Inexplicably, spirits were still high as the nobles and the servants rushed into the grand hall to escape the unexpected downpour. Even though hairdos and outfits were ruined, along with most of the food, everyone was smiling and laughing. They’d all been feeling the tension of the heat and the unrest of the people every bit as much as Kelvun had, he realized.
It was a pity they hadn’t had this party indoors. It would have been wonderful to have in the grand hall while they watched the lightning flicker and flash and listened as the rain drowned out everything except the thunder.
“I suppose this means I’ll finally be able to take the missus back to our home and finally stop imposing on you,” Lord Leonin said, offering Kelvun his hand. “Once the river has refilled and traffic is restored, we were talking about taking a trip to Abendend or…”
The servants were still running in and out of the side doors closest to where the remains of the evening’s festivities lay in their watery grave amidst the gardens, so Count Garvin had been straining to hear his Viscount’s groveling when the main doors to the entrance hall suddenly slammed open, shattering the dozens of conversations that had been taking place moments before with a wave of silence.
Kelvun looked toward the sound along with everyone else, but despite the lit candelabras, the light did not reach their guest, and all he could make out was the silhouette of a single person. For a moment, the fact that there was only one person there was a relief; he’d worried that, despite the rain, the mob had finally worked up the nerve to escalate things.
That relief didn’t last long, though. As the figure strode forward silently into the hall, the nearby candles and lamps that had withstood the sudden gust of wind began to flicker and gutter. Then they went out one at a time as the light shrank from the spreading shadows that seemed to grow larger with every step forward.
Kelvun hadn’t felt like this in years - not since that night he’d met with his mages on the eve of the canal’s completion - but he recognized it immediately. The darkness had come for him. For a moment, anger flared inside him as he realized the darkness hadn’t just come, but it was doing it in a place where his peers could see him.
“Seize him,” Kelvun said, drawing the sword he’d been wearing and advancing two steps. His weapon was ornamental, but everyone else didn’t know that. The intruder certainly didn’t.
Kelvun almost backed down when no one else moved. Finally, two guards began to advance on the shadowy figure, giving Kelvun the strength he needed to keep going. The stranger kept walking until it reached the table closest to the door, and then they stopped. It seemed oblivious to the three men with swords advancing on it and instead produced a box from nowhere and placed it on the table. Then, without a word, it turned and began to walk back the way it came.
“You there!” one of the guards shouted, “halt by order of Lord Garvin!”
It ignored the command, angering Kelvun further, though he tried not to let his impotent rage show through his mask of calm as he studied the box. It was golden, and even from this distance, he could see that it was engraved with many strange symbols and only a little larger than a man’s head.
The strange calm of that moment was finally broken when the second guard reached for their uninvited guest, and his hand went right through it like it was nothing but a ghost.
“Witchcraft!” the second guard yelled out as the first one tried to run it through with his sword. The sword strike was no more effective than the mailed fist had been though, and the shadowy form continued to retreat in slow, measured steps, apparently completely unconcerned about the panicked whispers and fidgeting that was rising in its wake.
“You fools - get a torch and—” Kelvun was shouting out orders to try to stay in some sort of control, but before he could tell his men to fight the thing with fire, it had crossed beyond the threshold, and the doors slammed forcefully behind it. That was followed almost immediately by the side doors slamming, then the windows and the interior doors. One by one, every single exit from the hall had shut, and the count had a terrible feeling in his stomach.
Panic was rising now and spreading like fire among the nobles. Some of them were trying to force the doors open now, while most of the others were busy demanding answers or praying.
“Everyone, please remain calm,” he yelled, trying to sound more confident than he was. “The servants will restore the lights in a moment, and then we will deal with the prankster behind this very harshly.”
Even while he spoke, he kept walking toward the box though. He was drawn to it in a way that was almost magnetic. He considered trying to burn it unopened, but he doubted that just taking a quick peek would hurt. After all, the darkness needed him. This was probably just an attempt by whatever dregs were left in the deepest part of the swamp to bluff about its strength or beg for mercy.
He never quite touched the thing, though. When his hand hovered inches away, it opened by itself, unfolding like a complicated work of art to reveal a golden skull. It was stylized and expensive but obviously not real. The slight asymmetries present throughout it kept it from being quite beautiful, though. Instead, it was off-putting. If it were up to him, he’d have the thing melted down immediately.
It wasn’t up to him. He’d have to humor the darkness, at least until he could drive a stake through its foul heart. He just had to—
Kelvun’s mind came to a screeching halt as the skull rose into the air, and a glowing, ghostly body began to materialize around it. The figure was just translucent enough that he could see the skull flickering beneath the handsome face of the dead man, but otherwise, it was a convincing illusion. He hadn’t seen better outside the capital. There was something about the man that it portrayed that looked familiar to Kelvun, but he couldn’t quite place it, at least not until the disembodied spirit began to speak.
“In thanks for all you have done for it over the years, Count Kelvun Garvin, my master has offered you a boon: one final performance so everyone might know your greatness.” The ghost’s voice was uncertain and wavering like he spoke underwater, but it was still loud enough that Kelvun was sure all could hear.
This was the ghost of a bard that he’d heard play in his father’s court when he was young. He couldn’t recall the name, but he was sure that he’d known the man in life, however briefly, and the swamp had dared summoned him into his house where people could see? Kelvun could hear his heart pounding in his ears now as the rage flowed through him. How was he supposed to deflect or minimize such a terrible charge? He was ruined! Perhaps if he could play this off as a message from the Magica Collegium, he could make everything think this was the work of mages instead of evil spirits.
Kelvun tried to think frantically, noting with only vague interest as several stringed instruments flew out of their owner’s hands and took to the air, orbiting the strange apparition. He didn’t give a fig for any performance. He only wanted this to stop, but there was neither a mage nor a priest in attendance who had any hope of sending this abomination back to the netherworld.
The sound of the instruments coming to life was melodious at first but in an inhuman way. As first the lute and then the violin joined it, they struck a discordant melody that was at once lacking in harmony and using minor keys in a way that was unnerving. None of that compared to the sound of the ghostly singing that came next.
“There once was a boy who thought people were toys,
and his father was a lousy drunk.
He sold his land for a song but didn’t think it wrong,
For where his heart should be was only junk.
As ruler Kelvun had his season but for almost no reason,
He chose to commit this treason.
Now an unblooded hero, the callowest zero,
He’s much too good for the gallows...”
The note lingered here for a few seconds for the tension to build before the final line shattered it with a hand full of syllables.
“So now he will die in the dark.”
The dissonant music horrified Kelvun as much as it did everyone else, but once the signing started, he stood transfixed as all his sins were suddenly laid bare before everyone. His wife. His servants. The other lords of the region. There would be no way to come back from this.
Upon reaching the end of his song, the ghost kept playing the instruments, but as the word ‘dark’ was spoken, every light in the palace that he could see was extinguished in unison. It was terrifying enough that it made his heart seize in his chest, but half a dozen women screamed as a result.
Kelvun should run. He knew that, but he couldn’t make himself move from where he stood, gazing up at the ghost, which was the only source of light left in the room. It was dark enough that no one would see his cowardice. He could escape via one of the servant exits or maybe a second-story window. If neither of those worked, he could always lock himself in his chapel until this was over, he thought desperately. The ground there was consecrated, and that should be enough to keep evil out.
The sound of splintering wood from somewhere close in the darkness gave him hope for a moment. “Those good-for-nothing guards must have finally gotten off their asses and done something,” he muttered to himself. Kelvun was about to commend them on their work and order everyone to evacuate, but the blood-curdling scream he heard next changed everything.
It wasn’t the sound of someone being startled but the sound of someone being murdered.
Kelvun stood there breathing heavily to keep from fainting even as the panic spread through the crowd of nobles, and many of them started running.
“Run for your lives!” A shrill male voice shouted. Others shouted similar things, but the first voice was the loudest.
“The dead have risen! They—” Another person screamed. This time it was a woman. What caught his attention, though, wasn’t what she said; it was the awful tearing sounds and breaking sounds. They weren’t the sound of doors or furniture but the sounds of meat and carnage.
At that moment, he was suddenly transported back to the battlefield on that terrible day when the goblins had surrounded him and threatened to eat his impromptu army whole. It was that extra jolt of fear that finally gave him the impetus to run towards the closest staircase.
Along the way, he shoved several bodies out of the way and almost tripped over one on the ground, but Kelvun didn’t let that stop him. Somehow the swamp had unleashed monsters among them as some sort of last-gasp revenge, and he was going to lock himself in the only place in the entire palace that he knew for certain was safe.
Inexplicably, spirits were still high as the nobles and the servants rushed into the grand hall to escape the unexpected downpour. Even though hairdos and outfits were ruined, along with most of the food, everyone was smiling and laughing. They’d all been feeling the tension of the heat and the unrest of the people every bit as much as Kelvun had, he realized.
It was a pity they hadn’t had this party indoors. It would have been wonderful to have in the grand hall while they watched the lightning flicker and flash and listened as the rain drowned out everything except the thunder.
“I suppose this means I’ll finally be able to take the missus back to our home and finally stop imposing on you,” Lord Leonin said, offering Kelvun his hand. “Once the river has refilled and traffic is restored, we were talking about taking a trip to Abendend or…”
The servants were still running in and out of the side doors closest to where the remains of the evening’s festivities lay in their watery grave amidst the gardens, so Count Garvin had been straining to hear his Viscount’s groveling when the main doors to the entrance hall suddenly slammed open, shattering the dozens of conversations that had been taking place moments before with a wave of silence.
Kelvun looked toward the sound along with everyone else, but despite the lit candelabras, the light did not reach their guest, and all he could make out was the silhouette of a single person. For a moment, the fact that there was only one person there was a relief; he’d worried that, despite the rain, the mob had finally worked up the nerve to escalate things.
That relief didn’t last long, though. As the figure strode forward silently into the hall, the nearby candles and lamps that had withstood the sudden gust of wind began to flicker and gutter. Then they went out one at a time as the light shrank from the spreading shadows that seemed to grow larger with every step forward.
Kelvun hadn’t felt like this in years - not since that night he’d met with his mages on the eve of the canal’s completion - but he recognized it immediately. The darkness had come for him. For a moment, anger flared inside him as he realized the darkness hadn’t just come, but it was doing it in a place where his peers could see him.
“Seize him,” Kelvun said, drawing the sword he’d been wearing and advancing two steps. His weapon was ornamental, but everyone else didn’t know that. The intruder certainly didn’t.
Kelvun almost backed down when no one else moved. Finally, two guards began to advance on the shadowy figure, giving Kelvun the strength he needed to keep going. The stranger kept walking until it reached the table closest to the door, and then they stopped. It seemed oblivious to the three men with swords advancing on it and instead produced a box from nowhere and placed it on the table. Then, without a word, it turned and began to walk back the way it came.
“You there!” one of the guards shouted, “halt by order of Lord Garvin!”
It ignored the command, angering Kelvun further, though he tried not to let his impotent rage show through his mask of calm as he studied the box. It was golden, and even from this distance, he could see that it was engraved with many strange symbols and only a little larger than a man’s head.
The strange calm of that moment was finally broken when the second guard reached for their uninvited guest, and his hand went right through it like it was nothing but a ghost.
“Witchcraft!” the second guard yelled out as the first one tried to run it through with his sword. The sword strike was no more effective than the mailed fist had been though, and the shadowy form continued to retreat in slow, measured steps, apparently completely unconcerned about the panicked whispers and fidgeting that was rising in its wake.
“You fools - get a torch and—” Kelvun was shouting out orders to try to stay in some sort of control, but before he could tell his men to fight the thing with fire, it had crossed beyond the threshold, and the doors slammed forcefully behind it. That was followed almost immediately by the side doors slamming, then the windows and the interior doors. One by one, every single exit from the hall had shut, and the count had a terrible feeling in his stomach.
Panic was rising now and spreading like fire among the nobles. Some of them were trying to force the doors open now, while most of the others were busy demanding answers or praying.
“Everyone, please remain calm,” he yelled, trying to sound more confident than he was. “The servants will restore the lights in a moment, and then we will deal with the prankster behind this very harshly.”
Even while he spoke, he kept walking toward the box though. He was drawn to it in a way that was almost magnetic. He considered trying to burn it unopened, but he doubted that just taking a quick peek would hurt. After all, the darkness needed him. This was probably just an attempt by whatever dregs were left in the deepest part of the swamp to bluff about its strength or beg for mercy.
He never quite touched the thing, though. When his hand hovered inches away, it opened by itself, unfolding like a complicated work of art to reveal a golden skull. It was stylized and expensive but obviously not real. The slight asymmetries present throughout it kept it from being quite beautiful, though. Instead, it was off-putting. If it were up to him, he’d have the thing melted down immediately.
It wasn’t up to him. He’d have to humor the darkness, at least until he could drive a stake through its foul heart. He just had to—
Kelvun’s mind came to a screeching halt as the skull rose into the air, and a glowing, ghostly body began to materialize around it. The figure was just translucent enough that he could see the skull flickering beneath the handsome face of the dead man, but otherwise, it was a convincing illusion. He hadn’t seen better outside the capital. There was something about the man that it portrayed that looked familiar to Kelvun, but he couldn’t quite place it, at least not until the disembodied spirit began to speak.
“In thanks for all you have done for it over the years, Count Kelvun Garvin, my master has offered you a boon: one final performance so everyone might know your greatness.” The ghost’s voice was uncertain and wavering like he spoke underwater, but it was still loud enough that Kelvun was sure all could hear.
This was the ghost of a bard that he’d heard play in his father’s court when he was young. He couldn’t recall the name, but he was sure that he’d known the man in life, however briefly, and the swamp had dared summoned him into his house where people could see? Kelvun could hear his heart pounding in his ears now as the rage flowed through him. How was he supposed to deflect or minimize such a terrible charge? He was ruined! Perhaps if he could play this off as a message from the Magica Collegium, he could make everything think this was the work of mages instead of evil spirits.
Kelvun tried to think frantically, noting with only vague interest as several stringed instruments flew out of their owner’s hands and took to the air, orbiting the strange apparition. He didn’t give a fig for any performance. He only wanted this to stop, but there was neither a mage nor a priest in attendance who had any hope of sending this abomination back to the netherworld.
The sound of the instruments coming to life was melodious at first but in an inhuman way. As first the lute and then the violin joined it, they struck a discordant melody that was at once lacking in harmony and using minor keys in a way that was unnerving. None of that compared to the sound of the ghostly singing that came next.
“There once was a boy who thought people were toys,
and his father was a lousy drunk.
He sold his land for a song but didn’t think it wrong,
For where his heart should be was only junk.
As ruler Kelvun had his season but for almost no reason,
He chose to commit this treason.
Now an unblooded hero, the callowest zero,
He’s much too good for the gallows...”
The note lingered here for a few seconds for the tension to build before the final line shattered it with a hand full of syllables.
“So now he will die in the dark.”
The dissonant music horrified Kelvun as much as it did everyone else, but once the signing started, he stood transfixed as all his sins were suddenly laid bare before everyone. His wife. His servants. The other lords of the region. There would be no way to come back from this.
Upon reaching the end of his song, the ghost kept playing the instruments, but as the word ‘dark’ was spoken, every light in the palace that he could see was extinguished in unison. It was terrifying enough that it made his heart seize in his chest, but half a dozen women screamed as a result.
Kelvun should run. He knew that, but he couldn’t make himself move from where he stood, gazing up at the ghost, which was the only source of light left in the room. It was dark enough that no one would see his cowardice. He could escape via one of the servant exits or maybe a second-story window. If neither of those worked, he could always lock himself in his chapel until this was over, he thought desperately. The ground there was consecrated, and that should be enough to keep evil out.
The sound of splintering wood from somewhere close in the darkness gave him hope for a moment. “Those good-for-nothing guards must have finally gotten off their asses and done something,” he muttered to himself. Kelvun was about to commend them on their work and order everyone to evacuate, but the blood-curdling scream he heard next changed everything.
It wasn’t the sound of someone being startled but the sound of someone being murdered.
Kelvun stood there breathing heavily to keep from fainting even as the panic spread through the crowd of nobles, and many of them started running.
“Run for your lives!” A shrill male voice shouted. Others shouted similar things, but the first voice was the loudest.
“The dead have risen! They—” Another person screamed. This time it was a woman. What caught his attention, though, wasn’t what she said; it was the awful tearing sounds and breaking sounds. They weren’t the sound of doors or furniture but the sounds of meat and carnage.
At that moment, he was suddenly transported back to the battlefield on that terrible day when the goblins had surrounded him and threatened to eat his impromptu army whole. It was that extra jolt of fear that finally gave him the impetus to run towards the closest staircase.
Along the way, he shoved several bodies out of the way and almost tripped over one on the ground, but Kelvun didn’t let that stop him. Somehow the swamp had unleashed monsters among them as some sort of last-gasp revenge, and he was going to lock himself in the only place in the entire palace that he knew for certain was safe.
