Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos)

by Graham Carmichael

  Chapter 1

  The journey to the palace took three days of travel on horseback. They had made good progress. The only hitch came when one of the guards’ horses fell over and became lame. The horse had to be put down and the guard had to double up on another horse. There were ten members of the party; Paddy Turner, his eldest son, John, and eight guards. Each day they rode hard. They stopped only when the horses could go on no longer.

  They arrived at the city of Thorvale just after sunrise. The city had been named after the Kingdom two generations ago. It was going to be named Thorntonvale to match the Kingdom name exactly but the King of the time, King Thar felt that it would be too vein.

  The city was majestic. The streets had quality cobbled paving. The buildings were equipped with running water and indoor sanitary systems. The city had a massive underground network of sewers. It was a haven for those with money. The palace stood in the centre of the town. The buildings and streets seemed to spiral out from the centre. The city looked like a spider’s web from above. The palace itself was not overly flash. It was designed to be functional rather than majestic. To compensate for the lack of pomp in the palace itself, the rich locals had their houses and mansions decorated up in the grandest of fashions.

  As the party marched through the streets of Thorvale, the people hardly gave them a passing glance, so used they were to the hustle and bustle of city life. If a small army marched through there would barely be a raised eyebrow. Some of the guards in the party looked upon the city with awe as did John Turner. Paddy had spent a lot of his life here so was not quite as impressed. The main street cut a straight line to the palace. The houses were all three and four storeys high, each one attached to the next in a sort of uneven terrace. Some of the houses had a balcony; others just had flags and other strange items hanging from the windows. One house had the skin of a dead bear hanging from the second floor window. It was perhaps appropriate as the market stall for the fur trader was located directly in front of the house. Stalls selling every item imaginable lined the street all the way to the palace. The traders shouted above the din to attract the attention of potential customers, each competing with the next to be heard over the natural din of the crowd. As the party neared the palace, the road opened up into a small plaza. At the centre of the plaza stood the palace. Around the edge, a number of different buildings stood. Most looked like modern mansions, built to house the numerous dignitaries that resided in Thorvale. However, one building stood out more than the others. It was an old looking building, a cross between a church and a town hall. The building was both long and high. This was the academy. Since the days of King Thar, the first ruler of Thorvale, this building had been used to train the military. Each member of the King's Army had to attend the academy at some point. It was a place that demanded respect. Unfortunately, things had taken a turn for the worst at the academy as the instructors of old were retiring or dying and the new instructors did not possess the same level of experience.

  The party arrived at the palace gates shortly before noon. As they approached, the gate watchmen barred their way.

  “Halt.” the first watchman said. “State your business.”

  “My name is Paddy Turner and I bring word to the King from Horton Peak.”

  The watchman entered the lower room of the watchtower. He came back with a stern look on his face.

  “You are not expected. What business do you have?”

  “We are here to report on a disturbing occurrence that happened but three days ago.” Paddy began. “The rest of our business is for the King's ears only. Let me pass.”

  “Do not presume to give orders to a member of the King's watch, farmer boy. I will have you hung if you do not show respect.” the watchman stated angrily.

  Paddy was beginning to get frustrated.

  “Look you little weasel, if I have to hack my way through I will but time is of the utmost importance. Delaying my business may cost people their lives.”

  The commotion was heard by another watchman atop the tower. He leaned over the wall to see what was going on.

  “Well I’ll be damned.” The watchman said to himself. He left his post and came bounding down the tower. By the time he reached the gate, swords had been drawn.

  “Paddy” the watchman shouted with delight.

  Paddy looked up. An amazed and delighted smile crossed his face.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t William Warhound. How are you?” Paddy sheathed his sword and walked straight past the first watchman.

  “It has been a long time my friend” said William.

  “Too long” replied Paddy.

  “What brings you here?”

  “I need to speak to the King urgently. It is a matter that cannot wait. Can you get me in?” Paddy asked.

  “Of course I can but under one condition.” William said.

  “What is it?”

  “You will spare me a bit of time to have a drink and a chinwag when you are done.”

  “You have a deal” replied Paddy.

  The first watchman looked bemused. Paddy walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

  “Take care of the horses, there’s a good chap.” He patted him on the back for good measure. The first watchman was incensed, his face visibly reddened. He turned towards Paddy and began to move forward to pick a fight when William Warhound spoke.

  “Put that damn sword away and deal with the horses.” He ordered.

  The first watchman’s shoulders slumped. “This is a job for a bloody dog.” He stated.

  “It is better to be the dog rather than the dog meat.” William began. “And dog meat is what you would have been if you had picked a fight with that man.”

  “And just who is that man?” The first watchman asked in a nonchalant tone of voice.

  “That, my lad, is Paddy Turner. He was one of the finest fighters to ever pick up a blade.”

  The name seemed familiar to the first watchman. He pondered it for a moment. William caught up to the party who were patiently waiting for him in the courtyard just through the gate. Then the realisation hit the first watchman.

  “Chaos Slayer?” He shouted to William referring to the nickname Paddy had earned himself when he used to be in the army. Paddy had gained the name after single handedly repelling a raiding party of thirty monsters from Cursed Isle. Only one had managed to escape. The story had been told for many a year, each time becoming more and more exaggerated. William turned to the first watchman and winked; a wry smile on his face.

  William escorted the party through the palace. The many corridors led to a great hall. Positioned around the walls of the great hall were bent and buckled swords, shields and armour.

  The spoils of a hundred battles or more, displayed as a warning to all those who would enter the palace with thoughts other than peace and harmony. The party entered the hall from the North. To the East and West were the entrances from the royal wing of the palace and the barracks/servants quarters. At the Southern end of the hall was a flight of steps leading to the seats of the King, Queen and personal aids. The throne was of simple design. It was made out of quality wood rather than precious metal. Upon the throne sat, King Henried, the First of his name. He was not a particularly tall man only topping 5’8” in his prime. Now in his 50’s the King was starting to look frail. His body was failing him. His many battles had left him scarred and weathered. Many injuries had failed to heal properly. Henried was a fearless warrior who now made for a shrewd King.

  “Speak” the King said in a deep and authoritarian tone.

  “My Lord,” Paddy began, “I bring disturbing news from the town of Horton Peak. I also come to beg the aid of the royal court.”

  “Many beg the aid of the royal court. I never expected my former Commander to be doing the same. State your business.”

  At that point the door to the east opened. In walked a tall and muscular male dressed in the royal robes. His hair was long and black. He had the bluest eyes yet ther
e seemed to be arrogance in them. His face was chiselled with an expression of supreme confidence. The sight of this character made Paddy’s blood boil. It was Prince Cohen, second heir to the throne of Thorntonvale. Paddy resisted the urge to throttle him. The Prince took his place by his father’s side.

  “Three days ago, my wife gave birth to my daughter, Isabelle. As is the custom, I took the newborn child with me to the local Tavern and enjoyed merriment with the locals. When I returned I found the wife of my neighbour on the ground outside my house. She had collapsed from the sight she saw inside.” Paddy began to choke with the memory of that night’s events and struggled to tell the next part.

  “I entered my house to find the midwife had been burned alive in the fireplace and my wife had been….” He stopped to compose himself. Tears were running down his cheek.

  “…had been dismembered. In the shock of the moment I forgot about my child who I had laid on the ground outside whilst I helped my neighbour’s wife. In the chaos and shock of the moment, someone or something kidnapped my child.”

  “What does this have to do with the royal court?” Prince Cohen asked looking visibly bored. “Surely this is a matter for the local town watch at Horton Peak.”

  Paddy looked at Cohen with a cold stare.

  “Whoever stole my child, My Lord, we believe was not human.” Paddy Replied.

  “What makes you assume that?” The King enquired in a gentler manner.

  “The baby and the woman both left definite imprints in the dirt where they had laid. The woman had made footprints when she awoke and ran up the street. They were clear and easy to trace. However, no footprints were left leading up to or away from my child.”

  The King contemplated this reasoning for a moment. Then it dawned on him.

  “Your assumption can mean only one thing,” he began, “a Wraith.”

  “Yes, My Lord. That is what we believe.” Paddy confirmed.

  “We have had many instances of kidnapping and murder over the last year. We believe that the denizens of the Cursed Isle are plotting something but as yet, we do not know what. We also are disturbed to see them acting in an organised way. Something is controlling them but again, we know not what. Most of the people who have been kidnapped were either newborn babies or infants of no more than one year old. Most have been from families who have special talents. Why would they kidnap a farmers’ daughter?”

  “I do not know. I do know that I need your help in getting my daughter back.”

  “Paddy, my friend,” the King spoke in a soft tone, “you know I will help you but we cannot just rush into things. The Cursed Isle is almost impenetrable. Our armies would be cut down instantly.”

  “Adventurers” Paddy interrupted.

  “That is what I was thinking. We will hire the best adventurers in the land, pay them whatever they demand and get them to infiltrate the Cursed Isle and find out what is going on. Once we know, we can take action.”

  “I would like to be in the adventurers’ party.” Paddy began. “It is my daughter that has gone missing and I deserve the chance to rescue her.”

  I would like to send you, Paddy. I would even like to go myself but look at us. Our minds may be as sharp as ever but our bodies won’t allow us to do what we used to do. My friend, we need new blood.” The King spoke the truth and in his heart Paddy knew this.

  “Then let me send my son. He is well trained and will be an asset to the group.”

  Prince Cohen couldn’t pass up an opportunity to embarrass Paddy. Ever since the day Paddy had stood against him with the Prince’s own troops, Cohen wanted to get even. He wanted to make Paddy look foolish. Even in light of the current situation, Cohen felt no compassion; only the need for revenge.

  “Your son may be well trained but is he experienced in mortal combat. A good adventurer needs to be so.” The Prince had smugness written all over his face.

  Paddy’s answer shocked him with its boldness.

  “He would hack you up into little pieces.” There was a pause before he added “My Lord”.

  Cohen stood up sharply; a fit of rage had boiled up inside him.

  “Let us prove it then.”

  Cohen walked quickly towards John. As he neared, the Prince drew his sword and lunged. John reacted quickly but did not have a sword at hand. He looked around franticly trying to find something he could defend himself with. Cohen lunged, slashed with a forehand and then carried the momentum into a backhand slice. John had magnificent footwork. He stepped to the side, slivered backwards and made sure he was well out of the way. He saw a battered shield lying on the floor near the north entrance. Sprinting to reach it before Cohen could stab him; he threw himself across the marble floor stopping precisely at the right point to pick up the shield. He grabbed it and scrambled to his feet. Cohen still felt that he had the upper hand. John too, was confident he could win now. Cohen threw a volley of thrusts, lunges and slashes. John used the shield well, encouraging Cohen to attack harder. He obliged. Cohen was getting angry. Every thrust was parried. He was supremely fit and John realised that he would not be able to wear his opponent down. As Cohen thrust again, John bent his knees deeply and angled the shield so the blade bounced of in an upward motion. John then tackled Cohen to the ground and sprang up onto the Prince’s chest. Using his knees to brace Cohen’s arms, John proceeded to punch the Prince several times in the face.

  “Do you give up?” John asked calmly.

  Cohen spat blood filled phlegm in John’s face. Four punches later John asked again only this time a bit more forcefully.

  “Do you give up?”

  The face of the Prince lost all visible aggression.

  “Yes” he replied dejectedly.

  “Impressive, young Turner, you have shown great skill and resourcefulness.” The King praised. “Paddy, I feel that it is most appropriate that your son goes on this adventure. I also believe that Cohen will benefit from this too. Maybe it will cure his hot head.”

  “As long as he doesn’t endanger the mission; his hot head has caused many problems in the past.” Paddy didn’t like the idea of Cohen going on a mission with his son. He felt that he may betray him. Cohen may have lost in a fair fight but he was cunning and devious.

  “Do not worry. I have in mind one adventurer who will keep the whole party under control.”

  “And who may that be?” Paddy enquired.

  “Her name is Anree, otherwise know as The Healer. She is a Priestess of the Sacred Hills.”

  “I have heard of her. I also hear she is one of the few people left in the world to possess magical ability. Why do you think she will keep the group under control?”

  The King looked at Paddy with a knowing smile.

  “Because, my good man, she has more guile about her of anyone I have ever met. She possesses a level head and she can turn a man to stone just by looking at him. Fear and respect for this woman will make the others tow the line. Also, my beloved son here has had some dealings with her in the past.”

  Cohen looked down at the floor as all eyes turned to him. The King continued,

  “Cohen felt that she would be good game for the hunt, if you catch my meaning. He tried wooing her.”

  “What happened?” Paddy asked with pricked ears.

  “Oh, she cast a spell on him. It made him believe that his manhood had dropped off. I remember him running up to the doctor asking him to sew it back on. Of course it was a simple illusion. He actually had a sausage from the kitchen in his hand and his manhood was intact.” The King began to chuckle aloud. Soon the rest followed. Cohen had gone a deep shade of red.

  “I bet he didn’t try wooing Anree again.” Paddy stated, still trying to curb his laughter. “What did they call him after that?” Paddy asked.

  “Sausage boy” Replied the King now in hysterical laughter.

  With that the Prince stood up and stormed out of the great hall.

  “That was cruel, My Lord.” Paddy said to the King.

  “
I’m glad he has gone.” The King said in a calmer tone of voice. “I should never have put Cohen as the General of my army over you. It was rash of me and in hindsight I admit it was a mistake; one that the Kingdom has paid for dearly. Your tragedy would not have happened if you were in charge.”

  Paddy appreciated the apology. He believed that he would never see the day. He was gracious in his acceptance.

  “My Lord, do not feel bad. Family ties are the strongest in the world. You would not be human if you did not want the best for your sons. After all, leadership is what they have been raised for since childhood. You cannot be responsible for their temperament though.”

  “Ever the gentleman, Paddy.” The king proclaimed. “Let us not waist any more time. Your child is in peril and we need to find out what is afoot.”

  The mention of Isabelle brought a feeling of guilt to Paddy. “How could I enjoy a laugh and a joke at a time like this?” He said to himself.

  John heard this. “Do not fret, Father. Sometimes laughter is needed to keep you sane.”

  Paddy looked at his son and smiled. “How did you become so wise?” he asked.

  “I had the best teacher.” John replied returning the smile.

  The King started to scribble upon a parchment the summons to those adventurers he had chosen.

  “Guards” he called when he had finished.

  Two guards entered the great hall.

  “Send riders to deliver this message to those whom it pertains.”

  With that the guards went about their duty.

  “I assume you will be gracious enough to accept my hospitality and enjoy a stay at the palace until this ugly business has been resolved?” The King asked Paddy.

  “My Lord, I would be delighted. Even as the commander of your armies, I do not remember ever being invited to stay at your palace.” Paddy replied.

  “But that did not deter you from spending many a night here entertaining my serving wenches, if I remember rightly.”

  “Well my lord, even the servants need servicing.” Paddy retorted. Both smiled at each other.

  “Come” The King shouted.

  The King escorted Paddy, John and the guards to quarters where they could stay.

  That night Paddy went out to drown his sorrows and catch up with his old friend William.

  *****