The Keep

    Crackling lightning ripped through the permanent night sky of Mitternacht, one half of the world, and the rain sliced in like a weapon. Booming thunder failed to drown out the screams and howls of the various beasts that called this world home.

    A squat, young man with a round stomach that could sit a small plate atop it, looked out beyond the walls at the colossal, grey, and black castle. His springy, curly brown hair had become a thick mop in the rain. His oversized, hairy feet stuck out like little islands in the flowing water on the cobblestone street.

    The castle was immeasurably colossal. Bigger than any of the towns the halfling had visited, combined. Some said it was big enough to be its own small country. Candlelight flickered in some of the windows, but it was never lit up all at once.

    “Come in Ludolf, you’ll catch a cold in the rain.” The halfling looked around to see his mother, standing at the doorway, giving a smile. She looked just like him, except her hair was grey.

    “Hey, ma, look. Its Pankraz.” The little halfling ran to the doorway and watched as the local hero of the town walked by.

    A hulking mass of distorted muscles and mottled flesh, held together by bolts and stitches. Sparks of electricity danced around the life-giving metal pins. Grey skin and long, wispy black hair, loose green pants, and muddy leather boots dragged across the road. There was no shirt, but rusty plates of metal were fused into the torso to make armour. To top it all off, a hideous skull mask and rusty machete completed the abomination’s look.

    “Hello.” The voice low voice strained against useless vocal cords. The contorted structure of twisted science and magic turned to look at the little halfling and waved the hand that held his machete.

    Ludolf’s mother saw the beaming look on her son’s face and smiled. Pankraz had personally saved her just a year before from Crusaders. The Crusaders were powerful soldiers from Tageslicht, the light half of the world. They intended to purge the world of all corrupted life.

    “Hi Pankraz. Are you going to see the Baron?” Ludolf pointed up to the castle.

    “Yes. Important things are happening.” The hero of the town turned and continued up the winding path to the castle.

    “What do you think is happening?” Ludolf asked his mother.

    “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.” Her tone took a dark turn and she headed into the pokey house.

    “Why’s that ma?”

    “Hopefully you’ll never have to find out.”

    Cracking footsteps echoed through the room, drowning out the arcing electricity and bubbling vials.

    The room was a madcap series of abandoned experiments and unfolding, chaotic dilemmas. New research had been started before the scientist had even known they’d begun.

    Notes and scrapbooks were scattered throughout the grey, stone room. Pages were nailed to the wall, others hung from the roof with string.

    Flasks and beakers of all sizes were filled with all sorts of specimens, ranging from pieces of flesh, organs, and liquids of every colour known and unknown, were “arranged” throughout the room, categorized by their perceived usefulness.

    Hurrying about the lab was a tall woman, her springy, dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a stain covered white lab coat that had definitely seen better days, but she kept it for sentimental reasons.

    One eye looked healthy and did as it was told. The other was grey and darted about in every direction, as though it had a mind of its own.

    Following around behind her, being of little help, was a lumbering, pale, zombie. Bolts in its neck and forehead, it dropped as many things as it picked up. Its slack jaw meant it couldn’t speak, even if it wanted to, something that was intentional. It wore only a loose set of pants held up by a frayed rope.

    “By Flesh and Blood, can you please stop trying to help me. Ya know, I really wish I had stuck with the ‘til death’ part sometimes. Now, where did I put my notes on that elven fella?”

    “Irma, are you ready?” The sing-song voice floated through the air and Irma spun to see the Baron was standing in the doorway.

    His alabaster skin was always a stark contrast to the dark purple of the night sky. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, it barely ever moved, and he had a fine, pencil moustache. He wore black leather pants, shin high brown boots, a black undershirt and a long flowing, red coat. Its tails slapped the back of his knees and golden buttons ran down one side.

    “Yes Baron. I believe I can extract the information we need from this elven visitor. You, stay here. You’re the worst assistant I’ve ever had.” She pointed at the helpless zombie with focused frustration.

   “Come dear, I need my prime Biomancer to be in a good mood. You might make a small mistake if you’re not paying close attention.” He waggled a finger at Irma with a sheepish grin.

    “And I think that my Baron could improve his dental hygiene. Your latest meal is showing.” She exaggerated a quizzical look at his needle-like teeth. He covered his mouth and turned away.

    “You know, I don’t let anyone else talk to me the way you do.” A playful tone laced his voice.

    “I’m the best Biomancer you have, and we’ve known each other a long time, Anselm. Since before all this.” Irma drew a circle with a scarred finger around the Baron and ended by jabbing him in the chest.

    “Really, Irma? Using my first name?” The Baron raised a thin eyebrow as he questioned his old friend.

    “You use mine, why not?” Irma poked her tongue at the Baron and passed him to walk down the hallway.

    “By the way, Kroening is already there,” the Baron laughed.

    “Why would you let him there before me?” Irma stopped dead in her tracks, her voice a serrated edge.

    The electro-priest, the head of The Holy Lightning church, was a meticulous orc who loved nothing more than order, and torture. A man that constantly had the Baron’s ear in advice on all matters, often pulling the Baron away from Irma’s advice.

    “You must admit, he’s good at what he does. Remember what he did to that ogre Crusader the other week? His methods definitely cross the line of violence before he even starts, but you can’t argue his art.” The Baron could feel the anger seething from his old friend and knew he’d disrespected her. It was a mistake he’d feel for a while.

    “If I need time alone with the elf, you make it happen.” Still facing away from him, Irma started down the hall once again.

    Kroening, a gangly, tall orc, with mutton chop sideburns, was shaking with maniacal laughter. Though he wore cyan robes, his arms were high in the air, exposed. The countless bolts that covered his arms could be seen by all. Polished metal pegs adorned his neck like jewellery. His chest was uncovered, and two rows of bolts ran down his torso. Four huge metal prongs protruded from his back like metallic fingers.

    “You really think you can keep your secrets from me for much longer?” The orc readied himself to unleash another torrent of electricity into the hapless victim before being interrupted by the sight of Irma and the Baron.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    The prisoner was an elven man who was strapped down to a metal table. Large, round, purple splotches covered his body, and one eye was swollen shut.

    “There were never any secrets, you fool. I keep telling you this,” the elven man spat with rage.

    “And to what do I owe the pleasure of Irma’s company, Baron? I’m quite capable of extracting the answers I need from the visitor myself.” The three in the room ignored the calls from the elf.

    “Yes, but we need him alive,” replied the Baron.

    “Not really, no,” Kroening argued.

    “We do if we want the most cooperation from him. Extracting clear and concise information from the deceased is nigh impossible, you know that.” Irma rushed the orc and stuck her finger into his chest. The two snarled at each other, ready for any excuse to finally fight.

    “Now, now you two.” Both Irma and Kroening snapped a look at the Baron. His usual charming visage, however, was gone, and they both saw his cool, violent temperament was barely being held at bay. The two stepped away from each other.

    “I ask to be left alone with the prisoner, Baron.” Irma bowed as she spoke, all sense of formalities had now returned to her behaviour.

    “Kroening, take leave.” The Baron glared at the orc.

    “Bu-”

    “Did I ask?” Kroening slumped and exited the room.

    “I’ll leave you with our dear guest, Irma. If you learn anything, I want you to inform me. Immediately.” Irma bowed again and watched as the cruelty left the Baron’s eyes. He dipped his head ever so slightly and left the room.

    “Now, what will your flesh and blood tell me?” Irma snapped her body to face the elf and a too-wide grin crept upon her face.

    “Please stop!” The elven man writhed and turned his head away from Irma. “I had no intention of keeping anything a secret. That sadistic orc refused to listen to me. He insisted on torturing me.”

    “So, you’ll tell me what I want to know?” Irma eased her face and walked around the other side to face the elf.

    “Of course.” The elf finally opened his eyes. Irma could see there was fear beyond anything Kroening could’ve done.

    “Make it simple, so I can easily convince the Baron to listen to me.” Irma untied the straps around his wrists and legs. The elven man sat up and gingerly tested the injuries over his bodies.

    “I assume you know us elves are a spacefaring race.” A statement rather than a question.

    “We’ve had visitors once before. About three, no four hundred years ago. Nobody stayed.” Irma chuckled. She had been there with the previous visit. What the elves had seen in Mitternacht terrified them.

    “More like they were driven out. With hospitality like this, I can see why.” The elf shuddered as he shuffled into his coat.

    “Get to the point,” Irma snapped.

    “My point is nobody heeded their warning all those years ago. I’ve come on my own, against the recommendations of my people, to warn this place once more.” A grave look transformed the elven man’s face.

    “To warn us about what?” Irma lifted an eyebrow.

    “Us elves have been on the run from a great entity for millennia. We seek worlds to both inhabit, and to offer them our technology and knowledge, in exchange for their help with building up an alliance to face this threat.” Panic had seeped into the elf’s voice.

    “And?” Irman raised an impatient eyebrow.

    “This being, which has no name, has many followers. We call them Reavers. Made up of many factions, races, tech, and magic from throughout the entire cosmos. They invade planets and if that planet won’t join them, they destroy it and leave.”

    “So what yo-”

    “I have it on good intel, in less than two years, your planet is in line to be invaded by the Reavers.” A slight shift of relief washed over the elven man’s face. “The orc never even let me say that much.”

     “Kroening won’t listen to anything if it interrupts his fun. So, if this invasion really is happening. What do you suppose we do?”

    “With elven technology, we can bring this world up to speed to stand a chance against the Reavers. Then, you pledge to help us in our conflict.”

    “Not going to happen.” Irman and the elven man whirled around to catch the Baron standing at the door, leaning against the frame. An amused look on his face, however, Irman caught the deeper violence hidden within his eyes.

    “But your world is in danger. We can help you survive. We just want you to help us is all,” pleaded the elven man.

    “No. I won’t have my people owing you a grand favour to use whenever you like.” The Baron waltzed into the room.

     “Surely you wouldn’t put your entire world at risk just because of owing us a favour?” The elven man approached the Baron.

    “You’ll save us, and we’ll become attack dogs for the elves?” The Baron smiled, showing his teeth.

    “In a way, yes. But you’ll be safe from the Reavers. You’ll live to see another day.”

    “I can assure you; we can resist this invasion without your help. Now go, I’m feeling rather thirsty.” Laughter erupted from the Baron as the elven man fled the room.

    “Not meaning to be rude, but do you think its wise? I don’t doubt we aren’t powerful, but a planetary invasion?” Irma looked at her old friend with concern.

    “Tageslicht have made some surprise advancements in their magic and technology. If they got their hands on elven technology, they could wipe us out.” The Baron’s smile had faded now.

    “But we’d have the tech too.”

    “I’d rather they don’t have any access to it. Besides, I’m not allowing my people to be locked into some cosmic debt because a few elves can’t defeat their enemy. We’ll be fine.”

    “Anselm, are you really willing to gamble all of our lives because of your pride?” Irma levelled a finger at him. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help defend our people, but I’m worried this could be a fight we may not win.”

    “Irma, Irma, Irma. My dearest, oldest friend. I’ve known about things out there in the cosmos for centuries, even before the elves had us in their sights. I’ve had a plan for a long time. What do you think I’ve been busy with for all these years?” The Baron let out a sigh and walked over to a window.

    He watched as outside, Pankraz lumbered through the gates. The great paladin was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. He was Kroening’s most powerful creation.

    There were reports that Tageslicht were mounting a fresh attack, and that this was going to be their biggest one yet. They had that to deal with, before the Reaver invasion.

    “How do you know about what’s out there?” Irma asked. It had been the first time the Baron had ever mentioned goings on outside of their own world.

    “How do you think I became this?” he asked. He pointed at his fangs.

    “I’ve got no idea.” Irma gave him a confused look. Anselm had been the first vampire in their world, and she had never questioned it.

    Once, a powerful, noble knight. He commanded the High Queen’s army and vanquished many beasts and enemies. But something had happened, and he disappeared for a long time, assumed dead.

    Upon his return, he had changed into the powerful creature he was now. He brought with him the eternal night, which sheltered the many afflicted beasts and powerful monsters from the Crusaders.

    With it, the night split the world in twain, with Mitternacht and Tageslicht, and the two sides had been at war ever since.

    “My gift, was given to me by a powerful source from out there.” He lifted a finger to the night sky and Irma looked at the twinkling stars.

    “What happened?”

    “I was given this powerful gift. I still don’t fully understand what’s expected of me in return.”

    “Are we on a leash for something else already?” Irma asked incredulously.

    “Who knows?” The Baron laughed.

    “What kind of bargain did you make to be given your powers?”

    “One of a kind. I want to show you what I’ve been working on for the last few centuries. Come.” The Baron rapidly clapped twice, snapping Irma to attention.

    “Is Kroening coming?”

    “Oh no. He’s served his purpose for now. He can delight in torturing someone else.”

    The Baron led Irma down into the endless depths of his keep, deeper than she knew even existed.

    “Where are we going?” Irma asked as they descended another set of crumbling stairs.

    “We’re almost there,” the Baron chuckled.

    At the bottom of the stairs, the Baron opened another rickety door and Irma felt the rush of radiating heat wash over her body. The long dark corridor grew brighter and warmer as they pressed on. Irma realised the walls and floor were no longer brick, but a strange pink and purple, flesh-like substance.

    They finally reached a grand antechamber. The flesh was now crisscrossed with blue veins and Irma watched with fascination as the flesh undulated in a hypnotic rhythm. The walls and roof were covered with the same flesh. A column stood in the middle of the room, and within the writhing flesh was a pulsing, red sphere.

    “Is that a heart?” Irma asked, enthralled.

    “Beautiful, isn’t it? The heart of my keep.”

    “Your keep is a living thing?” Irma approached one of the fleshy walls and slowly extended out a hand.

    The flesh warped and wrapped around her hand. Painless at first, it suddenly pulled Irma into the wall. A million needle points at once, draining her of her life.

    She felt the cold hands of the Baron before she let out a scream, and she felt the flesh pull and strain her body.

    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It isn’t a fussy eater. Are you alright?” The Baron looked into her eyes, concern on his face.

    “Anselm, what is this?”

    “This is how I protect us. From Tageslacht, and from whatever is out there.”

    “How much does this thing consume?” Irma’s eyed were wide as she tried to make some calculations.

    “So far, everything we’ve killed, seems to be enough. Often, I must come down here and give it myself. Its…voracious.” Irma watched as the Baron’s eyes sparkled in awe as he looked upon the heart of his castle.

    “And if that’s not enough, what’s next?”

    “Then we finally destroy our enemies, and take the fight out to the cosmos. We won’t ever be left alone. From The Cleansing Flame, the elves, the Reavers. Many other things out there. We were rejected by people on our own world. Many others will seek to destroy us.”

    “As long as our people are safe.” Irma’s commanding tone shook her to the core.

    “Irma, we’ll be okay.” The Baron turned to his friend for a moment, then turned to the heart.

    “When will it wake up?”

    “Very soon…”