Chapter 14
Time was of the essence for the party of adventurers. However, the battering they took from the Wraiths meant that they needed time to rest. They spent that night, the whole of the next day, and the next day’s night resting in a small cave they found carved out of a cliff. Anree had cast healing spells on all those who were injured. She had expected the spells to have worked after only one night of rest. They were taking longer than anticipated. For Anree, this was another sign of the dwindling power of the priestesses. For over a Millennium, the priestesses were on the forefront of magic. They were present when the gods came down from the heavens and blessed the fortunate few with their magical energy. Over time, the gift of the gods evolved based upon the temperament of humans. Those with destructive tendencies practiced their destructive arts at the expense of their other powers. Over time, different factions emerged. Wizards, Warlocks, Sorcerers, Healers, Priests, and a large variety of smaller factions would dominate the world of magic. As each generation passed, those with magical powers would breed with others whom did not possess any magical ability at all. This began the slow process of watering down the magical abilities in all factions. The Priestesses of the Sacred Hills were one of the last remaining factions to still hold any serious magical ability. It was realised only within the last century that their magical abilities were fading. It will only be a matter of time before their abilities fade altogether as there are no males with magical abilities left in Thorntonvale. Anree knew this and she felt deeply disheartened at the prospect.
As Anree stared at the last remaining embers of the campfire they had been burning, she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.
“Are you alright?” John asked.
Anree’s eyes lit up at seeing him. “You are awake at last.” Anree said excitedly. “I was beginning to think that you were going to sleep for weeks.”
“I did not realise how much those Wraiths had hurt me.” John began. “I would like to express my gratitude for what you did. I despise magic but I am glad you cast your healing spells on me. It has saved me a lot of pain.”
“It is my pleasure. I am just glad to see you on your feet again.” Anree turned back to the fire, a troubled look crossing her face again.
“What is wrong, Anree?” John enquired in a more authoritative tone of voice.
“It is nothing,” Anree began but John shot her a questioning glance. “Alright, I am feeling a little upset that my powers a not what they were. We have wasted a lot of time waiting for you and Cohen to heal. When I was younger, these healing spells worked within a day. Now I have to wait two. When time is of the essence, the last thing you want is a slow healing spell.”
John smiled, “I think that wasting time feeling sorry for yourself is less productive than waiting for a healing spell to work. Come on, we need to make haste.”
With that, the party packed their camp away and set off towards Blackheart castle.
For The Watcher and the priests of chaos, the extra time the adventurers needed to rest meant they could forge ahead with the ceremony. By the time the adventurers were ready to begin again, the priests were into their third day. The sense of anticipation was building now. A strange mist had formed around the altar where the child lay. The mist was perfectly cylindrical and rose up to the hole in the ceiling. It was as if the mist had been poured into a bottle and could not do anything except adopt the bottle’s shape. The Watcher had worked hard to get to this point. It was nearly two centuries ago since Bhryll was vanquished from the world by his twin brother. The Watcher had been at the battle and slaughtered many men. Once Bhryll had fallen, the undead creatures, used to supplement his army of human followers, descended into chaos. They no longer had a focus for their aggression and animal instincts. They began to fight each other or to become panicked and flee. Seeing that the battle was lost, both the loyal undead and human followers took flight with The Watcher at the helm. It was he who led them to Cursed Isle. There they erected a huge castle so that they could defend against attack. That is what The Watcher told them. The truth was that he needed somewhere where he could prepare to resurrect his fallen master. Any who did not follow him to Cursed Isle were hunted down and slain. The Watcher found that the living monsters such as the Orcs, Goblins, and Trolls could not be controlled. The undead were also very reluctant to follow. The only creatures The Watcher could maintain control of were the Wraiths. This was because the Wraiths possessed the intelligence they had when they were living human beings. Using this army of Wraiths, The Watcher enslaved small groups of the different species. These acted as his servants. They were ruled by fear; the Watcher tortured and killed some of them as an example of what would happen if they were disobedient. Now it was time for the god of chaos to rise. Now was the time to reunite the sons and daughters of chaos, all the creatures on Cursed Isle, and destroy the humans. On this occasion, there would be no gods who would come to the aid of the humans. The world of man would be wiped out or enslaved. But first, The Watcher had to make sure that nothing disrupted the ceremony. Standing once again on his balcony, The Watcher heard the piercing screams of the Wraiths.
“They have returned.” He said with what passed for a happy voice.
He dashed down the tower and into the courtyard.
“Open the gates.” He commanded the winch men.
As the gates opened slowly, he could see his minions standing there. There were only twenty-five.
“How did you fair?” The Watcher enquired to the commander.
“We discovered no trace of the humans on the southern path, master.” The Wraith Commander declared.
“That means they took the northern route.” The Watcher said thoughtfully.
“Master, the others have been slain.” The Commander proclaimed.
“The humans have been slain?” The Watcher asked hopefully.
“No, master,” The Wraith corrected, “It was your servants who were slain. We felt the bond between us break. We heard their death screams.”
The Watcher’s eyes seemed to glow red with hate and anger. He paced around thinking what to do next.
“I would send you to finish the job but there is no way of knowing if you would succeed or not. I will not waste my finest warriors.” He paused for a minute, another idea came to him. “Commander, take your men and spy on the humans. Discover where they are hiding. Track their progress and when they get near to the castle, return and inform me immediately.”
“As you command, master.”
With that the Wraiths turned to leave.
From the cover of the trees surrounding Blackheart Castle, the party of adventurers watched as the Wraiths departed and sped along the northern path.
“It looks like another group of Wraiths are searching for us.” Conrad said to the others.
“At least this time they will not find us.” Cohen replied.
They observed the castle, looking for weaknesses. The construction was jagged and the stone was black. Everything about the place made them feel cold. A thunder cloud hovering over the keep caught their attention.
“What is that?” Rhyll asked.
“It looks like a ritual or ceremony is taking place. Whoever is conducting it is using magic.” Anree said knowingly. She had seen such things many times before.
“So they could be performing a ritual on my sister even as we speak?” John asked sounding a little panicked. He had two fears. The first was that his sister would be dead when he arrived. The second was that he may let his father down. He could not bear to be a disappointment to his father. It was the one thing in life he had strived not to be.
“We need to get in there and fast.” John said with a sense of urgency about him. Anree was thinking about a conversation that she had with the high priestess before she left. She had been told about this moment. Anree was to be the distraction whilst the others rescued the child.
“I know what we must do.” She said to the others. She recounted her plan.
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br /> As Anree approached the main gate to the castle, a grappling hook was launched over the wall to the rear of the castle. Rhyll, John, Conrad and Cohen climbed up onto the ramparts. There were few guards around this area as it was largely inaccessible. Now all they had to do is wait.
Anree drew her sword and banged hard on the portcullis. The tell tale creaking noise of the crank began. Anree began an incantation. She was forming her protective shield around her. She would be able to maintain it for a lot longer as she only needed to cover herself. It would also allow her to strike with her own sword at the dark and foul creatures within the castle walls. As soon as the portcullis was lifted high enough for her to fit through, she charged into the centre of the courtyard. The goblins manning the gate shrieked with surprise. Anree hacked at them sending panic through their ranks. The commotion caused all the guards to come running. Wraiths, Trolls, Orcs, Skeletons, and Goblins all attacked Anree. She was totally surrounded but their weapons had no effect on the shield. The commotion and chaos Anree caused gave the other adventurers their chance. They bolted down a flight of steps from the wall to the courtyard. Trying to hide in the shadows, they sped towards the rear entrance to the keep. There was a flight of stairs on each corner of the keep so they took the north-west flight. High in the damp, stone building, The Watcher heard the commotion and peered over a balcony.
“And so they are here at last.” he said. Turning, he bolted towards the nearest flight of stairs. The Watcher planned to flank the enemy but he, too, took the North-West staircase.
John stopped.
“What is wrong?” Cohen asked.
“I feel cold. It is as if a chill wind has just blown down the tower.” John replied.
“I felt it too.” Rhyll said.
They stopped for a moment and listened. A strange sound could be heard. They could hear the chants of the priests echoing down the stairs but there was something else; a strange howling that did not feel or sound like the wind.
“I think something is coming.” Conrad said quickly. “Hide!”
The spiral stairwell had lots of dark nooks that were used to hide the guards in case of an attack. However, all the guards were preoccupied with Anree in the courtyard. The tall black figure shot past the party members with great speed. None could help but shiver as he passed.
“We need to hurry.” Rhyll said.
They progressed up the keep with great speed. They paused at the entrance to the altar room. Conrad removed the mirror from his belt and angled it to see in. There were no guards; just the priests. The mist in the middle of the room now had lightning bolts flashing through it each one hitting Isabelle square in the chest. The priests uttered one final chant and then bowed to their knees. The adventurers crept slowly into the room. As they closed in on the priests, they struck. It was over in a brief, bloody flash. The priests lay dead and decapitated on the ground. The adventurers turned to the altar. The mist and the lightning had cleared leaving Isabelle lying there, cold and naked. John reached out to pick her up.
“Isabelle.” He began. “If only you knew what you have put us though.” John was speaking in a soft voice but there was a hint of resentment there. It was due to Isabelle that all this had happened; and John still did not know why.
“What do you think they were doing to her?” He asked.
“I have no idea but whatever it was seems to have failed.” Conrad replied. Then it dawned on them.
“Anree.” Cohen shouted running to the southern balcony overlooking the battle. The Watcher had reached Anree and had commanded his minions to stand down.
“So, you are one of the adventurers come to rescue the child?” He asked.
Anree didn’t speak a word. She attacked. She swung her sword time and time again but The Watcher stepped aside or parried her attacks with the greatest of ease.
“Your attacks are pitiful.” He said snarling. “How long can you keep your defences up?”
“Anree cannot win this battle alone.” Rhyll shouted running to the stairwell. The others followed.
The Watcher took a huge swing at Anree. His blade cut her sword in half before crashing into the barrier. A strange shockwave ran around the shield. Anree now had no weapon. The Watcher continued to smash his sword into the barrier. Each new shockwave visibly weakened the shield as the barrier increased in translucency. The others raced into the courtyard, led by Rhyll, just as The Watcher raised his sword to bring another blow crashing down. This time the barrier didn’t hold. As the sword passed through it seemed to slow. Then it sliced Anree’s body in half; from her right shoulder through to her left hip. The two halves of her body fell to the ground. Rhyll, John, Cohen and Conrad looked on in horror. The shock halted their charge. For a long moment they looked on, unable and unwilling to move; watching as the black figure admired his handiwork. Shaking his feelings away, Conrad spoke.
“We can do nothing now, let us away.”
They all backed away still staring at the scene; all except Cohen that is. A rage, an uncontrollable anger was growing within him. He had never proclaimed it but he loved Anree. Ever since meeting her as a child, he had been mesmerised by her beauty. He hoped that she would one day see him for the fine man he was but that would never happen now. He let out a powerful, uncontrolled scream. The Watcher and his minions turned to see what was going on. The Watcher saw Cohen but it was something behind that caught his attention. John was carrying the child. The Watcher charged towards John. Cohen stood in his path, sword and crossbow drawn.
“Run” He shouted to the others. “This one is mine.”
“No” John shouted but Rhyll and Conrad dragged him away.
Cohen fired a couple of bolts into The Watchers chest. They had no effect. The others dashed onto the wall and down the rope. They made haste to get away from the castle whilst Cohen distracted its inhabitants. The Watcher swung wildly at Cohen. Cohen did not parry with his sword, opting to bob and weave. The anger in him suddenly subsided as he was trying to keep calm using the techniques John had taught him. He realised the full extent of his situation. He backed away from The Watcher heading towards the wall. With no bolt to fire, he threw his crossbow at The Watcher and made a break for the exit. Neither The Watcher nor his minions pursued. Cohen reached the steps leading onto the ramparts and bounded up them like a tiger. He reached the rope then stopped.
Conrad, John and Rhyll looked at Cohen, bemused, as he stood there unmoving.
“Come on,” John shouted, “what are you waiting for?”
Cohen reached around to his back only to feel a bolt protruding from it. He turned. The last thing he saw before the darkness in his vision took over him was The Watcher aiming his own crossbow at him. Another bolt had been loaded. With a pinging sound, the bolt flew straight into Cohen’s chest blasting him off his feet and over the castle wall. The others watched in horror as the limp, lifeless body fell to the foot of the castle wall.
As the body disappeared out of sight, The Watcher turned to his minions.
“Fetch me the child.”
John tried to run to Cohen’s aid but was held back by Rhyll.
“We have to help him.” John said emotionally whilst struggling to break Rhyll’s grip.
“It is too late. He is dead.” Rhyll said coldly.
“Then we must take his body with us.” John stated, still never taking his eyes of his fallen friend.
The creaking sound of the portcullis opening was heard. It had been closed behind Anree to prevent her escape.
“Listen,” Conrad said pointing in the direction of the castle, “they are coming after us. Any second now the evil within that place will spill out with the sole intent on getting Isabelle back, preferably with our decapitated heads as trophies. Think about your sister.”
John ceased his struggling. With tears streaming down his cheeks he said, “Let us away.”
With that, they turned and ran with the greatest of speed.
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Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos) Page 16
