Join
Davis as he leads us down an ever-darkening path, wherein we learn not only the identity, but also a bit of the past, of the murderer we met in Part 1 of this shadowy tale! In "
A Grey Beginning - Part 2", you can witness the birth of a villain who will eventually threaten to topple all that is Crown in the Wandering Men's upcoming novel,
Skein of Shadows! Join us again on the 10th of September when Davis will continue to draw us deeper into the shadows!
The dark form passed through the night, his macabre prize tucked under one arm. Deliciously warm against him, the skins offered a great promise. That night, he would set into motion plans that, while taking many years to complete, would lead not only to his ascendancy in a new chaotic world, but would bring mighty power once more to his enigmatic master. He would have to be patient, of course, for plans of this magnitude took time to weave. His first act this night was but a small beginning; there were other, far more important tasks which lay before him. Though many were perhaps years away, there was one task that was required of him this very evening. A wicked grin spread across his bizarre face as he contemplated his next task.
Passing down one dark alley after another, he made his way through Crown, precious cargo in hand, until he reached a derelict stone building that had in earlier days served as a tannery. He stepped into the small courtyard to one side where great wooden vats stood on large iron carriages. Once filled with lye and used to strip the skins of fur and putrefied flesh, the cauldrons were now empty, save for a vile scum settled in the bottom. Half-decayed mounds of dung and animal brains remained towards one corner. The once horrific smell of the operation remained permanently seeped into the stone and bare dirt of the yard, enshrouding the entire place with a muted reek.
The creature of darkness stopped beside one of the semi-rotten vats and peered towards the end of the courtyard at a small shed. A burning candle could be seen through the small window, sending shadows dancing about the tall walls and casting a sphere of light several yards out. His quarry was inside waiting for him, ignorant of his intent. Setting the foul skins against a wall, he stepped lightly to the building and opened the door.
"You are late," said a cold, wicked voice as he entered.
He bowed in submission. "I have been at work this evening," he replied.
"An excuse you have used too often," replied the voice as its owner stepped into the light.
Before him stood a demon, a fiend named Miruthlak who had survived the suppression of the Demon Scourge several years earlier. He was powerful as those of his kind reckoned it, but his powers had waned when the cursed ethereans rose up and ended the reign of his elder brothers. For years the demons had run amok in Crown, working in their chaotic way to establish a dark dominion on the pitiful mortals of the city. Yet they had failed and those few who remained were but a shadow of their great strength.
Miruthlak stepped near to him and raised a clawed hand out expectantly. When his guest did not move, his face clouded, "Did you not bring the orb from the Shadow Walkers?"
"I did not," he replied.
"And why?" asked the demon angrily.
"Because I shall no longer deal with them."
"It is not your choice to make, Sirklalak!" roared the demon, taking him by the shoulders.
Pulling free, he sneered. "I am no longer your toad," he growled.
The demon raised himself to full height and spread his wings, his eyes blazing with fury. "I am your father and you will do my bidding!"
With inhuman reflexes, Sirklalak drew a dagger specially fashioned for him and, ducking under the demon's grasp drove the jagged blade deep into his father's belly. In one swift motion, he drew it upwards into his chest and into the beating heart. Foul blood sewed out and the demon's eyes widened in pain and surprise. The assassin shoved the dagger completely into the demon's chest until the pommel disappeared in the gore. He then reached out and grabbed Miruthlak's neck, drawing the dying demon's face to his.
"I am no longer your son and do not serve the demon lords," he whispered into the fiend's ear, "Sirklalak is dead and with him your plans. My name is now Szeethe, and my master is the Grey God who wields real power."
He stepped back and spat in his father's face before drawing out an empty skin and collecting the draining blood.. He would add it to his collection, which for the present would be stored in the great vats outside. In time, when they were filled, he would move them to the heart that awaited below Crown. When finished he stepped from the body and smiled grimly. His master would be very pleased with this night's work...
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