Resurrection (Book 1: The Chronicles of Chaos) Page 2

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  Prologue

  The final rays of the sun dipped behind the silhouette of the Sacred Hills to the west of the village of Horton Peak. Lanterns were lighting up the houses, emitting an eerie orange glow. The day's work was over for everyone and the entertainment about to begin. The sound of music began to echo out across the town. The local tavern had a good selection of minstrels and bards to keep the crowds entertained. Each night all the families in the village would gather on the village green, conveniently located right outside the tavern in the very centre of the village, just off the main through road. The locals and passers by came together to swap gossip and to relax at the end of a hard day's work in the fields surrounding the village. This would go on for a few hours before the women and children would go home. The children would be washed and put to bed; the women would do the household chores. The men would remain at the tavern, drinking themselves into a stupor. There would be a contingent of town watchmen located outside the tavern. This was to make sure that the peaceful haven the locals had worked hard to create stayed that way. Most of the locals could hold their liquor but occasionally, a traveller from another place would stir up trouble. The rest of the town watch would be patrolling the village perimeter. The village was of simple design. It had two main roads, one the main through road that ran straight from the east gate to the west gate. The other was a ring road all the way around the perimeter of the village. There were a series of small alleyways that connected the ring road to the main road and allowed the locals access to their houses. Each house was made from the timber of the nearby forest at the foot of the sacred hills. The village was protected by a basic wooden palisade; a series of wooden stakes hammered into the ground to create a simple fence. This would not be enough to stop an army but it deterred the few groups of bandits that roamed the countryside.

  During the evening’s merriments, there was a noticeable absence. The Turners, a well respected farming family, were not in attendance. Paddy Turner was usually the life and soul of the party. He had once been the leader of the king's army and as a result was not a man to be disrespected. Paddy was tall, powerful and strong. He was a hero to many. During his time in the army he had cleared the land of trouble. The highways were free of bandits, the towns and cities had highly trained watchmen to keep order and the inhabitants of the Cursed Isle were never allowed to reach the shores of the mainland. Unfortunately, the King decided that his son, Cohen, should lead his armies. This demoted Paddy to second in command, relieving him of most of his decision making powers. Prince Cohen was a hot tempered and arrogant man. He had the best interests of the kingdom at heart but he refused to take advice. Everything had to be done his way or not at all. Paddy could not work like this. He requested that he be relieved from the army altogether. The King denied his request. However, it was when an investigation was ordered to see what the population of Horton Peak were doing that things came to a head. The people of Horton Peak had stopped paying taxes. It turned out that they were stockpiling the money to buy provisions for building a simple defensive structure for the village. At that time, raiding parties were robbing the village of resources and stealing money from shops and houses. This was happening on a weekly basis. Requests had been made to the King to send help but neither the King or Prince Cohen were willing to take action. The Prince, Paddy Turner and a battalion of men were ordered to the village to get the money by whatever means necessary. However, the leaders of this little revolt refused to budge, the money was theirs. The Prince ordered his soldiers to cut down the protesters. Before they struck, Paddy gave the order to stop. Some of the troops did, others did not. Paddy rallied the troops who had ceased the killing to turn on the others and defend the people. A stand-off ensued. The Prince would not fight Paddy; he knew it would be foolish. They made a deal, Paddy would be released from the army to spend the rest of his days in this place. He would use his influence to get the people what they wanted whilst paying the King his taxes. This settled the dispute and made paddy a local hero. He took a wife within a year and had three children; the third to be born this night.

  Ancient folklore of Thorntonvale has often spoken of the arrival of a special child who will rid the kingdom of evil and bring a new found prosperity to the land. It is widely believed that the child would be sent from the gods to do their bidding. This folklore also gave a stark warning. The power of this child may be used for noble purposes but in the wrong hands, could spell the demise of order and the abolition of law. In the wrong hands the child’s powers could be used to bring a new reign of chaos to the land.

  The special child was born this night, the daughter of Paddy Turner. His wife gave birth with no pain. The baby seemed to be in a hurry to enter the world as if it knew that it had a purpose, a destiny to fulfil. All who were present in the room, the Turner family, the doctor and the midwife stood looking at the child with wonder in their eyes. It was the most perfect child anyone had seen. She has thin blonde hair but her facial features and bone structure seemed like no other newborn. The child looked like a very tiny adult. She emitted a radiant beauty that touched all that laid eyes upon her. More than that, she had a strange aura. When in the presence of this child, calmness and serenity were the feelings one had.

  “Isabelle” Paddy said, breaking the silence. “Isabelle Turner, my first daughter”.

  Paddy had the face of a true doting father. His face resembled the sculptor who had spent many an hour, day, month and year creating his finest work of art.

  “Let me hold her” asked Paddy.

  His wife, Maggie, handed the baby over gently.

  “Be careful, you big ogre. Don’t go dropping her now y’hear”.

  “Don’t worry, Maggie. She is in safe hands” Paddy proclaimed.

  “That is what you said before you dropped your first son on his head.” Maggie stated in a matter of fact way.

  “The poor bugger was never the same again” Said the doctor with a wry smile on his face.

  “And who asked you, you cheeky beggar”. Spoke Paddy in mock anger. With that the jovial man of the house burst out of his front door and carried his child towards the village green.

  “Meet the newest member of the Turner family” he shouted at the crowds.

  Cheers went up and people began to gather round for a good look at the child. It seemed that Isabelle had the same effect on all the villagers. Everyone stood silent, admiring the child with awe filled eyes. The moment lasted a few minutes before someone broke into a rousing edition of ‘for he’s a jolly good fellow’. The joy and merriment began.

  The eyes of the villagers were not the only ones to be fixed on the newborn child. Atop a hill, outside the northern wall of the palisade, stood four figures. To look at them from afar, one would see only an effect similar to heat haze. However, upon closer inspection one would see that they were the black and ghostly figures of Wraiths. Dead souls trapped between the ether world and the real world. Only the upper part of their twisted torso existed fully in this world. The rest of their bodies were semi transparent and as untouchable as air. These were the minions of an undead demon called The Watcher; the guardian of Blackheart Castle on the Cursed Isle. His quest is to resurrect the spirit of his creator Bhryll, the god of chaos. The only way for Bhryll to take form upon the earth is to possess the body of the special child, the child sent by the gods. In this body, Bhryll would bring fire upon the kingdom and then the entire planet. The remnants of the living would become slaves to the dead. Hell would join Earth.

  The minions had finally found what they had been looking for. The target was in their sights. They began moving towards the eastern side of the palisade, where the main gate to the village was. Their movement was eerily smooth and silent. They seemed to hover above the ground. They made no sound at all. As the Wraiths neared the gate, the guards were nowhere in sight. Distracted by all the noise and commotion coming from the village green, they had gone to investigate. The Wraiths could speak to each ot
her in the ether world. This gave the impression that they were telepathic but they could also project their voice into the real world if needed. They drifted through the gate and down the dark alleys of the village behind the houses. Floating silently through the shadows they were not noticed by the few people that were not on the village green. They had moved towards the centre of the village. The village green was not the destination though. They were proceeding towards the Turners' house where only Maggie and the midwife remained. As the Wraiths approached, a small child was sitting at the window of the adjacent house looking at the stars with innocent wonder. Just then the Wraiths drifted past his window. The child was choked with fear. The colour drained from his face. He tried to call out to his mother but couldn’t. Three had passed and that seemed to be the last of them. The boy relaxed and went to the window for a closer look. He had pressed his face against the cold glass not daring to open the window in case they dragged him out and ate him. Then the fourth Wraith went by. It stopped right outside the window. The boy froze, fearing to make even the slightest move, scared even to breath. The Wraith seemed to be sniffing the air for something as if it sensed someone was close by. The boy could feel his heart bursting out of his chest, his head pounded with the strength of his pulse. Thud, Thud. He was sure the Wraith could hear it. The moment seemed to last an eternity. The Wraith continued to sniff the air. Then for no apparent reason, it moved on. The boy went running to his mother, the fear had instilled him with newfound courage.

  “Mummy, Mummy, there is a demon outside”. The boy yelped frantically.

  “Oh, don’t be silly” his mother told him calmly. “It was probably just someone returning home from the tavern”.

  “B..B..but it was a demon, Mummy. It had no legs and was heading towards the Turners' house.”

  The woman cut him off.

  “Stop being silly,” the woman said more sternly, “demons cannot get into our village. There are only two entrances, both watched by guards. Remember, they were taught by Mr Turner and are the best in the land.”

  Realising that his Mother did not believe him, the boy slumped back to his room.

  The woman went back to the job of knitting a new tunic for her husband. It was his birthday soon and she wanted to surprise him. There was something bothering her though. The look in her son’s eyes was one of genuine terror, not the look of someone who just had a bad dream. She sighed deeply,

  “I guess I better go and have a look”, she thought to herself. She stood up and donned her cloak and sandals. She quickly had a look in on her son. He was fast asleep but was under his bed rather than on it. Smiling to herself, she closed the door very gently so as not to wake the boy. She then proceeded out of the front door. The Turner’s house was the next house up the street. It was only fifteen feet away. Inspecting the house from afar, she noticed that there was no light inside the house. The normal flickering of candles could not be seen.

  “Strange that there is no light,” she thought to herself, “I would have thought that there would be a lot of activity going on in there tonight. The midwife would still be tending to Maggie. Paddy would still be at the tavern and would expect a light to be left on for him.”

  Troubled thoughts crept into her head. She stood there for fully five minutes, willing something to happen; some movement or a person to appear in the doorway perhaps. She was scared. With a deep breath she proceeded to the front door of the house. Knock, Knock.

  “Maggie? It’s Vera, from next door.” She shouted. There was only silence.

  “Maggie?” she called again. There was still no sound to be heard. She turned away from the door and looked around, unsure what to do. There was nobody around. Most people were either tucked away in their houses or at the Tavern. There was a faint sound from inside the house. It sounded like the back door closing. Vera moved to inspect the side of the house. As she peered into the black she thought she saw something move into the shadows behind her own house. It was only a brief flicker so she dismissed it as her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She went back to the front door. Knock, Knock. She hammered harder this time. Still there was no reply. Vera tried the handle. It was open. There was a foul stench in the air. The room was also deathly cold. It sent a shiver down her spine as soon as she opened the door. She decided to go and fetch a lantern from her home. Sensing that there was something very wrong, she moved with great haste. She took the lantern from inside of her front door and returned. Upon entering the Turners' house, Vera froze in shock. She could feel the vomit coming up from her stomach. Her legs went weak and wobbly. Then just as the vomit was entering her throat, she turned and lunged outside, washing the lane with the contents of her stomach. Vera felt angry, repulsed, nauseous and shocked. She tried to stand up but darkness overcame her. She fainted.

  Paddy was walking home from the Tavern with his daughter in his arms and Vera’s husband, Ted, by his side. They made a fine pair. Paddy stood over 6 foot tall and was fairly well muscled. In his middle age he had developed a rotund beer gut that made him look less athletic than he may otherwise. A well groomed and slightly greying beard covered his lower face. His friend was no less distinguished.

  “A fine night had by all.” Paddy proclaimed to the small grey haired man next to him.

  Ted was a member of the original village guard and, like Paddy, served his time in the King’s army. Ted was now old. “Some years over 60” he would tell people. His years belied his fitness however. He was a skilled blacksmith and the many hours spent crafting fine blades, shields and armour had maintained his health. His skill with a blade was legendary. The 'marauding midget' was the name he was given in the army for his fearless charges into battle. He was not a bright chap but he was brave.

  “You are not wrong, my friend. I haven’t had such a fill of ale since I was a lad. I didn’t handle it quite so well back then. I was unconscious for the best part of three days.”

  “Well my vertically challenged friend,” Paddy began, “you handle your ale like a true professional these days.”

  “I know it is not obvious by these dashing good looks but I have had years to practice.” Ted replied.

  “You haven’t? I don't believe you.” Paddy said in a sarcastic tone.

  “I know it’s hard to believe but I really have”.

  The pair broke out into laughter. They continued home, singing songs and telling stories. Ted was near hysteria when they rounded the corner onto their lane. Paddy looked down the road as he always did and stopped. With great urgency he tapped Ted on the arm,

  “There is someone lying in the road outside my house, come on.” With that Paddy charged up the lane closely followed by his friend.

  “It’s Vera” Paddy shouted as he arrived at the body. He put the baby down next to him and placed two fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse.

  “She is alive.” He said as Ted scrambled down next to her.

  “Vera, Vera, its Ted. Can you hear me?” Ted was shaking her gently and tapping her on her cheek.

  “Come on Vera, Love, wake up.” Ted was getting choked. Tears were welling up in his eyes.

  She started to come round. As she opened her eyes she could see two blurred figures, then the image of what she had seen flashed through her mind. She shot up off the ground and began screaming and running away from Paddy's house.

  “Get me away from there.” She screamed. The rest of what she said was nothing but inaudible squealing. Her distress was very troubling to both the men. They chased her down and sat her on the porch of one of the other houses.

  Words started to be heard in the ranting.

  “Dead…..Blood……Maggie.” These three words that came from Vera’s mouth sent Paddy running back towards his house.

  “Wait for me, Paddy.” Ted shouted, but Paddy was deaf. He had to get to his wife. He picked up the lantern Vera had dropped on the porch and burst through the front door.

  Words failed him as he stopped, a shocked expression crossed his face.. P
addy fell to his knees, his hands covering his face. A long silence ensued as he observed the horrific scene before him.

  “Who did this?” He said again and again in a whisper, his vocal chords not fully working yet. Finally, he snapped.

  “WHO DID THIS?” The scream was penetrating and horrific. The words were filled with hate, anger and shock.

  With this scream Ted came running through the door to see what had happened. The sight before him was like a scene from his worst nightmares. Paddy was on his knees, head in hands, whimpering and rocking forwards and backwards. The floor, walls and ceiling were covered in blood. Hardly an inch of wood or furniture remained untouched by the crimson spray. The charred remains of the midwife were protruding from the fireplace. The fire was not long since extinguished but it was obvious that she had been placed headfirst into the fire. Her legs were unscathed but her head and torso were charred beyond recognition and still smouldering. Based on the scratch marks in the wooden floor and fireplace, she was held down and burned alive. The rest of the room was scattered with limbs. One arm could be found on the bookshelf, oozing blood over the books on lower shelves and dripping onto the floor like a dripping tap. The other arm had been mauled beyond recognition and was sitting on a plate on the dining table at the left of the room. The hands were in vases in the two windows on either side of the front door. The flowers that occupied the vases were scattered over the ground. Each leg had been hacked apart at the knee and the ankle. The parts were scattered in the kitchen and on the beds. It was an open plan area but the focal point in the centre of the room, was a large circular fur rug on the floor above which a chandelier candle holder used to hang. The chandelier was now in the centre of the rug. Hanging from the ceiling was the severed head of Maggie Turner. Her long blonde hair had been stapled to the ceiling with kitchen knives. Her teeth had been smashed and her eyes had been plucked out, only hanging on by the muscle attachments at the back.

  Ted ran out of the house and down to the end of the street. There was a bell tower to call the guards not one hundred yards away. He climbed the tower as fast as he could and frantically rang the bell. Within minutes the majority of watch had gathered. Ted climbed down.

  “Search the village for intruders. Someone has killed Maggie Turner and her midwife.” Ted screamed.

  The guards scrambled, each with a set area to search. Some went back to the east gate, others to the west gate to see if anyone had left. Whenever the bell was tolled, the gate watchmen would man their positions rather than going to see what the trouble is.

  The master of the guard and a few of his men went to inspect the scene. The sheer horror was too much for even the master of the guard, who had seen some horrendous sights in his time.

  Paddy finally looked up, anger and rage replacing his grief and sorrow. He began to walk further into the room. The master of the guard put his hand on Paddy’s shoulder to stop him but he was shrugged off.

  The commotion had awoken the entire village. Word had spread. It reached the ears of the three sons’ of Paddy and Maggie in the small hours of the morning. They went home as fast as possible. They charged into the house and were halted by the scene.

  Paddy turned to see who had burst in. His son’s looked at him, trembling. There eyes asked the silent question “what has happened here?”. Paddy ran across to the three of them and they all embraced. Paddy escorted them outside. They embraced further before Paddy realised something.

  “Where is Isabelle?” He shouted loudly. In all the commotion and panic, he had put the baby down but did not know where. Everyone in the street started looking around but the baby was nowhere to be seen. One of the guards suddenly spoke up.

  “Look over here.”

  Paddy, Ted and the master of the guard ran over. The guard was pointing at the ground.

  “The imprint in the dirt looks like a baby was laying here.” The guard announced.

  “This is where Vera was lying.” Ted stated pointing at another imprint in the dirt.

  “I must have left her here whilst I was helping with Vera.” Paddy said. Then it dawned on him.

  “Someone must have snatched my baby.”

  “There are no trails leading to this spot.” The master of the guards noticed. “If someone did snatch him, they must not have had any legs.”

  Vera was within earshot and became hysterical again.

  “No legs….the boy said it had no legs…..the silly boy……told him to shut up I did.”

  Paddy ran across to Vera.

  “Who had no legs, Vera?” Paddy asked in a remarkably calm tone given the situation.

  “In the shadows……hiding in the shadows…….black.”

  “What was hiding in the shadows? Tell me, Vera.” Paddy’s tone was more forceful this time.

  “THE DEMON” Screamed Vera. The force of Vera’s scream sent Paddy jumping back with surprise. He stood there a moment reflecting on what Vera had said.

  Paddy turned to face Ted and the Guards.

  “Some sort of Demon.” He began. “The only thing I know of that has no legs would be a Wraith. But what would a Wraith be doing here and what would it want with my child?”

  “Whatever it is doing, we cannot let it leave. Block the gates. If it, or they, are still here we can hem them in.” shouted the master of the guard.

  The guards split up. Half ran to the west gate, everyone else, including Paddy, Ted and the Master of the Guard, went to the east. When they arrived they found all the gatekeepers lying on the ground. Their bodies were bloodied but not mutilated.

  “This was a quick and precise strike.” The Master of the Guard stated coldly.

  After a few moments reflecting on this new scene of slaughter, Paddy spoke.

  “All this has to have been a ruse. Whoever killed my wife only did it so viciously to distract us from their real target. They were after my daughter all along.”

  “But why?” asked Ted. What could they gain from kidnapping your daughter?”

  “I think maybe I can explain that.” The master of the guards stated. “Wait here, I need to go and fetch something.”

  He returned five minutes later carrying a parchment.

  “I received this early last summer. It is an announcement from the King.”

  It read:

  Attention all loyal guards

  Extra vigilance is required at this time as something is afoot. It has been noticed that denizens from the Cursed Isle have been raiding the mainland. They seem to be looking for something. At this time we know not what their agenda is. However, we do know that there has been a spate of murders and kidnappings. We must assume that it is a person they are looking for. If anything unusual happens, report to the palace with all haste.

  “I would suggest that we get the village cleaned up and then go and report what has happened.” Ted stated.

  “I feel that the sooner we set off the better.” the master of the guards agreed. “Tomorrow a group of my finest men will escort Paddy to the palace. There the day’s tragic events will be recounted and a course of action should be taken. The King respects Paddy and I believe that he will help.”

  “I would rather go tonight.” Paddy said. “To wait until tomorrow will only give the kidnappers a head start. We need to move now.”

  “As you wish, Paddy. I will organise the cleanup and your departure within the hour.”

  “Thank you. I am going to say my goodbyes to my wife.”

  Paddy could not bear to go back into the house to see his wife’s mutilated body once more. Instead he pushed open the door and sat on the porch with his eyes closed.

  “My Love,” He started, “every day we have spent together have been the happiest days of my life. You have given me love and enabled me to feel love. You were everything that was right in the world. It was a cruel fate that took you away from me. I want you to rest easy now. Do not worry about Isabelle. I will find a way to save her. She carries your spirit and I will have her back. I love you,
Maggie. Goodbye.” He closed the door, and walked away.

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