The Taint of Darkness

By Taylor P. Davidson

There are things in this world mortal men will never understand, forces beyond reason and ageless entities in the Nether. Good and Evil are more than the simple beliefs of man. They are the Songs of Eternity and their discord rings in harmony. The will to love burns bright and strong in the White and Darkness is more than just the absence of light. It is cruelty and hate and frigid cold—the will of nightmares beyond time and madness.

Darkness is a taint upon creation and seeks to exploit mankind, which is itself inherently flawed. The atrocities it commits echo through the ages, with memories of crime, violence and rape serving as its testament. It is men who do these things, those few who ignore their conscience until their heart hardens against love. Know that this is Evil’s true corruption, the damning effect it has to stain a soul. What is it that drives a good man to slay and steal if not for Darkness? How much pain has to be caused before the human mind breaks?

Choices must be made that define actions. Who could claim restraint when wealth beyond use tempts them? Who could hold to peace when those they love are threatened? The Taint of Darkness is in each and every man and woman. What does one do when its will eventually calls? What does one do when faced with Evil, alone and powerless and enthralled by fear? In its heart, mankind knows it is alone and powerless. It is feeble, afraid, and the Dark is relentless...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Taylor P. Davidson
• Release date: Apr 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311354860

Taylor P. Davidson

Taylor P. Davidson was born in Manchester, England, and moved to Norfolk when he was very young. Living in Norfolk’s wide, open fields and sweeping forests, Taylor grew up on steady diet of fantasy and science fiction, with authors such as J. R. R. Tolkien, H. G. Wells and J. K. Rowling being among his favourites. They have become prominent figures as inspiration for his work and heavily influence everything he writes.Taylor studied biology at the University of Manchester and he is now training to be a radiographer at the University of Leeds. He plans to balance his writing with his career and is currently juggling his projects around his studies, work placements with the NHS and a busy social life.

Book preview

The Taint of Darkness

Taylor P. Davidson

The Taint of Darkness

By Taylor P. Davidson

Copyright © 2015 David Taylor

Smashwords Edition

Taylor P. Davidson is the pseudonym of David Taylor

Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievable system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means other than that in which it is published.

All characters and situations in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons or events are entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

The Good Hunt

Honour Among Rogues

The Face of the Flekkerman

Leh Nûvian Vae

The Ascent

The Devil’s Redoubt

Also by the Author

About the Author

For Anton

The horror fiend.

"Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment."

—Edna O’Brien

The Good Hunt

The blizzard beat its fury, plunging the world into a darkness that was ruled by gale. Pine trees groaned beneath its onslaught, losing branches in violent displays of rending wood. Roaring wind carried an endless tirade of snow in its voice and the world was smothered in berserk white. Drifts piled into plumes a dozen feet thick; ponds and streams vanished beneath its frigid mantle. Animals quailed in their dens or died.

The jagged peaks of the mountains were simply gone, swallowed by a dark so absolute the wolf could not even see its own paws. Astinel knew his sister was somewhere ahead of him, yet even her smell was gone. Shivering, afraid and inconsolably alone, he hunkered low and dragged himself onwards. It was the only choice he had: even his thick pelt would not protect him out here, and Death Incarnate shadowed their every step. Besides, duty beckoned. They had to reach the moot.

Astinel whined in the back of his throat as he searched for his sister, desperately peering through half-lidded eyes that were crusted with rime. The third eyelids hounds enjoyed offered some protection against the lashing snow, but it blurred what little vision was left to him. There was no sign of their clan and the hall they sought had yet to be found. His sister and he had spent nearly a week heading into deep wilderness and Astinel was nothing if not a proficient tracker. He could find anything, anywhere at any time, and estimated reprieve to be no more than half a league ahead.

He was musing on the distance to the hall as snow barraged him, imaging its crackling hearths and thick walls, when a darker patch of darkness loomed in the forest ahead. He started and bounded to Analeigh’s side, where he pushed himself against her, shivering despite the newfound warmth of her body. Her laboured breath was just audible over the howling wind and she licked the end of his nose with a rough, blisteringly hot tongue. Analeigh was only a few minutes older than Astinel, but that time could have been decades; she had always been the stronger of the two and possessed a wisdom far beyond her years, having kept both of them alive through the adversity they had faced since their mother’s death.

Astinel gave an involuntary wag of his tail and winced, glad that his sister could not see. She already thought he spent too much time around hounds and found the habit he had gleaned from their minds distasteful. Yet Analeigh was too preoccupied to have noticed and her gaze was fixed upwards, studying the lip of rock that thrust out high above them. They would have to climb it if they were to reach the moot and its relative safety, but its passing looked to be treacherous at best. The path they would have to follow was narrow and crusted with ice. Plumes of snow hissed and writhed along its arête edge.

Some time passed before Analeigh finally started forward. Her shrill yip was nearly lost in the storm, but Astinel understood its meaning. They had to attempt the climb because the blizzard would not break anytime soon. Trepidation filled him as he followed her and he placed one paw before another carefully. The lip’s cold stone was metal against his pads and Astinel felt the sting of cuts, fancying that a trail of blood marked his passing as he hopped from ledge to ledge and shinnied along narrow shelves.

He nearly fell beneath the blasting wind several times, but Astinel was strong and in his prime. Powerful muscles that were built for strength and endurance stretched—resisting his fall with every fibre—and suddenly he had crested the rocky wall to see a speck of firelight flickering in the distance ahead.

He did not need Analeigh’s signal and surged forward anyway, running alongside her with a wide, loping stride. They were ghosts in the storm: sleek, grey and black. There were few animals alive that could boast outrunning a wolf and the exhilaration of their charge snared Astinel. The cold seemed to grow increasingly distant, even as the hall grew in size and form.

Yet their jubilation did not outweigh their caution and they slowed as they reached the site of the moot. Mankind left traps for wolves and there were many out there that hunted them because of what they were. They stopped at the threshold of the door, panting and pacing nervously.

The laughter of men and women was just audible and echoed inside the building, while the rich smells of the sizzling meats and frying vegetables they were cooking made his mouth water. He whined and glanced towards Analeigh, who stared ahead impassively. She turned to one side after a moment’s consideration and stalked off, quickly swallowed by the raging darkness.

Astinel yipped a few times in an attempt to call her back, but eventually gave up and consigned himself to the delay. They had not survived for so long on their own by being reckless and he slumped heavily onto the ground, staring at the door with his head on his paws. The thought of warmth and food drove him mad while he waited and remaining still, poised on the edge of succour, took every tattered thread of strength he had left.

Analeigh returned not long after, a black wolf that suddenly melted from the darkness to his left. She came from the opposite side to the one she had taken to leave and Astinel guessed she had scoped the building’s perimeter for any reason to leave. She nipped one of his ears affectionately and padded into the hall, shoving its heavy door open with her nose.

Astinel followed eagerly, entering a small, destitute common room with little more than a hearth in its centre and a few threadbare hangings on the walls. Nearly a dozen men and women were spaced along the benches that framed the crackling flames, all of whom turned to face them as they entered. Their talk ceased; disquiet became palpable. Knives that had been used for eating were raised and wood creaked as a bow was drawn, held by a red-haired woman who sat alone in one corner.

A long moment passed before a man finally rose from his place at the far end of the bench. The heat and smoke rising from the hearth distorted his form, even though he was built more like a bear than a man and stood proud of six feet. Powerful muscles bulged beneath the aged habit he wore and his face was lost in the shadows of the deep cowl raised over his head. Only his beard was evident, a tangled mat of hair that spilled onto his chest. He studied them carefully before speaking in a voice like tumbling stone: You seek welcome here, friends? Then rise, show your true faces as is our way.

They had been recognised and Astinel relaxed, giving up the form of a wolf for the ritual greeting. Warm tingling replaced the biting cold and blinding, white light filled him as his body turned to water and sloshed onto the ground. For a moment, he was formless and infinite. Then he was rising and softly glowing water twisted back into the shape of a man.

Astinel solidified at the same time as Analeigh and the two of them stood there before the clan of skinchangers, immodest and as naked as their name day. A warm flush crept into Astinel’s cheeks as the women in the room drank the sight of him, their eyes unashamedly roaming his tall, muscular body and hanging manhood. He was called pretty more often than handsome and had a delicate bone structure that would raise any woman’s pulse. His long, golden hair and piercing blue eyes only fanned their hunger and he rarely found his sleeping skins cold.

Analeigh was as equally blessed in appearance and she stood straight-backed with the firm curves of a young woman. Her ebony hair shimmered in the light as it spilled down her back and her eyes, deep brown like honey, paid no mind to the men’s lecherous stares. Astinel felt a surge of anger as their eyes lingered on her pink nipples and the soft, downy hair between her legs, but he let it pass him by. This was their way, the skinchanger way, and it had always been so. They were animals as much as men and they lived as something in-between.

Rout’s tangled beard wagged as he nodded. I see your faces and know you, twins of Mejia. You are brothers and sisters of the Clan and are welcome here. Sit, warm yourself before the fire and eat your fill of our food.

Rout was the clan alpha and tension melted from the room like butter on a hot pan. The cacophony of talk resumed as it had never paused and laughter quickly rose to shake the rafters. Their brethren cried greetings to Astinel and his sister, with those nearest them slapping them amiably on the back and shifting to make room on the benches.

Bring clothes for the twins, Alysia, Rout said as he retook his place at the table. Do you want them to freeze to death? Listen to the wind out there—the mountains have decided to test travellers tonight.

A beautiful woman with hair the colour of pitch and skin like alabaster rose at the Alpha’s command and hurried towards a heap of clothing piled against the far wall. The voluminous folds of her habit smothered rather than garbed her and swished around her ankles as she went, trailing after her along the dirty floor. Alysia returned within moments, beaming as she clutched a pair of habits and fur-lined boots to her chest.

Thank you, sister, Astinel said as he took one of the robes and passed the other to Analeigh. The wool was old and itched, but few skinchangers found man’s clothing comfortable once they had experienced the freedom of fur and feathers. Astinel ignored the discomfort: it was too cold to be naked and habits were often worn by their kind while in the company of others. The robes were loose, warm and could be removed quickly whenever the urge or need to wear another skin came.

Alysia’s bright, blue eyes lingered on Astinel’s manhood before the habit fell down to his ankles and she smiled, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. We weren’t sure if you were going to make it tonight. The blizzard’s shown no signs of abating and this hall is isolated even for us. You two have never been here before, have you?

Astinel shook his head. This is the highest into the mountains we’ve ever come.

And the furthest north, Analeigh said, nudging her brother playfully with one elbow. I was never worried though—my brother can find anything. He’s among the best trackers alive.

Alysia laughed. Aye, you’ve proved that time and time again. Most of us knew you would make it to the moot, but wilderness becomes more dangerous the further away it is from civilisation and Rout wasn’t lying about the blizzard.

Me and my brother are no strangers to the forest, have no fear of that.

Easy now, I’m not saying you are. We’re glad to have you anyway. Your blood runs hot and I’ve no doubt we’re going to need both of you in the next few days.

Astinel dropped down into the seat opposite Alysia and loaded an empty plate with roast ham, goose breast that dripped with fat and diced potatoes that had been fried in butter. His mouth watered at their smells and his stomach rumbled at the mere thought of food. What are we doing here, anyway? The whole clan’s gathered as far as I can tell, except for Boric and Pilm. I’ve never seen so many of us together in one place before.

Alysia’s face darkened. Those are questions best answered by Rout and he won’t tell until he decides the time is right. I don’t like it though; there’s been an ill feel to the forest of late.

You’ve sensed it as well? Analeigh asked through a mouthful of pork, her chin shining with grease. Like something terrible has stolen in during the night and taken up residence. Too many animals are afraid… I don’t like it.

The talk around them quietened as other skinchangers took note of the conversation and Larence, a brooding man with a scarred, disfigured face, spoke up. Aye, something’s here alright and I suspect Rout means to drive it away. The fact Ysabel’s here is a bad sign. He nodded towards the red-haired woman who had pointed the arrow at Astinel and his sister when they entered. She keeps this hall and loves only her solitude.

Astinel had heard Ysabel’s name before, but this was the first time he had seen her in the flesh so he glanced over. There was something about her that made him nervous. Ysabel sat alone, for one thing, and was dressed in clothes made from animal skins rather than habits like everyone else. A short bow made from