A Kingdom Falls (The Mancer Trilogy Book 1) (5 page)

However, it was the centrepiece that grabbed William’s attention.  There, in the very centre of the courtyard, was his spy, the Dev’ver Black Fear, on his back, his arms out wide, stakes driven through the palms of his hands.  Another much larger stake had been driven through his groin, and upon that stake, a naked Lady Farah Sharpe had been impaled.

William walked over to the grisly sight.  The stake had exited through the back of the neck of Farah, leaving her face untouched, and on that face was a smile of pure joy.  William cast his eyes down to Black Fear who met his gaze with pain-filled eyes.

“
Who
?” demanded William, speaking straight into the mind of Black Fear.

“
PAIN
!” screamed Black Fear, directly into William’s mind.  William instantly cut the link.  Grabbing the stake that Lady Sharpe was attached to with his one good hand, William tried to pull it free.  It barely moved.  Letting out a cry of frustration, William contemplated calling in more Dev’ver to assist, but instantly thought better of it.  This was not a clean kill.  This was very intentional. This was a direct message to him.

Very deliberately, William transformed into Shadow Killer.  As the cries of pain became howls of triumph, Shadow Killer looked down at the crippled Black Fear and thrust his clawed hand into Black Fear’s chest, ripping out the creature’s heart and dropping it on the floor.  Moments later, what looked like smoke drifted out of the heart and into the compacted ground.

Shadow Killer prowled round the remains of the estate.  All was in a state of destruction.  Every person was dead and were either heavily mutilated, or their faces showed nothing but pleasure, regardless of the amount of pain they must have suffered before death.

Making his way out of the large garden at the back of the house and back into the cool of the building, Shadow Killer heard voices.  Quickly and quietly, he made his way towards them.

***

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!” a heavily built man said as he slowly turned full circle in the courtyard.

“Nev, how could anyone...” said another man as he stared in disbelief at the sight before him.  A third person, a boy of about eleven, was on his knees, throwing up.

“Shit!” Nev suddenly stated.

“What?”

“Maggie, Ron.”

Ron’s eyes suddenly showed understanding.  “Shit, Nev, you’re right; she cannot be allowed to see this.”

“Go and stop her, Ron,” stated Nev. “I’ll get poor Paul and drag him out of here.”  Ron nodded and ran for the gate.

Nev moved towards the boy.  “Come on, Paul.  Stand up and I’ll lead you out.”  Paul staggered to his feet, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, and allowed himself to be led away.

***

Shadow Killer watched them leave from his hiding spot, before turning and making his way to the garden.  Once there, he opened a shadow-door and was just about to step through, when something caught his eye.  The tall bushes to his right had been damaged, branches broken and flattened.  They were covering a wall and Shadow Killer’s keen eyes could see something red on the wall.

Letting the shadow-door dissipate, Shadow Killer moved to the bushes and brushed them aside to reveal a message written in blood on the stone wall.

He Cometh
... Again!

A low growl escaped from Shadow Killer’s muzzle and his clawed hand lashed out, cutting with ease through the stone and causing five lines to be torn through the words.  Shadow Killer turned and walked quickly across the grass.  Opening a shadow-door, he did not break step as he entered and vanished.

***

It was late afternoon and Queen Rebecca Rothgal was deep in conversation with her chamberlain, when the door to the room they were in opened abruptly and in walked William.  “We need to talk.”

Rebecca took one look at her bodyguard and immediately realised that something serious had happened.  “Master Chamberlain, if you would be so good as to excuse us?”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

William stepped to one side allowing the chamberlain room to exit.  “Master William,” said the chamberlain with a slight bow of his head as he left the room.

“Master Chamberlain,” replied William.

As the door closed behind the chamberlain, Rebecca asked, “What is it?”

“He is coming back.”

“Who is coming back?”

“The Midnight Man.”

“Are you sure?” asked an ashen Rebecca.

“Yes.  The Midnight Man,
He cometh again into the world of men
.”

In the weak twilight, Alicia Saunt made her way through the still busy streets of the great city of Mon-Li towards a solid, square, and compact building.  As she walked, people made way for her, or, more precisely, they made way for the red robe she was wearing: a red robe with an emblem of the Red Bank – a gold circle within a black square, and within the gold circle, a red teardrop sewn over the heart.  A fine golden belt brought the fine robe in at the hips, giving a tantalising hint of her curvaceous figure.

What a difference twenty-odd years had made to the city and to her.  In those years, the small town of Mon-Li, which sat on the river Li in the land of the Red Coast, had become a very rich, powerful, and successful city.  She had gone from being a plain boring merchant’s daughter to an agent of the Red Bank.

A playful smile danced on her full lips at the thought of the Red Bank and its power.  The Red Bank had saved the Red Coast in its direst times and, in doing so, had changed everything; it had stepped in to save the country after the disastrous campaign against the Twin Kingdoms.

The full details were unknown to her, but from what she had been told, out of nowhere, a charismatic young man by the name of Sica Lang had managed to unite the free tribes and the pirate bands of the Red Coast and named himself Warlord.

When he declared that he was going to invade the weak and corrupt Twin Kingdoms, nearly all the young men of fighting age in the Red Coast had decided to follow the Warlord as he swept through his own country demanding food and support from the local towns and villages, leaving behind nothing but the old, the infirm, the women, and their babies.

It was said that, at dawn, just as the sun was rising, Warlord Sica Lang led his Horde over the border into the Twin Kingdoms.  The newly born red sun sent its crimson rays to glint off the massed swords and axes, making them look like they were covered in blood.  The roar of the men as they rode or jogged across the border was said to be heard a hundred miles away.

Alicia wondered if they would have gone so eagerly if they had known that less than a quarter of them would be still alive within a single months’ time.

By this time, Alicia had arrived at the heavy wooden portals that barred entry into the Red Bank.  She rapped twice on the wooden door, using the iron doorknocker, and waited.  After a few moments, the door glided open a few inches and a man’s voice asked, “Who wishes to gain entry into the Bank at this time?”

“Alicia Saunt, Agent of the Red Bank.”

“Enter, Alicia Saunt,” said the voice as the door opened wider.

Alicia walked into the partially lit entrance hall and turned to face the doorkeeper.  “Good evening, Brother Ony.”

“Good evening, Sister Saunt,” replied Ony, as he closed and bolted the Bank’s heavy door.

“
He cometh
…” said Alicia.

“
Praise the day
...” intoned Brother Ony.

Alicia bowed her head before turning and making her way to a heavily carved door, which stood in the far right corner of the chamber.  Opening the door, Alicia walked through and entered a short dimly lit corridor, which ended in another heavily carved door.  Closing the door behind her, Alicia made her way to this new door, which opened into a surprisingly well-lit medium-sized square room with a comfortable sofa down one side, next to which stood a half-full bookcase.  Alicia sat down, adjusting her robe to make herself feel comfortable.

Whilst she waited, she continued to muse on Warlord Sica Lang’s Horde.  Within hours, the Horde had come across a slow moving wagon train, containing twenty-five women of the Church and their guards.  The guards were killed and the women repeatedly raped.  Warlord Lang had declared that this was a sign from the gods that the Horde was on its way to glory and riches.  Little did he know that already his men were dying.

Alicia uncrossed and recrossed her legs, straightening her robe before examining the fingernails of her left hand.

Unknown to the Horde, the women were, in fact, the most extreme sexual masochists from amongst the Brethren of the Night ranks, their bodies close to being broken from the most deprived sexual acts, and filled with pox and disease, whilst the guards were from the most fanatical and loyal of the Brethren ranks.

After being raped again, the women had waited until the early hours, when most of the Horde were asleep, before freeing themselves and setting about their own grisly work – slashing throats, plunging stolen knifes and swords into the groins of men, poisoning water and food supplies, and setting fire to tents in which warriors slept.

As the last woman was hacked down, a sound like thunder was heard, as out of the dark came twelve wagons hurtling towards the camp, pulled by drug-crazed horses.  Each wagon contained barrels of oil, tinder, and lit torches.  As the wagons crashed into the chaos-filled camp, they overturned, causing the weakened barrels to smash apart and spray the highly flammable oil across man, beast, tent, and ground.  It was a scene of total horror as the flames leapt high into the pitch-dark night.  Men and beasts screamed whilst they burned alive.

When morning came, a sober and dark mood was upon the camp.  In an attempt to improve morale and give his remaining men a quick victory, Warlord Lang pushed his men hard to reach the town of Greenville, which was a two-day hard march away.  However, when they had got there, the town was empty.

Alicia placed her hands on her lap, leaned her head against the wall, and smiled as she continued to recall the history lesson the Brethren had taught her.

It was in Greenville that more of the Horde died or became ill.  They died from the poisoned water that the Brethren had left in the town.  They died from sneak attacks and ambushes by the Brethren.  They fell ill to the diseases that they had caught from the women and from the supplies they had tarnished.  It was then the desertions started.

As the Horde made its way towards the next town of Malton, it discovered what the Brethren of the Night had done with the deserters they had caught.

Their bodies were staked out along the road.  Some were hideously mutilated.  Other’s still smouldered from where they had been burned; however, it was the ones that were still alive that caused the most damage to morale.  It took the strongest willed amongst the Horde to put their former comrades out of their pain.

Fear started to seep into those among the Horde that were sick, wounded, delirious, full of the pox, or bone-tired due to the lack of sleep.  This fear was at its strongest during the dark midnight hour, when it was said that a man, a dark man, a Midnight Man would prowl the frightened men’s dreams, whispering terrible words into their ears, causing them to start killing themselves rather than be left behind and caught by the Brethren of the Night.

Warlord Sica Lang promised his men that when they got to the town of Malton, they would rest and recover from their wounds.  Then, when healed, they would track down and destroy the Brethren of the Night.  It was five long days of constant harassment before the weary and demoralised Horde finally made it to Malton and met the Brethren of the Night on the field of battle.

It was late afternoon and, five miles outside the town of Malton, just over seven hundred Brethren stood in a battleline awaiting the Horde, whilst skirmishers harassed and teased Lang’s battered army.

Finally, seeing their enemy before them, Sica Lang’s men surged forward, eager to extract revenge on their torturers.  Warlord Lang, fearing a trap, tried to halt his men, but the anger and desire for revenge was too strong and the Horde ignored him.  Onwards the Horde rushed, only to be met with pits lined with poisoned stakes, trip holes to trap and break horses’ legs, and shallow pits filled with tar and oil.

Just as the most ferocious of the Horde were about to reach the Brethren’s lines, arrows of fire soared from the Brethren’s ranks, striking and killing many, as well as setting fire to the pits of tar and oil.  A huge wall of fire now split the Horde in two.

The Brethren had learned their lessons from the Battle of Yeris and the skirmishes before it.  In the past, they had entered battle lightly armoured and frenzied.  The pain, the excitement, the adrenaline rush had been wonderful, truly magnificent, but so had been the casualties.

Now the Brethren fought with cunning, planning, and with experience.  They still had those members who would throw themselves into battle in a frenzy, eager to kill or be killed, but they also now had skirmishers to perform acts of fear and terror on the enemy.  They had the heavily armoured and armed Night
Guard
who could stand toe-to-toe with the best an enemy could field.  They had the rank and file warriors who could hold the line or fire arrows into the advancing enemy.

However, they also had the elite Midnight
Guard (a shiver of fear and sexual excitement rippled through Alicia).  The Midnight Guard were a company of heavy cavalry mounted on the most vicious jet-black horses.  Each member of the Midnight Guard could endure levels of pain far beyond any normal cultist.  Their skill with sword, axe, and lance was unrivalled.  Before battle, they would imbibe potions that would heighten their reactions, increase their resistance to pain to even greater levels, and raise their endurance to super-human levels.

And it was the Midnight Guard that had thundered to the rear of the Horde, and, supported by skirmishers, had broken Warlord Lang’s army.

Feeling the air change, Alicia opened her eyes and stood up, just as the shadow-door opened.

***

A meeting room in the city of Deep Lake

“The Red Bank is a valued friend to her Majesty and the Twin Kingdoms,” stated Rab Cregg as he passed a glass of wine to the red-robed woman who stood opposite him.

“And her Majesty and the Twin Kingdoms are a valued customer,” replied Tania Stone.

“We thank the Red Bank for the generous loan and terms they have given the kingdom.”

“It is good that the last five hours of negotiation has been productive,” said Tania as she made her way to Rab and brushed the back of her hand against his.  Looking him in the eye, she gave him a mysterious smile.  “Your ability to help us set up branches here and in Yeris certainly helped sway a positive outcome for your request to increase your loan.”

Rab cleared his throat.  “We would be more than happy to have one of your branches here and in Yeris.”

“They say you are a powerful man.”

Rab smiled.  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Tania raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“However, in this case, you are correct.  I can ease the way for your Bank to be built in both cities and help with any problems with the Merchant’s Guild.”

“Good.”  Tania Stone took a sip of wine from her glass, then turned and walked towards a comfortable chair and sat down.  Rab took a moment to admire Tania’s figure as she walked away, before following and sitting down in a chair opposite her.

“You are married?” asked Tania.

“Happily,” replied Rab.

“Children?”

“Two.”

“You must be proud of them.”

“I am,” smiled Rab.

“How about your parents?  They must be proud.”

A brief flicker of annoyance appeared on Rab’s face.  “My mother is dead and I have not seen my father for a long time.  He lives in Yeris.”

“Maybe you will see him, when we go to view the land the Bank will be built on.”

“Maybe,” said Rab in a non-committal way.

“I do apologise, Master Cregg.  I had no wish to upset you.”

“It’s ok,” waved away Rab.  “It is of little importance.”  Rab took a hasty drink from his glass.  “Anyway, tell me a bit more about yourself and the Red Bank.  I have always been fascinated by how the Bank was created.”

Tania laughter lightly.  “I thought everyone knew that the Red Bank was founded on pirate treasure and the blood of men.”

“I had heard rumour, but… Ah, you are tricking me, Tania.”  Rab shook his head, slowly.

“In every rumour, there is a spark of truth, Rab,” Tania said.

“So what is the spark of truth in this rumour?”

Tania looked out the window at the darkening night.  “Tell you what, pour me another glass and I will tell you a spark of truth very few people know.”

“Fair exchange is no robbery,” stated Rab, as he placed his own glass on a small table next to his chair before moving to take Tania’s glass.