The Silent Pact

by Genevieve Dickinson

  The Silent Pact

  The Tale of the Black Covenant: Book I

  Genevieve Dickinson

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), locations, businesses, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Genevieve Dickinson

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1984955210

  ISBN-10: 1984955217

  For Ben

  The Black Covenant

  Hear now the terms of our Covenant.

  Black we shall wear, for dark is our task.

  Hidden we shall stay, for our secrets must be kept.

  Silent we shall be, until our purpose is fulfilled.

  Innocent souls we shall sacrifice, for the way must be prepared.

  Those who would stop us we shall destroy, for our cause is worthy.

  On the final day, a being of great power, with a pure soul tormented by love for a world gone mad, shall come to us.

  We shall speak the words of the Covenant with our dying breaths.

  And on that day, our end shall herald the beginning of a world without death.

  Chapter 1

  The girl was six years old the first time she saw death.

  It happened on a beautiful spring morning. Beams of bright sunlight shone through the new leaves on the trees as she walked with her father down the old hunting trail. Everything was new and bright, the speckled light shimmering over a fresh, growing world. She smiled. She loved this time of year.

  Her father loved springtime too, she knew. She closed her eyes to listen to him sing a walking tune as they went down the trail. The old hunter’s voice was deep and warm, and hearing it made her heart feel at peace. A soft breeze flowed through the woods, lifting her hair around her and making a gentle rustle in the trees above. The girl closed her eyes and tilted her head back to enjoy the feeling. The smell of new growth surrounded her. Reaching up a small hand to smooth her hair back down, she opened her eyes and walked on.

  Her eyes fell on a shadowy grove where she knew foxes made their home. Last year, she and her father had brought little pieces of cooked meat to the den. The girl had watched in silent delight as the kits played in the grove. She felt a flutter in her belly at the thought of them pouncing at each other and the excited yips they made. There were no foxes now, though. She turned her gaze away from the shady den and back to the trail.

  The scent of heavy pollen settled over her. She sneezed. When her eyes opened, she noticed one of her favorite orange lilies blooming by the side of the trail ahead. The petals had just begun to open, painting a splash of vibrant and exotic color against the dark green grass. Forgetting the pollen in the air, she grinned happily and rushed forward to get a closer look. As she admired the flower, she noticed that other buds on the plant were still closed. Her grin grew wider. She knew she would have more beautiful flowers to look forward to as spring went on. She knelt down to take in the flower’s sweet scent, hearing her father’s heavy footfalls strolling down the trail behind her.

  As she admired the patterns on the broad petals, a spot of brown among the green caught her eye. A tiny brown bird, so small that it could fit in the little girl’s hand, was laying on the grass near the lily. It was perfectly still, lying on its side in the soft grass.

  The girl was very confused. It was late in the morning, and the other birds were singing in the trees above her. Why are you still asleep? She reached out a hand to stroke its feathers. Little bird, it’s time to wake up. When it didn’t wake, she tapped it gently with her small fingers. Hey! Wake up! It still didn’t move. Her brow furrowed, she looked up to her father, who had been watching her.

  The hunter gave a sad smile and knelt down next to his daughter. His scent – the smell of old leather – washed over her. “It won’t wake, Autumn. It’s dead.”

  Dead. Autumn thought for a moment, turning the new word over in her mind. She looked up to her father again, waiting for him to explain.

  He frowned, trying to find the right words to help her understand. “Do you see the other birds in the trees?” She nodded, and he continued. “They are alive. They can fly and sing. But this one is not alive, it’s dead. What you see is just a body. The life is all gone.”

  The girl bit her lower lip in confusion and looked around her. In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, the old hunter laughed. “No, no, sweetheart, it’s not something you can find and give back to him. Once something has lost its life, it’s gone for good. Nothing and no one can bring it back. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t. She started to shake her head, but something in her father’s eye made her stop. He’s sad, she realized. Talking about this is upsetting him. Autumn had met very few people in her short life, but she knew that her father was a good man. She didn’t want him to be sad. Keeping her confusion to herself, she nodded as if she understood completely. She was rewarded with a kind smile as her father stood and brushed the dirt from his legs.

  “That’s good. Come on now, time to go home. I think it’s about time we got dinner started, don’t you?” He stretched out his hand to help her up. Autumn nodded and took it, standing and following her father down the trail towards their cabin. The hunter’s rich voice was raised in his happy walking tune once again. His voice was comforting, but Autumn couldn’t take her mind off the little bird. It seemed so sad that it couldn’t sing anymore. She wondered about death, and what her father had said about nothing being able to bring the bird’s life back. Maybe there’s a way to stop the life from leaving it in the first place. After all, wouldn’t it be wonderful if the bird could sing forever?

  Late that night, Autumn lay on her little bed in the loft of their cabin. She had her sketchbook and drawing pencils out, working intently to get the feathers just right on a drawing of the little bird. Her father was sharpening arrowheads by the fire. The soft, rhythmic scrape of stone on metal was a familiar sound to Autumn. She stopped drawing and peeked her head over the floor of the loft to watch her father below.

  A stack of furs, bound together and ready to take into town, caught her eye. Autumn thought hard. She had never really thought about where the furs her father traded for food and supplies came from, but now she supposed it had something to do with what he had tried to explain earlier. Once their life is all gone, the animals must not need their fur. Still, it seemed a shame that they couldn’t frolic in the woods anymore. She thought of the baby foxes, and how cute they were. Did that have to end, too? Death is so sad. No wonder talking about it made Father unhappy.

  An unusual popping noise pulled her from her thoughts. She looked at her father, who had stopped sharpening his arrowheads. He heard it, too. The girl strained her ears, trying to determine what the sound might have been. Perhaps it was a bear outside, drawn by the smell of their dinner. Maybe a wolf was on the hunt nearby. More likely it’s just a deer looking for a late-night snack from the garden, she thought, trying to calm her anxious mind.

  Another crack sounded. Down by the fire, the old hunter seemed tense. He set down his arrowheads and took his sword from its place above the fire. Looking up to his daughter in the loft, he mouthed the word “Hide.” She nodded and looked around her little room to find a place. Seeing no better options, she crawled under her bed and pressed her small body down to the floor.

  Straining her ears, Autumn heard unfamiliar voices whispering outside. Is that why Father is so worried? Perhaps it was someone from the village bringing a message. If it was, it must be important to come out here this late. Autumn wasn’t even sure the villagers knew where the cabin was. Her father only went into town once a month. She was tempted to peek out from her hiding place but thought better of it. If her father was worried, she should
probably do as he said.

  She couldn’t see what happened next, but she could hear everything. The door crashed open. Her father yelled a challenge. There was a clash of steel. A low groan. A thud. Then a moment of terrible silence. After what seemed like hours to the frightened girl, a strange voice spoke. “Alright, boys, let’s see what the take is.”

  A few minutes of opening drawers and rifling through boxes later, another voice groaned. “Damn! Not one coin, no jewelry, even his arrows are shite. I told you, we shoulda picked a place in town!”

  “And get pinched by the guards?” the first voice snapped. “Look, I’m the boss here, Rafe, I pick the marks. Anyway, these furs are worth somethin’. Go check that loft while I pack these up.”

  The girl glanced around desperately for an escape route, but there was none. She heard the bandit climbing the ladder and pressed herself against the floor as flat as she could.

  Booted feet set down on the floor of the loft. The second bandit, the one called Rafe, spoke from a few feet in front of her. “Hey, Boss, this looks like a kid’s room.” She saw his feet pass in front of the bed. Then, to her horror, the bandit leaned down. A scarred face grinned at her. “Well, looky here!” A strong hand grabbed her arm and dragged her out of her hiding spot. “Boss, we got us a bonus! The Slaver pays good for kids, right?”

  The girl looked down. She could see the Boss now, a big man with a thick beard. “Ya got that right, Rafe. Bring ‘er down, let’s have a look!”

  Rafe prodded the terrified little girl towards the ladder. She climbed down, shaking like a leaf in a heavy wind. As her small fingers wrapped around each rung, she was uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the bandits watching her every move. When she reached the bottom of the ladder, she realized there was another man in the room. He was tall, bald, and smooth shaven. The third man scared her far more than the other two, though she couldn’t quite understand why. He wasn’t even looking in her direction. His attention was focused on wiping the blade of a sword with a cloth as he stood over the still form of her father.

  Father! All thought of danger forgotten, Autumn ran and knelt down next to his motionless body, shaking him urgently. Wake up, wake up! Please, Father, I need you! He didn’t wake. She thought of the bird in the woods and what her father had tried to explain to her then. The terrible realization dawned on her, and tears began streaming down her cheeks. No. You can’t. You can’t leave me alone here! Burying her face in his blood-soaked shirt, she cried silently. The coppery smell of blood mixed with old leather. She felt sick.

  Finally, a rough hand grabbed her arm and hauled her upright. “That’s enough, kid.” The Boss’s hairy face loomed in front of her. “He’s dead, and you’re comin’ with us.” He smiled at her, and Autumn hated him with every fiber of her being. He laughed as she glared at him through her tears. “Ha! You’re a little terror. What’s your name, kid?”

  Autumn stared at him blankly for a moment, not sure what to do. She shook her head.

  His hand came down hard across her face. The pain was incredible. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she was sure she’d have been knocked to the floor. “You better learn to mind, kid,” he growled at her. “Being stubborn ain’t gonna help where you’re goin’. Now, what’s your name?”

  Autumn desperately shook her head again, tears streaming down her cheeks. He raised his hand to strike her. She braced herself for another blow. The blow didn’t come. After a moment, she cautiously looked up.

  The third man was holding the Boss’s by the wrist. “Enough,” he said. His voice was calm but dangerous. “Can’t you see the kid can’t talk?”

  Autumn nodded wildly, grateful that he had figured it out. She’d never needed to tell anyone before. Her father had always been there to explain. Father. What am I going to do without him?

  The bald man looked down at her thoughtfully. “Seems like she can hear, though. That’s good. I think we found a good one here, Boss. She’ll fetch a good price. Think about it, a slave who can’t talk back!” He gave a smile that chilled Autumn to the bone.

  The Boss smiled, too. “Yeah, you got a point there, Roland. Okay, kid. I’m the Boss, this here’s Roland, and that scrawny fella over there is Rafe. You come with us and do what we say, and there won’t be no trouble. Got it?”

  Autumn glanced from one man to the other, then nodded slowly, resigned. The Boss clapped her on the back. “Good! First things first. Gather up all these furs. Here’s a sack. Now get to it!”

  The girl did as she was told. She carefully avoided looking at her father’s lifeless form while she stuffed the furs into the sack the bandit had handed her. She knew that looking would make her cry, and if she cried, they might hit her again. Instead, she focused on gathering the furs. Autumn forced back more tears as she breathed in the familiar scent. Something told her she might never smell it again. When the sack was full, she handed it to the Boss.

  The Boss seemed pleased. “Good job, kid! Okay, Roland, she’s gonna ride with you. Get a move on. I want to be out of these woods by daybreak.”

  Roland was oddly gentle with the little girl, carefully lifting her onto the horse and settling in behind her. He made sure she was comfortable, then followed the Boss out onto the road. A few minutes after they left, he leaned down to her. “Sorry, kid. Bad luck the Boss picked your house. If I’d known . . . Well, I know it ain’t much, but I’ll see if I can slip the Slaver some coin to find you a decent place.”

  Autumn had no idea what he meant. She looked up at him and was surprised to see a solemn look on his face. He feels bad, she realized. He knows he’s done something wrong and he’s trying to be kind. Perhaps he’s not really an evil man, deep down. At least he seems better than the other two. Autumn nodded slowly to show she understood. He gave a short nod, then focused his attention on the road ahead.

  She stared off into the trees. What’s a slaver, anyway? What am I supposed to do now? I wish Father was here to explain it all.

  Autumn was too tired to think about anything anymore. Fighting back her tears, she leaned back and fell asleep against Roland’s chest. As she rode away from the only home she had ever known, she dreamed of the little brown bird in the woods waking up and flying free again.

  Chapter 2

  The conference chamber in the castle was dark save for a few candles. The chill night air that drifted in through the open window did little to soothe the frayed nerves of the three men inside. They stared silently at a detailed map of the region that was spread out on the long table.

  A regal gentleman in finely-made garments frowned as he stared. He pointed to an empty spot on the map. “Here?” He shook his head. “But it’s in the middle of an open field! How could we possibly have missed it?”

  A younger man in armor raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. “You’re right, Aldwin. It doesn’t make any sense. Our men went through that whole area with a fine-toothed comb and reported nothing.” He turned to the third man. “Are you sure your information is correct?”

  The third man was an elderly aristocrat. He glared at the armored man. “I assure you, Your Highness, my information comes from a trustworthy source. Can you say the same for yours?”

  The armored man scowled. Aldwin held up a hand before the argument could continue. “Enough. Fighting like this won’t help. Lord Hart, thank you for bringing this to us. You have my word that we will do everything possible to bring your son back safely.”

  Lord Hart looked like he was about to continue the argument in spite of Aldwin’s assurances. A look from the armored man made him think better of it. He gave a resigned sigh. “Very well. I must put my trust in you, Your Majesty. May the Gods help you find my son and bring him home.” The old nobleman gave a short bow before he rushed out of the room. The armored man glared after him.

  As the door closed behind the old nobleman, King Aldwin slammed his fist down on the table. “Damn it, Kasrian! As if we didn’t have enough problems. Now we have proof that our own army can’t be t
rusted.”

  Commander Kasrian slumped down into a chair across from his older brother. “The Slaver must be paying off the generals. I know we suspected, but seeing it confirmed is harder than I imagined.” He stared at the empty spot on the map. “The Slaver has been plaguing this kingdom for far too long. I hope that old goat’s information is right.”

  The King gazed at his younger brother thoughtfully. Their father’s unexpected death five years before had left Aldwin to rule the kingdom. He was thirty-seven years old, but there were days when he still felt like a child. We’re far too young for this, Father. Why did you never warn us?

  “Kasrian,” he said cautiously, “I’ve been putting this off for far too long.” He stepped over to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You have to take this matter in hand personally. I can’t trust anyone else to do it, especially not now.”

  Kasrian shook his head. “Brother, we’ve talked about this. I’m the commander of the Royal Guard, not the army. The generals won’t stand for it.”

  “And how many of them are in the Slaver’s pocket?” Aldwin frowned. “It has to be you, Kasrian. It has to be now. Frankly, we should thank Lord Hart’s son for being such a fool. If it weren’t for his gambling, his father would never have given up the Slaver’s location.”

  “You really think Lord Hart is working for the Slaver?”

  Aldwin chuckled. “Not anymore, I’d wager.” He sat down next to his brother. “Kasrian, I’m not ordering you to do this as your King. I’m begging you to do this as your brother. Please say you’ll do it.”

  Kasrian drew in a deep breath. He looked into his older brother’s pleading eyes, then nodded, letting out the breath with a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it. I guess the first order of business is to find some soldiers I can trust. I’ll have them ready to ride by morning.” His mind made up, he stood and started to walk out of the room.