The Battle of Tyrell: Cynthia, Nicola Collings [best ebook pdf reader android TXT] 📗

buckles, the many piercings and stretchers of their ears- everyone waited with baited breath. They were ready.

                “Family, friends, descendents, peasants, the scum of the city. You are the people who I value most. We have been beaten, whipped, shot, scratched, discriminated, raped and murdered. For years, the pieces of shit that think they are safe in their houses have controlled us. To walk their turf is to be a disease. To go to their schools and have an education is to be unworthy. To pray to the same gods as they do is to blaspheme. For us to have three meals a day we are reduced to scavenging and stealing!”

                Zeke watched as the crowd started to fume with energy.

                “We were once equals. We once lived together, without segregation, without a hierarchy. We could all go to the church and pray, we could all go to the Mayor and have a say! We could all go to school, go to a University, have electricity, feed our children! We once walked the streets of this city living peaceful lives.

                “Not Anymore! We will not be beaten. Thos of us who have fallen will be avenged. Those of us who have been raped and mugged, those of us who have had everything taken from them, those of us who cannot fall in love, who cannot have free will, those of us who have been forced to take part in something sinister...

                “We will no longer be broken! We will take back a world that was once ours! We will regain the power, we will declare war. We will show them we are strong! We will come from the shadows and make their pearly white streets run black with blood! We will march tonight!”

                The whole of The Wynde screamed in agreement.

                “And a message to them! We are the unholy! We are the bastard sons of their material culture! Our souls are born of your exclusion! You hide behind the rotting foundations of your glass churches. We will show you that we cannot be killed!

                “You cannot hide in the darkness, for we are the darkness!

                “We are the abomination!

                “We are the dirty and the unclean!

                “And we. Cannot. Be. Killed!”

                The Wynde erupted, holding torches aloft, fired round echoed into the night sky. Zeke saw the fire that had once burned in Gus’ eyes return. He saw Sam smile and raise his gun high. He saw the Wyverns look at each other with readied looks on their faces. He saw the hooded figure emerge from her hiding spot.

                The people changed.

                “They march when the Shamar appear!” Cynthia was suddenly next to him, holding his arm the pulling through the door behind him.

                “So now you believe?”

                “I do. And I think they know. When to door opens, you need to lead them! They will know what to do. Just point them in the right direction. The Wynde will know too. Everyone knows. I think everyone knew from the start and this is it!”

                The two ran down a corridor, past the main sleeping quarters, towards an older part of the mansion. There was a doorway at the end of the corridor, and Cynthia burst through it.

                The room was old. Very old. The furniture was covered in thick layers of dust. He could barely make out what the paintings were of on the wall.

                One wall, however, was entirely empty, except for one huge tapestry. He had to look closer for a moment before he realised it was a map of the Crown Continent.

                Cynthia grabbed one end and ripped it down. Behind it, build into the stone was the carving of the God of Duty.

                “What is this?” Zeke uttered.

                “Danin Duskgate learned a lot form Wyvern Industries. I don’t know what they were doing all those years ago, but he said he learned magic. He said the only way to open the door is Duskgate blood. I think the reason my parents are dead is that they tried to escape from Wyvern Industries. More than anything I want to know why. But right now, I know what I have to do.”

                With out warning, Cynthia pulled a knife. From where, he didn't know. Maybe she’d been holding it all along. Maybe she’d had it since she came back from looking through the old archives. But all Zeke could do was watch the terrifying act of suicide Cynthia was about to perform.

                He could only watch, eyes wide with terror as she stood with her back to him, her arm making one, swift movement. Blood splattered across the stone, and Cynthia fell to the floor.

                Something fell from Zeke, it fell with Cynthia. It crashed to the floor, dead and numb.

                He could only stand and stare at her body, her grey eyes empty. He reached for her, but he only ended up falling to his knees. He could only scoop her up in his arms. He couldn’t save her now.

                He heard the sound of stone breaking, rubble falling and footsteps...many, many footsteps.

                He looked up, through tears to see faces. Black war paint on pearly white skin. Eyes hard as stone, heavy black clothing and heavy black weapons to accompany them.

                He watching them emerge from the darkness in thousands. Men, women, even kids; a whole civilisation that no one knew about, entire cities that were slaves to legend and rumour...

                Until now.

                Zeke watching them, marching form the door and out, onto The Wynde. He slowly felt something changing within him. A strength that was arising from the depths of his soul. It bubbled from his throat in an inhuman growl and with it came a deep anger, a hatred more intense than anything he had ever felt!

                He plucked Cynthia from the cold ground and pushed through the crowds of Shamar. He pushed through the hallways, past warriors waiting to wet their blades. He made his way down the stairs and through the door to the archives, ignoring the horrified gasps at both Cynthia and the Shamar. Once in the quiet solitude of the archives, he rested Cynthia’s body on one of the sofas, and stopped.

                He held on to his hatred and anger. Another growl escaped his lips and once again, he felt the tinge of something different, something...not human inside him.

                He made for the door.

                Something’s missing.

                Zeke strode down the hallway.

                I need something. Something to...bite.

                His hand was on the door knob.

                Something to...kill!

                He threw open to door.

                A million eyes fell on him.

                “The Black Parade marches!”

                The people of The Wynde yelled. He saw the Shamar mix with the crowd, knowing what to do as if it was ingrained in their DNA.

                Guns raised, lights shining, warriors, survivors and slaves moved in unison.

                At that moment, an entire region was one.

 

               

               

Part 3: The Black Parade

 

                4 Generations ago...

 

Heartlib approached the gates at the top of the hill and sighed as he laid eyes on their elaborate design. He gazed up at the golden tipped spikes and the detailed metal work on the family crest; something that could only have cost an awful lot. Of course, his brother’s arrogance could reach no bounds. Making his way through the gates, Heartlib began to be painfully aware of just how much his brother had spent on this place. The trees- all ever green ferns and yew trees- the gravel of the incredibly long drive way, the looming black figure of the mansion in the distance. He could see just how comfortable his brother had gotten here in Tyrell.

                And once again, Heartlib was all the more aware of the letter, sealed in Arcanouwa wax, in the pocket of his waist coat. Pulling his cloak around him, it dawned on him the the job he came here to do would be so much more difficult.

                Not only was his brother incredibly arrogant, but his stubbornness was a force to be reckoned with!

                The mansion itself only increased Heartlib’s doubt. The sense of urgency rose as he rang the doorbell; a long rope with a golden hook displaying a pattern of vines and roses. At first there was no answer, and Heartlib stood back, looking up at the intimidating architecture that started down at him.

                A moment more and the door creaked open, behind of which stood a frail-looking maid. She gestured and Heartlib stepped past her into the main hall. It was huge, something that could only have come from his brother’s creative mind! The stairways on either side coiled all the way around the top of the room, overlooking another room through cloisters to the left and another smaller room to the right. The heavy mahogany of the structure weighed upon Heartlib, and no longer able to distract his thoughts, he rehearsed what he was about to tell his brother.

                “If you would kindly wait here, please.” The maid muttered and shuffled towards a door directly opposite.

                The then Heartlib was alone. Alone with the prospect of what he was about to say to Davin.

                He loved his brother, but what he had to do would probably tear them both apart. Not that Davin hadn’t tried to instigate that already. On the contrary, Davin made his feelings very clear the moment he abandoned Heartlib. But even so...

                The door opened and Heartlib found himself looking at Davin. It sometimes felt strange to look at someone who looked exactly like you; it was as if he was a mirror. It was quite apt, considering the fact that they were opposites, yet looked exactly alike.

                “Heartlib! So good to see you!” Davin said, a sense of happiness forced into his tone and a fake smile plastered across his face. “Do you like what I’ve done with the place?”

                Heartlib returned the smile, but only fleetingly. “It’s very...elaborate. Even for Duskgate standards.”

                Davin laughed. “Ah, you know me and the family have never quite seen eye to eye. So, what brings you to Tyrell?”

                Heartlib paused. “You need to come back to Arcanouwa.”

                Davin tensed. “Why should I go back?”

                “Because if you stay in Tyrell, they’re going to kill you.”

                There was a lingering moment of silence. “You know why I chose Tyrell to settle in?” Davin asked, relaxing slightly.

                Heartlib shook his head.

                “Not just because our family was based here back in the old days. But because it’s the people. Something is beginning to happen here, Heartlib. There’s a clear divide beginning to happen, and I care about the people who live on The Wynde.” He looked at Heartlib.

                “You really believe the stories?”

                “I do. We are the descendents. And the things happening in the city right as we speak leads to the uprising. I have to stay and protect it! It is my duty!”

                Heartlib reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter, “A price has been placed on your head. If you don’t leave with me now, they will come and destroy you!” 

                “I don’t care about them. I care nothing for science!”

                Heartlib pushed the letter at Danin. “Please. If I can’t convince you, then you will die!”

                “Then I will die! Science does not matter to me anymore! I need to prepare.”

                “Prepare for what?”

                Danin flashed Heartlib a smile. “Come, brother.”

                He led Heartlib to the door directly opposite. He followed Danin down the red carpeted hallway to a huge room, filled to the brim with books crammed into bookcases.

                Heartlib stared, open mouthed! There must be over a million tomes in this room!

                “And these are just the less valuable ones. I keep all the precious texts in a room deeper in the mansion.”

                “Just, how big is