Dawn of Darkness: Part 1 (Where the Shadows Stalk) Read online

  "Look at that, we outnumber them five to one! There's safety in numbers!" The soldiers eyed each other, they were all veterans of battle, and they knew that wasn't always true. One of them shrugged, what the villagers didn't know couldn't hurt them.

  "Yeah!" He nodded his head to the others, what could it hurt to give them hope of an easy victory? "Safety in numbers!" It might even make them bolder, and fight harder if they truly thought that they could win; and if they did fight harder ... well, maybe they just might.

  "We will destroy them!" shouted the commoner and the crowd cheered with sudden confidence. The soldiers looked at one another again, they all knew that was a big call.

  "The enemy is weak and we are strong!" he ranted, and the crowd cheered him again. "I spit on them!" The crowd cheered. "I piss on them!" The crowd cheered louder. "I shit on them!" The crowd cheered even louder, and now even the soldiers were starting to cheer. "Let's take the fight to them!" The crowd screamed in a frenzy.

  "NOOOO!" shouted one of the soldiers, suddenly realising where all this ranting was leading.

  "CHAAAARGE!" shouted the commoner and the crowd, emboldened and frenzied by this man's words broke rank and charged the horde - what followed was a brutal massacre.

  Blood flew, flesh was torn asunder as the carcasses piled themselves high. Why? Why? WHY? Were the words that repeated themselves inside the mind of the soldier. Why would you charge them? You fucking idiot! Now he was fighting for his life. Bloodied bodies lay strewn over the ground, some were horde, but most were villagers.

  The horde army had slaughtered the first wave of attackers like they were fighting children. Broadsword and heavy axe rending through flesh and bone like a butcher's cleaver. Most of these people didn't know how to fight and had just thrown themselves at the enemy; for that, they were cut down like wheat in the field, now their bodies littered the street.

  Seeing their comrades’ fall before them caused the remaining villagers to retreat in panic. The dire wolves went after them like frenzied beasts, dispersing the crowd and bringing down anyone who strayed from the mass; ripping them to shreds with their razor sharp fangs.

  Soon everyone was dead, the ones that had avoided the beasts retreated back to the gate where they were mown down by arrows. The armoured beast-men walked through the square casually hacking down all they encountered. There was no hurry, there was nowhere for the villagers to run - a river of blood flowed through the streets.

  Only one soldier now lived; around him lay a pile of demon carcasses, wolves and armoured bestials. He was tired and sweaty and covered in blood. No, he would not go down without a fight, but he was surrounded and had no room to move. As he fought those in front of him, an axe ripped through his back from top to bottom, and he fell to the ground in a bloody pool.

  Whilst lying there, bleeding out, he could only think about one thing … the stupid commoner who shouted out 'Charge!' What the fuck were you thinking ... you fucking idiot! His head slumped to the side, and he closed his eyes; the world turning forever black.

  ***

  Dray opened his eyes, something had him by the throat. Now what? He could feel sharp teeth piercing through his neck and shaking him. Loud growling echoed in his ears as he sloshed about in other people's blood.

  "Get off me!" he grunted through the pain. He reached up trying to wrestle the thing off of him, but it was too strong.

  Bright lights sizzled across the surface of Dray's eyes like azure lightning bolts, his right hand turned ice blue and burned like fire. He took the beast by the throat, and the power began to course through his veins.

  Anger and rage flowed through him, unleashing a fury within. The power of cold and ice surged from his hands, manifesting as an arctic torrent, and the beast’s head froze, crystallising akin to glass.

  “DIE!!” Dray screamed. The power resonated through him like the toll of bells. The beast’s head cracked, and then shattered; sending ice shards hurtling out in all directions. He stood up weary and exhausted; there would be no peace here.

  Dazed and confused he waded through the blood; there were hacked and mangled bodies lying everywhere. The pain in his back was overwhelming, yet still, he walked on. His back felt fused together, like a solid block and he walked rigidly with an irregular gait. Every step was a painful struggle and progress was slow.

  A creature jumped onto his back. He reached behind himself and pulled it over his shoulder; dealing with these things was starting to wear thin. He slammed it down in front of him and impaled it with his sword; blood flew up, spraying his face. Where the sword had come from he had no idea and he didn't care - he would kill the things with his bare hands and teeth if he had to.

  He slowly walked back to where he had last seen the Oracle; despite the pain, he still had a mission to fulfil. His eyes were blurry and filled with blood, so he wiped them and found he could see more clearly. Good. It was not his blood. There. That was the spot he last saw her; how he knew, he wasn't sure. There was blood and hay and mud covering everything, but he was certain that was the spot.

  He could see her blood trail leading towards the nearby buildings. She has dragged herself away, he thought. There was blood everywhere, but somehow he knew which blood was hers; it was brighter than the rest and had an ice blue tinge to it. He knew he was the only one who could see it, but how he knew he could not say.

  Staggering, he walked on, following the trail. The world seemed to spin as he walked; his legs felt like lead, his feet were dead weights, blood seeped from his wounds, but somehow he managed to push on.

  "Oracle," he whispered. "I'm coming." Just hang on. "I'm coming." He willed his feet to keep moving. Looking ahead he could see the trail leading into the stables located behind the local blacksmith. Oracle. He wouldn't leave without her.

  He had to rest against the doorframe when he entered the stables; he had to let the pain subside. He looked around; it looked like a battle had taken place in there. Doors were ripped off their hinges, hay and mud were strewn about, wood was splintered and scattered. Dead bodies of horses lay everywhere, eviscerated and half eaten; blood was splattered over the walls. There were entrails on the floor and a lung draped over the fourth rung of the ladder.

  Dray tried to get his breath back; the world was spinning, dark clouds swirled in his mind. He held his head to steady himself, he needed to regain control.

  "If you're going to help me Tempus, then help me," he muttered. "Why do you play these games? Why are you making me suffer so?" Get a grip man! Taking a step away from the doorframe he stumbled, but managed to remain upright. "Don't lose it … not yet." He knew he needed to keep moving before he lost his body to the pain or his mind to the madness.

  The sight of the bloody massacre should have made him sick to the stomach, but he barely even noticed, all he cared about was finding the Oracle and getting her out of there. He stumbled through the stable, half blind; everything was darkening around him and white spots marred his vision.

  He followed the illuminated blood trail to the far side of the stable, it ended at a small pile of hay that had been strewn about the place. He bent down and scraped some of the bloodstained straw to the side, and there was the Oracle, just as he knew she would be. She was unconscious and looked as though someone had given her a good beating. She had a large cut across her forehead and her hair was matted with blood - but she was alive. He smiled at that ... she was alive!

  Dray took the Oracle in his arms and picked her up, she was surprisingly light. By Tempus it felt good to have her near him. He didn't know why, but it did. He made his way back out of the stables and into the street; it was dangerous out there, they were exposed in a way he didn't like, but what other choice was there? To stay in the stables and seek refuge from the night? Twenty-five savaged horse carcasses told him 'NO!'

  He looked down at the Oracle and even as bruised and battered as she was, she was still beautiful. He stood there, unable to move, barely able to think, barely able to stay conscious. We b
oth need healing badly. It was a simple thought, in fact, it was stating the plain obvious, but sometimes from simple thoughts came the best ideas. The Temple of Kara. He knew what he had to do, he had to get the Oracle to the Temple and pray to the gods that there were priests still alive to help them. Surely if anyone can protect themselves from the consuming darkness, it would be the priests and priestesses of Kara. It might even be the only safe place left in the city.

  He turned and walked, carrying the Oracle in his arms all the way. He walked past the dead and the dying, soldiers and commoners that had screamed alike. He walked through the stench; breathing in the death, the corruption, and the vileness. He walked over the shit, the blood and the piss-soaked earth. He walked past the slaughtered corpses of men and women; bodies butchered, their flesh hacked and torn. He walked over dead children – even they had found no mercy at the hands of the invaders.

  In the distance battle raged. His mind echoed with the screams, his ears rang with the torment, his body shook from the pain … but still he walked.

  He walked with the pain, he walked through the pain, he walked until he couldn't even feel the pain anymore. He walked in a state of delirium, he walked on the edge of madness, he walked until he could walk no more and that was when he finally lost consciousness. Completely drained and exhausted, he had endured more than his body could bear and he collapsed to the ground, the Oracle sprawling out in front of him.

  2. THE BROTHERS: HUNTERS OF BOAR

  This tale starts with two brothers, and like all tales, there are countless ways to begin. Whether they be humble or great, the beginnings are many. Where to begin is often the hardest part of telling a tale, but every tale must have a beginning.

  It had been hours, five hours to be exact. Five long hours of tracking in the beating sun, five long hours of trudging across grassy plains; the brothers felt like they had just about had enough. Sweat dripped off of their bodies, sand-flies bit and hovered, the sun blasted down upon them like a raging furnace; sapping all their strength.

  Yes, the heat took its toll on the brothers; beating down on them, making them suffer, making them pay dearly for even daring to go out in it and yet … they were determined. No boar escaped them, they would track it till the end of the world if need be – they would never give up.

  The sun beating down upon the back of Aiden’s neck made him feel tired and weary, the sweat dripping down his back made him feel sticky. His shirt clung to his body, his feet ached and pulsated, but that didn't matter, he could deal with that; he may have only been sixteen years old, but he had been through this many times before.

  Aiden pushed on, every step he took was like lifting an iron weight. He could hear his brother panting beside him; it was a treacherous march, but he was determined not to go home empty-handed.

  Despite his intentions though, he faced a serious problem. They had run out of water half an hour ago, and with the sun pelting down the way it was, that could be a death sentence. They would have to turn back soon whether Aiden liked it or not.

  Aiden took a moment to ponder his current situation. The fresh tracks of a wild boar were found by the brothers five hours ago. It should have taken them no more than an hour to catch up to it, but here they were, five hours later, still hunting and with no end in sight.

  How can this be? thought Aiden. Were the boars getting smarter? They seemed to be, the hunts were taking longer every time they went out. It was like they somehow knew what he was up to and were going out of their way to make his life a living hell. These boars are out to get me. Aiden ran his fingers through his hair, brushing off the dust that had settled as he surveyed the land that lay before them. His brother walked up beside him to help assess the situation.

  At twenty years of age, Greegan was already someone not to be trifled with. Not only was he as strong as an ox, but he was also huge, deeply muscled and towered like a giant. His long, blonde hair was always tied back in a thick plait that ran straight down the middle of his back. His beard formed two short plaits at the front - he modelled his look on the barbarian warriors of old.

  "I think we should go Aiden, we have lost the boar."

  “What are you talking about?” replied Aiden. "The tracks are right there." He pointed to a set of lightly trodden boar tracks, which were barely visible to an average eye, but quite clear to the eyes of any half decent tracker.

  "Well, I don't think they are boar tracks, so let's go home." Aiden looked Greegan up and down - was he serious?

  "Brother, that's the clearest set of boar tracks I have ever seen." If there was one thing Aiden hated, it was being told he was wrong when he knew he was right.

  "I don't see anything, let's go."

  Aiden had a suspicion as to what was going on here. Greegan wanted to go home because he was hungry. It didn’t matter how close they were to success, once his stomach started rumbling there was no reasoning with him.

  "Look Greegan, we can't give up now, not when we're so close. You see how fresh the tracks are … a wild boar has walked right through this spot, less than five minutes ago."

  "I don't care if the boar is sunbaking under that tree over there. It's been five hours, we're out of water and I'm hungry! That's all I need to know, so let's go home."

  "But the tracks ..." Aiden started.

  "Burn the tracks!" yelled Greegan. "This is over, and I’m going home!" Storming off in the direction of their family farm, Greegan didn't bother waiting for a reply.

  "Well go home then, you great lumbering oaf! You were only slowing me down anyway!" Greegan stopped dead in his tracks and stood there motionless for a moment. Lumbering … oaf? Greegan closed his eyes and took a deep breath; his fists clenched and released. Slowly he turned around and walked back to his brother.

  “Who are you calling a lumbering oaf? We can’t all be as quiet and as small a mouse you know. Greegan leant down into Aiden's face. Greegan’s size might have intimidated anybody else, but Aiden was used to it.

  "You! You great oaf!" before Greegan could say another word, Aiden lunged with his spear. Greegan quickly blocked it with his own, deflecting it past the right side of his body; Aiden lost his balance and fell forward. Greegan promptly grabbed Aiden’s spear in one hand and flung his sibling back with the other. Aiden landed flat on his back, and now Greegan had both spears.

  “I demand that you give me back my spear!” Aiden yelled, covered in dust and pointing a crooked finger straight at his brother.

  “Do you?” asked Greegan, promptly snapping both spears in half across his knee. “Here then, have it,” he continued, throwing the broken pieces at Aiden.

  Aiden could not believe what he had just seen; that was his second favourite spear. His goat-loving, shit-for-brains, dung-smear of a brother had just broken his fucking spear!

  “You’re a dead man!” He leapt up, fists flying at tremendous speed, dishing out a barrage of punches. Aiden was much faster than Greegan, but Greegan was much bigger; his great height and massive stature were posing a problem. Aiden was aiming for the face, but those huge arms of Greegan’s just seemed to keep getting in the way.

  “You hit like a little girl!” taunted Greegan. Aiden could feel that he was starting to fatigue; first he laboured with his breath and then his arms seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. He looked up at Greegan, and what he saw made his blood boil - Greegan had a smarmy grin on his face!

  What does he think he’s playing at? Then it dawned on him, the bastard was trying to wear him out! He looked at Greegan, who was still grinning. If I never do another thing in my life, I will die happy knowing that the last thing I did was to wipe that stupid grin off your face!

  Aiden launched himself into Greegan, dive-tackling him around the waist and bringing him to the ground. Scrambling up, Aiden quickly got on top of his brother and started throwing punches, but Greegan had his huge arms out again; stopping the onslaught. Finding that his punches were having little effect, Aiden grabbed Greegan around the collar.


  “Stop grinning, you bastard! Stop grinning!” Greegan rocked them both back and managed to gain enough momentum to roll both of them over three times, landing with him on top and Aiden on his back.

  “Why don’t you make me little girl?” Each brother had the other around the neck, and each brother’s face was turning a crimson red, a few snipey remarks had transformed into a battle to the death, it was now only a matter of who passed out first.

  Just as unconsciousness was dawning on them both, they were suddenly interrupted by a loud ‘GRUNT!!’ They immediately stopped trying to strangle each other and looked up to the source.

  “There it is,” Aiden whispered, and ahead of them, was indeed the wild boar. It seemed to know they were there but wasn’t taking much notice of them. It was just snuffling through the dirt, with an occasional grunt or snort; every now and then it would lift its head up and shake it with a small sneeze when it had breathed in too much dust.

  The brothers remained absolutely still and silent as they watched it. Greegan started to slowly get off of Aiden, keeping as low to the ground as he could.

  “Make no sudden movements brother, or he’ll bolt.”

  “Right,” Aiden replied, rolling over. They were both careful not to disturb the boar and moved slowly and deliberately, without ever taking their eyes off of it.

  Greegan slowly made his way back to the broken spear halves whilst Aiden crawled closer to the boar. Just stay where you are, you little bastard! Aiden knew he had to be careful. Just got to get a little closer. The intense concentration of the situation was brought to a sudden halt as a loud ‘CRACK!!’ emanated from beneath Aiden’s left knee. The boar jumped with a loud ‘GRUNT!!’, as if ready to bolt, but it did not.

  The brothers froze like statues, there was a long pause, no sound, no movement - Aiden didn’t even dare to breathe. The boar sniffed the air and looked around and upon deciding that there was no immediate danger, it went back to snuffling through the dirt.