Take the Darkness...: Epic Fantasy Series (16 page)

Chapter 35

Of all the disgusting things Josette had seen and been forced to do herself in her young life so far, what she was witnessing in that tent really sank to new depths. There were already two large piles of bodies; one the discarded ones with gapping chest wounds where their hearts had been, before being ripped out with the aid of short swords and heavily mailed fists.The others, waiting to be defiled.

Her trusty dagger had already been run down the leather, and made a gash small enough for her to slip through. She crept slowly towards the growing pile of discarded bodies and, putting her small hand over her nose, Josette tried not to think about what she now needed to do. The ten or so guards in the huge tent were very distracted with their task and complained in a constant stream of profanity at the job they’d been given. It didn’t seem to upset their morality; rather, it was very hard work.

‘This is fucked. We better get some of the run-off like last time or I’m not going to be happy.’ one black sashed guard said. He was a fierce looking man who would have fit better in the camp of the mercenaries with his full beard and uniform splattered with blood. He thrust his short sword into the chest of a young soldier, pulled it downward, pushed it left and right, and then pulled out his heart. It was a well practised move, as he’d done it at least twenty times already. She winced as she heard the sound of the organ being ripped out, and a bloody trail that came from the heart as it ripped free from the blood tubes and things attached, which poured onto his leg. ‘Fucking hell,’ he said in frustration as he threw the heart into a large metal vase with no ceremony or respect. Two other guards took the body by the feet and hands and tossed it onto the pile near her.

Josette didn’t need any more reasons to hate the Dark Guild, but after seeing this and the relaxed way in which they committed these atrocities, she knew they had to be stopped, hard. She was on the other side of the pile of corpses and, taking the hand of a body, pulled it aside and began to climb through the slight hole made by it. It was slow, disgusting, and scary work. She had to crawl through the mountain of bodies to get to the other side, but in doing so she couldn’t make too much noise or movement. She didn’t want to cause an avalanche of corpses.

She worked her way slowly through, with elbows and knees, until she was laying fully flat within the pile, near the top, and could look out through a gap between two bodies. She was covered from head to toe in human blood and could feel a slow drip, drip, drip falling softly on her forehead as she lay trying not to move. Josette felt the bile rise in her stomach and tried not to throw up and give herself away, while next to her the dead face of a young soldier lay looking at her as she hid. They better appreciate this effort, as it was a lot worse than anything she had had to do in the pleasure house. Sex with a disgusting fat man didn’t seem as bad now. Still, she’d done it: she was completely hidden and had the best view in the house, and now she just had to hope they didn’t throw on too many more bodies and crush her with the weight of them.

Elizebetha had taught her many things that night in the wine cellar. Mostly, it had been training her to be a better fighter, sneak, and assassin. She’d said she was giving her the tools she needed to survive this mission. As she’d crept, she could feel the memories of various thieves and cutthroats running through her mind. She knew she could pick a pocket fairly neatly now as well, something that she could have used in the past. Some memories, though, had been visions from Elizebetha’s father, and the songs and spells he’d used to battle the Guild. He was something like their executioner, and had excelled in taking the power from others when they crossed the line, very different from the way Elizebetha had described the kindly and quiet man. Still, enemies like these inspired no pity: only fear and hatred.

The plan had changed, though. She’d been asked to stop the Duchess, which she knew she could do, but letting the Duke rise back in her place would be just as bad or worse. She had to try to take out both of them. She had her dagger and that was all, and the room was quickly filling with many black sashed guards as they finished their bloody work and the ceremony began.

The tent flap on the other side was thrown and held open by the two guards she recognised, and the blonde-headed Duchess walked in. Josette swore she saw a look of pure hunger and delight on her face as she surveyed the scene. In the corner stood a large metal vase that stood off the ground on three legs like a brassier. Inside, she knew, were the blood and hearts of hundreds of fallen soldiers.

‘Lovely job, gentlemen,’ she said in a sweet refined voice. ‘You’ve made me very happy.’  Two of the men moved the brassier or blood vase thing into the center of the tent, and around it she stepped, arranging her little metal boxes with care. Josette could see that it had little things carved on each, and the end of the circle was only inches away from her and the pile of discarded bodies; the tent was almost full with carnage.

The woman began to chant. Dark powerful words came from her sweet-looking lips that seemed like they belonged to someone else, and she stalked around the circle as she went. Josette could see the circle start to darken as the very air itself turned into that of a gathering storm cloud. She knew it was time. She started to sing to herself, so quietly. It was a simple blocking chant, but effective. She could feel her quiet words pushing against the dark shouts of the Duchess, and while she’d never said them before, they came spilling out of her. Inside, something in her knew what they were fighting, and she gave it her all.

The face of the Duchess started to grow red with exertion, sweat pouring down her pale face. Soon she was shouting at the top of her lungs and her voice started to grow rough and hoarse from overuse. Josette kept up her quiet singing and was growing in confidence as she saw the woman starting to lose her own energy and resolve. Suddenly, she stopped and the tent was dead quiet. One of the guards looked to her with a questioning look. She turned to him with venom. ‘Something’s wrong; I think there is someone in here,’ she said.

‘There are a lot of dead people,’ he said as a statement of fact.

The Duchess looked at the pile of bodies where Josette lay and then looked around the room to any other possible hiding places, but there were none.

‘Well, it’s either one of you or there is someone still alive in there, and they are Guild; any black sashes in there?’ She asked.

‘A dozen or so, but they are well beyond being alive,’ he said.

‘Make sure,’ she said.

The half a dozen guards walked over to the pile of bodies in which she lay and started to thrust their short swords into it at various places while the Duchess started her chant again. They were much too close for her to start singing again, and she just hoped beyond hell that they missed her as their sword blades slid in and out of the pile of corpses. At least they didn’t do it with much gusto. One blade thrust in next to her and into the gaping soldier’s mouth, just to add more to his humiliation. She hated these people so much. They soon stopped as the Duchess called them back, because it was too late.

The darkened cloud was fully formed, and in the circle stood the Duke. He looked like a beast and was again something she’d never seen or wanted to. His eyes were pitch black and he had huge sharp teeth spilling from his mouth. She’d failed again, and even her singing now wouldn’t work as their goal was already achieved. She thought of all she had learned from the cellar and searched her mind for something. Nothing in the Gatherer lore could help with this. They didn’t do summoning: they just stripped people’s power, and that wouldn’t work on the dead. She had to think of something and not give herself away.

One of the memories she had called out to her. It was a Gatherer who always felt afraid, he was always hiding something, and she thought she knew what. She searched deep and found his secret. He did his own summoning, as well, and was always fearful of Elizebetha’s father, and being caught. She imagined the huge black dogs that he called and the bloody work they did. She knew she could call them with her mind only.

As the corpse that was the Duke fed from the huge vase of bloody hearts, reaching in and pulling them out like bloody treats, she called. She imagined the black dogs in her mind and guided them into the rift that was already opened with a skill much greater than her own. Suddenly, they were through the rift, and without a word they were upon the Duke and the pile of hearts.

The instant carnage was like nothing she’d ever seen. She’d not called one of these things, but many, and now a pack of them came bounding through the rift on string black legs and attacked. They fell on the Duke, who was still acting like a slavering beast, and taking him between a pack of four, they ripped him apart. Sharp animal teeth sinking into his dead flesh with vigor. They fell on the hearts as well, knocking over the vase and devouring the contents like the hungry dogs they were. The vase fell so that it knocked the boxes that made the circle of power askew, and she saw it shudder. So did the Duchess. With a cry, she started the chant again, and within a few tense moments it was closed and there was only silence again, the beasts being pulled back in as they ate.

Her husband was nothing more than a bloody pile of wreckage on the tent floor, and the hearts were all but destroyed and devoured. She dropped to her knees and cried and cried. She turned to her guards. ‘Rip this room apart and try to find anyone.’ But she didn’t believe there was anyone: just her own failing. Josette had already slunk out of the pile of bodies once the black dogs had done their work, and was slinking through the bushes completely covered in blood, head to toe, but smiling. The Duchess would have to wait.

Chapter 36

Somehow they had tricked her.  She had a feeling it had happened when the Wolvern had attacked her. After that, her champion had been a very different person. He’d acted differently, walked more like a woman and with less cocky swagger, and fought very differently. Now she stood over the blonde girl who was tied to the eating table and saw that it had been her since then. Somehow, this girl could change herself and the world to look as she liked. It was a child’s power, but she’d developed it to a point which Silver could almost admire. Still, the girl had defended her, even though she clearly had no control over her, and the brute of a Northman had come back and saved her, though clearly he was only there for the girl. Silver had no idea where she had come from and assumed the only reason she hadn’t heard her heartbeat before was her powers.

She looked at the girl’s face as she lay, and liked it; she had long blonde hair, which even matted and dirty, was still fine. Refined face, and she was tough. It made sense to her now, that she had started growing attracted to her champion recently, she finally realised it was since she was actually a girl in disguise. She remembered her licking her neck with a shudder. It had only been a few hundred years since someone had touched her in any way at all.

‘Wake up,’ she said, looking at the girl. Her protectors had scattered when they saw Silver being cut free, and they were alone. Seth lay on the ground near the stone pillar, slowly dying from blood loss.

Seraphina opened her own blue eyes and looked at the woman named Silver. ‘I wasn’t really asleep, just pretending.’

‘Seems like you like pretending,’ she said as she cut her bounds and let her sit up.

Seraphina looked over at Seth’s crumpled body and was surprised she actually felt a pang of concern. He was like a force of nature, and seeing him brought low like this was a shock. She looked with concern. ‘Are you going to help him?’ She asked.

‘Why should I? I have you now, and you’re much stronger than him,’ she said.

‘You don’t have me, and if you don’t help him, I won’t help you,’ she said simply.

‘Then I’ll kill you,’ Silver said, drawing and raising her sword.

Seraphina just smiled, and then letting the image of her fade, showed that she really stood behind Silver with her own sword drawn at her back. ‘You can try, or you can stop being such a Princess and actually ask for help,’ she said.

‘I don’t ask for help. I’ve always been alone and always will be,’ she said sadly, but with defiance.

Seraphina spun her around with her hand on Silver’s pale arm and slapped her hard across the face. ‘That was for my friend the Wolvern, you’ll answer for that, but first we will help you because one thing I know is Queens, and even you’d be better than her. Now come and help him.’

Seraphina turned away with her hand still hurting a bit from slapping the woman’s face, which had been like slapping a statue, and walked down the rough black stone stairs to where Seth lay. He was breathing very slowly, and she saw the bright red blood slowly pouring from a wound in his stomach. He was hunched over the knife, with both hands on it by instinct, holding the blood in. She saw he had only minutes.His normal color draining from his face as his life ran from him.

She’d seen him run into the fray of them to defend the woman’s honour. She was his enemy and someone he should hate, but he’d still protected her from being raped at the cost of himself. She had known since the moment they faced each other in the room in Dakar that they should have always been on the same side. He was the darkest of the Gatherers, and she was perhaps the lightest of the Guild. They had to try meet in the middle. Besides, she needed him alive if she wanted to get back home.

Silver walked up next to Seraphina and looked at the fallen champion, Seth.

‘He protected me with his life as he should, mine’s more important’ she said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it.

‘Who is he to you?’Silver asked.

‘He’s my enemy, He sent me here and killed my uncle.’ Seraphina said as a statement of fact, and there was no conviction in the words.

‘Then why help him?’ Silver asked.

‘When you’re surrounded by enemies on all sides, you take what friends you can get. That’s why I’m friends with you.’

‘We’re friends?’ Silver asked with shock on her face.

Seraphina laughed. God but this creature was a lonely sort. ‘Sure, why not? Now heal him up and let’s escape before more of your brethren come along.’

Silver lent down next to Seth and, reaching out with her strong pale hand, pulled the dagger from his stomach. He grunted as she did and his blood flowed more freely. Drawing the bloody blade across her hand, she made a cut and pressed it against his wound. As she held it there, the blood flow stopped and then the wound began to heal. She then pressed it to his mouth and let the silver blood drip into his mouth. Even deep asleep, his body recognised it and drank. Within moments, he opened his eyes.

From his position on the ground, he looked at the faces of Seraphina and Silver. Both beautiful powerful creatures who probably wanted to kill him. He simply sighed.

‘Seraphina, Silver, you save me just to kill me again?’

Seraphina just laughed and, taking his hand, pulled him up.

‘No, Seth, there’s only three of us and we’re going to stick together until the end,’ she said.

‘Oh, that’s good... but there are actually four of us, you see.’

As he said the words, the Wolvern with its beautiful white fur came bounding into the clearing with a flock of humans trailing behind him.