There Came a Darkening from the West (eBook)

Chapter 1

The Valley

On the level valley that spread out from the base of the majestic mountains that holds the great city on high, the farmers tended to their land. Stripped torsoed young men wielded scythes in the meadows of lush grass, a sight that brought a whirl of twitter and lustful chatter from within the bushes of soft fruits where young daughters peeled ripened berries from thorned stalks. The gentle sun shone down, a soothing south easterly breeze robbing the harshness from its rays. On the outskirts of the fields, the elders sat beneath the shade thrown by the shadows of awaiting carts, playing games upon boards as heavy hooved horses shooed the flies with swish of mane and tail. Upon a flatbed two easeled artists set about the scene. Their brushes traced the serenity of the day in colours warm and pleasing on the eye.

Far off and high up in the mountain a sentry spied a darkening coming from the west, a maelstrom of blackening mass swirling ever nearer. In the fields the torsoed boys stopped mid swing and looked up into the skies, their mouths agape as they took in the sight of a thousand flapping wings approaching at great speed. As the approaching squawks and screeches grew louder and met upon fair ears, the bush maidens ceased their chatter and also looked skywards. An awful fear gripped their hearts as they dropped their laden baskets, hitched their billowing skirts above their knees and begun their fruitless dash for safety. For indeed it was fruitless, because before they could clear the rows, the cloud descended and the merciless killing had begun.

From a high turret a sentry set a spyglass to his eye and witnessed the horror taking place below. He rang a bell of alarm and soon other bells were ringing all around the city.

In the streets, back-alleys and squares the squires and common men, going about their everyday business, momentarily stopped in their tracks and looked skyward in a state of bewilderment of a sound they had not heard for many many a year. Indeed some had never heard before as their lives had been blessed by more than a full generation of peace. Clutching their goods close to their chests the men scurried toward the Great Hall, as the woman-folk gathered their broods and shooed them off toward the safety of home.

Inside the Great Hall a murmur of anticipation rose to the rafters and mingled with the smoke from a hundred flickering torches that lined the stone walls and cast a hundred wavering shadows upon the hanging banners that depicted in stitch stories of the city’s past histories. At the far end of the hall two gold laden thrones shimmered upon a dais draped with exotic skins. It was toward these thrones that all eyes were drawn as heralding trumpets announced the arrival of the Lord and his Lady.

It had begun

*

James Forsyth

James Forsyth dug a piece of trapped venison from between two back molars with a wooden tooth pick as he gazed out from his vast panoramic view. Below the trees had begun to blossom and the air seemed filled with the promise of new beginnings. For James the new beginnings were now moving fast and years of careful planning were about to bear fruit, and that fruit would be bountiful and taste all so very very sweet. He allowed himself a satisfied smile, as he caught a glimpse of his magnificence reflected in the thick plate glass before him.

He had to be careful though, even at this stage things could still go wrong, and even those sycophants with their smarmy loyalty would stab him in the back given half a chance. For wouldn’t they just love to slip into his size nine hand crafted shoes, don his bespoke suit and silken shirt. No doubt they would even be gratified to relieve him of his fine cotton boxers and leave him naked out in the cold. He knew they could be as ruthless as he had been to so many before him. There was only one code he lived his life by and that was; fuck them before they could fuck you, and fuck them he would. When this shit hit the fan there would be none of it blowing in his direction, that was for sure, for it had all been in the planning and now he was about to press the button on the final stages.

He swung around abruptly and rose from his chair, strode toward his trophy cabinet. Inside the trappings of his success were displayed, the awards and accreditations stood proudly amongst the collection of artefacts from days of the distant past, ancient cruelties that had always fascinated him. A shrunken head from the Amazon basin, a severed breast, some many centuries old, fashioned into a tobacco pouch, a Chilean shinbone flute, lampshade made from the skin of a tattooed human and penis skin pipe case. He inwardly smiled as he recalled the old joke; “if you rub it, it becomes an umbrella case!”

The history of Homo sapiens showed that man had always revelled in cruelty. From ancient times through to today, man has fashioned some ingenious ways to torture, kill, rip apart and display body parts in the most imaginative fashion. Killing with such cruelty allowed those in power to demonstrate the authority they held and was a good way of persuading the populace to toe the line. They managed to create some pretty fancy religions to justify the horrors and give credence to the bloodletting done in the name of which ever deity they chose to worship. The guy who came up with the idea of creating gods was a genius and as such should be revered above all the gods he had created. Setting one tribe against another, by getting them to worship opposing fictional deities showed outstanding forethought.

James had often speculated what it felt like to kill. Not from a distance, as he had done so many times before as a result of some of the decisions he has made in feathering his own nest. But what it actually felt like. To actually snuff out another life with his own bare hands, experience their desperation and observe the fear in their eyes as they realise the very last moments of their existence is slowly seeping away.

Now that is power!

That is the true power.

The power of life and death.

The power of God!

‘One day,’ he thought.

For now it had begun. There would be no turning back from this point and if all went to plan he would have the true power he craved and wealth beyond his wildest dreams and then, well, maybe a little indulgence would not go amiss.

*

Pilgrimage

Across the vast plains and passing of many moons there had been much blood spilt in the quest for power and riches. Great gods had been created to keep the poor at bay and increase the mysteries of those who held wealth like a dagger to a throat. Great pilgrimages were made by the peoples, whose homes were no more than rudimentary shacks dotted amongst the barren landscape. They would trudge in long lines over many leagues to witness the splendour of the temples raised to the gods and awe at the riches held within. Wise men with great long beards, swirling robes and hats of many colours chanted in low monotone to enhance the feeling of piety as the rag clad populous shuffled quietly through these great edifices, truly believing that such scale and splendour could only be the creations of the great gods themselves.

Jacob held on tightly to the little cold hands of his children. His wife shuffled behind, her back bowed with the weight of their trappings, a ragged shelter with poles of bamboo and clanking pots hung from her back. ‘See,’ Jacob said pointing a rheumatoid finger toward a great painted glass set within the grey stone wall; ‘The great god Ducas, builder of temples.’

His son looked up in wonderment, following the line of his father’s finger.

‘And over there is Droco and Thelea the gods of love.’

The boy smirked at the depiction of Droco with his large pendulous penis and Thelea with her full ripe breasts and exposed vermilion vagina, for he was of that age when stirrings from below were beginning to cloud his mind. The girls he once played childhood games with now took on a totally different significance and the games he imagined playing would now, no doubt, entail the removal of clothes. A sharp clip around the ear disturbed his erotic thoughts.

‘Pay attention boy’ his father admonished as he pointed toward the next window where Silas the great god of war stared out with eyes of raging fire, bearing shield, sword and bloodied lance, the severed heads of his enemies littering the ground around his feet.

They shuffled on following the solemn procession down the body of the temple; all the gods portrayed in window after window of glorious colours that glinted brightly, the outside sunlight illuminating the splendour of their powers. The gods of wind and rain, the frost maiden of snow and ice, and the naked beauty of innocence portrayed by Aesha with her small pert breasts and hair of golden meadow, small furry animals rummaged at her feet and behind her a vision of paradise.

Finally they came before a resplendent altar of sacrifice behind which was the largest window of all depicting the Great God. The God of all Gods. A rounded face set within a frame of long white hair and beard, eyes that revealed compassion and wisdom. In his hand he held a staff of shining light and in his lap sat the originator of mortal life, half man half beast.

This god was so powerful he could not be named, as to utter a name would show him to be equal to any other named creature which would demonstrate disrespect and be deemed as blasphemy of the highest order. So he was referred to as just the “Great God” or “God of...