The Fall of Arnon

Chapter 25

Father Thomas dodged a cart careening down the road. Mud splattered over his robes as a loud cry sounded behind him. He turned to see the young prince sprawled out in the street in a pool of mud. Jumping up, the boy cried out after the fat donkey trotting quickly down the street that had been the cause of his demise, but the creature simply passed on out of sight, even as the insanity around him grew louder.

Covered from head to toe in mud, Lerendo turned to face the amused priest. "What?" He cried above the hubbub of the street.

"Ah, I was only thinking of the things our minds turn to even when we are faced with the present reality of our own deaths." He smiled happily and turned, walking quickly through the angry mob. A tomato squished beneath his feet, its juicy contents spreading across the cobblestones. He looked down and saw the bright red color wash down into the slime of the street.

He turned down a side street, coming face to face with a large group of grimy, little boys. They rushed him like a group of hungry wolves and similarly to a group of hungry wolves, they began jumping about him, howling. For the first time in a very long time, the old man laughed. Not a small, minuscule laugh, but a laugh that comes from the soul, loud and triumphant. He laughed until his sides hurt and he gasped for good, glorious air. And, all around him, the air sparkled with the joyful tinkle of merriment. Everywhere about them cries of anguish rose, but for one moment, one beautiful, wonderful moment, little boys from five to ten years old, a young prince, and an aged priest, laughed.

Pressing on, they dodged through lesser known streets and down empty alleyways.

"Where are we going?" Lerendo asked as they came to the edge of the city.

"We need supplies," the priest answered. "So, we're going back to my home."

"Supplies for what?"

"Supplies for the battle, my dear boy."

He trotted off at a good pace and passed beyond sight. Lerendo shot off after him but was impeded by an object, knocking him back a step. The object continued moving beyond him, even as he turned to shout after it. The sight of black cloth flowing out behind it caused him to stop. A cascade of blonde hair fell down its back and its comely form floated out of sight. All words were stuck in his throat, so he could not yell after the retreating figure.

"Come on, Lerendo. Now is not the time for sightseeing." The priest had come back to retrieve the dumbfounded young prince and drag him off.

Finding the gate locked and guarded, Lerendo took the lead and led them out through the exit he had shown Sir Ryan only a day before.

Summiting a hill, Lerendo could see the valley stretched out before them. It was a sea of green and white. White Lilies wove in and out among the tiny blades of grass and together they swayed as one in the light summer breeze. The small place the priest called a home looked so minuscule in the vast valley. Its homely wooden panels were overhung by shingles aged long past their prime. Two simple beds of flowers lay on either side of the steps leading to the front door. A small pasture of luscious green connected its long wooden boards to the side of a small barn. In it, two horses galloped, whinnying happily at the world around them. Lerendo smelled the sweet air of the valley and for a moment, everything was alright in the world.

Far in front of him the form of the old, hunched priest skipping down the hill causing the prince to smile, a wistful, longing smile. Then, with a bound, he followed and found himself falling head over heel through the sweet-smelling turf. He landed at the bottom, his laughter ringing down through the valley. He brushed himself off and rose.

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Sir Ryan placed his hand upon the door, consternation filling his body. Life seemed to pulse through this cabin in the middle of the woods, but from where that energy flowed from was more of a mystery to him than ever before.

With a creaking sigh, the door let go and flew open. Light drifted inside the darkened interior. He stepped inside and immediately, a coldness filled him. All around him was all the necessities for a happy home. Bright curtains, a sturdily built fireplace, chairs that were sewn from the most beautiful material money can buy, but unlike the initial appearance, Sir Ryan could feel the presence of something sinister lurking behind the flowery curtains. And like a black spot on a white rug, a large, black book had been placed carefully atop the complex carvings sculpted into the wooden table in the middle of the cottage.

To this, Televtale walked. His white face studied the table then turning, he to motion to the knight. Sir Ryan followed and found himself staring at a kind of ancient script carved deep into the table.

"What is it?" Televtale whispered. He reached out tentatively and began tracing the runes.

"I don't know," Sir Ryan touched the cold wood and felt the rise and fall of it against his fingertips. The scrawlings swirled and looped themselves around the streaks of darker wood. Sir Ryan could only imagine what dark inscriptions lay in the unreadable lettering.

To the black book, he then turned his attention. It was large and intimidating, but he lifted it and set it down in front of them. With a flick of his wrist, he threw it open revealing a slew of much the same writing as on the table. As he flipped through it, lines  of the same could be seen page after page.

"Wait, what was that?" Televtale stopped his hand and moved back to the page before. He pointed to the drawing that stared back at them. A picture had been etched into the fibers of the page and it gleamed as if it had only recently been painted. Sir Ryan felt a shiver wriggle up his spine as he stared at the ghastly image there portrayed. It was painted in black and white. A woman, not much older than twenty, he would have guessed, lay upon her back. Her face was contorted in agony. Her dress pooled down between her legs and through the fabric a large pool of blood, as red as a rose, could be seen. In her arms was a creature. Its body was that of a baby boy, but his face had taken on what Sir Ryan could only describe as that of a demon's face.

"What does it mean?" Televtale asked. He was staring at the picture with a horrified fascination, the same Sir Ryan felt.

"Whatever it is, it's not good." Quickly, he closed the book. "We need to get out of here. I don't know what this place is, but I've felt it ever since I entered. There's something here. Something evil."

"Yes, sir. I felt the same thing. But, what about the man?"

"What man," he asked distractedly.

"The man you saw the last time you came here. You said you saw him and then everything suddenly just went black."

"I don't think he is here." He looked around, but there did not look to be any doors leading elsewhere. "And, I think we may thank God for that."

"But, then, what was the point in coming here?" asked Televtale, the boy so full of questions Sir Ryan began to wonder how he didn't explode in that dungeon all by himself.

"This is the point." He picked up the book and placed it deep into the folds of his cloak. Without another word, he rushed out of the door. As he looked back once more at the sunlight through the leaves and the green grass sparkling beneath it, he breathed a sigh of relief. The Forest of Arnon may be a place filled with an anger and a deadness he had never felt anywhere else, but there was something real about it.

The rain had let up by the time they exited the forest and a dreamy mist lay over the miles of open land. To their right, far away the sun slid slowly behind the Treacherous Mountains, spreading out in a sea of red and orange. Slowly, it faded until the land was again drenched in darkness and Televtale, Sir Ryan, and a book of unknown origin travelled back to the City of Arnon.

And, just as night fell on Arnon, a small light sputtered to life. It exposed three faces all huddled around its flickering flame. The wood beneath was old and rotted and the room smelled of must.

"It began sooner than we expected," The one said.

"It will end sooner than they expect." The second replied

"Then, I suppose this is it. It has begun." The third smiled gleefuly.

"Yes, it has begun."