Take the Darkness...: Epic Fantasy Series

by Schenk, Julius

  Take the Darkness and Give us the light

  Dark Gods & Tainted Souls: Book Two of Three

  Chapter 1

  Seth came through the rift of power into the other land. His horse was running strong and proud, there was shout of triumph on his lips. Then he saw what he’d not expected. Luthor, The Duke of Twin Plains was here with him. He’d expected the man to be transported to a different field or place within this land, but here he was instead, struggling to control his bucking mount as it fought against him. The black horse reared as he tried to gain control of the frightened beast, the Duke looking frantically at his hands and leg positioning, struggling hard with the reins. Seth’s horse was upon him without a thought. Often, a battle like this came down to the horse rather than the man, and Seth had trained the one beneath him himself. The white charger lived up to its name as it hit the stronger black horse hard and knocked it back with force, as it had stood on two hind feet still rearing with fear. Seth had drawn his broadsword from the leather scabbard on his back in a fluid movement, and he plunged its sharpened tip into Luthor’s chest with ease. The steel blade entered deeply into his body, right to the metal hilt with the full force of the charging horse behind it. Luthor had a moment to look up, his eyes meeting Seth’s for a second only; they opened wide with shock before he toppled off the black horse to the snow. Dead. It was over.

  Blood dripped slowly from the silver blade of Seth’s broadsword as he looked at the body. The hotness of his blood slowly dimmed as he realised the full extent of what had just happened. The man was indeed dead. Luthor, the Duke of Twin Plains. The man who had threatened to bring his army and friends grinding down on Seth was now a lifeless corpse in the snow, a victim of a bad horse and worse timing. The black horse had run off into the snowy landscape and was lost to sight in moments, long before Seth had prepared to dismount. Pulling his feet from the stirrups, Seth slowly dismounted his own white charger and led it to the body of the Duke. His chain mail armour was puckered and gripped into the wound. It might have deflected a normal blow, but not one with the force Seth and a charging horse could deliver. With hands shaking from the cold of this land, he reached around Luthor’s neck and drew forth a gold chain that held a small pouch, as well as the coin within. With a single movement, Seth pulled it from his dead neck; the coin felt hot through the pouch.

  He was free now. This man would never hurt his friends. His army was somewhere else, without their leader, and they wouldn’t act without him. The only threat left was the coin. If he managed to return using its power, how long before another from the Guild rose to take it? It had to stay here. He held the side of the coin he’d stolen from Elizebetha, and looked at it in his hand. It was bright and silver. He poured the other out of the Duke’s pouch and into his other hand. He looked at them side by side. They were so different. One was black and scorched as if it had been burnt many times, the other bright, polished and clean. As they lay in his hands, they started to feel warmer and warmer, and as the metal heated, he saw what looked like the symbol of a sun on the silver one and a crescent moon on the other.

  Before Seth could take them out of his hands, the heat became so intense that he collapsed, screaming out suddenly in pain. Seth plunged his hands into the deep white snow to stop the burning, but the coins were scorching into his skin and stuck to the charred flesh like a red hot brand. Seth screamed and screamed until suddenly the pain abated as quickly as it had come. He pulled his hands from the snow and looked at them. They were unburned, but each held a deep scar. A sun with shining rays on his right and the moon on the left.

  The coins were gone, and whether they were a part of him now he didn’t know, but he’d never been one to overthink these things.

  Seth knew there was no one way he was ever going back, but likewise, neither was that power. He thought of his friends; Elizebetha, the boys, Dagosh, the Cold Death and fine Minsetta who had been moved against him. He felt filled with calm for the first time in an age. He’d done right. His friends were safe for ever so long as he stayed here and let the power be forgotten. Looking into the distance, he only saw snowfall and white. Still, he remounted and he urged his mount on faster. Whatever was here, he’d face it as well. Northerners never just lie down and die.

  ...

  She sat bolt upright in the snow when she heard the sound. A heartbeat... no, two heartbeats. They were like gongs banging away in the dark and she could hardly ignore them in a land where she’d not heard that sound in what seemed an age. She listened to the rhythmic beat of them as she climbed out of the thin layer of snow that had covered her naked and prone body. It was a very thin layer of snow, meaning she’d only lay for a few days this time. As her perfectly white hands brushed the snow from her face and body, she heard one of the heartbeats get cut short and end. Dead. So often the way with the children of the sun, they were always killing each other; even here in the land of the dead, their mortal grudges continued when they should have been joining forces against the cold and things like her.

  Her porcelain white hands finished brushing the snow from the silver hair and pale body. She stood, a tall creature, only a fraction shorter than Seth himself, and with a mutter of ancient Northern she set forth with purposeful strides to see who was invading her land.

  ...

  The howls carried across the snowy tundra for miles. Seth had no way of knowing if the creatures producing them were on his heels or safely off in the distance. Still, he felt a thrill of fear run through his mount and spurred it harder into a run. He’d trust a horse’s sense of fear and smell over his own any day, especially this horse. Together they were one, rushing though the white snow as it gave way beneath his horse’s heavy hooves, rising to the crest of each hoof but letting the animal find its own pace. Below was hard dirt or long dead grass of some kind. Shapes began to appear behind them as Seth cast his eyes back and dread filled him. Not wolves, or even Wolvern he could bargain with, but the black animal dogs he’d killed in the room, and summoned by the Guild. These ones looked much fiercer with black eyes and mauls low to the ground as they ran with his scent in their nostrils. They looked much bigger and more feral than the ones he’d faced before, there was a pack of them, and they were gaining fast.

  Long black legs carried them fast across the snowy tundra towards Seth and his white charger as it raced ahead with fear in its heart. He gave it full rein and let it run. The horse’s strong body pushing hard, he knew it would soon fail, and thinking of the black beasts, he knew he would rather face them than not. What had he done in his life so far but run? His life since meeting the Wolvern had been running. He’d gained so much power, but running from Seraphina and the Dark Guild had caused so much trouble, Minsetta had been caught up in his flight, and even the whole of Black Rock was because he didn’t have the stones to stand and fight. A Northman didn’t run from a fight just because he’d lose: that was the coward’s path. Saying a blessing to his white horse that had won him the battle against his foe, he tucked to the side, and drawing his sword, he rolled off to the side and landed in the snow. He rolled backwards, sword not in him thankfully, and faced the black dogs as they ran on towards him.

  His white horse ran on into the snow and was soon safe and gone as the beasts descended on him. Five of the big black bastards. The first was stupid and ran fast onto his drawn blade. Seth dived into the snow head first and, thrusting up, brought his blade fast into the underside of its jaw. The creature made a muffled whimper as the sharp blade passed up through its lower jaw, through its mouth, and into its skull. He turned his body and struck out at the closest black form, and then he managed to stand fo
r a moment before it shoved him back, snapping hard at his face with feral teeth. Double rows of sharp white canines, this time snapping at his neck. He fell back hard but managed to roll and face his foes once again. This time they were smarter. The beasts circled him and picked up the killing song. It was that of a dog, not a wolf, and they barked at him as they circled. A rhythmic bark of the hunt.

  Come on you bastards!’ Seth shouted. He’d die here in the snow, but proudly. He’d spared the world the Duke, himself, and the coin. So some of these black dog things would take him down, but at least he would die knowing he’d stood and fought, not run and run and run.

  The beast facing him lunged and he snapped his blade down hard, scoring a long cut against its cheek. They were wary now and circled slower. He turned back and forth quickly to protect his back, but knew he’d soon fall if one was smart enough to try to take his legs.

  Suddenly, he saw what looked like a white blur, and a long black sword with a wicked curve appeared in one of the creature’s sides. They were big, but this sword which was at least five feet long punched right through its body, and the tip came through the other side. Seth looked at the creature wielding it and could not believe his eyes. He dropped to his knees, averted his eyes, and bowed. She was a woman like he’d never seen. As tall as him with long flowing silver hair, like a river of metal strands. Her perfect body was like that of a marble sculpture come to life, completely naked, with only a black scabbard across her pale hips.

  Her bright blues eyes looked only at Seth as she quickly destroyed the beasts attacking him. They made the mistake of trying to rush her and her speed was incredible. She moved in a blur he could barely see, except for her white body and spurts of black blood from her beasts, each accompanied by loud cries of animal pain. Soon he was surrounded by five black bodies, dripping fetid blood into the snow, and this incredible woman towering over him, looking at him with bright blue eyes. He did his best not to look at her body, which was perfect. She was lean and strong, with full breasts and even a small tuft of silver hair between her legs. He almost blushed. She looked at him with a slight smile.

  ‘You can call me Silver,’ she said, and she let the flat of her sword blade tap the back of his head, just hard enough to send him to a black sleep in the falling snow.

  Chapter 2

  Dierdra had loved him since she was 16 years old. Even then he’d been proud, strong, and had walked through a room with a sense of command and control. At the time, he wasn’t yet named the Duke of Twin Plains, but his second son, and she was the daughter of a high ranking Dark Guild member. Her own father was more revered for his knowledge of the lore of the group than his own position in the world.

  Now he’d been taken away from her. She’d argued with him that she should come down onto the field with him to meet the Northern boy, but Luthor had just laughed at her fears.

  ‘He’s a scared fool, I’ll be fine,’ he’d said as he’d walked out of their lush command tent and mounted his black horse to meet the man Seth. The Northerner had proved a thorn in their side once again, and proved smarter than either of them had given him credit for being. They should have realised that he wasn’t just as he appeared, but also the General, the Pellosina and everyone else he’d taken along his bloody path to the Black Rock Keep.

  Now she stood on the battlement among the shocked army of Twin Plains and cried. Tears ran streaking down her beautiful face as she failed at trying to being strong. She’d watched her husband in his fine clothes, riding towards the boy on his horse, and with a sense of triumph which had quickly disappeared along with love through the invisible rift. He was now in the land of the dead and surely soon to be killed. She’d been there herself, and while her memories were scattered and hard to focus on, she felt an overwhelming sense of terror and dread at those years wandering the plains as a howler. It was a cold dangerous place, and a creature of flesh and blood like him would stand out for miles. They were like torches lit in a world of darkness.

  Ignoring the cries and confusion of her men, and the standing force of hundreds around her, she ran up the grassy field towards the command tent and, pushing the curtains aside, went in. When she was alone she collapsed to her knees and bawled. She thought of all they had done together. The sacrifices he’d made to bring her back. She didn’t know if she could do the same for him, but first she had to find out if he was dead already. She knew time passed much more quickly there and an hour would have passed, at least, while she had stood around being upset and shocked.

  Going to the dark wooden desk that stood in the corner of the plush tent, she opened the top drawer and drew out a small red pouch that contained her own protective stones. Pouring them out into her small white hand, she thought of how long it had been since she’d used them. Since she’d come back from that dark cold place, she hadn’t needed them. Just fresh blood to keep her living. She’d not taken someone in many years. Still, the words were etched into her mind, and the anger and grief she felt was like a raging fire inside; she knew her connection with the man she loved, Luthor, would create a connection in moments.

  Placing the little metal cubes with carved symbols in a circle, she began the chant. Her husband had been strong and able to just think them in his mind, but she still needed to say them out loud. Her voice lifted to a dark shout that seemed at odds with her beautiful face and fine clothing as she stalked around the circle and chanted. Soon the air in the circle was that of a deep dark storm cloud. It began to thin and rip as she thought of her husband’s face, the way he walked, the way he called her his ‘little princess’, and then he was there with her.

  Tears started to flow from her eyes again at the sight of him, and she stepped back as he lunged towards her, pushing against the barrier. His eyes were black as pitch, teeth pushing from his mouth, sharp, jagged and long. The front of his fine white shirt was soaked with his life blood, and she knew that in those short minutes alone he’d been killed. This didn’t look like the man she loved at all. This clawing creature that only wanted to rip her apart... but she knew it was, and that he’d seen her like this as well, and found in his heart the strength to bring her back to the world of the living.

  ‘Guards!’ She shouted, and her two armed guards who’d stood by the entrance of her tent walked in. They were members of the Guild, as signified by the black sashes across their uniforms, but even they were shocked at the sight of their Duke standing before them as one of the dead. Still, they bowed to him and simply walked to her side.

  ‘Duchess?’ One asked

  She tried to compose herself. ‘You can see what has happened. Our poor Luthor has been killed by this Northern bastard, and now we have to bring him back.’

  ‘Is that wise, Duchess? It’s a full-time job keeping you in blood without the men noticing; if we start having to kill four people a day, they will notice.’

  ‘Just hold him and shut up.’

  Without another word, the two strong guards stepped into the circle with their master. He turned to attack them, but they had done this many times with her when she hadn’t fed in time. One ducked under his arm and locked it hard behind his back, and the other did the same, also putting a hand hard under his chin and pushing his head up. Dierdra stepped into the circle and, drawing out her metal flask, poured her fresh blood for the day past his snapping teeth and into his mouth. As soon as she began to pour, he stopped fighting them and swallowed hungrily. After just a few seconds of the precious red liquid pouring onto his tongue and down his dead throat, she saw the change begin to happen. The black eyes began to clear until they were their past piercing grey; his teeth became the normal flat teeth of a man and not the sharp deadly ones of an animal. She looked into his eyes and felt a connection of recognition there.

  ‘Husband,’ she spoke to him softly. She nodded to the guards, who released him and stepped out of the circle. With a shaking hand, the Duke wiped the blood from his face and slowly licked it from his fingers. He looked at her and recalled all of the
events that had just happened in a flash.

  ‘Am I dead?’ he asked.

  ‘You were dead, husband, but I’ve called you back, just like you did for me,’ she said with passion.

  ‘But you haven’t: this small vial of blood will only keep me sated for minutes, and you can only survive because we took so much when I brought you back the first time,’ he replied.

  She was strong, but she didn’t know if she could do what he’d done for her - killing hundreds and hundreds for her. After a moment, she nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Where can I find the sacrifices required to do that? It’s hundreds of lives.’

  She could see he was starting to turn back already, and with the sharp teeth of the dead, he spat the words out: ‘Inside that Keep.’

  Chapter 3

  Elizebetha woke with a start. Her head throbbed and swam as if she’d been drinking cheap wine like a sailor and she staggered up from her small plush couch, steadying herself with a hand on the arm. She knew Seth had drugged her, that he was gone and that he’d taken the coin with him. She couldn’t believe that Seth had finally done it - crossed over and given in to the dark voices in his head. She’d been so worried for him for so very long. When she’d first met him on that ship, he was so young, and with that look of fear in his eyes, she’d known what it was like to be hunted and she’d felt pity for him. Then she’d watched him slowly changing from that hunted and haunted boy to someone she didn’t recognise. Every day, she watched him becoming more like the creature he called, and more like what she knew of Stephan the General. She was no stranger to the powerful pull of the hunger, and she’d watched with a mixture of fear and jealousy as he took one person after another. She knew that people from the North had a very different view on the right of killing your enemies than the Pellosi did, but still he had begun to scare her.