The Dark Crown

by S C Gowland

  A small wave of relief swept over Kaoldan as he glanced back at the group. Slowly and in increasing numbers, figures emerged from the dark forest into the evening gloom. They gathered and moved together along the main road, flickering torches hung at regular intervals leading to the main entrance surrounded on each side by silvery, waving fields of grass. Kaoldan let out a long breath. They were nearly home.

  If it had been any other person, they would not have seen it.

  It began as a dark outline, something that could easily have been dismissed as shadows in darker clouds. But it had a shape, a consistent menacing shape, which moved with ease and power towards them out of the evening sky.

  The shout from Kaoldan came too late for many of the refugees and slower moving injured. It landed just beyond the trees straight on top of them with incredible force, like a deep boom of thunder, their screams quickly silenced.

  Coloured orbs began emerging from each dead body - showing the losses to be great - rising into the sky gently; a rainbow of death as the orbs headed to the Abyss.

  The creature thrashed around them, dwarfing the screaming and scattering horses. It let out a piercing screech; body juddering, wings unfurled; a silhouette of oily black against the coloured orbs and grey of the evening. Veins coiled and protruded from its main body, they rippled and pulsed, something underneath squirming to be free.

  It screeched, raising its long neck high into the air. It shivered as it stood to its full height, calling out again, but sharper this time, body shifting a mass of coiled tendons. There was a crackling sound; like a thousand eggs breaking at once. It cried out as if in pain, main body fractured, sections of black veins peeling away like dead skin dropping to the floor.

  The veins slithered, coiled together to form shapes; legs, a torso, arms and then a head; like men made of tree roots. A dull orange glow began to grow within each one, then they moved as one towards the refugees.

  Tren had automatically turned to face the melee. Kaoldan kicked him into a run and reached for his Walkerblade. He was still a few hundred metres from the lumbering creatures, a cold wind whipping in his face. Faintly he could hear other Walkers on pantheras following his charge towards the conflict. His breaths deep and heavy as Tren charged.

  The creatures advanced. They were tall and slender, about twice the height of a human. They had the shape of men but appeared to have no skin. Merely black tendons, like sickly twisted tree branches, moving like a herd of elephants; lumbering and heavy set. The treemen began tearing into the wounded and families around them striking, left and right stamping and crushing to screams of pain and agony. Twisting and turning, searching for more to kill.

  It was a slaughter.

  Pleas for mercy quickly silenced.

  More green, blue and yellow orbs began rising into the night sky.

  ‘Tren, Run!’ barked Kaoldan.

  Tren shuddered, relaxed, and then ran, his thundering paws tearing up large chunks of the grass and soil beneath him, and quickly he began to outpace the others.

  As Tren raced forwards Kaoldan began gathering his will and felt the warm familiar tingle of the Fajin rising and gathering within him. Kaoldan reached for his Walker-blade and it flashed into a large green warhammer. The treeman at the front of the advance braced itself, raising its branch like arms in protection of the advancing Walkers, but it was of little consequence.

  The shock-wave of the impact when Kaoldan’s Walkerblade crashed into the creature’s raised arms, combined with the power of his Fajin strike, knocked the creature clean off its feet and backwards several metres. The treeman struggled to rise, seemingly groggy from the impact – allowing Kaoldan opportunity to morph his Walkerblade into a large heavy single bladed axe. He gritted his teeth, swinging it in huge arcs, straight into the head and neck of the creature. The green blade bit with a dull, heavy thud. The creature made no noise. No cry or scream. No blood. Merely silent, as they continued to deal death around them. It took several heavy blows to the neck of the creature before it began to slow, as its head began to topple, twisting to the side before falling off. The creature fell to its knees with a crash and then collapsed onto the floor.

  Strangely, no orbs emerged from the body, only the orange glow within it disappearing like the embers of a dying fire. Kaoldan spotted Zalen and several other Walkers following his lead and began hacking, swinging their blades towards the head and neck of the creatures. Dozens of other Thuran warriors, dressed in light grey and blue armour, had now joined them, attacking with long handled spears, pikes and arrows. The treemen fell back.

  Out of the corner of his eye. Kaoldan saw something, he squinted. Icy fingers began to creep around his heart.

  It was his red, deep burgundy cloak sprawled - like a pool of blood - across the ground. He nudged Tren closer.

  The fingers around his heart grew tighter, squeezing at his insides. The cart was a wreck; axels pointing in the air, wooden wheels splintered and shredded. The clang and crash of the battle around subsided to a dull hum. It was the blue shawl flapping in the breeze that confirmed his worst fears.

  The old woman’s arms were spread outwards, body face down. Close by the burgundy cloak, lay the young boy's body on the ground, one thin pale arm reaching towards him pleading.

  Jayk - he felt his guts turn to water.

  He turned away, trembling, ragged breaths in and out, the air cold. He set his jaw hard and looked again. The arm still pointing, but terribly still.

  Kaoldan paused and on instinct turned to see the winged creature, some distance away from the main battle, simply watching. It made no attempt to help it slowly floundering treemen, it merely sat.

  A deep rage grew in Kaoldan. He gritted his teeth, and he turned Tren to charge. The creature, as if sensing the imminent danger, turned its long neck and snake-like head in Kaoldan's direction. It then rose, perching on its two rear feet, but waited.

  This was too much for Kaoldan, the arrogance of this damned creature. He roared and kicked Tren into a full-blooded charge. He was aware of his own heavy breathing and the thunderous sound of Tren bounding across the grassland. As he approached the creature suddenly spread its huge wings and pushed easily into the night sky. It was at this moment that Kaoldan caught sight of the angular and dark shaped rider close to the head of the creature.

  The rider in long flowing robes watched Kaoldan approach with no hint of fear. The creature slowly hovered safely in mid-air as Kaoldan reined Tren in. The rider observed Kaoldan and then laughed. A twisted cackle, which resonated clearly despite the slow flapping of the creature’s wings.

  ‘Pathetic,’ spoke the rider. It’s voice whispering and hoarse. ‘If this is the might of the human; we shall conqueror you swiftly and completely.’ It hissed.

  ‘You are as nothing compared to us. You bleed, you have fear, you are few.’

  It laughed again. ‘You have no comprehension of what is at hand, so timid and concerned are you for your kind; it blinds you to all. When He comes, and He will, nothing will be able to stop us.’

  Kaoldan said nothing, jaw grinding.

  The rider laughed once again and then with a powerful push of its wings the creature soared up into the night sky and was gone.

  Chapter 2 - Appetite

  The next morning, Kaoldan awoke late. His room, although light, warm and inviting, had not encouraged the sleep he had really craved. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, then sat for a few minutes with his head in his hand at the end of his wooden bed. Pushing away the familiar nightmares, the clouded faces, the heat and the smell of burning and inevitably the same feelings; panic, anger, fear and loss, and the dazzling array of lights from orbs.

  The arrival of a cold, wet nose and short, wiry fur being pushed into his lap brought him back to reality. He looked up, blinked and smiled.

  ‘I wondered when you’d find me.’ Kaoldan said.

  Sat patiently in front of him was a tall, square muscled pile of coarse short black fur. It had a long pink t
ongue sticking out of his distinctive bushy beard and eyebrows and deep black eyes. It seemed to be struggling to control itself, waiting desperately for permission.

  ‘Come here Dref’ gave in Kaoldan.

  With permission granted, Dref did not waste a second before pouncing straight on top of Kaoldan. Given his considerable size, Dref the dog almost winded Kaoldan. He began nuzzling and whining with happiness.

  ‘You’ve put on weight.’ winced Kaoldan.

  Dref did not seem to take such an observation well. The playful wrestling between the two - who had not seen each other for a while - continued for several minutes before they collapsed into a heap on the wooden floor.

  ‘Did you miss me?’ Kaoldan asked.

  A deep bark back suggested so.

  The following playful yelps and growls then sort to update Kaoldan that such behaviour was not acceptable to a giant Schnauzer like Dref and that going somewhere dangerous would not suffice as an excuse for leaving him at home in the future. Dref cocked his head to one side, to emphasise his point and one of his tall pointy ears drooped over his head.

  It all made perfect sense to him.

  Kaoldan smiled. He had missed his furry friend.

  He had found Dref, as a small and slightly fuzzy ball of black fur in a village that had been attacked by the Krund in the early years of the war. He was the sole survivor of a small litter of puppies. The bodies of Dref’s mother and small siblings lay still by his side as he let out barely audible whimpers. Strangely, it had been Tren who had directed Kaoldan toward him. Since that point on the panthera and the dog had developed a special if slightly unusual friendship. They ran in fields together, Tren always winning races, but Dref always willing to keep trying to beat his much larger friend. Dref was most definitely the noisier of the pair. Growls and whines. His attempts to draw something more substantial than silence from his feline colleague - conversation was difficult. What was not difficult for anyone to see was the close bond between them. They had travelled hundreds of miles together on long and complicated adventures with Kaoldan and had grown inseparable, but that was another story.

  Despite his fitful sleep and the events of the previous day still fresh in his mind, Kaoldan thoughts immediately turned to food. He was ravenous. He bathed and was finally able to shave in the warm waters of a wooden bath in a pale coloured and lightly lit room before dressing in a soft grey top, suede leggings and brown boots. It was good not to have the face the prospect of cold, wet armour for a change. He belted his Walkerblade to his waist and prepared to head downstairs. Sniffing the air and sensing a good chance of sausages, Dref followed by his side as Kaoldan slowly walked down the wooden stairs case towards the kitchen.

  The chapter house was on the edge of the city which Kaoldan had called home over the last few years had always been to his liking. Once the residence of a spice merchant, it had become a new and very much welcome home to Kaoldan and his colleagues. The main house had four floors, naked wooden doors, a minimum of plain furnishings and lots of warm, natural light.

  Strangely, it had always smelt of jasmine, a legacy perhaps of the previous occupant, and despite the many gloomy days that had passed, with worsening and more worrying news regarding the progress of the war. It had also been a place that had not only provided him with time for his thoughts and a chance to move on with his life, but had been a place of laughter, smiles and friendship as well. Many memories had no doubt been absorbed by its high, thick sandstone walls.

  The large wooden door creaked as Kaoldan entered the kitchen.

  ‘About time you were up.’ announced a deep voice at the far end of the kitchen. The owner of the voice had his back to Kaoldan and was slowly stirring a copper pan with a large wooden spoon. Whatever its contents, it smelt delicious.

  ‘Let me guess, you’ve been up for hours?’ said Kaoldan.

  ‘Can’t really say, I hadn’t really noticed the time.’ replied the cook who slowly turned to face Kaoldan, who had taken a seat at a large stout wooden table. Kaoldan looked up to see the familiar face of Kubrean.

  Despite being considerably older than Kaoldan, Kubrean never appeared to get any older; his dark skin sharply contrasted with his white teeth, his long thick grey and white dreadlocks tied back in a simple ponytail and his trimmed silvery beard. Under his brown apron he was dressed in a simple white shirt and dark trousers with brown riding boots, his signature outfit.

  He was tall with broad shoulders, with a keen eye for a good beer tavern and a love of cooking. Despite these potentially unhealthy hobbies, Kubrean was a powerful built man with a barrel chest and enormous arms. Kubrean was mainly a modest, relatively quiet and thoughtful man, he was also the most intelligent person Kaoldan had ever known. His deep voice was not powerful, but when he spoke people listened. Be they Kings, Queens or members of the Royal court, they all listened.

  The surroundings of the well-equipped and always well-stocked kitchen were his favourite. Kubrean was at his happiest when surrounded by all manner of vegetables, fruits, spices and meats. He would spend hours chopping, dicing, curing and cooking; creating new meals for which there was never a shortage of willing tasters from within the household. Kubrean was a fellow and more senior Grey Walker and had been Kaoldan’s mentor, friend and confidant for more years than he could recall. He had been able to reach Kaoldan when others had not and had helped him make some sort of sense of the madness of the world. Kaoldan loved the old man dearly and any time away made the world seem a greyer and more confusing place.

  ‘Breakfast would be good.’ said Kaoldan.

  ‘Yes, it would.’ replied Kubrean with a flat tone. Who then placed a large nearby plate of bacon and sausages on the floor with a loud clatter in front of a very pleased Dref. Kaoldan looked on in shock and began to raise his hands in protest when Kubrean cut in.

  ‘Breakfast always firstly goes to those who obey the house rules.’ explained Kubrean.

  Dref looked up smugly before continuing to devour his meal.

  ‘Why did I have to hear about the attack last night from people other than you?’ he continued. ‘We always talk things through before sleep, why was last night any different to normal?’ he asked raising a bushy eyebrow.

  ‘I don’t really know.’ replied Kaoldan with a shrug, looking down at the floor. ‘Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour or simply the fact I was too shattered to discuss it.’ He looked up and attempted a small smile.

  ‘Fair enough.’ snorted Kubrean before returning to the stove and his copper pan. ‘Maybe bacon and eggs will help remind you how we do things here.’ he glanced back at his friend with a reassuring smile.

  ‘So, what do you know about last night?’ asked Kaoldan, making himself comfortable at the table and reaching for a wooden cup of water.

  ‘People died and other people are very worried. They are wondering if Ul’Thadra is looking at Thura next. Mainly they are worried for their lives.’ replied Kubrean while slowly stirring his pan. ‘Anyway, you look at it, it’s not a good development and goodness knows we need something positive right now.’

  ‘It was erratic, reckless and stupid, but not something that is necessarily out of character for Ul’Thadra,’ said Kaoldan. ‘Maybe he is just getting that bit braver, or overconfident. Either way, it will unsettle a great many people so in some ways it was worth the effort and losing, whatever those things were.’ He shrugged. ‘I take it you’ve been out to have a look at them?’ asked Kaoldan.

  ‘Naturally,’ replied Kubrean. ‘Nasty looking things, but what else would you expect. They’ve turned hard as stone; we can’t move them either. Nice little reminder for the good people of Thura I’d expect. If Ul’Thadra is trying to make a point, it’s worked.’ said Kubrean. ‘But you were able to kill them and that I am happy with. As long as they can be killed, we stand a chance.’ said Kubrean, plating up a large portion of eggs and bacon, with homemade brown bread and butter. Kaoldan was suddenly consumed with hunger and tucked straight into the breakfast
.

  ‘I’m not too worried,’ said Kubrean taking a seat with a cup in his hand.

  ‘Too worried’ frowned Kaoldan.

  ‘Okay, I am worried.’ admitted Kubrean, shrugging his shoulders ‘but we’ve seen bigger, nastier things, right? Do you remember those crab things in the desert of Emn?’ Kubrean leaned on to the table, hugging his drink. ‘Horrible, stubborn big bastards. Took twelve men to kill one, as I remember. Now they were trouble. Armour like nothing I’ve ever seen, but once you got into them, mighty tasty. Fed us for days!’ He erupted in a roaring, hearty laugh.

  Unable to help himself, Kaoldan smiled. ‘Always able to find a practical use for things, aren’t you?’ he mocked his friend.

  ‘Waste not, want not’ replied Kubrean, sitting back, resting his large boots on a chair. He grinned like a crocodile; his bright smile was one of the main reasons Kubrean never seemed to get any older. He always looked so healthy and happy.

  ‘Anyway, enough of that,’ said Kaoldan. ‘Do we have any idea what they were doing so close to Thura?’ The bacon and eggs were divine; salty and spiced and disappearing far too easily.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Kubrean, removing his feet from the chair.

  A creak of the large wooden door behind Kaoldan announced the awakening of another member of the household. Lauden was the youngest Walker in the household and as usual strolled into the room having just carried out some sort of exercise. Wearing a sweat stained dark short sleeved top and loose trousers. He placed his hands on his hips as he took a long thirsty drink of water from a tall cup near the doorway.

  ‘Must you?’ complained Kaoldan. ‘Some of us are trying to keep our appetite.’

  Ignoring the comment, Lauden finished his drink and then simply smiled at Kaoldan. Although not as tall as Kaoldan and some twenty years younger, he was more powerfully built, and his dedication to keeping battle ready and in the peak of physical condition was plain for all to see. His bright smile grew as he spied the breakfast and his blue eyes glistened, at odds with his short black hair.