It is not as if the Harbingers have never experienced setbacks. The organization's history is fraught with betrayals and catastrophes that have kept it from achieving its ultimate goal.
However, this most recent failure points directly to myself. I was the architect behind the plot to overthrow the Conclave of Mages.
I only hope that the prophet is in a forgiving mood tonight.
The place where we are to meet is an old manor house on the edge of the city, an abode that has sat vacant for quite some time. It is built in a row of similar-looking manor houses, wrought from white marble and constructed in a blocky, timeless style, similar to the edifices located near the center of the city.
I find the building with little trouble, spotting it amid the others by its overgrown garden and boarded windows.
Forcing my feet forward, I make my way to the front door where I can see the Emblem of the Chosen scratched upon its surface. Before heading inside I produce my mask from my pocket, bringing it up and affixing it to my face in one smooth motion. I do not know how many of my brothers and sisters will be present in this meeting, and anonymity is important even among allies.
The only person who knows my true identity is the prophet himself.
Satisfied that my face is properly concealed, I place my hand on the latch and open the door, stepping inside without another moment’s hesitation.
The inside of the manor house is dark, as is to be expected, but I can see a faint light glowing in the room up ahead. Striding down the hall, I soon find myself in a wide room lit with flickering candles, a custom among the Harbingers. Candlelight represents the ephemeral glow of the true Light, shining down on mankind, dispelling the darkness and exposing men for what they truly are.
Standing amid the candles is a figure that I know all too well, a towering individual shrouded in mystery and bearing the wisdom that only a Speaker can attain.
The prophet.
I drop to my knees before him, bowing my head reverently.
"My lord," I say humbly from beneath my mask. "I live to serve you."
The prophet does not reply immediately, instead remaining quiet for a long moment, as if considering. Then, finally, he breaks the silence. "Rise, my child. We have much to discuss."
I push myself up to my feet, standing tall before the deep blackness of his hood.
"Much has happened in recent weeks," the prophet remarks, almost off-handedly. "I must say that I am disappointed in much of what has transpired."
"Forgive me, my lord," I say, bowing my head in disgrace. "I take full responsibility for the escape of Zara Dennel and the failed assassination attempt. If I can but have a little more time, I promise that I will redeem myself."
"More time?" The prophet asks, his voice suddenly full of anger. He takes a threatening step toward me, causing me to shrink away. "You let a mage who has spoken with me face to face escape, and then you have the audacity to ask for more time?" His words are spoken with such venom that at first, I am taken aback. I have never seen the prophet speak in such a way.
Then, as suddenly as his outburst arrived, it disappears. I can hear him take a deep breath from beneath his cowl, as if to calm himself down, and watch as he smooths out the front of his robes with black-gloved hands.
"Regardless, our strategy is about to change. There has been a... development, you see."
I try to keep my voice from sounding strangled with fear. "A development, my lord?"
He nods his hooded head. "Yes," he replies. "The missive we sent beyond the Arc has been received, and full communication has been established. The Speakers have been hard at work the past several days, and at long last we have been able to do what no other Harbinger has been able to do in history. I have spoken with the Prince of Darkness."
The terror I had felt just seconds before flees away as he utters these words, and is replaced with unadulterated excitement. "You actually spoke with the demonic prince?"
The prophet nods his head again.
"My lord, this is amazing news! I – I am honored to serve you." I drop to one knee, bowing my head in deference.
"Yes," the prophet replies, his tone ominous. "This is an extraordinary development, one that ultimately brings us closer to the day of reckoning. But as I said, this changes things. The Prince of Darkness has a special duty for us to perform, and we will do it using every resource that we possess."
"Whatever it is, I am yours to command," I reply fervently.
The Prince of Darkness is ruler of Fallen Byhalya, the last demon lord remaining on our miserable world. The fact that the prophet has managed to speak with him directly is a feat unparalleled in the history of the Chosen.
The prophet regards me before going on, his dark eyes glittering in the light of the candles. "In this new order, there will be little room for mistakes. Everything needs to be executed perfectly for us to achieve our ultimate goals. Imperfections will need to be cut away, like infected tissue from the wounded man. Only then can the brotherhood become healthy once more."
I look up at him sharply, suddenly wary again. From the shadows around us, I can see movement.
Hooded figures enter the room from the darkness, more than a dozen creeping in from side passages and hallways that I had thought empty when I entered. My brothers and sisters watch me from behind their masks, their gazes heavy with judgment.
"Failure must not be tolerated," the prophet continues, his tone becoming regretful. "In life we are all subject to the consequences of our actions. Not even I am exempt from this truth."
"I have only ever served you with full purpose of heart," I say, beginning to sweat beneath my cloak. "I swear to you, my lord, that I will make up for the problems my actions have caused. Please, give me a chance to prove my worth."
"The time for proving one's worth has long passed, Elwyn Mathis," the prophet says, causing me to stand up in alarm.
Names are sacred in the brotherhood. Did the prophet really just use my name in front of my brothers and sisters?
"My lord," I say weakly, my mouth becoming dry. "Please..."
A swift glance around the room reveals the gleaming knives in everyone's hands, the knives they have just pulled from the folds of their cloaks.
The prophet gives me one final look before turning his back on me, his figure retreating through a door on the far side of the room. "Kill him," he says over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.
The circle of people around me begins to close in, their daggers coming up in a deadly ring of blades.
"No!" I yell, spinning around and searching for an escape. "No, my lord, please!" He does not hear me.
Then, all at once, they descend like wolves, knives flashing violently in the light of the candles.
THE END
Thank you for reading Bringers of Doom! I sincerely hope that you enjoyed it. As an indie author, I put my focus on the stories that are getting the most attention – mostly in the form of reviews. If my books aren’t getting reviewed, that tells me I need to put my focus elsewhere.
That being said, I’m not going to release book 3 in this series until Bringers of Doom has at least 10 reviews and Ranger’s Oath has at least 20. If you’ve enjoyed the Arc of Radiance series so far, please be so kind as to go back and review my books. This tells me how my writing is being received, and will help me improve and grow in my author career.
Thanks, and have a wonderful day!
-Blake
About the Author
Blake Arthur Peel is a fantasy junkie, and has been since his youth. Growing up on a consistent diet of video games, cartoons, and fantasy novels, he has always created worlds and stories in his head. Now, he finally has the opportunity to give life to those worlds by publishing his own novels.Nowadays, Blake lives in Tennessee with his wife and two boys, who are well on their ways to becoming nerds just like him.Follow him on Instagram @blakearthurpeel, or on Facebook at facebook.com/blakearthurpeel.
Read more at Blake Art
hur Peel’s site.
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