by Alan Scott
Also by Alan Scott
The Storm Series
The Storm Series Trilogy – Available in Paperback or on Kindle
Echoes of a Storm – Book one
Scions of the Storm – Book two
A Dark and Hungry Storm – Book three
The Storm Series – Books of Short Stories – Available in Paperback or on Kindle
Stories for a Storm Filled Night - 9 Short stories
Tales of Solomon Pace – 8 Short stories
The Moonlight Dance - 3 Short stories (Kindle only)
Tales of Salvation and Damnation – 9 Short stories
The Mancer Series
The Mancer Trilogy – Available in Paperback or on Kindle
A Kingdom Falls – Book one
The Midnight Man – Book two
The Y Front Chronicles
The Y Front Series (Sci-fi) – Available on Kindle only
The Y Front Chronicles – Book one
The Y Front Series (Sci-fi) Short stories – Available on Kindle only
The Y Front Standoff
All books and promo stories are available from Amazon. For more information and updates, search Facebook for EchoesOfAStorm or my blog whenpenhitspaper.wordpress.com
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my oldest friend and the inspiration for the Painted Man.
Cover Illustration
The cover illustration is by Saskia Schnell. Her website is www.saskiaschnell.com
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Prologue
Rain
The traveller walked purposefully along the forest path as the wind and driving rain ripped the leaves from the tallest trees. Casting his eyes up to the storm-wreaked canopy, he pulled the collar of his coat farther up around his neck and carried on walking, his cane held by his side.
As the wind and rain grew heavier, he looked around with professional interest. He knew that everything around him was not reality. It had, in fact, been created by the person he was going to visit. It was a make-believe landscape, created to fulfil a deep-seated need. Some people created beautiful beaches, wonderful mountain views, or eternal sunsets or rises, but not him - no, the cold and the rain was more his style.
The traveller continued walking for another five minutes until he reached a cave entrance. Taking a deep breath, he entered the pitch-black cave. The lack of light was not a problem for him and it would certainly not be a problem for the person he was visiting. Looking around, he spied the man he was looking for ten feet away.
The object of his quest was sitting on the floor of the cave, leaning against the wall with one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee. A blanket was wrapped round his shoulders, his head bowed, and his eyes closed.
“The weather - very impressive, by the way,” commented the visitor.
“Do I know you?”
“We had a mutual acquaintance,” replied the visitor as he leaned on his cane.
“Why have you come to disturb my sleep?”
“Your help is required.”
The man raised his gaze and looked at his visitor with piercing blue eyes. “My help?”
“Yes. There is this ...prophecy.”
“There is always a prophecy.”
“Ah, yes, that is very true, but there is a problem with this one.”
“What sort of problem?”
“Mancer’s in it.”
The man let out a laugh. “Well, you are in trouble, then. Mancer is dead.”
“As are you, but that does not stop us from talking.”
“Whatever.”
“Have you heard of the Mancer Prophecy?”
“No, and I don’t want to. All I want is to be left alone.”
“Ah, I see; then you will not care that the Midnight Man has returned.”
Silence.
“You will not care, then,” continued the visitor, “that the Midnight Man has returned and he is stronger than ever. You will not care that he will destroy Talocants and every living thing that dwells upon it. You will not care that the only person who can stop him, according to the Prophecy, is Hubert Mancer, whom, as you quite correctly said, is dead, although, as I said, being dead may not be that much of a hindrance, in the right circumstances. No, the problem is Mancer himself.” The visitor took another deep breath and looked at the nails of his right hand. “Let’s face it - Mancer is, well... an extremely quotidian type of person, and a complete and utter imbecile. How can he stop the Midnight Man?” Straightening and tucking his cane under his left arm, he said, “Think on that,” before turning round and leaving the cave.
The seated man remained unmoving for an hour as the wind howled outside and the driving rain beat down upon the forest floor. Slowly but surely, a mocking smile spread across his lips. “Bollocks if I know what quotidian means.”
Standing, the man walked with a slight limp to the entrance of the cave and looked out at the storm. “Are we not all but echoes of a storm? Maybe it’s time for one last roll of thunder.” With that, he left his cave and once more entered the world of men.
Chapter One
The Midnight Man
The Midnight Man stood at the lectern dressed in his monk’s robes, his hood pulled up. He gazed through the smoky air out into the hot low-lit cavern.
Large incense censers were swaying from the ceiling, their strangely coloured and sweet-smelling smoke causing the Brethren who inhaled it to smile oddly. The flames on the candles that provided the meagre light flickered and danced, creating strange and disturbing shapes that appeared and vanished in the blink of an eye.
“The fools thought I was dead,” the Midnight Man’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, “but they did not know what we know. They thought that I died in that cave. Some thought that love conquered and destroyed me. Some thought that the savage mindless beast slew me. All were wrong.”
“The Midnight Man cometh,” chanted the crowd.
The Midnight Man leisurely licked his lips. “Some thought that I could not survive in the light, but I can survive anywhere, for I dwell in each and every one of us.”
Pausing for effect, he continued, “Yes, my Brethren, rejoice, for I have arisen. The Midnight Man once more walks upon this land!”
“The Midnight Man cometh among us,” came the Brethren-whispered response.
“I have seen our great sect grow from a mere eight devout men led by Brother Philips, to thousands. Then there was the war and the siege of Idris, where we fought valiantly, but were ultimately betrayed by our allies. Many of our brothers and sisters fell and soaked the ground with their heart’s blood.” The Midnight Man again paused before raising his voice. “However, they died with smiles on their faces, for they experienced the full range of emotions and feelings before they died. They were true Brethren. They died well.”
“They died well,” repeated the Brethren.
“Next came Father Jacobs. Ah, Father Jacobs - what far-reaching ideas he had, and with my help and guidance, he secured the safety of the Brethren. He set up a base in this wonderful facility, far from prying eyes, and he created these wonderful creatures - our very own vampyres.” The Midnight Man half-turned and raised his arm to indicate the robed people who were silently standing behind him. “Aren’t they wonderful?”
Silence.
“I SAID AREN’T THEY WONDERFUL!” The Midnight Man turned swiftly to face his followers.
“They are wonderful!” the Brethren quickly chanted.
“Especially as they include in their number my delicate and delightful mother. Hello, Mother.” The Midnight Man turned back to the group of robed people and waved. Joanna Harris waved back at her son.
“Come, stand beside me, Mother.” The Midnight Man beckoned his mother forward.
“Son,” she said as she moved to stand beside him.
The Midnight Man put an arm around his mum and gave her a squeeze, before once again turning to the faithful before him. Taking a serious tone, the Midnight Man looked out over his followers. “There are those outside these walls who think that they are gods - who think that they can control the lives of everyone in this land. They are known as those across the sea and those across the sand, and they have ruled for thousands of years. Thousands of years! Thousands of years! Now, that is far too long a time.” The Midnight Man shook his head. “I will change that, for I plan to kill these gods and replace them with myself.”
“THE MIDNIGHT MAN COMETH!” screamed the crowd.
“I will start by capturing the whole of Talocants and subjecting it to my whim - not quickly, but slowly, like a growing cancer. My servants in the brothels and dens of vice shall infect the great and the good. My armies shall march and conquer all before them. I, my dear and loyal followers, will seek out the instruments of destruction that will kill these so-called gods.
“I make this oath to you, dear followers: I will sacrifice as much as you will sacrifice to fulfil this great and awe-inspiring plan of mine.” Tears rolled down the Midnight Man’s face. “It will not be easy. There will be great difficulty ahead and many, many will die.” With that, the Midnight Man spun, grabbed his mother by the throat, and plunged a dagger into her heart. Digging his fingers in, he ripped out his mother’s windpipe and threw it across the room.
Twisting the dagger, he whispered, “I love you, Mummy.” Joanna Harris’s body spasmed as a look of shock and betrayal shone bright in her eyes. Meeting his mother’s stare, the Midnight Man smiled. “Please, don’t be angry, Mummy.” He rotated the blade one last time before pulling it out, dropping it on the floor, and plunging his hand into the hole in his mother’s chest. Joanna placed a hand on her son’s shoulder as her eyes went even wider.
“Sorry, Mummy,” whispered the Midnight Man as he pulled out his hand, which held Joanna’s broken heart. Stepping back, the Midnight Man let the body of his mother fall to the floor. His tears suddenly gone, the Midnight Man turned to his followers, dropped the heart onto the floor, and grasped the lectern with both bloody hands. “There is no sacrifice too big to be made, no deed too despicable to be done in the drive to fulfil my vision. We will conquer Talocants, we will spread like a cancer across this world, and we will kill the old gods who stifle growth and freedom of expression.”
Looking up, he continued, “For I am the Midnight Man! I am your base emotions, desires, and wants made flesh. I am the one creature that can truly make you free! I AM THE MIDNIGHT MAN AND I HAVE COME BACK TO FREE YOU ALL!”
The hall erupted in cheers and banging, which took a good five minutes to quieten down.
“Now, my friends, you must excuse me, for I am now an orphan and I must grieve for the death of my poor mummy.” Walking slowly away, the Midnight Man indicated to two of the robed vampyre Brethren to pick up his mother’s broken body and bring it with them. The unholy procession left the hall in silence.
***
The Midnight Man’s room - an hour later
The Midnight Man knelt down beside Joanna Harris’s dead body. “Do you think she still loves me?” he asked as he straightened a stray hair on his mother’s head.
“Yes, sire,” replied Miriam Gregorious.
“Why?”
“Sorry, sire?”
“Why do you think she will forgive me ripping out her heart and killing her?” The Midnight Man looked directly at Miriam, his face unreadable.
Miriam looked over silently at Gideon Sandhu for support.
“Do not look at your friend, Miriam,” said the Midnight Man. “I asked you a question.”
Straightening her shoulders, Miriam replied, “Because we all love you and we all are willing to die for you.”
“An excellent answer,” said the Midnight Man as he placed a finger on his mother’s lower lip and pulled it down so he could look at her incisors.
Miriam remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her lord and master.
As he continued his investigation, the Midnight Man asked, “Have you ever heard of the Draken Amulet?”
“No, my lord,” replied Miriam and Gideon together.
“How about God’s Fire?”
“That I do know about,” stated Gideon Sandhu. “It is stored in vials that, when smashed, explode in flames, burning all touched by them. It is particularly dangerous to the Undead.”
“Do you know how to make it?” enquired the Midnight Man.
“No, that secret is only known to a select few in the Church.”
“And now me,” finished the Midnight Man as he continued to stare at his dead mother’s face.
“What?” exclaimed both vampyres.
“I know the secret of God’s Fire,” repeated the Midnight Man, as he reached into an inside pocket and produced a small Craktoneon Bible. “It’s pages one hundred to one hundred and seven,” he continued as he idly tossed it to Miriam.
Miriam quickly stepped to one side, allowing the book to hit the floor. The Midnight Man turned his head and gave a short laugh before saying in a voice that allowed no disobedience, “Pick up the book, Miriam.”
Miriam hesitated a second before reaching down and slowly picking up the book with one hand. Small wisps of white smoke rose from her fingers.
“Warm?” queried the Midnight Man.
“Ye...ess, my lord.”
“Not warm enough to set you on fire, though?”
“No, my lord,” managed Miriam through gritted teeth.
“Good. Then turn to page one hundred and seven.”
Miriam looked towards Gideon for support.
“My lord...” he began.
“Keep quiet!” spat out the Midnight Man.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Now, you stupid slut! Do as I command and turn to page one hundred and seven.”
Forcing herself to hold the book, Miriam turned to page one hundred and seven. “I am there, my lord.”
“What does it say?”
“It says, ‘to make ten units of God’s Fire, you need...’”
“Don’t tell the world, you idiot!” screamed the Midnight Man.
“No, my lord.”
“Now put the Bible away in a safe place,” said the Midnight Man as he returned his attention to his mother.
“A safe place?”
“Yes, as I will want you to make five hundred units of God’s Fire whilst I am away.”
“Where are you going, my lord?” asked Gideon, as he passed Miriam a towel that was hanging over the chair next to him. Miriam nodded her thanks as she wrapped the Bible in the towel.
“I will be going to retrieve the Draken Amulet from my old family in the Star Mountains.”
“You will be going to meet the Chosen,” stated Gideon.
“Not so much ‘meet’, Gideon,” replied the Midnight Man as he stood, “more like ‘destroy’.” Turning, the Midnight Man made his way to a table. “Come here!” he commanded.
When Gideon and Miriam arrived, he pointed to an open map, which lay on the table. “However, before I do anything, we need to start the enslavement of Talocants. We will start the invasion from the Red Coast and slowly spread like a cancer through the land until we have all of Talocants.” The Midnight Man’s eyes burned brightly as he continued. “We shall cause terror wherever we go. Mothers will kill their children out of despair rather than have us capture them. Men will ki
ll their entire families to spare the pain of capture. Out of despair, entire villages will join the Brethren, so that they might be saved.”
“We have a strong army, sire, but can we do as you plan?” queried Gideon.
“Do you doubt me?”
“No, sire. I just cannot see your genius.”
“Ah, ‘my genius’ - I like that, young Gideon. I like that a lot,” smiled the Midnight Man. “My genius is the Brethren. My genius is the Red Bank. My genius is fear.” Looking back at the map, the Midnight Man continued, “Nearly all the whorehouses belong to us, so we can easily spread the pox among the working men, soldiers, and common man. Most of the rulers of these pitiful countries are in debt to the Red Bank and will be in deep shit when we call in those debts or raise the interest rates, due to war. Because of our wealth brought about by the Red Bank, we own most of the farms that supply the food. We own the merchant houses that set the price of goods.”
Miriam’s eyes opened wide with understanding and she laughed, gleefully. “Sire, we have already won!”
The Midnight Man turned to her and smiled. “Apart from one or two small things that need to be done, yes, my dear, we have already won.”
“Hence the slow advance. It will allow us to savour each and every emotion, each and every act of passion, lust, despair, and anguish,” said Gideon in a hushed voice.
“Exactly.”