Chapter 1

Torches flickered, casting eerie shadows against the wall’s rocky surface. Only three of them remained now. Jeshir had insisted Mogwin send his guards back to the cave’s entrance to prevent any interruptions.

Interruptions? Torwin couldn’t keep the wry smile away as he brushed a stray cobweb out of view. What are the chances of that? We are stuck down in some damp smelling cave in the middle of a damned forest, miles from anything resembling civilisation. An interruption would be welcomed.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Mogwin to send away his men. But Torwin was thankful that he had. The sooner they left this place, the better. He never felt comfortable away from the familiar roads of Telmlee. Outside of the city just seemed too open and well—too green. He brushed his hand over the hilt of his sword, but this gave him little comfort.

“I can’t see why I had to send all of the guards away,“ Mogwin moaned. “Two could have stayed at least.”

Torwin looked across at him, arms crossed, he didn‘t look very happy. Mogwin was a skinny man of about thirty winters of age. His sandy hair was a mess, as always. He wore a faded red jerkin and an elaborate looking blue cloak. His clothing, which once would have been considered grand, looked like it had well passed its best. He was among the influential men in Telmlee and unquestionably the tightest man who had ever walked the lands. Torwin had never liked Mogwin. Apart from being tight, he was also treacherous. He was the kind of man who would see his best friend imprisoned if it meant earning a profit. That’s if Mogwin ever had such a thing as a friend.

However, Jeshir had insisted on his presence, saying the gods had requested it. It had been easy to convince him to accompany them. The promised “gifts from the gods” or something for nothing had been just too much for him, and that’s what Jeshir offered. But it wasn’t just something, she had promised the stone would give them everything.

“It’s here, the doorway to the gods,” said Jeshir. She giggled, rubbing her hands together with excitement like a mischievous child.

Torwin grinned; She was amazing. No matter how dark his mood, one ray of her smile would just make it disappear. Her shoulder-length golden hair bordered the petite but beautiful features of her face. Her emerald green eyes shone with eternal youth, that even their dull surroundings couldn’t dampen. She was dressed in simple leather breeches and moss green blouse that she favoured, even though he had brought for her many fine garments to wear. His eyes rested on one of her tiny hands that pointed towards the wall.

“The door, love.” she said, grinning even more now.

“Ah yeah…the door.” Torwin looked hard at the wall she gestured to, but couldn’t see anything. If there was a door there, it had been cleverly concealed. “I can’t quite see it, Jes,” he replied, still dubious as to its existence.

Jeshir moved to a section of the unremarkable wall and began to press at different locations. Torwin swore under his breath as cracks appeared and a door began to grind open. Decades-old, stale air gushed out from behind it.

“You can see it now though, right?” She grinned full of herself.

Until now, Torwin had thought this whole endeavour to be one of Jeshir’s more bizarre fantasies. However, here they were, and with every step, the whole fantasy became more and more real.

When the door finished opening, Torwin followed Jeshir into the chamber. Their torches cast light around the new surroundings. What he saw was an anticlimax. A dome shaped room, with strange pictures or maybe some type of writing engraved on every surface, this place was obviously man-made. An unimpressive pedestal stood alone in the otherwise empty chamber. A stone about the size of his fist rested on it. He had expected the resting place of the gods to be more…well grandeur.

If Jeshir had been disappointed, she did not show it, her attention fixed solely on the pedestal and what lay upon it. She walked towards the simple stone, tears of happiness rolled down her soft cheeks. “So long…” she whispered. Bending, she drove the torch she carried into a crack that had formed in the floor then returned her attention to the Stone. Reaching out, she took care to brush a layer of thick dust from the surface of the stone. She looked back at him. Her lips transformed into an amazing smile with the torchlight illuminating her golden hair. It was like watching an angel.

Time had passed so fast since first meeting her. On first impression, he had found Jeshir a little strange. Nevertheless, he took her under his wing. She had a talent. She knew things, not things she had read or overheard. She revealed things that weren’t common knowledge, occasionally things that hadn’t even happened yet. With her help, he had grown from being a simple merchant, struggling from day to day to make ends meet, into one of the city’s most influential businessmen. When something big was going down, with Jeshir’s help, he was there to close the deal.

She also doted on him. Always at his side, Jeshir would never have it any other way. He had become very fond of her, even with her eccentric ways. So when she had told him that she was leaving, he was flabbergasted. She told him the reason for her departure was to search for the final resting place of the gods. He had laughed, telling her it was nonsense, but eventually after realising that there was no way he could change her mind, he had decided to go with her. Better that than lose her.

“What now, Jeshir?” Torwin’s chain of thought broke at Mogwin’s voice. The man had now just entered the room, letting them go in before him so that he knew it was safe. “When do we get the gift?”

“We will receive our rewards soon. The water?” she extended a waiting hand.

“Water?” Mogwin frowned until it clicked. “Oh yeah, the ardent water.” He searched about his person, before bringing out a small, metal flask, the type one might carry spirits in, but Torwin expected that drinking the contents of this flask would leave more than just a hangover the next morning.

Taking the flask, she held it up and stared at it, her face coated in disappointment. “Is that all?”

“You’re lucky to get that and be sparing with it. It was very hard to come by and very expensive.” He added the last part with an edge of disapproval in his voice.

If Jeshir had heard him, she ignored him. Pulling the stopper out of the flask, she poured the entire contents over the stone.

Mogwin gaped at her. “What a waste.”

“Don’t worry. Material riches will be of little concern to you soon,” she replied

I doubt that, thought Torwin. Even with gifts from the gods, Mogwin would still be the most tight-fisted man in the world.

The three crowded around the pedestal and waited. At first, nothing happened. Mogwin shifted about impatiently. A small puff of pungent smoke lifted from the stone, burning without flame.

“It’s not enough. We need more water,” said Jeshir.

“More?” shouted Mogwin. “You got to be joking. Do you know how much that cost?”

“How many times, Mogwin? What the gods offer us has more value than all the money in the kingdom.”

“Huff. I doubt that, as I am starting to doubt the whole of this business. It’s been nothing but a waste of my time and money if you ask me.” His face turned bright red.

“I knew I should have brought one of the others. I’m sure they would have managed to have gotten more.” An angry scowl replaced her normally permanent smile, which didn't suit her.

Torwin left them to their argument and wandered away from the stone. Not that he was disappointed in the slightest, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for Jeshir. At least with this business over, they could return to the city. He had been meaning to ask her for some time. Maybe the idea of marriage would take her mind off this fantasy. A nagging question remained in his head. If it is a fantasy what are we doing here? This place existed, so maybe...

A cry of pain brought him back to his senses. It was Mogwin.

The argument must have turned nasty. Jeshir’s probably kicked him somewhere where it hurts, something I should have done a long time ago.

He turned around to split the quarrelsome two up. But what he saw was not what he had expected. Mogwin was now on all fours, his face an even brighter red and showing great pain. Jeshir lay squirming on the floor. She was in obvious pain but no sound passed her lips.

What the hell happened? He rushed to Jeshir’s side. “Jeshir? Are you okay?”

She looked up at him. There was still an expression of agony on her face, but somehow she managed a smile. “They are here, Torwin. Let them in; let them give you their gift.” Her voice sounded strange, not the low, gentle voice that he had grown used to, but commanding and…sinister.

Sharp pain shot through his mind, as if pierced by an arrow. Standing, hands clasped over his face, he stubbing away from his fallen friend. The pain began to clear, as a thunderous voice manifested within his thoughts.

You are the chosen. In return for serving us, you will have all your desires granted. Release yourself to us.

Spinning around, wide fearful blue eyes searched for some kind of explanation. Jeshir and Mogwin both lay still now. Their screaming had stopped. They looked like they were in a peaceful sleep.

“Who are you?” he shouted out to the room.

We are they that you searched for. We are your gods. Let us in. Jeshir is with us. Be with us. Before it is too late, your chance to be reunited with Jeshir will pass

“Jeshir is with you? What do you mean?” Another erupt pain, much like the first, with some force downed him to his knees. Accompanying it, a new voice shaped within his mind.

Do not listen to them, I beg you. It is a trick. They are not gods. This second voice was more singular where the first was like a choir. His mind felt like a glass that had been smashed a thousand times, as the first presence attacks became more forceful.

Let me in, Torwin, came the second of the presences. I may be able to stop this before it is too late. I might be able to save you.

No, do not listen to him. We are your gods. Let us in NOW! the first presence screamed at him.

He could no longer stand this. His head felt like it was going to explode. If he didn’t do something soon, he would pass out from the pain. He had to make a choice. The first had offered all that he desired as well as being reunited with Jeshir. The second offered nothing. But something was not right about the first, and he knew what it was. He just didn’t trust it. He felt himself slipping.

He made his choice…

****

To begin with there was nothing apart from the falling sensation. No sound, no light, nothing. When the falling ceased, dampness filled his senses as he smelled his soundings for the first time. He began to make out voices. Distant at first but they were becoming clearer with each passing moment.

“I feel so empty,” a female hissed, her voice embroiled with urgency. “We are still endangered in this state. We must feed.”

“There are souls outside of the caves to feed on. First we must release more of us.” The second voice was calmer than the first, but just as cold.

Guysall could still feel Torwin’s presence somewhere at the back of his mind. It was very weak, but it was still there. Now able to open his eyes, he blinked several times to clear his vision. To begin with he could only make out an orange glow. As his vision cleared further, he recognised the glow as the flame of a torch that lay on the ground, just out of arms reach from his face. He was lying down he realised. He turned his head to look upward. He made out two hazy figures standing over him. He tried to focus, one was a man, the other a woman he determined.

“At last, he awakes. To your feet, we have work to do.” The man extended a hand for him to pull himself up.

Good, they haven’t realised I’m not one of them. That only buys me a short time though.

Taking the man’s hand, he was pulled up from the floor. He wavered to begin with finding his legs. He steadied as his head began to clear. Looking around he recognised the domed shaped room. It had been so long since he had last seen it. Both the man and the woman stood around him expectantly.

“How do you feel?” the woman at last asked him. Even though she was attractive, her face was twisted with cruelty and her eyes glinted with wickedness.

“Empty.” Remembering the earlier conversation, it was the only thing he could think to say.

“Yes I know, as we all are,” growled the man, his darkened features showing annoyance at the constant reminder. “But first we have more important work. The man called Mogwin was holding this back.” He revealed a second flask and offered it to the woman. “Don’t worry, we shall feed soon,” he promised, smirking at Guysall.

A chill ran down Guysall’s spine.

So far so good, but I will have to come up with a plan. His hand rested onto the hilt of a sword. Well, at least I have a weapon.

The woman had now moved to the pedestal and with care poured the water over the stone, so as not to waste any. He had to act with haste, before any more of the shadow spawn was released. With the element of surprise, he might be able to finish them off before to much damage was done. But how was he going to draw the sword without rising suspicion? Even though he could not see any weapons on the other two persons, that didn’t mean they didn’t have any.

Drawing the sword, he wafted it through the air pretending to test its weight.

“Fine weapon,” he said to the man that had noticed his sword play.

The man gave him a quizzical look. “Yes, I suppose.”

Lowering the sword but not returning it to its scabbard, he approached the woman. She looked towards him as he neared.

No, not her. It was Torwin. He had realised Guysall’s plan.

I am sorry, I must. There is no other choice. Have solace in that it is not Jeshir anymore. She has passed on.

Torwin remained quiet, but Guysall could still feel his pain at knowing what was about to happen.

“How long until our brothers are released?” he asked her, continuing his pretence.

“Not long. Already some of our kin have left their entrapment and are searching suitable forms to occupy. More are being released as we speak.”

She returned her attention to the stone and continued pouring the liquid. It hissed on contact with the stone, and an unpleasant acrid smelling smoke rose from it. Her back to him, with force he thrust the sword into her. She screamed out in pain, then crashed against the pedestal and slid to the floor. The flask cluttered across the floor as she released her grip.

A howl of sorrow rose from the back of his mind.

Guysall turned to face his other opponent but was too late. A sharp pain erupted in his chest as the man standing now face-to-face with him stabbed him with a sharp knife.

“Who are you?” he screamed. Without waiting for an answer, he stabbed him a second time. Guysall fell to his knees, blood pouring from his wound.

“The water,” yelled the man, realizing that the flask laid on its side, the contents now pouring over the surface of the floor. In his haste to recover it, some of the liquid splashed over his hand. The skin began to melt away. Yelling in pain, he dropped the bottle. His knife clattered to the floor as he freed up his good hand. This time with added care, he picked up the flask.

Turning, it was now Guysall’s turn to surprise him. Grabbing the hand containing the flask, he thrust it into his face, the skin began blistering. Crying in pain, the man brought his hands to the smoking flesh. Guysall recovered the fallen dagger and thrust it into the man’s chest.

His eyes widened, and he fell to the floor dead. Guysall followed him down. The earlier wound had sapped his remaining strength. He rolled onto his back, the front of his tunic covered in blood.

“I am so sorry, Torwin, I really wished to save you,” he whispered.

Somewhere in the back of Guysall’s mind came a reply.

I know. You did your best. What now?

“You will be reunited with Jeshir.“ Guysall wasn’t sure if he believed this or if he was just trying to comfort him.

And you?

“No. My time is not yet come. I still have work. More of them escaped. They are out there now and they must be stopped.”