Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3)

by Schenk, Julius

  Anything bad always happened below ground so she made her way to the basement. She slunk to the doorway and listened. She waited long enough and then she heard it. The regular footfall of someone bored on guard duty, doing the same walk up the down the halls. She waited till they passed and looked. She saw long flowing hair, a sword and leather armor, serious. She crept slowly after the woman, shadowing her and slunk off into the next open room.

  She crept in and looked around. It was bad. The room was filled with rack and racks of clothing. Many shoes and dresses hanging on racks and bags of clothes. Were these what the women brought with them? Why didn’t they need them now?

  Josette looked from the room and saw a doorway. A simple wooden thing and looking at the light beneath it looked like a staircase, it could only go down. Slinking across the hall she slowly turned the handle, which was unlocked. She opened it and slunk down.

  Thankful it was dark within. Faint candlelight shone from the bottom but that was all. She crept down the stairs holding her breath and hoping they wouldn’t crack and spotting some large barrels slunk behind them and crouched in the darkness, she looked through the gaps in them and watched. Slowly her eyes became used to the dim light and see saw her first glimpse of the divine child.

  The priestesses were fierce. They had heads shaved on the sides and slicked to a point with something, feathers at their arms. They were indeed tending as midwives. Around them lay cots and cots of big bloated pregnant women but they were so warrior like, it made her draw back.

  One woman called to another. “This one is ready, another boy, she’s done well this time.”

  A woman spoke to another in a loud whisper, her fine ears picked up. “That Pellosi slut has had a girl, what should we do?” she asked.

  The woman glared at her. “That’s good as well, the numbers continue to be fairly even, take the boy to the other camp.” Josette waited until they were clear of her and crept back up the stairs slowly. She’d seen enough, these women whoever they are they were bad, anyone this organized was always bad, she’d get back to Minsetta and see if she knew more.

  As she crept up the stairs, she passed so closely to the guard who had just passed the door. She froze and held her breath, her heartbeat sounded so loud to her but soon the woman continued her bored walk onwards.

  Josette crossed back to the room she’d entered, she reached out to turn the handle when she heard a soft laughter behind her. She turned and saw The matron from downstairs. Her cold eyes were soft with enjoyment and she smiled at Josette.

  “Good work sister, it’s nice to see someone else taking the time to hone their skills, you one of the new recruits?” she asked.

  Josette stood up fully and smiled back. “You can never be too good, yes I am new,” Josette she said and put her hand out.

  The woman locked wrists with her like a warrior and smiled again. She was still very tall and scary and had dried blood on her hand, Josette didn’t want to think where those hands had been.

  “I’m Angelina, since you’re new I’ll give you the tour, you’ve seen downstairs already you little sneak but the real reason you’re here is a few rooms up.”

  She walked taking Josette’s hand and led her up the silent stone passage to a doorway. It stood open, with no door and within she could hear soft whispering and candle light. All bad. She had no idea if this lady actually thought she was a new recruit, probably not, but she’d play along. She loosened her dagger from the small of her back, getting it ready.

  When she entered the room she was stunned. Before her stood a statue, or rather three statues. One stood in the middle and two smaller ones beside her. The woman depicted was clearly some kind of goddess. She had the body of a woman but had feathered arms and the claws of a bird. She was in the pose of attack with sharp teeth and eyes that glowed red, they were very large and expensive rubies that reflected the firelight. She was terrifying. Beside her stood two smaller ones but similar, all around women knelt as if in prayer to this thing.

  “isn’t she beautiful?” the woman spoke to her.

  Josette had to gain her breath. Nowhere in any memory had she ever seen anything like this.

  The woman looked at her. “Oh I see, you know little of our ways, just some runaway slave and heard we could protect you from the world of men,” she said and patted Josette’s hand.

  “Something like that” Josette said quietly.

  “The sisters of fury, they are called, they listen to our prayers and they bring down justice and pain onto the heads of any men who hurt women. They use their godly powers to look into the hearts of men and punish them”

  “How?” she asked.

  “How should the wicked be punished? With death, with pain, with regret, they suffer and then they die, it’s truly what so many of them deserve.”

  “And downstairs what was that about?” she asked.

  “The women we raise in the way, we train them as warriors so they won’t be victims. The boys are taken to another camp and trained by good men. They are taught to fight as well, but to respect women and the respect the true order.”

  “What order?” Josette asked.

  The woman laughed aloud, startling a few women praying. “That women are meant to lead, make the decisions and rule. I don’t need to tell you, men are fools, everything they do is stupid, they are ruled by their cocks.”

  “Oh, you don’t cut them, do you?” she asked, horrified.

  The woman laughed again. “Of course not. Do you know how babies are made? We need men but they need us more and that’s what they learn, my own husband was born in a temple like this, lovely man, always has my dinner ready just how I like.”

  Josette laughed at that, still this was far from the temple of the divine child, there had been a vast change in ownership.

  “Now girl, I’ve been quite nice and share with you our ways and secrets, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here and why you have a beautiful friend crouching outside who looks a lot like Minsetta, my old and dear friend.”

  ***

  Grimm had seen them moments too late. He’d been standing and looking at the bald man who knelt before him and suddenly the landscape was filled with soldiers on horseback charging from the tree line. It was a very bad position to be running from horsemen, but like his new dark-skinned friends ran, so did he. They were outnumbered four to one.

  They were used to fighting forces much better armed and numerous than them and they had the good sense to break in many different directions. He saw the men scatter in pre-organized groups of twos and threes. In totally different directions, breaking the body chasing them. They ran fast on long legs, firing behind them with arrows where they could. Still it was only moments before the horsemen were on them.

  Grimm swiveled his body as an arrow whistled past his ear. The large white horse was on him. Grimm jumped to the side and rolled hard into the soft sand, avoiding its charging body and the swinging sword of its rider. He pulled a small dagger from his back as he came up and threw it hard at the soldier that rode past. The dagger tumbled through the air, end over end and sunk point first deep into his unprotected back. All around him, he saw that the desert people were having it hard.

  They had run to any cover and were returning arrow fire, or escaping from the line of sight and just staying hidden, their skills at hiding in the landscape saving them. Others were less lucky. He saw a good handful cut down from horseback as they ran to the safety of the darkness. Well-dressed men slashed down at them and cut them down like shafts of wheat, in sprays of blood and screams in their fine lilting language.

  White Eyes was next to him suddenly.

  “We need to get out of here. The men know where to meet and any that survive will come, but we need to get ourselves away,” she said.

  Grimm had to agree with her, this wasn’t his idea of a fight he wanted to be in. He ran quickly across the sand and grabbing the dead men from his horse pulled him down. The animal was well trained and had jus
t stopped still when its rider slumped dead in the saddle. Grimm grabbed the reins and leapt from the ground into the black leather saddle with a slight grunt. He turned the horse with a flick of the reins and kicking it hard pulled it next two white eyes. Reaching down he pulled her up behind him easily. He was glad it was a big horse, strong and she wasn’t that heavy.

  They rode fast behind the rough line of the horses and soldiers. She looked out behind him and leaned back. Pulling her bow she fired into the near darkness at the spots just above the horses saddles. He heard cries in the dark as they rode closer and closer. She fired as fast as she could taking the riders coldly from behind, but saving her own running people.

  As they passed one panting man who’d just had his pursuer taken down he grinned at them. He heard white eyes yell something at him as they passed. She whispered in his ear to keep riding and they did. Soon they were pacing hard away from the sounds of fighting and cries of men dying and then they were in the moon-filled land with just the sound of their horse panting hard.

  He felt her tap him on the shoulder. “Don’t push the poor beast too hard, you’re too heavy,” she said. He could hear a deep sadness in her voice.

  “Are you ok?” he asked.

  “No, those men were my friends, we’ve been hunting and surviving together for years and now they are gone, maybe just a handful will escape, died with arrows and sword cuts in their running back, hardly a good way to die,” she muttered.

  He had to agree with her, he knew he’d have to go facing is foes if he wanted to die the right way. Still twenty against a hundred wasn’t fair odds.

  He’d slowed the horse to a walk. All around him, he could just hear the stillness of the night. The moon shining down on the space land, the warm of his blood cooling. It would be peaceful if not for what had just happened.

  “What did you talk of? Many words were spoken that I could not understand,” she said.

  “It’s just classic war strategy, those men are cutting the supply lines, whatever is going on with all these gods and powers, for us it’s simple, they want to crush anyone who believes in something different, not because they are zealots or don’t believe but because by weakening us they weaken something else as well. They kill the priests, they destroy the temples and the things they believe in get weaker as well.”

  “Why now?” she asked.

  “I think they have been doing it for years, this is just the last push,” Grimm said.

  He knew it was true. Through all the memories of the Dark Guild and gatherers, he saw the Order of the Learned. They moved like a growing shadow over the years. Killing and desecrating. Burning books and silently murdering anyone with power or a direct connection to something higher. How much knowledge was gone from the world by their hands, how many ways and gods had been forgotten because of them.

  “What should I do?” he asked.

  “Just keep riding. We’ll meet up with whoever has survived, but I need to think,” she said and slumped against his back into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter Twenty Eight.

  Seth staggered from the arena, blood dripping from the light cuts on his forearms and pain lancing through his arms and shoulders. Swinging that huge sword around had taken such a toll on his body. He could feel his muscles screaming with pain and exertion with every labored breath he took, since when was killing such hard work. Seth made himself grin and forced a laugh. This is what he was, just a normal man, no gifts, no strength more than what his body held. He didn’t know if he’d ever get them back but that was fine. They had always been as much of a curse as a blessing, it was the gifts which made the Guild chase him but he’d miss the knowledge and the feeling of being something special.

  At the end of the arena of sand stood the open mouth of the metal gate. It stood open and he walked through it into the cold of the strange building. Around him were the bare stones of a fighting arena and the smell of stale blood and sweat. The cracked marble floor held the stains of old blood of who knew how many years. Seth saw a light at the end of a large hallway and pushed himself towards it standing taller and trying to shrug off the pain and exhaustion. He pushed the door hard with his hand and let it swing open.

  Darkness again. The room beyond was completely black. He gathered his courage like hands cupping a fledgling fire and walked into it. He walked with a hand in front of him like a newly blind man and shuffled into the darkness, with stumbling caution. It was so vast and encompassing, he could feel it like something real, like walking into a thick snowdrift.

  He felt the natural fear of the night coming to him. Nightmares as a boy of all the things out there in the dark and cold nights. The creatures his parents had told him stories of. Am I Druheim or not? He thought. Raising his head high he strolled through the emptiness until he saw it, the same as before. A doorway with a small crack of light, but this time, it was just a doorway but the light-filled him with hope.

  Seth pushed it and it opened with a creak. It was stuck and rusted. Seth hit the door hard with his sore shoulder and fell into the room like a drunk trying to leave a tavern. He tripped over the doorway and fell hard onto the marble floor. Cursing loudly Seth picked himself up off the floor and looked around the vast room he’d tumbled into.

  All around him were statues, lines, and lines of them. If he had Goldie’s gift for numbers he would know the number, but it looked thousands. Some wood or rough stone others metal or polished marble but all depicting creatures and beings in various poses. All the gods he’d ever heard of and many more he hadn’t. They looked like statues he’d seen in any temple in the cities he’d visited but of characters he didn’t know, they all crowded each other but left a line for him to walk down.

  He walked on looking at them as he passed. Most were ones that he’d never seen before, but others he had in his trips to Pelloss and different cities or remembered vaguely from the many people the general had taken in his lifetime. They were the gods of his time and times before his. The statues looked back at him with cold blank impassive faces.

  He was surprised at the difference in them, not only the materials but the seeming lack of love. Some were stone with jeweled eyes that glittered in the light that seemly came from nowhere, fresh offerings of wine and flowers at their feet, clean and bright, they seemed to radiate with power, but others were neglected. Crumbling stones and rotting wood.

  He looked at one that stood to the side of the pathway. It was carved of wood and looked very old, it wasn’t a man or woman, but a small deer-like creature. It stood on its hind legs and had a human looking face, an old man. In its hand it held a small harp, around its feet were weeds growing up from the cracked marble floor of the room. Seth looked at the harp and the statues face and body, what was it?

  Seth cast his mind back and tried to think of what this creature was. Clearly some very old forgotten legend or god, one of a thousand statues in this room, but lost over the years. Seth looked at the wood that made it had been carved from running his hand over its rough surface. It was northern oak, so his people.

  What stories had they of some music playing wood creature, music never played a big part in any Northern legends and certainly not a harp, they liked flutes and drums. Seth realized he had pulled out his dagger and was gently scraping away the moss that had grown on the wood of the statue. Next to the statue he noticed a small glass bottle of white spirits and a rag next to it he’d not seen at first.

  “That’s good for wood, keeps it from rotting, strong.” Seth dipped the rag in the spirits and rubbed it over the statue, slowly letting it soak into the wood making it shine with a dark color from the wood beneath.

  “Oh I’ve got it, you’re the one that sings to sleeping children and keeps them from crying, it’s so the wolves won’t come. I guess a deer-like fellow like you isn’t a big fan of wolves,” he said.

  “Oh you’ve got a name, but you’re not a god, sorry friend you're just a helpful spirit, you’re a Drighan, that’s what you are.” As Seth said
the word he’d half expected something to happen but it didn’t. The wood wooden carving was still and lifeless as before.

  “No? Not a Drighan? Wait you’re really old, like Silver old, maybe I’m saying it wrong. He said the word in a much older northern which he remembered from a childhood tale. I think they say it Driaghhame.” As he said the word, he heard something. It was like a slight buzzing in his skull. It was like what he’d felt in the arena but much weaker, was it trying to commune with him?

  Seth laughed. “You like that? Driaghhame, Driaghhame, Driaghhame!” he shouted. As he looked the wood of the statue slowly changed before him. Starting from the feet up Seth watched with wonder as the wood came back to life, the health and color of the carving changed, deepened until it looked like a freshly made work.

  “Well friend I have to journey onwards, but good luck to you, if I get back I’ll tell my little brothers that you’re ok,” Seth said.

  Seth gave the Driaghhame a little pat on the head and set off. What was this place? It seemed to hold statues of every god or creature that people had ever imagined. That one had responded to him words and his regard. How long had it been since people had spoken of it, now old a few old wise women in the north, once mothers probably said a prayer to it over crying babies. The Northern people believed in some many spirits and beings, always blaming them for every minor good or bad thing that happened like losing your boots or stubbing your toe.

  Seth walked onwards. Around him, the statues were all mostly broken and crumbling. Unlike the Driaghhame, they were all stones. Men, women and creatures he knew nothing off, all crumbled and ruined. He walked over the fallen bits of them that lay in the aisle. He felt sorry for them in a way, once revered now forgotten, but he knew nothing of them, and couldn’t help.

  As he walked Seth came to a row of tall solid statues on either side and laughed.

  “Of course, you useless fucks are fine,” he said.