Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) (10 page)

Chapter Twenty One.

Seraphina thought she had changed. Those cold weeks, months and then years in that lonely prison that was the land of the dead. She’d thought on the bloody path that had brought her to the moment when Seth had opened the rift and pushed her in. She was angry at him, furious beyond belief, but what choice did he have, she’d proven she wasn’t fit for the world, so she was taken out of it. Yet now she was face to face with what she’d done. Not some vague memory of years past and some sense of regret she held like a shield but the actual feeling of fear she’d inspired, the feeling of the blood dripping down her hands and the glee with which she’d collected people's life talents like shiny new toys.

Finally, it had ended. After what seemed many days and days of reliving the lives of those she’d killed she woke up in her own body. She was actually relieved to be back in her own form, with her ratty matted hair and slightly too skinny frame. She felt the cold on her bare arms and looked around her. She was in a cell. She’d opened her eyes and she was in the corridor. There were no guards, no instruction just rows and rows of occupied cells.

She ignored the screaming inmates and broken people that sat in those cages and walked past the metals bars of their small cells. She walked on and on until her feet were sore and legs tired. There were hundreds and hundreds of them on either side, it stretched on for miles. At the very end she found a cell that was open and empty, she simply walked into it and shut the door. This was where she was meant to be. She belonged here, this would be her home now.

Seraphina started crying softly to herself and was broken from her thoughts by soft male laughter. A young man was in the cage across from her, his arms resting casually through the bars. He looked at her sitting on the floor and clutched, like someone watching an amusing play. He was attractive with dark black hair, long as hers and dark eyes that locked onto her.

She felt embarrassed and stood. Walking to the bars she stared back at him.

“It’s not nice to laugh at other people’s pain,” she said, in a voice like her as a spoilt child.

He laughed again but this time, it was a roaring laugh. He walked away from the bars and howled. When he came back he wiped a single tear of mirth from his eye.

“From you, that is gold, pure gold, enjoyment from anothers suffering? How much enjoyment have you gained from your little powers?” he said.

She knew he was right. She walked away from the bars and sat on the simple wooden cot that sat in the room, head in her hand, she felt a wave of sadness again.

“Oh don’t cry I’ll be nice, it’s been so long since I’ve had company, my manners are lacking. I apologize Lady Seraphina,” he said with a bow.

She stood again and walked to her bars.

“How do you know my name?” she asked.

He laughed again. “Knowledge, it’s my gift and my curse. I know a lot of things and it’s never done me any good, the more you know, the more dangerous you are, the more they fear you, the more people fear you and the more they hate you,” he said.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Prisoner that’s my name and now it’s yours as well,” he said, then he smiled at her. “Want to learn something?”

She looked at him. “So long as it’s not about me. I know all I need to about me,” she said.

“Oh no, it’s about prisons and cages. It might help you. See cages are metal and they make these strong locks.” He tapped the lock. “Can’t break that, can’t pick it, even if I had something to pick it with, but look! He pointed at the hinges of the cage. They were a simple metal prong stuck between three loops.

“A man with a lot of time on his hands could get that loose, he could steal grease from the meat of his meal and apply it, he could hit it with his hand for days and days.” He held up his hand showing a scar that had healed again and again. “And finally, it would be ready to pull.” With a nod, he simply pulled the large prong out, first from the top, then the bottom, with a shove, the cage door fell loudly to the ground.

The man walked out from his cell and turning around slowly laughed. to himself. He bowed to her with all the pride of an actor on a stage.

“Didn’t you put yourself in?” she asked.

“I did but as you will find out, after a few hundred years you’ll regret your decision,” he said.

“A few hundred years?” she cried.

“Oh yes, time moves very strangely here. Many years alone with your torment and only moments back home. Now do you want me to free you? I’m going to leave this place and try escape properly, some company would be nice.”

“But I belong here” she said.

“Why?” he asked simply.

“Because I killed all those people. I wanted what they had and I killed them for it. I’m a monster,” she said.

“What I’ve learned is people are weak, so often they follow in the footsteps of their fathers, or in your case uncles. You think you would have been a killer if you were born to a family of dairy farmers. Do you think deep, deep in your very chest beats an evil heart, that you’re rotten and it would have been this way no matter what, that you would have been this way no matter what lesson you’d be taught by real loving parents?”

He was right, she didn’t feel that way, what choice had they ever given her. Her uncle had taught her from her first memory that she was better than other people. They were as cattle to people like her and their deaths were nothing if they could give her something. If anything, they should be happy to have helped her live a full life.

“I never had a choice,” she said softly.

“No you didn’t and let’s not lie to ourselves, it felt good, we enjoyed it but we just did what they taught us. Is it our fault we were good students and learned our lessons well?”

He walked to the bars of her cage and placed his hands on them.

“Tell me your fears,” he said.

She felt it come rushing out of her. “I’m afraid I’m truly wicked. I deserve to be here but I’m so scared of what will happen to me, that I’ll never see the sun again, that I’ll never know love that I’ll just be lost as a terrible memory of someone who I once was. I’m scared they’ll never give me a chance to prove I could be better,” she said.

She saw a wave of power rush through him and snapping his hand back hard on the bars, he ripped them free. The cage door buckled and he threw it easily to the floor. She was stunned at the power in his body.

“You could have escaped any time you wanted?” she asked.

“Once that may have been true, but sadly now I need you, your real human fear, not that of these dead husks, but soon you will soon see little dove, the true escape is from the cage in your mind, there is no right and wrong, there is no good and evil, there is only the fearful and the strong”

***

“You’ve spent too much time with that toothpick in your hand and not fighting with a real weapon,” yelled the duke of Bloodcrest, or Snake Tongue as he was known in the Keep. It was far from an insult and showed that he spoke more than one tongue and was knowledgeable or good with words.

Seth dodged the attack of the guard who swung a huge sword in an overhead swing. Snake Tongue stood on the sidelines yelling at him as he fought.

“If you were used to a decent weapon of your own you could have blocked that rather than running away. Seth held the huge sword of his own and was once again getting used to the weight of it. It was nearly five foot long and weighed so much it strained his arms, even if he was stronger than most men, it was something he’d not done in a while.

“Remember all that training as a boy? Lifting logs? Swinging a tree branch around, remember where you’re from and fucking fight like it,” he yelled.

Seth forgot the general, he forgot the people he’d taken, the swords masters and tutors and remembered his own training in this Keep, back when his skill were his own. Seth jumped forward swinging the huge blade towards him. Snake Tongue blocked it overhead, two-handed, but the power of Seth’s attack sent him reeling back. Seth charged in hard and caught the man in the face with a sharp elbow, sending him back to the stones.

Seth swung around in a huge arc, swinging his blade wide. The two men behind him forced to jump back. The first lunge straight back with a sideward slash. Seth stopped his blade mid flight, his muscles screaming with the strain, brought it back and blocked it.

“That’s it boy, strength, strength, strength. Skill is important too but the blade must go where you want it to. Seth’s blade smashed the other away and he brought it up cutting the air in front of the man, from balls to throat, the man stepped back with a nod and Seth fought on.

He’d been training for near on what seemed like two weeks or more, not that he’d slept much. Snake Tongue kept him plenty busy. When he wasn’t fighting with the broadsword, he was sitting by the fire as Snake Tongue told him stories of fallen king’s and old Northern legends he’d learned as a boy. The man spoke the stories like things he’d done himself and would question Seth on who was which king or hero, when they lived and what they had done.

Seth stood panting from the battle against the five guards and was proud of himself. This time, he’d not gotten cut once. It felt good to be himself again and regain a little bit of home, even if this wasn’t really home. It certainly felt like it.

“Now get the fuck outside and cool off,” Snake Tongue yelled.

This was part of his training as well. After every fight, he’d go sit in the cold of outside and reflect. Seth crumpled ungainly on the stones of the courtyard and felt the frosty wind cooling him. He closed his eyes and thought back on his life. Not his journey from home but his journey within it. He’d been a normal boy, son of a hunter and farmer. One of four sons and the second oldest. That meant he’d not get the farm but would have to prove himself with the sword and win fame and money for the family that way. It was a good thing he’d always been tall and loved to fight. He thought of his two years at the Keep, thinking now they may have been the best in his life. Only his friendship with Grimm, Goldie, Flint and Stone had been anything close. All the great deeds he’d done and fights he’d been in the times training in this Keep were so good and simple. He knew what he was, what he had to do and did it well.

Seth opened his eyes to see Snake Tongue looking at him, with a slight smile.

“Ok boy, you’re off I’ve done all I can and I’m pretty happy you won’t bring shame to my Keep and crest.”

“Thanks,” Seth said simply.

The man laughed and reaching down with huge hands helped him to his feet.

“Now let’s get a proper meal in you and some mead before you’re off, it would be a shame to get your arse kicked on an empty stomach.”

Chapter Twenty Two.

It was a terrifying feeling. Grimm could hear every sound, covered with a thin blanket and in a tiny hole covered with sand. He kept expecting the horse of some big lug to step right on him, but they were far enough away from the main camp and that wouldn’t happen. From his sand pit, he could hear the not so quite sneaking of a hundred or so men. There creaking leather armor and loose weapons sounding loud and clumsy to his ears which had grown used to the quiet of his sandy grave. The Reds had arrived finally and now they just had to wait.

Of course Grimm didn’t want to fight them, it was all a ruse but still they had something they had to do. The main group of desert nomads had left. They took a few belongings each and rode as far as they could towards home. White eyes herself and around ten other men were staying. She’d spoken to him the night before and told him of the original white eyes mission and thus hers. It was her job to fight the order and keep the worship of the many faced bringer alive. Right now they no one to bring the fight to them and that’s what she was going to do.

The Reds destroyed their tiny village, burned the huts, smashed what was left and killed a lone horse that was too old to ride anymore. He didn’t know if Goldie was with them but after what seemed an age, he heard his friend’s voice.

“Ok their gone, lets quick march a few miles east and camp, if they are a few lurking around I’d rather not be here,” he said.

Soon enough they were gone and the sounds of the desert came back. He hated all this waiting but that’s how these people fought, with patience and stealth, it went against every instinct he had. Then he heard it. He pulled a borrowed bow close to him under the sand and found his four arrows, he’d never had much use for one but was as good as little sister with it now. The sound of horses. He heard the eagles as white eyes called them. They were trailing behind the Reds, keeping an eye on them and they were far from happy. An older man’s voice spoke.

“Do you see any bodies?” he yelled. “How did they know we were coming?”

The sound of him dropping from his horse to the soft sand and that of at least fifteen other men doing the same.

“Search the tents and one of you let me know where the hell they went,” he yelled.

Within moments, a younger voice spoke. “Sir there are tracks leading east to the desert. I’d say just a few hours ago, animals and people,” he said.

“Great so if these idiots can’t do the job, we can, mount up and lets ride,” he yelled.

If they got on their horses then it would be over. They’d be gone in minutes with them having no way to catch them. Then he heard it, three short whistles.

Grimm slid from his sandy pit as quietly as he could, his boots wrapped in tight fabric to muffle his footfalls. His axe waited for him at a nearby tree so it wouldn’t rattle or click. Drawing on the memories of various footpads and criminals he snuck in the shadows of the night with a stealth that didn’t suit his size or temperament. Grimm slunk into the cover of a small shrub, Kneeling down he surveyed the camp. There were, at least, twenty of them, each man had a horse next to him or nearby so he’d have to take at least two to even the odds. The bald red tunic wearing men started mounting their horses and would soon be lost to them. Grimm heard the second whistle sound and releasing his grip, let loose his first red tipped arrow. It flew the distance from his hiding spot in a moment and hit the man hard. He had his back turned and the arrow took him in the back of the neck, the arrow flying with such force that it punched a bloody path through his neck, spine and only got caught on the feathers in his throat. He didn’t even cry out, but hit the ground face first, with a loud thud.

Grimm fired another two arrows in a hurry. The men were mounting horses and he hit them badly. One in the side as he climbed on his horse and one in the stomach as he turned to face his attackers. Both fell wounded but not dead. Grimm dropped the bow to the ground and grabbing the familiar handle of his axe, took it up. Hearing the war cries he knew his new friends had done the same. Grimm ran to the short distance to the camp. At least, ten of the eagles still stood with weapons drawn, their fellows fallen around them with arrows sprouting from them like deadly flowers. They circled around the old man in the center, he had his blade drawn but they protected him like a king.

A young bald man ran at Grimm with a dagger, he almost laughed as the boy lunged at him, Grimm dashed passed him dagger arm and pulling back on the handle of his axe, slashed his face hard with the blade. The body flew backwards and Grimm ran on, without losing stride. The desert men and white eyes were circling the men, firing arrows at close range and slowly they all fell in bloody heaps. One was on his horse and turned to flee but a well-placed arrow, then two more, took him in the back.

In a bloody moment, the only one left was the old man. He stood, dagger drawn and defiant, waving it at anyone who would come near.

“Come on you dirt lovers. I’m not afraid. I bring fear. I don’t feel it,” he yelled as he slashed at one. The man jumped backwards easily and fired his notched arrow, shot the man in the leg. He toppled to the sand with a cry, clutching the arrow deep in his leg.

White eyes walked up to him. A drawn bow pointed at his face.

“Go on then, kill me you savage bitch, send me home,” he yelled though in pain.

She laughed at him and lowered her bow.

“Now why would I kill you when we just went to so much trouble to catch you?”

***

Thellas had sent three couriers at different times, along different roads and one straight across the land. He knew, at least, one of them would get there. It was best to always be prepared. It was hard to run a kingdom from this damned Keep at the far ends of the earth but this is where he’d need to be when his army marched out to Twin Plains. His main body of men were only a day’s ride from there and he needed them to be ready once Goldie and his kind had done the cleanup. As soon as those Red Bastards had caused enough trouble he’d put an end to them. He’d only need to give them a day or two to burn a few Twin Plains field first and he’d step in, the savior. He had no idea why Renfra had picked the three targets he had, but one slaughter was as good as another to rile the people to hatred.

He raised his naked body from the small bed that had been Elizebetha’s, throwing off the covers and walked from it. He stretched and stepped into the finely embroidered robe that was passed to him by his serving man. He turned to look at the black haired girl who slept naked in the bed and frowned.

“Get up and get out,” he shouted at the girl.

She roused quickly from her clearly pretended sleep and silently slunk from the bed. Her skinny white arms covering her breasts as she walked from the room without a word, her hair down covering her face. He’d always had sex with them in the dark but then the sun came it ruined it all. Still she was attractive enough, he almost laughed, farm girls, always so eager to believe his words, what did they imagine? That he truly wanted anything from them other than what lay between their pale legs? That a king was going to rescue them from their dull pointless lives of toil? The country needed farmer and people should be happy to stay in the roles given them by life. Some people were born to be farmers and others king’s there was no changing that. From all accounts this upstart Seth needed a sharp lesson in knowing one's place.

“Breakfast my king?” the man spoke to him with a bow.

“What is it this time? More runny eggs and stale bread? I hate this place,” he said.

“Oh no my lord, we had some fresh produce brought in from the city, the boy rode all night, very suitable.”

Thellas felt the anger leaving him, now this was a good man. He looked at the server and couldn’t remember his name though he’d seen his face every day for long enough. Being good at his simple role and happy to serve.

“Good,” he said simply.

After he’d finished being dressed the king wandered from the room into the cold of the Keep’s dining room and ate his breakfast. It was well enough, fresh bread, at least, still the simple pleasures in life were escaping him. He should have enjoyed that girl and her soft crying last night but no. He should have enjoyed this food but no, something was at him like a dark splinter in his mind.

Thellas thought of the last few days. It was all going to plan and then he saw it, one memory that turned up again and again. The memory of Renfra, his old mentor, raising a hand to him. He felt the sting of his slap across his face, the feeling of being a child once again and been scolded like one.

Who the hell did this man think he was, to strike the king? Thellas had been blinded by his feeling for the old man, he’d taught him, trained him, showed him the right of the order but now his time was passed. If the order needed a leader it could well be him. Who was Renfra after all, he himself had told the king he’d be merely a travelling scribe before the order found him, hardly a man fit for leadership.

“Get me a sergeant,” he said to a server who was pouring him some hot tea.

The man came back with a soldier at his side. Thellas didn’t know his name either but he looked like a sergeant. Young stern face that looked used to command, a rapier that hung at his side with a relaxed but ready stance.

“Take a hundred men, go after Renfra and his men who are following the Reds and give them a message from the king,” he said, looking at his eggs on his plate.

“What message my lord?”

“Tell them I’m very unhappy with Renfra,” he said.

The man stiffened then relaxed, a small unseen smile came to the man’s face.

“My lord, may I tell him myself?” he asked.

Thellas looked up and marked the man. Young but with a fierce look in his eyes, he liked it.

“Of course, but tell him slowly.”

***

Goldie marched with his men away from the slow burning of the small village and cursed into the darkness. The desert folk weren’t there, which was a good thing, but he’d still seen the child-like glee on the fire-lit faces of the Reds as they’d set their huts ablaze. Sometimes when speaking with Farirkar he forgot what these men really were. Fucking animals. He thought Quest and his other Desert lads would, at least, be against this but they viewed these people as outcasts and were more than happy to come along.

The Reds all seemed disappointed the village was deserted he’d only told Farirkar about Grimm and Josette warning them as was glad for his silence he trusted these men as far as he had gold to pay and now it was the king paying them. They’d be shocked when the king turned on them, but turn he would, he was a noble and one thing he’d learned from doing dark deeds for the rich was they liked nothing left to remind them of it, especially the tools they had used.

The king had kept him in the dark about their third target but he’d found out what it was. The lucky lady’s temple, or township rather and fuck if he was attacking that. He’d be on the right side of the wall when that battle came.

“I’m off,” he said quietly to Farirkar as they marched, their force of men marching to their makeshift camp set up by the others.

“What? Why?” he said.

“Those women will be fine, they’ll listen to Minsetta and Josette, but even if they have time to get to the lucky lady’s gambling halls, those men won’t listen to them, they’ll just buy them drinks and try bed them,” he said.

“And you think they’ll listen to you,” Farirkar said.

“I don’t give a fuck if they do, but I have to try. I’m not letting the king or anyone shit on the only thing in my life that has ever done me any good,” he said in the dark.

“Calm down boy. I’ve never heard you like this, since when do you care about things like gods and temples?” he said.

“Since I was a boy she was there for me, luck has been all I’ve had many times, no coin, no friends but a belief that it would all work out ok, just because someone up there, or down here liked me”

“Fine, I don’t need you. I’ll meet you there and we’ll be there to help not fight, but you’ll need a horse,” Farirkar said.

Goldie just grinned at him in the dark and started to jog towards the direction of the road. “I’ll find one, have faith”

“What about your men? Skinner, the north lads?” He yelled as Goldie ran.

“Tell them to listen to little sister, she’ll know what to do,” he yelled back.

Goldie jogged for miles and hours across the land. He pushed his body as hard as he could, having to stop every now and then to suck in some ragged breaths and keep going. In his mind, he held the image of her. It was the way he’d always pictured her. A beautiful woman with a wicked smile and dice in her hands, it was the image from the temple he’d first seen her.

He was nearing the roadway and finally found it. Pushing through some low shrub he was on it. The hard packed dirt was a relief from running in the sand and he stopped to catch his breath once more. If he could find a horse then it would only take him a few days hard ride to make his destination. He just needed a horse.

“I need a horse,” He yelled out loudly.

Waiting for a moment, Goldie took in the silence of the road, the long distance ahead of him. Nothing. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Goldie started a slower pace walking up the hard packed roadway. The sun was starting to rise above the land and the chill was leaving the air.