The Eulogy & The Keeper: Chapter 1

This story was inspired by a song called "Candlegoat" by the band Sunn O))). It's a creepy, drone metal/black metal song that has lyrics I won't even type here. Just look them up and you'll see how this first chapter was written. Anyways, without further ado, I give you the first fantasy novel being written by me...

Chapter 1

The world crept with a slowness that could be compared to a slug in travel. The moon, glowing bright red from the fire within, cast a cloak of darkened bloody color on the lands. All of the fields, all of the towns, the forests, the rivers; they all knew the color red.

Fires lit up like beacons in the night as one by one, town by town, city by city, the world known as Nemetos was preparing for nightfall. Another night in hell. Another night in which those who had been forced to enter this dreadful world were cowering in their homes, fearful of what the crimson moon would bring down upon them.

For this was the land of the dead or the imprisoned. The land in which the souls of terror walked free and alive. Flesh and blood of Adam and Eve were welcomed with open arms, their species required as slaves for the demons and creatures and evil men that were residents of Nemetos. A melting pot of demons and other unnamed creatures that no man had ever witnessed beyond the realm of Nemetos. It was here that these creatures dwelled in misery, hatred, and took it out on their prisoners and slaves. And yet, despite their pains, they were united by one glorious figure that held all of the darkness in his hands.

Belenus, the final living lord of the Void, the last king of a council of eight that had been supreme rulers in the Cosmos once upon a time, witnessed the moon’s ascent into the sky, his mind blank as he surveyed this, and the routines of his land. He stood in the tower of his refuge, the Crypt, as the humans had dubbed it. Belenus found their humor amusing; after all, it had not been more than a thousand years ago that Belenus himself had once been human. Now he stood above them as something more, something greater in soul. For their humor, he dubbed them as Adams and Eves. Their names made no difference to him; after all, humanity was the same no matter what face a man wore, or the color a woman’s eye bore.

Belenus watched as his guards, creatures dressed in pitch-black robes, their hoods drawn deep over their heads, marched in a two-line procession with torches in hand, their swords strapped to their backs. Their faces could not be seen, but the talons that clutched the torches were bone and nothing more. These creatures had no name; none that was given to them at the start of their creation, as it were. Belenus fondly called them the Dubaltach; the dark-boned. Their bones were often tattooed, or painted red. Sometimes the Dubaltach would mix colors of blackened ash and blood and slap it on, and let it dry so that it stained their bones permanently.

These tattooed and painted warriors, although calm in their movements, were the fighting heart of the Void; creatures of pure evil. They knew no other master than Belenus, and obeyed every word that came from his lips.

The Dubaltach stepped out into the courtyard, now drawing their swords. Belenus knew their destination; the town just outside of the Crypt. A town called Nomanski. Belenus felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lip as the Dubaltach strode into the town, knocking down the gate. Humans ran left and right in terror, and so did other enslaved creatures from other worlds. The Dubaltach cut down a few here and there, dividing up into small groups of two or three, entering buildings.

There was no real reason for Belenus to keep an eye on the slaves other than to ensure that they understood that there was no hope here in Nemetos. There was no peace. No peace, no love, no freedom. Their lives belonged to Belenus only.

The town slowly ran red with not only the color of the moon, but now the liquid running from the veins of Nomanski’s prisoners, running down into the small gutters on the sides of the streets. Belenus chuckled softly, feeling his spirits lighten for a change. Turning around, he found his Warlord Dubaltach, Sken, bowed down on one knee before him.

“Get up,” Belenus motioned for him to rise as he passed by Sken. Sken stood up and quickly followed behind at a safe distance.

“The portal is ready,” Sken spoke in a cold, rasped voice. “We have one hundred ready to go through.”

Belenus came to his throne and paused. He glanced back at Sken, “Make sure that you hit the city Resdra. We are going to rattle the Council hard. They won’t know what to do after we’re finished.”

Sken kept his hooded face low, but Belenus could see the dark orange eyes glowing from the depths of the hood. A small hiss of air escaped from the hood, and Sken spoke hesitantly.

“My lord, Resdra is a clan town. Many of the men there are trained warriors.”

“Many of them are also priests,” Belenus sat down the marble throne, resting his pale chin on his fist. The crisscrossing scars on his face made him a hideous sight for anyone to witness; Sken was not one to be tugged by mere emotion however; which was the problem with his words. Belenus did not find any faith from his warlord.

“You worry too much, Sken,” Belenus continued. “The humans are no match for the Dubaltach; why do you doubt me now?”

“I don’t doubt you at all, lord,” Sken replied hastily. “My concern lies solely with the Council. They know that we are pushing through their territories. Eventually we will be facing a war. I don’t know if we are strong enough now to fight-”

“Enough,” Belenus slammed an open palm down on the arm rest of the throne. “I grow tired of this. Sken, when I want your opinion, I will ask for it. However, I have not.”

“No, lord,” Sken went down on one knee again. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“Understand this,” Belenus leaned forward. “I want this war. I need this war. The Void is too dark, too cold. I need to feel the sun again. I need to be able to taste food, and not have it burn like fire as it goes down my throat. I want to see green fields, instead of red ones.” He stood up in his angst. “If you had seen the things I have seen on the other side, with a different eye, you would understand my haste, and my urgent desire to take what was rightfully mine, once.” Sken made no movement, nor did he speak. It was a wise move; Belenus now was in his own little world, seeing all that he was speaking about again.

He stepped down from the throne, marching around the room, spouting off as he went. “The Eight were once the most feared men ever born. Eight of us left our world, exiled for life, after what we had done to ourselves and others. Only one now stands. It has come to this then, that I must finish the job. The clans were once a threat; make no mistake about that. But now, they fight amongst each other, and they care little if one of their enemy clans has a raid on their towns.

“Consider the field, my warlord. They hate each other. So busy are they with their own civil wars, they have the Council more worried about them than us. If the council’s eyes are not on us, then what do you fear?”

Sken knew that is was his once chance for redemption. He waited a moment before speaking. “Nothing, lord. I will take my men to Resdra and burn the city. Not one stone will go untouched.”

“Kill all of the warriors and the children. Take the priests and burn them with the rubble. The rest; the women, the men who work as farmers and merchants, bring them here.” Belenus sat down at the feasting table where he ate every night. In front of him was a large goblet of wine, which he finished in a few swallows. He poured himself another glass while Sken waited, still on one knee.

“And Sken? Keep a weather eye out. If there’s any of the Council is present at Resdra, take their heads and spike them near the walls of the city.” He finished and dined; Sken did not move. After a few moments, Belenus finally glanced at him again, an annoyed look on his face. “You can leave now. We’re finished.”

“Lord.” Sken bowed, and went for the door. Belenus hailed to him before he could open it.

“Yes lord?”

Belenus hesitated for a moment, and then he said, “Not one warrior is to be left alive. Am I understood?”

Sken bowed again. “There will be none left with blood in his veins, sire.”

He left, the door shutting with an iron clang. Belenus went back to his post outside, watching as the town of Nomanski was turned inside out. The Dubaltach eventually finished, and then slowly made their way back to the Crypt.

Belenus smiled grimly. Once the Council saw what would happen to Resdra, they would know it was Belenus that was responsible; soon, they would face him again. This time, they would find a power of darkness that was far greater than the Eight had held together. This darkness was unchecked, uncontrolled; only Belenus could wield it.

The Void would soon give all of its secrets to Belenus, and soon, he would break out of this prison the Void had become.

And not a moment too soon; after countless centuries, soon, Belenus planned on setting foot in the Free Worlds. He would not be denied, nor would he give any quarter. This was war, after all, and the Council would be held responsible for the deaths of the millions and millions that would die under Belenus’ sword.

He smiled to himself, feeling the gloom that had been draping over his shoulders for the last few days clear up. Things were looking good. They would look even better when Resdra was razed to the ground.