Dark Soul Silenced - Part One (2 page)

Chapter Three

It was the hunger that woke him as darkness fell.  Something waited in the dark, something the hunger wanted.  Not the animals already fleeing as he started to clamber out of his refuge.  They were poor fare.  What waited in the dark glowed in his mind, drawing him towards it.

He didn't walk now, he ran – almost flying over the rough ground.  He ran for ten minutes, then twenty, not slowing and not tiring.  Despite his speed he always found a path, was never blocked, never had to turn back.  He felt so strong!  And somehow he knew he'd be stronger still, much stronger, once his hunger was sated.

Then, suddenly, he sensed he was near.  He dropped into a crouch, carefully closing in till he could see his target.  People!  Two adults and a child, bundled up beside the glowing embers of a fire.  Sleeping deeply.

The hunger rose like a dark tidal wave, washing away all reason.  Silently he closed in on the sleeping family.

Mary woke with a start, heart pounding, eyes scanning the dark trees around them.  Too scared to move.  Her parents still slept.  Again.  She'd lost count of how many times she'd woken like this during their journey.  She missed the town, couldn't get used to sleeping outside in the woods.  Her heart leapt into her throat at each sound.

They were making their way along the coastal path, but each night they headed into the forest for ten or twenty minutes before picking a camp-site.  Each evening the fire was small, and quickly put out.  So it wouldn't attract creatures her parents said.  She might be young, only seven, but she knew fire frightened creatures off.  Only one creature sought out fires, the same creature that might be prowling the coastal path at night.  Man.  Whatever had her parents scared it was people, probably outlaws, not animals.

Now she lay awake, scared rigid, listening for any sound that suggested outlaws had found them.  There was nothing.  It took her a few seconds to realise why that was wrong.  There were no sounds at all.  All the normal night sounds were gone.  Scared as they had made her, their absence was far, far worse.

Then a shadow seemed to move above her, a man's shadow with deep red glowing eyes that stared down at her.  She wanted to scream, but a heavy warmth flowed through her body sapping her strength, her will.  Her last thought was to wonder why the strange man had dogs teeth… incisors sticking out of his mouth.  Then the warm fog closed around her tightly.

As he closed in the child stirred. He froze.  He could tell she was awake, but she lay still, hardly breathing.  She was facing away from where he now crouched.  After a few moments he moved on silently, closing in.  His body moved by instinct, the hunger in control.  He was floating, relaxing in a deep warmth, only vaguely aware of what happened around him and not caring at all.  As his body reached the child he saw her expression change from shock to fear and then into blank slackness as his power overwhelmed her.  He knew what would happen next, could feel the excitement quickening the hunger.  Could feel his incisors lengthening ready to pierce her neck so he could drink deeply of her blood.  Knew the immense strength it would give him.

His body leant forward, as under the hunger's spell as the girl was, and for a moment his eyes met hers.  Pretty eyes… pretty blue eyes.  Eyes that stirred a memory deep down.  Like a bubble freed from the oceans depths the memory rose, faster and faster till it crashed into his mind.  A memory of his sister, aged seven or eight, staring at him.  His sister?  This child was like his sister.  He jerked back from the child revolted at what he'd been about to do.  Lowered her gently back to the ground.  Saw her eyes regain focus, watched her draw a deep breath… then ran as she screamed.  The scream ringing in his ears, stomach churning with disgust and chest full of hatred for what he'd almost become he ran… and ran… and ran.

In his head a battle raged, the hunger trying to wrest control.  For the moment he was winning.  The girl's face, so like his sister's, shone in his mind.  A beacon against the dark.  The hunger tried to overwhelm him with a full on assault, tried crashing against his mind like a tsunami.  It tried stealth, tendrils sneaking around the sides of his thoughts, feints and counter thrusts.  He managed to hold out against every attempt.  But against its greatest weapon, patience, he knew he'd lose.  Already the anger and the horror were fading, as was his recollection of the girl's face — and of his sister's.  He could hold on for hours, maybe a day, but he would lose.  And when the beast inside won the family would die, he could still feel where they were… knew he could find them again now wherever they went.

The answer, when it came, was shocking in its simplicity.  He had to die.  For that matter he was already dying.  If the darkness won he'd no longer exist, he knew that now.  Something would carry on but it wouldn't be him.  The question was how to do it.  His thoughts were clear for the first time in days.  From the way his wounds had healed dying wasn't going to be easy.  Burning?  That might work, but could he build a big enough fire?  And stay in control long enough to be sure the fire did its work?  He didn't know.

Or maybe the sun?  But in the forest there was shade everywhere.  If he lost control, couldn't force himself to stay in the sunlight, could the darkness inside drive him to find cover and thwart his plan?

The options crashed around his head for several minutes, as he continued to run, to flee the family.  Suddenly he burst clear of the trees but this time not into a clearing.  This time all that faced him was a gentle slope of scrubby grass which merged into a sandy beach a couple of hundred paces in front of him.

That beach was where he now sat, watching the eastern sky brightening above the sea.  The rising sun would bring his death.  There would be no shade anywhere near.  He was glad he'd get to see one last sunrise, a beautiful one judging by the colours already in the sky.

The darkness hadn't given up.  It alternated between subtle and aggressive.  First his mind filled with thoughts of how wonderful life was, how precious.  Glowing memories filled with pleasure and joy.  When he resisted those it would attempt to wrench control.  Seeking to overwhelm him with its force, stun him enough to loosen his grip.  He held on.  Sitting peacefully on the beach, hearing the gentle crash of the waves, he felt more himself than he had in days.  Despite the best efforts of the hunger inside he felt calm, centred, determined.

The pre-dawn light was bright now, sunrise only minutes away.  He removed his boots, then stood and removed his clothes, throwing them well away from him.  He wanted to be sure the sun could reach all of him.

Then he sat again.  The nearest shade would be under the trees, at least two hundred paces behind him, or in the water but with the tide out that was a good hundred paces away.  The position was perfect.  He settled down to wait.  Not thinking… just drinking in the beautiful morning.

When the sun crested the horizon he blinked at its brilliance, then cursed as his skin started to blister and burn.  As the sun seemed to leap up above the horizon the curses turned to screams.  The darkness lashed his soul, urging him to run.  Trying desperately to snatch control of his body.  He stood firm despite the agony.

The light started blazing through him and he felt the darkness inside shrivel and die.  He grinned through gritted teeth.  At least, at the end, he would die as himself — his soul cleansed of the dark stain.

His skin charred and burnt.  Far worse though was the burning he felt inside.  Intense heat within his body and his head made him writhe.  The pressure inside kept building, the blazing heat trying to burst its way out of him.  Far beyond pain, beyond agony.  Filling his world.  Causing him to howl and scream.  Until finally it burst through him, destroying his body and mind in a blaze of light and heat.

Chapter Four

Jon was worried, scared.  He could tell Sarah, his wife, felt the same.  They were both trying to hide the fear from their daughter, and he was pretty sure they were both failing badly.

They'd woken to Mary's screams, seeing a man leaning over her.  Before Jon could move the man had run, moving far faster than anyone Jon had seen despite the dark and the trees. Jon stood guard while Sarah tried to console the sobbing Mary.  The stout branch he held in his hands felt completely inadequate.

Once Jon was sure the intruder wasn't circling back he built the fire up.  That helped Mary settle a little.  They slowly got the tale from her. 

She'd woken feeling scared. Then the man, or possibly some form of demon, had appeared.  He'd had red glowing eyes.  She'd felt sleepy, heavy.  She hadn't been able to move, to shout, to scream for help.  He'd opened his mouth and she'd seen teeth that were pointed and sharp.  He'd leant in, stared into her eyes… and then frozen.  Mary started sobbing again at this point in her tale.  She kept talking about the eyes, the terrible hungry eyes, blazing in the dark night.

Jon spoke to her gently, comforting her, telling her everything would be all right.  All the while feeling sick within.  Sick with horror at what had almost happened.  Sick with anger at both the intruder and at himself for not waking sooner.  And sick with fear that the creature would return.  Whatever it was had fled their camp at tremendous speed without making a single noise.  It could be stalking them now, creeping closer.  Or even rushing at them.  How would they be able to tell?  For that matter, could he stop the creature if it attacked?

When Sarah had managed to calm Mary enough to continue the tale the strangest part came out.  Mary said the man had changed when he met her eyes.  His face had softened, the pointed teeth withdrew, the anger left his face.  And his eyes… their colour faded from red to grey — though she said they still seemed to be lit from the inside.  She said it was like a different person stood there, one who was upset — almost crying.  The spell on her had faded too.  The scream that had been stuck inside finally found its way out.

The wait for dawn was one of the longest Jon had ever known.  It seemed to last a lifetime.  Mary dozed off eventually, but Sarah and he sat in silence, their eyes and ears straining to detect any threat.

When dawn finally arrived Jon and Sarah agreed they couldn't spend another night in the forest.  They would have to shelter near the coast, run the risk of someone stumbling on their camp.  They would try to travel farther each day so they reached safety more quickly.

After a quick breakfast they headed back east.  Only when they left the forest did Jon realise just how tense he had felt.  He found himself blinking away tears of relief.  They turned north and continued their journey, the forest to their left and the sea to their right.

The feeling of relief faded as time went on.  Hiking along the coastal path the tree line was never more than a few hundred yards away, and often much closer.  Jon caught both the others casting nervous glances at the trees on many occasions.  He knew he was doing the same.

When danger found them it wasn't what they'd feared.  As they approached a small copse of trees beside the path a man rode out, blocking the way.  Several more stepped out beside him.  Jon looked behind and saw more men rising from hidden positions near the path.  There were fifteen or so, far too many to fight.  With Mary to carry running wasn't an option.

“
Stay still,” Jon whispered to his family.  Then he stepped towards the leader, who had dismounted and drawn a sword.

“
Sir, how can we…” Jon began, but the leader interrupted him.

“
Do you like my new sword?” he asked playfully.

Before Jon could answer the leader slashed the sword forwards and across Jon's leg above his knee.

Jon collapsed, screaming in pain.  The leader stepped closer, plunging the sword into Jon's stomach then dragging it clear.  He raised the sword and said, with a twisted grin…

“
I've been wanting to test it out.  Thank you for giving me the chance.”

“
That wasn't very friendly was it?” said a new voice.

The question seemed both softly spoken yet powerful at the same time.  The leader's head shot round.  Jon followed his gaze.

A man stepped past the surprised ring of thugs, moving to confront the leader.  His clothes were dirty, his hair a mess.  Yet he carried himself like a lord.

He'd been scared to open his eyes.  The pain had gone, the soothing blackness too.  Wherever he was it was bright.  Really bright.

He must have died.  He'd seen the flesh burning off his body, smelt the stench, felt liquid fire burning every single nerve.  He was scared now.  Where would he be?  He had a feeling he'd never been religious, that he had no idea what came after life.  He was scared to see what state he was in.  He felt nothing.  Was he a burnt corpse?  A cleansed skeleton?  A wraith?

Summoning his courage he forced his eyes open, blinking in the bright light.  The bright sunlight.  Squinting he saw a beach.  The same beach. 

Other senses started to return now.  First hearing.  The crash of waves, the cries of seagulls.  Then taste and smell.  The salty tang of the sea carried in the air.  And finally touch.  A gentle breeze on his skin, sand under his legs.  Feeling far more intense than normal.  As if his skin was tender.  Burnt maybe.  Heart in his mouth he lowered his gaze to his body.  He saw skin.  No burns, no scars.  Just plain skin.  He laughed in relief, tension he hadn't been aware of flowing out.

So had he dreamed it all?  No.  The answer was definite, firmly in his mind.  And somewhat scarily it was not exactly a thought of his own.  He knew.  Knew he'd been changed, knew the burning had been part of that change.  Something dark had been purged from his body.  He now knew the dark nights he'd endured had been preparation, a trial.  Had he taken the blood of a living creature, especially human blood, he would have been ruled by that darkness forever.  Somehow he knew that this new knowledge was linked to the change he had been through.

And that was all, other than a feeling that there was more to learn, more to find out.

As the initial shock faded the knowledge was actually comforting.  The darkness had definitely left his soul, taking the hunger with it. 

Despite the sun he shivered as the wind blew coolly.  Glancing around he saw his clothes where he'd thrown them.  He stood and stretched, then walked over and started to dress.  The sensations of stretching and of dressing felt both familiar and strangely new at the same time.

Once dressed he sat again, staring at the sea.  Thinking.  His memories of the past week were much clearer now which was both a blessing and a curse.  He remembered the little girl's face vividly.  The horror he'd seen in her eyes.  He knew he'd carry that image with him forever.  He wished he could see her again, apologise to her.

He remembered falling under the spell of the darkness but now understood it was a catalyst.  A necessary step to becoming what he was now, whatever that might be.

He could still remember very little of what had started this journey, of what happened when the wolves had slunk away from the clearing without attacking him.  As for his life before the ambush, he had only fragments.  Fleeting images.  And then, suddenly, one clear memory.  His name.  Daniel.  He almost wept at recovering that vital piece of himself, at the familiar feel of the word.

Suddenly he had a sense of something being very wrong.  Daniel sensed fear, anger.  He stood, turned.  It was coming from the beach to the south.  He could see figures, a good mile away and maybe more.

The feeling strengthened. 
He ran, covering the distance as fast as a racing horse could but moving silently, quickly finding himself approaching a group of armed men who were surrounding a family.  It only took Daniel a moment to be sure these were bandits, and the family were their victims.

He arrived just as the leader of the bandits lashed out with his sword, deeply cutting the surrounded man's leg before driving the sword into the man's stomach and dragging it clear again.

Grinning the leader said “I've been wanting to test it out.  Thank you for giving me the chance.”

This had to be stopped and Daniel knew he had to do it.

“That wasn't very friendly, was it?” he said.  Then he stepped forward into the ring of thugs.

Kerant stood shocked, sword forgotten.  How had this intruder got so close without being noticed?  Suddenly a simple robbery, and the chance to gain a woman for a while, had turned complicated.  Was the man alone?  Looking around it seemed so.  Better to make sure though.

“Wolfgang, Stephen… make sure he's alone,” he barked out.

“
Oh I am,” said the man, smiling gently.

“
Good!” Kerant replied, thrusting with the sword as he spoke.  He'd always been fast with a blade, in the army he'd been amongst the best swordsman.  Turning outlaw had only sharpened those skills.  His thrust was fast, with no warning tells.  The stranger had no chance, the sword would punch through his stomach and out his back taking a chunk out of his backbone on the way.  A wound sure to disable any opponent.

Except it didn't.  Impossibly the man had moved, stepping around the blow then in towards Kerant.  He was gently resting his hands on the elbow and shoulder of Kerant's sword arm to prevent a further blow.

Kerant's experience kicked in despite his surprise.  He shoved at his opponents hands to push the stranger off-balance, but the stranger seemed to flow around him, stepping in even closer.  Kerant attempted a brutal head butt, again the stranger moved effortlessly out of the way and stepped back.

Kerant was angry now.  This man was making him look stupid in front of his men.  It was time to end it.  He caught Wolfgang's eye, nodded slightly.  Wolfgang raised his crossbow slowly, at the same time Kerant swung the sword in a flat arc.  Not at his opponent.  He swung at the wounded man sitting trying to staunch his bleeding.  Two birds with one stone Kerant thought.  Finish the wounded man and distract the stranger.

To Kerant's amazement the stranger stepped forward raising his bare arm to block the blade.  If the arm wasn't taken off cleanly it would be broken badly.  Kerant was more than happy with either prospect.

The sword impacted the stranger's arm and the shock nearly made Kerant drop it.  It felt like he'd hit a steel post.  The stranger hadn't even flinched, the blow hadn’t moved his arm and he showed no signs of injury.

Things were going wrong quickly, and they got worse.  Wolfgang shot the crossbow.  Somehow the stranger caught the bolt as it flew.  Then his hand moved in a blur.  Wolfgang made a choking sound, eyes wide in disbelief.  He collapsed to the floor dead, with the crossbow bolt jutting from his throat.

“
Get him!” Kerant screamed.  No one moved.  His men stood with eyes half closed, looking dazed.  Sleepy.

Kerant could feel the same effect – an energy sapping warmth washing against his mind.  His anger was keeping it at bay.  Magic was involved, he had no doubt of that now.  He stepped back, anger burning through his mind and keeping him free from the spell.  He grabbed the horses reins.  Maybe mounted he'd stand more chance.  If not he could flee far faster on the horse.

As he tried to mount the horse reared, sending him crashing to the floor.

“
My horse doesn't like you,” said the stranger softly, standing a few feet away and studying Kerant.  “And I'd like my sword back too.”

“
You!” exclaimed Kerant.  Yes, with the clues he could see this was the man they'd beaten and strung up for the wolves.

  “
You!” he repeated.  “We should have just killed you.  Well, I can soon put that right!”

He stood, tightened his grip on the sword and let the fury wash over him.  With a yell he charged, swinging the sword in a vicious diagonal strike.  His opponent moved impossibly fast to stand almost on Kerant's toes, facing the same way as Kerant.  He span with the sword's blow, using the sword's momentum and the turn to wrench it free from Kerant's hand.  He continued with the movement.  Pivoting till they were face to face again he punched the sword deep into Kerant's chest.

Kerant stared down a quickly narrowing tunnel at the sword's handle jutting from his chest.  He collapsed to the floor, dead before he could take in what had happened.