Darkness Falls (The Dark Series Book 1)

by Steffany Steffensen

  "Now is this necessary?" wondered Gaelen as he entered the room, followed by a knight.

  "Is what necessary, Gaelen? You should know better than to barge in here while the king is busy with his paperwork."

  The older man grunted. He gestured to the man in shiny metal armor behind him and said, "This. This guy keeps following me around. He said it was on your orders."

  "That would be correct."

  "And why, may I ask, did you assign me a bodyguard?"

  Zander stopped what he was doing to stare at his uncle. "He is not your bodyguard. If you were to be in danger, I honestly wouldn't care. But, as you know, I don't have the power to do any harm to you. So I have Irven here to watch your every move since I can't.

  Gaelen snorted. "This is outrageous. My own nephew accusing me of treason, raiding my room only to find nothing, and then placing me under watch over a hunch-"

  The king slammed his palms on the desk as he abruptly stood up. "It is not a hunch!"

  A smirk formed on Gaelen's face. "This will bite you in the ass later, little nephew."

  As the king scowled at his uncle, the older man turned to Irven and asked, "Well, since we will be spending some time together, would you like to have tea with me?"

  Irven stared down at him wordlessly.

  "No?" Continued Gaelen. "Alright, more for me then."

  Zander sat back down on his red cushioned seat with a heavy sigh as the two made their way out of his quarters.

  As Gaelen and his wife lay in bed that night, they stared up at the ceiling and whispered to each other, for Irven was right outside of the door.

  "Is that man ever going to sleep?" questioned the red-headed woman. Without her makeup on, she looked years older.

  "He is probably sleeping standing up."

  "Should I go out there and change his memories?"

  Gaelen turned his head so he was looking into his wife's blue eyes. "No, my dear. You're growing weaker every time you use it. I want you to save it for someone special."

  "Will you finally let me use it on that old man? I've been dying to use it on him, my love."

  "I know," the man said with a toothy grin. "You'll finally be able to. How convenient it is that he is so close to our nephew."

  "And how inconvenient it is that I can't change the minds of royals. Are we going to have him kill Zander?"

  "Now that he is king, yes."

  The next day, as Harold was in his chambers reading a book about sword fighting, a loud knock came from the door.

  "Come in!" Called the old man as he gingerly set his book aside.

  A guard entered the room and said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir. There is an urgent need for you in the prison room. I was told that one of the prisoners are asking for you by name and would like to talk."

  "A prisoner, you say? Why me of all people?"

  "I have no idea, sir. But I was told it was urgent, and your presence is requested immediately. I didn't know what else to do, sir."

  "I know what the word urgent means, boy." Harold slowly got up and followed the guard to the prison room.

  They traveled down flights of stairs lit by the torches lining the wall. As they moved deeper into the dungeon, it got colder. They heard the sound of dripping water in the distance, and the sound echoed through the stairwell. As they started to pass by some cells, Harold could hear the soft sobs of a young man who put himself in a corner with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

  The large wooden door that they approached led to a room that was meant to hold criminals who were to be sentenced to death. As far as Harold knew, there were no occupants. Until now.

  "Don't worry. She's locked up tight. I'll leave you two to talk. If you need me, I'll be behind the door." The guard turned back around and closed the door behind him with the sound echoing throughout the room.

  It was a place of hopelessness. A place where prisoners came to die of one of three deaths, depending on the severity of the crime. A poison that quickly kills you, a knife to the throat, or, in the most extreme cases, public humiliation with a slow, agonizing death. The king could think of a creative way for them to die, or if he couldn't take on the responsibility, it fell to the executioner. Only one person in the Strongwill history has managed to die an agonizing death. Harold was one of the few in the kingdom who were aware of the presence of Magus, and that perhaps there were many still hiding among them. Many years in the past there was a Tenebrae Magus, but as far as the public knew, she was a normal human being. The king, his brother-in-law, sentenced her to a slow dismemberment. Her toes, her fingers, skin, eyes...until she died of blood loss.

  Harold didn't enjoy remembering that day, and it sent chills down his spine as he realized that the monstrous Tenebrae Magus once stayed for a short time in the same room he was standing in before her death.It was cold, dark, felt a bit damp, and smelled strange. There was a small window with bars that let through the dim light of the moon, and the only thing it could illuminate was the rusted silver color of the prison bars.

  "Harold?"

  The female voice that came from the other side of the room was deep and sounded almost hoarse. The man approached cautiously, not knowing what to expect. It wasn't every day that a prisoner asked for a private chat.

  He stopped once he was arm's length from the bars. He heard the woman walking closer, but she didn't step into the light.

  "Who are you?" Asked Harold. "What do you want?"

  "I've been waiting for this day for a very long time. You've always been a pain, but I stayed strong and controlled myself. Now the wait has come to an end with Zander now king. It's such a shame I learned of my powers at such a ripe age, and each time I've used it I grow weaker..."

  "What are you talking about? Is that you, Oria?"

  Oria stepped into the light. Harold watched, baffled, as her eyes glowed a bright blue, lighting up the room. She reached into his mind and started to pull strings like a master puppeteer. His whole view of his beloved nephew changed into something horrendous.

  When the damage was done, both Harold and Oria fell to the floor. The redheaded woman clutched her chest, and she felt almost all her strength drain from her body. She didn't have much left in her to use her powers anymore, and she felt like the next time may be her last.

  Harold gasped for breath as he tried to make sense of all the things going on in his mind. He sat up and slowed his breath. Oria backed away from the light so he wouldn't see her.

  Harold got up and approached the wooden door. The guard opened it quickly.

  "What did she want?" started the guard as he led Harold out of the prison room. "I find it a little strange that I haven't heard any news that links to her being here. I know I just started this job today, but I don't even know her name."

  Harold took the knife that was hidden in his boot and swiftly sliced the young guard's throat. He then cleaned the blood off of his knife by wiping it on the young man's armor before sticking it back in his shoe.

  Oria smiled in the darkness of her cage as a ring of keys were thrown by her feet.

  "My debt has been repaid," started Harold gruffly as he stood in the light of the moon. His face seemed more solemn than it was before. "Don't expect any more favors."

  "Don't worry," replied Oria as she smiled widely. "I won't."

  As Harold climbed the steps, he thought of how he was going to kill his nephew. The wicked young man who has been plotting a mass murder on the kingdom to hunt Maguss. Men, women, and children. He has spent countless days trying to convince him otherwise, but Zander had his heart set on killing innocent people. He couldn't let it go through, even if it meant that he would die as well.

  "Where is the king?" asked Harold as he entered the throne room. The only people there were four guards.

  "He is out training, sir," replied one of the guards without turning his head.

  "Don't do it. Don't listen to him! He is insane!" Harold breath was
short and shaky.

  The guards looked at him with a bewildered expression.

  "S-Sir?" questioned the first guard that responded to him.

  Without another word, Harold stormed out of the throne room. He needed to end Zander's life as soon as possible before he gave the signal. He knew the stories. He didn't want Zander to turn into King Marlow who didn't trust a single soul and started the Eradication. He needed to save the kingdom.

  Outside, the sky was a beautiful shade of light blue. The sun was shining brilliantly, and the wind was only but a small, cold whisper. The training grounds sat on a large plot of green land, and on it were several large white tents with guards coming in and out. Racks were carrying a variety of weapons placed in a haphazard fashion all around the area.

  Harold stood in the middle of it all, looking around for his nephew.

  "Sir Harold?" questioned one of the knights. "Is there something I can help you with?"

  "Zander..." said the older man through gritted teeth. He was tired of this goose chase. "Where is he?"

  "I'm not sure, sir. He left abruptly almost half an hour ago."

  Harold's face turned red. "Don't you fools understand?" he screamed. "You'll be killing innocent people in the process! Mothers! Fathers! Children! Don't listen to my fool of a nephew!"

  Everyone at the training grounds stood still as they listened to Harold's endless screaming. Some looked at each other, waiting for someone to do something.

  Finally, the Captain of the Guards stepped in by placing a gentle hand on the former duke's shoulder. "Harold, please calm down," said the middle-aged man in a soft, gentle tone. His facial features were soft as he looked down at his good friend.

  The older man had enough. They weren't going to listen to him. They were going to go through with the plan as if they were okay with harming people for no reason. He quickly grabbed the dagger that rested in his boot and swished it towards the Captain of the Guard who quickly backed away.

  Guards and knights readied their weapons, all in a defensive stance.

  "Hold!" Cried the Captain as he held his hand up. "Harold, what's gotten into you, my friend?"

  "What has gotten into you, Luke? They're innocent people! Magus or not, what have they done to harm anyone?"

  Harold swiped his dagger once more. Luke dodged before using his right hand to land a blow to Harold's neck. The older man let go of his weapon instantly before falling, but was caught by the captain before landing on the ground.

  Zander sneaked his way through the castle. He dismissed Irven from watching his uncle so that maybe he would be able to catch Gaelen in the act of something horrible. He didn't want any of the staff to know of his location, so he disguised himself as one of the guards, making sure that his face was covered by his cowl.

  The king made his way up the steps towards Gaelen's chambers in the east wing. Guards that he passed by didn't give him as much as a second glance. Once he reached the doors to the bedroom, he stood still, pretending that he belonged there as he strained his ears to hear any noise behind the wooden door.

  Zander wasn't having any luck. It seemed too quiet, but he was sure that his uncle would have to be in his room. The location of Gaelen's wife was unknown, so he had to stay on guard and listen for the sound of her heeled shoes as well.

  Maybe he's sleeping, thought Zander as he pressed his ear against the wood. He heard something strange. It wasn't the sound of talking. It sounded like...crackling. The door, Zander noticed soon after he found a word for the sound, became strangely warm.

  He threw the door open.

  Inside, Gaelen stood facing the open window with the sun shining down on him. His back was facing his nephew, but as soon as the door opened abruptly, he whirled around in surprise.

  But no one was more surprised than Zander. His uncle was on fire, standing on top of the burn mark that Zander always questioned as a kid.

  Gaelen was head to toe covered in bright orange flames that licked back and forth. His amber eyes were bright. The fire around him, seeming strangely contained, suddenly dispersed due to Gaelen's surprise.

  "Boy!" He growled. He held his arms forward. A ball of fire came hurtling towards the king.

  Zander moved out of the way and took cover behind the stone wall. He watched as the flames burst out of the room and hit the glass windows that fractured on impact. A few guards nearby quickly ran over after hearing the commotion.

  Gaelen walked out of the room. He had lost control of his powers and now couldn't get out of his state.

  Zander stared at him, terrified, as did the guards. He had never thought that he would come face to face with a Magus, and he was hiding under his nose the whole time.

  The Magus held his hand up towards his nephew. His face was noticeably contorted in anger. As another ball of flame started to appear, one of the guards stabbed Gaelen's side before jumping back in fear, leaving the sword inside of him.

  Gaelen pulled the sword out without more than a grunt. He slowly turned around. With his nostrils flared, he swiftly moved his right arm to the side. Flames appeared, grabbing onto the guard's clothing as well as the fabric from the curtains and the large rug.

  The Ignis Magus ran back into his room that was already engulfed in flames. Once he got to the balcony, the flames that surrounded him subsided. He gave one final look at his nephew before jumping off.

  "We have to get him!" Cried Zander. When he looked back at the guards, he saw that they were still struggling to get rid of the flames that were slowly consuming them. With time on the essence, he left them and ran down the corridor.

  "What happened?" Questioned a guard that approached. Behind him were several others with their swords in their hands.

  "The castle is on fire because of Gaelen! He's a Magus that needs to be detained!"

  He ran outside with his sword ready. He was going to kill his uncle.

  The knights and guards from the training ground started rushing to the castle once they saw that there was a significant amount of black smoke. Luke left Harold in one of the tents as he joined his men to put out the fire.

  Gaelen quickly ran passed the tents. He didn't expect the day to come so quickly, but he planned an escape route in the woods ahead just in case. If Oria made it out alive, she would know where to find him. Straight through the training grounds was the fastest way, but there were other ways around. With all the commotion going on, guards assumed that he was just trying to run from the fire.

  "No!" Cried the king, swishing his sword from side to side once he saw that Gaelen was ignored. Some guards continued to rush passed him while others slowed to a halt. "Gaelen is an Ignis Magus! Get him!"

  They stared at him the same way they stared at Harold.

  "Idiots!" Cried the king as he pushed passed his guards. A few followed him, worried that he would have their heads if they didn't.

  "Zander!" cried an older male voice.

  "Uncle?"

  Zander slowed down slightly as he came up to his uncle who walked out of a tent. He looked at him as if he was furious.

  "I'm sorry, uncle," started the king. "I'll explain everything later, but I need to catch Gaelen before he disappears. Just stay here and avoid the fire."

  Zander started towards the woods once more, but a sharp pain in his side stopped him. He looked at the dagger, then at his uncle, confused, as he collapsed to the ground. "U-Uncle?" The king looked at the blood on his hand and then back up at the old man who had a sword above his head.

  Before he could plunge the weapon into his beloved nephew's body, one of the guards took their sword and sliced Harold's middle. His blood poured down onto Zander who sat, petrified, on the ground.

  Harold collapsed on his side and laid motionless as blood continued to stain the bright green grass.

  Zander looked up at the sky as he shook. Dark clouds were now looming above him. He shut his eyes and passed out.

  CHAPTER NINE

 
Jenevi, Mace, and Simon continued their journey to the Strongwill City which was still over a week away. The two men didn't stop as much as they hoped they would, but they didn't dare say anything to their leader. It was a cloudy day, but the sun was shining none the less. They ended up taking an alternative route that Jenevi claimed would get to the city much quicker.

  "I'm starving over here," complained Mace so only Simon's ears could hear.

  "I know. I am too," replied the former knight. He pulled out his waterskin and took a long drink of water before looking at Mace with a smile. "I got this."

  Simon rode faster so he could catch up with the Tenebrae Magus. "Hey, Jen?"

  Jenevi didn't respond or even look at Simon.

  "So it's been a while since we've stopped. The city isn't going anywhere, and I need to train Mace. Do you want him to be useless again?"

  The two turned and looked back at their younger companion who turned back with a goofy smile. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but he pretended that they were saying only nice things.

  "Fine," responded Jenevi. "We'll find a good place to camp and then we leave tomorrow morning."

  Simon glanced back at Mace and gave him a thumbs up. The three found a clearing to stop at, and there they all took their stuff down.

  "So what was the deal with the scary orc woman?" asked Mace as he took his boots off. He curled and uncurled his toes, enjoying the fresh air on his smelly feet.

  Simon frowned as he sat on the grass. "If I never left Collis, I would have probably married her."

  Jenevi glanced over at the older man. He seemed as though he had gone through years of hard labor without a break. She almost felt sorry for him.

  "I'll go back for her when this is over," continued Simon. "And when I do, nothing is going to stop me from proposing."