by Brian Murray
“Don’t be rude,” admonished Sharn. “No pointing.”
Taking his wife under his arm and lowering his daughter to the ground, Gammel proudly presented his family to his friend. “Rowet, this is my family. My wife, Sharn and my daughter, Kreen.”
Rowet looked at the man’s family and then into his eyes. This was the family Gammel had tried to protect in Evlon, his kin he would kill for, and Rowet could not begrudge the man. He saw the closeness of the family and smiled. Stepping forward, he kissed Sharn on the cheek, then knelt down to look at Kreen. The child buried her face against her father’s leg. Gammel bent down, picked up his daughter and presented her to his friend.
“Princess, this man is an emperor and my friend.”
Kreen looked into her Bear’s eyes and saw comfort there. She turned to Rowet. “Hello,” she whispered. “Is that your wife?”
Rowet turned and reached for his wife’s hand. “Yes, this is my wife.”
“She’s very pretty, is she an empress?”
“Yes, she is.”
Rowet introduced his wife, Rena, to Gammel and his family. The group moved to a bench with a table full of refreshments and they enjoyed the afternoon sunshine. Towards dusk, Gammel rose and beckoned Rowet over to join him. Kreen had fallen asleep in Rowet’s lap so he passed the child to his wife, then rose and followed the former smithy, leaving the two women chatting quietly.
“You know this is the afterlife, and you have no place here yet,” Gammel gently informed Rowet.
“I was brought here by the Divine One to rescue my wife. And for your help I am forever grateful.” Then it struck Rowet. “When?”
“In Teldor, at the palace steps.”
“I’m sorry, truly,” said Rowet sincerely.
“Sorry? I’m not. I’m here with my family,” said Gammel, peering over his shoulder at his wife and daughter. “But you cannot stay,” he added softly.
Rowet looked up into his friend’s eyes, unable to hide his disappointment. “Why not?”
“Because this is the afterlife and you still have a role among the living.”
“But . . . ”
“Sorry my friend, you cannot stay. The Dark One’s army will be marching through a gateway to your lands. You’re needed there,” insisted Gammel, reaching forward and softly squeezing Rowet’s shoulder.
“Was the Darklord not defeated in Teldor?” asked Rowet, confused.
“It was all a trick and the Dark One now roams your world. Look . . . ”
Rowet turned, to be faced with a picture of pure horror. In front of him was an image of an army marching. An army not of men, but sinister beasts and creatures that were indescribably horrific. They killed all in their path—nothing survived. The picture changed; Rowet watched closely as people made a stand against the beasts, driving them back towards the sea.
“For the Dark One to be defeated,” explained Gammel, “you have to play your role in a game—the game is one of life or death. It’s that simple. This is the most dangerous game being played. You must go back and help. Without you, the world will turn into this.”
Before the Chosen, there now materialised an image of scorched black lands and skies filled with deep crimson clouds. People, shackled at the wrists and ankles, were herded towards a black palace. Pushing them along were guards, shrouded in ripped grey robes with deep hoods, controlling their captives with iron tipped whips. The picture slowly faded, but Rowet had seen enough.
“The Dark One will besiege your city, and hold it captive. You must hold him at bay and wait for our friends. Only together, as a united force, will it possible for mankind to be victorious. You must hold on and wait for our friends.”
Rowet again turned and faced his wife, who looked up at him, smiling. His heart melted but he could not help looking down at the floor with a heavy heart. From that smile, Rowet knew she knew. “Aye,” was all he said. Later that evening under the stars, Rowet sat on his wife’s favourite bench, his arm around her. Then they rose and entered the palace, and went to bed.
During the night, Rowet got up so that he could watch his long-lost wife. A chair was placed in his bedroom for him to sit and observe her peacefully sleeping. His body felt totally relaxed but his mind was in turmoil, battling against conflicting thoughts, emotions and choices.
Beside him, the Divine One appeared and softly spoke. “You have to return soon.”
“I know,” said Rowet, not taking his eyes off his wife.
“You must take Gammel’s words seriously. You must be prepared for the dark forces you will face. They will be like nothing man has fought since the Dark Wars. Prepare your city for war. This will be the key to winning the battle. The war and mankind’s future hinges upon your preparations. You must be ready.”
“I will, but I just want to spend some more time with my wife. Please.”
“Remember one thing: you must protect the Children of the Light. They must live, or the Dark One will never be defeated.”
“I will remember. I promise and they will both be safe.”
“Thank you.”
Rowet turned to the Divine One and lifted Her hand. Kissing it gently, he said, “I have always believed in You. Thank you for this moment.”
The Divine One left the Emperor of the Phadrine alone with his thoughts, as he watched his wife sleep. Rowet rose from the chair and returned to bed. He put his arm around his Rena, who nuzzled into him. He closed his eyes . . .
***
Rowet woke in his darkened room with a start and reached out. He groaned. He was alone. Reaching up, he touched his face. He had not dreamt it. On his cheek, he traced a fresh scar where the creature of darkness had scratched him with its talon. It had happened. He had rescued his wife; she was free and waiting for him in Paradise. He rose from the bed, his emotions mixed: the joy of freeing his wife, and sorrow—for now he missed her more than ever. Remembering Gammel’s words, he put on his robe. As he opened the door, the guards looked at the Chosen, puzzled. One entered the room, weapon drawn.
“It is fine, I am safe,” assured the Chosen
“But . . . ” started the guard pointing, “your face.”
“Do not worry about that now. I need Master Armourer Platos brought to me.”
“Now, sire?”
“Aye, now, we do not have much time.”
Rowet turned and re-entered his bedchamber while the guard raced through the palace to execute his command.
***
In dancing torchlight, the Kharnacks and Rhaurns battled the Dark Brethren. The sheer weight of numbers allowed the black-armoured soldiers to push the warriors back towards their cave. Thade still stood next to the Silverswords champion, Chahar, defending each other. Near the cave’s entrance, Dax and Tanas battled beside Maldino’s son. The evening air was chilled, but the men’s bodies steamed as they fought with their weapons of steel. From the corner of his eye, Dax saw the man he wanted. To his left the figure of General Polalic came into view. Using his rage as an ally, Dax screamed out a battle cry and surged forward. With venom in his eyes, the warrior used his two short axes to carve a path through to the watching general, leaving only death in his wake. Vengeance dominated Dax’s mind.
Tanas sensed Dax move and stayed with him, defending Dax’s back. He knew the warrior was after something and sensed the general who killed Gammel and his family was near.
Thade heard Dax’s battle cry and risked a look up. Seeing the general standing tall, Thade pushed forward. Chahar remained at the former gladiator’s side.
***
King Zane had a quiet day and visited Aurillia, calling in on her father. Zane found the man had regained his strength and his tavern had reopened. On his way back to the palace, he stopped at the City Watch offices. Zorain and Conn greeted Zane warmly and they spent an hour discussing the city’s security. Over the past weeks, many had joined the ranks of the City Watch. However, a company of the Royal Lancers still patrolled the city, boosting their numbers. The docks and Down To
wn remained quiet as the shock and fears from the siege were still fresh in the citizens’ minds. In fact, there was very little trouble.
Zane arrived back at the palace around dusk to meet his mother and sister for supper. After dining, Zane returned to his office where he read reports and documents on the palace, Teldor, in and beyond his Kingdom. After several hours of reading and writing notes, Zane retired to his room to sleep. He kept his own room in the palace, leaving his mother to reside in the official royal residence.
Zane dozed off to sleep. His mind drifted to Aurillia and their plans to marry. She would make a wonderful queen and the young king was extremely happy with life. He pictured her violet eyes, long black hair, and full breasts . . .
***
Zane opened his eyes with a start and found himself in the palace gardens in Teldor. He gazed around, initially fearful, but then he heard a sweet musical voice. A voice he had heard before.
“Good to meet you again, Zane,” said a woman in a white flowing dress with long silvery-white hair.
“It is good to see you again, my Lady,” replied Zane, bowing.
“Please Zane, let us sit down we have much to talk about.”
Zane sat down opposite the Divine One and smiled.
“It was You in my dream in the cave. You woke me from the sleeping spell.”
“Yes, it was I.”
“Why?”
“I am the protector of the few Children of the Light who remain pure and true.”
“Are you saying that I’m one of them?”
The Divine One looked at Zane and smiled. “Yes.”
Zane sat stock still for a moment staring at the woman. “What does it mean?”
“In time, you will come to learn what it means. But at this moment I have something to tell you. I must inform you that the Dark One again walks your lands.”
Zane sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “How did this happen?”
“That is now history, but you are one of the important links to fulfil an untold prophecy. You must remember your friends, all of them. They will come to your aid, as you must help them. They will go to the depths of Hell with you, for you. Remember this, you are part of the prophecy and the One will ultimately succeed.”
“I shall remember that, but what is this prophecy?”
As Zane finished his question, the sky above them darkened and the ground started to rumble. Zane looked up at the sky as it filled with menacing black clouds spreading out from a single epicentre. The seat opposite him was empty; the Divine One had disappeared and he sat alone in the oppressive darkness. He slowly rose to his feet, gazing around at the changing scene. All was black and dark, gothic and terrifying. Zane stepped back as several pairs of glowing red eyes penetrated the gloom.
***
Dax pushed forward towards the Dark Brethren’s general. Behind him, Tanas fought to protect his mentor’s back. To his left, Thade and the Kharnack clansman, Chahar, also battled through the Dark Brethren’s ranks. All around them, both the Dark Brethren and Kharnacks fell in a violent bloody mess as swords slashed flesh, pluming blood into the air.
Gan-Goran closed his eyes as the shield spell drained his energy, but he did not give in to the combined power of the Dark Brethren’s magic. Instead, the old magic-maker pushed out with another thought spell, forcing back the fear spell into the black-clad warriors’ minds.
The carnage continued as the Kharnack got the upper hand, now seeking revenge. Dax felt a new surge of power in his limbs and pushed forward, his death-dealers, his mighty short axes, covered in blood as he killed all in his path. Behind him, Tanas moved to fight beside the older warrior. Then Dax stopped fighting. He faced the general and smiled a smile of pure malevolence.
Dax spoke two words. “Remember me?”
Slowly, amidst the carnage, Dax put away his axes in their harness and gracefully pulled clear a massive broadsword. A master blacksmith had forged the mighty weapon for his son who also became a smithy: the best of his generation. The sword was a beautiful weapon created with love, great skill, and pride.
Dax held in his hands the weapon once wielded by his friend, Gammel. In front of him stood the man who had taken Gammel’s love away, murdered his family in cold blood. In front of him stood the man who had taken his friend’s life, before he got his revenge. Time seemed to slow as Dax glared at the black-clad general. Dax screamed his roaring battle cry. Lifting the sword above his head, he attacked the stunned general.
***
Zane realised he was now armed. Strapped to his back were the two short swords forged by his late friend, Gammel. He drew his swords and waited—he did not have to wait long. From his right, a beast charged the Rhaurien King. Slicing high and stabbing low, Zane cut the beast across the throat and stabbed it in the groin. The creature did not make a sound; no blood escaped from the wounds. It just disappeared in an evaporating column of black smoke.
To his left, two red eyes appeared and to his right two more sets glowed with anger. Zane became aware he was the only being in the area bathed in light, a light which seemed to be emitted from Zane’s very core. He was a Child of the Light, and his body glowed with goodness—drawing beasts to him. He wondered why the Divine One had disappeared. Then he realised with horror, he had been tricked by the dark forces and needed to escape. But where to, and how?
Again, one of the creatures pounced, slashing high. Zane jumped back as the beast tried to rip out his throat with its long, sickle-shaped talons. The young king gathered his wits but the beast was already upon him. Fighting with both swords, he cut the beast across the arm. It was not enough. The beast slapped Zane backhanded, sending him sprawling on the scorched, blackened ground, lifting fine powdery dust into the air.
The beast loomed over the fallen king, pure murderous intent glinting in its orange eyes. A blade struck the beast from behind, decapitating the creature. Instead of fluid, a dark mist fizzed from the wound. Suddenly, in a sizzling hiss the creature evaporated into smoke. A hand reached down. Zane clasped the man’s wrist and was helped to his feet. He stared in shock into the older man’s eyes.
“No time now son, we need to get you out of here.”
“Where is here?” Zane managed to ask.
“Somewhere you do not want to be. Now let’s get you home,” said Logan, Zane’s father.
For the first time, father and son fought back-to-back against the beasts of darkness. Zane felt a surge of pride. Logan, using a shortened broadsword, slashed and killed all the beasts that attacked them. Back-to-back, the king of the Rhaurns and his father, the former king of the Rhaurns, battled on in a place where evil alone existed. But that was not important now as father and son battled together, to defeat that darkness.
Logan was so proud of his son, fighting by his side. After a while, all the beasts of darkness were killed. Logan bellowed a command and the skies lightened. In a heartbeat, the surroundings changed and they were back in the palace grounds in Teldor. He turned to face his son with a broad smile. The pair had a long, affectionate embrace. Plunging his sword into the ground, Logan pulled his son towards a bench and the two men sat down close together.
“I have been watching you, my son. You have made me so very, very proud,” said Logan with a tender smile.
“Thank you, Father.”
“Now you must listen to me carefully; we do not have long. There are dangerous times ahead of you—Dark Times, in fact. The creature called the Dark One walks our lands again and he must be destroyed. You are the link to his destruction. Remember that, my son, and always remember your friends. They’re as much a link to the Dark One’s demise as you are. Look . . . ”
Logan pointed to a small circular pond. Even though a gusty wind blew around the men, the water stopped rippling and an image of the Dark One’s army shimmered across the surface. The scene was from the previous Dark Wars. Zane watched as the Dark One’s army took control of the lands, leaving a swathe o
f death and carnage in its wake. Leaning closer, Zane made mental notes of the man-beasts and other creatures he had seen before, which formed the bulk of the force. The image swirled on the pond and slowly disappeared. The water began to ripple, gently lapping against the stone banks.
Zane remained staring at the rippling water and softly asked, “How do we fight them?”
“That’s for you to decide, but remember your friends. I must leave now, son, but remember I am very proud of you. Go home now and prepare. The Dread will be marching to Teldor first, and you must plan. Tell your mother I love her and am waiting for her.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Zane, standing. Father and son embraced. Zane closed his eyes, stopping the tears from rolling down his face.
***
Zane again woke with a start in his bed and looked around the room. All was the same; all quiet. You must plan, echoed his father’s words in his mind. Zane threw off his bedcovers and darted across the room. Opening the door, he called for one of the axe-wielders guarding the corridor, giving orders to send a page to get General Brooks immediately. Zane got dressed and made his way to his private chambers. He had a lot to plan. Teldor would again be under the threat from the forces of evil. But this time the danger was not of this realm . . .
***
The drug-intoxicated Dark Brethren relished the fear pulsed by Gan-Goran and counterattacked with extra verve, hacking and cutting. The fear and the bloodletting intensified the effects of the balamine plant drug. Their frenzy pushed back the surviving Kharnacks and the three Rhaurn warriors. Thade was pushed back away from Dax. Chahar, fighting next to the former gladiator, slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled to the ground, luckily avoiding a decapitating swing from a Dark Brethren warrior. Another Dark Brethren with madness dancing in his eyes raised his sword high, ready to plunge down with the killing blow.
***
Tanas felt the weight of the Dark Brethren push him away from Dax. He quickly realised the fighting was turning in the enemy’s favour. Next to him Maldino’s son, Kavlon, fought using a frantic, desperate defence. Farther and farther the two were pushed from Dax into the clutches of more Dark Brethren, who fought a rear guard behind them. The two men felt as if they were at the centre of a bloody Dark Brethren pie.
