Take the Darkness...: Epic Fantasy Series (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 2)

by Julius Schenk

  ‘Alright, boys?’ He said to Flint and Stone, and they just nodded.

  ‘Okay... we’re a few hours clear of the Keep and all is well, so we’ll be at Pellota by nightfall, and then change into something a bit more fitting for the town. Flint and Stone, you’ll stay with the gold. People will notice you no matter what you’re wearing. Let’s try and find these Bastards.

  Elizebetha walked through her apartments in the Keep and wondered how things had gotten this bad. Outside of the Keep’s walls was the armed force of the Duke, being led by his more than capable wife, and within were 100 loyal to her and 200 or so hired to protect her. Now, their only hopes of salvation rode in a covered wagon with the one called Goldie, who in her mind was the most unreliable of Seth’s four. She trusted them all while Seth was there to keep them in awe, but now he was gone, how quickly would they start to wonder if fighting on the losing side of this battle was a good idea? Her heart had never been in fighting, and already since she’d joined forces with Seth, she’d seen things that she’d never be able to forget.

  After the rift had closed on that terrible creature and she’d been left with the Northmen, they knew they would have to seek reinforcements. Her own contacts in the courts and other Dukes of the land where all but gone. She’d been travelling for more than fifty years, and no one knew her at all. They knew her brother Renton, though, and wouldn’t look too favourably on the fact that she’d had him killed, whether she was the rightful ruler or not. He’d always been the one who was good at meeting people, attending weddings and sending gifts, all the things that keep noble alliances open. Even as a child, she’d ignored the family events to sit in her father’s study and read. Black Rock was always a joke of a Dukedom. No one thought of it since it produced next to nothing to trade, and even the township it made up was tiny. That was the reason someone was able to lay siege to it with only 1000 men. Most dukedoms had a standing force of nearly triple that.

  If their hope was travelling in that wagon, she’d need her own agent along with them, and that’s why she’d found the redhead girl, Josette. She was exactly what Elizebetha needed. When she walked into her apartments, Elizebetha could see her young bright, jade-coloured eyes were red from tears which she tried to hide. The girl bowed as she entered the plush room.

  ‘You asked for me, Duchess.’ She said in a quiet but strong voice.

  She smiled at the girl and ushered her to sit next to her on the velvet chaise lounge. ‘I did, my girl. I need your help,’she said.

  The girl was clearly surprised. She thought of herself as nothing more than one of the many in the archers’ line, but she had something much more valuable right now: loyalty.

  ‘I was born to serve,’ she said with a nod of her head. Elizebetha winced at her choice of phrase. ‘I was born to serve’ was what they were trained to say in the pleasure houses. It was a hard habit to break, even for those who had gained their freedom. While the sweet redhead girl might look young and even a bit weak, Elizebetha sensed steel inside of her, and when Dagosh had told her how he had come to buy her and then set her free, she knew she’d chosen right.

  ‘Do you know what’s happened to Sir Seth?’ Elizebetha asked.

  Josette looked as if she might cry, but then held herself strong. ‘Some say he’s dead, some say he’s gone to find reinforcements, and some say he’s abandoned us,’ she said in reply.

  ‘And what do you think?’

  ‘I think the Duke did something to him, tricked him somehow, he would never abandon us.’

  ‘You’re right and wrong. He would never abandon us, but he left because he had to save us. Now he won’t be able to come back for a long time, but he and I still need your help.’

  ‘Of course, I owe him my life debt,’ she said with passion, clearly feeling such a wave of relief that he still lived.

  Elizebetha laughed lightly at the girl’s emotion: oh, to be young again. ‘But you’re a Pellosi and don’t follow the Northern ways of life debts.’

  ‘I’ve been washed in the old waters,’ she said.

  This was an incredible turn. Elizebetha had thought the girl might help because she clearly was infatuated with Seth, the strong young man who had saved her, but for her to say she’d actually taken up the old North religion was not what she’d expected.

  ‘Really, and by who?’ Elizebetha asked.

  ‘There is a young Northman in our troop whose mother was a wise woman, and after Sir Seth saved me, I asked him to perform the ritual. It was probably wrong, but I don’t care. He said their gods care more about intentions than the correct words anyway.’

  From what she knew of the Northern people, that was true. To be washed in the old waters was to basically have your head covered in water three times as you confirmed your commitment to the gods of blood, battle, and valour. It was more harsh than it sounded, as blood also meant family and kin, battle was fighting or working for the good of the folk, and valour meant personal pride in your behaviour, and achieving fame and honour.

  ‘That’s a noble commitment, and now I know you’re the right one.’

  ‘What do you need of me?’ Josette asked.

  ‘We’re extremely outnumbered, and within the hour the Northmen and two of my guards will be going to Pellota in secret, to try to recruit more men. I don’t entirely trust Goldie, Seth’s second, and entirely don’t trust the men they want to hire to fight.’

  ‘Who are they trying to hire?’She asked.

  ‘The Red Bastards.’ Elizebetha replied.

  When she said the name, the girl shuddered, and when she looked back Elizebetha saw real fear in her eyes. ‘You’re right not to trust them, they are animals; better to be slaughtered than to involve them – they’ll take your money and then fight for the Duke.’

  ‘You know them?’She asked.

  ‘They often use their profits to buy pleasure houses, and they are the worst ones in every city.’

  ‘More than ever then, I need allies I can trust. I need you to reach the King with this note,’ she said, handing Josette a small leather satchel that contained the letter she’d written. ‘It’s my hope he knows nothing of this attack by the Duke and will send some force or decree to put it to an end.’

  ‘But the King is in Pelloss city, and I’ll never make it in time,’ she said nervously.

  ‘You just get it to a King’s courier in Pellota: my name should still be strong enough for them to convey it to him, and then journey with Goldie and try to make sure he doesn’t steal our gold. If they do take on the Red Bastards, do what you can to keep them in line. I don’t want them as allies, but we need someone.’

  Josette took the leather satchel in her small hand and tucked it down the back of her leather tunic. ‘I’ll do what I can for you and Sir Seth.’

  Chapter 8

  She’d made a mistake. For so many long years of cold, she’d been waiting for him. Her champion that would help her liberate her people and lead them back to the correct path, and yet she’d been so overcome by her excitement and flush of emotions that she’d let his blood mix with hers. Already, she could feel the emotions in her body becoming stronger and stronger. She’d done so well to train herself over the years to feel nothing, and now she was certainly feeling something. She was actually enjoying walking along in the snow next to him, and had begun to realise the terrible depths of her loneliness before. It had been literally years since she’d talked to another person, and while he spoke in that dog tongue Northern, it was still conversation.

  She had to focus on the task at hand. He wasn’t her friend: he was the weapon in her hand to smash the new ways and bring her people back to their former glory.

  ‘So how far do we have to journey?’ Seth asked her.

  ‘Why, are you feeling cold and hungry already?’ She mocked.

  ‘Not at all,’ he said. Indeed, he wasn’t feeling the cold nearly as much, and his hunger had faded away completely. He tried to tell himself it was because of the fighting and the surge of
excitement from battle, but he had the strong feeling he was changing in this place. She’d seemed much too willing for him to drink her blood. If he’d told someone about that, they would be disgusted, but he didn’t find it disgusting at all. Just natural, and that was even more part of the problem. This situation was starting to seem more and more normal when it was in fact strange beyond belief.

  ‘I just want to know where I’m going and what you want me to help you do,’ he said. Now that the coins were gone, his friends were safe and he had no real purpose of his own. It made him feel strange that in fact he’d probably just been a marching force in one direction, smashing anything that got in his way. It had been a very long time since he’d had ambitions of his own, other than survival. He’d once wanted to be a city guard or king’s guard, to wear the uniform and do his family proud, and now that seemed like such a small ambition, but still... the higher it seemed you reached, the more bodies you had to step on to reach them.

  ‘Soon you’ll see for yourself.’ She said.

  Seth stopped in the snow and let her keep walking ahead. Slowly, the woman, Silver turned back to him.

  ‘What?’ she asked in her old Northern dialect.

  He wasn’t going to do this anymore. At first, he’d gone along with her because in a battle she’d win, and to be honest it was hard not to trust something so beautiful. But looking at her again, with her long silver hair, silver tongue, and pale strange body, he really had no idea of what she wanted from him. Also, she loved fighting. He could see the excitement light in her eyes every time they encountered another group of roving howlers; while he was getting tired of dispatching these poor tortured things, she seemed to enjoy it. He had no idea what they were. The human dead. Was he destroying their souls? Or just their remains.

  ‘Tell me what we’re doing or that’s it. I have no idea why I’m even walking beside you. Who the hell are you?’

  This time she laughed out loud and clapped her hands. ‘You’re so feisty, it’s quite a feat. You’re my champion and you will help me, so stop all this nonsense.’ As she said the words, he felt again the sense of purpose. Of course he was going to help her: what else would he do, it made perfect sense now. Still, some nagging thought was burrowing at him. He wanted to know what they were doing even if he knew he’d do anything she asked. With great force of will and a feeling like he was literally being stabbed through the stomach, he managed to spat out his next words.

  ‘I will, but I still want to know what we’re doing.’

  Her blue eyes widened. ‘You really do have a lot of spirit. If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you, but keep walking. We’ve a long way to go and you still need more training.’

  He was amusing, but also dangerous, and part of her wished she could just tell him her story, and maybe he would help of his own recourse, but she had no idea if he would follow her into this madness. Still, her power over him should have been absolute, but he kept fighting back. If she didn’t tell him to follow every few hours or so, he’d start asking what they were doing and who she was; he even retained his personality, and had even said a bad word at her. It was unheard of that one could retain so much of themselves in the face of her power. Still, she could get him to follow along well enough... she just had to keep a tight leash on him. Now he wanted to know again, what they were actually doing. Well maybe he would like it or not, but he’d do it regardless.

  Terrible, terrible luck. He had finally found someone who had enough enemies to keep him fed and happy, and now the stupid boy had brought himself to the wrong side. He was no good to him now, and worst of all, he was now walking around following her. Of all the things in this place with him that he hated, he hated her the most. Well, she was the best of her kind, but her kind were a plague. They tasted terrible and acted like they owned his land. Worst of all, they hunted the dead, and that was wrong. He didn’t know why it was wrong, but it was.

  Now, through the falling snow he was forced to crouch down and stay hidden from her like a scared little pup. It was humiliating, but what recourse did he have? Her and that stupid silver tongue... it was sacrilege that anything else could tell him what to do, and then his traitor body would do it. He’d tried to kill her at least a hundred times, and every time resulted in him writhing in pain as he fought to bite and slash her against her wishes. Her wishes, as if anything’s wishes but his own mattered at all.

  Bloody stupid moon lovers, they had ruined his land and now she sought to ruin his boy. He could smell the stink of her blood in him. He should be sheltering from the cold, but was walking around like her instead, not feeling the bite of it. Even the Wolvern felt the cold. It froze him and hurt its bare skin, but he took the pain and pushed though. To be here was to be in pain, and it was strength. These things knew nothing of pain or hunger. She didn’t even eat. No hunger at all, just a cold purpose, and now she had his boy to help her with her stupid mission. He would have to find someone who could fight her, and he only knew of one creature that could do that. He thought fondly of her now. She was the only thing in this entire freezing land that he actually didn’t want to kill. He’d find her and she’d put an end to this nonsense, and then he’d rip that silver bitch in half.

  Chapter 9

  Dierdra sat in her husband’s command tent and looked at the courier in front of her. He was a nervous looking boy of 16 or so, in the King’s livery and with a sweaty face. Cleary he’d ridden a long way to give her husband this missive. She took the parchment from the boy and snapping the red wax seal on the fine paper to read it.

  ‘‘The Duke of Twin Plains,’’ she read. ‘‘It has come to the attention of myself and council of trade that a small detachment of your guard and levies have marched from your lands across Red River and are now headed in the direction of Black Rock Keep. As you well know and have been informed before, any troop movements must be cleared in writing by myself or my council. I trust this is a training exercise of some kind, and your troops will not be engaged in any action against Lord Renton or the seat of Black Rock, who have a good history of paying taxes and suppling well-equipped levies to the King’s guard, unlike yourself, who has a very bad history of supplying the worst of levies and being quite remise with your tax collection.’’

  Fucking money. She hated this new King, the coiner by name and coiner by nature. He was only 27 and acted like he was the be-all and end-all. His father had been much easier to deal with. He’d known about the Dark Guild and feared them. This new King was living in a dream world where trade councils ran the realm. She had no idea how the King had even found out; surely, some farmer in Red River had run to the King’s couriers and inform him because they might have taken some crops and livestock without paying. What a world. Dierdra looked at the nervous courier and understood the boy’s fear. This had been written just a day or two after they had begun to march. Now her force was arrayed beneath the walls of the Keep and clearly readying an attack.

  She stood from behind the desk and approached the boy, who actually flinched as she came towards him. Luthor’s two Dark Guards stood at the boy’s sides; they hadn’t left after showing him into the tent.

  ‘So what do you see out there, boy?’She asked sweetly.

  The boy was terrified, but clearly smart enough to know the correct answer. ‘I see a training exercise.’ He said.

  Dierdra smiled, and pulling a few gold coins from her pocket, she pushed them into the boy’s shaking and sweating hand. ‘Good boy. Now, you take your time getting back home, and spend a few days dallying in Pellota on my coin.’

  The boy almost sighed with relief. He turned and was ushered out by the guards, who looked to the Duchess as they left and saw her make the sign of the cut across her neck. The guards just nodded and led him away. She could use his blood anyway, as she was starting to feel hungry again.

  She paced up and down in the tent with her fine leather boots clicking. She read the letter over and over again, and wished that her husband was here with her. She’d
never liked this side of things, and was always much better at being the strong one by his side. Still, in almost every battle he’d fought and won, it had been by listening to her council. Now she just had to follow her own advice.

  She had to admire the young King for his organisation, and while she had no wish to get involved in a fight with the royal army, she didn’t have any choice but to try to make this quick and get the hell back to Twin Plains before he found out. Her Captain of the guards came back in and spoke to her.

  ‘The men are ready for the attack. We’ve 150 grapplers and three companies of archers. Should we proceed with the attack?’

  Dierdra slowly ripped up the King’s missive with her fine white fingers. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Hooks!’ The cry went up from a section of the wall and Grimm, axe in hand ran to the section. There were at least fifty crouching archers and guards spread along the wall, and more waiting in the courtyard to relieve them. He saw the three large metal hooks hanging over the wall and into the field below. He waited to the count of three, and then with quick cuts, leaned over the wall and severed the ropes holding them. The men attached to the ropes fell hard to the ground with the sound of broken bones and cries as arrows whistled past his head. They had archers in the field just waiting for a good shot.

  ‘Archers, scorpions, litter that field!’ Dagosh yelled as he saw what had happened. The huge scorpions fired their bolts into the field and the archers did the same, yet it was aiming at glinting metals and shadowy running figures in the dark. Again, the cry of ‘hooks’ went up, and this time a young guardsman cutting the ropes got hit. He fell back hard with an arrow in his throat, the first death. Another guardsman managed to cut the ropes, but this time with the black clad soldiers of Twin Plains’ faces looking at him as they fell. This time, there were muffled thumps as they hit, but no cries.