Red Bearer's Blood: Chapter 1

Red Bearer's Blood



by

Louis Crochet



CHAPTER 1







         “Move it, you worthless slabs of flesh! I want this field plowed before second dark!”

         Jokhab looked up from the fields to the sky, and wiped his brow. It had been an unbearably hot day, and first dark had not done much to alleviate that. With second dark not but a few hours away and the temperature still hotter than a whore's sainted rosary, he was pretty sure the night was not going to be much better. The only glimmer of hope he could see was that it looked like rain; dark clouds having started to form over the fields within the last few minutes.

         Normally, Jokhab would be pleased at the prospect of a cooling rain to break the sweltering heat of a hard day. Today, though, his idiot Gorgs seemed to be making a mess of even the simplest of tasks he gave them, and had fallen way behind on the day's work. The normally docile beasts had spent most of the day mewling to themselves and fumbling at their work. He had already beaten one to death with the whip, and a second likely wouldn't make it to see first light tomorrow. Even that hadn't seemed to do much good, though.

         The sun had already passed beyond the companion planet, Nemesis, and was well on its way to second dark. Second dark was no time to be stuck out in a rutting field with a bunch of rutting Gorgs who were making a mess of a simple plowing job, as if the damned things had never worn a plowing harness their entire lives. It would be even worse once those dark clouds that were quickly building up above broke into a torrent of rain. If he was still stuck in these fields when that happened, Jokhab promised himself that there would be more than one Gorg who wouldn't be alive to greet first light tomorrow.

         “Get a move on, ya mangy bastards, or I swear by Teekan's tit that I will whip the lot of ya until your blood irrigates the ground you should be plowing!” Jokhab knew from long-suffered experience that the Gorgs didn't understand a single word he said, but they would definitely react to his tone. They were too stupid to comprehend language, but the threat of violence in his voice – that they got just fine. “If'n Setyr Brakken gives me one for having these fields plowed late, I'll be sure to pass it on triple to you lousy lot!”

         The pitiful mewling became louder, but the Gorgs seemed to be pulling harder at their plow harnesses now that they were suitably motivated. Jokhab did not like much about his lot in life, but lording it over the Gorgs was one pleasure he secretly enjoyed greatly. Nothing made him feel better than seeing someone who had it worse than him, and the Gorgs definitely did. He even thought about forcing them to stay out in the fields the entire second dark; enduring the torrent of rain.

         “Ah, but that is building fast, it is. Probably gonna be caught out in it, no matter what.”

         Jokhab had to look straight up to see the building darkness above, and that was a view very few people enjoyed. It meant having to look right at the companion planet, Nemesis. A giant orb of dark reds and swirling browns, Nemesis was a sight that sent chills down the spine of the sturdiest men. During the few times he had actually paid attention, Jokhab could remember old Patron Nohrt giving lessons on how to the two planets; Nirvana and Nemesis; were locked in something called a close synchronous orbit – whatever that was. Most of that discussion had been sciency and beyond him, but even the dullest of children quickly learned why all men feared Nemesis.

         The Patronage taught that Nemesis was the world of punishment and damnation; a place where the High God sent sinners to pay for their crimes. It was also the land of the Fell. Simply thinking about the Fell made Jokhab feel sick and anxious, and he quickly pushed the thoughts aside. If he was going to make it out of the fields before the rain, he had a lot of work ahead of him anyway.

         “No, no, no, you worthless ass-end of a mule! Don't stop!”

         With exaggerated exasperation, Jokhab got down from the wagon where he had been supervising and stomped over to the offending Gorg. The beast had simply halted in the middle of its row and stood staring straight down as if the ground had fallen away at its feet. Jokhab quickly figured out what the problem was, but it made him no less irritated. A large stone lay mostly buried right in the Gorg's path; one large enough that Jokhab didn't think even he and the Gorg together could manage to lift. With masochistic glee, though, he decided to make the Gorg move it alone one way or another.

         “Well, don't just stand there gawking. Move it!” At the Gorg's blank, uncomprehending stare, Jokhab pantomimed bending over and lifting the stone. It took him quite a bit of work to finally get the idea across to the stupid creature, and more than a little screaming and pushing accompanied it. “Oh, you get me, and don't act like you don't! Move it, I said! Now!”

         With slow resignation, the Gorg bent over and grabbed the stone. It's short, stubby arms were barely long enough to fit around the large rock, but the creature managed get a hold on it. Once that simple task was done, however, it simply stood there bent over as if it did not know what to do next.

         “Lift it, you addled pile of worthlessness! Do I have to show you how to do everything. Lift it, like this!”

         Once again pantomiming the movement, Jokhab instructed the Gorg on how to lift the stone without even the slightest believe that the creature ever actually could. He knew it was too stupid to know that, though, and would likely keep trying until it broke or pulled something. The malicious smile on his face melted away, though, as the Gorg stood up as quickly and easily as he had; only the Gorg was holding a large stone.

         “How... but... no way you could... what the f...”

         The sight of the Gorg holding a stone that was suddenly much lighter than it should be was like freezing water being thrown onto Jokhab's soul. His bravado and bravery; something mostly lacking in him to begin with; fled in an instant to be replaced by the much more natural fear. Once he knew to check for it, finding that his own body felt lighter than usual as he stood there turned his fear into abject terror.

         All the pieces fit to form a most horrible picture; the mewling and strange behavior of the Gorgs, the abnormally hot day, things becoming lighter than they should be, and the dark clouds that were forming only in one spot above – especially the dark clouds. Jokhab would have wet himself and collapsed into a whimpering ball on the ground if he had been given the time. The first of the Fell struck before then, though.

         The rain Jokhab had been expecting finally began to fall, but instead of water it rained dark shapes made mostly of teeth and claws. Most were no larger than a small dog, but furless with skin the color of swamp mud. Their misshapen mouths snapped and bit even as they fell; their large, jagged teeth clicking loud enough to be heard even above the screams that were starting to break out. If the stories were true, the small Fell were only the first. Larger, far worse ones would not be far behind. That was something Jokhab had no intention of finding out, however.

         Carried over by some strange force that not even the Patronage truly understood, the falling Fell were giving off white smoke from their ice-cold skin. Whatever force had allowed them to pass from Nemesis to Nirvana had apparently sucked most of the heat from them, but it did little to slow down their single-minded need to attack whatever was nearest.

         Without even a word to the Gorgs gathered around him, Jokhab broke into a run towards his wagon. As far as he was concerned, if the Gorgs slowed the Fell down while they died then that was good enough for him. They were expendable while his own precious self was not. He tried his best to dodge any dark shapes that fell near him, and so far the rain of creatures had been light. It was not light enough, however, to save the horse hooked up to his wagon.

         Jokhab climbed into the wagon seat before he finally noticed the two Fell taking turns ripping pieces from the horse's stomach. The animal was long dead; a large portion of its neck taken out at some point; but the sight was no less grisly for it. With a surprised scream, Jokhab jumped off the other side of the wagon and kept on running. There was a farm house not far away, and if he could make it there he might have a chance.

         He ignored the loud screams of other human workers who were not as lucky or as fast as he was as well as the long mewling howl of hurt Gorgs that filled the air behind him. They would have to save themselves or not; he certainly wasn't going to help. It would be miracle enough if he could save himself. Being caught right in the middle of a Fell crossing was almost always certain death – if you were lucky enough to simply die. A fate far worse awaited the unlucky.

         Jokhab did not slow down to lift the latch on the door, but simply shouldered his way in. Thankfully, the latch was not well seated so the impact only rattled his teeth a little bit. Stumbling inside, he nearly ran himself through on the pitchfork that was held facing him. He was able to check his momentum just in time, and the young woman holding the pointy instrument decided not to simply thrust forward despite the obvious look of surprise on her face.

         “Put that down, damn you! You know full well that won't do any good against them!”

         “Oh, by Sainted Teekan, then it is a Fell crossing?! High God, have mercy on your loyal subjects, and forgive us our sins! We have done nothing to deserve this!”

         “Shut up, woman. I don't think the High God's in a listening mood today.” Jokhab quickly slammed the door shut, and this time insured the latch was well seated. There was nothing large or heavy enough inside the small farm house to work as a barricade, but any protection from what waited outside was better than nothing. “We have to figure out a way to block up these windows and secure this door.”

         “I... no, no no! We can't do that! My husband and son are out there! We have to go help them!”

         “Woman, if your family was out there then they are dead... or worse. Best get used to the idea, and fast.” The woman's wail was loud enough to drown out the screams and cries still echoing outside, but it did nothing to move Jokhab. She thought she had it bad? He was stuck in a farm house in the middle of a Fell crossing with a worthless woman as his only company. “Get over it, and help me bar these damned windows!”

         “No! You're lying! You have to be. They're still alive and I'm going to...”

         The sudden banging on the outside of the door was enough to make both of them jump with fright. Quickly, Jokhab moved to lean against the door and the latch in an effort to keep out whatever was there. His lot in life may have been a miserable one, but he was too much of a coward to ever think of giving it up; especially not to a Fell.

         “Ma? Oh god, ma, its me. Its your son, Rhobyr. Please, ma, let me in!”

         “Rhobyr? Oh, by Sainted Teekan, you're alive! I'm coming, Rhobyr. Just hold on!”

         “Are you nuts! What are you thinking?! No one who has been out there with Them comes inside!” As the woman approached, Jokhab held up a forestalling hand. It was just his luck that the one other human to survive the Fell long enough to make it to the farm house was the woman's son. It didn't matter, though. Letting anyone else in now would be nearly suicide. “I don't care if High Patron Vickus knocks on that door next. We are NOT opening it for anyone!”

         “Ma? Oh, please, ma! It burns! It won't stop burning, and I'm scared, ma!”

         “You will let my son in, now!”

         “No! You really are crazy, woman. You heard him! Its too late. The best he can do is kill himself now before it happens, but I am not letting him in here to infect us too! If you keep pushing, I swear I will kill you and use your body to stop up this door!”

         The sudden sharp pain where the woman thrust the pitchfork through his stomach was a surprise, but Jokhab realized it probably shouldn't have been. He had never had much way with women, and threatening one who was armed probably was not one of his brighter ideas. Despite the throbbing pain, he attempted to continue to bar the door even as the woman pushed against the pitchfork in an effort to move him. Finally, though, the pain was too much and he gave way.

         “Oh, Rhobyr, momma is here. Don't worry, momma is coming!”

         Jokhab had no idea what the woman's son had looked like, but the gruesome thing waiting on the other side of the door definitely had not been it. As soon as the woman tossed the door open, the Fell creature grabbed her. Tentacles lined with spikes wrapped around her throat; forestalling the horrified scream that had been building there even as a gapping maw of jagged teeth reached out and gnawed a chunk from her stomach. Most of the creature's skin was the same muddy color as the rest of the Fell, but pink splotches still remained; evidence that whatever the thing was now, moments ago it had been this woman's son.

         Even though the woman could draw no breath to scream, Jokhab managed to scream enough for the both of then. The sharp pain in his stomach now completely forgotten, he quickly forced himself to his feet and made his way to the closest window. The opening was raised off of the ground high enough that he had to slowly pull himself up to get through it, but he was somewhat sure the thing behind him was too pre-occupied with its former mother to pay him any attention. He was far too scared to look back to make sure, though.

         The wounds in his stomach flared up violently again as he scraped them along the windowsill, but he continued to worm his way through despite the pain. The ground beneath the window looked hard, but thankfully clear of any Fell; at least for the time being. With renewed strength, he pushed even harder to get the last bit of him outside. One last shove, and he was plummeting down towards the quickly approaching ground. It was not a long way to fall, but he knew it was probably going to jar his wounds anyway. Only a portion of his weight hit the ground, however. Most of it was supported by the sickly tentacle wrapped around one of his ankles.

         “Not me! Not me, not me! Let go, you bastard! Take someone else!”

         The Fell creature stared down at him from the window, his right foot caught in one of its spiked tentacles. He could feel those sharp points biting into his skin like hot brands. The unnatural hunger in those alien eyes was enough to break any self-control Jokhab had left, and he began to thrash and kick wildly in an effort to break free. The thrashing dug the spikes even deeper into his flesh, but finally he was able to slip out of the creature's grasp.

         Rising quickly to his feet, Jokhab broke into a limping run. Fell creatures of all shapes and sizes loped about the area; hunting down anything that was still alive or feasting on anything that wasn't. Most of them were back towards the fields, however, leaving him room to run towards  Setyr Brakken's keep. There was not much the Setyr could do to help those here, but the keep was probably the safest place for miles around.

         The sky had turned dark faster than Jokhab had expected, and as he ran he looked up. The area around the fields was not the only place to have a dark cloud sitting over it. There were dozens of them dotted all around the country-side. So many that it made Jokhab stop dead in his tracks. Far, far too many for this to be a simple Fell crossing. One crossing was often enough to wipe out an entire area; any more was a nightmare beyond nightmares.

         With the burning pain in his ankle quickly spreading up his leg and to the rest of his body, Jokhab simply sat down where he was. He had been touched by a Fell. It was over. He was going to be one of the unlucky ones after all. There was not even a way for him to take his own life before the Fell infection took over and turned him into something horrible.

         He did manage a smile, however. Any of the Gorgs who had been under him would have recognized that smile for what it was. It was the smile of someone who took comfort in knowing despite how bad his lot in life was, a great many others were about to have it a lot worse. It was no simple Fell crossing coming. Jokhab was now sure of that. It had only been a little over a  hundred and fifty years since the last Dark Felling was recorded, but apparently the time had come again. Another Dark Felling was upon the world of Nirvana. The High God had once again sent the spawn of Nemesis to punish the sinful.

         Jokhab continued to smile until his mouth split his head nearly in half and grew rows of jagged fangs making smiling impossible. The malicious thought that had made him smile went long before that as the personality that was “Jokhab” was twisted and devoured by the Fell infection as surely as his body was. The thought was replaced with hunger and purpose that was more instinct than thought; instinct driven by a collective hive-mind. The thing that had once been Jokhab could feel all of the other Fell minds. It could sense the hundreds already upon the world of Nirvana as well as the thousands yet making the crossing. Mostly, though, it could just feel that which directed the hive-mind. It wanted death and blood, and some distant part of the former Jokhab knew exactly where to get it;  Setyr Brakken's keep.

*****

         The first Dark Felling was nearly the end of us all. Intact records from that time are scarce, but they all speak of the horrors of a massive horde of Fell running rampant across the face of Nirvana. We have had many since, but that first is believed to have been the worst. We were but children newly born from our previous sin upon the new world the High God had given us, through the workings and efforts of Sainted Teekan. We were not prepared for His wrath, or the betrayal that caused it.

         The Patronage already has many treatise upon the First Sin as well as the Deliverance, so I will not recount it all; only the parts pertinent to the subject of the Dark Felling. After Sainted Teekan had lead us out of the hell that was Nemesis and found us a new home upon Nirvana through the blessing of the High God, we were ill prepared for the tragedy that would come. We expected paradise, and were given it. If not for the betrayal of Levi, the Behinder, we could have kept it. Such was not to be, though.

         The exact timing is unknown, but many scholars believe it was less than a decade after the Deliverance unto Nirvana that the first Dark Felling occurred. They came in numbers beyond belief, and scoured the planet almost to the point of extinction. Elf, human, and all other races alike nearly saw their end. We fought, but so little is effective against the Fell.

         Sainted Teekan once again sought the aid of the High God, and was blessed with the power to manipulate the Sidhe; what we know as magic. Some heretics say the Elves knew of this skill first. The official stance of the Patronage is that it was Sainted Teekan who was first blessed, and the Elves simply stole it while they were our allies. Either way, magic would not prove enough to battle the Fell.

         Slaughtered or turned into horrible creatures that then went on to slaughter, there were so precious few humans left towards the end of the first Dark Felling. We were punished for the Second Sin of Levi, the Behinder, and the High God is not merciful in His lessons. Huddled behind the sheltering walls of Daorha, the First city, we waited for our inevitable demise. It would have undoubtably come, too, if not for the birth of the Red Bearers.

         Brought into being by Sirah, Sister of Sainted Teekan, they were the bright spot in a well of consuming darkness. Once we had suffered enough, the High God gave unto Sirah the secret of forging men into a weapon that could fight the Fell. No normal weapon can permanently kill a Fell and even magic is of limited use against them, but a weapon held by the blessed hand of a Red Bearer is eternal death to the Fell. Death is what they were created for, and death is what they brought to the Fell en masse.

         The Red Bearers gave up their own lives, and did so willingly, in order to save us all. Men of the strongest mettle, they never flinched at what was asked of them. They sacrificed their own future, and carved out a new one for us all; one free of the Fell. It is in this humble scribes opinion that the Red Bearers of the past are owed a greater debt by us all than what is currently given. The price they pay in exchange for the ability to defend us is great, and they do it in altruistic silence.

         Because of them, the first Dark Felling was ended and human-kind limped on into a period of peace and growth. We prospered and expanded, all while we tried to forget. So much pain and death and horror, and yet we seemed to so quickly ignore the lessons we were supposed to learn. Lessons forgotten are lessons quickly learned again. So it has always been, and so it was for us back then and every time since.

         The second Dark Felling came two-hundred and fifty years later, and once again all life upon Nirvana was pushed to near extinction. This time, though, someone had been watching and waiting; the Red Bearers. Their numbers had dwindled to nearly nothing during the time of peace, as they always do after the end of a Dark Felling, but enough still remained to push back against the ravenous darkness. The Fell came, humanity nearly perished in their wake, and the Red Bearers once again forced them back.

         It is a dance we have done five times now. Almost exactly two-hundred and fifty years after the last, a new Dark Felling occurs. The Fell come in unbelievable numbers and take a heavy toll before the Red Bearers and the combined forces of the various races manage to push them back. There have been several times we almost lost, regardless. Times when the number of Red Bearers dwindled too low during the time of peace, times when the various races were too schismatic to coalesce together to fight the pressing threat of the Fell, and even times when the Fell were able to swell their numbers to staggering heights by spreading their infection. Each time, though, we have barely managed to pull through.

         We still sin and we still forget the lessons the High God wishes us to learn, and so every two-hundred and fifty years we must learn them anew. We do this until we either all bow to His divine will and live in perfect grace or until the Fell claim us all. One Dark Felling the Red Bearers may not be there to turn the tide. There may come a time when there are no more great men willing to pay the price that is required to become a weapon against the Fell. We may one day find ourselves short of heroes and leaders, and more importantly of men willing to do what must be done to protect us all. If that day ever comes, may Sainted Teekan shelter us all, for the Fell will show us no mercy. The only thing they are capable of showing us is the darkest terror that lives in the deepest portions of our soul.



- Excerpt from “Treatise upon the Dark Felling: The Red Bearer's Burden” by Patron Scholar Ignatio written in the year 226 A5DF (after fifth Dark Felling).