A Kingdom Falls (The Mancer Trilogy Book 1)

Also by Alan Scott

The Storm Series

The Storm Series Trilogy – Available in Paperback or on Kindle

Echoes of a Storm – Book one

Scions of the Storm – Book two

A Dark and Hungry Storm – Book three

The Storm Series – Books of Short Stories – Available in Paperback or on Kindle

Stories for a Storm Filled Night - 9 Short stories

Tales of Solomon Pace – 8 Short stories

The Moonlight Dance - 3 Short stories (Kindle only)

Tales of Salvation and Damnation – 9 Short stories

The Mancer Series

The Mancer Trilogy – Available in Paperback or on Kindle

A Kingdom Falls – Book one

The Y Front Chronicles

The Y Front Series (Sci-fi) – Available on Kindle only

The Y Front Chronicles – Book one

The Y Front Series (Sci-fi) Short stories – Available on Kindle only

The Y Front Standoff

All books and promo stories are available from Amazon.  For more information and updates, search Facebook for EchoesOfAStorm, visit my website
www.alankscott.com
, or my blog
whenpenhitspaper.wordpress.com

Dedication

To Maria from the office next door - a huge thank you for all your honest feedback and comments.  And to my oldest friend, Mr. Alan G. Laird.

Cover Illustration

The cover illustration is by Saskia Schnell.  Her website is
www.saskiaschnell.com

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction.  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, don’t hit me anymore! I will behave, I promise! I will be good! I will be good!

Thank you. Thank you. What? Yes, I will try to concentrate. I will try and remember who I am. Ok, Master, I will try. Not Master? Friend? My friend? Yes, yes, I recognise you now.

(silence)  What has happened to me? Why am I tied up in this jacket? Why am I in this cell? Where are my men? I want to know what has happened, old friend!

Yes, ok, I will calm down. See? I am calm. I will sit at the table and we can talk, you and me. This candle gives off an awful light (a light laugh); it makes you seem older and sadder than I remember. What have I said to make you so sad? Two years! What do you mean – two years have passed since we last met? Is that how long I have been in this cell? Only six months (a sad laugh), only six months in this cell. Then, where have I been for the last two years?

You want me to remember? I… I… don’t want to remember. Please, don’t make me remember. I beg of you, please?  (a hard slap across the face)

You shame me, my friend, by reminding me of who I was… who I am? I will try to be the man that I was. I will try to help you, my friend. I will try to remember. Ok, then; let me think where to begin… Ah, I know. Me and my men were tasked to go to the Red Coast to investigate the rumours that the Brethren of the Night had not been wiped out in the purge that followed a few years after the Great War, but, in fact, still survived as a small conclave in the far north of the country.

We had stopped for the night by the side of the road. The weather was… fine. There was very little light, as the moon was waning. We set our pickets and, after a meal, settled down for the night.  (a long silence)

If you want to know what happened, don’t rush or interrupt me. My memories flit and dance. They are difficult to pin down.

My mouth is dry; I could do with a drink. Thank you. Would you please remove this jacket in which you have me wrapped so tightly? It’s for my own safety – really? What do you think I could do against you and your two large and burly guards? Sorry, my apologies. I am just a bit tired and confused.

Where was I? Ah, yes – there was very little light. It was as if we had been wrapped in darkness. Guardian Carl Brokenshire was the first to die, I believe. I could not sleep, so I was sitting by the fire when his severed head landed in the middle of it, sending sparks flying. His eyes were wide with terror, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was one of the lucky ones.

I remember standing, my mace grasped in my hand, as I stared out into the pitch-dark night, looking for our attackers. It was then something hit me on the back of the head and I fell unconscious to the ground. I awoke in a cell, naked and with long chains connecting my feet to the wall.  (a pause)

Please, let me gather my thoughts. This is very difficult for me. If you want to know what happened, then you must let me gather my thoughts. Thank you.  (a long silence)

They came into my cell, four of them; all dressed alike in long brown habits with their hoods drawn up over their faces. They just stood there, silently, as I asked them questions, shouted at them, pleaded with them. They did not move. They did not speak. They just stood and watched. After an hour or so, they spoke two words, then turned and left.

What were the words? They said, ‘
He cometh
.’ No, at the time, I did not know what they meant. Anyway, when they left, I fell to my knees and prayed to our Lord. I prayed harder than I had ever prayed before. I prayed for his protection.

It was difficult to tell the time in that filthy dark cell, but, as hours turned into days and days into weeks and weeks into months,  they continued to come in at random times and just stand there. I would try different tactics each time they came – I would rant at them; I would match them silence for silence; I would pray; I would talk endlessly at them – but it would always end the same. They would say, ‘
He cometh’
, and leave.

My meals were not nourishing and the cold was seeping into my bones. They had not seen fit to clothe me and my hair was getting long. My hair (a short laugh), my hair was the only way I knew how to keep time. The longer it got, the longer I knew I had been in captivity.

Then, one day or night – I know not which – a single person entered. Fear raced through me. Where were the rest? Why the change? What was happening? The robed person moved before me and stopped.

When the hood of the habit was lowered, I saw the face of an angel – the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She handed me a fresh loaf of bread and a red cheese, and she smiled. (tears fell down the prisoner’s face) Then she stood up, turned, and left. I wolfed down the bread and cheese. I had not realised how hungry I was.

She returned the next day or night, and she gave me milk to drink, before turning and silently leaving. I was then left alone.  I wanted her to come back; I wanted my angel to come back. (tears again) My heart jumped with joy when, an eternity later, I heard the cell door open, but it fell again as I saw four figures walk in and stand, silently watching me. A rage I did not know was within me welled up, and I lost my mind, as I struggled against my chains to attack those four silent robes.

They just watched as my rage burned out, and I collapsed, sobbing, to the floor. They then spoke: ‘The bread was made with piss, the cheese with the blood of a leper, and the milk was spiked with the cum of an idiot.’ With that, they left.

I lay there, weeping on the floor, as my stomach rebelled, and I was violently sick. As I lay in a pool of my own warm vomit, I forsook my God. I cast Him from my life.  How could He let this happen to me? Why did He hate me so?

I can see the look on your face, but you were not there; you were not chained to that cell. You cannot possibly understand.

The next night or day, she walked in, her hood down, and removed her habit. Standing completely naked, she looked down at me. I stared up at her and her wonderful curvaceous body. I wept openly before her. I wanted to ask why she had done what she had done, but I could not find the words. Finally, she spoke. ‘My name is Miriam Gregorious and I am yours, if you open your heart and mind to Him, for
He cometh
again.’ With that, she bent down, picked up her robe, and left.  ‘Who cometh?’ I managed to call out.

‘Open your heart and mind!’ she called back.

As my cell door slammed shut and the darkness returned to my world, I curled up and closed my eyes. Something moved in the darkness. I quickly opened them again and looked round… nothing. I closed my eyes and the darkness moved again. I heard whispers, words just out of reach of my hearing. I opened my eyes again. I tried to stay awake. I tried to keep my eyes open, but, ultimately, I failed. Have you ever tried to stay awake? It’s very, very difficult.

Each and every time I closed my eyes, it would start – the whispers, the half-heard words, images, the movement in the dark, and the pain. What were the words? –night, man, pain, life, lust, surrender. The images – trust me, you don’t want to know about the images (laughter), images of pain, torture, disease.  (laughter)

But, oh, the pain was the worst. He knew how to hurt me (giggling laughter), but, stuck in the dark – alone – for so long, I soon began to look forward to His touch and the pain. I would pretend it was Miriam Gregorious (giggling laughter), and the more I enjoyed the pain, the more clearly I started to hear the words.

What did the words say?  (mad laughter)  Oh, my friend, you and everything you love will die (mad laughter), for I know the future and it belongs to Him, for
He cometh
again. He will rise out of the dark and embrace the world. He will destroy the feeble powers that think they hold sway over this world. He will slaughter all the heroes that they will send.

Nothing can stop Him, for He lives inside us all.  We should all kneel and praise Him, for He is the ONE TRUE GOD. 
He is the Midnight Man and He cometh
!

Do you think that sword will stop Him?  (mad laughter) I can see the fear in your eyes. Kill me, if you want, but it will make…  (the sound of a severed head bouncing on the floor)

***

In a monastery five-hundred miles away

“…nothing can stop Him, for He lives inside us all. We should all kneel and praise Him, for He is the ONE TRUE GOD. He is the Midnight Man and He cometh
!” The filthy-looking man collapsed to the floor, pulling and ripping his long matted hair.

“That is a dire warning, Peter.”

“It is, Andrew.”

“What do we do with the poor wretch?” asked Peter Hazelgrove.

“What would our Lord Mancer do?” replied Andrew Moore.

“There is more,” the filthy man suddenly interjected.

“More? Then speak, man,” encouraged Peter.

“
When the Midnight Man has cometh, and all the heroes are dead in the ground, there will come a man
–” the seer coughed loudly as blood started to fill his mouth – “
a broken man, a cripple of a man.
” Spitting the bright red fluid on the floor, the seer struggled on. “
He will stand when no other will. He will hold the line when others have fled. Though he is the lowest of the low, men will rush to fight at his side.
” A fountain of blood exploded from the man’s mouth.

“
At the end, when all is darkness and the Midnight Man stands victorious over all the land, he will stand alone, stare into the darkness, and sayeth, ‘Come on, if you think you’re fucking hard enough, fat boy!’  He will not be afraid, for he is Legion!”
  The seer’s body started to convulse and fit, as one last huge fountain of blood erupted from his mouth; then, his body went still and limp.

“What do you make of that?” asked a slightly shocked Andrew.

Peter was silent for a moment.  “We must make sure we record this prophecy in full.  We will make it the sole goal of the Cult of Mancer to guard and protect this prophecy.  We will stand when no one else will.  We will hold the line when others run, and we shall make sure that, when the darkness falls, there will be a single shaft of light to give hope to those that resist.”

“What shall we call the prophecy?”

“The Mancer Prophecy – what else could we call it?”