CHAPTER ONE

Chapter One

Autumn 81, 1536

Thunder reverberated throughout the clouds overhead and lightning crackled above. Paladin Mendor Gismack didn’t stop to look at the sky as it cried dark rain, the tears hitting his face and trailing down his cheeks, hiding the reality of his panic. All he could think to do was sprint across the usually bronze fields that stretched for several miles between the Paladin Order’s HQ and the ritual circle. His mind couldn’t focus on anything other than the message sent out on the radio that now lay in shattered pieces on the floor of the communications office. Despite better judgement and against orders, he had abandoned his post and had run almost blindly into the night. Over fences and through the fields he persevered, until he could see the small burial mound and the stone circle upon it. A flash of lightning illuminated the scene on top of the hill.

            Several people he recognised stood on the hill’s apex, although one of them was severely changed from the last time Mendor had sighted him. He clambered up the mound to see the scene more closely. He instantly regretted doing so.

There were bodies strewn across the clearing, all killed in the same manner- a thin slit across the throat. Most were nailed into their place in the dirt by chunks of metal, and there were signs of many struggles before sacrifice and slaughter took place. At least twenty-five lives had been lost in the past few hours. Mendor checked the faces of those still living. Among those still breathing were his father and sister, as well as two of the Paladin Sages- Heath Silver and Ben Akka. Max Phantom lay dead in the circle. The final Sage wasn’t dead, although he wasn’t quite alive either. He was flanked by three adolescents, two male, one female, all wearing masks, but from the weapons they held, Mendor knew who they were instantly.

‘Leo!’ Mendor yelled, his voice cracking and cutting the night. ‘What are you doing!?’ He drew closer to his old friend. ‘Leo Valerian,’ he said slowly, his body trembling. ‘This is a joke,’ he said, fighting fear and denying instinct.

Leonard Valerian bore triangular markings on his face, shaped straight and thin, like whiskers painted in red. Symbols drawn in the blood of many humans coated his bare chest, along with runes from a language thought to be long dead.

Upon hearing no answer, Mendor pleaded with those beside his friend. ‘Orriko!’ he called. ‘Luci! Tiro! This is a prank, right?’

The three of them were motionless, and Mendor noticed several demonic markings on their masks. ‘Sorry, Mendor,’ Tiro said, his voice serious and firm. ‘This isn’t a joke.’ He removed his mask to reveal his face, once thin and handsome, was now covered in dark markings. His ears were pointed and there was blood on his lips.

Leonard turned an eye to each of his followers. ‘You three,’ he said assertively. ‘You should get going. I’ll see you on the other side.’

The trio nodded, and their bodies seemed to shimmer, before disappearing entirely.

‘Time to go,’ Leonard said sombrely. 

Mendor’s sister grabbed at his coat. ‘Get away you idiot!’ she yelled, pulling him away as their treacherous ally took a silent swipe at him with inhuman claw-like hands. She dragged him back behind the older Paladins. ‘What the hell are you doing here!?’ she shouted, the wind threatening to carry her sentence away.

‘I was working the radio and I heard-’

‘You idiot!’ she repeated at him again. She threw him to the ground. ‘Stay here.’

‘I’m not a kid,’ he retorted angrily.

‘You acted like one.’ His sister muttered an incantation and a small jewel set into the ring on one of her right fingers dissolved and reformed as a tiny spear, which expanded into a seven foot golden-coloured glaive. ‘Leo is a demon now. He sacrificed everyone here and drank their blood. The sign on his chest is that of the Cult of Valafar. The two-headed ram.’

‘Caelia…’ Mendor whispered his sister’s name, but the wind stole his words. ‘Don’t kill him!’ he cried, almost hysterically. ‘It’s a mistake, it has to be!’ He tried to wipe his face clean of tears and rain with his jacket sleeve but it only made his pale cheeks wetter. His black hair was leaking cheap shaping gel as it flopped over his stone grey eyes.

‘He killed Aitor,’ Caelia said calmly. ‘Stay back; I don’t want to lose another brother.’

Mendor peaked through the legs of the remaining Sages to see what was happening. 

‘It was brave of you to come,’ Leonard said, smirking. ‘Brave and stupid.’ When there was no movement or reaction, he continued. ‘Here for vengeance, Chief Paladin Gannovich Lesk?’ he asked rhetorically. He kicked the head of one of the corpses. ‘Poor misguided Aitor,’ he said. ‘You should have taught your son better.’ He looked at Caelia. ‘Shame you’ll be losing your daughter too. And Mendor’s here as well! All we need is Talathin and we’ll have a proper family reunion.’ He smiled and waved his right hand. A ring on his forefinger glowed, and the thin black band dissolved into shadow and reformed in his hand as a seven foot high spear. The blade was black and serrated, and sparkled as rain glossed over the unclassifiable metal. He fiddled with the wooden shaft and twirled the weapon in his hands casually.

‘You won’t harm Caelia or Mendor,’ The Chief Paladin said firmly. His weapon was a huge longsword, serrated on one side. 

‘Get ready, Leonard,’ Sage Heath Silver said bitterly. ‘Yours is the only other death this night will see.’ He vanished, or at least it appeared so. Moving at the speed of light, the Lightning Mage grabbed Leonard’s face with his massive hands. He snatched the spear from his grasp and threw it to the floor, where it dissolved and reformed as a ring once more. ‘You’re finished.’ He cast a paralysis curse on the demon’s body.  

Leonard couldn’t move as Gannovich ran at him at an unrealistic speed. In an instance, the Paladin launched himself at his foe, his hands becoming talons which tore at the demon’s chest where his heart was. Heath moved out of the way at the speed of light and appeared beside Caelia as Mendor got to his feet in anger. He had trusted Leonard, and he had killed so many of his comrades in cold blood, including Mendor’s own brother. Aitor Lesk’s empty eyes stared at Mendor, and his fury mounted.

Gannovich sank his clawed fingers into the demon’s flesh, intending to strike at his vital organs. ‘Heartstealer,’ the tall man whispered as he wrapped his hand around the demon’s heart. At least he thought he had. In an instant, the paralysis spell stopping Leonard broke, and he used his own talons to tear a hole in the Chief Paladin’s body. He tossed him to the ground, but Gannovich showed his power and resilience by getting to his feet.

Enraged, Mendor ran at his old friend, roaring. He conjured his own weapon- a pair of short katanas- and attacked. Calmly, Leonard grabbed his attacker by the arm and ripped it clean out of its socket. Screaming in shock and horror, Mendor’s thoughts scrambled, and it was only the lightning fast speed of his sister that saved him from being torn apart. The young Paladin with shoulder-length auburn hair pushed her comrade into the arms of Heath Silver and dashed to her father’s side to act as support. Both Light Mages knew that, even combined, they could never hope to defeat Leonard.

‘Stand your ground,’ Gannovich said, his baptism mark representing determination flaring brightly on his brow.

Caelia nodded in acknowledgement, her mark representing courage shining as her magical pressure heightened.

Mendor could do nothing except fall and bleed as he watched his father dive at the demon once more, only to be skewered through the chest by Leonard’s spear. Satisfied, he advanced on Caelia, who motioned to defend her comrades. Leonard sank his spear into the right side of her chest, through her lung, fully impaling her. But she didn’t fall limp and dead. Salvaging the last of her power, she stabbed the demon in the heart, putting all of her magic into a single spell that banished the creature that had once been human into the Underworld. The spear in her side vanished, and the few remaining Paladins rushed over to her.

Mendor crawled through the mud and his own blood towards his sister. ‘Don’t die,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t die, don’t… please…’

He couldn’t hear Caelia’s response through the wind and the shutting down of his own senses. ‘Live,’ he muttered, ‘please, please, please live…’ his voice trailed off and he could only hear the wind rush in his ears and feel the blood on his body.

 

Summer 21, 1545

            ‘Nightmare?’ a female voice said from the other side of the tent.

            Mendor looked around. He was sitting up, with sweat on his brow and tears on his face. ‘Something like that,’ he said. He clenched his metal fist. ‘More like a memory.’ He strained his brain as the dream faded away. ‘I’m not sure I can remember.’ He looked over at the tent’s other occupant- a pretty woman in her late twenties, with shoulder-length auburn hair and dark, sceptical eyes. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Caelia,’ he said to his sister. He lay back down and turned his back on her.

            ‘I’ve decided to go to Aiton,’ Caelia said. ‘I won’t be going all the way to Timerdias with you.’

            ‘In other words, I’m bringing back Kerry alone,’ Mendor said, a slight bitterness in his voice.

            ‘What kind of knight wants his big sister there when he rescues his princess?’ Caelia said, smiling. ‘Anyway, I have business with Talathin.’

            ‘That a*****e? You seriously want to speak to him?’

            ‘That “a*****e” is our brother.’

            ‘There’s no blood between him and me, I won’t call him brother.’

            ‘There’s no blood between us and you call me sister,’ Caelia said stiffly. ‘You call Aitor brother- how is Talathin any different?’

            ‘Aitor was a kind, caring brother- Talathin is a pretentious traitor.’

            ‘He’s not a traitor,’ Caelia said. ‘He just left after Dad was killed.’

            ‘He ran away,’ Mendor said angrily. ‘Look, just drop it. You know how I feel, don’t try to defend him. My opinion is fixed.’

            They were quiet for a moment as Caelia settled back down to catch a few hours’ sleep. ‘The Night of Blood,’ she said quietly, after a short silence.

            ‘What about it?’ Mendor asked irritably.

            ‘You dreamt about it, didn’t you?’

            ‘Yeah. So what?’

            ‘Just… don’t dwell on it. The time will come.’ 

Reviews

[Jason]

Overall I would say that I enjoyed reading this. However with so many names thrown around and so many magical elements at play I feel as though I missed many chapters before this. It was kind of confusing with so many names, that obviously wont matter later as they-re dead and the story doesn't seem to go back in time. I feel as though this chapter might benefit from a prologue or just a little more world building. Keep it up!

[Kat Mandu]

I've been criticised before about having too much exposition- I think I need to find an in-between sort of way to write. I promise it all makes sense later! Thanks alot for the review :D