Willem finished on the face of the prostitute and fell back on the bed, panting. It was a long way to the city of Erhan, and he and his brother, Baldwin, had to get some rest. The brothel was the only inn available (and they fostered no hard feelings about it). Getting up, Willem saw that his brother was still playing with his girl. He got his clothes on; paid his fee; and passed his brother, who was fondling the prostitute's breasts, saying, "Remember tonight."
--
“We shouldn’t be here,” Baldwin said, pale with fear, “need I remind you of the tales of this place? Grandmother always said this place was haunted and that once every Winter Solstice dark worship takes place.”
Baldwin’s brother, Willem, gave out a laugh, “Pay no attention to the stories, and stories they are, mark me, that grandmother once told.”
Color partially returned to Baldwin’s face. Baldwin, being the younger brother, always looked up to Willem as a source of wisdom, but this time he was not so certain his brother was correct. “Not just grandmother, Willem, the old Master Unwin wrote the same things that grandmother told as tales,” Baldwin put forth.
Both Baldwin and Willem are scholars. They have dedicated their lives to the knowledge of the history of the land that they live in. Both are clean-shaven, as they are only students. It is only the Masters who can grow out their beard, and when they do, it grows out to their belt. Students only become masters when their hair turns gray. The brothers' hair showed no signs of grayness, their brown hair still shown with pride. Their master is Unwin, who is known as the greatest living scholar of the age. The Emperor himself put him as his Steward for he knew of the great wisdom of Unwin.
There was a pause from Willem for some time, then he spoke, “Master Unwin is wise in many respects, but blind in others. There is no such thing as a haunted place. The dead are dead. No man in all of Kor has ever seen a dead man walk, so would you, dear brother, let the dead rest!”
“But what about the dark worship!” Baldwin said, with his eyes widened, “Master Unwin says the same about it. Grandmother said when she was five she saw men dressed in dark clocks come down this very crypt!”
“There were probably just some young people, like you and me, wanting to cross the boundaries of the rules that Masters, such as our very Unwin, set,” Willem said with conviction. “See, brother, we are scholars! And as scholars we must, from time to time, get out of our books, and scour through the old ruins ourselves. This is how we put forth new knowledge and legacy.”
Baldwin fell silent. He did not know how to respond to his brother. Baldwin had no reason for himself to believe anything unusual about this crypt. And yet, a dark shadow fell over his heart.
The two brothers descended into the crypt. They spoke no words to each other. The only sound heard was the pounding of their boots on the stone steps. The light from the moon and stars began to fade until they reached the bottom of the stairs and it was all black. Willem lit a torch and the brothers saw the expanse of the crypt. It was an intricate layout with one central tomb site with side passages and tombs. Although it was dark, the brothers at the center of their vision, about 100 yards in front of them, could make out the central tomb of the crypt.
The brothers continued forward slowly. Willem hovered the torch over the tombs that were tucked away in the ways to their left and right. They were the tombs of the Kings of Condor before the Conquest of the Empire. Long ago, there was no Empire in the land of Kor, but independent kingdoms and principalities who were in constant war with each other. Condor was the greatest of the kingdoms with the most land and the most wealth.
“Look brother,” Willem said, breaking their silence, “this tomb is of Gryfflet, the last independent King of Condor.” Baldwin looked over at the tomb. It was not like the other tombs. This tomb was simple, the others had ornate carvings with writings in a tongue that Baldwin knew not.
“What a sad fate for a King,” Baldwin said in a low voice, “perhaps if after the Conquest he accepted the rule of his new Emperor his tomb would be as grand as the halls he sat in. Now he has the tomb of a common man.”
Baldwin went silent. His thoughts came to Master Unwin and his rules. “Don’t you ever go to the Tomb of the Condor Kings. Dark place that is,” Master Unwin always commanded. A great fear came over Baldwin. He did not want to end up like the last Condor King for breaking the most central rule that Master Unwin placed. This new fear of being stripped of this status as a scholar of the Empire overcame the fear of the place itself.
“Such is the price of treason,” Willem said, startling Baldwin from his thoughts. Willem gave out a laugh, “Don’t lose yourself in the dark, brother.” Baldwin gave out a smile to levy the situation.
The light of the torch moved away from the tomb of the last king farther into the crypt, but Baldwin stayed at the tomb. His smile faded quickly into a frown. His thoughts returned to Master Unwin. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. They were small, quiet footsteps as if someone was trying to sneak up on him.
Baldwin turned around. His hand hovering over a knife on his belt. He was not skilled as a warrior, but he had no fear of using a blade to defend himself if he had to. From the corner of his eye, he saw the light of Willem. He knew it was not his brother playing a trick on him.
“Who goes there?” Baldwin said as confidently as he could. In his heart, he was nervous, but he knew that he had to make himself confident.
Then, something touched his foot. His foot jumped upwards. He saw from the little light that was in the room that it was a small creature: a rat. Baldwin let out a sigh and then he started to laugh quietly.
“A rat!” Baldwin laughed, “Oh how I am glad to see a rat! Never have I ever thought that I would be glad to see such a creature. The gods do surprise me every day with their humor.”
“Baldwin!” yelled Willem, “come hither!” Willem was at the end of the crypt at the central tomb.
Baldwin calmed himself down from his laughter. Never would he let Willem know what had transpired with the rat. Baldwin reached the tomb and it was the most ornate tomb of them all. A statue of a king was carved inside of the wall. Sapphire jewels laced the edges of the tomb.
“The tomb of the first King!” Baldwin exclaimed, “this is a tomb fit for a king. Do the Emperors get this treatment when they die?”
“I have never seen a tomb like it, brother. This means that we should never report our sightings to the Emperor,” Willem said, with a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face.
“Hold, brother,” Baldwin said, “Give me the torch.” Willem’s prideful face changed to a confused one, but he did not question his brother and handed over the torch. Baldwin looked more closely at the wall. Around the statue, he found carvings etched into the wall. “Writing, there is writing on the wall!” Baldwin explained.
Willem looked closer at what Baldwin was examining. “Yes, this is writing,” he said slowly, half to himself and half to Baldwin. “Not just any writing, dear brother,” he said with excitement, “The writing is in the Common Tongue, but in the script during the time of the Conquest.”
“That does not make sense. This is the first King it should be in an ancient tongue,” Baldwin said with his mouth open, as if to speak another thought.
“Yes, it does not make sense,” Willem said. He went deep in thought. After a moment, he grabbed the torch from Baldwin and hovered it over the tomb. He began mumbling to himself, but Baldwin could not grasp what he was saying.
Willem turned himself to Baldwin and said, “Perhaps the writing is recent… Yes, the writing is recent. Maybe to record some knowledge before the first siege of Erhan.”
“Then it must be especially important if they etched it at the tomb of the First King,” Baldwin put in. “You must read it, brother.”
“Yes,” Willem responded, “I must… I will read the writing. Let us see what secrets the old kings were hiding from us scholars.”
Willem searched with his eyes until he found the beginning of the script and read out loud the inscription, “In the age before the sun, Darkness ruled over all of Drakor. It was a land of the night, host to nameless beings.”
Willem paused reading and asked Baldwin, “Age before the sun? I have never heard of such an age in my studies. Have you encountered such an age, brother?”
“I know about the age before the sun as much as you,” Baldwin replied, “All the ages that I know of are the ones Master Unwin lectured about. Master Unwin always said, ‘The First Age was when the world was new and no man walked upon it. The elves lived there until they faded away and now are just wisps in the wind. The Second Age was when men were new. They formed their own kingdoms and raged war against each other. The Third Age was when the Empire conquered all the land of Kor and brought order to the realms of men and peace was found for the first time since the Fading of the Elves.’”
“You know you’re lore well, brother,” Willem said, “but it seems that even the wise do not see all ends. Was there an age when the sun was not?” Willem pondered for a moment, then continued to read, “Then the Fire came and covered the Shadow. Some nameless beings took up the Fire and became living beings. Few found the source of the Fire and became gods, ruling with justice and order. Others took up Fire and became beings ruled either by violence or peace. Lastly, not to be forgotten, some took from the last of the embers and became human souls.”
“This goes against centuries of the scholar's research,” Willem said after he finished, “and as you noted the writing is recent. Clearly, all of this is nonsense, brother.”
“Perhaps,” Baldwin responded faintly, his eyes fixed upon the writing on the wall. “But, something tells me that this is true. A hint over my heart.”
“Hint?” Willem said. Willem was always frustrated over his brother's fascination with the tales, but this time he felt his brother had pushed the boundary. He continued, “You need more than a hint to make it be true. We have scroll after scroll, codex after codex, from Blachernae to even the archives of Erhan, that show that this is all nonsense!”
Baldwin sighed, “I know. I should think with more reason. Perhaps, this is just some graver looking to waste the scholar's time, but the text reads as if it was ancient.”
“And our texts are also ancient,” Willem reminded Baldwin, “and the texts are clear. The gods have always existed, they are surely not from some fire from the sky above.” Willem spoke in a half-mocking tone.
“Yes, but…” Baldwin said, but Willem cut him off.
“And we are also assuredly from the forges of the gods, and not some mere embers!” Willem was almost screaming.
“Calm down, brother. This is still a crypt,” Baldwin said, giving a sharp eye to his brother.
“You’re right,” Willem sighed. “I must not get angry when the scholarship, our scholarship,” he put in, “is in question.”
“Continue reading, brother. Let us see what more foolishness this inscription brings us,” Balwin said. He was trying to please his brother because, even though he had no reason to believe it, the shadow that fell upon his heart as he entered the crypt returned, and he desperately wanted to know the truth: about this crypt and the world around him.
Willem laughed, thinking that he had won his brother over, “Yes, and I hope we get a good laugh for the rest of this illustrious history of our world.”
He continued to laugh, much to the annoyance of Baldwin, but after some time Willem gained his composure and continued to read off of the wall, “Of course, not every being took up the Fire. They were formed in the Dark and as creatures of the Dark, they hated the Light. And now even these creatures have a name. Some will say they are still around. This is knowledge: fear the…”
Willem stopped reading and a silence fell. “Well?” Baldwin spoke up, “fear the what? What are we supposed to fear?”
“Nothing,” Willem said after a while, “nothing.”
“What do you mean, fear nothing,” Baldwin was shocked. He was ready to accept the inscription, but now it disappointed him. “That is utter nonsense,” he added.
“No, not nothing,” Willem said, “I mean, that does not say what to fear. Someone erased the word from the wall.”
Baldwin was confused. He yanked the torch from his brother's hand and hovered over the wall until he found what his brother was saying. It was true, the word was scratched off of the wall. Hope returned to Baldwin that this inscription was authentic.
“I find the notion of fearing something that you do not know about more terrifying than knowing the monster you’re supposed to be afraid of,” Willem said. A light came to Baldwin's eyes. He was pleased to see that perhaps his brother was changing his ways toward the inscription.
“Yes,” Baldwin said, “if this was some joke played to prank scholars, why would they scratch out a part?”
“You are right, maybe there is more to this inscription than I first gave credit to,” Willem said. Baldwin turned his head from his brother and gave a smile.
“I see some more writing after the scratched-out word. Can you read it?” Baldwin asked, regaining eye contact with his brother.
“I can,” Willem said, “First, give me back the torch,” Willem asked, but he did not wait for Baldwin’s response and instead took the torch back. “The inscription finishes off by saying, ‘Heat is Cold. Life is Death. Light is Dark.’”
Willem finished reading and there was silence. Both of the brothers were trying to uncover what the inscription meant, but the rest of the inscription, which was as bizarre as these phrases, kept coming back to them. Baldwin moved his face out of the light because all the thinking made his head ache and the light of the torch made it far worse for him. For a second in the darkness, he thought that he saw a shadow moving distantly in the cold in front of the crypt; he shook his headband. It disappeared. “My mind is playing with illusions,” he thought to himself.
Baldwin’s headache lessened in the darkness and he began to have coherent thoughts in his mind again. The last part of the inscription does not appear coherent. How could opposites be each other? He knew that heat was far from being cold. But it hit him to think of the language of the inscription and not merely the meaning. It dawned on Baldwin. The language of it made sense as it was not an ordinary historical inscription at all.
“A spell… you have just said a spell!” Baldwin screamed, the echo of his voice was heard around the crypt. Willem jumped from being pulled from his deep thoughts.
“A spell? What makes you so sure?” Willem said with a confused voice. The words of Baldwin made no sense to him, which was usual, but this time he could not track the thoughts of his brother.
“The very language says it all, that is it indeed, a spell. An incantation to be more precise, but for what I do not know,” Baldwin answered. This time he was confident that he was indeed right about what he was saying. Willem was not to deter him.
“But if it was an incantation then it must do something?” Willem asked, “Everything appears to be just as it was before I finished the inscription.” Baldwin paused and thought of an answer.
“Who dares disrupt the dead?” said a deep, cold voice that rang in the ears of Baldwin and Willem. The voice cut off the sound of Baldwin before he was to answer his brother’s question. Both brothers instantly froze. Their chests tightened and their breathing slowed. The brothers were paralyzed by fear; they could not get themselves to turn around to meet the voice.
From behind them, the clicking of the stone floor could be heard. Baldwin squeezed his eyes closed. He was much more comfortable in this darkness. Even in the darkness, Baldwin gained a speck of confidence. He slowly guided his hand, without opening his eyes, to his belt where he gripped his knife. Baldwin took one deep breath and unsheathed the knife. It was a small blade and sharp, as if brand new. The truth is that he never used it as he never needed to until that moment. Baldwin was unskilled at the art of fighting, but he had the will to use it if needed.
Baldwin opened his eyes and looked toward his brother. His brother was still in place. Baldwin quickly turned around to face the voice, but all he saw was darkness with light only in the corner of his eye. Willem dropped the torch in his fright. “Willem, where is your composure? Don’t fail me in these last moments,” Baldwin had the courage to say. A laugh, as cold and deep as before, was made; the unknown voice heard the plight of Baldwin to Willem.
Baldwin could see Willem, giving out a sigh, and unsheathed his knife, which was used more, not in real combat, but in training, which Willem did once a month. Now both brothers and students of lore had weapons in their hands and doubt in their minds about the safety of both of their very lives and the integrity of the scholarship on cosmogony.
From the shadows emerged a figure like none either Baldwin or Willem had ever seen. The creature was of human shape. The creature had no clothes apart from a belt across his waist with a loin cloth and brown bracelets on his wrists. The creature’s skin was abnormal and had a bluish color to it and more violet in his legs. He was like he was dead, but he was walking. His skin was more akin to flesh as the bones of the creature stuck out as if he had not eaten in weeks. The face of the creature was gaunt; the outline of his skull could be seen.
Baldwin and Wille shattered at the sight of the creature. They did not suspect that a seemingly dead man would face them in their first combat experience. The dead man twisted its head and opened its hideous mouth, but did not unleash a scream until his mouth was as wide as it could go. The scream was like a knife to the ear and it dazed the brothers as if it was some kind of spell.
The dead man jumped forward with a sword in his hand; from what the brothers could see, it seemed as if the creature conjured the blade out of nothing. Baldwin half-recovered from his daze and positioned his sword to block the blow. The contact clicked the blades together. The force of the impact came to his wrist, which gave off excruciating pain. The dead man went for another strike; Baldwin blocked it again, this time with more grip on his knife so no pain came to his wrist.
Willem saw that the dead man focused on Baldwin exclusively despite his vulnerable position. He recovered from his daze, but he pretended to still be down. He was watching for a time to strike when the creature would not expect. He found the opportunity after the second strike on Baldwin. Launching himself at the dead man, Willem slashed his knife into the shoulder of the dead man, causing him to collapse to his knees. The bone of the dead man in his shoulder was exposed. With all his might, Willem took another slash and knocked the left arm clean off; apparently, the bone of this dead man was brittle and easily cut with a simple knife.
The dead man was not finished yet. He looked towards Willem and unleashed his scream upon him. Willem once again was dazed. The dead man took the opportunity and slashed the eye of Willem. Blood came pouring out of his eye socket. Willem let out a scream and covered his eyes; blood rolled into his hand and trickled onto the ground.
“No!” Baldwin screamed. Anger and tears flowed from him. He launched himself toward the dead man with his knife, but the dead man was too quick and blocked his attack. Baldwin ruthlessly attacked the dead man with all his might. Blow after blow, however, the dead man blocked, and for each blow, he grew wearier and more tears clouded his vision.
Baldwin gave another blow, but this time the dead man slashed at his fingers, cutting deep. Baldwin dropped his knife to the group. Blood was dripping down his arm from his fingers. Baldwin looked one final time at his brother and then at the dead man who stabbed him through the chest. Baldwin gasped for air; the dead man pulled his sword swiftly out of his chest and he died before ever hitting the ground.
Willem let out a scream with no tangible words. Filled with rage about his brother’s death, Willem gripped his knife like an assassin and launched himself on top of the dead man, knocking them both onto the ground. Willem was on top of him and began stabbing the dead man all over the chest until the dead man faced his second death.
Willem dropped his knife and began to hold pressure again on his damaged eye. He got up and knelt down on his brother's body. He whispered something to himself and then got up and ran out of the crypt with the last of his strength.
