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

by Schenk, Julius

  He screamed in rage and grabbing the girl’s hand, put his other on the hand of his sisters. They would help.

  Chapter Thirty-Five.

  Seraphina opened her eyes, her hand in his. She felt such a thrill of terror and saw a smile on his face. He seemingly loved it every time she was scared. As soon as she opened her eyes she regretted her decision to help him. Moments before he was screaming in rage but her fear had improved his mood like a drug. He was truly a mad man. Whatever had happened, she didn’t know but she was glad, the weaker he was the better.

  “Don’t judge us too harshly for where we live, no choice is given on how you imagine us,” he said. His words made no sense to her, he often spoke on the nature of gods like she should know what it was.

  The landscape that greeted her was like the land of the dead when she’d first arrived. The moon hung in the sky and the landscape was dead and barren, thankful there was no snow, it was a desert at night. In the distance stretched a short road and before them was a huge stone keep, it looked like Blackrock. Huge stone walls, the door hung open.

  She walked with her hand in his, his hard and firm, he almost crushed her hand as they walked, he was enraged. She almost didn’t want to ask but he seemed to ramble on when in one of his fits.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s wrong that I’m even here. I shouldn’t need help and I wouldn’t have if you’re idiot friend hadn’t found the bringer and brought him back,” he said, again she had no idea what he was saying.

  “What’s the bringer?” she asked.

  He looked at her like a fool child. “The sun, the sun in the land of the fallen. Who do you think locked it away? And why? I had my own world, a world of so much fear I could draw power from. Now I need to seek help to finish what I started all those years ago. It’s disgraceful.”

  They walked up the dirt road and through the stone archway and open gate. Inside it was deserted but the Keep stood open with the orange light of a fire coming from it. At the doorway stood two huge black dogs. They were like the creatures she’d seen in the land of the dead. Large vicious things. Ugly and with sharp feral teeth. Instead of barking or attacking they bounded from the steps and ran at them. She almost laughed when they jumped up on the man and she could see they had tiny stumps of tails which wagged like dogs happy to see their master.

  The man laughed and petted them, then with a word sent them running back to their positions of guarding. She was scared again.

  “They are yours? They are horrible things,” she said.

  “You seemed to think them useful when it came to gaining other people talents,” he said back and led her onwards.

  They walked into the Keep and she could hear the sounds of laughter and music. They walked down the hallway which was completely bare of furnishing and hangings, it was just cold stone. They walked into a huge open hallway, which was like a dining room. It took all her strength of will not to run then. Even what she’d seen with Silver and her people couldn’t prepare her for this. Truly she’d chosen the wrong side.

  In the room was a huge fireplace. Three women sat at the table laughing and eating. All around them were huge wooden crosses that lined the walls, People were chained to them all facing away from them. Their backs a bloody mess of whip marks and gaping wounds. Some cried softly but others were silent. In the corner stood two fiddlers playing soft music, she could see they were chained to the floor with massive metals cuffs around their feet.

  As he walked into the room, the music stopped and the women stood. Clearly guests were very rare. The tallest of the sisters looked at them. She looked exactly like her statue. Her eyes cut deep into Seraphina and she felt it like a pain in her head. She felt the woman running throughout all the memories and things she’d done, the people she killed. The woman looked at her and smiled, her teeth were sharp like the Wolvern and her arms were indeed feathered and had claws like a bird. Her face was beautiful and she was topless with perfectly formed breasts and a long flowing dress that covered only her lower half.

  The woman ran to them and embraced the man.

  “Hello, brother, free at last, we could feel you coming, so it’s time then and you need our help I’m guessing,” she said. Her voice was fine and sharp, she had no accent Seraphina could pick. But her words were like a dagger in her ears. She held his hand harder and the pain stopped.

  “Oh you can let her hand go, we know how to commune with people,” she said and her voice seemed softer.

  The man let go of her hand and she was fine. Three women gathered around her and looked at her.

  “And what do you have here? A live one in our realm that’s strange, and she came here with another it seems.” She said.

  She hated all these things could read her mind like an open book. plus she was feeling very much like these were evil things and now they knew she thought that.

  “We do know you think that,” said one of the other sisters laughing. “But we are just as you need us to be.”

  “Truly Seraphina,” said the elder sister. “All these men,” and she waved her hand at the ten or so broken souls who stood on the racks. “Needed to be punished, our agents took them in life but they needed to suffer more. Rapists and killers of women everyone.”

  “Indeed sisters you all look different what has happened to you,” he said.

  The eldest looked at her arms and claws and down at her own breasts. “I think I look quite fetching, every few years my statues get more and more dramatic, too much?” she asked.

  “A little bit and maybe put some clothes on, it’s making her uneasy,” he said.

  “Oh,” said the sister and laughed. Before Seraphina’s eyes, they all changed just like her own skills. The arms became that of a normal woman and her dress seemingly grew to cover her nudity.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Much, now the hounds. I only saw two? They all well?” He asked with what seemed like concern.

  “Of course, come and we’ll show you I know what you’re like.”

  One of the younger sisters took his hand and led him back out of the Keep. The eldest came to her side and took her hand, it was warm in hers, she smiled as she led Seraphina out.

  “Fear not girl, we are not like our brother, you’ll see, we were just like you once. I was a girl myself around four hundred years ago,” she said with a laugh as if remembering something in the recent past.

  Seraphina was stunned, now she was a god and she’d once been a girl.

  “What happened?” Seraphina asked.

  “Oh so many horrible things, men doing horrible things to us, gods playing with us, revenge, blood magic, you know the old story. Our brother as we call him isn’t really our brother, more like he’s our adopted brother, he took pity on us and helped us and now we’ll help him,” she said.

  As they walked from the Keep they followed the man and his youngest sister. Seraphina was stunned at the way they were with each other. She held his arm and chatted to him gaily like she would have with a brother if she’d had one. They were monsters but seemly didn’t know it themselves. Soon they came to a vast clearing that was next to the Keep. In front of her stood a huge stone patio area, behind that was a vast forest of tall trees it was the only life she’d seen in this place.

  “Where are they?” he asked turning.

  “Out running around in the forest,” the lead sister said.

  “He gets so worried about the ugly beasts, personally I think they stink but boys love their pets,” she said laughing.

  The man put his fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle. She felt an apprehension growing in her as she heard the barks and calls in response. Soon came the sound of thundering paws in the hundreds. The man walked out into the vast stone field and waited. Soon they came. She was horrified. First one then, ten, then twenty, soon there were hundreds and hundreds of the huge black dogs filling the field. He laughed at the sight of them as they all fought to reach him. The man yelled
a single word and they all sat down.

  He turned back to them.

  “Oh you’ve done so we’ll sisters, but why so few of them. I thought we planned on more?” he said.

  More? How could there be more, there were, at least, four hundred of them. The night was filled with their panting breath and the stink of dog and death. This was his army and they all followed his command. A mindless beast army ready to do whatever he said.

  “It’s all that Silver bitches fault,” she said with passion.

  “We send them into the land of the dead to feed and now they hardly ever come back, it’s changed brother, it has the sun now and it’s all been ruined, we have no idea why.”

  “I know why,” he said looking at Seraphina, “that bloody Druheim, he brought back the bringer,” he spat the word.

  “But how could a mortal do that? Even a Druheim, it’s beyond them; she said and she looked genuinely shocked. “I thought it was one of the others.”

  “It was him trust me, but it matters not, there is enough and we’ll be fine, are you still ready to help me?” he asked.

  “Of course brother, we’ll help you, just tell us who we need to kill and please tell me it’s her,” she said with passion

  “Of course sister you can have the Lady, she’s strong still but in a matter of days that will all change, my agents are ready to take her main temple and we’ll lead these against her and the others here.

  The woman clapped and laughed, turning to Seraphina.

  “You’ll see, we're going to change it all.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six.

  Whatever the girl it had put in his drink it had worked a charm, for about an hour. It was long enough to watch the others at his table slump their heads down and fall asleep. His final challenge the old mercenary looked around the table his words slurring and saw it was only them left. The booze had finally caught Goldie and he could barely focus on the mug in front of him.

  The man looked at him and smiled.

  “I want you to win. I just wanted to be the second,” he said and with a wink he placed his head down on the table and let himself sleep. The crowd who had wandered back and forth and had many drinks themselves slowly relished he was the last man standing. The priest looked beyond bored and simple raised Goldie’s drunken arm, which was like a lead weight and said ‘Winner’.

  The crowd clapped and cheered for him. Goldie let his own head hit the table then. His eyes so peacefully closed for just a moment when he was shaken awake again. It was the boy. He had a mug of something in front of him.

  “No I can’t drink anymore” Goldie slurred.

  “This is from the girl, you’ll need it the sword fight is in just moments, you’ve been given another pass and just get to fight the winner, but it’s already been going on for a half hour and the winner will be decided soon. Drink.” The boy said.

  Goldie looked at the brew and taking the rough mug to his lips drank it down like the nectar of the gods. It tasted different, dirty and foul. It didn’t burn his throat but stuck in his mouth and tasted like rotten fish.

  “I’m really sorry,” the boy said and then stepped back.

  Goldie felt it. A rising tide of sickness that he couldn’t fight. He managed to push himself back from the table. He crawled the short distance in the mud to the side of the street and began to vomit. The crowd laughed and laughed as he was sicker than he’d ever been in his life, whatever they had given him brought it all up. He almost cried it was so awful. As he finished for the fourth time, he realized his head was much clearer, he still felt drunk but a lot better. He stood to see the boy near him. Goldie took a swing at him. It missed, but was close.

  The boy laughed and passed him another mug. “Water, I promise.”

  Goldie washed his mouth out and spat it out, drinking the rest.

  “With friends like you kid I don’t need enemies,” he said.

  “Come on, that just saved your life. How do you feel now?” he said.

  Truly he did feel better, almost all the booze was out of him but he felt weak and wretched. He needed to gather himself for one last push. He knew this was the last challenge and would be the hardest. Whoever was the winner of the sword fighting would be full of energy and pride of winning, not half asleep and falling over. Still Goldie would trust the Lady could help him one more time and claim him as her disgusting vomit smelling champion, he needed a bath.

  Goldie walked with the boy to the small arena they had set up for the sword fighting. He was in time to catch the tail end of the match which would decide who he was fighting. As he pushed through the crowd, many of the people patted him on the back and praised him.

  “The lady is with you,” one lady said, it was the woman who had been pickpocketed.

  “I have been slack with my prayers and visits to the temple but now I see she still has the power to help. I’ll say a prayer for you.” She said.

  “Thanks” he muttered and found his way to the wooden barrier that held the crowd safely back. Goldie leaned hard against it, letting it take his weight and watched the fight.

  It was a strange battle and one that would only occur in a place like this. The two men facing each other were as different as night and day. One was a dark skinned wild man. He’d seen them in the Cold Death. His hair was matt of tangled locks with bones and pieces woven in it. In his hand, he held a huge hooked blade which he swung wildly as he shrieked at his opponent. The man he faced was typical noble. He wore clean refined clothes, light leather armor and held a rapier and dagger. It was always good to see fights like this, a man with a rapier sometimes only fought others with the same weapons and did badly against a sword like that. Not that he tried to block it.

  The wild desert man swung his sword at him in a series of cuts from the shoulder downwards, again and again, driving him back. The man had great footwork and dodged every attack hitting again and again at the man’s wrists and hands. Goldie saw there was blood pouring from them. As the wild man swung downwards, he literally drove forward and rolling up brought his blade underneath the man’s throat. He stopped the blade so that it pointed there, showing he could kill him. They could draw blood but not kill, they weren’t savages.

  The crowd cheered and the winner was hailed.

  The fat sweating priest walked to the center of the wooden ring.

  “As we know this man is the champion of the sword but must now face Goldie who has won the right from his previous victories. Master Goldie, you’ve won many hearts today but given your performance at the drinking tables I don’t like your chances here.”

  The crowd of people laughed as he staggered into the ring.

  Goldie’s own fighting prowess had always been brawling. He’d been in plenty of fist fights and against men as big as Flint and Stone. He’d taken a lot of knocks but always held his own. Growing up as he had fighting was a normal daily event. But the sword had never been a part of him like it was to Seth. He’d trained with the broadsword and his stolen memories from the brigands was a mishmash of various lives of robbing and killing nothing like the daily training in an actual style like his friend here must have had. He looked like some rich merchants son. He’d trained a bit with Farirkar but that wouldn’t help him now. He needed to be creative if he was going to beat this man, he needed to do something he’d never expect.

  Goldie walked to the center of the ring, his head was clearing at the thought of the coming fight, but his legs still felt weak and his stomach was hurting.

  “Have you got a sword?” the priest asked him. He’d lost it gambling.

  “I lost it gambling,” he said, the crowd laughed.

  “A true son of the Lady has anyone got a weapon for this man.”

  The old mercenary man was standing by the side of the ring and called out to Goldie. Goldie staggered over to him.

  “Your fucked lad, this pretty boy is way better than you but I have an idea, he reached into a huge bag that hung over his shoulder and started pulling out various we
apons. A short mace, axe, two daggers and then a pair of very heavy mailed gauntlets.

  “Wear these and use the daggers, he’s a little hand cutting sneak.”

  Goldie put on the steel plated gauntlets which were a good fit and held the dagger, then thinking changed his grip on one. He held one point forward and the other backwards.

  Walking again to the center the man looked him over.

  “Daggers? Are you sure? It’s not really fair. I mean you’ll lose to quickly and we do need to put on a bit of a show.” Goldie just grinned stupidly at him. He felt strange, the weapons seemed like a good choice, at least, his hands wouldn’t get all cut up.

  A bell rang and the man lunged hard at Goldie with his rapier. Goldie barely managed to sidestep the attack. The thin blade went through the loose material of his clothes. He wasn’t messing around. The man thrust again and again with Goldie avoiding and then remembering his weapons, slashed with his backhand. He felt something as he did. That felt good. He let the first blade also fall into a backhanded grip.

  He dodged a thrust catching it on his left blade and slashed with the right making the man jump back and then it came. A flood of knife fights, of killing people for money and more than a few deep cuts and damage. One of the brigands they had taken was a knife fighter. Bless him and his black heart.

  The man thrust forward and brought his own dagger point forward, Goldie blocked both on his own weapons and lashed out with his forehead at the man lunging forward. His tough Northern skull caught him right on the point of the nose. It was a move from his own life and one he’d done many times.

  The crowd gasped as the man flew back off his feet clutching his face. His blood hitting the polished wooden floor. That changed the mood. Suddenly he could see some hope in the people eyes, he might win. His head was swimming from the move but the booze always helped to do that one.