Page 23 of The Last Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #5)

Chapter Sixteen

T he bedchamber was like something out of a horror movie.

How could Gunther sleep there? The bedcoverings were black, the heavy draperies, a jacquard of sorts, were also black.

The furnishings, a huge four-poster bed, nightstands and such, a dark mahogany wood.

The only thing on the walls were a pair of swords crossed over the fireplace.

Despite a fire burning, the room was chilly. It was then she noticed the doors to the balcony were cracked open.

Out of curiosity, she opened a wardrobe and found Gunther’s clothing. Most of it was also black, except for some button-up shirts in lighter shades, a mixture of grey and blue.

The silence was broken by the sounds of grunts and stomping. She hurried to the balcony doors, but hesitated. Gunther had assured that no one would be able to see her, but it was still terrifying to test the fact.

There was a long black cloak thrown over the back of a chair. Aubrey took the heavy cloak and pulled it over her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head. Then she walked to the doors, opened them and stepped out.

Dark and gloomy were how she’d describe the surroundings. Spindly trees with crooked branches intertwined stretched out for miles, it was hard to see any ground cover because a thick mist floated across it.

Grunts and stomps sounded again, and she went to the right corner of the balcony from where she could get a clear view of the castle’s courtyard.

What looked to be hundreds of creatures stood shoulder to shoulder in straight lines, their faces turned up to another balcony.

“The Yorians will not arrive. I have blocked their ruler from coming,” a strange voice, or voices said. “I will not be betrayed.”

Chills went up her spine at the words, not because she understood what the voices were referring to, but because it was the most horrible thing she’d ever heard.

She didn’t dare to look at the figure who stood not too far from her balcony speaking to the gathering of beings below. It was hard enough to look at those gathered without screaming in terror.

“All who are not loyal will die,” the voices said. “We are darkness. We are supreme.”

Despite the thick cloak, Aubrey was shivering. The coldness of the air was sharp and cutting. Ever so slowly, she finally worked up the courage to look at who spoke. A scream stuck in her throat.

It was Gunther, but not him. He stood with feet apart, his arms held out over the crowd. Black veins were visible under his skin, traveling from his arms up his neck and to his face. His mouth was twisted into a sneer as the voices spoke.

Behind him, two of Torants were bound by thick black ropes. They struggled against the bindings without success, both grunting loudly in the strange language she’d heard earlier.

“Death to betrayers!” He shouted, holding up a fist.

The creatures below began chanting, both in English and in their language, seeming to enjoy the suffering of the two who were bound.

Gunther turned to the two hapless males and took one by the throat, lifting him up as if he didn’t weigh more than a child.

Aubrey’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest, her eyes pinned to what was occurring. Gunther held the creature up as the male struggled, no one daring to interfere. The chanting grew louder and fervent, the pounding of the feet seeming to make the ground quake.

Finally, the male stopped struggling, his body limp and lifeless. Gunther let out a booming growl and threw the lifeless body over the balcony. It landed on the ground with a sickening thud; the limbs twisted in odd angles.

The contents of her stomach churned, but she couldn’t look away. What was happening? Why was Gunther acting so savagely?

“We are the ruler.” The voices erupted from Gunther’s throat as he grabbed another Torant, this one seemed paralyzed by fear, wide eyes moving side to side, mouth agape.

Without hesitation, Gunther tossed him over the balcony to the ground far below. No one could survive the heights, but this one did. He lay in a growing puddle of blood, lifting a hand up as if asking for help, and then the arm fell limp.

The ones on the ground cheered and grunted, celebrating. It was the most sickening, bizarre display she’d ever seen. Even in movies, something like this would be unbelievable.

When Gunther started to turn in her direction, she shrank back stepping back into the room. She had to get out of there. He wasn’t Gunther anymore. The darkness had taken over.

The darkness had won.

Tears poured down her face making it impossible to see clearly. Rushing to the side table, she grabbed the three items and placed the necklace around her neck, then she put the bowl into a pocket inside the cloak. Lastly, she unsheathed the dagger and tucked it into the waistband of her leggings.

How to leave the room was a problem since she was sure guards stood outside the door. She paced and then stopped abruptly catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror.

Her hands flew to her face, her skin felt the same, nothing like the reflection. Was it a mirror or a window” A Torant looked directly at her, its hands moving like hers.

Slowly, with trembling hands, she removed the pendant from her neck and her reflection returned to normal. This was the reason for it. A way for her to hide from others and easily move about the castle.

She replaced the pendant and peered at her reflection. The image made her shudder. Although she looked like a Torant, she was much shorter than the ones she’d seen. No matter, somehow she’d find a way to walk out.

First she grabbed two crystal figurines and then went to stand where the open door would block her from view.

Taking a largest crystal figurine, she threw it with all her might to the floor, picked up a second one and did the same as she screamed.

Within seconds, two Torants rushed in, seeing the room empty, they raced to the balcony. Aubrey circled the door, closed it and noting there was a key in the lock, turned it.

Every part of her shook with fear as she walked as fast as she could down the corridor, then down the stairs retracing the same route Phillippe had used to bring her.

She had to find Prince Sterling, the only person she recalled being mentioned as a friend in the realm. Her mind scrambled, trying to remember if there was a certain way to call upon him, but nothing came to mind.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she was thoroughly disoriented. Everything looked the same, dark corridors lit only by sconces. The air smelled musty and felt damp.

Spotting a door, she went to it. When her hand went to the latch, she heard grunts and footsteps.

She pushed the handle downward, it didn’t budge. Then she tried pulling it up, but it was locked.

The footsteps came closer. By the frantic grunts, she guessed it to be the guards who’d escaped the room she’d locked them in.

She began walking forward, unsure where the hell the corridor would lead. The Torants closed the distance, and she peered over her shoulder. They rushed closer, stopped and grunted at her.

The language was so strange, she couldn’t even begin to pretend to understand. The only thing she thought to do was to shake her head.

One of them grunted another pair of syllables and shoved her hard against the wall. He pointed toward the opposite end of the hallway, seeming to scold her.

It was then she understood they thought her to be a young one who’d stumbled into the wrong place.

The Torant took her gruffly by the arm to the same doorway she’d tried. He pushed down on the handle that squeaked from lack of use. Opening the door, he shoved her through, grunting something before slamming the door shut.

For a long moment, Aubrey stood stock still, doing her best to ascertain which direction to go in.

Looking up to the grey sky, she prayed for this to all be a bad dream and to wake up in her warm bed. It had to be a bad dream, after all she’d had several of them in the last weeks.

There was a gate, and she hurried toward it. Once past it, she found there to be two paths. One went toward the forest, the other, obviously well used, she figured went to the village where the younger Torants lived.

She headed in the direction of the forest, all the while doing her best to summon help mentally, but unsure of how else to do it.

The tree roots sprouting through the underbrush made for slow progress. But she pressed forward. The air was so cold it permeated through the thick cloak, but she couldn’t think about it. She had to find the prince.

Time passed slowly, or quickly, she wasn’t sure about the passage of hours since nothing changed. It was something like twilight. Gloomy and dark.

She constantly stumbled because of the mist and moss covering the ground, plus the long cloak that got tangled on low branches.

Aubrey came to a large tree and looked around. Everything looked the same. “Help me,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

A low menacing growl followed by what sounded like movement echoed, something or someone was near. Aubrey grabbed the cloak, lifting it from the ground and ran as fast as she could.

After only a few feet, she tripped over something hidden by the mist and she tumbled to the ground, landing on all fours.

A pair of boots came into view, and she was hoisted to stand.

“Why are you out here?” It was Gunther.

Of course, how did she think she could get away without the darkness knowing? It was powerful and probably knew everything that happened in the Dark Realm.

When she moved away from him, Gunther held out both hands signaling her to stop. “I will not hurt you, Aubrey.”

He grimaced. “I am keeping the darkness away…”

“Why didn’t you force it away when it was killing the Torants? Admit it, you have lost control over it. That was the most heartless, cruel thing I have ever witnessed.” Aubrey couldn’t stop the tears. “I want to go home.”

Lowering his arms, Gunther hung his head. “I cannot take you Aubrey, not without bringing the darkness with me. It is over for me. It is only a matter of time before I will be consumed by it and lost.”

“And you’re going to accept it? Not fight it?”

“The others refused to help me. I don’t blame them; I probably don’t deserve their help. What else can I do?”

His Dutch-accented words were full of sorrow tinged with fear. Aubrey could not imagine how he felt.

“I want to help you, but I have no idea how. What can I do Gunther? I have no magic training, no abilities and yes, my friends won’t help.”

His blue eyes met hers. “There is no one to blame but me. I agreed to Meliot’s terms thinking I was doing good. Thinking I was being heroic.” He barked out a dejected laugh. “What a fool I was.”

“You were being a hero,” Aubrey said. “You thought you were helping your warriors to survive. It is Meliot who is to blame.”

She thought about the other two items in the cloak, neither seemed to be appropriate for such a formidable opponent. What could she do with a stupid little bowl and a six-inch dagger? She reached up and removed the pendant from around her neck and held it out. “Would this help in any way?”

He took it, studied it and then held it in his hand, concentrating in silence. “The only magic it gives is to transform whoever wears it. You should keep it for protection,” he said handing it back. Aubrey stuffed it into one of the cloak’s pockets.

“Is there a magic here? Someone who knows spells?” Aubrey asked.

Gunther started to shake his head and then stopped. “The only one I know of is in Esland. I cannot go near there; they have wards against anyone approaching.”

“Can I?” Aubrey asked. “What about Sterling? Will he help?”

“He will not interfere in things having to do with the darkness. It violates Esland laws, and it puts his people at risk.”

That was understandable. Sterling ruled a huge realm that had survived centuries by being virtually impenetrable.

“Come, you can speak to Sterling at what used to be my home. I will summon him there. We will ask him to help you return.”

“What about helping you?”

Gunther shook his head. “I’m afraid it is too late for me.”

Meeting her gaze, he held out his hand. “Trust me. Not always, but right now.”

Aubrey hesitated, for a beat. She had no other recourse but to trust him. Despite everything, she believed Gunther was there and fighting to keep control over the darkness.

Their hands touched and she wanted to throw herself against him, to seek the shelter and safety of his embrace, but pictures of what he’d just done, even if it wasn’t him, were too fresh.

Gunther seemed to understand. He kept his distance. “Close your eyes. Do not open them until I say.”

The ground shifted under her feet. Aubrey almost screamed, but she held her breath for some reason and squeezed her eyes tighter.