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The Eclectic Pen - Dwindling Way

By: Jen S. (tamaria)  
Date Submitted: 11/2/2009
Last Updated: 9/30/2010
Genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy » Fantasy
Words: 1,704
Rating:

The man stands at the gate. The hat on top is old and bows under the weight of the absorbed water. His jet-black hair shows with an eery light. It covers his eyes, but when the lightning flashes above, the golden- red points flashes with knowledge of what was to come. He is covered in a traveling trench coat made of hard leather. It has become heavy with water, but it is not a hindrance. He wears simple tanned leather pants and a jerkin under it. But when the lightning flashes just right the silver of the long sword he carries flashed bright and bold. His lean muscled body is coiled to fight, lost as it was the first time. With the deft movements of a trained soldier, he climbs the gate and jumps into the water-drenched pathway leading to the castle. He begins to climb. He had been told that this was the only available space to stay the night in town. He knew that had been a lie, but he had not called it. He had seen the light of recognition in the old woman's eyes, the same eyes that had lusted him many years before. When she had been a very young woman, and he a very young man. But in retrospect, would she still have wanted him? He thought not. Years of watching and waiting had told and saved him countless times. Had he been younger this probably would have been harder for him to bear. But with age there does come wisdom. Still he walks now toward what some may call doom. But he has lived a great and full life and times, death is not a hindrance. He doesn't fear it as he once did, but as they say, death is only the beginning. The climb has been easy. He knocks, a knock of a hundred different meanings, a knock of authority. Still after all the years, the castle still scares him as it always has. Even in his youth, when he had been foolish enough to even think of taking on the great beast of the man that confides here, it still scared him. But still, he waits. No fear crosses his face. No remorse for what he is going to do. No hatred for what had happened and what was to be. None. He stands and waits for the man to open the door for his master. "What is it, you want?"� says a gruff voice through the door. It has been years, eternities since he has heard that voice, but it is the same. He jumps; he did not expect anyone to be here. He raises his hand and says in a cold hard voice, "Open."� The door, even with the little man pushing on it, flies open. "You."� Says The caretaker, Clifton, if he has remembered correctly. "You were to be dead. The Master said you were taken care of." The little man has many fears, and He can see them all. But at the heart of all his fear, is this man. Even when he was young, and had first come to the castle to destroy the attrocite that lived there, the little man feared him. His hair has changed to a dark grey and his eyes have changed from the topaz blue to a dark blue almost black. "I'm not here to kill you." He says, holding out his hand. "I'm here to destroy that monster and finally end my life."� Clifton refuses his hand and pushes himself up. He moves into the hallway and closes the door. "Do not trouble yourself."� He tells the caretaker. "I know the way to his room."� He begins walking down the hall. On the way, he passes a gallery with two people inside. They look at him, he looks back. They must have seen his golden-red eyes, they look away. The woman has golden hair, she looks beautiful with her face silloetted against the fire. His heart skips a slow, painful beat. The man next to her has dark red hair, he stares at the man with bright emerald green eyes. The gold-red and emerald green meet. The golden-red wins. With his low, dangerous voice, he says, " Stay in this room tonight, and do not heed any of what you hear."� He continues on his way. He hears the old man talking to the people. No doubt trying to explain without scareing them too much. He walks a long way, down stairs that seem to have no end. He shows no fear and no remorse. Finally he reaches the black door. It is very ornate, an old romanian style that has not been seen for decades, and this is perhaps the last one. He opens it and enters. The man-thing sits on a chair on the other side of the room. It's grey skin hangs down his face, and under his cloak. It's black eyes regard him with something like humor. It smiles as he closes the door. It too does not show remorse from heartless things done in the past. It speaks in a harsh, air-splitting, velvet voice, " so you have finally returned to me, my child. I thought I had killed you in Romania, but as I can see, you are still very much alive."� "yes."� The man says, his hand going to the sword. "and this shall be the end."� No one hears the last cries of the battling creatures. No one hears the Master's last scream as the sword is plunged deep in his chest. But the man returns upstairs, with more wisdom and heartbreak than before. He is not dead. His eyes brim with bloody tears as he relizes that he himself is now the Master of this castle. Clifton brings him pork and chicken, which he takes upstairs with him. He leaves the beautiful woman and the jealous man to themselves. The room is just as ornate as the rest of the house. The four poster bed had golden curtains hanging. The bed itself was made of a golden substance, but with the flash of his hand, the wood underneath was revealed. He smiled, he knew now that this was his bed. The one he had in his house in the village. The room had statues of angels and devils mounted on the walls. But the ceiling was painted to match a stormy sky. He sits at the little table and eats. He's ravenous. When he's finished, he goes to the bed and lays on the down comforter. He finally sleeps. He wakes in the morning. Sun streams through the partially open curtains, and he shys away into the shadows. His hands are raw, and then he sees her. Her white-gold hair hangs almost to her hips. Her eyes are a dark sapphire blue and her skin is tanned dark gold. She stares at him. " What do you wish?"� he says, turning from her beauty. She is slightly scary and makes him feel like a young mortal again. She awakes all the urges he has pushed into the past, and that is what scares him the most. " you mean what I need,"� she says, standing and walking around to where he was. It is only then that he notices what she is wearing. It is a betrothal gown. The white velvet hangs off her shoulders, and flows down her body. Gold runes are sewn into the fabric at the base. The sleeves are long and pulls out to form a funnel around her lower arms and her hands. Gold fabric runs down the from just below her bosom, to her feet in a large and flowing V, and on the inside of the sleeves. She is gorgeous. And she wants to be his queen. That was why she was here. "What exactly do you want?"� He says, leaning against the wall behind him. The wood bows slightly underneath him. He takes no notice. " And what about your Beau?"� "He,"� She said, with venom in her eyes. " is of no concern. At least not anymore."� The man looks at her. She is gorgeous, but he wouldn't take her. Not yet. "What did you do?" He says, eyes flashing from the shadows. " Put him out of his misery."� She says, looking away at the dawn. " He left during the night. I don't think he'll be back."� The man nods. "where did you get that?"� He says, nodding toward her gown. " it was to be my wedding gown."� She looks at him with proud, wide eyes. " I was to be wed to the English Crown Prince. I only met him once but he was more interested in the maids and servent girls then me. A quick sex. He's not interested in marriage, and I'm not interested in him. I sent him my official decline with the Beau, as you called him. I am officially a royal outcast." Her eyes move to the floor. " I have no where else to go." � He looks her up and down again. He has known the Crown Prince, and he certainly is a player. This girl could be no less then seventeen, and no more than twenty. But she is a prize and a certain joy in the years to come together. "before I do anything rash,"� he says, looking into her beautiful sapphire eyes, and almost wishing that the color won't change. "A question?"� "Yes?"� she says, still starring at her matching shoes. " what is your name?"� He asks, moving toward her. She looks at him in surprise, then answers, " Carmina Skye"� " A beautiful name,"� he says, wrapping his arms around her. " for a beautiful young woman."� He pulls her to the bed and positions himself above her. " I-I-I have a question."� she stammers as he kisses her throat. " what is your name?"� He leans up from on top of her. He has position himself, he is ready. But he stops, and says, "are you sure you want to know?"� " yes."� she says, looking him in the eyes again. " My name,"� he kisses her throat again. "is"� he kisses her passionately on the mouth, "Darian Ranulf."� With those final words and a gasp of realization from her, Darian sank is sudden fangs deep into her throat.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Jen S. (tamaria)

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