Dark Horizon

Chapter Four


The ruins stood high atop the hill, a dark silhouette to block out the waning moon. The long stone stairs wrapped their way around the abrupt hill slowly leading to the rough and broken walls of the once powerful fortress. Centuries had worn at the ancient stones and time had taken it's toll on the structure of the ancient castle. Set on a steep hill looking out across the northern countryside this fortress had once been the last point separating the kingdom of Draeis from the wild lands o the north.

Koracas stalked up the old stairs leading to the central keep, the lifeless body of his victim hanging limply from the claws of his right hand. Making his way toward the central courtyard of the fortress he thought on the irony of the location. It was here on this very spot that the last true military threat was defeated. Here was where the protectors had stood strong for the people of Draeis. The alliance of the northern tribes was strong and had set their sights on Draeis, the last stronghold of civilized men. It was those same civilized men who had rejected Koracas' rule, who had denied him his throne and usurped his power. Now upon the same hill where Draeis' future was assured, it would once again be called into question.

The air cringed as Koracas ran his deadly talons across the rough stone of the keeps hallway. bits of rock and dust flew along with sparks from the fingers of the Q'ad. Deep scratches maked the wall of this keep, fresh over those from battles long past. The old walls had held this testament to the violence of the past. A new chapter of violence was about to begin.

Making his way out of the halls and into the central courtyard, Koracas trudged toward the object of his attention. There in the center of the fortress was a well. In the ancient days it had been the assurance of survival in a long siege; a gaping hole which at one time had held the hope of Draeis in its watery depths. If the well had gone dry, the soldiers would die, the armies of the north advance on the city of Draeis, all would be lost. But the well did not go dry and the soldiers of Draeis had held their ground against the advancing horde.

Looking down into the depths Koracas chuckled to himself. Echoes of his own course laughter came ricocheting back up from the dark water below. This is where it would begin, the rebels had taken him and thrown him out, they had turned against the order of things. For thousands of years the men of Draeis had served and honored the Q'ad, the protectors of Draeis. Against him they had turned, subverting all the land against him and his ancestors. They had overthrown order in hopes of creating their own and now Koracas would overthrow their order and leave them to wallow in the chaos.

Koracas lifted the mutilated body of the deceased farmer out above the gaping mouth of the well. Now it begins. Koracas lifted his eyes to the moon and held the body still. Waiting as if for a signal the silence of the night crept in and seemed to surround this unholy scene. Out of the silence Koracas lifted his rotted voice.

"Have you comfort? Quake in fear.
Have you peace? See the terrors.
Have you Joy? Meet with sorrow.
Hope for Despair
Curses for Prayer
Life and death divide"

The body hung for a moment as the curse echoed around the walls of the castle. Then it fell. Down into the depth limp and lifeless it tumbled. Koracas knew this was the moment. All would be reversed as death plunged in and corrupted that which had been life to so many. Senseless killing and the protection of innocents meeting and melting together. The blood of chaos and the water of order mixing together to confuse the fates and turn the world against itself.

As the body hit the surface of the water a shrieking hiss shot from the depths. A blast of wind came shooting up from the earth below. Koracas leaned into the jet of air and let the stench of death rising from the well fill his decayed nostrils. Stones tumbled from the already time worn walls and parapets of the ancient keep as the rumbling from deep in the earth shook its foundations. Water deep in the well twisted and foamed, stirred by the earth violent shaking. Koracas could see it now, writhing back and forth against the stones that had held it for so long.

Finally Koracas grinned, the object of his pleasure the writhing water below. It was now clear that there was more deep in the well then the water and the body that Koracas had tossed in. Now the water was thrashing and twisting like a living liquid. His ears tingled as a new sound reached his ears. A deep hum, oscillating in time with his own decayed heart's beats.

Koracas stood back from the well and watched a dark cloud emerge. The pulsing drone disturbing the silence of the night was like a drug to him. As he stared into the dark cloud he could make out the creatures that formed it. The wings of the countless creatures beat in unison. Koracas held out his hand in invitation; he wanted to examine this creation of his.

Several of the creatures broke off from the cloud and flew to Koracas' outstretched hand. Hovering just above his open palm, the creatures resembled maggots both in their physical structure and in the way that they flew, which can only be described as writhing through the air. Their chaotic dips and swerves seemed entirely averse to flight, yet to see the swarm writhe together gave the horde of insects a distinct illusion of being one sentient apparition.

Suddenly the swarm convulsed, each individual creature dipping a few inches before recovering and returning to their flight. Again their wings stopped for a moment and they dropped only to return to their place in the swarm. Faster now, over and over again the wings would stop, leaving silence for a moment and then the creatures would begin their chaotic flight once more. Pounding around the keep the sound of the wings stopping fell into a steady beat. Each beat a bit louder than the first. The creatures surrounded the open well and began a rythmic, spinning dance around it.

Koracas swatted the few lone maggots away from his hand to watch the twisting, pulsing mass of creatures that he had made. Suddenly his eyes were pulled toward the open mouth of the well. A hand. Up from the well an arm came clawing its way over the stone edge of the hole. This arm was followed by another. Finally climbing out, Turun, the dead farmer shook himself like a wet dog, spewing blood and water across the courtyard.

Although the body was that of Turun the farmer, his spirit had long since departed. His flesh crawled with the flying maggots. They clung to his wounds and filled the hole where Koracas had torn open the mans chest. As he walked toward Koracas some of the maggots would fall from his body, but still others landed to take their place. The dark column of creatures followed him as he made his way toward the dark figure of Koracas.

He stopped before Koracas, and stood in silence for a moment. A sound ushered from his throat and what could be heard was clearly words. But the sound could not be described as a voice. Each word and sylable seemed to be created from the beating wings of the creatures surrounding him. Part hiss, part rattle, his mouth moved but his words came from the swarm.

"I am Swarm, what do you command?"