Dark Times

by Brian Murray

  ***

  General Polalic received orders from Malice, and waited with most of his men inside the keep. Outside, he left a few men on guard to give the impression that all remained normal.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dax, Thade, and Tanas crept around the castle grounds, easily avoiding detection from the guards. The buildings untouched by the Darklord’s army stood empty, appearing like a white-blanketed ghost town. Icy winds funnelled down the valley and howled through the cold dormant buildings, rattling shutters. They stopped to let two guards pass them, then moved towards the inner gates.

  Dax held up a clenched fist, pointed at Thade, then pointed to the left. Thade moved off. Within seconds, he returned and nodded. To the left a guard lay slumped on the ground, his throat slashed without mercy. They moved along the inner wall and silently scaled the wall where it joined the sheer sides of the gorge-like valley, then hid behind some empty stables.

  Now they were within striking distance of the keep. Dax paused and thought back to his last conversation with Gan-Goran.

  “Get in, and get out quickly. Don’t hang around, and don’t get yourself into a fight you can’t escape.”

  Dax had held the old master-magiker’s gaze, smiling wickedly.

  “Trust me Dax, don’t get yourself in such a position. You will be heavily outnumbered; stealth will be your only ally.”

  Dax dragged himself back to the mission. He looked at the two younger men and smiled. “We’re only going for one reason,” he whispered softly. “Let’s go in, complete our mission, then get the hell out of here as quickly and as quietly as possible.”

  The pair nodded and they moved off towards the darkened, grey keep.

  ***

  Inside the keep, Chaos walked towards the Darklord’s quarters. He knocked on the door and entered the gloomy room. “He’s here,” he announced in a menacing growl.

  “I know, my friend.”

  “Do I have permission to face him?”

  “I will let you know when he has completed the little task we require, then yes, you can face him.”

  Chaos’s eyes blazed red with joy as he left the room. That was all he needed, he could now prepare to face his nemesis.

  ***

  Dax, Thade, and Tanas entered the grey keep through the cold, dark kitchens. Everything in the castle was still, ominously still and dark. The lack of movement worried the men.

  Was it a trap?

  There were only six people moving inside the castle: Malice, Fury, and Chaos walked from the bowels of the keep toward the upper floors. Dax, Thade, and Tanas edged silently from the kitchen into the heart of the keep.

  ***

  Malice telepathically gave General Polalic and the Dark Brethren an order to hold their positions throughout the keep. Polalic grew fearful. He saw that the intruders had scaled the inner wall. Without having to see his face, the general knew one of the men was the warrior with the violet eyes; the man who was coming after him. He tried to hide his fears but he found himself backing away from the window when the warriors edged towards the keep, and his location.

  ***

  Dax could not see anything in the darkness and so needed to rely on Tanas’s keen senses. He asked the blind warrior to take point. They walked slowly from the kitchen and into the keep’s winding cold, dark corridors.

  ***

  Malice, Fury, and Chaos separated and moved through the darkened keep in different directions.

  ***

  Tanas held aloft a clenched fist and the other two halted. Slowly, silently, he split his quarterstaff, revealing his two short swords.

  Seeing Tanas draw his weapons, Thade drew his two short gladiator swords whilst Dax drew his two short battle-axes: they were now ready for a fight.

  ***

  Sensing his brethren’s action, Chaos drew his two black short swords and stood waiting in a corridor.

  ***

  Tanas turned a corner, followed by Dax and Thade. Farther along the corridor, two iridescent red eyes greeted the three men.

  “Welcome, brother,” hissed Chaos coldly, his icy smile not visible in the dark.

  ***

  General Gordonia, Ireen, and Megan were enjoying their journey back to Kal-Pharina. Admiral Rendel, who insisted on being called Reedie, proved to be a wonderful host. They now headed east along the southern coast. They had passed the Elbow and neared the port of Sandall. For every landmark or port they passed, it seemed Admiral Rendel had a saga to tell them. They never knew if all the tales were true, but it lifted their spirits to hear the stories of heroic deeds or mystical creatures, taking the young women’s minds off the perils their men might face.

  As they sailed passed Sandall, Admiral Rendel decided they did not need to stop; the Gliding Falcon had sufficient supplies to last the whole journey.

  ***

  In his windowless room, the Darklord received a psychic message, telling him the fallen one was in the keep. Inside a small circle, marked out with the blood of children, he knelt down as though praying, with the Dark One’s bones set out on the bare stone floor before him. In front of the bones in a metal bowl lay an offering—the warm, sacred hearts from several innocent young children. Between his clasped hands, the Darklord gripped the black crystal tightly and bowed his head. He started the spell. Chanting in an ancient language, he gasped as the power from the black crystal surged through his sinewy body.

  Dark Times beckoned.

  ***

  The warrior in silver armour stood motionless in the middle of the corridor with his black swords crossed down in front of his legs. Dax stepped forward and eyed the warrior, then turned to face the others.

  “I think we’ve outstayed our welcome,” whispered Thade hoarsely, staring at the two glowing eyes.

  “I would agree,” added Tanas.

  The warrior stepped forward and Dax readied his death-dealers.

  “You’re not going to run, are you?” asked Chaos jovially.

  “I think that is a good idea. Let’s go!” yelled Dax, breaking the hush within the keep.

  All hell broke loose inside the massive, dark building. The three men ran along the gloomy corridors away from the warrior in silver armour, yelling at the top of their voices to try and confuse the enemy about their numbers.

  Chaos, now joined by Fury, smiled and walked slowly, following the three men.

  Dax, Thade, and Tanas crashed through a set of wooden doors and skidded to a stop. They found themselves in a large hall, faced by what seemed to be a company of soldiers, armed and ready. There was only one other set of doors opposite them, behind the warriors dressed in black.

  Behind them, the friends knew the warrior in silver armour was coming and something told them he was not a good man to confront—they had all heard the chilling stories about the Darklord’s bodyguards. The friends had no choice. Though Dax did not like the odds, he screamed a battle cry and charged forward, his death-dealers hacking and slashing, creating a bloody path. The other two warriors did not hesitate; to Dax’s left Thade battled with his two gladiator swords and to his right Tanas fought with his short swords. The Dark Brethren tried to use their mystic abilities to dull the warriors’ senses, but they had very little effect.

  Behind the trio, two silver-armoured men entered the hall.

  Dax carved a path through the Dark Brethren towards the doors opposite, followed by Tanas. In their bloody wake Thade followed, defending their backs. Sensing men were behind him, Thade turned and faced the two silver-clad warriors. He took up his gladiator stance and prepared to attack them. If Dax had not dragged him away, Thade would have been decapitated. Fortunately, his body no longer stood where Chaos’s swords slashed through the air. Pulling Thade along, Dax and Tanas barged their way through the doors and raced down another winding corridor.

  Inside the hall, Chaos’s laughter rumbled out over the sound of wounded men.

  Chaos peered down at the injured, mutilated, and dead bodies now blocking his path. Smil
ing, the warrior whispered a name, Death’s original name, the word that should not be spoken—the call that demanded an answer.

  As the three men raced down the corridor, one of them hesitated and glanced over his shoulder, to discover who had called his true name. The beast inside the warrior fought desperately to be released. The beast, the very essence of the warrior, of Death, wanted to be set free to shed blood, to kill. His eyes started to turn, but the man frantically struggled to keep his demon in check.

  Behind the warrior, his immortal brother laughed at him—his laughter cold, cruel, and malicious.

  Turning back to his friends, the man continued to follow them, keeping his true self from surging through, from dominating. This time Death was kept at bay: just, only just. This time the warrior’s eyes did not turn the spine-chilling red, which meant darkness was kept at bay.

  The three friends sprinted down the corridor with several Dark Brethren giving chase. They charged through the main outer doors and fled the keep. They ran down the stone steps, recklessly taking them two, three at a time, unconcerned with the ice and snow that had settled on them. They reached the courtyard but were faced by more Dark Brethren. Without hesitation, the three men attacked, trying to punch their way through to reach the gates and freedom.

  ***

  Tanas attacked the group to Dax’s left, Thade attacked the group to the right, while Dax himself charged the centre of the Dark Brethren, with ample room at each side to swing his death-dealers.

  Snow continued to fall in swirling flurries as the three men battled on. Dax received a small nick on his arm and Thade bled from a cut on his thigh. Behind the three men, Fury and Chaos emerged from the keep. They slowly moved down the steps and out into the courtyard, their blades ready, their eyes glowing brightly. They waited at the base of the steps, observing the carnage before them.

  ***

  Inside the keep, deep in its bowels, the Darklord continued chanting. The time drew close; the enchantment was nearly complete. One cut was all it would take.

  ***

  Outside, the three friends fought side by side, while behind them in their wake, the virgin white snow covering the ground was stained crimson and littered with lifeless bodies.

  ***

  General Polalic stood close to the keep away from the fighting, his eyes wide with fear. He had swallowed a crystal, the extract of the balamine plant, and the intoxicating juices coursed through his body, heightening his dread, the feeling strangely almost orgasmic.

  ***

  Inside the keep the Darklord reached the end of the first part of the spell, chanting a special verse. The temperature in the room rose. The small hearts in the metal bowl before him started to hiss and the blood began to bubble. Suddenly, in a flash of brilliant white light, the offering vanished. A gateway between two realms ripped open with a sound like tearing flesh. Slowly, through the crevice created by the Darklord, the Realm of Yallaz’oom crystallised. Wider and wider the portal opened, with flames licking out of the edges, probing the air. The image of a castle filled the scenery and in the foreground, like a silhouette, the Dark One appeared, holding aloft the Blade of Yallas.

  ***

  Outside the keep, Dax turned and swung one of his short axes, crushing a man’s skull.

  ***

  Tanas cut high and slashed across his next victim’s throat.

  ***

  Thade stabbed out with both swords, skewering the man he faced in the stomach and groin.

  ***

  Lynon, a simple servant at the palace, slumped at the feet of the warrior who had killed him, his lifeless eyes staring up. The Dark Brethren’s general had told him and several other servants to dress in their uniforms and take guard duty. Lynon had never hurt any man or beast in his life—even today he did not draw his sword as the three men bore down upon him. He was innocent of evil.

  ***

  Innocent blood had been spilt. The true rite of resurrection neared completion.

  ***

  The three men punched a hole through the Dark Brethren, then pushed on towards the inner gates. Behind them, one of the silver-armoured men disappeared back into the keep and the courtyard flooded with more of the cultist warriors.

  The trio ran for their lives.

  ***

  Inside the keep, the Darklord sensed the former champion had spilt innocent blood. He felt near orgasmic pleasure as the power of the black crystal flowed through his aged, withered body with increased intensity. He now must complete the rite of resurrection for the Dark One to re-enter the mortal realm.

  He began to chant the next phase of the spell. The temperature in the room continued to rise. The portal between the two realms opened wider, filling a wall, as though the stone structure did not exist. The Darklord continued to chant.

  The portal widened. The view of the realm of darkness; the Realm of Yallaz’oom, the home of the Dark One, became clearer. The Darklord continued to chant.

  The scene facing the Darklord through the portal was bleak: black scorched lands with black skies filled with red billowing clouds. In the distance, dominating the scenery, was a black palace. The angular building stood tall, silhouetted against the black sky, as deep red clouds bunched together. Lightning slashed through a crimson cloud, lighting up the moat encircling the black palace, a moat of molten lava that hissed and bubbled lazily as it flowed. No rain fell from the clouds—none ever did. The Darklord smiled and continued to chant.

  Ominously, behind the black palace a volcano erupted, filling the sky with fire, and huge columns of ash and lava were thrown high into the darkness. It started to rain, but not water. Black ash fell from the sky, covering the land.

  ***

  Outside, the three men made their escape. They did not notice the skies fill with black clouds, billowing out above the Grey Castle. The snow stopped and large hailstones hurtled down, smashing into the snow-covered ground, creating small circular craters. The friends fled to safety.

  ***

  Inside the room, the walls and ceiling began to secrete a viscous crimson fluid, and black smoke oozed out of the portal from the realm of darkness. Lightning again ripped across the black sky. Thunder rumbled, echoing all around the room, shaking the walls and jiggling stalactites of pus and foulness that hung from the ceiling. A huge warrior dressed in black, with his long cloak billowing behind him, strolled towards the gateway.

  On a floor, the bones of the Dark One’s hand evaporated into a red mist and wafted into the air, circling high, then slammed through the portal. The black-armoured warrior raised his right arm. Where there was once a stump a hand emerged, and the warrior howled in painful delight. Darkness now shrouded the portal. Black smoke flowed into the room, creeping along the floor and up the stone walls covered in malignant slime. The Darklord continued to chant.

  Gooey crimson slime hung from the ceiling in long foul ribbons, dripping slowly into thick puddles on the floor around the praying figure. The portal was just black emptiness and only two red eyes shone, pulsating with hungry anticipation. They waited for the invitation, waited to take their place in the realm of mortals. The Darklord continued to chant. Then words in a modern tongue were spoken.

  “Welcome my master, come forth.”

  In the Realm of Yallaz’oom, lightning forked across the sky, flashing brilliantly cold white, silhouetting the Dark One, highlighting his massive frame. After what seemed an eternity, thunder clapped, shaking everything in the room, rattling the door and table. The rumbling died down and the rattling ceased.

  A black, metal-shoed foot stepped from the realm of darkness into the realm of mortals and clunked on the stone floor. The Dark One crossed the portal. The gelatinous slime covering the walls and ceiling retreated, sucked back into the grey stone with a slurping plop. Once through the gateway imploded, sucking in the black smoke, and closed in a flash. The candles spluttered and died, plunging the room in harrowing blackness. Only two red eyes glowed eerily in the darkness.

&
nbsp; ***

  Dax and his friends forced their way through the Dark Brethren and raced towards the inner gate. Taking the lead, Tanas dived at the Dark Brethren warrior guarding the gate. He skewered him in the stomach, then kicked his chest to free his blades.

  At the steps of the keep, a Dark Brethren sprinted up to Chaos. “They’re getting away, my lord,” announced the black-clad warrior.

  “I can see that,” hissed Chaos coldly. In a heartbeat, he drew one of his swords and decapitated the messenger. “General Polalic!” he roared.

  When the Dark Brethren’s general arrived at the steps, he received a vicious backhanded slap that knocked off his helm and sent him sprawling.

  “Go after them and do not return until they’re dead,” commanded Chaos.

  The general gingerly rose to his feet and glared up at the warrior.

  ***

  The three friends killed the other Dark Brethren at the inner gate and raced through it to make their escape.

  ***

  The Darklord slowly rose from his knees to face the immense, daunting figure of the Dark One, dressed in full jet-black battle armour. The Dark One took his first shuddering breath.

  The Dark One removed the Blade of Yallas from its sheath and holding the hilt, placed the tip on the floor. The crimson fluid all around the point hissed and evaporated into black steam. The Darklord knelt down on one knee and leaned forward to kiss the blade that would kill a mortal man. Rising, he held out his hand and slowly opened his fist, with his palm facing upwards. On his palm rested the black crystal.

  The Dark One’s helm with black chain mail hid his facial expression—a broad smile. He held the hilt of the Blade of Yallas with his right hand, reaching for the crystal with the other. His gauntleted fingers curled around the black gem. The Dark One placed the black crystal on the sword hilt and uttered three words of power in an ancient language. The hilt glowed brightly and the Dark One let out a long shuddering sigh.

  The rite was complete. The Dark One had returned and again he wielded the Blade of Yallas with the magical black crystal in its rightful place.