The Dark Crown

by S C Gowland

  Kaoldan’s eyes searched the two storey properties that surrounded the square, stone structures, painted yellow and white, terracotta roof tiles matching the splashes of colour showing the struggle on the floor and walls.

  It was quiet, too quiet.

  Entering the square, they spread out to cover each corner. Kaoldan looked to Kubrean, sadness swamped his face, he looked older somehow.

  Movement behind a low wall caught Zalen’s attention. His hand gripping his bow tightly as he pulled back the string.

  Again movement.

  A dirty blue scarf popped up from behind a wall and then disappeared.

  A scuffle of feet on sand signalled another glance, longer this time.

  Then a wail pierced the silence, ricocheting around the square.

  A scramble of feet as the blue mess sprinted from behind the wall towards Zalen, soiled leggings and blood-soaked arms whirling as it covered the ground. Zalen almost loosened an arrow, but the scarf came loose and fluttered to the ground, ignored by its owner, ragged haired and terrified continuing her run. Zalen dismounted as she leapt at him and collapsed into his arms, sobbing deeply, babbling inanely.

  Everyone else moved towards Zalen, all dismounting, checking the perimeter; round shields set and Walkerblades in hand.

  ‘Help.’ begged the woman. ‘We must go.’ her face blackened, eyes wide and tearful, searching around her as she cradled in his arms.

  Zalen looked slightly shocked as he held her.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you think happened!’ she snapped breathlessly

  Zalen realised the stupidity of his question. ‘Who?’ he asked calmly. Looking into her eyes.

  ‘Don’t know and don’t care.’ she replied still looking around wildly. ‘We must leave this place.’

  ‘Is there anyone else?’ asked Zalen slowly, she caught his eye, and he asked again. ‘Is there anyone else left?’

  ‘No.’ she said simply, twitching but her ragged breath slowed. ‘Just me. I’ve been alone for days. If there were others, I would have seen them.’

  Zalen looked to Kubrean, who nodded; they had seen enough.

  ‘Come with me.’ said Zalen attempting to stand with the poor woman still clinging to his arm.

  She looked at Zalen and then Kubrean, unsure.

  He nodded.

  Zalen found his feet, picked up his bow and slowly led the shivering woman towards Salah.

  ‘No-one left’ she muttered, ‘all gone. Just me.’ she said almost apologising. ‘I hid.’ she explained, nodding vigorously at Zalen, cowering as she walked, hidden in his arms. ‘I hid.’

  Salah knelt to let the woman, still wild-eyed climb on him. She gripped the pommel tightly, shrinking into a ball of dirt and blood as he rose.

  Salah’s ears pricked up.

  There was a slight whistle and a dull thud. The woman slowly groaned and slumped first forwards then off Salah, a short dark quiver of feathers sticking out of her back as she lay motionless on the ground, a green ghostly orb rose from her body.

  The group raised their shields and looked in the direction the arrow had come from. Kaoldan felt the familiar tingle of Fajin energy building as Kryst narrowed his eyes, he loosened an arrow into the distance, then swiftly another. They sailed through the air into the ruins of a semi collapsed building about 50 metres away. A dark body on the second floor cried out as the arrows hit spinning him backwards into the wall, plaster exploded outward, he then fell limply to the ground with a crash, dust clouding around the body, a blue orb slowly emerged and rose into the sky. Kryst notched another arrow and waited, eyes alert.

  There was a roar from the far side of the square; Walkers and Pantheras alike turned to towards it. Twenty or so robed figures begin streaming into the square through a half-demolished wall by a shop.

  Tall and graceful in flowing black robes, with red armour, it resembled lobster shells, well fitted and overlapping. They were armed with mottled black and red weapons - long daggers, single blade axes and swords. Their long robes flapped as they charged forwards, half helmets covered their human faces.

  Given the numbers Kaoldan and Kubrean automatically made a decision that they had made dozens of times before.

  Moving forwards, they placed round shields on their backs with a metallic clang, their Walkerblades shimmered blue and morphed into double bladed glaive, the traditional weapon of the Walker.

  Six feet long; a three-foot middle handle with two wide blades at either end of about a foot and a half; enabling them to keep enemies at distance but also allowing them to engage multiple opponents at one time. Graceful yet devastating weapons in the right hands, and these weapons were in the right hands.

  The buzz of Fajin building made the hairs on the back of Kaoldan’s neck stand up as they both focused and pulled the energy inside them.

  Dalon hefted his emerald warhammer in his right hand, semi crouching fixing his shield arm in place, a savage grin spreading over his face.

  ‘Come on, you sons of bitches.’ he yelled.

  Yasmina’s face was like stone she morphed her Walkerblade into a wide bladed longsword, shield at the ready, her brown eyes fixed firmly on the robed figures.

  Kryst and Zalen stayed at the rear, bows raised. The air rippled as they unleashed a volley of arrows at the robed figures. Some cried out pole axed or whipped around somersaulting and twisting in the air by the force within the arrows. orbs emerged and rose upwards. Others ducked or stumbled but continued their advance.

  Kubrean and Kaoldan met the advance head on, blades whirling in wide arcs, attempted parries by the soldiers were of little consequence. Walkerblades shattered the swords of the enemy on impact, exploding in showers of glittering steel. The Walkerblades cleaved through the red armour, removing arms, hands and cutting deep into shoulders and heads. High overhead cuts separated limbs from bodies and blood flowed spraying and splattering onto the stones of the square - indistinguishable from the blood spilt in the slaughter of the villagers.

  orbs of every colour rose around them, ascending into the sky. The Pantheras were making short work of a group of soldiers that had attempted to sneak up on them from the opposite side. Growls and roars were accompanied by screams of pain and terror. Dref was wrestling with a dark robed warrior. Kaoldan was going to help, but the familiar grey shape of Tren swiped at the warriors head with one of his huge paws. There was a sickening crack and a red orb had emerged from the corpse.

  The coldness that Kaoldan felt was replaced by a rage, a fury, a fire that rippled throughout his body, but his mind was clear and focused. Striking this way and that, almost without thinking, training and instinct taking over.

  He ducked a savage sword thrust towards his face, thrusting his open hand forwards, the owner of the sword was catapulted backwards crashing into a wall twenty feet away, a splatter of blood decorating the side of the shop, before slumping down into a motionless heap, a purple orb rose.

  The clang of metal on metal rang around the square echoing from the walls and windows; grunts, cries and screams the accompaniment. The initial advance of the robed figures faltered, Dalon charged forwards around the outside of Kubrean, warhammer in hand, swinging the weapon into swords and the robed bodies. There was a sickening crunch as the hammer hit its mark, blood sprayed onto the rich green crystal, a human head twisted to an unnatural angle before the body collapsed twitching. Seconds later more orbs rose around Dalon.

  Yasmina followed around the opposite side as Kubrean and Kaoldan slowly moved forwards in the centre of the conflict, stepping over the bodies of the fallen. Blades swirling and arcing as the enemy line split in two. Arrows whistled passed, fizzing with Fajin energy, bodies doubled up, a head taken clean off with a rattle and a clang, before the torso slumped on the floor, blood oozing out in steady gushes. More orbs emerged and rose upwards.

  Kaoldan saw that nine robed figures remained; no others were now entering the square. He pushed ahead, the fire inside him ur
ged him on. He paused for a second to morph his Walkerblade into two swords, green light shimmered as the battle rage around him.

  He parried an axe cut to his left with his sword then thrust with his right sword into the face of the unfortunate axe owner, it almost cleaved the skull in two, blood, teeth and bone splintered as he savagely twisted the blade, making a strange gurgling noise as the body fell, an orb rose.

  He advanced further forwards.

  Zalen and Kryst’s arrows continued to fly, batting two enemy soldiers backwards with astonishing force, pink and orange orbs rose; victory was near.

  Kaoldan turned to his left and time seamed to slow.

  He saw Yasmina parrying a blow with her shield before delivering an overhand cut which bit into the unprotected head of the sword bearer. What she did not see was the long silver spear and its bearer behind her. Kaoldan did not even have time to shout a warning.

  With one simple thrust the spear exploded into the small of her back upwards through the front of her black uniform, stuck within the armour of her breastplate, blood spraying outward from her mouth like a blossoming flower. An incredulous and confused look appeared on her face as she looked down to see no metal blade protruding from her chest, she dropped her sword which clattered to the floor, her body then her head sagged. Kaoldan shouted and charged forwards, Kubrean turned and his face fell with horror.

  Kaoldan approached as the spear man pulled his weapon free of her body nonchalantly kicking her away, she flopped to the floor with a clatter, motionless. He attempted to jab at Kaoldan with the now free spear, but the move was parried upwards by Kaoldan’s left hand as he slid underneath burying his right sword in the belly of the swordsman. With a flick of his wrist Fajin energy torn the spear man in two. His torso careered off to the side squelching as it hit the floor, the legs staggered then fell forwards, spilling guts and blood onto the ground. Two yellow orbs rose from the body parts, merging into one that then rose upwards.

  The grunts and clangs of metal subsided as Kaoldan reached Yasmina, he grabbed her body seeing the wreckage that had been her back, twisting her around. Nothing moved. She was silent, eyes vacant, gazing into the sky as a purple image of her face and body shimmered then floated upwards.

  Her head slumped backwards, and she was gone.

  The silence that echoed around the square was deafening. It was thick and all consuming, it had descended like a velvet blanket were minutes earlier there had been chaos.

  Kubrean’s hand rested lightly on Kaoldan’s shoulder, his boots crunched midst the debris.

  ‘It’s time we left.’ he said simply.

  Approaching footprints, slightly muffled compared to the sharpness of Kubrean’s boots, caught Kaoldan’s attention.

  He looked up to see the large grey leopard-like panthera May approaching cautiously. Her head was low, and she hesitated as she approached, eyes transfixed on Yasmina’s body. May sniffed the ground before the body and then moved closer, she nudged Kaoldan softly in the chest then pushed her nose into the body of her Walker, softly at first then harder as no response came.

  She looked confused, staring at Kaoldan for an explanation; none came. Kaoldan ruffled the head of the big cat who then slumped to the floor in front of him. Her eyes looking at Kaoldan, up and down, then the body of her Walker. A low yowl gurgled in her throat as she closed her eyes.

  A shout tore through the silence.

  ‘Here!’ shouted Dalon striding forwards before roughly shoving a robed figure to the floor in front of Kaoldan.

  The figure was hooded, but cowered and clutched its arm, the hood twitched around wearily taking in its surroundings. Kubrean moved forwards and yanked the hood backwards, it revealed a shaggy mop of black hair. The owner’s head shrank back into the rest of his robe like a tortoise.

  Kubrean was having none of it and grabbed a big handful of hair drawing the head up; a pale face, dirty, but clean shaven, shied away from him, trying to turn away, but Kubrean twisted the hair upwards, causing the man to cry out.

  ‘Why have you done this?’ roared Kubrean spittle spraying over the man’s face.

  He chuckled lightly to himself, seemingly amused by the question.

  ‘Told to.’ he replied simply, satisfied by his own answer.

  Kubrean was not.

  Gripping the hair tighter he asked again.

  ‘Why…?’ he said.

  A sly smile appeared on the man’s face.

  Kubrean pulled the man’s head up before smashing his heavy fist down on the exposed chin, he bore down on the man.

  The man cowered, raising his hands to protect himself as if sensing another blow. He slowly, uncertainly, looked up blinking rapidly. The blow did not come, and he slowly raised his chin. A long, narrow smile grew, blood smeared across his face from his now split lip.

  ‘He told us to.’ he replied before spitting blood onto the floor, the gob disappearing into the dust of the ground. ‘He told us to and he will do again.’ his head twitched slightly as he spoke. ‘No escape, no mercy.’ he continued face creased with cruelty.

  ‘All unworthy. Filth.’ he said looking upwards. ‘We listen to him and he is coming, getting stronger, waiting until the time is right. Then…’ he let the words hang in the air a distant smile on his face.

  ‘Then what…’ raged Dalon surging forwards.

  He was intercepted by Kryst and Zalen, who held him back.

  ‘Then… what…??’ he repeated struggling forwards.

  ‘Then what.’ asked Kubrean twisting the man’s head firmly to face him, the sound of tearing hair made the man’s face grimace in pain.

  ‘Reng returns…’ he said.

  Kubrean stopped. ‘Reng..?’ he said, his face creased as he puzzled at the man’s answer. ‘Reng has been dead for a thousand years.’ he said shaking his head in disbelief. ‘He’s a myth, a tale told by parents to scare their children to sleep… his soul has been claimed by the Abyss...’

  ‘Really..?’ challenged the man, chin rising, he cackled to himself knowingly.

  ‘Really…!’ said Kubrean, punching him full in the face again.

  He yelped cowering down beneath his hands.

  ‘Utter nonsense...’ Kubrean muttered flexing his gloved hand and shaking his head.

  The man raised his head again cackling.

  ‘You will see...’ he said, twitching behind hands, trying to protect himself from as if sensing another punch. It never came.

  A deep throaty growl behind Kubrean stopped the laughter, the man peered through his trembling hands.

  May approached, teeth bared, her eyes fixed upon the cowering man. Panthera never bare their teeth without good reason.

  She slowly, deliberately approached, her eyes fixed, her paws scratching on the sandy ground.

  She paused and looked at Kubrean.

  He looked back and then up at the group.

  ‘Time, we left.’ he said simply. He looked sadly to towards Yasmina’s body, his head dropped. ‘She comes back with us.’ he said looking at the solemn faces around him. Zalen and Kryst approached her body. Gently and with great care they lifted her.

  ‘If I might carry her?’ came a deep voice from behind them. Dalon stepped forwards hands raised, his eyes moist and glasslike.

  Zalen and Kryst nodded silently.

  Dalon moved, undoing the clasp from his shoulders removing his deep blue cloak he knelt down and placed it over her body, he looked at her face.

  ‘From the stars we came, to the stars we rise.’ he said as he closed her eyes, her face looked at peace.

  ‘From the stars we came, to the stars we rise.’ the group repeated as Dalon slowly cover her face with his cloak.

  As a father might cradle a small child, the big man carefully and tenderly scooped the blue cloak containing her body into his vast arms. He turned and moved towards the other panthera at the entrance to the square. Everyone turned and followed, except May and Kubrean who remained eyes locked on each other.

 
As the group left the square, May glanced at the cowering man on the floor, he looked back terrified, eyes searching this way and that for an escape.

  He scrambled to his feet, boots scraping on the floor.

  May looked back at Kubrean, he reluctantly nodded.

  She turned tracking the man as he lumbered across the square, half falling as he did so, breathing heavily. May looked back at Kubrean and charged.

  Kubrean dusted his hands together then flexed his fingers Yasmina’s Walkerblade shot through the air into his waiting hand.

  He paused for a moment and looked at the blood splatter weapon, his face grim. A simple black rod, now lifeless and ordinary.

  He turned, sniffed and then set off in the direction of the others, as a short horrendous scream echoed around the square.

  They met no resistance, or anything for that matter, on their way out of the Grihr. Decay and death were everywhere, if anything Kaoldan noticed it more on the way out of the square and back down the dusty silent streets: bodies and carnage littered in grass verges, the entrances to houses, shops and buildings - all silent. It was a sobering experience. It had been a long time since he had seen such a sight and on such a scale.

  Death had always been part of the job, something that was just expected and to be dealt with as part of being a Walker. Yet this time it seemed to hit him somewhere else, some place deeper. It was hard to say for certain where – his mind felt shattered - and this concerned him. Perhaps it was the scale; the absolute slaughter and absence of anything left in its wake, but it could also have been because it was so close to Thura. Whatever the cause of the anxiety he knew that there would be consequences, as there already had been.

  He glanced back at May, slowly moving forward with a blue cloak carefully attached to her saddle, it had been turned into a shroud containing Yasmina’s body. The pride that emanated from May as she made her way along the long sandy, stone littered path while surrounded by grasslands was striking to Kaoldan. Beauty and loss all at the same time.

  A whine brought him back to his senses, he glanced at Dref who trotted alongside him. He faced forwards again, his mind swirling - trying to comprehend what had happened over the last few hours, the loss of his colleague, the loss of the villagers, mentions of Reng and the news that they would now have to share with Duke Lomman.