so long, he stopped wondering and just let him do as he wished. Lucian closed his eyes and was quickly carried away into the realm of dreams.

  The Pleasant Call of Power

  Six months earlier

  Thousands of men crawled slowly through the long grasslands that stretched out hundreds of yards before the village of Passone. The wind moved through the tall grass, giving the appearance of waves rippling along a green ocean illuminated by the two moons. So bright was this night that soon they would be within sight of the sentries standing lookout on the eight small towers that were spaced apart around the small city wall, but that would not matter. Thaluzont had men stationed at all eight towers, assassins, which could move from shadow to shadow without being seen. He lay in wait, flat against the cool earth, confident that the signal would soon come. Fire bugs flickered around lazily just above the tips of grass. Crickets sang their songs until disturbed by one of the thousand warriors inching along on their stomachs. Thaluzont breathed in the fresh scent of the soil beneath him and the thick bladed grass as they broke under his weight. He preferred the smell of blood. He smiled, knowing that soon the air would be ripe with it.

  †††

  Arthias waited from within the shadows at his tower, watching the guards. Three men armed with sword and shield. He looked up at the two moons and finished his count. With the quiet grace from years of honed skills, he silently moved closer, knowing that the other seven assassins would be doing the same. The first guard never knew what happened as Arthias looped the razor sharp wire around his neck from behind, and with a quick jerk, severed his arteries, tendons, and windpipe. His hand flashed, and a blackened steel blade cut through the air, piercing deep into the second guard’s forehead. He stayed in motion, pulling his short sword free from the sheath on his back and sliced half way through the neck of the third sentry just as the first man's body hit the floor, the thuds from the fallen guards being the only sound made. He retrieved his dagger and sheathed his sword then grabbed the large, shallow, wooden bucket that was used for putting out the tower torch. He covered the flame, smothering it, and watched as the fires from the other seven towers were extinguished almost simultaneously.

  †††

  Thaluzont watched from the front line with his men, all covered in mud and leaves from the field they laid in. His men made no sound, for they knew what would happen to them if they disappointed their leader.

  The torches went out, almost all at once. Thaluzont smiled to himself. The assassins were good at what they did, a price well paid. He stood and charged for the gate without uttering a single command, and his men, who watched him intently, followed his lead without a sound.

  Passone was not the largest of the northern cities but it was one of the proudest and had refused allegiance to Thaluzont. Their warriors where known to be fierce fighters. That is why Thaluzont wanted to make an example of this tribe. All would hear of this and know the price for refusing his generosity.

  He and his men charged into the village through the gate that was now opened by his assassins. Thaluzont waited until nearly half of his force was inside the city walls before letting out a scream that echoed through the alleyways and off the mud walls of the huts. The rest of his force heard the battle cry and began screaming out their own as they rushed through the city. Some of the Passone villagers were in such shock at the commotion that they came stumbling out of their huts unarmed. They received no mercy and were cut down quickly. Those that maintained enough of their bearing to arm themselves before running out to face the threat were slaughtered just the same. Not a single villager was spared, man or women. The children were gathered together and placed in a wagon to be carried far north to the mountains. Thaluzont had plans for them.

  One of the Passone warriors must have picked Thaluzont out as the leader and charged in at him from hiding, hoping to quickly end this brutal attack on his people by severing the head of the serpent. Thaluzont saw him coming and made no move against the attack. The warrior’s blade shattered when it contacted Thaluzont’s armor and he stood motionless, staring at the useless hilt of his weapon. His shock was multiplied tenfold when Thaluzont snatched him up by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one arm, and seemingly no effort. The warrior knew only helplessness and terror as he looked into the black voids that were Thaluzont’s eyes a moment before his neck snapped.

  The women who weren’t killed instantly regretted as much. They were passed among the force for the warriors to have their way with. The men were not gentle, and the women would soon die from the multiple injuries they incurred during the repeated rapes. Once dead, they were only used a few more times before their bodies were left mangled in the mud. Word would be sent to the surrounding cities and villages about what happened to Passone. People would send scouts to see for themselves. Soon all would know of the carnage that Thaluzont, and his horde, brought with them.

  †††

  Most of the northern tribes already knew of Thaluzont. Three years ago there was an uprising in the small northern village of Menek. The Headman was killed, along with his family, and the village was burned to the ground. Three hundred warriors left the village that day under the banner of a man named Thaluzont. His story spread quickly.

  He had been raised in Menek, adopted by a loving family, a good family. No one knew who his birth parents were or where he was from, but they all knew that there was something different about the child. When he was in his early youth a man from Menek, his own uncle, came to his home. The uncle killed Thaluzont’s father and raped his mother while he watched from the corner of the hut, his uncle smiling at him all the while. Thaluzont could not comprehend how the Great Father could have let this happen to his family, leaving him to fend for himself on the streets. His body grew strong and his mind became poisoned over the years. He grew up with a pure hatred for the Great Father that his adopted parents had taught him about, and vowed to punish all believers. Some spoke of a pact that he made with Dar' Lahnrael, Lord of the Fallen.

  They said that when Thaluzont was but fifteen years of age, he had already come to power within another tribe who revered strength, and supremacy over all other traits and in these Thaluzont was unmatched. They say he hunted down his uncle and slit his throat, then filled a cup with his blood and drank it, pledging his soul to Dar’ Lahnrael. He then removed his uncle’s head, boiled off the skin and took it to a blacksmith where he had it coated in iron and worked into a large armored shoulder pad, a constant reminder to his followers, on how he treated betrayal.

  †††

  Now, fifteen years later, Thaluzont stood in the middle of Passone as it burned to the ground, soot covered his face and the smell of smoke, and charred corpses filled his lungs. His Commander General approached, bowing his head low, making Thaluzont appear even larger than he already was. He looked over General Tavar, a shorter, yet very powerfully built man, with an ugly scar stretching a
cross the side of his head and down his neck. His left ear was cleaved in two. Tavar had earned his rank among Thaluzont’s army.

  In a contest of strength, skill, and savage brutality, set forth by Thaluzont to select his officers, Tavar had killed fifteen of the strongest soldiers in one day to become Commander General. Thaluzont liked the man for that reason but showed him only the slightest bit of respect. If Tavar lifted his head for even half a breath while in Thaluzont’s presence, he would take it clean off. And no one doubted this for Thaluzont had done exactly that, many times since his rise.

  Occasionally and often brought on by an inebriated and thus foolish state, one of his officers would think to challenge Thaluzont, but none could match his speed or power. Many said that such power was inhuman, believing that the Fallen Lord had granted him such. No one ever lasted longer than Thaluzont wished. The last general that thought to challenge him suffered horribly. Thaluzont decided that he wanted to toy with him, spilling his intestines and cleaving off his limbs one at a time, than his ears and nose. The late general would pass out and Thaluzont would have his witches revive him so that he could continue with the torture. No one has challenged him since, the most ruthless leader that Los has ever seen. Men feared him so much that he was treated as a God. They followed him out of utter fear, but with great devotion. Evil men from the northlands flocked to him and his cause. He was power, sweeping the land, and they wanted a piece of that power.

  Commander General Tavar stood with his head bowed, waiting for his Lord to speak. Tavar was the only man who could stand before Lord Thaluzont. All the other officers must kneel on one knee with their head bowed and beyond that, anyone else in his presence must be on both knees with their heads touching the ground.

  "Your report?" asked Thaluzont. His deep, gravelly voice was always low, almost a whisper, yet it seemed to echo around the decimated village.

  Tavar never brought his eyes away from the blood soaked ground. "All the men are dead my Lord. The children are on their way north and only a few women still survive."

  Thaluzont could hear the screams of those few women, coming from the camp outside of the village. His face showed no emotion. "Kill them tonight, in the morning we move to Oharna."

  Tavar bowed lower. "Yes my Lord, I will see to it myself."

  He backed away with his head bowed until he was a dozen paces from Thaluzont, than he spun and trotted off to the camp, pulling free an impressive jeweled dagger. Thaluzont followed Tavar with his eyes. He was pleased with the General and his desire to see things through personally. He had placed the right man at the head of his army. After Tavar disappeared among the tents, Thaluzont’s dark eyes slid across the horizon, stopping in the direction of Oharna, then slowly closed as he listened to his Master's words.

  The Fall of an Emperor

  Shanbo, the emperor of Vorea, walked through his private gardens, admiring the many rare flowers that were in bloom. Vorea was the largest and strongest tribe on the continent of Los and was very rich. All of the trade routes ran through Vorea making it the trading capital of Los. Even though the people called him Emperor he had no dominion over the other tribes. It was simply a traditional title that the ancient race held on to. The Emperor sent word to all the markets about his wife’s love for rare flowers. The merchants searched all over the continent, relentlessly, for any they could find in hopes to hold favor with the emperor. Shanbo presented all the flowers that came into the city as a gift to his wife Neisha, but he also enjoyed walking through the gardens and taking in their beauty.

  He had just sent one of his war councilors away, after discussing the growing problem that was the uniting northern tribes. More and more whispers filtered south of a tyrant named Thaluzont and his growing power. Now Shanbo was just trying to relax a bit before he retired to his bedchamber where Neisha would be waiting for him, hopefully wearing something exciting.

  Shanbo walked through the garden every night. It was the only thing that would clear his mind. Here he could find that quiet inside, like his ancestors before him, and his own warriors would do before battle. He found his favorite stone bench by the pond stocked with albino trout. Lilly pads were scattered across the top of the pond, some with beautiful flowers blooming. A frog chirped, its song echoing about the garden's ten foot high walls that enclosed it. This was his sanctuary, a place he felt safe in, where noise from the outside bounced off those walls and kept him in peaceful, secluded silence. It was not as tranquil as the waterfall he would often take his daughter to, but it was safer, especially in these dark times.

  And so it was that all-consuming silence of the garden that allowed him to hear the soft whisper of a blade clearing its scabbard behind him. He spun, unsheathing his own short sword, whipping it around at neck level. The Voreans were dedicated to the mastery of the sword, and being emperor, Shanbo had years of practice and was renowned for his prowess with a blade. He thought himself lucky that he heard the silent mistake of the assassin, he was sure his blade would slice true and the assassins eyes would be wide with shock as his head rolled form his shoulders. But as he spun, his blade cut only air. Panic and doubt assailed him.

  Where did he go, was the question in his mind when his knees started to go weak. The emperor looked down as he felt a burning pain in his stomach. He was amazed to see his beautiful gold, black, and jade tunic cut open and part of his intestines hanging out of a large slice in his abdomen. He was amazed yet again to see the tip of a sword explode through his chest below his sternum. How? His thoughts trailed off to his wife, a tear ran down his cheek and his last breath was sucked from him as the blade was pulled free. His lifeless body splashed into the pond.

  †††

  Neisha was lying in bed waiting for her husband to join her. She was smiling to herself about what she planned on doing to him when he finally did arrive.

  "What is keeping that man, he usually doesn’t spend this much time in the garden,” she whispered to herself, trying to find comfort in the sound of her own voice, suddenly feeling very uneasy. She tried to right her mood. She didn’t want her husband to come into their bedchamber after his meditation only to find her all out of sorts. She smoothed out her silky nightgown that was so thin it left nothing to the imagination, but she couldn’t shake the troubled feeling that she had. She wrapped up in one of their blankets, to try and warm herself from the sudden chill she felt. When the stopper on the door to their chamber slid halfway open, she jumped from the bed, heading for the door.

  "Well it’s about time! I was..." Her voice trailed off as she closed in on the door, the stopper didn’t move further, it was still only halfway open. She heard a soft thump on the door and paused for a moment, but her curiosity took hold so she reached out and slid the stopper the rest of the way.

  The heavy wooden door creaked open slowly, and her son was standing in the open portal. He was in his fifteenth year, and already he was becoming quite the young warrior. She almost reached out to embrace him, but something about his posture was strange. He seemed to lean forward, and as his face came out of the shadows, it was twisted into a gruesome expression of death. She started to scream but his body fell onto her, toppling them both over. She was so overcome with fear that she couldn’t make a sound. Her son’s body was lying on top of her, his life’s blood dripping from his mouth onto her beautiful silk nightgown. She tried to scream but still she could only gasp.

  Suddenly her son seemed to stand up, lifting from her. She thought that maybe he wasn’t dead after all, until she saw the horrible gash across his throat. His body slumped down to the ground beside her and a slim shadow stood in its place. She wondered briefly if it was her son’s very soul staring down at her. But then she saw the twinkle of light blue eyes and the apparition seemed to take form. The figure was covered in black, leather armor. Its head was concealed in a black hood and mask. Its eyes seemed to glow blue now in contrast to the darkness around them.

  The shadow’s icy gaze looked down the length of her body a
nd back up to her face where they locked on to hers. She was terrified of those eyes, they seemed to cut through her, paralyze her. She thought of her son, and she realized that her husband must already be dead. She tried to scream but was cut short as a glimmer of steel flashed by. She tried again but heard only a bubbling wheeze escape her throat. Her vision started to blur as she felt the warm liquid running down her neck and chest. Her head settled down onto the blood slicked floor. As her vision faded to complete blackness, those blue orbs of icy death were still looking down at her.

  †††

  A rooster crowed as the first rays of light from the sun filled the sky above Vorea. Minutes later, a shrill scream echoed throughout the city. The handmaiden to the emperor had just brought in the tea and toast for him and his wife. She was still screaming, huddled in a corner when the imperial guard ran into the room. There, on the floor, was Neisha, the empress of Vorea. She and her son, Yintao, lay in a pool of their own blood. The emperor and his wife were loved dearly by their people, some of the guards stood in shock while others began to weep. One guard ran down the hall of the palace, sobbing as he rushed off to find Tossindoo, the High Commander of the Imperial guard.

  Tossindoo entered the Emperors chamber moments later. Some of the guards were still having a hard time keeping themselves together after witnessing such tragedy. A lieutenant, Yoshin, reported to him.

  "Commander, the emperor’s body was found floating in the pond of his private garden. No trace of the assassin was found." The shook officer looked to Neisha and Yintao and swallowed hard. "It is as if they were killed by a specter."