Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Prince Thellas was awoken by sounds that roused him in a state of fear. He’d been dreaming of dark shapes, of people chasing him that he couldn’t escape and sharp animal teeth. Thellas threw off his plush bed covers and searched his way through the dark, guided by the crack of light under his door. He found the metal handle and turning it, let himself out of his bedroom.

A guard stood on the other side his one hand reaching for the door handle, the other on his sword.

“Young prince, get back in your room. Something is wrong,” the guards said.

The boy knew what was wrong. He ran past the man, down the stone stairs in his fine nightshirt and ran to the door of his father’s study. He saw the guards smashing it down. They heard the sounds too, but louder and terrifyingly real. The sounds of wild animals and human screams.

Two guards rammed the heavy wooden door with a marble bust of the first king of their line, his grandfather. The wood splintered and the door flew open hard. Young Thellas stood and looked into the room.

There, on the floor reaching for the door, with a ruined and bloody hand, was the body of his father. Blood covered his face and part of his lower jaw was gone. His throat was a bloody mess of ribbons, a look of terror frozen in his dead eyes. The boy looked and thought what could possibly do this. What could turn the father he had loved so dearly into this lifeless, horrible thing crumpled on the floor.

The boy turned his back and was snatched up by his tutor, Renfra. The tall bald man held him against his chest, shielding him. The boy cried while the man knelt, stroking his hair.

“Never fear young king, we’ll make the world safe again.”

***

He released Elizebetha’s body to fall ungracefully to the floor, long after she was dead. Thellas realized he had been screaming and screaming. His throat was ripped raw. The red-shirted men had already started taking out the books and within moments, he heard the sound of fighting from outside. The king shook his head in disappointment and drew his sword. Why could they never understand he was protecting them all?

The king ran from the room, his rapier drawn. His red- shirted men flanked him, pulling their own long curved daggers. He’d been taught the sword from a young age and had also been taught that a leader must fight along with his men.

Outside of the doorway, the courtyard was a sea of bodies and drawn weapons. His men had made quick work of the Blackrock Guard and now stood guarding the doorway, from which he exited. Thellas passed through them and pushed to the front. Before him stood the so-called Cold Death, the mercenaries paid by Elizebetha. He’d not expected them to fight. Clearly the Red Bastards felt no such urges.

A man at the front was clearly the leader. He was older and grizzled, looking every inch what he was, a mercenary captain. The man pointed a short, well-used sword at him, as his men drew theirs as well. The king had, at least, three hundred and this was just shy of a third of that. Still, they had about twenty archers.

“Where’s Duchess Elizebetha?” the man shouted at him.

“Show some respect, old man. I’m the king. Or do you forget?” he said.

“I asked where she is, not who you are,” he yelled back.

“I’m so sick of fools like you. What do you think you’re protecting? Do you have any idea of what is in those books? Any idea of who she was? How could she look so young and yet be aged, how could she win a battle against those odds. She has secrets in this Keep that need to be destroyed and her along with them.”

“Thanks,” said Dagosh.

“Why?”

“For telling me why I should kill you,” he shouted and flicking his sword forward.

A barrage of arrows flew and men started to fall around the king.

***

Dagosh knew she was dead. They had pushed passed Goldie and he knew he should turn back, but what was the point? It was all over now. They had fought the Duke and won and now they had a King to deal with. He couldn’t win, but he could make the bastard hurt. He saw his smug young face, heard his words just waiting for him to say it. He’d killed her. That fine, lovely woman, who had been so tormented by all this was finally at rest, but now this little prick would join her.

On his signal, his archers fired. They took down the men closest to the king but avoided him. Dagosh lunged forward and slashed at the king with his short sword. A tall man in red stepped in the way, fighting with a long knife. What a fool. Dagosh stepped back from the short-range weapon as the man slashed and cut his hand to the bone. Bringing the sword back in an upward swing, he sliced the man from navel to throat. It was easy. He remembered, with a smile, that he was always good at this part.

His troops surged around him and fought hard. He saw all the one’s he’d trained and remembered all their faces. They seemed possessed by the same fury as him. Slaves all, forgotten, tormented, shit on by life. They’d all liked the Duchess. She always brought them drinks and a kind word when they were on the latest watches, and now this man had taken her. Maybe some had envisioned a life here.

The king was backing away as the Cold Death held the advantage. A battle often came down to resolve. Dagosh kept cutting and cutting. A new man would get in the way of the king and he’d slash him down. One got a lucky cut on his arm. Another thrust a pike hard into his arm and he almost dropped his sword.

He realized they were surrounded. The cries of death told him the battle had turned. Dagosh looked around to see the king’s men had circled their smaller force and were pushing in, with short sharp thrusts. Dagosh made one final lunge for the king, his blade glancing off the fuck’s cheek, as a blade from a guard found his stomach. Dagosh fell to his knees, clutching the blade. His eyes faded in and out of vision. He saw the young king walk up to him and smile.

The young noble face, perfect teeth and sense of right.

“Looks like you failed, old man. Nice try, though,” the king said.

Dagosh looked at the small little boy pretending to be important and laughed. through the pain.

“What’s so fucking funny?” the king said, pointing his blade at him.

“I have friends and they are all much better at this than I was.”

The king thrust his sword, his fine blade entering the old soldier’s heart, with a smile still on his face.

***

Moving through a battle was like swimming upstream, only with a knife in your hand. Josette dodged a hastily thrust blade from a man old enough to be her father. She got close enough to smell his breath and thrust her dagger deep into his unprotected underarm. She shoved the man backwards and followed his falling body into her next victim, a young boy trying to load a crossbow. She shattered the bridge of his nose with a sharp downward hit of her dagger, lucky him. She must be getting soft. He fell back clutching his face as blood gushed from his broken nose.

Dagosh was as much like a father to her as anyone. She’d do as he asked one last time. As they rushed at the king’s men, he’d pushed her hard in the back and said, “Find her.”

Find her she would. Josette cut a bloody path to the keep doorway and beyond. The fighting had extended inside and she sidestepped the battling bodies with ease. She entered the Keep and ran down the hall to see two men flanking either side of the open doorway. She didn’t slow down, but jogged on, drawing her second dagger and switched them to her backhand hold, so the blade ran the along the inside of her forearm.

The first lunged at her. She dodged spinning, slashing her blade down the length of his arm. Her other backhand blade plunged deep into his heart. He dropped with blood spraying her face. She laughed as she turned to the next. He looked terrified. The man actually dropped his blade, turned his back and ran. Josette flicked her dagger in the air, catching its tip and tossing it hard. The man toppled face first, the point catching him hard in the back of the skull.

Josette whipped the blood from her face and entered the library. It had been Elizebetha’s sanctuary. Now it was a ruin. Books pulled from the shelves, ripped, torn and laying in piles. Surely, they intended to burn the lot. She turned and saw the body. Elizebetha lay on the floor. Her face distorted and ugly from the choking. She’d seen bodies like this before and knew the signs. There were deep red marks around her neck. Her old master had liked choking her. She knew well that feeling of terror, wondering if this would be the time he didn’t stop, feeling the breath inside you slowly running out.

Josette crossed her legs like a child and sat beside Elizebetha and stroked her hand. “You’re at rest now. No one can hurt you anymore.” She was surprised that tears actually welled inside of her and she started to cry. What the hell was this? Did she really care so much? Of everyone she knew, Elizebetha deserved this the least. She knew it was true that killers lived and the innocent didn’t. Being better at fighting was better than not deserving death.

The sounds of battle outside the hall were growing quieter. She soon heard a final shout from the king and knew they were lost, that Dagosh was gone as well. Her life had no anchors, not anymore. Josette stood and ran to a bookcase still intact, she moved a book from its position and before the room could fill with more people than she could kill, she slunk into the hidden passage. He might have killed Elizebetha and Dagosh, but they had trained her well and she’d get bloody revenge for them. She just needed to find Goldie, Grimm, and Minsetta and find out what the hell was going on.

***

Goldie awoke with blood in his hair and trickling down his arm. The arrow was still deep in his flesh and he winced with pain as a woman put her hand on it, looking to pull it out. Goldie just shook his head. “Don’t fucking think about it. That would just make it bleed more.”

He sat in the courtyard of the Keep and all around were bodies. They lay on top of each other and he looked from face to face. People he knew and liked, but luckily not his little sister. No little redhead among the bodies, that was good, now he could avoid killing the king himself. He was stood up by a guard and the king approached him. His young face was flushed with vigor and pride. He’d clearly enjoyed himself.

“So they got you too, where were you going? My guard said you were found near the gates,” the king said.

“I wanted to ensure my lads realized it was none of our concern,” he said back calmly.

“And that’s how you feel? None of your concern,” the king asked, looking at him hard like he could spot a lie.

“The only part I don’t like is that I have no idea why you would do this. I don’t like being left in the dark,” he said. Goldie was truly puzzled and it was a feeling he hated. Why would the king do this, except, of course, because he was crazy?

“But I didn’t do it. The duke of Twin Plains did. He and his men, they killed the Duchess Elizebetha, burned her Keep down and then got beaten by you Red Bastards,” he said slowly, as if to a child. Goldie now understood. The king needed a good reason for going hard against Twin Plains and this atrocity was it. Still he had enjoyed it too much for simple strategy. He was actually angry at the Lady, that was clear.

“Surely that wasn’t the only reason. Why burn books, and I’m assuming, kill her yourself?” he asked.

“None of your business, that’s what. Now get those stolen Twin Plain uniforms you’ve collected and start marching home, but there are some stops along the way,” he said.

“What stops?”

“Others like her. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat that dinner she prepared. I’m suddenly peckish.”

The young king walked back into the Keep, seemingly oblivious to the mountain of bodies all around him.

Goldie looked at the arrow in his arm. Stellos, where was she now? As he looked among the bodies, he saw one he really didn’t want to see. The eyes of the king’s guards were on him. Goldie looked to one and, walking up to him, whispered in his ear. “Mind if I search him? He owes me money.” The guard laughed and just nodded.

Goldie walked to the body of Dagosh. He was face down on the stone. Goldie gently turned him over. His face was as it had ever been in life. Stern and fierce. Goldie whispered to him as he pretended to search his pockets.

“You’re a brave old fool, Dagosh. Much too sentimental for a mercenary. Look at yourself now.”

He had a few coins in his pocket that Goldie ignored and took the whip that hung swung at his side. He’d had it the first day he’d said yes to Seth’s crazy scheme and been told it had been used on him many times, in his own days as a slave. “Only man I know with a whip. Just goes to show you never needed to use it. That was you, my friend, you’ll be missed.”

Goldie limped away from the body of Dagosh, and holding his hand to his arrow wound he walked out of the camp. He knew the Reds would be gathering and wondering what happened. He knew he had to convince them to march on Twin Plains, in disguise, but that wouldn’t be half as hard as convincing them to betray the king of the realm.

Chapter Eight.

“You sure she’ll be here?” Minsetta asked Grimm.

They stood in the near dark of the blood-wine cellar. He could feel the cold starting to soak into her bones and she shivered at the sounds of battle above. They had been waiting for nearly an hour as the world fell apart around them. She was more than a little worried that Josette would be among the victims. She was starting to feeling hungry and that meant angry. She could feel when she need the blood it was like slipping closer and closer to losing control. After watching her pace back across the little room once again, Grimm simply walked up to her and held his neck before her.

“Thanks,” she said and barred her lips, exposed her teeth, which had grown sharp in seconds. She sank her teeth into Grimm’s neck. He didn’t make a sound, he was clearly getting used to this. The bright blood poured from his neck and into her mouth. She felt the infusion of life and the grip on her mind and thoughts coming back. She pulled back from him after a short moment. The blood felt incredibly potent and she released the depth of what Grimm was becoming. She cut her fingertip on her teeth and used her blood to close his wound. It was a ritual they were getting used to. She wiped his neck, stood back and just picked up the conversation as normal.

“You sure she’ll be here?” she asked again.

“She’ll be here and soon. I should be helping Dagosh, if this king is as bad as you say, then we should kill him now when he only has a few men,” he said. Grimm had been pacing restlessly since the sounds of swords began.

“You can’t just kill a king. We need to find out what the hell he’s doing first,” she said.

As they spoke, Minsetta looked up to see the small blood and tear-streaked face of Josette listening to them. Grimm turned and walked to the girl. Taking her in his big arms with obvious relief that his vision had proved true. She’d lived.

“Dagosh? Elizebetha, the Cold Death?” he asked, already knowing.

“He’s dead, she’s dead, they’re all dead. He killed everyone. Who the hell is he? and what is this all about?” she asked in a tired voice. In one moment he had taken almost all the people she cared about.

Grimm released her from his embrace and they both looked to Minsetta.

“You know him. You tell us,” Grimm said.

“Just let me show you.” Minsetta walked to them in the near dark. She put the tip of one of her light brown fingers into her mouth and cut it on her sharp tooth. She smeared a tiny drop on their lips and muttered a few words in Pellosi.

“There is one memory and it’s all you need to know.”

A small gathering of people stood in a circle of rough stones, high above them stood the moon and it shone down on the people, casting pale yellow light over them. Minsetta stood in the middle of the robed figures. She was much younger looking, her features much softer and her curves fuller, she looked soft, peaceful and full of emotion. She stood with arms out wide, in a long flowing dress, barefoot and singing a haunting song filled with longing and regret. Slowly as she sung and walked in a small circle, they saw that familiar sight. The very air in the circle started to thicken and darken. She carried on her singing until the rift appeared and came through a small girl. She was a monster. Sharp tiny teeth filled her mouth and pushed against her lips, her eyes nothing but solid black pools. Minsetta knelt and grabbed the girl. She forced a skin of liquid into her mouth past her wicked teeth as she struggled. Soon the girl stopped kicking and her face became the one it had in life.

“Don’t be scared, little one. You’re back just for a moment. There is someone who wants to see you,” Minsetta said to her.

One of the robed figures pulled back its hood. It was a Pellosi woman with long flowing hair and tears running down her cheeks. She ran into the circle and held the girl. Minsetta stood back smiling as they spoke words of love to each other. They talked and talked, she reassured the girl that everything was all right and all those words people say when things are far from all right, but it made them both feel better. Minsetta took the woman aside and whispered to her.

“It’s time enough I only have so much strength, and soon she’ll turn back, it’s only sheep’s blood.”

The lady nodded and cried while kissing her little girl on the check. The child turned and walked back into the void, her walk that of a normal child.

Minsetta stood in the middle. “Who is next? I can do one more”

Suddenly they were not alone. A tall man walked into the center of the circle. He had a shaved head, a deep red robe and a leather-studded cudgel hung at his side.

“How about me, witch? Can you bring back my sense of mercy?” he spat.

“Who are you?” she said, with fear. She had no weapon to draw or any skill with one even if she did.

“The Order of the Learned and we’re here to make the world sane again.” The man pulled a blade from behind his back and lunged at her. She turned and ran.

He was not alone and the men of the order fell on her followers with their wicked knives. Many of the women were simple farm folk who had heard of her and come to see if it was true. Now they died with screams on their lips and cold blades in their backs.

Minsetta ran as she heard the screams of the women in the circle, as they were slaughtered and the laughter of the men as they did it. Her long flowing dress was soon ripped and torn by the brambles and small nettles. She ran barefoot across the darkened plain, with only the moonlight to guide her. Too soon, her foot struck a rock and she fell to the ground hard, crying out. Her hand went out in front of her and she cut and ripped the fine skin of her palms. She sat crying. The lead man from the circle was close behind her and laughed as she fell.

“Oh, that’s bad luck,” he said.

The man sat down next to her on the grass and pointed his dagger at her fine throat.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I’ve not hurt anyone. I’m just giving these women their final goodbyes.”

“Who are you to do this? Who are you to tamper with the natural order of man? You’ve not hurt anyone yet, but you possess a power too great to be allowed to roam free, especially in the hands of unstable women. You call on powers you have no idea of. Do you have any idea what gods you’re even worshipping and giving strength too?”

The man leaned forward, looking at her body through the thin robe.” Still, it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful face and body. It’s not your fault you were born to commit sin. Just look at you. You could inspire lust in the stoniest of hearts.”

Minsetta realized that her hand was behind her and resting on the stone that had tripped her. It was slick and covered with her blood, sharp enough to cut her foot, sharp enough to cut him. Minsetta gathered all her rage and bringing the stone around hard smashed into his leering face. The point hit his temples hard with a resounding crack of bone.

He collapsed on the ground and she straddled his body, screaming in anger. Thinking of the women in the circle, her own fear and weakness to protect them. She smashed the stone down again and again with both hands until his face was just a blood pulp.

“Thank you for showing me what I’m truly capable of,” she said and smiled at his destroyed face.

***

She shook her head from the memory and looked to Minsetta. She was sitting patiently waiting for them to come back. Grimm also shook his head and was breathing deeply, regaining his sense of self.

“When was that?” Josette asked.

“Oh I don’t know, a hundred years ago, give or take.”

“What?” she said, shocked.

“I know I look good for my age. Regardless, it’s not the king we need to fear. It’s those men with him. They are called the Order of the Learned. As you can see they are killers and not the good kind like us. They are against any power they can’t control. Grimm. You and I, we are just the kind of people they hunt down and kill.”

“Why are they here? Elizebetha is hardly like us.”

“To them she is. Her books, these bottles, it’s all power and they will destroy it all.”

“They won’t take the power for themselves?” Grimm asked.

“They aren’t the Dark Guild. They hate this kind of blood magic, they view it as unclean and against the natural order, whatever the hell that means.”

“What have they got to do with the king?” Josette asked.

“That was my first encounter with them, but far from my last. My powers grew and my appetite grew much darker after that day. I worked with the Guild for years to try and track down these animals, but never could catch more than one or two at a time. They were predictable prey. Whenever a person with power would start to gather followers, they would investigate and if it was real genuine power, they would do their work. Later, they aligned with the former king and I had to flee. Now it seems they also have his son in their grasp.”

Grimm stepped forward. “We have to go. They are coming.”

“But what do we do now? We just run, leaving our friends’ bodies to cool and be forgotten?” Josette said.

“This is a major move by them. They are planning something beyond the normal murder and torment. We need to find out what it is and stop it.”