The carriage wheels bounced over the muddy road, sending loud clacks into the night. The man inside the carriage looked out of the small foggy window at the landscape in front of him. A strange mist hung over the air, but it somehow seemed familiar to him. It forced him to recall the dark times in his past. He shuddered and pulled his coat tighter. He forced the strange feeling to the back of his mind as his large manor came into view.
“Griegor, make haste,” the man shouted to the driver outside, “I miss my family.”
The driver smiled, Lord Ravencroft was always looking out for the common people, especially his family, “You don’t need to ask me twice, my lord.” Griegor smiled, he was always pleased to serve his master.
Ravencroft laughed, “I told you to call me Thomas, about what? A thousand times now?”
Griegor looked back at the man through a small window, “Any man who saves a gimp of an orphan from starvation deserves to be called ‘Lord’, my lord.”
Ravencroft nodded, that day was one he’d never forget. A starving child with a broken leg was left to die in the streets, but Lord Ravencroft wouldn’t let that happen. Death was something he embraced a long time ago, but since the day he met the fair maiden waiting for him in the manor, he had changed his ways. She brought out the best in him, and he in turn tried all he could to help others.
“Here we are, my lord, the Ravencroft Manor,” Griegor pulled the carriage to a stop and hopped down from his perch. He turned to grab his crutch from his seat and then hobbled to the carriage door, “Looks like you got a visitor,” he smiled at Lord Ravencroft.
Thomas swung his carriage door open, his black cloak flapping about him. A large smile crept onto his face.
In front of him was a small girl in a white dress. She held her hands behind her back, nervously twisting side to side. Her head was tilted down slightly. Lord Ravencroft could see her sneak looks at him from time to time.
He stood up straight and put a stern look on his face. He held a rugged stare at the girl, his eyes like piercing daggers.
She snuck one glance up at him. As their eyes met, Lord Ravencroft did the unexpected.
He stuck his tongue out.
The girl laughed and ran to him, jumping into his arms. He picked her up and swung her about. They both laughed into the night sky.
“Samantha, my dear, I have missed you much,” he squeezed his daughter tighter in his arms.
She let out a grunt, “You’re squishing me.” She tried to wiggle away.
“If you leave now, you won’t get your present,” Thomas raised his eyebrows at her.
Samantha gasped in excitement, “What is it!?”
He set her down and turned to Griegor, “Griegor, my daughter’s…”
“Already got it, my Lord,” He handed Lord Ravencroft a small wooden box.
“Thanks Griegor, you’re always one step ahead.” Thomas took the box from Griegor, and he gave a slight nod.
Thomas turned to his daughter and pulled the lid from the box. He knelt down and revealed a white doll.
Samantha squealed and went to grab for it.
Lord Ravencroft pulled away slightly, “Careful dear, it is fragile.”
She slowly reached for it and cradled it in her arms, “Is this from France?”
“It is, one of the finest. I missed you so much, when I saw it in the shop I thought of you immediately, and I had to buy it,” He stood back up and started to usher her to the doorway. He turned to Griegor who was already unloading the carriage. “Take the bags to my room, if you will Griegor.” The servant nodded, and Lord Ravencroft turned back to his daughter.
“What do you say tomorrow we go down to the river and have lunch?”
Samantha took a second longer to admire her doll before turning to her father, “Can we bring mom and the baby?”
Lord Ravencroft laughed, “Of course we can, and the baby is still in your mom’s belly. I think the two of them would have to come together.” He chuckled to himself, “I can even teach you how to fish.”
Samantha’s face lit up, “Really?”
“Of course, my dear,” He put his hand on her shoulder, “but for now, young ladies need to sleep. It is late.”
Samantha nodded.
“I will come give you a bedtime story after I see your mother.”
Samantha pulled on his sleeve until he bent down. She pulled his ear near her mouth and whispered to him, “Careful, mom is angry. I got mud on my new dress and she was not happy.”
Lord Ravencroft chuckled once more, “Don’t worry, I will talk her down, or die trying.”
“Thanks dad, you’re the greatest,” Samantha cuddled her doll once more before ascending a flight of stairs to her room.
Thomas watched her run off and let out a sigh, a month was a long time to be away.
She disappeared over the stairs, and Thomas turned to a passing maid, “Where is Maryanne? I wish to see her.” The maid curtsied, “She has been in the infirmary, my Lord. There has been flu about, and she has been treating the sick.”
He nodded at the maid, “Thank you, Heather.”
She smiled that he remembered her name. She had served other Lords and Ladies, but the Ravencroft manor was by far the greatest place she had been too. To her, it was Heaven on Earth. Her last lord used her as toy for his dark affections, but here she was treated like a person, like a human. This made her cherish every moment here. This truly was her home. She realized she was daydreaming and quickly curtsied again and continued about her duties.
Lord Ravencroft walked briskly through his manor, making several twists and turns, passing several rooms, before he made it to the infirmary. A red cross was painted on the outside of the door. He pushed his ear to the door when he heard voices, and then a bright white light shown through the bottom of the door.
He began to slowly push the door open and peek inside.
He saw a woman in a beautiful white dress standing over what looked like one of the peasant girls. A bright white aura gleamed from her hands, and the sickly looking girl soon turned healthy. Her eyes shot open and she sat up.
Lord Ravencroft recognized her as the blacksmith’s daughter. She was soon to be wed to a farmer on Ravencroft’s land. The two were teenagers in love and he promised the blacksmith to throw a huge celebration in their honor. It was the least he could do for his hardworking people.
Most Lords looked down on him for his kind treatment of the lesser people. Back before he met Maryanne, he was the same way as them, if not worse. His dark arts required many subjects and in a way, he felt his kindness to his people was a way to atone for his wickedness.
The peasant girl’s voice broke him from his trance, “Thank you Lady Ravencroft, you have a gift from the heavens. That you do. I pray for you always.”
The lady in white smiled, “That I do, but what good is a miracle without those to work it on,” she put her hand on the girls head, “And I look forward to the wedding next month, to be wed, that’s exciting.”
The girl nodded profusely in agreement, her voice full of excitement, “That I can’t wait for, and you and the Lord are most generous, paying for a wedding fit for a queen.”
Maryanne lifted the girl to her feet, “It is the least we can do for your families.”
The peasant girl’s eyes shot to the doorway. She blushed, “Looks like you have a visitor, my Lady.” She pointed to the door.
Lord Ravencroft opened the door fully and stepped in, his black cloak flapping about him.
The peasant girl ran to the doorway, sliding past Thomas. She stopped as she was about to exit the door, “And don’t worry, my Lord and Lady, your secret is safe with me. I believe god has sent you here to save his people.” She smiled and ran out into the hallway.
Lord Ravencroft shut the door and turned to his wife.
She sat on a stool facing him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She radiated with a heavenly glow. If beauty could be described, all the words in the world would pale in the presence of this angel. He stood a while longer staring at his wife before she spoke.
“You should close your mouth, Thomas, your drool will ruin your shirt,” she smiled and stood, holding her protruding belly with care.
He quickly snapped from his haze and helped her to stay on her feet. She rubbed her back while still smiling at her husband, “He should be here anytime now.”
Lord Ravencroft’s eyebrows shot up, “Him? How can you be so sure?”
“I can heal even the most mortal of wounds, but you think I don’t know what’s inside my own belly?” She took a step back in playful defiance, “Hmm, seems you don’t know me after all, ‘Lord’ Ravencroft.” She started to chuckle when Thomas gracefully looped his arms around her and pulled her tighter. He quickly pressed his lips to hers passionately, and he slowly moved his head away from hers and smiled.
“I guess you do know me,” Maryanne’s face grew a bright red as she turned her head away.
Lord Ravecroft spoke up to break the silence, “About your healing though. You should exercise more care of how you use it. Not many are open to embrace such a powerful gift.”
She raised one eyebrow at him, “I am not afraid of the death that those ‘god’ praising heathens will bring.”
Lord Ravencroft moved closer, brushing the skin that shown on her shoulder and leaning in to her ear, “Yes, but I am afraid of a life without my love.”
She began to blush again. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by shouting out in the hall, followed by some loud crashing. The door burst open, and several men armed with swords entered the infirmary. They had dirty white tabards over their leather and chainmail and their faces were full of dirt and grime. Their skin matched the locals of the Mediterranean countryside. Their swords were drawn as they stared down the couple in front of them.
Lord Ravencroft stepped forward, placing himself between them and his wife, “What is the meaning of this? I demand an answer or you will all suffer…”
His wife put her hand on his arm and pulled him closer to her. He took a glance back at her. She shook her head and whispered, “Don’t give in now, you have come so far from the dark.” Lord Ravencroft nodded and turned back to the rugged men.
A nasally laugh came from the hallway. A man entered the room wearing the same garb as the others, but he was cleaner and more composed than the other men.
“Or suffer what? Might I ask?” He leaned forward a bit, waiting for a response from Lord Ravencroft. He then straightened himself out again and took a few more steps into the room. “We are men of the cloth. We are blessed by the heavens and god himself. I doubt we will suffer anything. To say otherwise would be heresy, my good ‘Lord’.” He added emphasis on the last word of his sentence, creating a mocking tone.
Thomas spoke up, “You know my name well, but I have not yet had the pleasure of knowing yours, and why you have stormed into my manor in such a violent uproar?”
The lead man held his pointer finger in the air, “Ah, yes, how rude of me. My apologies I am Hector Valamose, captain of the Guard of the Church in this land, cousin to Archbishop Valamose.”
Lord Ravencroft’s eyes widened, “His land neighbors mine, and he was the one who granted me this land in the first place. Why would he have reason to send his lackeys here?” Lord Ravencroft directed the comment at Hector, hopefully to anger him in a subtle way. He could tell it had its affects.
Hector bit his lip a little at the comment and remained silent for a moment, he then spoke, “The Grand Duke has his reasons, but we are here for your wife, good sir.”
Lord Ravencroft looked back at his wife with worry and then back to the guards.
“Yes, Lord Ravencroft, Lady Ravencroft has been found guilty of witchcraft in all its forms, and is placed under arrest of the church.” Hector pulled his sword and gestured at his men.
They moved in and grabbed at Lord Ravencroft, trying to surround him and Maryanne. He kicked at the first attacker, knocking him off balance. The second guard grabbed out for Maryanne, but Thomas drove his fist hard into the man’s face. The third guard took this as an opportunity and grabbed Thomas from behind. Thomas tried to struggle to get free as Hector walked up to him.
Hector raised the hilt of his sword high and crashed it down on Thomas’ face. Soon darkness filled Thomas’s vision and he slumped to the floor.
The Archbishop sat in his lavish office staring out his window. The night was young and his cousin should be back at any minute now. He had sent his cousin to take Lord and Lady Ravencroft from their home and bring them here. It was under false pretenses of course, Lady Ravencroft was no more a witch than he. No such thing as magic existed in this world, only power. And the church had power, lots of it. Anyone who tried to stand in their way was soon deemed a heretic and put to death.
He gave a large smile as he thought about his plans for Ravencroft and his land. He only wanted the land, but to do that he had to get rid of Ravencroft and his family, and he had devised a plan just for that. It didn’t take much thought though. He was a high member of the church and he could do almost anything without question, as long as he kept his superiors’ pockets lined, they could care less of his ventures. And with the death of his father, all the Valamose land had been granted to him. He now held wealth and power, the two building blocks of society.
The door burst open and a cleanly dressed man in a white tabard entered the room.
The Archbishop’s smile faded, “What did I tell you about knocking, Hector?”
Hector gulped hard, “Sorry cousin.”
The Archbishop coughed and gave Hector a hard stare.
“I mean Archbishop.”
The Archbishop smiled and waved his hand for his cousin to proceed, “I believe everything went well then?”
Hector nodded and moved into the chamber, “He put up a bit of a fight, but the boys and I delivered as promised.”
The Archbishop thought his cousin’s nasally voice to be quite annoying, but the guards loved his company, and they gave him their respect and loyalty without question. While the Archbishop was off learning the ways of the church, his cousin was climbing the ranks of the local guards, and he made many friends along the way. This was the only reason the Archbishop kept him around, his “Likeable” nature with the commoners.
“They are awaiting you in the cells, Archbishop.”
He nodded and began to stand.
A woman soon entered the office with two small boys, “Archbishop, your sons wish to see you before they retire for the evening.”
The Archbishop nodded at the woman, she was his wife, but he did not care for her. It was an arranged marriage, and she had given him two strong boys who would take his place in the future. They would keep his legacy alive. He would mold them into his own figure. They were all that mattered to him in this world because without them, his legacy would die. His wife was merely just a tool for his future.
“Ah, Gregorio and Paulo, my strong boys, have you read your bible verses yet?”
The boys nodded in unison and smiled, “Have a good night father.”
The Archbishop nodded to them, “I will see you in the morning for prayer,” he pointed his hand at the boys, “Do not be late.” He looked up to his wife, “Make sure they are ready on time, I have a trip planned for us tomorrow. We will be traveling the countryside.”
She nodded and took the boys out of the room.
The Archbishop’s smile faded. He let out a small sigh as she left. It was hard work putting up with the woman, but a least she knew her place. She knew it well, he made sure of it.
“Let’s meet the Ravencroft’s, shall we?” He pointed for Hector to lead the way.
They moved through the old castle’s twists and turns, heading down several flights of stairs before they made it to the prison cells at the bottom of the castle. It smelled of dung and blood and other disturbing smells the Archbishop did not much care for. It was a place unbefitting of god’s chosen.
Hector held out his hand to the cage the Ravencroft’s had been placed in. Lord Ravencroft was holding his wife in his arms, whispering into her ear while stroking her hair.
The Archbishop coughed to get their attention, “How is Lord Ravencroft this evening?” He gave a slight chuckle at the man in the cell.
Lord Ravencroft stood and moved to the edge of his cell, “What do you want Gregorio?”
The Archbishop’s face became sour. He turned to Hector and gave the signal. No one called him by his first name, no one.
Hector waved several of the guards to move into the cell.
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Maryanne moved up to Thomas back side and spoke softly into his ear, “Don’t give into the dark, my love. You have come so far and done so much for this world. Take care of Samantha for me.”
Lord Ravencroft fought the urges inside himself to use his dark power. The woman in front of him knew that if he used his dark gifts, it would consume him fully. All he could do is keep his word to her.
He turned to her and she gave him a smile and then kissed him one last time before the guards stormed the cell. They pulled Maryanne from his hands and pushed him back to the ground. Thomas screamed at the guards and tried to get back up. Hector moved his way into the cell and kicked him back down. Hector then shut the cell on him, locking the man back inside the metal cage.
The Archbishop smiled a devilish grin, “Take her out to the pyre, the people are waiting for a good witch burning. It will fill their heats with the glory of our savior.”
The men nodded and began to drag off Maryanne. Thomas stood and ran to the edge of his cell. He reached his hand out to her. She gave him one last smile and spoke up, “Goodbye, my love.” She soon was pulled up the stairs and out of view.
Thomas started to shed tears as he slumped up against the metal bars. He turned to the Archbishop, “Why? Why did you take her? How did you know that she knew magic?”
The Archbishop bellowed out in laughter, “Magic is not real, Lord Ravencroft.” He started to laugh again, “The only reason I took her was for your land.”
A confused look took over Thomas’ face, “My land. That is what this is about.”
The Archbishop smiled, “Yes. My men have found a rare deposit of silver under your land. My plan was to rid the land of your family and round up your people and use them to mine this silver for me. And I couldn’t just barge in and kill everyone, that’d be too noticeable, even for a man in my position. By using the Church to my advantage, I can rid myself of you without blame. And with all the wealth I will accumulate I will become more powerful than ever. It is quite simple really.”
Rage started to build up inside Thomas, “Greed. Greed is why you are to kill my wife. Greed is why you will ruin all the lives of my people.”
The Archbishop nodded, “Simply put, yes.” The Archbishop gave another devilish grin, “And soon, you will be taken back to your land and hung in front of your manor, with the rest of your house. This will keep the people in line while we occupy your land.”
Thomas looked the man in the eyes, his hate and sorrow were running high, “A most terrible fate will befall you.”
Hector took a step back. A dark shiver moved down his spine. He could only see hate in the prisoner’s eyes, but somehow he knew the man wasn’t lying.
The Archbishop just bellowed out into the prison, “I am a man of God, Ravencroft, nothing bad will become of me. I am blessed by the Heavens themselves.” He then quickly turned and strode out of the prison, “I would love to stay and talk, but I have a burning to attend to and people to swoon with the grace of God.”
Hector gave an uneasy look at Thomas. He did not know that his cousin was such a bastard of a man. This was not the work of God. He just followed the orders like usual. “I’m sorry,” he quickly spoke to the man in the cell and then left just as fast as the Archbishop.
Lord Ravencroft slumped down on the ground. He could see the night sky out of a small metal barred window in his cell. He could hear shouting of a crowd followed by loud screams, the screams of a woman that carried an unborn child. Smoke rose into his view through the window, shadows were cast about by the flames light.
Soon the screams stopped.
Lord Ravencroft’s head slung down to his chest. Tears started to fall to the ground below him. He had lost his love.
Lord Ravencroft sat in the enclosed cage that was placed upon a cart. There was one driver and two guards on horseback, one of them being Hector, escorting him back to his manor where they would hang him and the rest of his house, including his daughter.
Hector was quiet the whole ride. He sat atop his horse staring off into the distance. The other two guards wouldn’t stop talking with each other. Their banter was that of uneducated men.
The driver spoke up again, “I hear that we gets free pickins of the town. Can’t wait to see the women there.”
The rider laughed at the large man, “I hear the blacksmith’s daughter there is quite the looker. I’ll share her if you want.” He laughed at his own comment. He was soon joined in laughter by the large driver. Hector still sat quiet on his horse.
Lord Ravencroft glanced over at the rider. He would see this man dead, even if it killed him. He thought of using his dark powers. It would be easy to kill them all. It’d only take one word. The last words of his wife rang through his mind though. She did not want him to give in, but if he did nothing then everyone he knew would die.
Lord Ravencroft pondered his predicament when something strange happened. Hector spoke.
“I need to take a piss, lads, pull over.”
The fat driver looked back at his officer and nodded. He glanced at the rider and shrugged. He pulled the cart to the side of the road and jumped down off his seat, “Finally you speak up Hector, thought you might have caught something.”
The rider dismounted and joined his large friend, “Likewise, I was worried about you.”
Hector dismounted his horse and walked up to the men. He nodded to them and gave a faint smile. He then pulled his sword and slashed at the rider’s throat. Blood quickly spurt out at Hector.
The rider pulled his hands up to his neck and fell to the ground. The fat driver’s face turned to horror, “Hector, what have you…” Hector then drove his sword deep into the fat man’s chest, piercing his heart. The fat man soon fell to the ground, joining his comrade in a pool of blood.
Lord Ravencroft stood in the cage. He couldn’t believe what had happened.
Hector moved to the back of the cage and pulled the keys from his belt. He unlocked the door and waved Thomas over to him. He helped the prisoner down from the cage and took a few steps back.
Lord Ravencroft went to speak, but Hector held his hand out, stopping him from doing so. “I have done many things in my life, many evil things, and sinful things. None of them ever made me think of where I would go when I died, I thought them all to be for God, but last night, when an innocent woman was burned alive, I saw a sadistic look on my cousin’s face. Then I realized where I’d go once my time was up.”
Hector pulled a knife from his boot and held it up to his neck, “Man is not supposed to live this way. And now, in front of you, and God, I will atone for my sins, just like the son.” He pressed the knife to his neck and paused, “Go and save your family and your people. You deserve more than that, but I’m afraid that’s all I can offer.”
Lord Ravencroft nodded and looked away. His fists tightened up into balls.
“And make sure my cousin finds his way into hell. I will be waiting for him.” Hector then slid his knife across his throat and fell to the ground.
Thomas went to Hector’s horse and pulled a blanket off. He moved over to Hector’s body and covered the dead man. He shut the dead man’s eyes, “You will find your way into heaven, Hector, and your cousin will soon meet his hell.”
Lord Ravencroft quickly ran over to the rider-less horse. He climbed the beast and took one last look at the dead man. Hector had given hope to Ravencroft in a dark time, he had saved Thomas from using his dark powers, and for that, he was thankful.
Thomas then dug his heels into the horse, speeding off down the road to save his daughter and all the innocents about to be wronged.
Lord Ravencroft made it to the edge of town before the beast beneath him gave out and crumpled to the ground. Lord Ravencroft pulled himself up from the dirt and put his hand on the creature’s head, “Thank you for your service.” The beast thrashed about on the ground. He then slit its throat with a knife to quicken its passing.
Thomas just needed to make it over the next rise, and he would be in the small town that serviced his countryside. Each step up the hill was painfully slow, but he had made good time and the hanging wouldn’t start without him there. He could still save everyone.
Lord Ravencroft made his last steps up the hill and gazed across the small town that led to his manor. A terrified look spread across his face.
Small fires still raged in the town but most of it looked burnt to the ground. He could make out dead bodies across the streets and hung from building windows.
“No,” he whispered to himself as he started to run into town.
He passed the bodies of the people he knew and loved, but one caught his eye more than the rest.
The blacksmith’s daughter was lying in the street, her clothes cut from the front of her body. Her naked legs spread apart with a look of horror placed across her face. Next to her he could see the farm boy she was supposed to wed. His belly was cut open and he still had a pitchfork grasped in his hands. He had tried to save his lover, but was cut down by the trained guards.
Lord Ravencroft started to weep. Just short of a month they would have been the happiest couple in town but their lives were cut short in brutal, senseless, violence.
His head shot towards his manor. His daughter could still be alive, no, she must still be alive. He took off down the muddy road, running with all his might.
He stopped and slowed to a walk when the manor came into view. The left wing was burned to the ground. Bodies of his servants were scattered across the yard and stuck on pikes.
“Samantha!” Lord Ravencrfot shouted into the air as he ran up the steps.
He was stopped by a body he knew well.
The maid Heather was propped upon a spear, blocking the entrance to the manor. She had loved this place like it was her home. She made it her home with her love, and even in the end, she gave her life to protect it.
Thomas lowered the woman to the ground and shut her eyes. He would give her a proper burial in the family cemetery as soon as he had found his daughter.
He stood and bashed through the semi burnt door, knocking it to the ground.
The stairway was gone. It had been burnt then crushed by a falling support beam from the roof.
Lord Ravencroft looked around frantically. He had to find a way to his daughter’s bedroom.
A small moan caught his attention. It was coming from the dining room to his right. He burst through the doors and looked around. He saw Griegor slumped in the corner. The man moaned again.
“Is that you? My Lord.” He said faintly, trying to turn over.
Thomas spoke out as he approached him, “Yes, Griegor, I am here.” He moved closer to the man.
“I tried, my lord, I tried so very hard. I tried. I tried.”
“Tried what? Griegor?” Thomas got closer to the man.
“I tried to save the young Lady.”
Lord Ravencroft knelt down and turned the man slightly. The right side of his body was burnt to a crisp. His flesh was charred and bone was visible through some of the wounds.
Lord Ravencroft turned his head and fought back tears.
“I could only manage to save this,” The man slightly held out his burnt arm.
A small blackened doll sat cradled between his arm and his body.
Lord Ravencroft looked at the doll and shouted in anger. He stood and punched the wall next to him. Wood splintered about, and the sound of bones cracking filled the silent manor. He started to cry. Tears filled his eyes and fell to the floor. He knelt down and pulled his hands to his face.
The quiet voice of Griegor interrupted his pain, “I also saved this, my Lord.” The half burnt man pushed a book out from under his good arm and slid it under Thomas.
Lord Ravencroft looked through his tears at the book. It was one he had used well in the past. Its binding was tan, the same color of human flesh, of course, it was human flesh.
He wiped his tears away and patted Griegor on his good shoulder, “Always one step ahead. Now rest, my friend.”
Griegor nodded and closed his eyes, breathing his last breath.
Lord Ravencroft stood and held the book up in front of him.
The last words of his wife were to not give in to the dark magic. But now, everything was gone. His wife, his daughter, his life was now destroyed by greed, the greed of one devilish man.
And soon that man would meet the devil.
Lord Ravencroft cried his final tear and stormed out of his manor and into the muddy road. He looked at the setting sun. It once was beautiful but now it was just another thing his family would go without.
He pulled his knife out again and stabbed it deep into his hand. The pain was immense but he ignored it. He smeared his bloody hand over the cover of the book. His blood was soon soaked into the cover, and it opened to the very page he intended to use.
In his youth he was afraid of this page, but now he had nothing to lose. Fear was nothing to him.
Thomas started chanting the ancient language of the book, a language lost to man. The winds around him started to pick up. Dark clouds filled the sky. Ravens began to circle around him, perching all around the burnt manor, trees, and corpse pikes. An eerie green magic started to pour out of the book and surrounded Lord Ravencroft. He rose into the sky several feet as he finished the last sentence of his incantation.
A deep raspy voice filled the air. It would have melted lesser men, but Thomas was not afraid.
“Will you give your flesh for revenge? Lord Ravencroft.”
Thomas had no second thoughts, no doubts, “Yes, give me the power over death. Give me the power for revenge.”
The dark voice was silent for a second, and then it spoke, “So be it.”
Lord Ravencroft was soon thrown to the ground with tremendous force; mud splattered outward, and he felt his body break in several places. The eerie green magic then surrounded him, and the ravens began to fly down at him and started to eat away at his flesh. He was powerless to move or defend himself. His blood was drained from his body and pieces of skin, including his right ear, fell from him and were consumed by the ravens.
The green magic then shot out into the sky and the winds died down. The ravens soon dispersed back to whence they came. The sun had set and darkness soon gained control of the land.
The half decayed body of Lord Ravencroft lay on the ground lifeless.
For several moments the air was still, until his arm soon rose from the ground. He could feel his broken hand but there was no pain.
He sat up and looked at his mangled body. To others it was hideous, but to him, it was beautiful. It was life anew.
Thomas stood and looked back to his manor. A familiar body started to shamble out of the front door. A crutch was braced under its charred arm.
Lord Ravencroft spoke up as it came closer, “Griegor, welcome back.”
The walking corpse nodded, “It is nice to be back,” it looked down at the crutch and then tossed it aside. It took a few steps without it and looked Thomas in the eyes, “My leg no longer feels pain,” he moved his charred arm without hindrance, “I no longer feel pain, Lord Ravencroft.”
“That is no longer my name, Griegor. That man has died along with his family.”
Griegor held his head with pride, “Then what am I to call you?”
A raven flew from the manor and landed on the necromancer’s shoulder, he looked at it, then back to Griegor, “Call me, the Raven.”
The Raven the turned to the town and strode with his head held high. He took a deep breath through his half a nose, “It is a new day. It is a good day for revenge. Don’t you say so, Griegor?”
The former man nodded.
The Raven then raised his hands into the air and chanted. A purple mist soon spewed from his hand and raced across the town and manor, snaking through doorways, weaving in and out of windows, until the whole town was consumed by it.
Soon the dead started to rise and move to the Raven. The blacksmith’s daughter rose and pulled her lover from the ground. They linked hands and moved with the rest of the crowd.
The Raven saw the maid, Heather, pull the spear from her chest and use it to stand up and move to join his side.
He could feel all their pain and sorrow, as well as their lust for vengeance.
He smiled.
A horse soon came to his side. Its throat was slit, yet it still let out a terrifying neigh into the night, blasting clumps of blood from its throat.
The Raven climbed atop it and turned to the direction of the Archbishop Valamose’s castle.
He turned side to side, grinning at his followers, his teeth showing through his cheek, and waved his shambling mass forward.
The Archbishop sat in his office, sipping his goblet of wine with a large smile on his face. Something had happened to Hector, and he did not arrive at the Ravencroft manor on time, so the Archbishop thought it was fit to sack the place before anyone saw through his plan.
It was a minor inconvenience. His plan had still succeeded, and he would soon be rich with silver, rich with pride, and most important, rich with power.
He took another sip of his decadent wine, smiling all the while.
A commotion outside caught his attention. It sounded like some sort of yelling or squabbling. He stood and smirked, it was probably the guard having a few drinks to celebrate their success today. The Archbishop had seen them do some terrible things to the townsfolk, but it was necessary for his advancement. When men were granted free passage into Heaven, that’s when they were most capable of evil.
The Archbishop had still not heard from Hector, or the guards he was accompanying. Maybe they were drinking to the return of their captain. It wouldn’t hurt to look.
The Archbishop made his way to the window. He wished he could drink to his success, drink away the night, but for now, drinking to the fruition of his plan was enough. His quest for power would soon be in motion. When he had acquired all the silver, then he would drink aplenty.
The Archbishop finally made it to the window and swung open the curtains. He hoped to see the shambling of drunken men and the cheers from their friends, but instead, he saw the shambling mass of peasants and townsfolk, even some of his guard, and the screams of those they overtook, and cut down.
Fires raged throughout the Archbishop’s city. People were fleeing left and right, trying to escape the horde. He could see his guard fight valiantly, but they were outnumbered. Something seemed strange about the mass of people. The Archbishop could not put his finger on it.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. This was no time for lulling over paltry matters. His life was at stake here.
The Archbishop rushed to his desk and started grabbing important papers. He lunged for a chest nearby and threw it open. He quickly grabbed a few knives and attached them to his belt. He pulled out a small sword and unsheathed it from its scabbard. He took a few practice swings and set it on the desk nearby.
“Steward! Fetch the carriage and my sons! We need to flee this place!” The Archbishop continued to throw things back into his chest, including the deed to the Ravencroft land. He looked back up to the doorway, “Steward! I must get help from Archbishop Fellatone! His army will quell this heresy!”
The Archbishop looked around one last time at his office. He was forgetting something. He quickly spotted a small bag on his desk. It was full of gold coins, coins he would need on his journey across the countryside.
He grabbed them and smiled. He took another look at the doorway and began to yell, “Steward…” He paused as a dark figure stood menacingly in front of him.
The figure entered the room.
The Archbishop let out a sigh. It was none other than his cousin, “Hector! Come, we must flee this place.” The Archbishop gave a puzzled look at his cousin. He seemed exceptionally pale and void of expression.
“Hector?”
A strange dark laugh came from out in the hall. A most hideous creature came into view.
The Archbishop gasped and fell backwards, catching himself on his desk. It looked like it was human, but it was missing flesh and appendages that would have killed most men, “What are you? Spawn from the devil?”
The thing stepped closer, its unnatural aroma made the Archbishop gag.
“You can call me the Raven, good sir,” the Raven moved even closer to the man, his green eyes piercing the Archbishop’s soul.
The Archbishop turned to Hector, “Kill it Hector, kill it now. It is the spawn of the devil!”
Hector stood still. His ears were deaf to the pleas of his cousin.
The Raven laughed out, “He is not your cousin anymore.” The Raven pulled the scarf from Hector, revealing a throat split open from side to side, “He is just a husk to hold my dark power now. I could have returned him to this body, but he redeemed himself in my eyes.” The Raven smiled, his blacken teeth shown through the side of his cheek.
The Archbishop took this distraction to strike. He grabbed the short sword from his desk and plunged it into the Raven’s heart.
The Raven screamed out in pain and slumped to the floor. He reached up to the Archbishop and gasped. His arm soon fell limp and he lay on the floor, lifeless again.
The Archbishop let out a sigh, but his relief was short lived.
The corpse laughed again and stood in front of the Duke. He pulled the sword from his chest and tossed it out the window, “Anymore tries? I’ve got all night.”
The Archbishop quickly started pulling the knives from his belt, one by one, and stabbing them into the creature in front of him.
As the Archbishop plunged the last dagger into the creature’s chest, the creature stood up straight, “Enough!” Its scream bellowed deep into his mind, rooting terror in every inch of his soul. A shockwave of wind shot the daggers from the Raven’s chest and blew out the candles that lit the room. The flames were soon replaced by green fire and an unearthly glow covered the room.
The Archbishop cowered back, “Why are you doing this? I am a humble man of God.”
The Raven spoke up, fury imbued in every word, “Why did you kill my wife? My daughter? I would have given all the silver in the world for you to let them be. But greed took ahold of you. Your sins are why I am here.”
The Archbishop stuttered in terror, “T...T…Thomas…Ravnecroft?”
The Raven smiled, “That man is no more. He has died, and the Raven has taken his place. Unfortunately for you, you burned the wrong Ravencroft that night. I was the one who held the dark power, and now it has been used to exact my revenge.” He pointed out the window and across the city. “As you slaughtered my village, they slaughter yours.”
The Raven snapped his decomposed fingers and three figures appeared in the room behind him.
The Archbishop was even more terrified. Two small boys accompanied by a woman stood in the room. They were just as disfigured as Hector, covered in bite marks and lacerations.
“And as you killed my family, I have returned the favor to you.”
The Archbishop began to weep, “Boys…”
The Raven took a step back, “Go ahead. Say hello to your father,” The Raven then took his leave as the screams of the Archbishop filled the castle.
The Raven let a smile creep onto his face as he paraded into the night.
The Raven stood alone in a nearby field. His horde was still sacking the city, screams and fires still raged on. His work was done. He could rest easy now, but a force beyond his control urged him to continue on and devour the whole country, even the whole world. Take revenge on the church and all the evil doers he could find. All the murderers, thieves, rapists, and extortionists would soon find his wrath upon them. The feeling urged him to turn them into his followers and show them true light. The propelling urge was getting harder to fight, and he just about turned back to lead his horde when a bright light blinded him.
He opened his eyes and saw a sight he thought he would never see again, his wife.
She floated above the ground in a white aura. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, and even his un-life.
She floated closer to his mangled body, smiling at her husband. She reached out her hand and touched him, his skin becoming whole where she touched. “Thomas, look at what you’ve become. I warned you about your power, and now it has taken hold of you.”
The Raven stood as his urge left him. The touch of his wife had made him realize what he had done. He turned to the city and raised his hands. The moans from the city soon fell silent and he turned back to his wife.
“I’m sorry Thomas, but I have to do this,” She held out her other hand and started to circle him with her white magic.
“Take me with you. I have done wrong, I know that, but all I want is to be with my family.”
She shook her head and turned back to where she had appeared.
The Raven looked as sadness overtook him. She was soon joined by a small girl and boy, his daughter and unborn son.
She spoke one last time, “I told you the power would overtake you, and now we can no longer be together. I’m sorry Thomas. I love you,” she looked side to side, “We love you.”
The Raven screamed out in anger, “No! Don’t leave me again,” he shot out his hands and tried to climb out of the aura, but it started to drag him underground. He tried clawing and lashing out at the ground to get out, but it was no use. He took one last glimpse at his family before he was dragged deep into the ground, and a soft sleep soon overtook him.
A jumbo airliner screeched overhead and landed at the nearby airport. Lights flashed all over the airstrip and engines deafened those too close to them. Passengers unloaded from their flights, all unknowing of what was happening in the field nearby.
A purple mist started to ooze from the ground, followed by green sparks of electricity erupting from the soil.
A hand emerged from the ground, clenching to the grass above for support. Soon another arm emerged followed by a mangled head. It looked around at the unfamiliar world. The creature’s head turned at the sound of footsteps.
A man with a white suit and an eye patch over his right eye, approached him, holding his hand out for the creature to take, “Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend.”
The Raven grasped his hand and pulled himself up to the surface, glimpsing at the blue skinned man behind the man in the white suit.
The thing stood and breathed through its half a nose, “She is here. My Samantha is here. I can feel her.”
The white suited man with one eye smiled with a devilish grin, “She is, and I can help you find her.”