Chapter One
‘Le-Beau’s Legacy’
A gentle breeze entered through the large open archway of the magnificent banquet hall. The flames of the two candles that adorned the long granite table flickered; their golden glow illuminated the gilded pillars and marble floor. In the valley below, the city was sleeping, only the torches of the many watchtowers punctuated the night as the four occupants of the room looked out.
“Do not look so troubled, My Lady. He is gone, and no longer will his actions be cause for our concern.” The deep voice of the tall, dark-skinned man filled the chamber. He leant upon the back of one of the golden thrones and took a mouthful of wine from the large chalice that stood before him. “Banishment to the depths of Baleenoch-Mau is final. It is a destination from which no one has, or ever will return.”
“Yes, yes, yes, I agree. We must not dwell on this, we must be thankful. We will not see him or his kind again.” The voice that now spoke was higher in pitch but just as loud, and came from the short, portly lady who stood in the doorway. “Now come, let us retire and put this dreadful business behind us.”
The two figures who sat at the table remained silent. Neither of them made any moves to follow the others who continued their conversation into the corridor, their voices became ever fainter until they were too far away to be anything more than a barely audible humming.
The beautiful lady reached out and held the man’s hand as she spoke. “I am afraid I do not share the others’ sentiments.” She looked up into his eyes then quickly bowed her head away from his stare. The golden-red curls of her silken hair dropped across her face.
“Now you must go, My Lord. Go and carry out your duty as you have done so diligently all these years. But I beg of you, be careful. I fear everything is not as it seems. I see a dark and dangerous shadow looming on the horizon of our futures. It is growing in size and strength. You must be vigilant, My Lord, our destinies depend upon it.”
“I will, Lady Grendwin, I assure you.” With that he stood up, gave her a courteous nod and silently left the room.
She did not follow him, instead she turned her head and was transfixed by the eerie violet glow of the night sky. There was nothing to be done except let destiny decide their fates.
Twenty-Two Years Later
Stood against barren hillsides, the black stonewalls of Caldeegan Fort were almost lost from view. Only the light from the moon and stars offered any hint of the building’s presence. As they shone, the sharp edges of the turrets and parapet were highlighted in a white glow reminiscent of a chalk drawing on a blackboard.
A single, dim red glow was visible at the top of one of the towers, created by a solitary candle and a window shrouded by a thin sheet of scarlet silk.
“Giles, Thomas, I think I shall leave you now. I have much to do and I cannot keep up with you any more, I am getting much too old.” The two men nodded their agreement as Sir John Le-Beau climbed the few steps to the entrance of the fort. He looked up to the top of the tower and sighed for he did not relish the prospect of climbing the spiral staircase, but he was getting tired and knew the comfort and warmth of his chamber waited for him.
In his prime, Le-Beau had been a commander for the Templar Knights, but now he was in his sixties and in contradiction to the vows of poverty he took all those years before, he had become a successful and wealthy man. Times had changed, and the Holy War had changed Le-Beau and his priorities. He had lost too many comrades and seen too much blood, both friend and foe, spilled on the sands of Jerusalem to any longer carry on along that path. He had not lost faith in his God, just in humanity and he did not see that he had lost his direction, rather that he had found a new one.
His beliefs and former masters were not the only things Le-Beau had left behind in the Holy Land, he had also left there a secret; a secret so sensitive that not even his trusted companions were aware of it. It was a legacy the importance of which Le-Beau himself did not know, one that would come to serve the future in a manner he could not possibly comprehend.
“Tha’s a little odd, don you think, Gilesy?” one of the guardsmen said as he peered out from the brim of his helmet and looked across the marsh surrounding the fort.
“What is, Thomas?” came the weary reply of Giles Montford, more than a little bewildered that anything could be odd enough to raise Thomas Wicks from his drunken slumber, while feeling himself a little delicate after the drinking game they had enjoyed earlier that evening.
“Tha, over there… see it looks dark.”
“Well of course it looks bloody dark, it’s the middle of the night, man. Christ’s teeth, how much did you drink, Thomas?”
Thomas paused, as if desperately searching for a witty response; unfortunately, nothing came to him, not tonight, not in his current state.
“No, I mean it seems darker ‘an usual.” He looked towards the sky and pointed. “Look, not a cloud in the sky – but no light neither, not even the stars seem shining.”
“Think you’re going a little mad, Thomas,” came the reply. “It’s just the drink; I think you need some sleep, man.”
But there was something in his friend’s words that led Giles to think maybe Thomas was right. As Giles scanned the vicinity, he felt more like a novice watchman on his first duty back in the Holy Land than a seasoned crusader.
Without any warning and not a single sound, not even a footstep, a tall cloaked figure, his face obscured by the dark, stood before Giles and Thomas.
“Bloody Hell, were’d you come from?” Thomas was almost knocked off his stool, only managing to steady his fall by leaning against his sword.
Giles was equally shocked, but he had always had a little more restraint than Thomas, and managed to conceal his surprise well.
“Sir, a little late to be wandering so aimlessly on the moors, is it not?” Giles said, “You seem to have quite startled my good friend here. Are you lost?”
“Is this the home of Sir John Le-Beau?” the hooded stranger asked, his voice calm yet menacing.
“I’d like to know who’s askin’, stranger,” replied Thomas, now fully recovered from his stumble, and as always ready to stand to protect his Commander.
“Is this the place where I may find Sir John Le-Beau?” the figure enquired again.
“As I say, who’s…?”
“Now, Now, Thomas, don’t forget your manners,” interrupted Giles.
“As I was saying, who would like to know,” Thomas restated the question with authority.
“You will tell me if I can find Sir John Le-Beau at this location, or suffer the consequences for your lack of manners.”
With that, both Thomas and Giles reached for their swords, with hands still quick and agile from their years of training and fighting. But even with their speed they were no match for the lightening reflexes of the dark stranger. Without so much as a sound, the two men found themselves immobile, lying on their backs looking directly at the stranger. His hood was pushed back and Giles was able to his face. It was the whitest skin he had ever seen and his eyes were nothing more than two jet black orbs – cold and lifeless.
“What is the meaning of this, why are you here?” Giles demanded, “You do not…”
“I have given you fair warning.” The stranger cut across him and placed his hand upon Giles’s chest.
Then silence.
A few moments later the stranger stood up and straightened the hood of his cloak. He calmly made his way up the steps and into the fort, leaving two dead bodies behind with no visible wounds.
With the all consuming darkness at its greatest, he had little difficulty in spotting the only source of light, the single dim red glow from the highest room of one of the towers. He made his way through the courtyard and into the foot of the western tower.
He ascended the spiral staircase with haste and when he reached the top he did not hesitate. He opened the only door and entered the chamber. A Tired old man sat at a desk surrounded by parchments and towers of coins.
“Good god Giles. Don’t tell me Thomas has fallen asleep again and you require my assistance to roll him into bed.” Le-Beau did not look up from his work as he spoke. “I’ve told you before, I am far too old for this nonsense. Just let the drunken swine sleep where he is.”
“Yes. Yes you much older than I remember.” The stranger spoke as he studied his prey. “I must say, Twenty years have not treated you well.”
The old knight stopped writing and raised his head. There was no look of surprise on his face; perhaps his eyesight was failing him as much as his body, or maybe his military training had prepared him for surprises.
“Good evening, sir.” He spoke softly. “I must say, I was not expecting a visitor at this hour, but you seem to know me, have we met before?”
“We have not met, but I know you. Sir John Le-Beau.”
“Then you have me at a disadvantage. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
The stranger thought for a moment, his objective was clear and he could dispense with Le-Beau with as much ease as he did the guards. But he was happy to humour the knight. He had waited for this moment for a very long time and found no reason to rush it now. What harm could it do to give him his name?
“Felkray Distoria.” He said.
“I am afraid that name means nothing to me.” Le-Beau sounded weary. “I have met many people in my time, both friend and foe, but none with a name such as yours. Do tell me, I am I right to be concerned about your visit.”
“Why would you think...”
“It is a strange hour to pay a social call” Le-Beau interrupted him. “And forgive me, Felkray, but your sudden appearance brings with it an ominous sign.”
Felkray did not give an answer, instead he continued to stare at the knight, trying to gauge what to do next. He had never hesitated over killing anyone, but this death would be different. This death had been planned for a very long time. His thoughts were broken when Le-beau spoke again.
“I must know, Felkray, is there anything I have that you want?”
“Yes, yes there is. Your life.” He said as he took a few steps forward.
Despite his appearance, the elderly knight stood up with the sprightly agility of a man half his age. The chair he sat on was sent tumbling backwards, and from beneath the desk he pulled his trusted sword that had served him well in many a battle. He held it out in front of him in readiness for the confrontation.
However, Felkray knew his actions were in vein and in the blink of an eye Le-Beau’s body was held in place by an invisible force. The knight’s eyes stared up at him as if hoping for an answer. But he offered no words to his victim as he watched his life drain away. Le-Beau was at peace.
The room was now silent. He slowly walked across to the window and pushed aside the scarlet shroud. Felkray waited for something to happen; a sign that he had been successful, but there was nothing.
“Felkray, why, why have you done this?” A voice came from the shadows behind him. “Why have you chosen this path?”
He did not turn round, instead his gaze stayed fixed on the courtyard below. The fact that another person had just appeared in the room caused him no concern. He recognised the voice immediately.
“Why? Isn’t it obvious, my old friend? Do not pretend your desire for power and glory are any less than mine. We all came here with the same intent, and yet we have all fallen victim to the allure of the power.”
“I do not need to think. I know what you have done, what you are striving for. They are actions neither I, nor any other member of the council is capable of. I think you know this too.” The man answered with sureness in his voice, a true conviction. “I cannot deny that power is alluring, glory is sought by all men, but to do what you have done is wrong.”
“Do not speak to me in this manner, do not raise yourself above me,” Felkray’s anger escalated and he turned around to face the other man. “I am not alone in my desire, the only difference between me and the others is that I am willing to act, and now I am one step closer to my goal, one step closer than you or any of the other council members will ever be.” He lowered his head and thought for a second. “You see, the others have fallen victim to my desire for power. Their opinion is of no concern to me or anyone else. Dalatey and Henchfort Mallafest, Maridia Loudrun and Wowl Rosstaryn, they are all gone, dead by my hand. Killed for their weaknesses, and their noble cause.” As he spoke these words an evil smirk spread across his face.
The other man emerged from the shadows. In an instant he covered the ten foot gap separating them and stood face to face with Felkray. The two of them looked at each other with utter distain and Felkray could feel his anger rise.
But this was a confrontation Felkray did not have the desire to entertain or the confidence to win. Despite his arrogance and power, he had to admit he did not want to test his mettle against his old friend. He had gained a fearsome reputation both in battle and against those he saw as an enemy to his cause.
“I do not wish to cause you any harm, friend,” Felkray spoke first. “But I feel it is time I departed.”
“Friend is not a term I feel I will ever again use in relation to you, Felkray, not any more. Astril and Mystoria will not be so lenient this time, they will have your soul for this. Your desire and single-minded path of destruction are not traits I, or the Council, will tolerate.”
“Tolerate? How dare you. You speak as though I need your permission, need your approval to carry out my work, my destiny.” Felkray spat the words at the other man. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to continue this discussion with you, or to seek approval from you or the Council. You make me sick with your archaic ideals.”
There was a blinding flash of light followed by an eerie silence. Felkray was gone and the remaining man found himself in a cloud of rancid smoke. He straightened his cloak and held out his hand. The smoke began to swirl around him as it was sucked into his palm until it vanished with a low hiss.
He walked over to the window and looked upon the marsh surrounding the Fort. The strange darkness that had covered the land seemed to be lifting; the light of the stars and moon once again shone brighter, and the man could see the outline of figures on horseback. He knew it was also time for him to leave.
As he turned from the window he looked down at the floor and stared at the lifeless body of Le-Beau – his grieving would have to wait, he could not be found here. The sight of a silver powder lying on the floor next to the body broke his concentration. He knelt and put his hand out to touch it. As he picked it up and rubbed some between his finger and thumb he said to himself, “Ah, Felkray, that was a cheap trick. You will have to do better than that.”