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2020-11-04
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Dark Ending

Summary:

Note; okay, this was the first section of a story I wrote at about the same time as Reunion. This is how it was seven years ago. I decided to start re-writing that story in segments, so that it would seem like a smaller job.
Kindly note that all characters are original, and are therefore mine.

Work Text:

Dark Ending
by Lucinda

 

Damien was riding in the forest, reveling in the night breeze, and the rare moment of privacy. He had slipped out with his raven, Xraxx, seeking escape from the burden of his responsibilities, just for a little bit. Passing through the back halls of the castle, he had gone to the stable area, where the dark shape of Night Runner had pressed against the rails of his paddock, his eyes almost reflecting in the darkness, made little noises of curiosity and impatience. Damien was one of a scant handful of people that would have anything to do with the beast.

The big black war-steed was universally feared and hated by the stable hands because of his vile temperament and habit of biting anything that moved, with a seeming fondness for the taste of man. Night Runner had eagerly came forwards, obviously impatient to get out and do something, anything. Damien had chuckled, and saddled the beast up, reminded of his own desire for a bit of time away from everything.

He had been reminded of his own urge to escape the cloying perfumes and calculating advances of a few of the more ruthless court ladies. He was married, and deliriously in love with his wife Jocelyn, and had no intention of accepting any of the invitations of the court butterflies. Jocelyn had gone to visit her sister, who was due to deliver her first child soon, and he missed her greatly. Tonight, he just wanted to escape court and his responsibilities as Lord Ravenswing as well. His mother, the Lady Rachel, could orchestrate the court in his absence; it would keep her occupied and prevent her from asking if there were any signs that he and Jocelyn would have a child.

A night ride through the forest had sounded like the perfect way to relax. They passed through the forest with astonishing quiet for a beast of Night Runner's size. Damien knew that nobody else would exercise Runner, so he decided to give the horse a workout. Xraxx flew overhead, a dark shape in the sky. They were going through the trees, weaving in and out, jumping streams and fallen trees with a light heart that was rare in Damien since his father's death a year ago. For the moment, he was only Damien, unfettered by his responsibilities, or his reputation, and his only care was for Runner's safety over the fallen trees. He could feel the tension leaving his body, his muscles relaxing, and his spirits lifting. What was there to interfere with his stolen moments of enjoyment?

As Damien was trying to decide what to do next, he felt something wrong in the castle. Somehow, it was as if everyone's minds had been silenced, leaving only an echoing hollow within the walls. Had his gift for sensing other's feelings vanished? If his ability to feel the emotions of others had disappeared, he would be unable to sense the villagers in Raven's View. With but a moments thought, he checked or their presence. He could still feel their presence; therefore, something was interfering with those at the castle. Damien had never heard of anything that could do that, but he intended to find out. A vague feeling of unease settled over him, as if something was attempting to warn him of danger. The air felt colder, dead and still, and there was no sound, no drone of insects, no noises from small frogs or night birds.

Tensely, he turned Runner towards the castle, knowing only that somehow, his responsibilities demanded that he find some way to fix whatever had gone wrong. They raced through the forest, Damien cursing at the branches that seemed to reach after him, as if trying to hold him back, to keep him from Raven's Hold. They twisted through the woods, leaping streams and fallen trees, finally breaking out of the forest before the castle. Nestled into the mountains like a hidden jewel, the gleaming smooth wall rose up, a barrier to any who would seek entry, showing only the rising towers that lifted towards the sky. The closed gates swung open at his approach, revealing the castle itself, a sight fit to inspire awe in even the most hardened of hearts.

Night Runner's hooves thundered up the inner road, echoing ominously in the unnatural silence. The castle wasn't supposed to be silent, not with a court banquet tonight. The dancing and socializing from those usually lasted well beyond midnight, and there were still almost two hours until then. Even if the court banquet hadn't been tonight, his brother Remington and his family were there. That included Alexander, Remington's son, as obnoxiously spoiled as it was humanly possible to be. Privately, Damien had always thought Alexander was so spoiled because he was thus given almost anything that he wanted to prevent his father from having to deal with him.

He dismounted his horse and entered the castle. There had to be some clue what had happened. Why was there no music, no muted murmur of conversation? Not only was his home silent, it was dark. All the candles had been extinguished, and they were cold, as if they'd been out for some time. He plucked one from the wall, and tried to light it. Despite his best efforts, the candle refused to light. It was almost as if the wick swallowed the spark that was supposed to light it, consuming the fire instead of the fire consuming the candle.

"Damien." He thought he heard a woman's voice call his name. He thought the voice sounded familiar, wasn't that the daughter of that French cloth merchant? The one that had shown an interest in playing chess? "Someone, please help me." The voice died away to nothing, but he was convinced that it had originated below, in the cellars.

That voice did sound, even though he could think of nobody that should be calling for him by name. He headed towards the cellar; not even thinking to wonder why he could hear someone was calling his name when the rest of the castle was echoing with silence. The stairs to the cellar weren't lit; he had to go down them slowly, one hand trailing along the smooth, cold stone of the wall. Despite the sound of urgency the voice had carried, Damien walked carefully down the stairs. He went as quickly as he dared, although that wasn't terribly fast. He couldn't see, and did no wish to fall headlong down the stairs, possibly breaking his bones against a wall or the floor.

The descent into the bowels of the castle seemed to stretch on for hours, his skin prickling in the slight chill in the air, which seemed to cling to him, murkily thickening around him, slowing his passage even further. He could feel the occasional spider web brushing across his face, a tiny, thread of contact that made him wish that he were once more outside, under the open sky. The fact that the candle had refused to light meant that he was descending in darkness, making everything seem slower and more harrowing. At the bottom, he slowly walked along the wall, leaving his hand trailing along the stone, seeking the wooden door by touch. It was disturbing that down here, the stone felt damp, almost slimy beneath his fingers, and there was an odd smell in the air, something damp and almost rotten.

There shouldn't be anything rotting inside his castle. This strange stench must be another indication that something foul was going on here tonight. Damien carefully opened the door, slipping into the cellar, trying to figure out where the frightened girl could be held.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him, the sharp bang of it's closing echoing like thunder through the cellar, and the room exploded into painful light. The light was a sullen, sulfurous yellow, and stung his eyes. When his eyes adjusted to the light, his heart sank. He had walked into a trap; a trap set by dark magic and evil trickery. The edges of the room were filled with disturbingly twisted forms, vaguely resembling humans, but clearly something else. They seemed to shift, the edges rippling and moving if he looked at any single shape. Those shifting things were the source of the foul scent, and their flesh seemed to be an unwholesome looking greenish-gray.

In the center of the room, laughing at him, stood, well, Damien wasn't quite certain what it was that stood in the center of his cellar. Its attitude was like some terrible lord holding court, arrogant and convinced of its power over everything that it surveyed. The being was about thirteen feet tall, covered with dull, dark green triangular scales that absorbed the sulfurous light; wearing sleeveless black robes with symbols the color of dried blood writhing along the borders. The being had large eyes that glowed with the same malevolent, sulfurous, yellow light that filled the cellar, and laughed at him, displaying a mouth of needle- sharp ivory fangs. A crest of sharp looking spines ran from between the creature's eyes over the skull, and probably continued down its entire spine. Large bat-like wings were furled behind the creature, moving slightly in unconcealed mockery of all that surrounded him.

For the first time in several years, Damien was truly afraid, his heart frantically clenched in his chest, as if struggling to beat. He tried to ask who this being was, and what it wanted, but he was unable to find the words, and his throat was so dry and tight that he wasn't entirely certain he would have been able to say anything anyhow.

"You do well to be afraid, foolish mortal. I am Grazhaim the magnificent, although you will soon be calling me" here the creature paused, as if for dramatic effect, "Master. How fitting that you shall be the instrument of Rachel's downfall." The creature growled his mother's name, as if she had somehow personally offended him. "I shall find it amusing to see her destroyed by her own offspring!"

That was too much for Damien's volatile temper. He launched himself at this creature, intending to pummel the monster into silence. Grazhaim laughed, and casually swatted Damien, sending him crashing into the solid stone of the wall. The impact crushed several of the minions, intensifying their foul reek, and sending foul liquids over Damien, and the wall, oozing down over the floor as well. Damien was too enraged to notice, and flung himself at the beast again. This time, Grazhaim grabbed Damien by the front of his shirt, effortlessly holding him in the air. At this close range, Damien could feel heat radiating from Grazhaim, and the sulfurous stench that surrounded the creature made his stomach heave and churn.

He snarled several words, sharp edged words that hissed in the air and hurt to hear, as if they sent pain across the distance. His breath carried a foul reek; reminiscent of the one time he had seen a captive bear. The expression of evil anticipation and the hissing words filled Damien with a terrible sense of foreboding. There was a sound like distant thunder, and a harsh, grating sound from somewhere close by, a noise that sent chills down Damien's spine. The noise also panicked the writhing things along the walls, sending them into loud, incoherent shrieks that echoed in the chamber. Below Damien, the ground split open, impenetrable blackness gaping beneath the monstrous thing, and an unsettling smell, like copper and sulfur and heat rose from the depths. Grazhaim laughed, an evil sounding rumble, a sound that promised great agony and misery, and casually flung Damien into the pit...

 

end