Their Hunt - Chapter One

Chapter One: Storm



Rain pounded the rocks and streamed down the cliff face like ancient tears, rivulets pooling at the bottom and pouring into the sea below. Veins of blue lightning cracked the wall of black sky, revealing deep grey clouds enveloped in its dark projection. The stars were long gone and the sun buried. The phantom sky resonated emotion. Emotions of hate, seething with rage and agony, laced by pain and writhing regret.
The projected darkness the featureless horizon emitted, plagued the land beneath its stony glare. Crops withered and died among the plains of yellow grass, watching in horror as the trees warped and blackened from the roots.
The infected soil blew in the ill wind like ash and clung to everything around it. Houses sat beneath swells of dust until the windows were stained a foreboding cement color. The unfortunate residents batted at the tainted air and stuffed cloth into every nook and cranny of their homes, but to no avail. Abating the sky’s wrath would be nigh impossible.
Refraining from watching his creation, Veon spun on his heel and closed the window a few feet behind him. He knew he had succeeded by the shudders of the tower.
He descended the spiraling stone steps in even strides, moving with an inhuman elegance and speed. His grace eluded his true intentions and bore him well. His actions always came a surprise to those who had never seen him before nor knew who he was.
It was this he enjoyed most.
He threw open the great hall doors with a reckoning force. He stepped past them slowly as the six inch thick doors as tall as the third tower window flew off their hinges collapsed with a deafening boom, kicking up great plumes of black dust in their wake.
The others in the room flinched at the commotion and stared in terror at the man in front of them. His red eyes held no compassion or chivalry, resembling lifeless glowing coals.
A thin face like that of a dead man’s, skinned and draped over the skull of a larger man. Veins bulged across his forehead and glowing orange lines spider webbed his face from exposure to dark magic. His hair was snow white and his plagued skin pale and translucent, like paper over a flame. His teeth were misshapen and fangs protruded over his canine teeth, the only enamel not blackened.
He stalked closer to the group, his midnight cloak billowing behind him like a storm driven force. His wrapped boots stepped lightly across the marble floor. He heeded no attention to the heavily armored guards on either side of the room.
A golden throne sat in the center of the room, laden with furs and velvet. Its bearer sitting high. Long tapestries hung from the high ceiling, embroidered with a griffin snapping a dogwood tree in its jaws above a star. A single wooden table stretched from the entire length of the great hall with plate after plate of a variety of meats and fruits on a dozen platters.
Veon swiftly seized a pewter goblet from the table and drained it in a single gulp. He studied the cup slowly, turning it in his hand, weighing the heavy utensil. He smiled and stepped slowly over to the small congregation, his wide toothy grin striking the group with unparalleled fear.
The guards split into two groups of six, the first on either side of the seated king, the other blocking the exit to which Veon had entered. Veon smiled wider as the clinking and shuffling of the guards ceased, his fangs glinting beneath the chandelier above.
“King Gerald,” Veon’s silky smooth voice poured forward, caressing the people’s minds with a gentle touch. “ I thank you for your hospitality, and inviting me to your most humble abodes.”
He bowed low then stood straight and tall.
The lights seemed to dim and the fire wane. A cold chill swept through the room, engulfing the room in near darkness.
King Gerald watched in awe at his swirling breath before him. He looked up suddenly into the unforgiving eyes before him.
Thoughts swirled through his mind but none he could seize. His mind’s eye was blind and its vision blank. In the near dark he swore he saw those crimson eyes glow but he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“You..red-eyed-one.” King Gerald stuttered. “Leave at once. You. You are not welcome in my home.” He swayed and rubbed his temples sorely. His head throbbed and his eyes bloodshot, bulged slightly.
“But sire, it is you who summoned me.”
The king’s guests looked back and forth, following the conversation intently.
“I have done no such thing!” King Gerald retorted.
“Oh but you have. Let me educate you.” Veon said in the most condescending voice he could muster without being directly rude. “I sent you an invitation a month ago did I not? And you, being the majestic ruler you are, deigned it unworthy of your presence and returned it, crumpled, torn, and spat on. So here I am, to ask you once more. Will you join my alliance of the Magi?”
King Gerald stood slowly and cracked his ringed knuckles and drank deeply or his wine. He stepped forward, passing his wall of guards, and stood inches away from his unwanted visitor. He stood nearly a head taller than Veon and his girth was as wide as two of the intruder. He smiled a wicked smile and leaned close to Veon.
“To hell with you and your Magi.” He sneered and spat in Veon’s face.
He roared with laughter, holding his belly and shaking with effort to control himself from doubling over in hilarity. His subjects followed suit and soon the room was full of guffaws and snickering.
“That is unfortunate.” Veon said at last, and wiped the spit from his eye. He stood silent several moments and looked upon the laughing crowd, blind from their hysterics.
King Gerald wiped tears from his eyes and straightened, still just a few inches from Veon. He smiled disdainfully and crossed his thick arms.
Veon smiled then, and lifted his goblet in the air.
“A toast then.” He paused. “To King Gerald, may he meet a quick end.” He finished, still holding his goblet high. The room was silent and the moment tense.
“Or not.” Veon said suddenly, shattering the silence and King Gerald’s skull as the pewter goblet struck his face, lifting him off his feet then landing in a heap.
Pandemonium erupted in the room as they soaked in what had just come to pass. Veon waited for them to react. The guards were first to understand.
They charged him without regard to order or formation and stumbled to get at him first. A pike man stabbed out at him from behind, catching his comrade in the throat as Veon ducked and swept to the side, dropping the goblet and brandishing his knuckles.
The guards chuckled and charged again.
Emerald flames engulfed the frontline of soldiers in a mesmerizing illumination, cooking them inside their armor and charring anything exposed. They collapsed roasting, and writhed in agony as their replacements stepped on them to get at the murderer.
Several axes and swords swung out at Veon’s torso and head, missing by an inch as he bobbed and weaved, casting out sparks of lightning at the attackers, blasting a man off his feet across the room. He reached out and caught a mace, wrenched it from the man’s grasp and smashed in his face.
The remaining guests did nothing more than scream and watch in horror, aside from dodging an air borne body, frozen by fear.
The last guard stood alone as his brother in arms thrashed about, attempting to remove his own armored hand from the inside of his belly. He backed away from his screaming comrade and assailant, quivering in his plated mail. He dropped his axe and ran away from them. He looked back at them and saw Veon still standing there, then turned quickly, into the sword held out by Veon.
His eyes bulged as he looked back at his silent friend now alone, then to the sword which impaled him. He looked pleading at Veon then to the horrified group of onlookers staring at his feet. He followed their gaze and blanched yet more.
Veon effortlessly heaved the impaled soldier into the air and jolted the sword violently, ripping the blade through the man’s side and out. The broken body dropped and slumped with a splash.
The room went silent as a church and more depressing than a graveyard. Men lay scattered about the room, some bloodied, others smoldering. Blood pools smeared and streaked the entire great hall and the stench of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air.
Veon breathed deeply.
The castle shuddered then with an immense power, the stones rippling beneath Veon’s hand. He smiled, bowed and left quietly, leaving all those alive in shock.
The people mourned freely now and wept over those they had lost. Screams and deep inhalations uttered through sobbing grew unanimous among the guests as they stared at the king’s body, a dark stain about his head.
Just as the cries reached a climax, a loud explosion swept through the castle, flames roaring through the halls and swelling into every room eating up all furniture and people alike, incinerating everything in its path. Growing in apprehension, the mourners stood unsteadily, watching the great hall exit flicker, just as a blinding light filled the room.
The castle imploded in a blinding flash, flames and debris filling the ominous sky with dazzling cinders raining down among stone. A pillar of smoke plumed high, camouflaging perfectly. The repercussions shook the land and blew down all the trees nearby. Burning rubble fell and cast their emerald tongues of torch across the deadened land.
The rubble and remains of the castle sat utterly destroyed, burning beneath immense flames of dazzling emerald fire. The blackened world grew even darker and all light vanished, consumed by the night.
Desolate and deprived of life, the land watched as Veon departed into the misty smoke ahead, eyes blazing.
“Invitation rejected.”