Kiss the Darkness Ch. 00 - Prologue

Prologue

The Dronar were advancing. Their blanched and deformed bodies illuminated by the moon light. As more ships appeared, carrying what seemed like an endless horde, the men began to lose hope. There was no end in sight.

"Majesty." Girart looked to Guillame. "I suggest we retreat. We're no match for these creatures."

"If we give up, what will stop them from invading Avimur?"

"There is no helping that now." Girart told the King. "We may have time to get you and your family to safety, but the rest of the kingdom will be lost."

Guillame sneered. "I will not tuck tail and run! The safety of my people is my top priority."

"And your safety is mine." Girart pleaded with him. "Sire, the Dronar have already taken the beach. If they make it past the dunes we won't be able to keep them out of Qedor. Once they take the village, Avimur will fall."

"I won't leave my people defenseless." Guillame turned to look at Girart and when their eyes met, Girart knew the discussion was finished. The King had made up his mind. He would fight to defend his subjects, and die if that was what the Gods demanded, but he would not flee.

"I will stay by your side." Girart told him. "And I will die for you."

Guillame placed his hand on Girart's shoulder. "You're a good man." He told him. "And a good friend. If this is the day we die, then we die together."

Girart nodded. "I will always follow you my King. To the golden halls of Vinac, or the black depths of Vessard if that is where we are destined for."

Guillame smiled. "This night we dine with Gods. Vinac will welcome us my friend for we shall die a warriors death." Guillame mounted his horse then addressed his troops. "Friends, brothers! Tonight the enemy comes for our lives and for the lives of our women, our children, our families! Tonight our enemies come for our blood but we will not stand down, nor will we run like cowards. If you be brave men, then follow me into battle, follow me into a glorious death, and walk with me to the gates of Vinac where we shall receive a warriors welcome. If this is our last night in this world then let us spend it fighting for those we love. Ride with me and protect your families, protect the simple people of Qedor, protect Avimur!"

A chorus of hoots and cheers rose from the soldiers as each prepared to ride into battle, following their King to a fight that each of them knew they could not possibly win.

More of the Dronar filled the beach, like ghastly specters forming an impenetrable wall. King Guillame raised his sward and charged in. War cries followed as the troops of Avimur stormed the beach. The valor of the men was admirable as they fought against impossible odds, and as man after man was cut down, it seemed that all hope was lost. The Dronar were too strong, too deadly, and they out numbered the King's army three to one.

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"Look at them, M' Lord. Mortals are so foolish. They don't stand a chance against the Dronar horde yet still they ride against them. I'll never understand the will of mortals. Why throw their lives away like this. Is it vanity?"

Ar'gas laughed. "It is not vanity my friend. It's simply their desire to preserve what is theirs, even in the face of defeat they will not abandon their own kind to death, or worse."

"Seems rather foolish to worry about others when they can save themselves. Let the weaker ones die so the strong can survive. Is that not the way?"

"Perhaps it is our way Exos, but it is not theirs. They will die defending the ones they love."

Exos scoffed at this. "Love. There is no greater sin."

"Mortals see it as a virtue."

"Then that is their misfortune."

"Perhaps..." Ar'gas watched the ensuing battle with great contemplation and growing concern. "When Avimur falls, the realms will be defenseless."

"What is it to us, M 'Lord? They will never take Vessard. What care have we for these lesser beings?"

"Once they take Qedor, Plainvin will be next."

Exos raised an eye brow as he watched his master, growing ever more curious. "You're worried for that female."

Ar'gas nodded. "The nobles will fight once the country side is destroyed but they will be no match for the Dronar. I worry what will become of the women. I fear their fate will be worse then that of the men."

Exos shrugged. "They will be taken as slaves and consorts. Those who do not cooperate will be killed."

Ar'gas sighed. "I'm afraid, my friend, I can not allow that to happen."

"Then what do you propose to do?"

"I propose that we stop this senseless slaughter. Drive the beasts back across the rune sea and let them know that Avimur is under our protection."

"Sire, you can't actually mean..."

Ar'gas shot Exos a stern look. His intent was clear. "I can not lose her, Exos."

"Why? Why is this one mortal woman so special to you? Why risk your own life to protect her?"

"Because my friend, I love her."

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The banquet hall was filled with the roar of laughter. Men congratulated each other on their victory and the women swooned at the courage of their men. The food was abundant and the wine was an endless, flowing, river. By night fall, the night following the battle, most of the Kings army was drunk but still the celebration went on.

"Sire, tell us again of your glorious victory against the Dronar!" A young Paige yelled from the back of the room.

The King rose, bringing his goblet to his mouth as he drank. Red wine spilled over his lips and down his crimson beard. "There we were." He began. "The beach was red with blood. Ours and theirs. I'd slaughtered twenty, no...thirty of the beasts! Their King rode up to me on a massive, headless goat, and he stared me down. I knew this was the moment of my death but I was not afraid. I stared back and growled, prepare to die, heathen! The creature raised his club, ready to strike, when I drove my blade straight through him! He fell, in a heap at my feet. I took his head then and the victory was ours! The rest of the monsters retreated to the sea, back to the wastelands beyond."

"Show us the head!" Shouts emerged from within the crowd of merry makers. "Show us the head!" They yelled again.

"Would that I could, but I tossed the disgusting thing into the sea. From this day forth, when the Dronar look to the blackened waters they will see the head of their King and they will know never to darken our beaches again."

Another eruption of cheers shook the banquet hall. More wine was poured as the minstrels began to play a victory tune on their pipes and the celebration went on.

It was two hours till dawn when King Guillame stumbled drunkenly to his bed chambers, a half clothed wench on each arm. He pushed open the massive doors and walked into the room then froze. The smile that he'd sported the entire night quickly faded as he ordered the girls to leave him. Disappointed, the girls bowed and hurried out of the bed chamber. Guillame slammed the doors closed as he glared at the figure standing before him.

"How dare you enter my bed chambers!" He hissed. "What do you want here?"

Lord Ar'gas stepped forth from the shadows, the look on his face stern and disproving. "Have you forgotten our arrangement?" He asked.

"No, of course not." Guillame grumbled. He walked to the bar at the other end of the room and poured himself a drink. "I've not forgotten."

"Good, because I will hold you to it. Ismey will arrive tomorrow by carriage. I will trust her into your charge, your majesty."

"Yes, yes." Guillame sighed. "She will be given the best possible care. I'll treat her as a member of my own family, you have nothing to worry about."

"Do I have your word that no harm will come to her?"

Guillame shot Ar'gas an angry look. "Of course you have my word. A bargain is a bargain. I promise you that once she arrives at Avimur, absolutely no harm will come to her."

Ar'gas took a step closer as he stared at Guillame. "Remember your promise to me mortal, lest your loyal subjects discover who it really was that drove the Dronar horde back to Vigrot. As long as Ismey is under your protection, Avimur is under mine."

"My word is my bond." Guillame sneered. "You have nothing to fear. Now remove yourself from my sight Demon, our business here is done."

Ar'gas nodded. "Tomorrow." He said once more, as he faded back into the shadows. "She will arrive just after nightfall."

Guillame threw the wine glass at the wall where Ar'gas had been standing. "Infernal wretch!" He cursed. "Damn you back to Vessard!"

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Guillame stormed across the room and threw open the door. "You there, wench! I broke a glass come in here and clean it!"

"Right away sire." The girl bowed as she raced into the room.

Guillame then turned to a young boy who had been sitting on the floor in the corridor. "You, boy!"

The boy perked up when he heard the King's voice. "Yes M' Lord?"

"Do you know Berton Girart? The head of my royal guard."

The boy nodded. "Yes Sire."

"Go and fetch him for me. Tell him I wish to see him immediately!"

"Right away sire!" The boy bowed then hurried off to do the kings bidding.

The chambermaid had finished cleaning up the broken glass and spilled wine then exited the room as quickly as she had entered. Guillame closed the door then retreated to his desk, poured himself another glass of wine, and waited. He knew that Girart might already be in bed with a tavern wench or two but that didn't matter. Guillame had a job for him to do, and there was no time to waste. The demon Lord was becoming too damn demanding and this was something Guillame would not stand for. He had to make a stand and he had to make it soon, before the Draveil started coming down out of the mountains to claim Avimur for themselves.

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Girart wasn't sure he heard the King correctly. "A Draveil female?"

"No, she's mortal."

"Then, I'm sorry your majesty, but I don't quite understand."

Guillame was growing frustrated and impatient. He knew what he was asking was unlike any of his past orders but he thought Girart of all people would understand the importance of the task at hand. "As I understand it, the girl is the daughter of a nobleman. She had taken up with a Draveil and is carrying his child. Her father threw her out of his house and she's been hidden away in Plainvin for her own safety. Ar'gas wants her brought to the castle and placed under my protection. I gave him my word that she would be kept safe, once she arrives in Avimur, and I intend to keep my word."

Girart narrowed his eyes as he tried to comprehend what the King was asking. "But, you don't want the girl to make it to Avimur?"

"Certainly not!." Guillame stroked his beard. "The girls a harlot! A race traitor! To be the consort of a demon and living under my roof is absurd."

"But My Lord, you've given your word..."

Guillame smiled. "That's why you are going to make certain that she doesn't make it to Avimur. Take three guards and intercept the carriage before it arrives and dispatch the girl. Make it look like a robbery. Do whatever you must but I want that whore dead!"

Girart was about to protest but then thought better of it. He knew not to question his King, even when his orders seemed somewhat barbaric. He merely nodded. "It shall be done Sire. I have to wonder though, what will Ar'gas do when he discovers the girls been murdered."

"Leave that to me." Guillame told him. "I have something special planned for the fiend and his soldiers. Once it's done, no one will ever think the King of Avimur weak again."

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The black swamp was a place that no man dared venture, unless he was insane, or desperate. Even as the sun rose, illuminating the land, the black swamp remained dark, imposing, and other worldly. Guillame stopped and looked to the Paige behind him. "Hurry up boy!" He barked. "I don't wish to remain here any longer than necessary."

The boy inched closer, the look of fear evident on his young face. Even the horses seemed nervous and out of sorts. "M' Lord..." The boy stammered. "This place...it's evil. Why are we here?"

"We're here to find a witch."

"A witch?" The boy choked. "But, Sire..."

The King shot the boy a look so fierce that it shut him up and made him wonder who was to be feared more, the witch of black swamp, or the King himself.

Guillame dismounted and tied the horse to a tree. He motioned for the Paige to do the same. "Be vigilant." The King instructed. "You never know what horrors this place may reveal."

The Paige nearly fainted but managed to muster enough courage to follow the King deeper into the blackness that threatened to swallow them both.

Mold and swamp slime covered the trees and rocks. Long hanging tendrils swayed in the breeze, brushing across the men's faces. A thick fog blanketed the ground and a strong odor, like sulfur and rot, leaked up from the deep of the waters, assaulting the kings senses. He held a kerchief over his nose and mouth as he pushed his way past a curtain of brown vines. The Paige followed closely behind him, his dagger drawn, and gripped in his hand tightly. Every sound made him jump and the squishing noises as their feet tramped the soggy soil made him feel that much more uneasy.

"This place." The Paige whimpered. "It is a den of evil. Sire. I beg of you, we must return to the palace. Abandon this quest and leave the devils to their darkness."

"Be quiet, fool." Guillame gave the Paige an annoyed glance. "There are worse things to fear in this world than devils. Sometimes one must employ the lesser of two evils for good to prevail."

The Paige nodded though he was visibly shaking. He just hoped that the lesser of two evils would allow them to leave unscathed.

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Two men approached the ramshackle hut that sat partially hidden beneath the willow branches. Shadows danced about as swamp steam rose like specters from the depths of the moist ground and circled the old and rotted wood of the porch. As the hut came into view the King stopped, as did the Paige who followed. He had half expected to walk into a ritual or black mass conducted by some other worldly creature. Rumors of the black swamp told of an old hag with crab grass hair and scales, animal like claws, horns atop her head and snakes at her feet. Rumors claimed that she ate travelers who ventured into her swamp, and that she had a particular taste for young, unbaptized, children.

What Guillame saw before him though did not live up to the terrifying legends that had spread across his kingdom. The crone was not horrifying at all. Granted, the years had taken their toll on her. The youth and beauty she might have once possessed was but a scarce memory, but she was no monster. Just an old woman, and a seemingly harmless one at that.

She was sitting in a wicker rocking chair when the men approached, happily humming to herself as she attended her sewing. She was dressed in a plain black gown that was old and dusty. The cuffs of her sleeves as well as the collar of the gown were once white though now yellowed with age. She wore a think, black, knitted, shawl around her shoulders and on her head she wore a ladies hooded coif.

She looked up briefly as the men approached her but paid them little mind as she returned to her sewing.

Guillame took a hesitant step forward, cleared his voice, then spoke with as much authority as he could manage. "Mistress Niobe, I would speak with you."

"Then speak." The old woman instructed. "My ears are old but they still work."

"Mistress Niobe, I've come from the Kingdom Avimur, South of the Rune sea. My Kingdom is in distress and I seek your help in protecting the people."

"I've not the strength nor the knowledge on how to protect a Kingdom Sire, I'm but a simple woman and I live a simple life."

Guillame nodded. "I Understand this Mistress, but I've been told that you possess a poison which is fatal to the Draveil. There is a coven of such demons who have taken over a small area of land near the Erie mountains. I fear that their leader, Kerred Ar'gas, is planning to stake a claim to my throne. For the safety of my people I must stop him before his plans come to fruition."

The old woman set her sewing aside. She looked up, leaning back in her chair some and slowly rocking back and forth, considering what the King was saying. "I do have that which you seek Sire, but I must warn you, there are consequences for all our actions. Are you prepared to accept the consequences of yours?"

Guillame scoffed at the old woman. "Once Ar'gas and his warriors are gone I'll accept whatever consequences come my way. The price is worth it to rid my Kingdom of this evil, and with Ar'gas gone no more of their kind can enter our realm. Vessard will be closed off with no hope of ever opening the gates again."

The crone thought about the Kings words for the moment, then she slowly rose from her chair. "Majesty, I will give you the poison that will end any man, even the Draveil, but know that there is a price. Are you willing to pay this price?"

Guillame nodded. He snapped his fingers and the frightened Paige stepped forward with a bag of coin. "Name your price." Guillame told her.

The old woman cackled loudly as she watched the two men. "I've no need of Gold and Silver." She told them. "The price you must pay is far more valuable than that."

Guillame narrowed his eyes, growing impatient. "Then what is it that you want?" He demanded of the old hag.

She smiled, revealing her yellowed teeth. "A promise." She told him. "Eighteen years from this day I will come to you and ask a favor. You must promise to grant me that request, no matter what it is. Agree to that and I shall give you your poison."

Guillame smirked. Who the hell did this old crone think she was? Eighteen years from now he doubted she would even be alive much less remember a bargain made so long ago. "Done." The King told her. "If you come to me in Eighteen years, I will grant you what ever favor you wish. As long...as long as this poison does what it is intended to do."

"Oh it will do what you want." The old woman walked towards him with an out stretched fist. When she was mere inches away from him she opened her hand to reveal a vile of dark liquid. "Place a few drops in your enemies water supply. Anyone who drinks from the poisoned water will die a very gruesome and painful death."

"Excellent." The King grinned wickedly as he took the vile from her hand.

"Remember what I told you though My Lord. There will be consequences to your actions. The time may come when even you, oh great King Guillame, may find yourself regretting the decisions you have made."

"I highly doubt that." The King sneered. "At any rate, you have your promise and I have my poison. I thank you for your business."

"Always a pleasure to aide my King in his times of trial." The old woman bowed but her eyes were dark and sinister. Dark shadows began to engulf her and then, within moments, she was gone.

"Crazy old fool." Guillame laughed. "But at least I got what I'd come for."

He turned and began walking back the way they had come, the Paige running quickly after him, ready to be done with this place and back within the safety of the palace.

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Girart waited by the main road leading into Qedor, the small village on the outskirts of Avimur. The sun had set twenty minutes earlier. The three guards waiting behind him were growing restless. He had not told them all the details of their mission. He himself wasn't sure about what they were ordered to do. Ar'gas had helped them, and he'd saved the King's life. Of course no one besides Girart and the King himself knew of the deal made with the Demon King but still, they had become allies. Why now would King Guillame choose to betray him? And taking the life of an innocent young woman, a woman who was with child, regardless who fathered that child, seemed almost barbaric.