Young Writers Society

Chapter One

Wind whipped through the branches of the nearby willow trees.

Erick glanced up at the night sky, the moonlight bright as ever, the stars like sentinels guarding heaven itself. His two companions stood silent behind him. They were brave to have accompanied him to this forgotten corner of the world. Truly, they would have been good friends—had they been his equals. Erick did not have the luxury of friends. No—they were loyal, he would give them that. And perhaps they would be granted permission to keep their house titles in his new empire. But friends? Never. Not once in his life had he been so fortunate as to find an equal amongst the nobility—someone he could call a friend. Someone who could truly understand the way his mind worked.

Erick stood on a small hill overlooking a flatland of trees and swamp. The breeze danced around him, flipping his cloak in a rhythmic pattern. The stench of the bog filled his nostrils as the wind passed, threatening his gag reflex. He controlled the urge—no need to show weakness.

Hundreds of trees lined the entrance to the swamp, their long and pliant branches swaying with the wind. Willow’s Marsh—at last, the forgotten forest stood before him. His dedication and perseverance over the past three years would soon pay off.

“You desire to press on, my lord?” Gibraltar asked. “The path through the swamp will be treacherous.”

The question sounded like more of a plea from Gibraltar—a plea to not go into the swamp at night, a plea to avoid risking his life. How pathetic. Perhaps he wouldn’t be keeping his title after all. “Of course, you fool,” Erick answered in his deep, gravelly voice. “We knew the path would be treacherous before we set out on this venture. We either go in tonight, or wait another month. We know the instructions—the waning moon of the third day only lasts one day. Or did you fail to grasp that before?”

Gibraltar paused, then answered, “I’m sorry, my lord, it won’t happen again. Excuse my lapse of judgment.”

Erick simply nodded, noting the apology. He didn’t accept apologies—or rather, he didn’t grant forgiveness. No, for the men who believed themselves above the commoners, he had no pity. But he needed allies—if only for a little while longer. The only two men who answered his call stood with him tonight—the revolutionary chieftains from the regions surrounding Sellidel, the capitol city of the empire. His father’s empire. The empire his brothers fought over. The empire he planned to take from them.

“Come, then, lords of the court. Let us take our destiny out of the hands of those who would control it.”

Erick walked down the hill toward the forest swamp. No need to be nervous. No need to show fear. He had an air of omniscience, an air of command, which led his disciples to follow him without question.

The willows swallowed them as they entered the darkened forest. Light from the moon and stars failed to reach the men as they journeyed further into the thick trees. Careful to follow the path from the map, Erick led his companions to the heart of the marsh—to the lair of Hellser the Immortal.

The group neared a light in the distance. The only light for miles, save the torches in their hands. A thatched hut with a single window stood squeezed between three thick willows. Erick paused before approaching, confused. There should have been a guardian at the entrance, but he couldn’t sense anything . . .

“This is the resting place of Hellser the Immortal?” Fratican asked. “This lowly hut?”

Of course Fratican would ask something like this. He, who was raised in lace, was fed with lavish excessiveness, and who trod upon the poor, taking even the little they had. “Naturally,” Erick replied, hatred churning in his gut. He stepped toward the door. “Did you expect a palace?” He strode to the door and opened it after knocking a single time.

Something tackled him from the side, throwing him several feet from the hut. Erick felt something pierce his side and sink deep into his flesh. It ripped free as he hit the ground, and the beast that tackled him rolled away. Dazed, Erick tried to stand. He could vaguely hear the screams of his companions, who drew their blades, preparing to defend themselves.

A screech to his left startled Erick from his stupor, and he glanced over. Some sort of spider the size of a horse had tackled him. He felt where the spider stung him—a massive bump caked with ooze had already formed. The enormous beast reared on its hind legs and let out another screech, smacking its pincers. Erick rolled to the side as the beast charged, its hairy legs grazing him as it passed.

He stood up, drawing his rapier. Blood trickled down his side, soaking his shirt and trousers.

No need to feel fear. If this was the test he had to pass, then he would pass it.

The beast charged again. Erick rolled on his shoulder and slid under the spider as it passed, slashing his thin sword in three quick successions with mastered precision. The beast rolled to the ground as both of its hind legs were cut free.

Erick arose, advancing on the spider, sword at the ready. The beast tried to stand, leaning forward to compensate for the loss if its legs, but stumbled head first to the ground. Erick stabbed it again, sinking his sword into the same spot he’d cut on the beast’s abdomen. The rapier sunk in deep, and the beast screamed, piercing the night with its cry. Erick twisted his rapier, causing the beast to shriek louder. A quick thrust, and a groan from the beast, then all was silent.

Wind whipped through the branches of the willow trees.

Eirck pulled his sword from the body of the spider and wiped it with a bloodstained rag.

“There’ll be more where that came from, gents. I suggest we get a move on before more show up,” Fratican said, walking toward the hut.

Erick held out his sword, the flat of the blade resting on Fratican’s chest. “There’s another way in, Fratican. My guess is it’s around the back.”

“You intend to go through with this, then, my lord?” Gibraltar asked, peering around the clearing in anticipation, holding his sword aloft. “There is no coming back after it is done. Once he takes out your heart . . .”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Erick said softly. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”